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astrobei · 2 years

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carrying the other one in their arms with byclair 😗

#23 for touch prompts!! (me acting as if i did not beg thea to send me a byclair prompt and as if i did not take forever and a half to write it) (was so intimidated and nervous about this one but i hope you like it !!)

Will doesn’t drink. Like, ever. With the exception of his twenty-first which was kind of a given and also at New Year’s that one time, but that was champagne, so it barely even counted, because who even gets drunk off of champagne? Or, more accurately, sparkling white wine from the supermarket, because they're in college and it's not like anyone has real champagne money right now. Unfortunately.

Anyways, Will never drinks. And that’s the reason why– when he had thrown the front door open ten minutes ago, thrown his bag onto his floor, tossed the keys onto the dining room table, and announced loudly that they were going out tonight– Lucas had immediately resigned himself to the role of designated driver.

Well, not driver per se, because they don’t have a car and the local college bar is, like, five blocks down the road. Designated walker, maybe. Designated sheepdog, because if there’s one thing about Lucas Sinclair’s friends, it’s that they get drunk and fucking scatter.

“What’s the occasion?”

Will is fiddling with his hair in the hallway mirror. “Ugh,” he says, and Lucas catches the corner of his frown as he leans in closer. “Long week.”

“I’ll say,” Dustin pipes up from the living room. “You would not believe the shit my client put me through today.”

“Tell us about the shit your client put you through today,” Mike says, head buried in the folds of a coat as he roots through the closet. “Okay, who took my other shoe?”

Lucas looks down at his feet. “Oh,” he says. “I was wondering why my shoes were fitting differently.”

“Unbelievable,” Mike mutters. “I told you not to buy the same pair as me!”

“But they’re so nice,” Lucas grins, bending down to undo the laces. Mike shoots him the finger.

“Unfortunately, it seems that you’ve just admitted that Mike has good taste,” Will says, which is a very occasionally correct but tragic point, then turns around. “How do I look?”

Dustin squints at him from the sofa. “Um. Normal?”

“Good,” Mike says, still glaring at Lucas as he pulls the laces of the right shoe– tragically, Mike’s right shoe– free. “You look good. Is that jacket new?”

“Kind of,” Will laughs, glancing down at the worn brown leather. “Jonathan lent it to me when he visited last month and I never gave it back.

“Typical,” Dustin calls. “But it’s just a college bar, Will. Who cares?”

“Me,” Will frowns. “I care.” He turns to Lucas. “Look okay?”

“Uh,” Lucas says, promptly letting the laces fall from between his fingers. Will looks good. Like, really good. Unfairly good, because he’d just been complaining about how he’d had the longest week known to mankind and how he’d been up at six that morning to get ready for a meeting with his advisor and then he’d sat through seven hours of classes before spending another three in the library and now it’s seven o’clock in the evening and it should honestly be a little bit illegal to go through all of that and come out of it not even looking frazzled.

Will frowns, snaps a finger in his direction. “Lucas?”

“Don’t distract him,” Mike says. “He still needs to give me my shoe back!”

Lucas finishes toeing it off the rest of the way, and kicks it in Mike’s general direction. It flies through the air, rather ungracefully, if he’s being honest, and lands with a soft thump near Mike’s foot. “There,” he says smugly. “Now give me my other one.”

“So I look awful,” Will huffs lightly. “Message received.”

“I said you look good, Will,” Dustin says, finally slamming his laptop shut and making his way around to where Mike is tossing Lucas’ other shoe– the one that’s blessedly his– over to him. “Jesus, Mike, you’re going to take someone’s head off throwing shit around like that.”

“Sorry,” Mike says, not sounding sorry in the least. “And we did say you look good, Will, so does our opinion just not count anymore, or–”

“Dustin said I look normal,” Will corrects, “and I don’t trust you. You have terrible taste.”

Mike lets out an offended noise. “Hey! I have excellent taste, thank you–”

Lucas doesn’t know about all that, even with what he’d been saying about Mike’s shoes, so he chimes in with, “Well, normally you do look good, Will, so Dustin’s technically correct.”

Will freezes, one hand still buried in his hair. “Really?”

“Oh,” Mike snorts, “nice one, Lucas.”

Lucas blinks. “What? What did I say?”

“You said,” Will turns back to the hallway mirror and smooths down the collar of his jacket, “that I look good. Like, normally.”

Great. Is his throat dry? Probably not any more than it usually is. Maybe Lucas should drink some water. “Well. You do.”

“Wow,” Mike rolls his eyes. “I can’t believe that Lucas has more game than you and I combined, even stone-cold sober.”

“Speak for yourself,” Dustin scoffs. “Sweet, sweet liquid courage will be working its wonders tonight.”

Lucas doesn’t know about all that either, but Will is still giving him a bit of a weird look and suddenly Lucas is really regretting not pawning designated sheepdog off on Dustin as reparations for throwing up in their single shared bathroom for hours on end last time they’d gone out. “Sure,” he says instead, as Dustin tugs his own shoes on, and pointedly does not look over at where Will is standing. “Let’s go, you losers. I’ve got class tomorrow morning.”

—-

Here’s the thing, right. Lucas isn’t stupid. He might be a little dumb sometimes, if any of the things Max or Erica or Dustin say have any merit. But he’s not stupid.

Max says a lot of things, actually, and it’s kind of annoying how many of them land super close to home, considering that she’s currently in school on the other side of the country. But one of those things had been, “College makes people super attractive,” or some iteration of that, over the phone when Lucas had called a couple months ago. And his gut reaction to that had been, like, mild apprehension, because he’d seen the guys in his early morning Psych class, okay, and he didn’t know if he’d classify them as super attractive. Maybe just regular attractive, even though that might be pushing it. Or maybe it wasn’t pushing it so much as maybe they just weren’t his type, and he was being a little unfair.

He’d told Max that too, which, in hindsight, had maybe been a mistake. She’d paused, and then– not even bothering to hide the glee creeping into her voice– said, “Not your type?”

Belatedly– and just one second too late, but enough of a delay for Max Mayfield to hone in on his fumbling, vulnerable self like a vulture descending on a carcass– he’d realized that the appropriate reaction would have been to just call them, like, ugly or something. Unattractive, but entirely separate from his own attraction.

Tragically– as he’d figured out over the next hour and half by means of a very panicked phone call, a very amused ex-girlfriend, and a lot of very hyena-like cackling– the guys in his 8:30 Psych class aren’t unattractive. They’re just not– you know. Attractive to Lucas.

Because apparently that’s a thing now. Guys, that is. Being attractive to him. To Lucas, more specifically. Lucas, finding guys attractive.

Great.

“Don’t sweat it,” Max had assured him. “I told you people get hot in college. You’re gonna notice things.”

Notice things. And after some very dignified squawking on his end of the line, and some more cackling on Max’s end of the line, he’d accepted his sorry, highly amusing fate, and hung up.

So Lucas isn’t an idiot, is the bottom line here. And she was definitely right, and he definitely has been. Noticing things, that is. Things like the back of guys’ necks where their hair meets their skin, and the shape of their arms when they stretch, and the angles of their jaws and noses and shoulders. And, to be more specific, because Lucas isn’t an idiot, and he’s been noticing things– Will’s neck and arms and the angles of Will’s jaw and nose and Will’s shoulders. Especially in that stupid brown leather jacket.

Which is, like, fine. It’s fine! Because people get hot in college and you start noticing things, and Lucas is really, really starting to wish he’d never offered to be the sober one tonight because he would kill for a good spiced rum right about now. Unfortunately, he’s a man on a mission– which he’s already kind of failing, because Mike Wheeler has broken his self-imposed no tequila shots with Dustin rule and now Lucas can’t even be too sure they’re still in the bar.

Will is usually better at being the designated sheepdog than he is, because even drunk, they all seem to know that it’s kind of a low blow to make Will Byers chase them all around town, which is why he ends up doing it most of the time. Lucas would know. He usually is the drunk friends, and he sends a mental prayer of an apology up to whichever divine power might currently be listening, because if he makes it back home with one inebriated friend still intact, he’ll be counting his blessings.

He’s starting to think he might have lost Will too– which would make him go down in history as the worst sheepdog known to mankind– when he reappears at Lucas’ elbow, holding a cup of something in one hand and looking– tragically– very good.

Like, objectively. You know, if Lucas is going around noticing things, he might as well be upfront with himself about it. “Hey,” he says. “What’s that?”

Will looks down at his cup and frowns. “No idea. Mike gave it to me and then disappeared.”

Okay, so as of about ten minutes ago, at least, Mike Wheeler was still in the bar. “Where’s Mike now?”

Will is maybe just the slightest bit tipsy, because he shrugs, says, “Sidewalk,” then throws the rest of the drink back in one go.

Sidewalk. Great. Whatever that means. But it’s fine. Mike is a big boy. He can handle himself.

Maybe.

“Cool,” Lucas says instead, straining a little over the music. “Was he– um. Okay?”

Will grins at him, saying something that Lucas can’t quite catch, and okay, apparently this is another thing Lucas is noticing now. Will has a nice smile. He’s not blind, okay, and it’s not a big deal. It’s just a thing. That is. And it probably doesn’t hurt that the mystery drink and the couple of shots he’d downed earlier seem to be lending him a kind of warm, easy confidence that Lucas is sure hadn’t been there before.

He blinks. “Sorry, what?”

Will leans in a bit closer. He isn’t that much shorter than Lucas, who doesn’t have to bend down much more than an inch to reach his height, maybe two at the most, but he finds himself leaning in more than that, for some reason, meeting Will in the middle just as his cheek brushes up against his own. “I said,” Will repeats, breath warm against his ear, “he was taking Dustin home. He didn’t look too good.”

“And he didn’t tell me?” That beats the whole point of someone staying unfortunately very sober, Lucas thinks, because the whole point was that Lucas was supposed to walk Dustin home after he and Mike inevitably broke their no tequila shots pact and started dry heaving into a bush. “Why didn’t he say anything?”

“Mike looked okay,” Will says, still right up next to his ear. He places a hand on Lucas’ forearm for balance, presses his fingers into the sleeve of his jacket, and adds, “Surprisingly enough.”

That is surprising, because Mike can’t hold his fucking liquor. And still, as surprising as Mike Wheeler not being the world’s biggest lightweight for an evening is, it’s not as surprising as Will sliding his hand from Lucas’ arm and dropping it gently down to his waist.

“Um,” Lucas says, because as far as the whole warm and easy confidence thing goes, this seems to be a little much, considering that Will isn’t exactly the touchy-feely-grabby-in-public type. Even in a strictly platonic sense, this is– “Um. What are you doing?”

Will looks at him, and looks at him, and looks at him, and then he finally cracks. “I gave you my wallet for safekeeping,” he laughs, slipping a hand into Lucas’ jacket pocket and pulling his wallet out. He wiggles it in the air. “Remember?”

Right. Yeah. He had done that, hours ago. “Oh,” Lucas says, feeling suddenly very stupid. Is he drunk? Can you get, like, secondhand inebriation? Is that a thing? Maybe Dustin knows. Lucas makes a mental note to ask him. “Yeah. I remember.”

“I’ll close out my tab,” Will says, pulling away just enough to look Lucas in the eye. His cheeks are a little tinged with pink, which makes sense, because it’s warm in here. It’s very, very warm. Lucas is warm, that’s for sure. Jesus. What had Will been saying?

Right. His tab.

“Right,” Lucas says. Will still hasn’t moved. “Your tab. You should. Um.”

“I’ll close it out,” Will repeats, a little quieter now, as he takes a step back and smiles. “And then you can take me home.”

Christ. Okay.

—-

Some other things Lucas has noticed (because he’s a guy with eyes, and when you’re a guy with eyes, you notice these things):

One. Will looks good in that jacket. Lucas hopes, just a little bit, that maybe Jonathan will never realize it’s missing, and then maybe Will can just keep it forever and ever and wear it every day because it looks good. It’s something about the cut of it, he thinks, because it makes him notice how it pulls Will’s shoulders up and out of his perpetually terrible posture, and there’s something about that confidence– artificial or not– that is just objectively very attractive.

Speaking of attractive things. Two– Will is attractive. There’s probably no point trying to avoid thinking about it anymore, out of some arbitrary fear of making things weird. You can find your friends attractive. That’s not weird! That’s a thing that happens to a lot of people, and Lucas can admit to himself that Will is attractive– without hiding behind the guise of thinking about his shoulders or Jonathan Byers’ choice of clothing– and it’s fine. It’s normal. Will Byers is an attractive guy. Full stop.

Unfortunately, because Lucas is Lucas, the full stop lends itself into turning into more of a comma. Because they’re walking home, right, and Will’s foot catches on an errant crack in the sidewalk, and he stumbles, catching himself on Lucas’ bicep with one hand and clutching at the front of Lucas’ sweater with the other, and in one fell swoop, Will Byers is an attractive guy turns into Will Byers is an attractive guy, and Lucas is definitely attracted to him.

Great.

“Whoa,” Lucas says, reaching out to steady Will where he’s still kind of swaying a bit, trying to get upright again. He grips Will firmly under his elbow and hauls him the rest of the way to his feet, and says, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Will breathes out, gingerly moving the offending ankle back and forth. “Yeah, I just– tripped.”

“I know,” Lucas laughs, and Will rolls his eyes up at him. “I saw.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Will smiles. He tests his weight slowly, leaning forward on one foot then back again, then lets out a soft noise of discomfort. “Ah–”

“Shit,” Lucas frowns, then tightens his grip on Will’s arm. “Are you hurt?”

Obviously the answer is yes, but Will, the stubborn motherfucker, shakes his head and says, “No, I’m– ow.”

“Nice,” Lucas deadpans, and Will shoves lightly at his chest.

“Don’t make fun of me. I’m drunk.”

Lucas peers at him. Will doesn’t seem drunk, but maybe he’s just really good at hiding it. “Are you really?”

“No,” Will snorts. “Are you kidding? It’s going to take more than three drinks over four hours to get me. I’m just clumsy.”

Lucas knows this already, because they’re roommates. He’s seen Will in the mornings. And in the afternoons, and in the evenings, and in the middle of the night. “Fair enough,” Lucas agrees, then hesitates. “Here,” he pulls one of Will’s arms over his shoulder, “just– lean on me. Like this.”

“Now people are really going to think I’m wasted,” Will mutters, but he lets Lucas move him anyway. Lucas slips an arm around his waist, under his jacket, and pulls him in closer. “I definitely look like I just threw up into a bush.”

A fourth thing Lucas notices– Will is warm, and he’s solid, and he isn’t pulling away, even when Lucas grips tighter, right over the soft fabric of his university sweatshirt. Will lets him hold his weight up without complaint. It’s nice, Lucas thinks. This is nice. “Is that what Dustin was doing?”

“No, but it looked like that’s where it was headed.” Will leans into him a little bit more, the space between them almost gone, and tests his weight on his hurt foot again. “Ah– okay. Okay. I’m fine.”

He most certainly is not fine. Lucas frowns. “No you’re not.”

Will laughs softly, resting a hand over the back of Lucas’ palm, where it’s splayed flat across the side of his waist. “I mean, we’re only a couple of blocks away. What else am I supposed to do?”

“I could carry you,” Lucas offers. It’s partially a joke– because Will is Will, and the chances of him letting himself be carried by anyone are little to zero– but it’s also– well. It’s not not genuine, because Lucas is thinking about that noticing things thing again, and here are the other things he’s noticed, in the last five minutes or so:

One– Will really does not need to be this close to him. Even with the whole leaning on him thing, he doesn’t need to have his face turned into Lucas’ neck, or his body angled towards him this sharply, or his hand still resting atop Lucas’.

Two– and here’s the real kicker: Will hasn’t said no yet.

“Really?” Will sounds surprised, but again– that’s not a protest.

“Uh,” Lucas says, because he really didn’t expect to get this far, but again– he hadn’t not been serious. “Yeah. Yeah! Of course.”

Will gives him a curious look. “You think you could?”

Lucas scoffs. “Please. Look who you’re talking to.”

Will’s not a small guy by any means– and Lucas knows this, because, hey. He has eyes. Either way, Will laughs again, and says, “Right. I forgot who I was talking to. Mister student athlete extraordinaire.”

“I don’t know about extraordinaire,” Lucas says. “But that’s not a no.”

Will gives him another look, and holds his gaze for one, two, three seconds, before caving. “Yeah, okay,” he says, patting the back of Lucas’ hand once where it’s still holding onto his waist. “Why not.”

Lucas grins. “Great. I’m going to need you to turn about ninety degrees that way.”

“Sure,” Will says, turning, “but why– whoa!”

“See?” Lucas doesn’t consider himself to be, like, a douchey gym guy type, but hey. He’ll take his victories where they come. “Easy peasy.”

Will stares, legs bent and dangling almost hilariously off of Lucas’ forearm. “What–

Okay. So he’s enjoying this a lot, actually. Lucas does a little half-squat, just to show off. “Easy peasy,” he says again, and winks.

Maybe that does make him a douchey gym guy type, but it’s worth it, for the look on Will’s face. “Wow,” Will says, eyes wide. “Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Nothing,” Will blinks. His cheeks are slowly turning red. “You’re just– strong.”

Lucas stops dead in his tracks.

Is he being flirted with, right now? Is that what’s happening? Is Will Byers flirting with him?

He supposes he did start it, after all. “Um,” he says, feeling his own face grow warm. “Thank you.”

Will just nods wordlessly. “Yeah,” he says softly, then clears his throat. “Um. Should we–”

“Yeah! Yeah, let’s– um. Yeah!”

They haven’t even made it half a block down before Will starts up again. “You sure you can–”

“Will.”

“Okay,” Will says, tightening his arms around Lucas’ neck. “Sorry.”

“Thank you.”

It’s really not that bad. They’re close enough to the apartment for Lucas to see the building around the corner, and Will is solid and firm in his arms but it’s nothing he can’t handle. He keeps his eyes fixed firmly on the street ahead of him, though, because for all of his hemming and hawing about being able to carry him and it’s fine, Will, he isn’t sure that he won’t drop him immediately if he catches a glimpse of Will’s face.

Jesus. Okay. This is fine.

They make it all the way to the elevator before they run into a problem.

“Um,” Lucas says, looking up at the metal doors then down at Will. “So I don’t think we’re going to fit.”

They probably will, but he doesn’t want to be responsible for, like, slamming Will’s head against the door and giving him permanent brain damage. “Probably not,” Will agrees, then taps the arm under his legs with a small smile. “You can just put me down, you know.”

“No way.” Lucas shifts him in his arms and puffs out his chest. “We made it this far. I’ve made a commitment.”

“Chivalrous,” Will says, in what was probably intended to be a deadpan, but it comes out a little bit breathy anyway. His cheeks are still pink.

Lucas swallows, and, as the elevator opens up with a quiet ding, says, “Yeah, I know.”

“Go sideways,” Will instructs him, “no, more sideways– yeah, there you go.”

To his credit, Will’s foot only bumps the elevator door, like, the littlest bit. “Sorry!” Lucas apologizes. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“Lucas,” Will laughs. “It’s fine. It’s fine!”

“Not very chivalrous of me after all,” Lucas grumbles, as they make their way down the hallway to the front door.

“At least you weren’t the one who tripped and busted up his ankle,” Will points out, reaching into his pocket. “Here– let me down, I’ve got the keys.”

Lucas sets him down, gently, gently, keeping one arm braced around Will’s waist as he fumbles with his pocket, then the lock. Will lets him. He notices this too, with a kind of absentminded, gleeful sense of victory. It feels like one, anyway, how Will is leaning into him even though he doesn’t have to anymore, because they’re home and he can just hobble off to bed and deal with the whole situation in the morning. In the–

Oh, shit. It’s Thursday night, and Lucas has an 8:30 class.

Whatever. Small victories are small victories. He tightens his arm around Will’s waist and waits for him to get the door open.

“So,” Will says, once they’re inside and the door is closed behind them with a soft click. “That was fun.”

Lucas grins. Will’s turned to face him, so he’s not so much leaning against him for support anymore as he is just leaning. “I thought so too.”

“I didn’t think you’d really do that,” Will admits, taking a step closer. He places a hand on Lucas’ upper arm, the same arm that’s still resting on top of Will’s university sweatshirt, under the stiff leather of his jacket. “It was very gentlemanly.”

“Next time we go out, I’ll lay my jacket over a puddle for you,” Lucas whispers, and Will laughs gently.

“I’d appreciate that.”

“Seriously,” Lucas adds, “you should ice that, or something, because it’s going to be so bad when you–”

Wake up tomorrow was what Lucas had been about to say, and then Will cuts him off with a kiss.

Things Lucas is noticing, added on to the end of an ever-growing list, apparently: Will Byers is a damn good kisser.

Lucas isn’t too sure where that came from, and also he can’t really find it in himself to care, because Will’s lips are soft and his hair is even softer, and up close he smells like fresh air and men’s cologne, and Lucas notices all of these things with far less lucidity than he’d been keeping tracks of things with before. Then, the list of things goes flying out of his head and it’s just Will– warm even though it had been so cold outside, in Jonathan Byers’ stupid leather jacket, and Lucas makes a vague mental note to buy him a brand new one, so he never again has to think about Will’s brother while kissing him.

Again, he thinks faintly, a little bit giddy at the thought, clutching at Will’s waist as he sways lightly, a little unsteady on his injured foot. Again. He’d like to do this again, except maybe without the melodrama and the injury and– whatever happened to Mike and Dustin.

“Gentlemanly,” Will murmurs again, as he pulls away. It’s barely loud enough for Lucas to hear, even though they’re just a few inches apart. Will’s eyes drop down to his mouth, once, then back up to meet his gaze. He bites back a smile, eyes sparkling. “I stand by my previous statement.”

Oh, god. Max is going to have a fucking field day with this one.

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kirbsmakemesmile · 2 months

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i want to ask a question 😈Very specific lock in

Do you think kaiby coincidentally landed back on poopstar on his birthday or was it just a random day 🧐🧐🧐 When they celebrate his “anniversary” is it his birthday or literally just the anniversary of when he landed in the town basically

also does he 🤏 realize when kaibys birthday is and does he do anything to celebrate it guess (sad immediately but he would write letters for kaiby to read when he’s older methinks , i’m also almost 100% sure you’ve talked about this before but DOOONNTTTT CAARREEEE HAD TO ASK

HELLO BRODIE

okay so yes, I think it would make a lot of sense for the ships to be programmed to land on their birthdays so parents know when their kid would arrive (the reason why it took a year to land was because it was past his birthday when the war was over so it waited until his next one) Now the cappies don’t know it’s his birthday (cause they don’t know anything) so they just celebrate it as the anniversary, and basically yeah. I think Mk would do something for Kirby’s birthday each year, I don’t think letters are possible without revealing that Kirby is his son (he doesn’t want anyone to know yet) because he literally cannot see so he would have to have someone write for him (of course maybe in the future he adds letters because he can ask for help from people he trusts) so maybe something else. I mentioned he did textile work, so watch hear me out, a cape for Kaiby (because he won’t grow out of it) that he adds into to each year his birthday passes, and he gifts it to him the birthday after amazing mirror happens okokok BECAUSE BECAUSE BECAUSE, in that game meta knight had to fully rely on Kirby to save him from being sealed in an alternate dimension forever, so this is the peak of their trust being grown and so it means a lot for him to finally give this gift to Kirby, and it also take a lot because he can’t even see it dude so he’s like kind of iffy about it but he does it anyways cause he loves his son SIGH. And it would be the most intricate like beautiful designs I cannot lie, it would have his story like of Kaiby in his life from the very beginning until the current time and he would continue adding to it every year even when Kirby has it.

I’m crying

#kirby #kirby series #answered asks

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asskickedbygirl · 2 years

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Hey, would you write a Ryan Dunn fic where Ryan and the reader have been friends since the cky days and the reader is their photographer and has been taking pictures of them forever and eventually becomes like the official photographer for jackass but her favourite person to take pictures of is Ryan and there’s all this tension between them because they’re best friends and neither realizes they’re totally in love with one another, and the tension builds until they have sex and confess to being in to one another

Photos Of You [Ryan Dunn x F!Reader]

Desc: Anon covered it all!

A/n: i LOVE this ask thank you sm!🫶🫶 tbh this didn’t end up in the direction i thought it would but hope you enjoy anyways!

warnings: smut (18+), p in v, public sex (sort of)

2.2k words

⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒

“Smile!” You jeered, snapping a candid of Ryan and Johnny shoving and punching each other. “Hey you didn’t get my good side!” Johnny complained, pushing Dunn off of him and wandering over to you. “Could never shoot you bad PJ.” He laughed and threw his arm around your shoulder, guiding you away from Ryan and the rest of the crew. “You’re too kind sweetheart. So listen, are we gonna address the elephant in the room or what?” You narrowed your brows and laughed awkwardly. “What elephant?” Johnny took his arm off of you and turned to face you, raising his brows. “C’mon. The Ryan Dunn shaped elephant.” You laughed breathily. “What about Ryan?” Johnny took his bottom lip between his teeth and smiled. “Seems like the only time I see you snapping with this thing is when it’s with him.” He grabbed the lens of your camera and you scoffed. “That’s barely true. I shoot everyone!” Johnny shook his head, “Big Brother editors have to scour to find a picture you took without Ryan.” You rolled your eyes. “Alright so what? You getting camera jealous Knox?” You elbowed him in the ribs playfully. “Nah that’s not what this is about.” Johnny moved closer to you and spoke low. “You love him don’t you?” You laughed dramatically, trying to overshadow the pink that was beginning to spread across your cheeks. “Are you on something? No I don’t love Ryan.” Johnny tutted. “Alright plead the fifth. I’m just saying since it’s right in front of everyone’s eyes. And I don’t believe it’s one sided either.” You bit your lip. “Well what do you mean by that?” Johnny grinned stupidly. “Knew it.” He began walking towards the crew again laughing as you chased him down. “No, no. That does not mean I love him! I just wanna know what you mean!” Johnny kept looking in front of him, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

Johnny wasn’t wrong. About 90% of your work was Ryan but that wasn’t your fault. He was just so beautiful to photograph. You could never take a bad picture of him, his cute button nose and his curly hair, blond or brunet it looked good. But you weren’t in love with him or anything. You had known Ryan for years, what with being the designated photographer for the CKY crew and Jackass now that they landed a movie deal. You guys were best friends and had been forever. It was only natural you were more drawn to photograph him than the others. That’s what you told yourself anyhow.

“Hey.” You spoke, not looking up from your computer as you greeted the blond walking into your room at Bam’s house. “Whatcha doing?” He asked throwing himself onto the bed. “Come take a look at these shots, they’re just for the Jackassworld site but I think they’re cool.” Ryan pushed himself off of your mattress and leaned down to take a look, his head resting on your shoulder. “Nice.” He muttered as you showed him. “That’s a good one of you.” You pointed out a specific one of him with his curly hair all messy, a pair of aviators framing his face. “They’re all good ones of me.” You laughed but he was honestly right. “You’re easy to shoot.” Ryan kissed your cheek roughly to make you laugh, “You flattering me to get in my pants cam girl?” You rolled your eyes. “Cam girl? Really?” He laughed and plonked down on the bed once more. “Yeah, new nickname I’m trying out. You like it?” You spun yourself around on your office chair and shook your head. “Not my favourite.”

You admired your best friend lying nonchalantly on your bed and your head began swarming with Johnny’s words from a couple days prior. “Johnny said something funny to me the other day.” The words fell out of your mouth before you even considered them. “Oh?” Ryan urged you to continue. “Yeah. He insisted I must be in love with you since I shoot you so much. Isn’t that weird?” You laughed awkwardly but the joke wasn’t really funny. “Huh.” Ryan said, narrowing his brows, silence now filling the room. You fidgeted with your hands. “Well are you?” You looked up, confused at the rather bold question. “What?” Ryan scooted to the edge of the bed. “Are you in love with me cam girl?” He stretched out the love word mockingly and you shook your head laughing. “No I’m not in love with you. Sorry to bruise your ego. Why? You in love with me? Cause’ Johnny also insinuated it may be reciprocated.” You moved your brows up and down jokingly as Ryan laughed and shook his head as well. “Can’t say I am.” You regretted ever bringing up Johnnys words as now tension was building. Tension you hated and never wanted to address. So you didn’t, you bathed in it for months.

It was promo time for Jackass: The Movie and as the official Jackass photographer you were stringed along with the boys. Unfortunately much of it involved sitting in a chair uncomfortably while the crew did press, bored out of your mind. You sat in on one interview with Ryan, Bam, Chris and Steve-o from behind the camera, sipping on a bitter black coffee and making casual conversation with some lighting guy. You zoned out of the small talk to listen in on a question, it was about girls or something you presumed fro Chris and Steve-o’s giggly answers. And then it was Ryan. “I mean, yeah I guess I’ve gotten more girls since the show. Not a girlfriend or anything but yeah.” He said awkwardly, clearly a little uncomfortable. “And were they hotter than before fame?” The interviewer pushed, the other guys laughing awkwardly but Ryan just scratched the back of his head. His eyes flashed over to yours for just a second and you realised you probably looked like you’d been slapped in the face unintentionally. You weren’t sure why but Ry talking about other girls always made you feel a little uneasy. “Sure, I guess.” He spoke, clearing his throat right after. You poured the rest of the coffee down your throat and excused yourself to get more, walking off almost in a huff.

You cursed yourself for being so awkward about the whole thing, you probably made it so apparent that you were what, jealous? That was fucking stupid. You fumbled with the coffee pot as you heard the interviewer thank the guys and everyone get up to prepare for the next one. “Hey.” Behind you Ryan lingered. “Hey.” You replied, trying not to make eye contact just yet. “Can I talk to you?” Your cheeks started burning. “Yeah, what’s up?” You put the paper cup down and turned around to wait for him to say whatever he was going to say. Ryan looked almost more embarrassed than you, his nose a cute red. “Like in private.” You found that kind of weird seeing as there was no one around you that could possibly hear your conversation but shrugged anyways. “Okay.”

You followed Ryan into some green room, there was a thirty minute break until the next interview seeing as they had been doing them consecutively for a good few hours. He shut the door and you sat on the couch. “Are you okay?” You asked, Ryan had become even more jittery and nervous than he was a couple seconds before, he sat beside you. “Are we good?” You narrowed your brows and laughed nervously. “Well yeah, why wouldn’t we be?” He looked serious, quiet. “Ryan?” “I’ve been thinking about what you said about what Johnny said.” You scratched the back of your head and spoke lowly. “Oh.” The tension could be cut with a knife. “I’m tired of pretending it’s all fine.” Your face stiffened. Ryan looked at you dead in the eyes, “He’s right, I do love you. And I don’t know if you love me but-“ You cut him off with a kiss. Hands on the sides of his face, rough kiss. He reciprocated immediately, barely flinching. Your lips moved in sync and you moved over to be closer to him as his hands gripped your waist, fingers slipping under you shirt to touch your flesh. Your arms found themselves around his neck before Ryan leaned down to lay you on your back on the couch. His rough kisses continued before he pulled away and began kissing down your neck.

You whimpered softly as he nipped at it, sending shivers down your spine. “Ryan.” You muttered as he continued. “Ryan we’re in a fucking green room.” The man pulled away and grinned. “S’fine, I told some intern to not let anyone in.” You laughed, “What so you knew we were gonna fuck in here?!” Ryan laughed and kissed your neck again, “No, just thought the conversation was gonna map out a little longer than this.” You grinned but allowed him to continue, his hands moving down to rub you over your jeans, a bold move. You moaned and grabbed his shoulders in surprise. “Jesus, just fuck me they’ll need you again soon.” Ryan smiled stupidly, “So eager.” He unbuttoned you pants and helped you out of them before unbuckling his own and pulling them down enough so his dick could be free. He linked his fingers underneath the band of your panties and pulled them down quickly, still kissing your mouth and your neck. He began jacking himself off a bit after spitting into his hand to get himself a little harder before running his tip in between your folds. You moaned at the feeling before remembering where you were. Were you really gonna let Ryan fuck you for the first time in some random green room in LA? Then he pushed into you and the answer was clear, yes. You slapped your hand over your mouth to smother your noises but Ry moved it off of you, replacing it with his lips as he started to move. You moved your hand down to grip his waist as he fucked into you quickly. You weren’t expecting him to be so harsh for the first time but god you weren’t complaining. The passion was just what you needed as you moaned and whimpered into his mouth, the couch creaking under the weight and movements of the two of you. You pulled away from Ryan’s mouth to whisper one thing, “Harder.” He listened. It was proving more difficult to conceal your moans so Ryan resorted to putting his own hand over your lips. “Sssshhhh, you want the intern to hear me fuck you? Huh?” You shook your head, tear beginning to fall down your cheek from the pleasure.

“You love me?” You waited a moment before nodding your head. He took his hand off of your mouth and placed it on your cheek instead. “Yes.” You breathed out. He smiled. “Yeah? Love me enough to let me fuck you on a random couch?” Ryan’s dirty talk was doing its job as his words went straight to your heat. You nodded again but he grabbed your face to look you in the eyes. “Yes.” You whispered and he smiled and kissed you. “I love you too. Now will you come for me?” You nodded desperately for what felt like the hundredth time. Ryan’s pace quickened as you felt your orgasm quickly approaching. You were surprised when the band in your stomach snapped before you realised, releasing an involuntary moan loud enough for anyone outside to hear. Ryan slapped his hand over you mouth quickly but it was far too late. You didn’t even care in the moment, too enamoured in the feeling spreading through your body to be embarrassed. Ryan bit his lip and shook his head. “Can you be quiet while I come? Where do you want it?” He uncovered your mouth and you smiled, blissed out. “Come in me.” Ryan laughed and kissed you. “God why didn’t we do this before.” His hips snapped quickly, fingers digging into your sides before he stilled, spilling into you with a suppressed groan.

It wasn’t longer than a minute before Ryan was out of you and pulling his pants back up. You just lay there, catching your breath in an awed out haze. Ryan laughed and tried to help you pull your pants back up. You sat up and pulled them back on, feeling a little uncomfortable and a little turned on by the feeling of his cum slowly slipping out of you. “What are your bets the interns gonna be traumatised?” Ryan laughed at your witty commentary and used his thumb to rub the mascara stain off your cheek. “I’d love to take a picture of you like this.” He murmured. “Oh god.” You groaned when you realised everyone in that set would know you’d just been fucked upon inspection of your blotchy blush and messed up makeup. “It’s fine.” Ryan said when he understood your complaints. “You’ll never see those people again anyways.” You stared blankly at him. “Chris, Steve, Bam.” Ryan muffled his laughter with his hand, the same one that had muffled your moans earlier. “It’s not funny.” You slapped your best friend while laughing yourself before your head snapped over to see someone opening the door slowly. “They’re ready for you Ryan.” A shaky young voice sounded, too terrified to even dare look inside the room that now probably reeked of sex. You both laughed heartily, Ryan thanking the poor kid.

End.

@gnarkillknoxville @steve-osahottie @izzaaaaaa @nonbinarypontius @jackussy420 @ckygetsjobs @lovexjoe

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thebindingofpillo · 2 years

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Bethany

Bethany is a bit of an odd one out, because unlike the rest of the cast, she is not reincarnated! This is her first time ever being alive! The fact that she happened to be Lazarus’s sister was a complete coincidence. This means she’ll never have to deal with unpleasant memories resurfacing, but also that she’s completely in the dark about anything supernatural going on around her. She doesn’t know about angels, or demons, or that her brother is THE Lazarus, and he is totally cool with that, he wouldn’t want his little sister scarred forever anyway. So… Bethany is just a normal gal! A bit of a nerd, she likes comic books and silly t-shirts (the ballama split is her favourite one), is a huge bookworm and while introverted, she still likes to spend time with her friends and doesn’t mind going out with them. Her introduction is done, more stuff about her under the cut!!

Bethany is Lazarus’s younger sister, and has spent most of her life following her brother to the ER. While not sick, Lazarus was incredibly unlucky, and got into a series of increasingly ridiculous accidents, which landed him in the hospital every single time. Anyway, due to the hospital being quite strict with kids running around and/or being loud, Bethany quickly grew up to be a quiet, introverted kid, perfectly content to spend time on her own. Her parents tried their damn best to always have at least a babysitter or even a neighbour watch over her, but more often than not, the very young Bethany was left to her own devices. This resulted in her spending a lot of time in the hospital waiting room, and when she was old enough, the school’s library, where she quickly developed a deep love for reading. While this was a great way for her to pass time, spending so much time in the library took a toll on her social life, and she didn’t have any friends until way later in life. Even now, most of her friends come from Lazarus’s clique, and are much older than her. She met Jacob and Esau in the hospital (they were in the same room as Lazarus) and Jacob was the one who first introduced her to comics (her second biggest passion after the Lord /j)

Anyway, when Lazarus wasn’t trying to end his own life in a very stupid way, they usually visited their grandparents (who are not gonna feature in the story bc they’re either dead or live too far away and I don’t want to design them), and this is where Beth had her first introduction to Christianity. They even gifted her the Book of Virtues! Something she still holds dear to this day. While her parents were usually too busy to give much thought about religion and Lazarus didn’t really care either way, Beth found solace in her faith, which helped her feel less alone in general. Who wouldn’t feel alone in knowing their guardian angel was constantly watching over them? Beth would spend quite some time talking to god and her guardian angel (in private! As to not be caught talking to herself by the other kids) but this didn’t really helpe her make any new friends. While elementary school was bearable, and her classmates were essentially used to the quiet girl with her nose always buried in a book, things took a turn for the worse in middle school. The kids were shuffled into new classes, her old acquaintances ended up somewhere else, and little Beth found herself surrounded by completely new people who weren’t used to her “quirkiness”. Bethany was quickly singled out by her new classmates, and what started as admittedly innocent teasing, quickly spiralled into full-on bullying. More often than not, Beth would find her beloved books damaged, her personal items stolen and her life generally being made hell. This culminated into an incident where all the girls in her class cornered her in the bathroom and convinced her to let them put makeup on her, to disastrous results.

At the time Beth didn’t really have the tools to communicate what was happening at school, and wasn’t really able to understand that the attention she was receiving from the other girls wasn’t… good. But not having had anyone explain to her what healthy boundaries were, she didn’t really understand what she was going through. She would however, develop quite a bit of school-related anxiety, but not knowing anything about this new and foreign feeling, she just never thought much about it and powered through three years of misery. The only silver lining was her brother, who was always there to support her and help her when the stress got too much for her and she risked failing her classes. Thanks to Lazarus, Bethany never went below a B grade.

Highschool was marginally better, but years of teasing and fake kindness had left Bethany absolutely traumatised, so she didn’t really make any friends there either. Lazarus and the twins tried to mitigate the damage, but an eight year age gap is pretty difficult to fill. During all of this, Beth’s only comfort was her faith. She would pray to God every night, and even if He didn’t really respond, talking to Him still made her feel a little bit better.

Once highschool was out of the way, Bethany’s parents pushed for her to get a degree, and she enrolled to study medicine. Spending so much time in hospitals made her realise how much people needed eachother, and she was eager to help. Or at least, this is what she told herself every night, pouring over increasingly difficult books, taking one class after the other. Bethany might have realised that being a doctor might not be the right career for her, but she’s already got two whole years of university under her belt, it would be a waste to drop out now, right? And her parents are counting on her! She would never let them down. When she’s not studying, Bethany is slowly trying to expand her social circle. She met Samson through Esau, and while the two aren’t incredibly close, she still likes him well enough. Her biggest achievement was meeting and getting to know Maggy and Azazel Zachary, two lovely people she met at mass one Sunday. She’s been working up the courage to ask them to hang out together, or even grab a coffee. And that’s where we are now! She’s currently living with her brother in an apartment their parents have rented for them, so Bethany could be closer to her school. Said apartment is also conveniently close to Jacob and Esau’s house, so the four of them can still hang out together after all these years!

Her personality Ever since I envisioned Beth’s character, I knew I wanted her to be like Ella, my favorite character from Lucifer (which is a pretty good show, esp. the first three seasons). Despite her crippling shyness, and still quite a bit of anxiety due to her past, Bethany is trying her best to be more open to new people, even if it leaves her drained most of the time. Even then, she’s not one to turn down an invitation to go anywhere, or do anything, usually being the first one who suggests outings or activities. It’s almost like she’s trying to prove something! Mainly that she’s not the shut-in of her teenage years anymore. This is Big Girl Bethany, and she has tons of friends and is not afraid of anything and anyone.

On the downside, this often makes her… a bit overbearing. Not everyone can handle somebody who tries to be cheery 100% of the time, and Beth might even overstep a few boundaries while trying to be as friendly as possible. And by constantly trying to put herself out there, she runs a big risk of burning herself out, which in turn could reflect poorly on her grades. Her only friends at the moment are the one she met at mass, so Magdalene and Azazel (who she doesn’t know is a demon) and even then, they haven’t really hung out together yet. But one day!

Note, this “party girl” persona is not a mask, she genuinely likes going out with people and making friends, she has to leave herself enough time to recharge afterwards. Moreover, she still feels unsafe about sharing her interests (mainly reading, comics, and being a nerd) for fear of being ostracised like she was in middle school, so if asked about what she likes to do in her spare time, she either tries to avoid the question or change the subject. She knows, objectively, that adults don’t make fun of other adults for something mundane such as liking things but her trauma runs deep. If shown genuine interest and respect tho, Bethany is quick to open up to people, but this also makes her incredibly easy to manipulate (she’d do anything for her friends) so she tends to approach any and all social situation with extreme caution. Very few of her acquaintances ever made it past the “small talk” stage.

Her faith is also a big part of her identity, and Bethany holds a lot of the core Christian values dear to her heart. However, she does not want to push her faith on everyone else, and is an incredibly accepting person. This is also something she doesn’t really like sharing with people though, as she’s been made fun of for being a prude, or for going to church every Sunday. She soon learned that inviting people to mass with her would have been another source of ridicule, so she stopped talking about anything related to the Lord altogether.She has since gotten over this, and while she won’t invite people to mass with her, she has no problem letting other know she’s Christian and reserve herself sometime to pray and do Christian things.

More stuff that I didn’t know where to put

Her birthday is January 9th because of an inside joke with a friend

Eden is deeply fascinated with her. None of the others had any “normal” siblings for quite a long time, and while they’d love to get closer to Bethany, Lazarus is NOT having it, and will chase them away with a broom if needed

Bethany and Lazarus live together, in an apartment their parents have rented out for them. Lazarus was the first to move out, and then let Bethany have his spare room once she had to go to uni, so she would be closer to her school

She still prays to God every night, more as a way to wind down after a long day or meditate on her current situation. It gets worse when she’s really stressed, and she might even need to excuse herself to recite a couple of Hail Marys to calm down during the day

When she was younger, her parents were the ones who took her to mass, but once she was old enough to go on her own they stopped. Lazarus still goes with her sometimes (mostly for the big celebrations, like Christmas or Easter) but 90% of the time Beth goes alone.

While other kids her age had a witch-y phase, Beth had an angel phase! For a brief period she couldn’t get enough information about angels, and still owns a bunch of books about them. In some way, she’s still interested in them, but more in a spiritual sense this time.

Cannot stand horror movies, but will still try to power through them. I weirdly okay with horror comics and books.

Aaand, that’s kinda it! I’m sure I’ll think about ten other things I wanted to say about Beth, but they’re not coming to my mind right now. Hope you’ll like this stream of consciousness that I didn’t proofread! Feel free to ask about her (or anyone else!) my inbox is always open and I have no life.

#reincarnation AU (working title)#tboi reincarnation #tboi bethany #tboi #binding of isaac #the binding of isaac #tboi fanart #character sheet #tboi au #pillart

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goosecorp · 1 year

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My Pokémon SwSh game is bugged.

I am a big fan of the Pokémon series, and pretty much been here for awhile, however, despite that, my first Pokémon game that I ever got to play was Pokémon Sword & Shield, and even then, that was on my friend’s switch at school, so when I finally got my own switch with my own copy of Pokémon Shield, I was hyped. Unlike with the save on my friend’s switch, I took my time lovingly crafting all of my Pokémon team, and including my favorites such as Yamask, Slowpoke, and the most recent ones at the time such as the Galarian Zigzagoon evolution line and the Grookey evolution line, however the Pokémon of interest in this story is this Low Key Toxtricity named “TOXIC MIST!!”

Yeah, yeah, spooky Pokémon in the game next thing I’m gonna tell ya is Missingno. appeared and deleted my save, but no, up at this point the game played as normal, beating the gyms, beating other trainers, and then going camping, I favored the Toxtricity the most during camping, I really liked it’s design, despite how simple it was in actuality, it definitely climbed the ranks of my favorites fast, and it was definitely my most used pokemon, or at least second most used, first place went to my Rillaboom, since he was a Grade-A tank.

But I beat the game, facing minor bumps (Rose literally sucks, screw steel-types forever), and I decided as celebration for my pretty clean playthrough of the game, I spin a wheel and release a random Pokémon on my main team, y’know, give them freedom away from my character (silly I know, let me be happy ok), I put every-Pokémon on my team on an online wheel website, and spun it, it ended up landing on Toxic Mist, of course her being one of my favorites I re-spun, again, and again, and again, but every time it landed right back on Toxic Mist, I felt awful letting go of one of my favorites but I just soothed myself imagining that Toxic Mist would run off into it’s own habitat and be happy, maybe even visit my trainer character sometimes, I remember this bit clearly since I drew doodles of this scenario later.

I released Toxic Mist and then moved on, I think ended up getting bored after I finished the story-mode and moved onto other things since I didn’t have the DLC, I ended up resetting my save to redo the story mode a couple months later with a different batch of Pokémon.

This is where the game started acting up, and things felt…weird, I felt like I was being watched, I even ending up taping my curtains to block any gaps, but that feeling never left, in-fact, it got worse by the time I found myself at the Giant’s Mirror part of the Northern Wild Area, thats when I found a Low Key Toxtricity, but something about it was off to me, something about it paired with the fact I felt watched made me deeply afraid of this specific Toxtricity, I approached it anyway, because it’s just a Pokémon character, nothing it could do could effect me in real life, plus it was just standing there doing nothing even after I got close enough to the point it should of reacted so I assume it was a bugged Pokémon.

I was proven wrong as soon as I engaged battle with it, for some reason the encounter played as if I was battling a trainer, it also let out this ear-piercing ringing sound, it was so loud I turned my switch’s volume down to mute, before I continued I looked at the Pokémon but couldn’t see anything but it’s back due to the camera angle, but thats when I noticed the name “TOXIC MIST!!” spelt the exact same way I named my own Toxicity from my previous save, I thought it definitely had to be some bug at managed to save bits of my previous data to the game and loaded it where it didn’t belong, which was strange since I didn’t encounter any other bugs before this point.

Bug or not, I was immediately proven wrong when I proceeded and it finally showed it’s face, but the way it did it was it curled backwards like that one clip from The Exorcist, and when I saw it’s front I was immediately stunned by a mixture of shock and fear, mainly shock, It’s front was a messed up slurry of textures that I’ve never seen the game, but the part I focused on the most was it’s neck, for some reason it’s neck had been entirely split open like someone slit it, instead of blood like you would expect it was just foamy, I didn’t know how to respond to this, so I tried attacking it, after my turn was done I felt my switch start to heat up quickly, I immediately turned off my switch and the heat died down almost immediately.

After a couple tests my switch turned out to be fine and so was the data of the other games on it, but just to be safe I’ve deleted Pokémon Shield off of my switch, that moment still stresses me out whenever I try to figure out what happened to my game during that moment, but the only thing I do know is that I’m not risking my hands nor my switch to test something that only effects one game that was on it.

Authors note time!

I realized I never posted this so I decided to post it for the spooky season! This is based off a TikTok clip of a glitchy Toxtricity.

This was my first attempt at a Pokepasta and I pulled a lot of specific info from my own experience with Sword and Shield, real fun to do to be honest!

I got nothing else to say so uh…thanks for reading!!

#[handcrafted works of art]#pokemon #pokemon creepypasta #pokepasta #toxtricity #creepypasta

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i-love-an-alcoholic · 1 year

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Story of M: How I became an addict, Part One

CONTENT WARNING: Alcohol and drug abuse

Edit: I want to add that alcohol withdrawal is potentially lethal and should NEVER be attempted without consulting a medical professional!

I began using alcohol as a coping mechanism at age 17. I was an outcast at school. My parents' marriage was nothing but a facade and my mother took her frustrations about their impending divorce out on me. I had very little hope for the future and being told I'd never amount to anything did not help. I had always dreamed of becoming a visual artist but felt I had no talent at all and I was doomed to fail at everything I tried. I had been diagnosed with depression at 14 and received counseling for it which was a positive, but as soon as the bi-weekly session was over I had to return to my regular life which was becoming more and more unbearable every day.

My parents didn't drink a lot, but we had a fairly well-stocked liquor cabinet full of souvenir bottles from my father's travels. "Nobody's going to drink these anyway", I thought and took some of the bottles and hid them in my closet. After my parents and sibling went to bed, I'd take a bottle and force its contents down my throat. My room was on the opposite side of our apartment from other bedrooms and it also had a convenient second bathroom right next to it, so when I had had too much I could throw up discreetly without waking them up.

I did this multiple times a week. My grades went down because I was groggy and hung over at school. One time I took a whole bottle of champagne and went outside to drink it. I was sitting on a park bench next to a playground, drinking straight from the bottle, all alone.

Legal drinking age is 18 where I live, and oddly enough, turning 18 slowed down my drinking. I didn't have to drink my parents' booze or hide my alcohol use any longer, but I had to buy it myself and store it in the fridge where my mother would see and comment about it. Things were pretty good for a while. I graduated from school with average grades, managed to get into a university and moved out at 19, at the same time my parents divorced.

I failed hard at uni. After two years, at 21, I changed schools into a more practical one, and for the first time in a long time, felt good about myself. I did well academically and was popular within our group. I even got a good friend, J. J was a party dude and we partied a lot, more than everybody else. Despite that everything was good for a year or so.

At the time I was in a relationship with a very troubled guy (I could go on forever about him, but I digress) who got into designer drugs and convinced me to try them too. To this day I have no idea what the stuff even was, but I believe it was a synthetic cannabinoid. I was sold. I took that stuff daily for several weeks, while neglecting my schoolwork. After that I would actively seek drugs in addition to binge drinking 2 to 3 times a week.

Despite this I managed to get my degree and landed a fairly well-paid job straigh out of school. I had to move cities for my job, but stayed in a long-distance relationship with the aforementioned troubled guy mainly because of his contacts. My job was at times very stressful, which I used to justify my binge drinking and occasional drug use. Work hard, party harder and so forth. I was around 26 when I began to notice negative side effects of binge drinking: I was overweight, bloated, irritable when sober and had scary hangovers. I tried to quit drinking, but found out I couldn't do it for more than a week.

Since I couldn't quit on my own, I went to see a doctor and asked for an Antabus (disulfiram) prescription which he happily gave to me. I know that Antabus does not work for everybody but it helped me immensely. At first everything was terrible, but after some weeks it got easier and easier until all the cravings were completely gone and I felt like a new person. All's well that ends well, right?

Wrong. To be continued.

#i love an alcoholic #tw alcoholism #tw drugs

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mydayserenade · 2 years

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- something along the lines of...

- synopsis: hongjoong had always been adamant in resisting his friend, park seonghwa, from partaking and going even further in his experimentations. as if life for seonghwa wasn’t a whole land of purgatory, will his inner demons bring out the best or the worst in him one fearful night?

- seonghwa x hongjoong

- tw: blood, hallucinations, cursing, mentions of operational procedures

- horror, thriller, muderous muderous friends

- word count: 1.4k

- a/n: so yes i am back after nth months of indefinite ghosting and completely forgetting this account even existed due to my lack of commitment with my hobbies but ANYWAYS, that is another discussion for another day. i can't even describe to begin how much i had been itching to write something before the year ended but here we are with a seongjoong horror themed one, perfect for the spoopy month! now, im not gonna promise anything in terms of uploading regularly (although i dont think many of you could give two fucks) but i will still be posting stuff seldomly if writers block will not become my enemy for the months to come. though i feel like i can kinda be back in my writing element, time is the biggest constraint for me in pumping out ideas and fics hence why i have been ia and unmotivated to post... until today (which is kinda odd ngl but ik it wont last forever). enough of the jibber-jabber, please enjoy my unplanned october special featuring our very lovely seongjoong :) see u all soonest!

*all credits goes to the images used

*the views, themes and dialogue does not reflect the belief and/or influence of the artists mentioned below and of the writer.

*please DO NOT repost on other sites unless you have given credits to the original writer.

“Has the patient been experiencing any side-effects?” A faint and shallow voice echoes throughout the clean, white halls. “No sir, amazing to see how our test subject can withstand even the highest of frequencies.”

The nurse pleasingly announced. “It’s only a matter of time until we can actually start Project Siren on him to fully seal the deal with Ember Corp.” She enthusiastically added, with the squeaky wheels from the mobile hospital bed loudly agreeing. “Aren’t we too ahead of ourselves, dear?” Doctor Kim paused as he leaned over towards the nurse’s eye level and kept a steady but threatful glare. As she was trembling in fear, Doctor Kim leaned back and put his hand delicately on her shoulder. Composing her while asking her subtly to leave. “You are most certainly right Doctor, apologies for my immature behavior”. As she bows her head and Doctor Kim copying it, the nurse heads off the north wing of the facility-- leaving Doctor Kim and the occupied hospital bed all alone.

“Well, Mr. Park. Shall I roll you right back into your room?” Hongjoong pitched but no one was of answer, he heaved a heavy sigh and took course heading towards his main office with his patient.

A muffled voice and multiple blinding haze of lights had woken up Seonghwa’s senses as he gradually got back into his conscious state. But before he could even theorize on his own about where he was, Hongjoong was sitting across him in his leather office chair; watching Seonghwa slowly recoup and get to his bearings.

"Hongjoong? Wh-whe... Where are we?"

"Its DOCTOR Hongjoong mind you, and we are in my office; perfectly designed by yours truly."

Seonghwa shakes off the weariness in his head, clearly in distraught after 5 anxious hours of being knocked out. Hongjoong stands up from his chair and makes his way towards the side of Seonghwa's bed; keeping a safe distance to avoid any complications and sudden raptures that Seonghwa may present.

"Are you feeling better?" Hongjoong asks calmly. "I've experienced worse." Seonghwa replies with shallow breaths.

"You don't have to keep doing this Seonghwa. I told you, I'm more than willing to help you get back on your feet."

"Over my dead body would I treat you like an ATM."

Seonghwa's resistant tone and jaw clenching was enough for Hongjoong to entirely change the subject; even if he would like to prolong the conversation and plead for him to stop going through these sessions, both of them would just end up with cursing each other out-- something Hongjoong never attests to.

"So what happens now? Do I get to finally leave the facility?"

Hongjoong was adamant to let a word out of his mouth, he already had known that Seonghwa would not be able to leave this place immediately; not in due time at least. Seonghwa notices the sudden gloom in the eyes of the doctor, “Uh-oh, this isn’t good”.

He finally takes the courage to speak. "I'm afraid not in the near future, the company is still ordering for a few more trial runs before I can let you go." Seonghwa suddenly lifts his head up, eyebrows knitted and rapid impulses of rage race through the chambers of his mind.

"You're fucking with me." Never had he been more infuriated at the way things were going. All of his life was he berated of things he wasn’t coming into terms with, he had already accepted his faith being the unlucky duckling in his family. He accepted defeat and disownment like no other prideful being could ever do. But this? This was more than just cursing out, this was betrayal-- this was unacceptable in his books. He was promised 15 sessions only, a shit ton of money; he was promised to be out of this hell hole immediately.

"I thought we were already done with the 15 sessions?" A chilling growl rumbles down deep into Seonghwa’s chest, he was seeing red like a crimson tide crashing into his hindsight. Hongjoong couldn’t bear the sight of his friend all wired up and weary, but as much as he persuaded for him to stop Seonghwa from doing this all arguments would lead to nothing.

"I thought so too." Hongjoong replied as he crossed his arms, firming his stance in case Seonghwa would ever come at him. Carefully he stands closer to him, but he clearly wasn’t having none of Hongjoong’s gentle sympathy. "I'm sorry Seonghwa, these are orders from the board. You haven't been showing any signs of improvement-- you know how resilient and ugly these people can be when things don't go accordingly as planned." All could Seonghwa do was scowl at the sight of Hongjoong, he clearly had no energy within him to even throw the nearby glass of water on his bedside neither scream at the top of his lungs.

Silence filled the eerie void of Hongjoong’s office, no one was in their element to start a ruckus-- not even Seonghwa who could barely move an inch. After what felt like hours standing in the middle of nowhere, a sharp ringing blasts the entire room and perks up Hongjoong’s ear. With a hand gesture signaling Seonghwa to give him a few minutes, he leaves the chilly room, leaving Seonghwa all by himself.

In a fit of rage inside his head, a multitude of curses flew out of his mouth while clenching the white sheets delicately placed on top of him. As he continues to verbally bring out his anger, a throbbing and excruciating pain hovering all over his head brings out the worst in Seonghwa. He couldn’t get up by himself, Hongjoong wasn’t anywhere near him, all he could do was cry and curl up in a ball until the pain would miraculously disappear. Until visions of blood, slaughter and the whispering winds of the distress embraces him, Seonghwa ultimately stops from his cry of pain. The whimpers paused, everything felt so dense around him and his conscience was nowhere to be found. Seonghwa feels a moist, seeping spot on his blanket. As he reaches for the tissue box near him, his mouth opens agape to the sight being reflected at the monitor in front of him.

Why was he crying blood?

#park seonghwa #kim hongjoong #seongjoong #ateez #ateez fic #ateez horror #ateez thriller #seonghwa #hongjoong #hongjoong doctor #seonghwa patient

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titleunknown · 9 months

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A Difference in Time.

CW: angst

A/N: This is based on a dream that I had where a girl received letters from someone she loved, but she had somehow lost the past 10 years of her life.

Small droplets wept from the sky, hitting leaves on the trees around me as they fell before landing softly on my forehead, flowing down to my chin.

Opening my eyes, I took in the scene of the garden before me, the various flowers, swaying in the rain. Despite the clarity of everything around me, my reality was unclear and uncertain.

I was told ten years had gone by, but, for me, only a day had passed. The true passage of time became evident as I looked at the familiar faces around me, all of them aged.

Something had happened, but what was it?

"You have some letters waiting for you to open them." My mother spoke as she cracked the window open. "The mail carrier said that they have been holding these for you since you disappeared."

I stood up from the swing, noticing that my clothes had become somewhat dampened by the rain.

I grabbed the letters as I passed through the doors. "Ethan...." I thought as I looked at the familiar envelopes.

"I'm going to go upstairs and read these." I told my mom as I made my way to my bedroom.

There were dates written on each letter starting not too long after I disappeared to just a few months ago.

Opening the first letter, I read it while sitting next to my window.

Dear 'Flower',

The scene from up in the mountains is so beautiful during the spring season. I know you don't like heights, but if I had time, I'd still bring you here to see it.

Also, I recently got a cat to accompany me on my travels, since you were worried about me being alone. His name is Fin.

-Ethan

Dear 'Flower',

I'm not sure if my letter or yours got lost since I have not received a response to the last one.

Anyways, Finn (my catpanion) and I will be heading to the countryside now that my job here in the mountains.is done. Sorry I don't have time to visit even though I'm not that far away from you at the moment.

-Ethan

Dear 'Flower',

Are you perhaps upset with me. I know you might not have meant getting a cat to keep me company, but Finn has been the best friend I have here.

Also, I have found some stability here in the countryside. I have a new job and I just really like it here.

Hope to hear from you soon,

-Ethan

Dear 'Flower',

Hopefully, you've just been so busy making your dreams come true that you haven't been able to respond and that nothing bad has happened to you.

Hope you are well,

-Ethan

Dear 'Flower',

You won't believe it, after working here in the countryside I have enough money saved up to buy some land. I already have some picked out to build a house on.

-Ethan

Dear 'Flower',

I got the land, now all I have to do is wait for the materials to arrive. Unfortunately, it looks like it'll be a long wait, so it looks like I'm starting with a garden.

I'm still hoping to receive a response from you.

-Ethan

Dear 'Flower',

I'm going to be busy for a while, so I won't be able to send any letters, but hopefully, when I do, I'll receive a response from you.

-Ethan

Dear 'Flower',

It's been three years since my last letter. I hope you are doing well, and to hear from you soon.

The house is finally built, and I have a bit of a confession to make. Do you remember that silly project we did when we were younger and designed a whole house? That's what I built.

-Ethan

Dear 'Flower',

Anther year has gone by, and I have yet to receive a letter from you. None of them have been returned, so I have no reason to wonder if you are receiving them.

Sometimes I wonder if you moved on without me.

-Ethan

Dear 'Flower',

10 years have passed since I last received a letter from you. I miss you.

This house I built, even with Finn keeping me company, feels so lonely. Maybe I should have been honest from the beginning, instead of just leaving.

This house was built for both of us, int he hope that we'd live here together...forever.

I love you, Flower, and I'll always be here waiting for you.

-Ethan

The letter fell from my shaking hands as I sat down at my desk, pulling out a piece of paper to finally write Ethan a response that was long over due.

I could hardly write anything with how heightened my emotions had become.

Dear Ethan,

I'm so sorry for being late. I love you too.

Always and forever,

-'Flower'

I put on my coat and went straight to the post office.

I wanted to leave and go to Ethan right away, but my mom told me that I needed to stay for more interviews from some government workers.

A week had gone by as I waited for a response to come in the mail.

When it did, I went outside to the hill I first met Ethan on.

I finally opened the envelope and took its contents out. There was a key, but I ignored it as I read the letter.

Dear _____,

I'm Martha, the caretaker of Ethans' estate. He told me to wait for a response from you, and I'm really sorry for having to tell you.

Ethan passed away a few months ago. He got sick during the end of last year and was never able to fully recover. He left everything to you.

-Martha

Tears streamed down my face as I looked up at the sky. It looked the same as it had on the day I first saw Ethan.

"It was on this hill when I fell in love for the first time, and now it's on this same hill my heart has been completely broken."

#Angst #original story #First Post #sad #not a happy ending #i had a dream #i wrote that dream

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sunflowerskittles · 1 year

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The fault line

Stand in the fault line. You are neither of good or evil, this is our design. Withhold firmly the constant flow of evil, one that is your own kind. Keeper of the underworld. Within the line a land of neutrality. Neither good or evil may cross beyond where they belong. Serve yourself as a tall wall. View the burden rather as a blessing. Do not run away, Ryan. Business ties with tradition, a line will forever continue.

When duty is abandoned family promise will no longer prosper. When you stray guide lost souls home, away from the living. Protector of the over-world. Fight and you will carry a blinding light. As you do, a dark shadow will appear beneath you. That is not a curse rather a rule. Light is bound to create corners. But it illuminates depth, and so delusion. Carry forth the glow you owe. Though the price of our offer is what mentality pays.

If you wish to witness miracles. Faith is our accepting currency. Ryan, we will wait. If time exceeds we will push, pull, and persevere. Please have faith in this fate. We promise, good will always be given to the giving. Devote towards your role, a goal was presented to you. This task, appointed to you.

This I feel as if too much..

and I haven’t laid down

all the reasons I want to run

the gate? Passageway of leaving this sick fate

Child play

“Could you not?” “mmm- what’s the matter? This is our thing!” beams a sweet child. “Im not in the right mood. Go play with viktor, he loves your silly games.” “Dont be pushy Ryan.”

“Silver said that? Sorry. Ry, but you got to understand. she’s been on a lot of pressure.” As he kneeled, to Ryan’s height “okay we’ll play, but under my special rules.” Viktor’s cheeky smile caught Ryan’s attention. “I know you! So- no, tricksy bets vik.” Ryan stared demandingly at Vik. sadly, his eyes looked too naive to be left unplayed.

“Viktor’s V spells for victorryyyy.. !” A quiet yell marks the start of a game. Its a cute sight really. Two troublemakers running at the end of the hallway, heading straight to where mama’s room lies. The game was simple, edge the guards to follow them and lead them out the mansion. Gets caught? loses. Last out? loses.

Ryan’s not as fast as his older brother. But dont rule out his quick wit! The boy is full of surprises. Out of all 4 siblings, he spent dwindling down the crevices most.

Alas Viktor, and Silver always win. Ollie is quite young he couldn’t play. Unless they’re looking for mama’s hidden rage. Unforgettable are these days. You dont remember them mostly, but look for these memories and they’ve always remained in your heart.

…

“Quite the play wasn’t it? Sorry try harder- say so heres the losing bet” Go get Ollie’s diaper changed. See there? what I did? Tactical wasn’t it“ Ryan’s voice rose. “You cant make me do your part of the chores!”

“Im sorry Kids, isn’t it best not to yell.” Despite the strength of the voice, those two boys beamed. “Uncle Jay - Jay!” “Mistaken! Im not JJ-” “Look at that sweet mustache” admired Viktor. “Ryan please stop. It took more than effort to grow these.” JJ removed Ryan’s hand from further prickling his face. “Im sorry, boys. I’ll cut to the chase. Is your sister in her room?” “Of course.” Somehow Viktor’s expression falls. Ryan took uncle’s hand to her sister’s room. Only for JJ, leaving him outside the door.

“Heey.. Silvie give your dreadful man a hug!” “Haven’t you told mom that you’ve come here?” “Well, she’s definitely on her way.” A silence fell between the two. “Anyway, sweetie i got the dress. Im here to give it to you.. but is it really bad for me to not visit you?”

As they continued Little Ryan tip-toed to reach the giant keyhole. He couldn’t resist not to listen. “Ryan??” Ryan’s breathing stopped, a voice unmistakably recognized. “Are you, eavesdropping!?” “Mama!” “Unbelievable, Viktor! Go get your brother.”

“Blessed be, JJ! How long has it been..” “Your too kind, Ms. Marie not mentioning my new beard.”

“Im not fond of it. you look like our counterparts.” “Speaking about them, the moon’s as bright as day tonight.” “They’re not real, Silver. Only we are.” Silver’s eyebrow raised “Well someone loves to hate tradition.” “Vik, like I said get Ryan down. You caused enough trouble today.” “-And stop bothering my guards. Mama added “They have been arguing for a raise..” Both Viktor and Ryan eyed each other squeamishly.

“Could you believe it? Those two.. I have always expected better of Ryan” Mama’s voice began to soften and ramble “Such an Inquisitive child. Even the teachers praised him. But seriously, I don’t see anything.” Her voice almost doubtful. JJ looked for a second at the two boys descending slowly down the stairs. “Get off the kids back Marie! Let him spread his tiny wings.”

Silver was always wary of Ryan, from very little. Being an older sibling, she has always been diligently taking notes of all her three brothers. Youngest to oldest in order, Oliver, Ryan, and Viktor. She couldn’t help but notice how Ryan never fails to stood out. Different name, different upbringing. He was for sure not from this family.

If anything she’s only afraid that none of her brothers are truly prepared to grow up in this household. In the rights family, no innocence is spared. You will be amazed in all the wrong ways. “Silvie? Snap out of it!” JJ firmly held her surprised shoulders “There you go, you were gone for a hot minute.” As mama saw the dissapeared dazed look from her daughter, she continued.

"Excuse me Mr. Ryan Rights?" A guard followed behind the curious child. Who surprisingly was listening out through the wrong door. "Your ear is up the wrong keyhole. Bullseye's to your right." Smiled the guard. "Im sorry Mr Know it All, This house got too many roooms!" Ryan's hand raised along his eyebrows and jaws. The lone guard stopped his tracks when the door began to creak.

"Sir Anderson." A white silver haired girl opened the door. "Hello Kiddo"

----------------------------------------------------

this is just a lil novel ive been trying to get down on but i havent had the time.. i think i wrote this back in 2022? but i thought instead of leaving this on my notes, id just post the wip.. i will be finishing this though, i hope ehehhe. these are characters i had for a long time after all. i might come back to this and change a lot of things tho. im still building the story as i go

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blazesartbloglmao · 1 year

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im so sorry (2023 REDRAW)

heyo

if any of you happened to have checked out my youtube channel and scrolled back like 7 years ago, you'd have noticed that 1) ive got a lot of shitty art lmao and 2) i drew this same image all those years ago! ive included the original below the cut, as a way of showing how far ive come in making art since then.

its honestly insane to me that its been 7 years since the initial drawing and not only has the artwork evolved, but so has the story. ive been kind of working on a comic in the background for awhile now, periodically. my books still take precedent and im very much more of a writer than i am a cartoonist, but id love to make this story a reality at some point, even if it'll take a long time.

ill also feature some context under the cut, but for now, i leave you with a link to the speedpaint. said speedpaint took forever to edit and i actually had to loop one of the songs to make it work

anyways, back into the void i go

lucifer (cream cat to the left) and bloodfang (ginger cat to the right) left the city they once called home with a group of other cats, all seeking to escape the cruel cult that reigned supreme, in a post-apocalyptic world where humans died out long enough ago that they've never seen them, but their elders can remember them well enough.

upon reaching this new land, lucifer, who had once been somewhat in a position of power, finds he feels incredibly insecure about what theyre doing now. this new place doesn't value what he's good at (mostly violence and committing atrocities), nor does it hold his belief that only the strong should live. he takes out his aggression on tuft (brown cat in the background), who is doing his best to intergrate himself with the new group of cats that live there.

bloodfang, who was lucifers best friend up until this point, used to share a similar mindset until he went through a few things and learned everything he'd ever thought true was a lie. he attacks lucifer to draw him away from tuft (who is comparatively weaker than those two) and eventually manages to kill him, but not before lucifer brands him in the face with an impressive scar of his own. and, in the eyes of this new group, as a merciless cat killer, capable of turning on anyone at any time.

pictured in the background from left to right are timberheart, dovemist, tuft, rat, ebony and jinx. some of them need design upgrades tbh lmao

and here is the aforementioned original drawing! from 2016 lmao. makes me feel old. anyways, hope you enjoyed!

#art #artwork #digital artwork #digital drawing #drawing #oc #OCs #cat artwork #cat art #cat drawing #illustration #digital illustration #original characters #cat ocs #cat oc art #redraw 2023 #cw: gore

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tinseltine · 2 years

Photo

#3 – BLACK PANTHER: WAKANDA FOREVER | Disney/Marvel | Writer/Director Ryan Coogler |Co-writer Joe Robert Cole - This definitely is the most thoughtful and intentionally aware film of the MCU. Its writer/director Ryan Coogler had his hands full – first he had to allow for audiences as well as cast /crew and Marvel family, proper time to mourn the passing of Chadwick Boseman and his portrayal of Black Panther, both in life and within the film – centering grief, without letting it take over.

He also had to take a vintage comicbook character, Namour (Sub-Mariner) (Tenoch Huerta) and his underworld domain, a form of Atlantis, and make it his own, give it cultural depth. In fact, the film is rich with a mix of cultures as there are 7 Languages spoken throughout the movie. Then everyone said the women of “Black Panther” ruled the original movie; we were all so impressed with Shuri, (Letitia Wright) the Queen Mother Ramanda (Angela Bassett) Nakia, the spy (Lupita Nyong’o) The Dora Milaje, particularly General Okoye (Danai Gurira) but what happens when you actually have to base a movie around the female characters, does it hold up?

On top of all this, by naming the film Wakanda Forever, he had to make us remember how much we all were transported and transfixed with this amazing, self-sufficient, technologically advanced land, and bring back that sense of pride. Of course these concerns are in addition to the regular stuff – CGI, fight sequences, MCU cannon etc.. etc.. etc.. All I can say is Kudos to Coogler and his entire team. The looks, new character introductions, character motivations and trajectories, it’s all just damned impressive! There’s a slight lull as we head into the 3rd act, but that’s so minor considering everything we get!

The overall premise goes back to the importance of vibranium as a perfect power source. Every country on earth wants to get their hands on it, but Wakanda takes their protection of vibranium seriously and does not negotiate. You can see it especially galls the other leaders that a country of black people would be the ones to control this rich resource. They try to take it by force, but when this fails they find a scientist (Riri Williams/Ironheart Dominique Thorne) who’s created a machine that can detect vibranium elsewhere, that elsewhere turns out to be deep in the ocean. This gets the attention of Namor who presents Queen Ramanda and Shuri with a proposition.What I love is when I’m sent the Production Notes for a movie. Cause it’s always full of stuff I like to research anyway. Here’s some quick tidbits:Namor is among Marvel’s oldest characters, (Marvel Comics #1 in 1939) acting both as hero and villain in the years to follow. In this story, he represents Talokan, a hidden underwater civilization (based on Aztec traditions) The fictional world reflects how a real community might have changed and evolved over time, forced underwater and separated from the rest of their people and culture.

The world of Talokan took nearly two years to develop. “We started at the very beginning,” says the production designer. “‘Where are they located? How did they get there? How did they survive?’“Namor’s costumes reflect the tradition that he honors and the position he holds as king. We used a lot of kelp to make his headdress and his hand-woven cape. We added shells and beads—his look gives you a sense that he has traveled through time – Ruth Carter, Oscar Winning Costume Designer.

#black panther wakanda forever #Ruth Carter #Marvel #Ryan Coogler #top 10 list

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happy-quack · 2 years

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I posted 1,929 times in 2022

That's 595 more posts than 2021!

45 posts created (2%)

1,884 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@alex-mercer-rule-63

@miner0rw00zer

@dingdongyouarewrong

@generally-proven

@iwishicouldeatbread

I tagged 879 of my posts in 2022

#context - 115 posts

#classic - 103 posts

#helpful - 69 posts

#supernatural - 48 posts

#tumblr lore - 40 posts

#rollercoaster - 29 posts

#lizzie - 22 posts

#long post - 22 posts

#goncharov - 21 posts

#unreality - 20 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#you know the old addage that aita posts either have an innocuous title with a damning description or a damning title with an innocuous descr

My Top Posts in 2022:

Why don’t they have capital numbers hm?

7 notes - Posted February 17, 2022

I’ve been wanting to name my car forever but I haven’t been able to find the right name. I’ve tried a few names but none of them stuck or felt natural, until today my mind’s latest Reality-Shifting Scenario Generator considered that I’d be picking up a friend later and spat out “what if everyone’s cars turned into horses and you went to pick up your friend with your horse. What would you call that horse” which apparently fucking worked so anyways my car’s name is now Jupiter

7 notes - Posted September 1, 2022

I love old pictures of animals so much. Like when it’s a black and white and faded picture of some people I’m like yeah, those are really old people from a really old era! But suddenly you bring one of those same kinds of photos of a cat and Holy Shit that’s a bona fide friend. I want to pet it now. Transcends time

13 notes - Posted March 17, 2022

I took a walk through a cemetery the other day, and had some profound realizations on how the way we create headstones is a love story to ourselves and those around us.

The other day, I had an extra hour before work, and I’d been itching to get anywhere outside. I live by a few cemeteries, and the Union Cemetery I hadn’t visited yet. It’s a big cemetery that has several roads running through it, so I parked at the front and made my way walking to the back.

I’m walking through the road and looking at all of these graves that have World War I veterans (and presumably people from the civil war era), and it strikes me that cemeteries mainly serve a non-practical purpose. At least in our modern mostly-Christian society, in our treatment of life after death, we largely don’t actually believe that any of the afterlife is attached to the body – the soul or spirit or whatever goes off to somewhere else. Despite this, we still take the time and care to set aside a bit of land where we’re going to keep this person’s old body and mark the fact that they’re there. Why, and who is this for? It doesn’t seem like it could be for them because they’re gone, but it a sense, it still is for them, and at the same time it’s also for us. For them, it’s keeping their memory going, or monumentalizing the fact that they were here, or maybe just making sure that their death doesn’t go unnoticed – it’s making the fact that they’re gone official by leaving a mark in their stead. For us, it’s because we need all of this to be able to resolve the grief surrounding their death. We receive solace from turning grief into the reassurance that their impact lives on in some way, or if anything else, making a spot for us to imagine a constant connection back to them. In other words, we’ve created sacred representations of those that we once loved to fill their absence from our lives.

But as I continued walking through the cemetery and especially when I came upon more modern graves, I started to realize there was even more to it. I noticed so many more combined headstones that marked that members of a family were buried right next to each other. Headstones started to have small symbols or decorations on them that characterized them, made them unique either from important parts of the buried’s lives or just fun designs that they or someone decided should be on the headstone. Even further on, there were pictures of people etched onto the stone, religious iconography, quotes and tributes, and even places marked where a member of the family who hadn’t died yet would eventually be buried. This commemoration and representation of someone’s life started to evolve – we’d taken its function as a way to remember the life of whomever was buried and started to personalize it to infuse even more life and meaning into it. These were things that the deceased had planned too! These were designs where before dying, the people had decided they wanted traces of what made their lives meaningful to be displayed for all those to come after them. They were thinking of everyone who wanted to come by their grave to show their love and said, “this is what I want you to remember me by.” It’s a tribute to themselves and establishing their own memory, but it’s also a thoughtful gesture that shows how prevalent the idea is that people will see your grave after you die, which is such a powerful concept for someone to comprehend. And yet we do it! For the sake of ourselves and for the sake of those that we love, we turn death into a final state of living, and decide what we want our last mark on the world to be, because we’ve decided that’s important to ourselves and to those around us. And I think that’s beautiful – I think it’s a love story to our lives and the lives of those around us.

24 notes - Posted October 20, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

166 notes - Posted November 5, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #really only posting this so everyone can see the spn video again

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jgoddesstarot · 3 years

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Pick-A-Pile: How Will You & Your Future Spouse Be As Parents

👑Check out my masterlist to see all of my pick-a-card readings😊

🔮Disclaimer: This reading is for entertainment purposes only. Tarot readings are based upon my intuitive interpretation of the cards and about possibilities based on your current energy. Energy is forever changing and nothing is set in stone. Always remember, you have your own free will to make whatever decision you feel is best.

🔮 How to select a pile: Close your eyes, focus on the question in your mind, and take three deep breaths–slowly inhaling & exhaling. Open your eyes after the third exhale and let your eyes scan the images again until they land (or keep being drawn to) one. It’s OK to pick multiple piles.

🔮How I read: I use a mix of tarot cards, oracle cards, along with my intuitive abilities of claircognizance, clairaudience, and clairsentience.

Pile 1:

Pile 1, you are going to be the protective (maybe slightly overprotective) parents. You and your future spouse (fs) could have children at an older age so you're overcareful about where your baby goes and what they do. Your child (I'm only seeing one) will be a well behaved child but they definitely want to be their own person! You and your fs will have to learn to let go (as appropriate) as your child gets older and comes into their own. Your child is going to want to spend a semester abroad in college/university and likely do some pretty adventurous (in your eyes anyway) stuff as a young adult as well.

I'm feeling that meditation and breathwork can help you both more easily let go. Remember your child appreciates that you are doting and caring, but try to avoid the smothering part.

Pile 2:

I'm sensing you have a very healthy and balanced dynamic with your fs and that flows through to your children and household. I'm sensing three kids (or two kids and a fur baby). I see a household where you and your fs are both whole and healed in who you are as individuals (this pile has done a lot of self-work/shadow work prior to coming into union with your fs) so you are able to be nurturing, caring, loving, attentive, but give your kids space in the amounts that they need. Because from what I'm getting your kids have wildly different personalities!

And you and your fs have the temperament and ability to effectively manage this. You have rules and standards in your household. You talk to your children like people, and you respect their individuality. One of your children might identify as LGBTQ+ early on and you all seek the proper support on how to raise this child (and your others) with love and respect.

Pile 3:

You and your future spouse (fs) are the free-spirited parents! All of your kids (and I see many! Both born to you, adopted, and foster kids potentially) will have friends who love coming over your house. Your house is filled with art, self-expression, freedom, etc. Don't mistake it, your house has rules and kids know and understand the parameters there. I sense that you or your fs is a graphic artist or designs murals. Paint is apart of your everyday!

You will be parents to many kids throughout your children growing up from kids you raise to kids who come there to get some love, attention, and positivity in their lives because they don't have such a great home environment. You and your fs may not realize it, but you will save many kids from taking a wrong turn in life simply because you took them in at their lowest point and you cared (I'm tearing up as I write this😭)! Trust me, these kids won't forget and a many will thank you in a speech one day at a great achievement in their lives (i.e. go pro as an athlete, win a Nobel Prize, etc.)

You and your fs are beautiful souls Pile 3, keep shining!🌟

🌟 I hope this reading resonated with you! Please reblog & let me (and others know) what pile or piles resonated with you!🌟

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camsthisky · 3 years

Note

"you’re not alone . you’re stuck with me forever . sorry . ” + Jason and Dick (and anyone other family member)?

“Everyone okay?” Dick croaks as the dust and rubble settles around them. He’s lying on his back, kept still by something pinning his legs down. He doesn’t dare assess himself quite yet. “Hood? Batgirl?”

“Okay,” Cass says, and Dick watches as she stumbles over to him, looking dusty, but relatively alright. She kneels next to him with a frown. She meets his eyes—well, relatively since they’re both wearing masks—and asks, “Okay?”

Dick grimaces. “Not really.” Louder, he calls, “Red Hood?!”

“Here, here,” Jason says, coughing into his fist. He’s missing his helmet and there’s a gash sluggishly bleeding from his right cheek, smearing a trail of blood down his face. He’s also limping, but only slightly.

“Can you move?” Cass asks Dick as Jason pulls out his flashlight.

Dick winces at the sudden light, his mask having already automatically switched to night vision. He huffs. “Jay. Off.”

“Names.”

Dick scowls. “The light.”

“Deal with it,” Jason snaps. “My night vision isn’t working.”

Dick turns off his own night vision feature, if only to not be blinded by the damn flashlight if it passes over his eyes again.

That’s when Jason’s flashlight lands on where Dick is pinned.

“Crap,” Jason breathes.

“Can you move them?” Cass asks, sounding a touch more impatient, and Dick realizes that Cass has already asked once. “Your legs.”

“No,” says Dick, just barely trying. He’s tired, but he knows that time is up. He can’t get away with ignoring his own situation any longer. Probably shouldn’t have even waited this long. His legs are tingling from lack of blood flow, mixing with a sharp pain shooting through them both. Still he’s lucky, because—“I can still feel them, though.”

“We’ll lift,” Jason says to Cass, who nods. Dick closes his eyes and braces himself for the inevitable pain of rubble being lifted off his crushed legs.

“Hhh.”

The sounds he makes is nothing more than an agonized hissed through his teeth, and Dick can’t help the cold sweat that sweeps across his body in a slow wave as his siblings manage to move the slab of—wall, maybe? who knows, really—from where it’s crushing his poor legs.

Something taps against his shinbone and then his kneecap.

“Stop, stop, I feel it,” Dick gasps, bringing his legs up in a protective curl as pain throbs through most of his lower body. His left hip hurts like hell, and his every muscle, bone, and tendon feels like they’ve been squeezed and then flattened like a pancake. He rolls over onto his side so he can bring his knees up to his chest, to wait out the lingering intensity of the pain.

“Breathe,” Cass says.

Dick breathes.

He closes his eyes and blocks out everything and, again, just breathes. His siblings let him.

When he has a better grasp on his agony, Dick finally relaxes. The world filters back in. Cass is running fingers through Dick’s dusty hair (something she one hundred percent learned from Bruce, because only a select few know how much the motion tends to calm him down).

On the other hand, Dick blinks his eyes open to find Jason agitatedly pacing.

“The hell?” Jason murmurs, his flashlight whipping back and forth with his movements as he surveys their surroundings. “Did we get completely sealed in?”

Dick wishes desperately he would stop. Even without night vision, Jason’s impromptu strobe light effect is causing Dick’s head to ache. Instead of saying this, he hums contemplatively. “Wonder if there’s a signal this far down.”

Jason huffs, not slowing in the least. He’s searching for something, and dear god does Dick want him to find it already. “You’re the one with the comms in your ear. You try it.”

They’re in the sewers, is the thing. And while Bruce and Babs have designed the comms system to work incredibly well, even in the sewers, the signal still needs to be able to make it to the system in order to be functional.

With the three of them sealed in this place, seemingly with no way out, pretty deep in the sewer system where they had been disabling bombs throughout the city, Dick isn’t optimistic about their chances of getting a signal.

(They’d just been a few seconds too late for that last bomb, which unfortunately led them to their current circumstances.)

While Jason grumbles, Cass activates her emergency signal and the comms. She calls out, “Batman? Oracle?”

Jason shuts up for the five seconds before Cass looks between both Dick and Jason and shakes her head.

Dick lets out a slow exhale through his nose. He hadn’t really held out much hope for that anyways.

Jason groans. “Holy batcannoli, I can’t believe we’re stuck down here. And where’s my hecking helmet?!”

Cass helpfully points to the rubble sealing them in. Jason kicks a rock with a yell. Dick sighs.

“Well, at least you’re not alone down here,” Dick says as optimistically as he can—although, given the circumstances, it does fall a little flat.

Jason snorts. “Right. Sure, Batgirl is an asset, but you’re a sack of bruised bones right now. That’s not helpful in the slightest, Dickface.”

Dick’s eyelashes flutter of their own accord. He hums. “Too bad. Looks like you’re stuck with me. Sorry.”

“Dick,” Cass says, her fingers tracing lightly over his face. “Stay awake.”

“I am awake.”

“You’re starting to—” Cass pauses. Dick can’t see the look on her face, because somehow, his eyes have fully closed without his permission, and he can’t seem to find the strength to open them again. “—to slur.”

The sounds of Jason’s pacing stop. Silence rings loud in their sealed section of the sewers. Then, “Did he hit his head?”

“Not sure,” Cass answers.

“Dick,” Jason says, sounding quite a bit closer, like he’s maybe crouching down next to Cass or something—but Dick hadn’t heard him move, and Jason’s boots are too clunky to not make sound against the concrete. “Dick, did you hit your head?”

Dick’s eyebrows furrow, but he doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t remember hitting his head. The only thing he clearly remembers about the blast is heavy pieces of rubble crushing his legs. “Maybe?”

“Great,” Jason says. He’s pulling out his I’m-rolling-my-eyes-at-your-ridiculous-incompetency voice. “So my bruised bones of a big brother probably also has a concussion. Just great.”

“It’s not his fault he’s injured,” Cass tells Jason. “He was disarming the bomb.”

Which means Dick took the brunt of the blast when it was remotely activated.

Dick really means to tack onto Cass’s statement, maybe tease Jason a little and try to reassure both his younger siblings that not everything is hopeless, because he’s the best big brother ever, of course.

Only, he can’t find the strength to open his mouth and talk. Instead, the voices around him become watery, distorted, and Dick’s head flares in pain.

When unconsciousness comes to take him, he doesn’t resist.

—

“—manage to even find us in the first place?” is the first thing Dick hears as he swims back to consciousness. Jason almost sounds relieved.

“The seismic device didn’t just affect the sewers,” someone replies. It takes a lot of effort for Dick to recognize it as Tim. “A couple buildings partially collapsed, and since we knew the three of you were down here, it was a good starting point to look when none of you would answer the comms.”

“Huh,” is all Jason says.

“Nightwing,” Bruce says, startling Dick from the dazed lull he’d been in as he listened to his brothers talking. He opens his eyes, blinking up bewilderingly at what he can see of Bruce’s face behind the cowl.

“B?” Dick murmurs. He doesn’t move, yet, from where’s curled on his side, but he feels an abortive twitch of his fingers at the reassuring sight of Batman. “‘S goin’ on?”

“What do you remember?”

Right. Bruce did not give easy answers. Life is a series of puzzles, Dick Grayson, fueled by none other than Bruce Wayne himself.

Dick frowns and casts his mind back. “The wall blew up,” he decides. “I got hurt?”

He’s only half sure about that last one, but considering his position on the ground, the throbbing in his head and hip, and Bruce’s concerned dad frown that’s taking over his Batman grimace, Dick thinks that he’s probably on the right track.

“Concussion,” Cass says, startling Dick when she pops her head over Bruce’s shoulder. “Also, ‘a sack of bruised bones.’”

That—sounds familiar. He thinks he remembers Jason saying something like that.

Bruce’s frown gets deeper. “Straighten your legs.”

“Please,” Dick tacks on for Bruce when he lacks the manners to be nice, basically on instinct at this point, even as he—slowly, and with a great deal of agony—does what Bruce tells him to do.

They go through a couple more tests, until finally Bruce, unhappy, deems, “We need to move you.”

Dick blinks when Bruce turns away to murmur something to one of the others. A conversation washes over him, and Dick can’t help but let himself tune it out. The noise settles as vague humming—indistinct and comforting.

“—two, three,” Bruce says as Dick’s entire vision goes white.

He only manages to come back to himself in increments.

There are arms holding him tight. Familiar murmurs in his ear. The comforting sound of Batman’s heavy cape brushing against concrete.

“—there, Chum,” Bruce is saying, and if Dick had the capability, he would have teased Bruce for pulling out both the concerned dad frown and the concerned dad voice in one night.

As it is, the only thing that comes out of his mouth when he opens it are harsh pants for air. Every step jostles him, and agony is his constant companion throughout the entire journey to the surface.

Somehow, Dick is still conscious when he’s laid down in the backseat of the batmobile. He’s grateful he’s not moving anymore, and carefully doesn’t think of the upcoming ride back to the Cave.

He only really starts to relax when Bruce settles the cape over him. Wrapped up inside it, Dick almost feels like he’s ten years old again. Batman’s has always felt like warmth and protection and home. This time is no different.

“Batgirl and Robin, keep Nightwing as still as possible. Red Hood, in the front. Start updating Oracle.”

“Why do they—”

“You’re too bulky, Hood. Me and Batgirl are smaller than you. It’s still going to be a tight fit, but it’s the most comfortable for everyone this way.”

“Whatever.”

“Enough. Car. Now.”

There’s lots of careful but hurried scrambling. Dick thinks he passes out a few times on the way back. He doesn’t remember much, either. Just bits and snatches here and there—His siblings talking to him, Bruce giving orders, Jason being snappy and unwittingly dragging Tim into an argument.

And then—he wakes up. A lot more clear-headed than he’d felt the last time he’d been conscious (though, that wasn’t saying much).

To Dick’s surprise, he’s on his side again, dressed in sweats with a pillow between his legs. He opens his eyes to the Wayne Manor living room, and—yes, he’s on the couch. The curtains are drawn, but it’s clearly sometime past sunrise.

Bruce is sitting cross-legged in front of him, reading a book.

“Bruce?” Dick calls, his voice still somewhat slurred. “Why’m I on the couch?”

“You started crying when I said you had to stay in the infirmary,” Bruce tells him, grabbing a bookmark and setting his book off to the side.

Dick frowns. He doesn’t remember that. Still, he manages to say, “You’re such a pushover.”

“How do you feel?”

Dick blinks a dozen times in a row, trying to assess his body and keep up with the change in subject. “Kinda woozy. My hip hurts a lot.”

“Hn.”

“Think I need to brush up on my Bat speak,” Dick murmurs. “Dunno what that one meant.”

Bruce hums again. “You’re incredibly lucky. We’ll need to be careful for the next few weeks.”

“What’s the diagnosis, doc?”

“Crush injuries to your legs and left hip. Not overly severe, and we managed to stabilize you once we realized you were in shock.”

Dick thinks about that for a second. “Concussion? I’m pretty sure I remember something about a concussion.”

“It’s mild,” Bruce tells him. “It was the shock that was the real problem.”

“Oh.” Dick sighs into the pillow under his head. “I’m tired.”

Bruce gives him a soft smile, just slight enough that if Dick hadn’t been so familiar with Bruce’s microexpressions, he would have thought he’d been mistaken. Fingers lightly card through his hair, and Dick’s eyes start closing of their own accord.

“Then sleep,” Bruce says.

Dick sleeps.

#dick grayson #jason todd #cassandra cain #bruce wayne #batclan #dc #camryn writes #brambleberrycottage #thank you for the prompt and your wonderful support!!!!

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