#but that’s probably still less painful than tinder

[edamamedufflebag]

okay but glen and zylenol were literally boyfriends right? they got wallace wells to voice one of them, they know.

THEY MUST BE BOYFRIENDS I SWEAR

Okay on rewatch I felt more charmed by the silvercops storyline, I’m amazed they made me manage to like Glen despite his personality being “the most boring guy you know” and “car”

But as soon as I saw Zylenol I was like, if this isn’t some slow burn romance where they discover who they really are through each other…

[kidasthings]

Echoes of Eden by Kida

Noa x Mae - #thatcampfireisnttheonlyslowburn

Chapter 2: https://www.tumblr.com/kidasthings/750737651564478464/echoes-of-eden-by-kida

Next Chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/kidasthings/751482584388829184/echoes-of-eden-by-kida?source=share

Chapter 3

They didn’t make it back to the village that night.

The small group of apes and the single human amongst them decided to set up camp before proceeding further into the midnight woods. The apes were tired; they had traveled many hours by foot, had a rather tense, life-threatening confrontation, and found the return trip too arduous to complete overnight.

The navy sky was littered with a splatter of stars, each winking in and out like fireflies. The group stopped at a tree-lined grove, the symphony of crickets and frogs serenading the night world. A breeze stirred the fingers of the trees overhead and leaves whispered secrets.

Noa gave the signal to stop, a welcome relief to Anaya. The poor ape was still shaken from the encounter with the Fort Wayne five and wanted time to recuperate. Soona gave a long, contemplative stare at Noa before her dark eyes darted to Mae with an equally dark look. Mae had trailed behind, following the simians like a sad shadow. The whole affair gave her a flashback to the time she spent on the heels of Raka and Noa before they had ascertained her intelligence to be that of more than a mere animal.

And now the creatures she considered beasts once-upon-a-time began to nest, gathering sticks and branches from the forest floor to create a few widely-spaced fires. Mae found Noa offset from the others, throwing dry tinder into a cluster as if he were waiting for her.

For a moment, she was brought back to the far-flung moment when he first gave her the blue blanket as she hovered, freezing, as close as she dared to a fire attended by a strange orangutan and distrustful chimp.

Raka.

She allowed herself to feel a bright burst of pain, sharp as a supernova, and then suppressed it. It was her fault he was swept away, after all.

He wouldn’t be gone if Sylva hadn’t been searching for her.

He wouldn’t be gone if she had found them another route besides that old bridge.

And he most certainly wouldn’t be gone if he hadn’t tried to save her life.

Yes, Raka’s death was on her. Two years ago, she would have said good riddance. One less ape on this planet was one more chance at humanity regaining a foothold within it.

And now? She felt nothing but regret she would never, ever admit to. Her fingers drifted upwards, their calloused tips running over the embossed pendant still hanging over her neck.

Noa looked up then, his gaze catching on the placement of her fingers over the necklace against her heart.

“Cold?” he inquired gruffly.

Fighting back another memory, Mae just nodded silently. She crept closer to the campfire, just as Noa ignited it in a burst of hungry flame.

“Why are you … traveling back with us?” he asked nonchalantly, as if he were only discussing the weather with an acquaintaince. There was a stick in one of his long-fingered hands, and he used it to stoke the fire and send up a spray of sparks.

“We need to talk,” she told him, settling down in a cross-legged position nearby. Noa leaned against a tree, not too far away, but Mae still felt there were miles between them.

Probably for the best.

“About?”

Staring stonily at the flickering light before her, Mae swallowed thickly. “I’d like you to let me look through their supplies.” Her eyes slid sideways in their sockets, assessing his reaction carefully.

Noa stilled. A few seconds skated by, and then he snapped the stick he was using as a poker in two and threw both halves into the fire. “I can’t do that.”

“It doesn’t belong to you.”

It didn’t belong to the apes. The same old, tired argument between them.

“Will you ever trust anyone?” Noa asked suddenly, sharply. His stare could cut glass.

Mae jerked her head up, jaw tense at the reprimand. She gritted her teeth, then jerked her head sideways and shuttered her eyes. “It’s not that kind of world that we live in.”

“It could be.” His voice is horrifyingly gentle.

Mae returned her attention to him again, the bright highlights in her wide, blue eyes jittering. The reflection of the fire danced on her face, creating an intense interplay of light and shadow.

“Raka…”

“Raka is dead,” she drilled back, cutting Noa off.

He nodded quietly, agreeing on that number. His light eyes were distant, a glazed look on his furred face. She hated seeing it that way.

“Please, let me look through the things you confiscated from them.”

“Why, Mae?” Noa’s features were calm, serene even, but his voice contained a dangerous edge. She caught a rustle of fur and realized he had stood up. He prowled closer, leaving her to crane her head back as he loomed over her. “What is so … important to you, to them?” His voice had something like heat in it, a nearly seductive slant she had never heard from him before.

She was imagining things. Certainly he wouldn’t…

The brunette found she couldn’t trust her own body’s responses. Her heart sped up, pounding in her ears, and she broke out in goosebumps as he stooped before her and crossed his arms so that his palms rested off his knees. He was so close she could probably breathe him in if she wanted to.

The two watched each other, spellbound, and then the dark downward slash of his mouth kicked up a little. “Well?”

“I think..” she began, completely at a loss of what to think. She could see the erratic pattern at the center of his iris this close, the burst of amber that bled into green. His eyes were really beautiful; the thought shattered her focus entirely.

Sputtering nonsensical noise, she scuttled backward on unsteady hands. “It’s nothing to you, trust me. It’s important to us.”

You. Us.

Other.

Noa grimaced. “Always back to that,” he sighed wistfully, turning his head back to regard the fire in moody contemplation. He seemed to mull over his next words, and then he spoke up when he was ready. “I will … make a deal with you.”

Mae forgot her unease for a moment and leaned closer, the damp soil shifting beneath her. “Yes?”

“You can look through … their things…”

Mae visibly brightened, an eager look painting her features.

“But…”

The hopeful expression vanished. “But what?”

“You cannot take anything. You will be … watched.” With a soft grunt, Noa moved back to his prior spot next to the fire.

Mae struggled to speak, and it took her three tries before she could formulate something coherent. “That won’t work. I need it!”

“Explain,” Noa retorted, exhaustion creeping into his rough tone. He seemed weary of the same, circular arguments.

“It’s...” Mae gave into an attempt to make him understand in a context he could comprehend. Noa was intelligent, yes, but he hadn’t been exposed to human technology, much less trained on it, like she had been. “We were expecting them.”

“We?”

“There are others like me. Sort of.” Mae made a frustrated motion with her hands, wringing them before her. “We made contact with that group and they travelled here to find us. They have something that will help us.”

Noa shot her a startled look over the tops of the licking flames. “How will it … help you?”

This is where Mae grew mute. She could not possibly verbalize the very thing that would not be beneficial to Noa. Instead, she took up a cross-legged position again and basked in the bobbing heat of the fire. “We used to be intelligent. We could speak. All of us.”

Noa blinked. “We came across books … in the vault,” he began slowly, like she might spook. “There were symbols in them. Ape..” He touched his chest, then pointed to her with two fingers and an extended arm. “Echo.”

Mae nodded encouragingly.

“The apes were trapped. Echoes watched the trapped … apes.” A gusty sigh followed and he shook his head, trying to dismiss the recollection of that time in that damnable metal hell hole. “No paradise … for apes.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Mae agreed, brooking no argument.

Noa scowled into the fire, and then shifted closer to Mae. “Echoes kept apes in pens.”

“You were like the humans are now, back then,” the woman provided carefully. “Something terrible happened and we became like animals. We deserve to reclaim our technology, our things, our lives..”

Our place.

“Will the things those humans came with … help you do that?” Noa queried, ever observant. “Will you find an … answer in their supplies?”

“A solution to help us, yes.” Mae grew quiet. It was no solution that would benefit Noa, but he did not need to know that just yet.

“How should I trust you and yours … not to harm us?” Now that the tables were turned, Mae found she had no answer. She watched him gloomily, her eyes narrowed. He came closer again, the long digits of his hand reaching for the pendant around her neck. “Caesar would want peace, so Raka would say.” Noa’s eyes burned holes into the diamond-star symbol of the pendant as he turned it thoughtfully with his hand.

Unbidden, Mae’s hand reached up and encircled his across the back of his hairy knuckles. They remained like that, her cross-legged before the fire with Noa leaning all of his weight on the closed fist of one arm while the other held Caesar’s medallion.

Her touch burned.

Their eyes met over the length of the chain, and once again neither could look away.

“Promise me,” he entreated huskily, his eyes darting desperately over her too-human face. “Promise me you will … look, not take.”

Mae wasn’t even sure what they were talking about anymore. She found herself giving in all-too-easily.

“I promise only to look,” she affirmed, lips half-parted in wonder. Breathing became a difficult thing.

Noa nodded slowly, an incline of his head. He seemed mollified, if partially, and leaned closer still as Mae trembled. He was so close, he could --

“Noa?” a female voice cut the moment like a sharp knife, cleaving it in two.

Two pairs of heads swept sideways to take in the unexpected speaker. Mae broke away first, pushing herself backward while a bright red bloom stained her cheeks.

Noa was less reactive. He gave the human woman a long, telling look before dropping into a crouch and turning to Soona. “Yes?”

“Would you like to join us … at our fire?” the female ape asked. “Anaya has finally fallen asleep.” Notably, her invitation only seemed to be extended to Noa. She did not look once in Mae’s direction.

Noa seemed to turn it over in his mind, examining all angles. Mae dropped her gaze and concentrated on the fire instead, shifting her expression into careful lines.

“No, not now,” she heard Noa tell Soona with no small measure of finality.

There was a poignant quiet, and then Soona must have acknowledged him through sign or a nod; Mae heard the female ape move off, the dead leaves crackling beneath her feet before fading away entirely.

“Mae,” Noa said simply.

She glanced up at the sound of her name.

“We have a deal.”

Mae pursed her lips, watching Noa's inscrutable face for a small eternity before she gave a lift of her chin.

Raka might be gone, but perhaps his influence wasn’t.

[cressidascowper]

CREATOR TAG GAME

bringing this back bc i think it's fun 🤭

pick your 5 favorite gif sets of 2023 that got less than 1k notes and then pick 10 gifsets of someone else's that got less than 1k notes.

mine:

this alicent hightower set bc i love the guts album for her and the cassette tape effects along with the ripped paper effects were super fun to play with

my beloved ladies (phoebe, rachel, & monica)!!! i just love them sm

natasha romanoff's tinder page was a random thought that came to my head and v proud of how it turned out :D

this yennefer set is one of my most prized possessions. the blending alone took me so long and i'm happy w the way it looks

the blending of this anidala set nearly killed me...and this is one of the only times i've ever done a quadruple blend

others:

i am OBSESSED with this star wars set by @edwards-teach...the coloring is just so stunning and i love the simplicity of the quotes in a box!

this star wars set by @padme-amidala is probably the best thing i have ever seen. the amount of blends and transitions and coloring is just mind blowing! seriously a piece of art work. still can't get over that erika made this set for me <3

becca's (@yenvengerberg) gifs always leave me speechless but this yen and tissaia set just has a special place in my heart..the quote, the colors, the blending, the transitions are all just perfection and capture the relationship so well 🥹

this alicent set by @saws2004 lives in my mind rent free. i absolutely ADORE the way the quote flows through the layout, so well done. the blending and the use of b&w is just superb. honestly one of my fav sets ever i could just stare at it all day

i LOVE the typography in this anidala set by @cal-kestis...nik is just a photoshop wizard and her creativity always blows me away. the blue and orange go so well together and nik's ability to combine multiple fonts is perfection.

this yennefer set by @ughmerlin is so so pretty!! the colors are so soft and the song matches yennefer perfectly. i also love the transition from b&w to color chefs kiss. & the font choice is just lovely.

umm hello??? this shang chi set by @simoneashley is gorgeous. the amount of time this must have taken was so worth it bc the colors are so so vibrant. i always love a good rainbow set esp when the coloring is this amazing!!

this house of the dragon set by @lady-arryn is so beautiful. the coloring and sharpening is just so soft and ethereal. and this particular blue/orange combo is wonderful. i am particularly obsessed with the blending of second gif..its just SO pretty.

my beloved triss!! this triss merigold set by @genyazafin is amazing i love it sm. i love the blue and orange and the way the coloring captures the darkness of the show. also the blending of the last gif is just so satisfying

screeeeeaaaaam this natasha and yelena set by @rosamndpike is just pURE pAin and is also rly rly pretty. the blending is flawless and i love the song + scene pairing choices. the typography alignment and placement is also super unique and satisfying

+ one more because i can – this regina set by bestie @morgana-pendragon is just teehee amazing. i love the trio of term idea and those three words fit regina perfectly (esp the 1st and 3rd lol).. the purple coloring is so her and is so well done

no pressure tagging all the people above & @singularities @moirainesedai @rebecca-weltons & anyone else who wants to do this !

[sidespromptblog]

The Accident

Warning: Medical scene, mention of broken bones, blacking out (once mentioned), cast, and Logan angst.

Summary: While out on a date with Remus and Janus, Logan falls and hurts his wrist.

Word Count: 1,631

“Are you sure that it’s alright?” Janus asked suspiciously, as his cold fingers gingerly touched the tinder flesh of Logan’s wrist. His eyes were narrowed as if he was already on high alert to see if Logan was going to dare even lying about something like this.

“It looks a little swollen,” Remus helpfully added, circling around them like a wild hyena protecting his little pack, his eyes barely stood still long enough to even get a glimpse of Logan’s wrist.

But when he did, without a moment’s worth of hesitation…

He cringed every time.

That should have told Logan everything he needed to know about the situation. Remus wasn’t making jokes, and was well past being worried. Janus was using his literal body as a shield so that no one could even dare to get close, and there wasn’t the slightest bit of sarcasm coming from him. Logan should have been more worried about the state of his wrist, in his writing hand no less. But all he could feel was the sharp throbbing of where Janus’ grip was, and the occasional fleeting touch from where Remus would look over his shoulder and down at his injury.

Stupid.

He had been so stupid.

Of course there would still be patches of ice, even with the weather being over the standard freezing of thirty-two. The wind chill matched with it being later time of day should have made it obvious, he had been too careless. Too…

Stupid.

“Logan?” Remus’ worried voice struck up again, as he took up the position on his other shoulder. “You’re not going to black out again are you?”

Ah yes, that one moment of pitch darkness the moment his head had connected with the frozen sidewalk. He doubted that any of them wanted to recall that, especially given the way that Janus had screamed and he had come to being cradled in Remus’ arms like a limp noodle.

Swallowing thickly Logan attempted a smile. “It hurts,” He honestly said, because what was the point in lying with a human lie detector right in front of him. “But, I’m sure that once we return back to Thomas’ mind, the injury will go away. Just like they’ve done before in the imagination… right?”

An uncertain whine curled in Remus’ throat, like he was a dog that had been left chained outside on a rainy day.

That alone told Logan that even he wasn’t exactly sure just how much the imagination could and couldn’t cure.

“No.” Janus firmly shook his head, “If we don’t know then there’s no use in going back and just causing you more pain. We’ll…” Here Janus grimaced just a little bit, the scales in his face shifting into something more socially acceptable. “We’ll have to take you to the hospital for an X-ray…”

Two groans accompanied this declaration.

It was almost three hours later that Logan was able to see the doctor in question.

But by far the most annoying and anxiety inducing tribulation was the fact that he had to be separated from the other two sides when he needed to have the X-ray done. Which he had known going in, of course he had known it. But knowing it and actually having to do it we’re two entire different things. When it had come to him leaving the mind space, he had never been alone. Usually he’d had Thomas, or some of the other sides to accompany him on his days out and to be without them for some terrifying and quite painful procedure, was… scary.

He was scared, and also quite a bit embarrassed about the whole ordeal.

Sitting back in the doctor’s office with both Janus and Remus on either side of him waiting for whatever news was to come, made him feel both worse and better at the same time.

“I’m sorry.” He finally mumbled, a bolt of shame ramming itself into his guts.

A part of him wasn’t even sure what to be sorry for, but another part deep and loathing knew exactly what he was apologizing for.

Janus who had been staring ahead at the posters decorating the walls immediately snapped his attention back to Logan, his brows furrowing for a moment before an unreadable expression took over his face. It was an expression that both Remus and Logan knew all too well. “Sorry?” Janus asked, his voice carefully clipped. “For what might I ask.” Having just started he shifted his entire body to face Logan. “For having an accident? For slipping? For falling? For doing something that wasn’t your fault to begin with?”

Behind him Remus cringed back, they both knew what was coming.

“I ruined our day.” Logan tried to argue, trying being the key word there.

Just for Janus to immediately shake his head, his cold fingers seeking out Logan’s cheeks and cupping them carefully enough to avoid the scrapes on his face. The look on his face was adoring and yet exasperated at the same time, as his eyes watered but no tears seemed to fall in Logan’s presence.

“You,” Janus choked out, “Didn’t ruin anything. We can always have another day, hopefully with you being hurt a little less. It’s okay Logan… I promise. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Behind him Remus dug his fingers into the fabric of Logan’s thick winter coat as he buries his face into the logical side’s neck. His bristly whiskers tickled as he merely held Logan in place, bestowing all the love he could possibly give to him.

A laugh then shook Remus’ middle, “Hopefully Thomas has insurance.” His muffled voice finally got out.

And just like that the other two sides were tearfully giggling, knowing that thanks to Virgil’s worrywart tendencies Thomas had the best possible medical insurance he could get. And whether Logan knew it or no, which he did, he was technically going to be committing insurance fraud simply by the fact that he looked so much like Thomas.

Almost another several hours later though, with a dark blue cast now seated on his hand and wrist with the instructions to come back in a months time it was time to go home.

“So,” Remus popped the word out of his mouth, as he took up the duty of spoon feeding Logan some ice cream before they actually had to go back. “What are you going to tell the others, you know… about the cast and everything?” There was a quick glance shared between him and Janus. “The truth?”

It took genuine effort to not snort in Remus’ face after swallowing his mouthful of ice cream, and by a lot of effort it obviously meant that he coughed right into the crook of his arm in an attempt to hide it.

“No.” Logan answered back almost immediately, “Are you kidding me?! Virgil would never let me leave the house again if I came back looking like this. Roman would more than a little bit blame you. Patton would go along with it, in an effort to keep me ‘out of harm’s way’, and Thomas would just be concerned.” He gestured with his newly casted arm, they all knew that if it was discovered that Logan had left to go on a date with Janus and Remus, and had come back with a broken wrist they would be dramatic as possible when it came to any future dates with the dark sides.

He wouldn’t allow that.

Janus hummed as he nodded his head, his lips twisting just a little at the unpleasant thoughts that came with the scenario that Logan had just explained. “So what are you going to do?”

Surely Logan couldn’t just hide in his room until a month passed, and then get the cast off.

“I’ll just stay in my room until it’s time to get the cast off,” Logan shrugged, “I’ll put a sticky note on the door saying that I’m working on a big project and I don’t want to be disturbed. They usually listen to my sticky notes, a lot better than me since there’s no actual listening involved.”

“Are they threatening, these sticky notes?” Remus teased.

Instead of replying to his teasing with a retort Logan merely rolled his eyes, grabbing the front of Remus’ shirt to pull him in for a short sighted kiss.

“You know,” Remus mumbled in between kisses, “You can just stay with us right? The couch is always open for you, and so is any of our bedrooms.”

Logan pecked one last kiss on the corner of the creative side’s mouth, a warmth stirring in his chest at the offer of another place to stay if he wished to.

But…

It would be easier to recover in his own bedroom without Janus’ or Remus’ room effecting him in anyway, and recovering from a broken wrist on the couch didn’t exactly sound like fun to him.

“I know Rem,” The warmth he felt blossomed onto his face as a loving smile. “And rest assured you and Janus will see me in this month. But my room is probably easier for me.”

Satisfied with his answer, Janus nodded as he threw away the plastic spoons and cups that they had been eating from. Finally ready to head on back to the mind space, as both he and Remus held tight to Logan’s hands on the way back. It’d be a while before they could go on another date again, and maybe a little bit longer before it was anywhere in the wintertime again. But that was okay, because he could wait.

So with him lovingly holding onto the blue cast that kept Logan’s broken hand safe from the world, Janus felt at peace for the first time since the accident.

Everything would be okay.

[herenortherenearnorfar]

This Tornado Tolerates And Respects You

A little story about Gothmog and orcs that I’ll probably put on other sites later. But for now, a tumblr exclusive! CW for the terrible reproductive politics of evil (implied reproductive coercion, forced childbearing, light eugenics), orc awfulness, disdain for incarnates, radiation poisoning, chemical weapons, Fingon’s fate, mentions of cannibalism, malnourishment, ear cropping, and all of the above with the implied harm to children.

Orcs, Lord Melkor’s special pet project, a blasphemy first and a strategic asset second, didn’t make the best troops. They could swarm over a target in a useful mass of bodies but they lacked skill and drive. For the Captain of Angband’s own force of fire and shadow, spirits sprung free from the tyranny of the Valar, orcs were a sea of troublesome bodies, cluttering up the field of battle. More flesh to whip through, barbed wire quick, more lungs to choke with lime gas. An annoyance, not an ally.

He didn’t have very high expectations of them as a source of soldiers and there were very few individual orcs who he respected. Gorfaunt was one of those rare exceptions.

They’d fought on the same battlefield under the taunting stars, in those blissful days before the heavens changed, and he’d been impressed by the orc commanders ability to marshal troops. Very few in that division ended up trampled beneath Balrog feet. Even the retreat was prompt, almost orderly, without sacrificing that wild spirit which was one of the orcs’ few redeeming qualities.

When it came time to capture the stripling-king of the elves he’d requested Gorfaunt’s orcs in particular. Once again they’d proven their mettle and the commander had become of of the Captain’s favorites. If orcs had to be stationed next to their betters it was preferable that it be Gorfaunt’s orcs, who knew how to comport themselves and could fight near Balrogs without dying in droves.

Now with the latest glorious battle (and another successful collaboration, the Captain still glowed at the memory of the Noldor’s latest king cracking open to spill his red insides over his silver banner) behind them and Lord Melkor demanding Nargothrond and Gondolin, they met once a month to strategize, share intelligence, and complain about everyone else. To an outsider they might have passed as friends. There was less formality between the two of them than another high general of the iron fortress might have demanded, they sat at the same table and spoke freely.

(The Lieutenant still asked commanders to bow before him; that was why even his own troops called him Sauron behind his back. Gothmog was a superior appellation, less insulting, more fearful, but he still didn’t hasten to encourage its use.)

Despite their surface level amicability and the handful of tried-and-true inside jokes—mostly having to do with how enemies had died— they could bat at each other, they knew very little about each other’s lives. Meat and smoke only mixed when making a brisket, trying to relate two such different ways of being seemed impossible.

But when he saw Gorfaunt waddling into their monthly kvetch with a belly round and swollen like a tick’s, the Captain felt driven to say something. He was the marshal of Angband, he couldn’t let his king’s forces go to seed.

“Are you ill? Cursed?”

Gorfaunt managed to pull out a chair, made for a Balrog three times the size of an orc, and hoist themselves into it with rangy arms. “No? Just five months with a baby kicking around in my insides. The little bugger’s finally starting to show itself.”

That took a second to decipher. “You’re having a baby?”

Of course the Captain knew the basics of how incarnates made more of themselves. It was a topic of great fascination in the old days, when Yavanna was first figuring the system out, and of course the Lieutenant would prattle on about warg breeding to anyone who’d listen. They had sex— another thing that did not come naturally to beings of spirits, though some Maiar had made astounding progress in the field, for pleasure was pleasure and even Nienna’s acolytes sought catharsis and comfort—then there was lots of squishy biology on a level invisible to the incarnates themselves, then a little parasite was somehow blessed with Erú’s fire, to be nurtured until it could nurture itself.

He also knew that orcs, like elves and dwarves, had little distinction between men and womenfolk. Useful when it meant you could channel your entire adult population to battle. Startling when you realized that a key ally had been quietly pregnant for months without you, a greater being able to perceive stalactites growing and the scales on insect wings, noticing.

In truth he’d been doing a lot less noticing of late. His senses were dulling. Perhaps it was the light of the cursed gems, which painted everything in blinding, indistinguishable holiness. Or he was just losing his touch.

If he focused now he could see it. It was easiest to sense on the plane of wraiths. There was Gorfaunt, a guttering candle; wheezing, weak. All orcs had that fire, however dim. No one had managed to fully extinguish it though it had been much suppressed. Tucked against her, nearly imperceptible, was a little spark. Not much yet but given tinder and carefully fanned it could grow. “You’re having a baby,” he marveled.

Gorfaunt’s face was… orcs were hard to read at the best of times, bubbling over with noisy pain and anger that obscured their true emotions, prone to skin diseases and horrendous eye infections that muddled their expressions. She didn’t wear her gas mask around him anymore, though most were quick to cover up around any Maia of Morgoth. It helped little, her face was still opaque as the mountain itself. “Yep, Captain.”

“Good?” You congratulated an ally on a new weapon, a new bond, a promotion. Which one was an infant classified as? What was the correct form?

“Hopefully it’ll be over and the little goblin will be in the caves with the old’uns by the time we find either of the cities.” Gorfaunt provided, only barely contextualizing his felicitations. She was chewing on the inside on her cheek; sometimes she would gnaw until she spat black blood. “Terrible time for it. Terrible time. But the high ups are worried about reinforcements down the line, I suppose.”

Orcs came from orcs. It was a fact so simple it barely bore considering. Another department handled it. The new ones just showed up, springy and long limbed, faces still soft and unmarred. “Goblins” he’d heard older orcs call those fresh pale creatures. Barely even monsters, more like stunted, crepuscular versions of the elves and dwarves they fought.

“How much longer?” They had a few good leads on Nargothrond, a promising word about Túrin Turambar. The Captain could not sack that city himself, the honor had already been promised to the sulfurous worm. Apparently they wanted to test the mettle of these dragons. But Gothmog could assign a few good orc commanders to supervise, make sure the worm was not overstepping his bounds.

Dark blood trickled out of the corner of Gorfaunt’s mouth. “Five months, I’m told. Could be more, could be less. Then I have to wait until the thing is independent enough to leave alone, that’s another few months.” She was probably counting months as the orcs had started to, by the moon. Wretched traitor, Tilion, who’d laughed with them at the idea of running away then turned his face when the time came to flee for freedom. They hated it as much as everyone else but in their hatred they were aware of its cycles. They rejoiced when it went dark.

“You’ll still be able to manage your underlings?” Orcs, and freed Maiar, were fractious. They did not respect a leader who lacked the strength to force them to obey. It could be exhausting. And Gorfaunt was already so round. The Captain did not wish to lose her support over one orcling.

“I think so. So far… in old days you’d den up somewhere for a year, avoid everyone prowling for blood, but I don’t want to fight my way up the ranks again. I’ve got an ax and I’m using it.” Despite that she sounded tired.

Long heartbeats stretched between them, that exquisite embarrassment of two coworkers suddenly forced to talk about private affairs.

“This is your first,” the Captain didn’t reach the tone of a question with that one.

“Yes. The recruiters were getting growly so I grabbed a fellow. I’ve been avoiding it for too long.”

“You don’t want a child.” Again, not quite a question. He was feeling it out as he goes along. This is the longest conversation about orc reproduction he’s ever paid attention to, for the Lieutenants diatribes we’re always dull.

It was no matter to him, except that this was the only orc commander he could tolerate working with and she was chewing through her own cheek in discomfort.

“They take something from you,” Gorfaunt admitted. “Dame and sire both, but worse for the dame since she has to carry the clot. You go… stretchy. Bleached like old bone. I’ve seen soldiers and after twenty children they’re not good for anything but shoving onto a line of pikes. Raw meat for the wargs.”

That didn’t make sense to him, but he was never a scholar of flesh or spirit. He knew how a skull split and how a soul fled, how this matter-sprung life withered, how it died. That was all that counted. He also knew how to value a resource.

“There won’t be any after this,” he said firmly. “Not if you don’t want them.” If need be he’d escalate to Lord Melkor, frame it as sapping strength from their command structure and propose making officers off limits from breeding programmes.

“As you command, Captain,” she said with a bowed head, but she looked gratifyingly relieved, and their conversation could finally move on to the latest stories of occupied territories and the search for the hidden cities.

The next few months Gorfaunt somehow managed to get bigger and bigger, until she was no longer able to swing herself into a chair and had to take their meeting standing. Her leather armor no longer fit and with just a thin layer of rags over her distended stomach it was easy to see the squirming creature inside.

Ferocious little animal. It would go so still and then kick out again, as if it could burst free of its creator by force of will alone. The kernel of its mind was forming too, a hazy bubble of sensation and half formed emotion. He could see what had the Lieutenant fascinated. It wasn’t his field but it was morbidly interesting, seeing the shape of something new and moldable come together right in front of you.

But he had not been made a sculptor or a craftsman. He’d been born a wild thing, a tornado, a volcano, every disaster meant to fell cities, and though he had not known the words yet he’d sensed in his core, seen in glimpses in the song, that he was a creature of war. Like many other wild things—Ossë, the simpering coward tied up in Uinen’s tresses, excluded— he’d found his way to Melkor in the end. Oh, he’d idled for a time with Vána, heard Námo’s dolorous call, but it was Melkor who he came back to and Melkor who he picked in the end.

Melkor taught him so many more ways to be. The smoke, the blood, the screaming not in sorrow but in anger. He taught the others who came to him as well. In the Captain’s little squad alone there was one who learned the slaver’s whip and the threat of fire, one who learned the ooze of pus and malodorous air, one who came to appreciate the ravenings of rabid beasts. From the dragons in the treasure-caves to the cat in the kitchen to the vampires in the highest towers, they were all Melkor’s creations.

Gorfaunt, born and raised here in the shadow of his ancient power, was even more Melkor’s than most. This was how the Captain rationalized his continuing fondness for her as she weakened, his interest in her spawn. Works of the same maker might gravitate together. They could see parts of themselves in each other, the way he could once see himself in other Ëalar born of the same bit of song.

When Gorfaunt came in four months after their revelatory meeting with a sagging belly and a bundle nestled against her chest he was excited to finally see what had been made.

It took a bit of coaxing to get her to show him the baby but no orc would outright refuse an order from anyone stronger than them, they knew better than that. The newborn was dutifully unwrapped and presented, though Gorfaunt’s expression suggested that she considered this all a silly waste of time.

It was a rumpled wet creature; mostly skin and bones, with a cranium as big as its rounded torso. Small too, barely bigger than Gorfaunt’s hand, and Gorfaunt was smaller than all elves and many humans; based on overheard complaints failure to grow was an ongoing issue with their kind. When it was unswaddled sticklike limbs flailed out and began batting at the air ineffectually. Despite this wriggling its face remained in a sleepy scowl. It wasn’t until Gothmog moved one cherry-hot finger closer to it that it opened its hazy grey eyes and tried to focus on him. Even then the dismayed frown stayed put.

An unscarred orc was always an interesting sight; for it revealed the scale of their reworking. How much orcishness was self-replicating, as the Lieutenant liked to claim, and how much had to be beaten in? This one had a droopy brow bone and already peeling corpse-grey skin but it did not look much like an orc besides that. It even had hair, which most orcs lacked (aside from a few lank patches). The fine red down covered its whole body, thickest on the head and face and arms.

“It’s supposed to fall out,” Gorfaunt said, “Everyone says it’ll fall out soon. Even the prisoners lose their hair after a while, especially in the deep mines.”

That was probably because of the miasma of decay that emanated from the ores of Angband. Not macro-decay, of skin and bone (that came later) but the infitesimal decay. Every piece of metal— every piece of existence, when you got down to it— was made of little stars. There was a gaseous center of energy and little orbiting specks around that, spinning in probabilistic loops. Like stars some were bigger and some were smaller and some were ready to collapse. Ilmarë loved to speak of supernovas. The yellow and blue metals below the mountain were full of little stars collapsing, reforming, giving off energy in great sums as they did so.

The Captain had noted the negative effects of this energetic output on incarnates some time ago. Elves sickened and humans just died— Lord Melkor had moved the man he hoped would give him the location of Gondolin far from those mines for a reason. A few of the spirits with natures inclined towards metal, salt, and industry had already incorporated the burning energy into their signatures. The Lieutenant doubtless had some wicked little experiment running with it. It was a part of life here, that background hum of a trillion crumbling particles, and the Captain never thought of the effect on orcs, though they were exposed from birth.

Now that he focused he could see the little crumbs of decay glancing off the baby.

Hmm.

It would probably be fine.

It was already rubbing its eyes and going back to sleep, one hand curled next to a crumpled, not-yet-cropped ear.

“Are you recovered?” he asked Gorfaunt.

“I’m fit enough to fight,” she said shortly, defensively, as if afraid he’d snatch her command from her. “I’ll be better soon when this thing is gone.”

The Captain’s huge palm hovered over her infant. He knew better than to touch; his ability to change forms was not what it once was, he could not stop being a bipedal avalanche, to strong, too close, too dangerous. Even just containing the noxious gases— the pustulent yellow and choking green— simmering inside this war shaped body was difficult. If he kept a few feet distance the chaotic heat of his skin faded into the air and the baby wriggled contentedly in the ambient glow, like a little lizard.

“And how long will that be?”

Gorfaunt’s hand twitched. Another few months, till it can manage worm meal and listen to the grands.”

It seemed impossible that anything could be big enough to leave alone in such a short time; but incarnation was not the Captain’s specialty. “And that’s the accepted practice?”

“A little young, but safe now that the master put a stop to the baby eating problem.”

“I wouldn’t want it to be a concern,” the Captain said very seriously, even though his fingers curled slightly around the baby’s limp body. “We can make modifications if the child must stay longer.”

Gorfaunt glanced down at her sprawled offspring. “I don’t— I don’t want this to last any longer. I’d rather have my life go back to normal.”

That, at least, he could understand. It has been a rather troubling experience overall. Revelations are not always useful and though he’s gained some knowledge it’s not very practical stuff.

“One more question, commander, then I’ll drop the matter. What is it named??”

That nascent mind bubble had sharpened with time and experience but was still comprised mostly of sensation. He could not even grasp at a basic sense of self. The child’s mother should know what if calls itself, if anyone did.

(He wanted to remember the name, for forty years from now, when he needed more good orcs. All those rants about the fundamentals of inheritance left him with some ideas about how incarnates develop traits. Another Gorfaunt would be a helpful tool to have on hand.)

The question left Gorfaunt unimpressed. “It doesn’t name itself anything yet, it hasn’t got the common sense. And no one’s given it a name because it hasn’t done anything interesting.”

“It has an interesting look” the Captain pointed out, “Tell them to call it Red Cap,” he slipped into the elf tongue, which had better color words than the one the Lieutenant devised, and in the process accidentally named the child after a former king of the Noldor. “Or something like that.”

Gorfaunt apparently had a better memory for politics than he gave her credit for, or perhaps just a distaste for the elf cant, because she quickly translated it back into Angband’s crackly tongue . “Rotbint.”

“Yes.” A Balrog, even the chief of Balrogs, could not give much to something so soft and incarnadine. A name, incorporeal, existing in the plane the Captain knew best, was the only thing he could offer. “Now, to business?”

Gorfaunt wrapped the little creature away— it woke halfway through the rolling to stare at them once more— then tucked it against her chest.

The Captain was sad to see it go, though he couldn’t say why.

He remembered that he had come to this physical world for a reason once. He had wanted to see all there was to see, to feel and taste everything, chew chunks of Arda up and spit it out new. Disasters hungered as much as anyone. Yet all he’d had lately was war fare; blood-soaked mud and rage-tinged fear.

Deprived of fresh experiences, he clung to the potential, the novelty, of new life.

Perhaps Gondolin would see him out of his funk, he thought. It couldn’t hide forever.

“We’ll find it, Captain,” Gorfaunt assured him stubbornly. “And we’ll tear it down brick by brick, raze their gardens, fill their streets with blood.”

Even with a baby trying to gum her collarbone her firm tone allowed no questions.

Orcs were, as a rule, bothersome, unruly, walking corpses. Fractious, ugly, difficult, bothersome, recklessly stupid. The Maiar serving under the Captain were sometimes stereotyped as simpleminded brutes but at least they were able to perceive the world around them, even if few bothered to use that perception. In comparison orcs were stumbling around in the dark. They were inefficient as well, you needed three of them to take down any decent enemy. But when they were well made they were well made. Those were the ones that made it all worth it.

It had to be worth it. This was freedom, after all.

[rin-00]

Moments and reason that show why I love Fatou Jallow

In season 5 episode 1 the first thing I heard was her voice on the voicemail she left for Nora. I thought her voice was soft and adorable and I thought the words she was saying were beautiful and well written. It showed she had depth and was smart when it came to writing and language.

In season 5 episode 1 when everyone was talking about the abi thing and Ismail and Constantine were bragging about the party they we’re planning and all the alcohol they would have, everyone (even Ava) looked impressed meanwhile Fatou looked less than impressed

“can these two stfu 🙄”

When she asked Nora if “everything was good”, it was a subtle way of showing how perceptive she is of others emotions and well being

When she called over Nora to sit next to her and she complimented her drawings

When Nora had to rush out to listen to her mom’s voice memo, Fatou looked very concerned - again showing how much she cares for her friends and her perceptiveness

(worried Fatou- also she looks cute here)

When Fatou went to Zoe’s bday party and when she did that little shy glance at Kieu My - adorable 🥰

The little “Fuck” she did when she realized she messed up the addresses for the little party on season 5 episode 2

The little joke she did that made Kieu My laugh

When she said she wants to spend her 50th birthday on the moon because by the time she’ll be 50 there would be flying cars. I love how imaginative she is, she’s creative and she has an easy going nature to her (at least in s5) and her mind is open to everyone. For example in the opening monologue in s5 she said “we hug anyone and love everyone” . That sentence in itself shows her good nature

I love that she offered cake as an alternative to alcohol when Nora said she doesn’t drink. Kudos to Ava and Mailin for not making a big deal of it as well but also kudos to Fatou for offering an alternative to make sure her friend still felt part of the moment

When Nora was lying down on Fatou’s lap and Fatou asked where Nora was and she said she was at the doctors and the audience could tell that Fatou didn’t buy it but chose to let it go. Another moment of her being intuitive towards others well being.

When she told Mailin that boys should not be victims of objectification just because they do it to girls (SOMEONE TELL THIS TO KIEU MY SO SHE KNOWS THAT HER GIRL WOULD NEVER DO THAT TO HER SHE IS TOO GOOD AND TOO KIND TO PARTICIPATE IN THAT)

When Fatou was imagining Kieu My’s birthmark - soft little lesbian -

HER SOFT VOICE. Her speaking voice is so soft she’s so softspoken it makes my heart hurt ✨🥺

Her love for animals. Even the creepy ones.

^^ also doesn’t Kieu my have a snake necklace or something

When she came over to Nora’s to ask if she’s okay.

When she brought the cashqueens to noras to help her feel better

When Ava suddenly said there was going to be a live concert and fatou made this face

When Fatou was teaching Kieu My how to skate and she did a little jog along side her and helped her when she almost fell

When she told Kieu My to “have fun” when she was goin home lmao and she berated herself for it

When she wears her glasses - adorable

When she was talking to Ismail and it mirrored the “I’m so done with this person” look she did in episode 1 of season 5.

When she gently fed the turtle the lettuce from her sandwich - softy with animals

When she had that little dream moments of Kieu My feeding her fries to Toni Braxton playing in the background - relatable

When she tried to alleviate Kieu My’s worries about her nails by saying it’s just a stereotype.

When she was bravely making full on non stop eye contact with Kieu My when describing what she did we her ex gf

When she had her tinder bio say “wanna cuddle” - softy lesbian

When she bravely texted Kieu My multiple times and even confronted her in the hallways

All her hairstyles ✨💕✨💕✨💕✨💕🎉🎉✨💕✨💕🎉✨💕💕✨💕

When she told Kieu My she was good even though she was still hurting from Kieu My’s actions

When she bravely (brave lesbian I can’t relate) ran after Kieu My and kissed her and even softly put her hair to the side

When she asked about Kieu My and why she always overthinks things.

When she spoke about coming from an immigrant family (relatable)

When she gave Kieu My the back hug but she had to stand on a step lol

The birthmark question lmao

I love how she feels everything. In comparison to Nora, whos main problem in s5 was disassociating from feelings, Fatou is very open to her emotions to the point that it overwhelms her. If she’s insecure she’s insecure to the point of tears. It makes her very emotionally intelligent but also exhausts her to a great extent.

Her ability to care for others can be easily seen by both the audience and her peers. Ismail feels it which is probably why they want to open up to her so much.

Her desire to NOT hurt her friends or family by disappointment. She doesn’t want to cause conflict snd this makes her a great mediator to fights (like in season 5) but when it’s her conflict it shows how little she deems herself worthy of a solution. She doesn’t want to bother anyone with her problems and doesn’t want to be seen as a disappointment but she has yet to grasp that when she’s in pain then so are the people she cares about. Just like Kieu My.

Her reluctance to be friendly towards Ismail and Constantine, I think, shows more than just annoyance but also her loyalty to Ava. I think the thing that annoys her the most about Ismail is that she knows they bullied her friend and I think that if they didn’t bully her then she would have warmed up to them from the beginning (after s5 of course cuz)

But yeh that’s all. If I missed anything comment it lol

[koocycle]

if not forever | jk drabble

pairing. jungkook x reader

summary. “i wanted to be with you for a long time, if not forever. you ruined that. you ruined many things.”

wc. 1.6k

warnings. none

a/n. kinda messy post break up drabble. wrote this in one go and did not (!!) proof read nor edit ahaaa my sincere apologies if this is the worst thing u ever read

masterlist

“what’s so funny?”

your voice comes out a little harsher than you had officially intended to and for some odd reason, you had hoped to throw him off guard with it. however, the same beautiful yet forced grin keeps its place on his face. the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes yet he makes no effort into erasing it, maintaining his gaze on the plates of seafood in front of him.

“i’m sorry, i don’t mean to laugh at you,” he speaks with his mouth still stuffed with the fried shrimps you ordered earlier, showing you he kept his old habits you always told him to get rid off. “but it’s kinda funny to me.”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you lie as you reposition yourself in your seat. he doesn’t need to see it, but he knows your fingers are nervously fumbling with the edge of the table cloth.

“you do, though.” the man in front of you places his chopsticks neatly back in place whilst speaking, still not making any eye contact.

“you don’t even like the dude. you’re making him look ridiculous sitting here.” he dares to state out loud, chewing on the last remains in his mouth.

the urge to roll your eyes at the man is getting stronger, and at first you decide to not give him the satisfaction of an answer. you have better things to do, you keep repeating to yourself. you don’t have time for such childish acts, you decide. that until he speaks up again.

“what even was that story about? dude keeps talking about his art galleries and shit. as if you could care less.” he snickers cockily into the warm air.

“drop it, jeongguk.”

“oh and don’t get me started on when he began to show off his paintings.” he huffs, “he was literally fishing for compliments. couldn’t be more obvious.” he continues on, taking another sip of his sparkly water. “he thinks he’s the shit because he owns a pair of designer shoes and a gucci bag.”

“excuse me, taehyung is a very fine man. thank you very much.” you snap at him, not taking his harsh words any longer.

“sure.” he holds his hands up in the air. “i’m just saying, he isn’t what you’re looking for.”

“and what am i looking for, jeongguk?” you ask almost immediately, fed up with his attitude and big ego. “since you know me so well, tell me everything about it.”

“i’m not trying to invade your life, since you decided i shouldn’t be a part of it any longer-”

you hold your finger up in the air, shushing him mid-sentence, “give me a minute to take notes, yeah?”

a beat of silence passes through the both of you, each of you way too stubborn to break the intense eye contact you are sharing. bubbles of laughter erupt on the tables beside yours, happy couples and families making the most out of their night, the tense atmosphere on the table next door going completely unnoticed by them.

and for the first time this night, you and jeongguk are actually, sincerely looking at each other. the previous hour before taehyung excused himself to the bathroom was filled with awkward small talk and tacky glances that didn’t last any longer than a second.

you didn’t plan to find your ex in this restaurant this exact night. fuck, you didn’t plan to see him ever again, you assured yourself it was better for your own mental health. and when your tinder date decided to meet up at his favorite restaurant? what would you do then? you’d go nonetheless. because what were the odds of seeing the one person you didn’t bet on seeing tonight? the chances were small, that for sure, but with your luck, you should’ve seen it coming.

and what would you do when your ex introduced himself to your new date as an old friend of yours? of course you’d sit down at his table. of course you would, because your prince charming for the night was a beautiful social butterfly. as talented as he is, as breathtaking as he looks, it wasn’t enough and he just had to be social enough to accompany this so called old friend on his table.

“i just don’t get how you can date him.” he sighs into the air, leaning back in his chair with a huff.

“he seems like a cool person to be around, whether or not he reaches your standards,” you say, slumping down your own seat now. “and we’re not dating.”

“you’re going on dates with him.” he corrects himself. “and you bring him to places i’ve been bringing you to the past three years?”

you hate the sharp edge to his tone. you hate the desperate search for answers which is evident in his voice. you hate it. you caused it, you’re aware. and the pang in your chest grows each second of taehyung’s absence.

“how could you throw us aside like that?”

his voice is booming loud and clear through your ears, and even though you had been expecting this question sooner or later tonight, you still hadn’t figured out a solid answer for him. you wish you had.

“did those three years mean nothing to you?” he has so many questions bottled up inside of him, so many questions he has collected over the past months, unable to form any solid answers himself - so now that you’re in front of him, he has to take his chances, no?

the sight of you not making any eye contact is irritating him, though. he doesn’t see, but he knows you’re staring at your fumbling fingers under the table, folding the edges of the napkin placed on your lap. your pretty lips are shut tight, the beautiful toothy smile he was once able to appear on your face, has disappeared. your silence is killing him.

“did they mean nothing to you?” he asks again, his voice slightly cracking halfway.

you feel his stare burning on your face, you hear the way he holds his breath for a few seconds. and it pains you. “they did. they still do.”

“then why did we stop? we were perfect together.” his voice lowers a few octaves, “we were perfect.”

“jeongguk..”

“i planned to stay with you for a long time, if not forever.” he says, unable to keep his stares away from you. he hates how you’re able to stay so silent, proving all the assumptions that had been swerving in his mind to be right. he wants to yell at you for being so calm, he wants you to know how he’s been feeling the past couple of months. like total shit.

he loves you so much. he loves you so much that it hurts. he loves you so much that he wants you to go through the pain he’s been going through. he may know it’s selfish, but the way you’re sitting there, slumped onto your seat, giving him answers filled with silence - he doesn’t care no more. doesn’t want to care.

“don’t say stuff like that, guk. you don’t mean that.” you rub your temples in a tired manner. “we both know that wasn’t going to work with the way things were going between us.”

they way his name leaves your lips in such an unfamiliar manner makes his head spin.

“you thought it wasn’t going to work.” he snaps, and loudly so, making a few heads turn in your direction. “you thought so many things and you made a rashed decision that isn’t better for neither of us.”

he continues on, “i wanted to stay with you for forever. you ruined that - you ruined many things. you ruined the beautiful things we had.” he rambles, and you can feel your heart beat against your ribcage now. “i bet you didn’t even think twice about the break up. bet you just went up and left. probably for this guy too. you didn’t care - you don’t care about those years. you’re selfish.”

“you gotta stop it, guk.”

“i have to remind myself to not be sad when i go home to an empty house when i leave work.” he says, an accusing finger pointing your way. “i loved you and you didn’t give two shits. i have to wake up and go to bed with a shit feeling whilst your out here going on dates with guys you barely know?”

you catch your breath in your throat. you want him to know how much he meant to you - how much he still means to you. how you’re going through it as well. you’re not sure if he’d still believe you, considering the circumstances you were in.

“i’m going through it as well, jeongguk. i swear i am. just as much as you.” you reach for his hands resting on the table, needy for some contact.

he pulls himself away from you, though. so your hands fall on the wooden table in defeat. “this is as hard for me as it is for you. but i had to do this. what we had wasn’t healthy.”

he nods as if he understands you. he doesn’t. his lips purse and his glossed eyes are the last thing you see before he tears his gaze away and grabs his stuff on the chair next to him.

“you don’t understand.” he mumbles, right before he goes up and leaves.

you call out for him a couple more times, but he’s not listening, so you watch him from afar, just until you hear the heavy door of the restaurant go to a shut.

and you cry.

[basilisa-scorpii]

please don't interact if you're not mutual

getting my selfdestructive brain fixating on my loneliness complex is probably... the worst of all cases because it attacks from all sides possible (body hate, self hate, loneliness, fear of being judged, feeling of being unloved, feeling of being a monster) and is fueled by unimaginable touch & emotion starvation

ain't speaking only about romantic touch & emotion starvation. i've been raised in cold and emotionally abusive family. i can't remember a single moment of anyone being softer to me, even those family members who really helped me through the worst times still treated me rather roughly.

last time someone touched me in other way than an accidental brush was over 10 years ago.

it's not even jealousy as I was thinking for a long, long time. this is a painful (literally painful), gut-wrenching, brain-frying realization of loneliness, emotional & sexual craving and frustration, and realization of my inability to do anything about it because (insert being wrecked mind and body alike)

and I get that feeling during the fixation any time someone mentions ANYTHING regarding intimacy, either romantic or platonic. fucking bullet right in the stomach would hurt less, I'm afraid, when my brain does that thing.

I'd gladly take suicidal thoughts over that, SERIOUSLY

ah did I mention it mixed today with a horrible meltdown, like, "someone-swallowed-water-next-to-me-and-i-felt-pain" level of meltdown?

i'm honestly worried about myself because last time I got such feelings for longer - and this one is spiraling since 2-3 weeks - I got myself in a plenty of dangerous situations, one almost ending with getting raped because I was that desperate for attention and touch it didn't matter for me who and how, even if I knew people around me were dangerous as fuck

at least I don't drink as I used to back then. guess 25yo me is wiser than 15yo

like, I know, I could just go to the first queer bar or make a tinder account and just let someone fuck me or even just hug me (if anyone would be willing in the first place, which I highly doubt), it'd solve problem for time long enough to settle my thoughts and emotional imbalance.

but I also know it'd only give power to my other problems. and I know it'd not be any different than just cutting myself again.

[dameronology]

london calling {poe x reader} - 1

a modern coffee shop au 

in this chapter: you could have sworn that london was trying to eat you alive. you didn’t ask the universe for a reason to stay in the city but it gave you one anyway - in the form of poe dameron, your new manager. 

warnings: swearing 

this was based off of a dream i had & then @cherieboba​ mentioned an AU...and now we have this. enjoy!

- val xx 

‘Will you watch where you’re fucking going?!’ 

You hated Tuesdays. Tuesdays were truly and completely awful in every sense of the word. They were slightly better than Mondays but still...undeniably dreadful. This one had been no exception. You’d woken up late (and hungover, but that wasn’t relevant) and you were convinced that the Department of Transport had personally paid every single commuter to make your life a living hell that morning. Whatever patience you’d had upon waking up - and trust me, it wasn’t much - had worn completely thin by the time you’d been released from the hellish grips of the London Underground. 

Your main concern was getting to work on time. The start of your shift coincided perfectly with the morning rush - also known as two straight hours of grumpy, uncaffeinated commuters. It was your job as a barista to provide them with coffee and to do-so in a timely manner. Anything less than thirty seconds would often result in a middle-aged, greying businessman coming for your ass. This morning, you were prepared to bite back. 

‘How nice of you to show up.’ 

‘I know, I know!’ You pushed past your co-worker, tugging your apron around your waist as you did. ‘I overslept,’

Finn rolled his eyes at you, shaking his head. ‘Then you owe me five pounds.’

‘Why?’ You grumbled, pulling an order receipt from his hand.

‘The bet, remember?’ He replied. ‘You have officially been late twenty times so far this year.’

You let out a groan, mind going back to New Year’s Eve. The pair of you had made a deal that whoever was the first to be late twenty times owed the other a fiver - and it looked like you would be paying for his lunch today. It was unusual for you to be late so many times in a row but in the absence of a manager or acting boss, you’d let yourself slip a tiny bit. You knew that had to end today, however, because your new manager was due to start. 

‘I’ll give it to you when I get paid.’ You said. ‘My rent is already late and that five pounds could be detrimental-’

‘- I’m just taking the piss.’ Finn chuckled. ‘Get these orders done and we’re even.’ 

He slid you the pile of receipts and you immediately slipped into autopilot. You’d been a barista for the better part of five years by that point; your hands could be at work whilst your mind was elsewhere. That was certainly the case today - your mind was raking through your financial woes and the fact that your rent was due four days ago - as you worked. After fifteen minutes of here’s a small skinny latte for Brian! and a large Americano to go for Roger!, you’d completely ridded the shop of the queue. 

‘Busy morning, huh?’

You peered up from the coffee machine, eyes falling on the man in front of you. He was holding a half-empty cup of coffee, a smile on his face and warm brown eyes examining the mess of coffee and milk around your work station. He had a tangle of messy curls and...well, hot fucking damn. What else were you supposed to say?

‘Uh, yeah.’ You smiled. ‘Highlight of my day, I suppose.’

He grinned at you. ‘Do you enjoy working here?’

‘Yeah.’ You nodded. ‘I mean - it gets stressful but a job’s a job, right?’

‘Right.’ He replied, eyes falling to where your name tag rested on your apron. ‘I’ll see you around.’

Trying to hide the blush on your face, you picked up the empty milk cartons and carried them through to the kitchen at the back of the shop. Finn was already in there on his phone, swiping through Tinder. Your best friend’s love life was often a subject that came up on shift - as far you were concerned, he deserved the world. It was finding the world that was the hard part. 

‘Hot customer alert.’ You greeted him. ‘And I mean hot.’

‘What kind of cute are we talking?’ Finn looked up from his phone. ‘Like...Leo Dicaprio in Titanic cute kind of hot or Leo Dicaprio in the Revenant, large and hairy kind of hot?’

‘Kind of in the middle.’ You replied, dumping the cartons in the bin. ‘He said he would see me around, so I guess he’s a new regular?’

‘Actually,’ somebody else’s voice came from the doorway. ‘I meant see you around as in I’m the new manager.’

You had never wanted the ground to swallow you more. Seriously - if the jaws of death could have opened right there and then, you’d be willing to jump into them with the tip of your hat and a so long, folks! This was definitely the worst Tuesday of your life. That was truly saying something, because you’d spent all of last Tuesday scraping dried milk off of a table. And, the Tuesday before that, you’d got stuck in the doors of the tube on the Jubilee Line and then -

-Not relevant. The presence of other shitty days didn’t erase the fact that you had just called your manager hot and compared him to Leonardo Dicaprio. Right to his face. 

‘Hey, Finn?’ You glanced up at your co-worker. ‘I think it’s time I quit-’

‘- no, I take it as a compliment!’ He chortled. ‘I’m Poe, Poe Dameron. You’re the assistant manager, right?’

‘Yeah.’ You nodded, trying to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. ‘Unless you fire me.’

‘No, I like a colleague who bigs me up.’ Poe grinned at you. It only made the blush worse. ‘It’s a nice store. I’m excited to work here.’

‘And I assume you know how to make coffee?’ You quirked an eyebrow at him. 

‘I could do it in my sleep.’

You handed him an apron. ‘Brilliant.’

It seemed as though whoever was above had answered your prayers, because another queue quickly began to form and you had to get back to work. Poe and Finn chatted amongst themselves, bonding over the fact that they were both Americans working in London. You, meanwhile, focused on pumping out oddly specific coffee orders. 

‘A hot-but-not-too-hot black Americano for Holdo!’ You called. 

Mrs Holdo - or, Holdo as she insisted on being called - was one of your regulars. She was a high powered business woman who stopped by the coffee every morning. It was usually one of the highlights of working the morning shift. You were convinced she was on steroids of some point because she was the literal definition of a power bitch. The fact she dyed her hair lavender made her even more iconic. 

‘Morning!’ You beamed at her, sliding her drink across the counter. ‘How are things at the law firm?’

‘Stressful, as always.’ She grabbed the cup. ‘New manager, I see?’

‘Oh, yeah.’ You glanced over your shoulder at him. ‘That’s Poe.’ 

‘You talkin’ shit?’ He grinned at you, giving you a wink. 

Once the queue had died down again, you made yourself a coffee. A few people were fluttering about the shop; it was the usual, really. There was a businessman on his laptop at one table and an artist at the next. One of the perks of working in such a central area was all the people you got to meet. It certainly made the job more interesting - and you had a feeling that your new manager was only going to add to that. 

‘So - tell me about yourself.’ Poe leant against the counter next to you, nudging you with his elbow. ‘Other than the fact you think I’m hot and that you probably love Leonardo Dicaprio.’

You let out a groan. ‘You’re killing me, man.’

‘If that’s the case, I hope you get someone to cover your shifts before you die.’

‘Isn’t that your job?��� You shot back. ‘Being the manager and all.’

‘You are my assistant manager-’

‘- no I am the assistant manager.’ You cut him off. ‘And I’ve been here five years so I know all that you could possibly need about running this place.’

‘Mm?’ Poe raised his eyebrows. ‘Care to share?’

‘Finn can’t be on shift with Hux - he’s an irritating part timer, really up himself - because they will kill each other.’ You paused to take a sip of your coffee. ‘And Kaydel is super sweet but she’s always late, so it’s best to put her on afternoon shifts.’

‘Like you were late this morning?’

You groaned again. ‘It was just one of those mornings - it was one thing after the other. I swear it won’t happen again. 

Poe gave you a soft smile, the sarcasm fading from his face. ‘I’m just kidding. Don’t be so hard on yourself.’

With that, he took the coffee from your hand and took a sip. ‘Jesus Christ, what is in this?’

‘Four shots of vanilla syrup.’ You snatched your drink back from him. ‘Let me guess - you’re the kind of guy that exclusively drinks espressos and judges people for adding sugar?’

He simply raised his eyebrows, holding his hands up in defense. 

--

Nine hours later, your shift was finally over; you were closing with Poe, who was currently sweeping the floor and singing I Want To Break Free. Your feet were aching but thanks to the free coffee, you were slightly buzzed. You’d decided that you liked your new manager - there were some pitfalls, however. Watching him flirt with every woman that came in was bordering on painful by the time lunchtime came around. 

‘Rey’s here!’ Finn popped up from behind the coffee machine. He was supposed to be cleaning it, but it looked as though he was counting coffee beans instead. ‘Do I look okay?’

‘No different than usual, Finny.’ You replied. 

Rey was your room-mate and best friend (Finn would argue differently). She worked in a primary school a few streets away from the coffee shop. She usually came in after you’d shut to get a free drink - she also drove to work, which meant you didn’t have to take public transport home. After a nine hour shift and with an impending caffeine crash, being shoved into a small tube carriage was your idea of hell. With that said, Rey’s driving wasn’t much better. 

Fiddling with your keys, you unlocked the door to let Rey in. She looked tired - presumably from chasing after little children all day. You could see a bottle of wine sticking out from the top of her bag. That was this evening’s plans solved. 

‘Hey!’ She greeted you brightly. ‘Hey, Finn!’

‘Rey, hey!’ Your co-worker waved at her. ‘I mean hey, rey!’

‘I’m just gonna clock out.’ You said, glancing over your shoulder at Poe. ‘If that’s cool with you?’

‘God knows, god knows I want to break - oh yeah, that’s fine!’ He suddenly pulled his headphones out. 

‘This is Rey, by the way. She’s an honorary team member here.’ You explained. ‘And this is Poe, our new manager.’

‘She thinks I’m cute.’ Poe grinned. 

You turned to face Rey. ‘I’ll explain later.’

‘Right. Of course.’ She gave you a wink. ‘I went home at lunch to feed Chewy. He’s eaten another pair of your shoes.’

Chewie was your six-month-old border terrier puppy. He reeked havoc pretty much everywhere he went - usually leaving a trail of fur behind him - but you loved him dearly. He’d earned his name after eating through eleven pairs of shoes in his first week at your apartment. 

‘Of course he has.’ You grumbled. ‘See you tomorrow!’

‘See you!’ Finn waved at you, before giving Rey a sweet smile. 

‘See you in the morning!’ Poe called. ‘And be on time!’

tags: @thespareoom @softly-sad @interwebseriesfan24 @yougottakeeponkeepinon​ @princessxkenobi​ @blue-space-porgs​ @cherieboba​ @highlycommendable​

[isis-astarte-diana]

The Grave’s A Fine And Private Place (Part 1)

Part 1 ‖ Part 2

Summary: "You realise too late how careless you’ve become. It’s easy to forget, striding out of the miraculous console room and into a new day’s folly, just how thin the skin is that separates you from the grave." Missy’s atonement test doesn’t quite go to plan.

Warnings:  SFW. Swearing, mild peril, guns and violence. As always, MIHOW.

Word Count: 1105

Notes: Oh, my god! A multi-part fic?! Yes, because I wanted to prove that I actually am writing it, instead of making you wait until it’s finished. I’m terrible at writing action scenes, so this first half is probably not very exciting, but I promise there’s more to come! You can consider this a reader-insert World Enough And Time fix-it because Bill does not die!

“Which of you is human?”

You can feel Bill’s heartbeat through her hand. The skin of her palm is clammy against your own, her fingers locked around yours so tightly that you can’t tell whether she's shaking or just reflecting your own tremors back at you. You risk a glance at her.

Her wide eyes are mapping the space between the Doctor’s chest and the barrel of the stranger’s gun. You can see the tightening of her jaw when she makes her choice. Her gaze flicks over your face, just for a moment, and you nod jerkily, hoping that you look less than half as frightened as you feel.

“Us!” She calls out quickly, as if she’s racing against her own changing mind. “Us, we- we are. We’re human. It’s just us, we’re the only ones.”

You inch closer, your side flush with hers, seeking comfort in the warmth of your best friend. Between your bodies, your fingers lace together as the alien whips around and aims his weapon squarely at you.

“Please, stop this.” There’s desperation in the Doctor’s voice like you’ve never heard before, but it’s muffled by the deafening rhythm of your pulse in your ears. It’s not as if this is the first time you’ve found yourself staring into the business end of a futuristic firearm - that much has become a fixture of your weekend trips in the TARDIS - but something feels different today. In the back of your mind, Bill’s words echo in a mocking, punishing loop, an earworm that makes your stomach coil with dread.

“Just promise you won’t get us killed, yeah?”

The memory of how you'd scoffed and wrapped your arm around her shoulders makes you wince. You realise too late how careless you’ve become. It’s easy to forget, striding out of the miraculous console room and into a new day’s folly, just how thin the skin is that separates you from the grave.

Now you can feel it acutely. There’s a phantom pain in your chest, squeezing at your heart just where the laser-barrel points. Selfishly, you hope that he shoots you first.

“I’m sorry.” Judging by the weak tremor in his shooting arm, you believe him. His face is a mask of wild panic. “I’m so sorry, but you’re the reason that they’re coming.”

“Put it down.” The Doctor moves towards him, hands raised in surrender. The practised sharpness in his voice falls flat. There’s no comfort to be found in the desperation and defeat that comes off him in waves.

An electrical whine as the weapon primes. “They won’t come if these two are dead.” A whimper; you, or Bill, or both. As she squares her shoulders beside you, you can almost hear it, the universe’s most hollow victory.

I fucking told you so.

You’re dimly aware that the Doctor is speaking, reaching out, doing all that he knows how to even though it’s clearly not enough. Staring into the barrel, you think of home. You wonder what century you’re in. You wonder how much it will hurt. This was always how it would end, you think. You just hadn't expected it to be now.

The stranger takes a deep breath. You want to close your eyes, not to have to watch the shot coming, but none of your muscles are listening to you now. Your fingers are crushing Bill's.

Another breath. He winces. Behind you, the three occupied lifts are whirring, inching closer to the bridge where you stand. Your mouth is dry.

His face twists in pain and his free hand flies up to his throat, clutching, clawing.

Something's wrong.

"Missy!"

The Doctor's voice rings out like the anticipated gunshot, making you jump. The stranger isn't looking at you anymore - he's jerking his arm around, aiming the gun in Missy's face as he wretches and gasps for breath.

"You're on thin ice as it is, my dear, but if you shoot me that'll really piss me off."

She's still draped across the navigator's chair, umbrella in hand and pointed at the alien's chest.  Her face is a careful mask of indifference but she's white-knuckled on the crook of the handle. Her other hand braces on the leather cushion so that she can shift her weight, leaning in towards the weapon, unflinching.

"What are you doing? Let him go!"

She ignores the Doctor. "You've got a bionic lung, haven't you?" She raises an eyebrow. He can't respond, still choking, legs quivering and eyes bulging as his strength begins to fail. "I'm draining the battery."

"You'll kill him, Missy."

"Yes, that was rather the point.” He's starting to wobble where he stands, the gun shaking furiously, his head swooping around in blind panic. You can see the blood vessels burst in his eyes, flooding the whites with an unearthly shade of purple.

"Stop this, both of you! There's no need for this!" The Doctor pleads, his hands clasped as if in prayer. He comes as close as he dares, not wanting to light the tinder between them. "I can shield their life signs, we can help you!"

You yelp when there's a sharp tug on your hand. Bill pulls you towards the TARDIS, a deer finally free of the headlights, survival instinct kicking in and demanding that she hide in the only safe place she knows. You stumble with her, letting her drag you through the doors, but when she tries to close them you wedge your body in the space to keep them open.

"Come on," she hisses, but you shake your head. You're transfixed by the horror playing out in front of you. She cries out, enraged and adrenaline-filled, and leaves you be. From the corner of your eye you can see that Nardole has also made it back into the console room in the midst of the excitement.

The stranger's legs have buckled beneath him now. He grasps at the chair Missy still sits in, struggling to reach her with weak limbs, barely clinging onto the gun.

"That's enough, Missy!" The Doctor reaches for her umbrella but she jerks it away, losing her aim as she does so.

Everything else seems to happen in the same half-second.

The stranger climbs to his knees, both hands back on his weapon, and lifts it just above his shoulders. There's a deafening shriek of electricity and a burst of white-hot light and Missy's umbrella clatters to the floor, her body listing to one side, the momentum of the shot sending the chair rolling back a few feet. The Doctor shouts something indecipherable, lurching forwards, arms closing around the kneeling alien.

Behind them all, three sets of lift doors open.

[soren-bleu-kun]

BnHA Fics I’ve Read This Week 1

I read and review a lot of fics, every week. Here is the list from last Friday, to today. Let me know if I should I do this next week. 

Bloom in Winter - God linking all the art for this was a bitch in my google document, but worth it. In this uncompleted and seemingly abandoned twelve chapter fic where Midoriya is forced to work with villains with his analytical abilities. The story picks up when he finds out that he’s going to have to infiltrate UA as a General Studies student in order to find a way to help kill his idol, All Might. 

The Sun in My Eyes - This is a MomoJirou fic where the two girls meet at a young age and slowly fall in love as they grow up together. A fast read, and really cute. 

Trust Fall - This is a cute little fic that I think is supposed to end on a note of a possible relationship between Shinsou and Midoriya. Basically, the 2A addition to the UA Cultural Festival is a cat café, and while chasing one down both Midoriya and the cat he was chasing end up stuck in a tree, and it’s Shinsou to the rescue. 

What’s She Got That I Don’t? - This is a one-shot where we see Kirishima tell Bakugou that he has a crush on him. Getting rejected, he expected that. What he didn’t expect was for Bakugou to turn around and ask out Uraraka the very next day. This one-shot was good, but painful at times. 

I. Shaky Hands - This is the beginning of rexcorvidae’s incomplete Whumptober Series. I did not review every single piece of this series, but it does kick off with a very good start. Dadzawa to the rescue when he realizes that - with all the damage that Midoriya’s done to them - his problem child can’t use a pen well, or a pair of chopsticks. 

[Because this was a series of unconnected stories, I will be putting each one that I reviewed after this] 

III. Delirium - Midoriya gets sick out of the blue in the UA dorms, attacks some students in his delirious state, and collapses. The whump is just spectacular and I love any story that features a character that thinks their friends are their enemies 

IV. Human Shield - While taking Midoriya out for ice cream, he and Yagi get attacked. His brilliant solution to save his mentor? Jump in front of the bullet and almost die. There is some good Dad Might in this fic. 

VII. Isolation - Warning, this fic deals with Suicidal Ideation. Basically, what would happen if Midoriya took Bakugou’s middle school taunting as far as it could have gone. It ends with him standing on a roof, read at your own risk. 

XV. Scars - Midoriya has scars from the years of violent bullying that he went through and they don’t go unnoticed by his mentor. On the other side of the coin, Midoriya doesn’t want to tell Yagi who did it because he knows that if the people who tormented him don’t get to slide into being the heroes that they don’t deserve to be, they could be terrible villains. I honestly love this fic, it deserves everything. 

XVI. Stitches - This is an AU where Nighteye finds Midoriya at a pretty young age, sees the sort of analytical work that he can do, and has him intern at his office [and holds onto his notebooks for him, since there’s a lot of dangerous information in there, even if Midoriya doesn’t understand that when they first meet]. This story takes place a few years into that internship, when Midoriya collapses at work after the stitches he put in himself after another round of violent assault from his classes gets infected. 

XVIII. Muffled Screams - The last fic in this series that I reviewed, and it is a painful one, quite literally for Midoriya. In this story, he has been kidnapped, and he has one job. Don’t scream. Of course, this is difficult as he gets tortured, but he has to, because the villain promises that if he makes a noise, someone he cares about will die. We see this from the live feed that is being broadcast of the torture, with Yamada, Aizawa, and Yagi. 

Is it the Thunder in the Distance - This is a good little one-shot featuring Yagi spending the night at the Midoriya household and finding his successor sleeping on the floor right outside of his room. All in all, this is a very good fic and I like it a lot. Note, the actual name of the fic is much longer, but I am not writing the entire thing out again. 

If I’m Losing Again, Quiet Me Down - This takes place during the Stain Arc, when Midoriya is sitting in the hospital with Todoroki and Iida. While calling around to make sure that people know that he’s okay, he ends up having a panic attack. There is a soft ending to this one. 

I’ll Carry You Home - This was a debut fic for the author on Ao3, and it features Yagi carrying an exhausted Midoriya home after a long day of training. Most adorably, he accidentally calls his mentor “dad,” and when Midoriya wakes up enough to realize what he said there is a lot of apologizing. All in all a cute story. 

Growing Like You - This is a short one-shot featuring Midoriya finding out that one of the side affects of his new Quirk is that he’s growing, fast and a lot. Trying to find him something to wear, Yagi ends up stumbling across a box of his old UA clothes, and he gives it to Midoriya. 

Feelings of a Fanboy - This is one of those “What if Midoriya had a Quirk” stories, and they are some of my favorite kinds of fanfics out there. In this one, his power is called Emotional Rush. Basically, the more he feels, the stronger and faster he gets. This goes up to right around/before the Stain Arc. 

Father’s Day - This is a fic that features Hisashi Midoriya not really being around and Yagi stepping into the paternal role in Midoriya’s life, something that they both seem to need. 

Define “Villainy” - This is more or less a crack fic where Tsuyu realizes that literally no one in her class has tried to stop her from straight up attempting to murder Mineta, and they will probably continue to let her because no one in the class actually likes him. 

Anything, Anything - This is a fic that I already recommended to someone, and it is so good. This is a fic that features eventual TodoDoriya, where the two of them keep running into each other in the UA Dorms common room whenever they wake up from nightmares. 

Those Hardest to Love Need it the Most - This is a Dadzawa fic where Aizawa finds out that Midoriya was extremely mistreated at his middle school and opens up an investigation in hopes of taking the place down for Quirk discrimination. 

All the Signs - This is a crack fic for what I consider a bit of a crack ship, Huyumi. Basically, Fuyumi gets pregnant with Hawks’ kid and starts acting a little... bird like. The author, ohmytheon, is fantastic and I have read so much of their stuff. 

Come Home - This fic breaks my entire heart. This is a story where Touya and Fuyumi Todoroki are twins, two halves of the same whole. This goes through their childhood together, right up to the end where Fuyumi watches Touya being Dabi on TV and refuses to rat him out. She just wishes that he would come back. 

Who Will Protect Them - USJ 2.0, taking place when 1A has become 3A. After getting slammed into a wall and not being able to get back up, Aizawa wonders who’ll protect his class, before realizing that they’re more than keeping their own. He’s proud... and he’ll be even more proud if he survives this. 

Darken Your Door - This is a fic that deals with neglect, emotional abuse, and manipulation. While on a run to a corner store with Midoriya, Aizawa gets to meet his students estranged father. It doesn’t take long for him to realize that his student is extremely uncomfortable around his parent. From then on he wraps Hisashi Midoriya in more red tape than he’ll be able to get out from under. No one talks to his students unless his students want to hear from that person. 

Mouth Shut (Eyes Down) - A story in which Midoriya does not trust adults because they were the ones that let Bakugou and the rest of his bullies get away with assaulting him. He accidentally admits this to Aizawa after being stabbed when he thought he could “handle” getting stalked. 

A Touch of Hope - This is technically a soulmates fic, where you find your soulmate after physical contact. Shinsou was not expecting to find his at UA, nor was he expecting that it would give him an opportunity to join the Hero Course if he can prove himself. 

Voiceless - This is a shorter fic, only 1K, and it features Midoriya losing his voice when he gets sick and Shinsou taking care of him. It’s pretty cute. 

Creating Music - This is a three chapter fic taking place over two days, the day before and the day of Valentine’s Day. This is a MomoJirou fic that is really cute and sentimental. I love it so much. 

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year - In this fic, Midoriya is a dumbass and Shinsou finds his crush stuck to a pole by his tongue. He is not wearing a coat, and he has been stuck like this for a long time. 

Hook, Line, and Sinker - This is a great EraserMic fic in a Quirkless AU, where Aizawa thinks that his tinder date it a catfish because there is no way internationally famous singer Hizashi Yamada just matched with him. Note, there is smut in either the second or third chapter. 

Ask Me No Questions, I’ll Tell You No Lies - This is a silly little fic where Shinsou and Midoriya share a hotel room. Before you ask, there are two beds. There is a kiss, but that’s about it. A little OOC for Midoriya, but still pretty good. 

Shinsou the Local Cryptic - This is a fic where Shinsou becomes an internet meme of his own creating. It’s honestly pretty fun, and I had a good time with this one-shot. 

You Anchor Me Back Down - This is a one-shot with some fun art in it. When Todoroki is hit with a random Quirk that causes him to float whenever he’s happy, it’s difficult for him to keep his crush on Midoriya a secret. This takes place during their third year. 

Cosmic Confluence - Wonderful Shinsou-Centric fic where he’s a reaper and it’s his job to watch over Izuku Midoriya until he dies. I wish that there was more of this fic that I could read because the idea of this is so interesting.

[teruthecreator]

THS IS A ROBBERY 🔫YOUR ROLESWAP LORE!!! HAND IT OVER 🤲if u want 2 :)

just took my melatonin bc i have to wake up at 4:30 AM to drive 16 hours to my mother’s so i’m sorry if this becomes derailed but uh. here’s the roleswap lore! or, at least, everything i’ve decided (along with matthew and corinne bc the three of us tagteamed on it) 

gonna chuck it all under a readmore bc this is going to get long

so first off, just gonna run out in front and say i have no idea how this fits into graduation plot. i haven’t gotten that in plot consideration, given their character differences in comparison to their canonical selves. so, for the most part, it’s a lot of background establishment and character traits. but i do have a few plot bits that i’ve figured out bc i thought it was cool. why such a long preamble? i don’t know. help me

fitzroy maplecourt: 

first off, he’s not called sir!!! because he doesn’t go to knight school! 

my idea for his backstory is that the way he decides to grapple with his identity crisis/imposter syndrome (which he definitely Still has) is that instead of becoming a grander, larger than life version of himself. he just. goes the opposite.

not necessarily becoming a degenerate (bc he just smokes pot and that’s not bad he’s just vibing)??? but more just like. leaning into the laid-back nature of life that one might pick up from a lifetime in rural country. 

he goes to a liberal arts school a ways away and just decides to bum around and take life not seriously. he develops a pretty large group of acquaintances being a hippie stoner; he doesn’t really pursue a degree either. i think if he picked up any major it was probably like. an art major or an english but he basically fails most of his classes bc he doesn’t care! 

unlike his canonical counterpart, fitzroy doesn’t mind being called nicknames!! ones i think he has the most are fitz or roy, but basically you could call him anything and he’ll respond. that is because, instead of clinging to the concept of his identity bc it’s the only thing he feels he has, his identity is nebulous!! he doesn’t understand it and it scares him too much to be concrete, so he just lets people decide shit about him for him. 

his personal philosophy is more about floating through life and letting people assume shit about him than having a solid personality and backstory that people understand and recognize. it is a more dissociative way of having an identity crisis! how fun! he also barely talks about his past, and what he does talk about are cherrypicked points of his past that fit his narrative of being a casual down-to-earth hippie

 the moment that this all changes is when order decides to pop in and grant him powers!!!! wahoo!!!! here’s how that happens: 

he’s baked out of his fucking gourd in his dorm room, in the spring semester of his junior year. he’s alone (which is rare) and he’s maybe a little sad, but he decides to just ignore it. he looks at his table and laughs. “hehe, what if this table just. blew up?” he says to himself. it isn’t that funny, but he laughs. then he lays his hand on the table. 

the table blows up.

after that, he has magic!!! 

i’m going to go into detail a little bit later about how fitzroy’s magic manifests in the roleswap universe, but i wanna get through the backstory first. basically, he gets really freaked out after his magic comes to him because it is So New and Wow What and What The Fuck.

he realizes that this new addition to his character Completely changes how people who know him would perceive him (as a bum stoner chill guy), and he can no longer have control of his narrative with this magic business. so he drops out!

well, he actually just transfers. to a school far, far away where people will never know who he was and he can rebuild his narrative with this magic incorporated into it. he chooses wiggenstaff’s because he figures the school would have more of a knowledge of magic than his libarts school, which would mean he could understand why the fuck weed gave him magic (sidenote: it wasn’t weed, obvs, but he thinks this so for a while he doesn’t smoke!) 

he is now the chill hippie of wiggenstaff’s!!! most people like him because his personality is fairly easy to digest; some people think he shouldn’t be there, but he is! he starts out as a sidekick and he would’ve honestly been fine with that forever, but then he’s suddenly thrust into the hero track!!! wow!!!! i will also explain this with the magic. 

but yeah!! that’s fitzroy, for the most part. now we’ll move onto the other boy

argonaut keene:

he actually prefers if people call him argonaut, but he’s less likely to correct people than canon fitzroy Or canon argo. he’s a tad bit shyer in this universe!

argo’s backstory pretty much follows the same idea of his canonical background, but with some key differences that shape him into the character he is in the present! 

basically he still grows up on shebrie’s ship, surrounded by crewmates and the salty sea air. but his fascination with the sea doesn’t manifest into this swashbuckling lifestyle that he has in canon. 

what fascinates him more is the ship itself. how it functions, how water wears down wood, how directional currents can affect navigation. basically, he becomes invested in the sciences part of sealife more than the pirateering. he has special interests in marine biology, but his heart remains in nautical engineering. figuring out ways to make the ship run better, faster, and more efficiently consumes his childhood thoughts!

shebrie encourages her son’s craving for knowledge with tomes and books from all over the world about anything related to engineering and nautical things. he’s homeschooled, basically, but he becomes rather intelligent within a few short years! 

and then, well....shebrie dies. yeah we aren’t escaping that finality, sorry folks. that part of canon Still Applies.

after shebrie’s death (coughMURDERcough), argo is. traumatized! and he makes the decision to almost entirely sever himself from his life on the sea. it’s all too painful to look back upon--the times he spent studying with his mother in the captain’s quarters, rattling off dolphin facts as they sailed onward, dreaming of turning gears as the ship gently rocked him to sleep--and so he just decides to throw the whole thing out!

he can’t ignore his lifetime of education, though, so he continues to pursue it. with the remainder of money his mother left behind, he enrolls himself in a boarding school of science and technology, with plans to continue study in Only engineering. no more nautical Anything on his roster.

eventually, when he is old enough and graduates high school, he roams around...trying to figure out what to do. he doesn’t have enough money for college, so he can’t continue his scholarly efforts yet. he works around, job-to-job, city-to-city, and just notices how...delayed everything feels. like society is suffering under this slow pace towards innovation. 

and that’s when he decides his next course of action. if he were to discover the root of some problem and engineer a solution, he would be famous! he would gain notoriety and praise and--and all the things his mother had as a captain. but he would have it on his own, separate from his mother, and separate from his past. 

he figures out his next course of action: attend a school that will give his prestigious enough marks to be accepted onto a research team, find a problem, solve it, help the world, maybe earn a little bit of that credit and respect that would make him feel like he was doing his mother proud. 

the thing i want to emphasize here is that argo’s take on helping the world comes from that morality that canon fitzroy has. canon fitzroy wanted to be a knight because he wanted to fairly and justly instill ideas of “good” and “bad” onto the world. roleswap argo has a similar moral sense, but instead of establishing rules he wants to fix the “bad” and make it “good” in a technological/scientific sense.

the only school argo can think of that can get him that kind of notoriety is wiggenstaff’s. getting onto the HOG board would mean he’d have access to countless resources and be respected by a large audience, which would give him the opportunity to make change happen. even if he’s only a sidekick On Paper, what matters is that the diploma would give him the ability to Apply to the HOG. so he drafts a carefully worded letter for a scholarship and achieves a full-ride!!! epic 

like fitzroy’s magic, i’m going to break down argo’s relation to the unbroken chain after i get through backstory stuff. but trust me, I’ve Thought Of It

argo sort of blends into the background at wiggenstaff’s. or, he would, if his roommates/friends weren’t so Fucking Out There. fitzroy is enough to make him always be visible, but even the firbolg’s massive frame means eyes are always on him. which makes him nervous!! he doesn’t like the attention (as opposed to his canonical self, who revels in it for the self-esteem fuel) his insecurities manifest more in what he’s Doing rather than what he Is, mostly because his identity is barricaded by a wall of trauma repression

he’s still plenty funny and witty, just quieter. also he’s a lot Meaner than canon argo, at least to me. because if you irritate him he Will just completely shut you down with words. motherfucker doesn’t bark but he will most DEFINITELY bite

that’s their backstories, for the most part! in terms of how they interact together:

as established, they meet prior to wiggenstaff’s on a tinder date (during the grace period of argo working odd jobs and fitzroy about to be granted immense fucking power) and end up casually dating during the course of their wiggenstaff education. argo is a nervous goober and fitzroy just likes making him blush. it’s very cute.

fitzroy is still less inclined for the romantic than argo, who remains a steadfast absolute romantic internally. fitzroy still holds a lot of the self-doubt and distrust that canon fitzroy has, only it manifests in him not taking anything seriously! which means when he catches Feelings feelings he basically freaks out 

argo still falls in love really quickly, only now he’s more conflicted about it because being in love means trusting and trust means communication and communication means Oops Years Of Trauma Are Being Unloaded Uh Oh! 

now i’m going to touch on the big points that i find really interesting: fitzroy’s magic and argo’s relation to the unbroken chain

fitzroy’s magic:

chaos is not the being that grants him magic. it’s order! 

my take on what this means for what deity is on what plane of reality is that chaos is more Needed so they are the one that is physically On Nua, while Order remains in dreamscapes because they are already a constant amongst the tangible world. yes i know this directly contradicts the reasoning for why theyre Supposed to be where in canon, leave me alone i’m having fun. 

my reasoning for this switch is because chaos stands to be a contradiction to everything canon fitzroy has going on. he has a very strict, nailed-down understanding of himself and the world. everything he thinks is in black and white, bold statements, no questions, he follows rules and obeys the law. untiiiiil chaos gives him magic and shocks him out of that complacency. they lean into his inner impulses and that rage he’s kept locked deep inside. they allow for magic to Explode out of him, rather in calculated bursts or with intent. 

which is why order is more fitting for roleswap fitzroy!! because fitzroy, in this world, has less of a concrete grasp of himself and the world. he purposely lets himself be nebulous and goes with the flow. thinking of the future in real terms is not something fitzroy Does, he has no plans and that’s Fine. order seeks to give fitzroy a backbone, to put it simply. 

his magic doesn’t go impulsively out of him. it is calculated--it comes with thoughts and intentions. the reason it surprises fitzroy when the table blows up is because he didn’t think his thoughts or wants would amount into that, but that’s what order is trying to show him. that his intentions matter. that he matters and he has to Think and Focus and Be Here.

i’m still not sure if his power would manifest as lightning??? because the imagery for the lightning works perfectly for canon fitzroy because of the random power of lightning strikes. but for roleswap fitzroy it’s more like...thunder. like Purpose. thunder happens because of a reaction--it comes with intent. if differing air temperatures collide, it creates thunder. that combination is purpose + intent equating in magic. 

i think that part needs word bc like. how would one quantify thunder?? i think fire might also work really well because the idea of a controlled fire. like things have to Happen in order for fire to start, it can’t just appear like lightning can. 

order’s manipulation relies more heavily on the concept of boosting him up as a savior/hero, rather than boosting his ego and desire for power. fitzroy Has no desires in roleswap world--he’s just there. but when he gets put on the hero track, now he’s suddenly been given purpose. and order uses that to be like “wow, look at all these people who rely on you! look how important you are! don’t you want to use this magic for good?? to do good?? start a war with a demon come on pussy :-)”

OH YEAH also he becomes a hero in this universe (like in terms of tracks) because of the fact that it directly contradicts how he views himself. for canon fitzroy, it was showing him how much more he is capable of without the restrictions of morals (i.e, king fitzroy). but roleswap fitzroy doesn’t Have an image he wants to bolster! he doesn’t think he needs it and, frankly, he doesn’t care for it. the hero tracks carries with it all these stereotypes and expectations that now directly contradict his personality--thus showing him he is capable of more.

okay now for argo’s business jesus christ this post is so long and im NOT EVEN DONE WITH ALL THE POINTS I WANTED TO MENTION

argo’s relation to the unbroken chain:

so since roleswap argo has less of an association with his past (and, by extension, the memory of his mother), he is less inclined to join the mysterious cult that his mother was a part of. 

moreover, he doesn’t necessarily believe the shit he’s told??? he’s way more skeptical of jackal than canon argo is--immediately questioning why and how jackal knew his mother, and constantly trying to poke holes through his narrative.

generally speaking, if you try to talk to roleswap argo about his mother or his past, he Shuts Down. like completely. and that usually results in him snapping at you or just clamming up completely. mostly he just gets really snippy and angry because Hey Shut Up Dickhead I Don’t Want To Talk About It

a part of me still isn’t sure whether or not argo would take the unbroken chain up on their offer. but i also know that, plot wise and character arc wise, it is a necessary part of argo’s story. so i think, at most, he agrees but is extremely hesitant and might even let fitzroy on immediately once he’s given the task of digging into fitzroy’s life

also, they’re boyfriends in this universe, so how could he Really keep it a secret for that long. come on jackal, you idiot, you know they’re kissing. 

i think he’d Eventually warm up to jackal as a sort of father figure, but only after many nights of conversation and dancing around the subject of shebrie.

OH YEAH. this argo doesn’t know the commodore murdered his mother! important to note! he just assumes what he was told was true, that she sailed into dangerous territory and was ambushed. 

during the tribunal bit If That Even Happens In This World, i think fitzroy actually is the one who figures it out Before argo. and once argo does, well............fuck!

OKAY last little bit, just gonna talk about some random extra parts of the world that i’ve thought of already: 

in this universe, grey takes on higglemas’s identity instead of hieronymous’s!!! this is for good reason actually

okay so basically my thought was that, instead of whatever happened in canon yadda yadda dog time, hieronymous and grey are fighting and it’s a pretty evenly matched battle. there’s a cooldown moment where hiero thinks he’s safe but grey uses sneaky backhanded tactics to try and get the drop on him. 

only higgs sees it in time and saves his brother, taking the hit himself. he collapses, extremely wounded, and hiero rushes to his aid. he’s cradling his brother’s body, trying to keep him alive, when grey approaches to deliver the final blow. 

hiero is completely crushed and defeated and basically will let grey do anything to him by this point. the only thing he begs of is to let him live long enough to save his brother.

now, grey isn’t nice. let me make that clear. grey fucking SUCKS and the reason he agrees is because he wants a Real War with hiero and he can’t get that if hiero is basically like “if you let higgs die then you might as well kill me”.

so, grey agrees, and hiero ends up saving higgs by turning him into a cat. was supposed to be a temporary solution until he could find a better spell, but he wasn’t the magic guy in the duo. eventually, grey gets tired of waiting and decides to do some other shit. like turning the school the brothers have been running into a backalley place for demons!!

he takes the form of higglemas and leaves hieronymous locked in his office as basically a mascot. he’s like the queen and grey is the parliament--grey makes all the rules, but everyone assumes it’s hiero. faux-higgs is more on the ground, changing things and making the school a place more fitting for an eventual war. he builds up the concept of heroes and villains being Real, in the hopes he can sway some mortals to his side when he’s able to open a portal to hell. 

hiero still tries to stop this from happening, but his pride and his self-image is wounded by what happened. he feels guilty and puts the blame entirely on him, instead of doing the whole cowardice route like higgs did in canon. he gets people to help him eventually, via mind control and all tht jazz. 

also in this universe, buckminster is the one who gets birdified instead of leon!! has to do with my leon/buckminster and higgs/hiero narrative parallels that i’ve thought of for far too long.

firbolg is exactly the same in this universe. it is hard to swap three people and i didn’t want to think about him. 

fitzroy doesn’t pick a grab. i think he’d rather a lizard, like a bearded dragon. he names him something stupid. like scaly. or kyle. 

uhhh yeah!!! i think that’s....everything i’ve thought of so far!! lemme know if you wanna hear my takes on any other elements in the roleswap world!!!!

[hecohansen31]

The Perks Of The Bush

Modern! Ivar+Tinder Date! Reader

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

Lately I know that I have been awfully annoying, and again... it isn’t an easy week this one, so I wanted to publish something more to make up for it and brighten your mood.

This is honestly a crack fight, about something that sadly all us girls go through so I thought it’d be a cute idea to post and brighten the mood.

Also this was inspired by an ask I saw answered on @laketaj24​ about Vikings being scared or not by the hair ‘down there’, so I just wanted to give her credit and now I’ll shut up and leave you to read this!

WARNINGS: Sex, Oral Sex (Female Receving), Internalized Misogyny and Prejudices, Talk of Pubic Hair.

Being a girl was a constant pain in the ass.

Not only you were paid less than men and you had to deal with a culture in which rape jokes were considered funny, but you were also held to incredible high standards to satisfy.

And one of this was for your skin to be soft and shaven like the a child’s one.

No hair should be left on any part of your body, although it was much more natural than clean shaven and helped from infections and such.

And worst of all, whereas you had to be perfectly cured, men could literally appear everywhere with uncured beards, chest-hair and worst of all… pubic hair that hadn’t seen a drop of water in years.

And yet, you had to be the perfect one.

And you didn’t mind it, you had always liked to keep yourself clean, appreciating the feeling of shaven legs, also because it was much easier than everything else, with the use of creams and a razor.

But the thing between your legs was another question.

A bigger problem.

Meanwhile you had dealt the entirety of your life as a single girl with your razor, hoping that the bikini bottom you had chosen would cover everything else, because… Gosh wouldn’t it have been a tragedy for a man to see a pubic hair?

Hadn’t they been born in the same state.

But as soon as you had gotten a boyfriend and started fooling around, the thing between your legs had to be clean-shaven and thankfully Elaine, your best friend, was quite handy with wax and, although it hurt like a bitch, you always made sure to keep yourself ‘clean’ for your rendez-vous.

Just for most time to be left unsatisfied because they either were as big as a peanut down there or they didn’t know what a clitoris was.

So, slowly you had allowed yourself to become quite ‘wild’ down there, not interested enough in anyone.

Till you had met Ivar.

And you had gladly put yourself through the torture of the wax again, because your newest boyfriend was a literal god with his tongue, not to talk about his reanimated member…

… definitely not the size of a peanut.

But yet, waxing and such wasn’t something that you were handy in doing on your own, ending up relying on someone else, either a beautician or Elaine, and this week you had an appointment with the latter, but sadly Elaine had cancelled it at the last moment.

Apparently, she had gotten a last-minute date.

‘He is a hunk’ she had spoken excited with you, as she got herself ready for a date.

‘Yeah, but… Elaine… I honestly need a waxing… you have no idea the situation I have down there’ and the situation in which your relationship with Ivar was.

It had been three weeks since the last time you had had sex, him busy with his own things at work and you insecure about your bush down there “… can’t you reprogram the date?’.

‘Said from the one who left me for a stranger…’ mumbled pointedly Elaine, before sweetening the tone ‘… I won’t be able to sadly do anything before the weekend, but I’ll have a spot for you, for sure!’.

And like that the line had gone dead, and you had been left wondering whether you should attempt to shave your entire ‘bush’ or hope that it’d magically disappear.

But as you hadn’t taken a choice, you heard the door opening signaling that Ivar was back, and you were met with a dark stare of lust as he caught you in your most discarded state of mind, still in your pajama and with your hair in a messy bun.

And it wasn’t that you didn’t want to have sex with him.

In fact, you felt a wave of warmth as he immediately came over to you to drop a small kiss on your lips, languid and teasing, as he molded softly his lips against yours, before retreating softly, as he caressed your lips with his, before separating as his hands moved lower.

And you stopped them.

You felt damnably insecure of letting them see you in such a state, mostly because of the prejudices you had made your own about not shaving and your own ‘bush’.

Maybe Ivar would be disgusted, he’d probably think that it was a sign of bad hygiene.

God only knew how much he liked keeping everything neat…

‘… I think we need to talk’ he mumbled softly, as he retreated lightly and you breathed out heavily, aware that sexuality wasn’t something he was comfortable with and to be straight up rejected like that was making him overthink the entire situation.

“Ivar it isn’t you…”.

“But it’s me, right?” his voice was more aggressive than you liked so you just sent a look on his way to tell him to ‘tone it down’ “… I am… sorry, but I just can’t believe you… is sex with me… awful?”.

“No no!” you immediately denied, coming closer to him, as you both sat down on the sofa, touching his chest gently and made sure to hold eye-contact, something that never failed to make Ivar understand you were speaking truthfully “… the sex with you is amazing… Gosh even better than I thought it was possible…”.

“Then why do you keep on denying me?” frustration was evident in Ivar’s tone, although he was trying to keep calm “… because if it isn’t awful… then…”.

“I haven’t shaved in three weeks down there” you mumbled softly, completely disrupting whatever Ivar was going to add, as he was left with his mouth open and confused, almost as if he was trying to piece together what you had just said, before closing his mouth and opening it again.

“… and that is the reason why you don’t want to have sex?” and as you nodded slowly, he erupted in laughter “… Gosh, sweetheart, I don’t care”:

“Ivar…” you tried not to whack him across the face “… the situation is bad… like bad”.

“… again… babe… it isn’t a problem” now he didn’t have that teasing tone anymore, dead serious, as a hand shot out to one of yours “… I don’t… I don’t think that it’d make me feel less attracted to you”.

“As much as I appreciate it, Ivar” you mumbled pushing him slightly away “… you don’t know the situation”.

“Then let me see” now that awful damned smirk was back on his face and you couldn’t help but blush lightly “… c’mon it isn’t anything that I haven’t seen before!”.

“… stop being a smartass” you huffed out, lightly.

“And you stop denying me that precious thing between your legs” he contrasted you, and this time you did deliver a light whack across his chest “… babe, I know that you want it… and you shouldn’t be that insecure, you are the only one for whom I can get it up… quite literally”.

“You are awful” you commented, but still raised up and lowered lightly your panties and pants to let him see as you closed your eyes, lightly, worried about his judgement and as you were met with only silence, you almost thought that in the end he was disgusted, like all the others.

But then his hands gently got your pants and panties lower, as they pushed you closer to him, till his head could nestle between your legs, making you moan out at the first flick of his tongue and finally your eyes opened to see an extremely focused Ivar, quickly slithering his tongue between your legs.

And your hands almost as if it was second nature to you, grabbed onto his sleek hair to bring him closer.

He kept up his ministrations, his gaze completely unchanged by the other times he had done the same when the nest between your legs was solely sleek.

As if he didn’t seem to find any difference.

And you were glad.

Once everything was finished, multiple rounds later, because not having sex for three weeks brought out every frustration of you both, Ivar brought you closer as you softly mumbled into him, tired after all the ‘physical activity’ and mumbled.

‘… I am not saying that you shouldn’t shave it…” he whispered, as you giggled ‘…but I certainly don’t mind the bush, it’s actually cute”.

Well, apparently, also the ‘bush’ had its perks.

----

@youbloodymadgenius​ @alexhandersenx​ @peaceisadirtyword​ @madamaholmes​ @flowers-in @ justananotherlazzyperson  @ thespottedcreature  @ amy8220  @peakygroupie​ @ where-are-you-everywhere  @emmyrosee​ @crys-1029​ @avengers-fixation​ @ bagpipes606 @mac5323​ @ serafina21 @lost-soul-was-taken​

[mutedrop]

idk if this is the dumbest place and idea to open up about my personal life, but I'm gonna do it anyway.

some relationship advice would be appreciated...

this might be a long story so bear with me.

so, I met this girl back in 2007. i was fourteen. we instantly hit it off, and it didn't take long before we started dating. i think I'd already figured I was bisexual by then. i think we were the couple that people would call "like an old married couple".

we dated for almost three years. neither of us were mentally in the best place, i was depressed (i was horrible, well, u know how depression can change you), she had issues of her own.

she cheated in 2009. we broke up. and if I wasn't already a mess then i definitely became one. i was really angry for a long time, but we didn't get out of each other's lives. we stayed "friends", however unhealthy it was. because she moved on, and i was right there, watching it happening next to me when I couldn't bare the thought of having her out of my life.

time passed. it was really, really hard for me to get over her. but i guess at some point I did, i started drifting away from her - well, distancing myself from the pain that kept jabbing in my bones. she changed partners, moved a little further away. i want to remind you we stayed friends.

i dated a few other people, had some one night stands. but i never felt right with any of them. i was always the one who "ran away" and ended things with people. i think there were probably at least three hearts i broke at that time because I just didn't feel it, couldn't do it.

i think I started to heal, in more ways than one. i was still a bit of a mess, struggling to, kind of, know what I wanted. i didn't really know what my gender identity was, and it bothered me. for a long time I bordered on transgender ftm. (i even got diagnosed as one in... 2012-2013?). these days i just go with genderfluid. i have a more feminine phase now, and it’s okay with me!

few years passed and we didn't see each other a whole lot. i mean, we hung out, she just lived further away. although seeing her was always really painful. i think I evaded her actually.

i decided to move back to my childhood town in 2016. we saw each other less. we lived two hours apart. i was already getting my shit together, and was mentally whole a lot better (also, i wasn't a moody teenager anymore).

fast forward to 2020, i started seeing a girl I met on tinder. we hung out, hooked up, and i already saw she was getting quite attached over the summer. at that point, I was making phone calls with my ex (yes the one I've been talking about the whole time). she'd broken up with her girlfriend of 7 years at that point. I broke off the thing I had with the girl I met, because I couldn't do it. It didn't feel right.

not long after that, I went to see my ex. it had been almost half a year since we last met i guess. i stayed at her place for a few days. i had so much fun - i couldn't remember the last time I laughed like that. and I felt things.

when I left, i couldn't hold the emotions for long. i told her that I felt i still loved her. she told me she noticed.

we started talking. she warned me about expecting too much of her. we spoke on the phone. met again. I talked about my feelings, a lot. she talked about how her exes were always jealous of me. we were always something else. there's something deeper, a connection i couldn't find anywhere else. we saw each other again, and i talked more. she told me she wanted to kiss me, but she was terrified - that if we'd try again and failed we would lose our friendship. 

next time we met and while I was making my leave, she did. kiss me, that is. and, gods, nothing never felt so right before.

we met up a few times during the autumn. but i was puzzled. once i asked why wouldn’t she touch me - and i mean just brushing fingers, holding hands. she said she had a lot of her mind, that she was anxious. we were kissing, but i didn't know where we stood. i asked a few times, but she couldn't give me an answer. she got a new dog suddenly - sounds irrelevant but it kind of isn't - and i felt ... betrayed? i was actually really angry, because it was impulsive, and i was already attached to the imaginary future i had in my head. i know it sounds dumb but i was jealous of the dog. it... sounds so dumb now that I tell it! i have three of my own, so I’m definitely a dog person. somehow it was just... too much. but i felt like as if she was trying to push me away. i told her how i felt about it, how it actually hurt me, because i felt like i wasn’t enough. 

(at that point i’d already started to write my feelings into a fic, all of this I’ve been talking about now, and i let her read it the more i wrote.)

i stayed with her for a few weeks because of a job i got for the time. at a point, i grew a little frustrated. i felt like a roommate who got kissed. she’d said she’d want to take things slow, but after a while i asked about it again. because I... might sound dumb and selfish, but i wanted to feel loved. that things would lead up somewhere. that the relationship would grown, and not stagnate on such a weird level. i didn’t want to be a...  foregone conclusion. the fact we were friends and used to date didn’t mean i would just have her have me if she wouldn’t work for it. i felt like i was pining. and I sat her down and told her i wanted to talk about it. she’d kiss me, but didn’t really like to be touched. 

and again, i might sound selfish, but hugs and kisses aren’t enough for me in a serious relationship, if it ever came to that. i want to be touched, i want to feel like i’m one with a person i yearn for. i want things to collide, i need the flirt, the fluff, i want to share how i feel, what i think, even if a little beyond the innocent. the feeling like i’d be missed if i went away. but i still felt like just a friend to her, when I felt so much it hurt more often than not.

so we talked, and it wasn’t without tears she told she wasn’t sure if she’d ever want to get intimate. and as far as i knew her and understood what she said, she’s not asexual (and she definitely wasn’t back when we were together), but she had an issue with sex. but she wouldn’t let me in on it. i asked if she ever would, and I didn’t get a straight answer. it’s never straight with her.  i would, and i would love to, help her, talk with her about everything, but she deflects every time i try.

and since then, I’ve been really torn.

she said she wrote me a letter about it, but as luck would have it, it got lost in the mail and it’s been two weeks since she sent it. and I don’t dare to demand her what she wrote. but i feel like i’m sinking, because things are still the same. we’re not closer, things aren’t growing (although it’s a bit because i had so much work i haven’t been able to see her). but i feel like i don’t want to keep asking and asking, again and again, for reasons. i’m constantly holding myself in. i don’t dare to try warming things up, even just innocently flirt. i don’t want to push her, but I’m also getting so so tired of not knowing a shit about anything.

i have no idea if i’m just on my way for getting my heart broken, again, by her. i’m willing to work for us, but i don’t know to what lengths she is. i’ve told her, that i can’t wait forever. i just can’t take it. what the hell am i supposed to do?

[honeyymistt]

I know this may be a lot, but I need an outside perspective. I have a friend who I was really close with, I trusted him more than anyone else, and we talked about everything. He knew more about me than anyone. We were best friends for a year and eventually we started an open fwb relationship. Things were great for a while, but then he got upset with me for hanging out with other guys, even though that was within the bounds we had laid out and discussed pretty extensively because we had a really good setup for open communication. He brought it up once near the end of last semester but told me not to stop seeing other people because he didn't want to say he wanted to be exclusive and then change his mind on me and have caused me to cut other guys off. I listened to him but cooled it on talking to other guys because I didn't want to hurt him. We went home for the summer (but he lives in the town where our university is so really he stayed there) and we talked every day like we have since we became friends and we facetimed every night just like we had over winter break (before the fwb situation). I wasn't really talking to other guys until I went on a date with a guy I met on tinder and felt too scared to say no to when he asked me to hang out with him so I got coffee with the guy. Apparently, me talking to other guys bothered him more than he had told me, and instead of talking to me about it, he went and started exclusively dating a girl he had known for a week. He waited a week and a half after they decided this to tell me and, when he did, he admitted that part of him did it to hurt me. I don't want to lose him because I've never trusted someone as much as I used to trust him, but it hurts to know that any part of him was willing to hurt me to any degree especially for someone he barely knows and admits that he's not even sure he really wants to date. I don't know if I'll ever be able to trust him the same way again. We go to a small university so I won't be able to avoid him, but still being friends is proving difficult. I have a process for forgiveness, and I'm usually pretty good at moving on, but I've never had to do those things with the expectation that I will still be close with the person after. I don't forgive him yet, but I am trying to work on it because I know we can't be friends still if I don't. I've seen him once since he told me because he only told me two days before he was scheduled to fly out to visit me and at that point, I couldn't ask him to cancel his flights. In the two days before he arrived I was so anxious I barely ate and I was so angry I thought about just trying to make him miserable the whole time he was visiting. We ended up talking about it because he kept pushing me because he knew I was upset and he didn't want to be miserable the whole time he was visiting. Things were a bit better after that. It was really weird to be around him and we don't know how to interact because both of us are normally super affectionate with our friends, but we're afraid of crossing lines since we used to be fwb and other people (namely the girl he's dating) might read into it. We just don't know where the lines are/should be in a situation like this. We've had a few conversations about everything so I know that he really regrets what he did and that this situation is painful and difficult and confusing for him too, but that is only making it harder for me to figure this all out. It hurts to be around him because I miss how comfortable and safe it used to feel and how much I trusted him. We talk less now since he's back home and I have the paranoia of 'maybe he actually hates me' that I used to never have with him but have always had with other friends. I just don't know if it's worth the emotional labor it requires if I'm just working towards a worse relationship than we had before. I don't want to talk to my other friends about the details of this because, like I said, it's a small school so stuff gets around. I also don't want them to treat him differently because I know that would hurt him. Any advice on

how to navigate all this? Am I doing the right thing in staying friends with him?

oh gosh, i just want to give you a big hug :( this sounds really challenging mentally and i'm so sorry that you don't feel comfortable with talking about this with your uni friends. you can always come to me <3

to actually give my perspective on this, i've never been in a fwb situation so i'm not sure how helpful my advice will be but i'll try my best! i'm not gonna lie, there are a lot of things in here that popped out to me as major red flags: him not wanting you to talk to other guys even though that was allowed, you feeling like you needed to cut off other guys, him not being able to communicate his hurt/anger/betrayal (?), etc., him dating a girl (partially to hurt you) and then not telling you. all of these are things that display his immaturity in your fwb situation. he messed up pretty bad and there's no denying that. you are totally valid in your feelings of confusion about whether or not you want to continue your friendship with him because he hurt you and he was unfair to you.

to offer another perspective on this whole situation, i think that not a lot of people will admit to their mistakes. not a lot of people will admit that part of them did something to hurt you. and yes, he did do some very bad things, but like you said, he feels sorry for what he did and i think that he's going to learn and mature from his faults.

i'm all for second chances in relationships (platonic, romantic, platonic & romantic, etc.) but the final say is ultimately up to you because i think that deep down, you already know whether or not you want him in your life. currently, i think that there are two ways that you could navigate this. there are definitely more choices but these are the two that i think are best.

1. you have 1 conversation with him where you lay everything out on the table. you both give each other a chance to say your side of the story, your true feelings, your mistakes (there may be some things that you did that were hurtful to him that you hadn't noticed or that he didn't communicate) and you both put your thoughts together on how to move forward. what do you both need from each other to get to how you were before? i know that you mentioned that you've had a few conversations with him before but do you feel like you held back a bit? are there things that were left unsaid? if there are, then it's likely that he feels the same way. i would suggest talking out this whole thing with him one last time if this is the case.

2. if continuing your friendship with him is causing you stress to the point of not sleeping or eating, i would say to distance yourself. if you need a temporary break from each other to reflect on what you did and/or recover from what was done to you, then do it. there's no rush in being friends again. there's this quote that i saw awhile and it said: "A break from someone will either make you realize how much you truly miss/love them or how much peace you have without them."

people make mistakes all the time and sometimes you ask yourself what you or the other person was thinking before doing it and the truth is, they probably weren't and they definitely weren't thinking about the potential consequences; but there's this tweet that i saw and it said "y'all be beating yourself up about the mistakes you've made in the past as if you been here twice or something. this is your first time living this life. give yourself some grace as you've learned to navigate through it. you don't know what you don't know til you know better." (IamKiraJ via twitter) i think the same thing goes towards other people's mistakes. they don't know what they don't know until they know better. you can call me too forgiving, but i think he knows better now. he has been good friend to you for a long time and i'm sure he's done a lot of good in your life. it's just up to you to decide whether or not the bad that he did was a deal breaker.

[7-wonders]

Almost Feelings

Summary: Just when things were starting to get back to normal, an accidental confession by Michael sends shockwaves through your relationship.

Word Count: 3148

A/N: Another chapter of Mad Love, done. Thanks for sticking with me, and I hope this doesn’t suck too much.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15

Life manages to slowly reassume a state of relative normality. After Dinah Stevens had checked you over and declared you free of Satan’s influence, you were allowed to actually leave your bed and once again have freedom. Well, limited freedom. Michael has been wary of letting you out of his sight, terrified that Satan will once again attempt to control you. Your father-in-law hasn’t made an appearance in your lives since the night that he possessed a cocktail waitress, which is what scared both you and Michael the most. 

Michael had fully been expecting to be swept down to Hell for a thorough scolding about “spurning” the gifts being given to him. As the days passed with none of the usual indicators that Satan was near, your worry started to wane. Surely he had better things to do than stalk you and wait to once again try the plan that had already failed? Michael, on the other hand, wasn’t too sure. If there’s one thing he knows about the being he’s never met, it’s that he’s extremely patient. 

The gilded cage in which you’ve spent the past days under Michael’s watch has become increasingly more confining. Even if you weren’t outwardly expressing your discomfort, Michael would be able to sense it. Although he wants nothing more than to make sure you’re safe at all times, he knows he can’t keep you locked in the house. Maybe if he was less of a lovestruck Antichrist, he would have no qualms about it. The power dynamics in your relationship have changed, for better or for worse, and he cares about your wants far too much for him to disregard your feelings. 

It’s only been a few days since your bout of “food poisoning” when Michael finally agrees with you that it’s safe to return to class, but it feels as if it’s been months. Even in the largest house you’ve ever inhabited, cabin fever still runs rampant. As he watches you run out the door to get to campus, Michael feels a tugging in his chest that he’s come to associate with you. Watching the one person you love most in the world leave the safety of your protection is a pain that, unfortunately, Michael’s become all too familiar with.

While Michael’s dealing with emotions he’s never had before, you’re nearly drunk on the freedom that you’ve been denied lately. It’s not exactly warm out, but the windows in your car are rolled down and the wind whips your hair around your face as you sing along to the radio at the top of your lungs.

Classes, of course, you could do without. It’s the little moments, getting to laugh with your friends in class and holing up in your favorite hidden corners when you have a break, that make the monotony of lectures bearable. Michael, predictably, breaks the established rules of communication by texting you to make sure that you’re okay at least once an hour. Prior to momentarily being Satan’s puppet, this would have irritated you to no end. Now, you understand Michael’s motives in a way that you previously hadn’t.

“You look a lot better,” Mallory says in place of a regular greeting when you meet up with her in the library after class.

“As opposed to my regularly horrendous appearance?” She rolls her eyes, obviously not appreciating your joke.

“You know what I meant.” You slide into the seat across the table from Mallory, tugging your textbook and laptop out of your backpack. “The endless bout of food poisoning is finally gone for good?”

“I think so. I started feeling human a couple of days ago, and this is the first day I haven’t felt like crawling into a hole and dying since I got sick.”

“Well that’s good. I almost thought you were avoiding us after revealing your secret.” You look up, panicked at what she could mean before realizing that she means your living arrangements.

“Oh! No, I wouldn’t avoid you guys, because it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Really? Because with the way that Michael looks at you, you would think that you were married.”

You laugh nervously and pretend to search for a pen in your bag, attempting to hide your anxious expression. “Like I’ve told you before, we’re just friends and he was nice enough to help me out when I was facing a tough time.”

“It’s not a bad thing if you do have feelings for him, (Y/N).”

“I just don’t get why you and Kate are stuck on this idea,” you grumble.

Mallory’s gaze softens when she sees how her comments affected you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

“I’m not mad at you, I promise. Let’s just work on homework before we get too off-track.”

Of course, this plan works for a good twenty minutes, giving you just enough time to read and take notes from one chapter of your text before your attention is drawn away from the task at hand. Mallory had merely asked for your help in identifying the proper use of ‘affect’ versus ‘effect,’ which almost immediately led to discussing topics that have nothing to do with schoolwork. 

“I think we need to focus on the real issue here,” you comment as Mallory laments Kate and Brennan’s latest argument, this one about moving in together.

“Which is?”

“Your own love life, of course.” Mallory groans, making you pout. “Mal, you haven’t mentioned any sort of romantic interest once since I met you.”

“Because I have better things to do than spend my time swiping on Tinder.” You can tell that there’s more she’s not divulging, and a good minute of remaining silent while sneaking glances at her has the brunette finally speaking again. “I...my last relationship didn’t end well at all.”

“Was this while you were still living in New Orleans?”

“Yeah. Actually, my decision to transfer here is what led to our break up. She wanted me to stay, I wanted to go, and that was that.”

You feel for her, but an interesting bit of information captures the majority of your attention. “‘She!’”

Mallory flushes, attempting to stutter out an answer, but you’re far too excited to allow her to speak.

“Ooh, that doubles the potential dating pool for you! I know so many people who would be so interested in you, and they’re just the ones that I can think of off the top of my head.”

“While I appreciate your excitement, I’m just not sure I’m quite ready for another relationship yet.” You nod in understanding, but Mallory’s phone chiming ends the conversation before you can suggest slowly diving back into the dating pool. “Ugh, I’ve gotta get going.”

“Yeah, I should probably go too. I have way too much homework that I haven’t gotten started on.”

“Wanna make a deal?” Mallory asks as you walk towards the parking lot together.

“A deal?”

“Mhm. I won’t bring up the Michael issue anymore if you won’t try and drag me out to go and meet new people.”

You have to hand it to her; she’s extremely good at bartering. “Alright then, we have a deal.”

//

Shockingly, Michael’s not waiting at the door for you when you arrive home. You find him in the kitchen searching for food, although he does look like he’s trying not to seem like he’s waiting for you.

“Hey,” you greet, hopping up on the counter and pulling Michael into a hug that he begrudgingly returns.

“Hi. How were classes today?”

“I survived, so…” you trail off, shrugging.

“And you’re feeling okay? Nothing odd happened to you?”

“No, I’m great.” Just to prove how great you are, you shove Michael away from you. “Could someone possessed by Satan do that?”

“No, I suppose not.”

Getting off of the counter, you snag a sandwich from a plate and take a very well-deserved bite. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You’ve asked me many questions about many things, all without asking beforehand if you can.”

“Well it’s a touchy subject, and people usually like to make sure that it’s okay to ask.”

Michael looks at you like he’s not sure he wants to know what you’ll ask, but nods anyways. “Ask away, then.”

“You’re treating this whole situation like it’s your fault.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

“Sorry. Why are you treating this whole situation like it’s your fault?”

“I’m not.”

Wrinkling your nose, you cross your arms over your chest and glare. “I thought you hated lies.”

“It wasn’t a lie,” he scoffs.

“Michael, you’re terrified about me leaving your sight and you do anything and everything I ask. It’s okay to feel like it’s your fault, but I need you to know that it’s not.”

“How is it not my fault? It happened at an event that I took you to, it was my father who poisoned you, and it’s because you’re an unwilling part of this prophecy that I dragged you into.”

“Are you your father? Are you the one who made me drink that potion? Did you take advantage of me when you could have?”

“No, I’m not, and I didn’t, but I’m the reason he tried it in the first place!”

The room falls silent, and you watch as Michael’s eyes widen. You wouldn’t have thought anything about his statement in the first place if he hadn’t shown any fear in his eyes, assuming it to just be a blanket statement since Satan’s his father. Now, you’re starting to suspect there might be something more.

“What do you mean, ‘you’re the reason he tried it in the first place?’”

“I-I--” Michael shakes his head as he stammers, taking a cautious step back from you.

“Michael,” you snap, patience running thin.

“Fuck, (Y/N)!” He runs a hand through his hair, and you’re shocked at his uncharacteristic use of a swear. “I was impatient and frustrated, and so I sought out my father’s advice for help. I knew it was wrong the moment he gave me a solution, but he was so angry that I even thought about turning down his ‘gift’ that I...I took it.”

“You knew he was going to give me that drink at the Cooperative event?” You’re oddly calm, something that frightens Michael more than any amount of anger could.

“No! No, I knew nothing about that.”

You take your time digesting this information, letting Michael stew in his anxiety as your jaw clenches tightly. “So there was another time, then?”

“Yes, there was.”

Thinking through every interaction you’ve had with Michael in the past couple of months, you can only think of a couple of occasions where he’s acted stranger than normal. Only one of those, however, involved Satan’s ironic choice of apples.

“The day where I had the weird dream that I couldn’t remember, and then you freaked out when I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl,” you say bitterly. “You put that fucking apple there!”

“I didn’t have a choice--”

“Yes, you did. You contacted your father because you were pissed I wasn’t your adoring little wife, you put that apple in the bowl, you watched as I ate what you thought was your father’s gift, and you kept this little secret from me!”

The lights flicker ominously above you, a silent warning to watch yourself before Michael loses control. Today, however, those signs of Michael’s immense powers couldn’t mean less to you. 

“I wanted to protect you. The second you grabbed that apple, I regretted even contacting my father in the first place. I assumed that, by not telling you in the first place, that would mean you weren’t living every day in fear.”

“You don’t get to decide what information I should and shouldn’t know, especially when it directly concerns me and my life.”

“I know that, and you need to trust me when I say that I am so, so sorry for the way that this happened.” Michael reaches a hand out to try and physically convey just how sorry he is, but you shove him away as you shake your head emphatically. The tears brimming in your eyes physically cause him pain, and all he wants to do is feel one of your hugs as he wipes your sadness away. 

“How do you expect me to trust you anymore? You lied to me and put my life at risk, solely for your own selfish reasons,” you cry out, spinning on your heel and marching up the stairs.

“I don’t expect you to trust me, and I’ll spend every day trying to earn that trust back--”

“No,” you spit, coming to a stop at your bedroom door. “This isn’t something that you can just apologize a few times for and then everything is okay again.”

Michael watches helplessly from the threshold of your room, not willing to go in as you grab a bag and start throwing clothes into it.

“I know you’ve never really seen the dynamics of any sort of a healthy relationship, but surely even you should know that this is not the way that people are treated.”

“What are you doing? Are you leaving?”

You ignore his question, walking into the bathroom before returning with an armful of toiletries. “You say that you’re in love with me? What you did is not love. Love is honesty, and protection, and admitting your mistakes when you make them. Love is not lying to save face, or believing that you know better than the person you claim you love.”

“(Y/N),” Michael says brokenly, hoping to somehow find enough of a gap in your sentences to attempt and repair what’s been broken.

“You’re not supposed to hurt those that you love, and you hurt me.”

“I do love you, and I never wanted any of this to happen!” Now Michael’s crying too, blue eyes stormy as tears trail down his cheeks.

“You don’t love me, Michael. You love the idea of what I’m supposed to be for you. You think that I’m just going to wake up one day and fit into this role that supposedly is mine by prophecy, but I’m not. It’s been almost a year; either release me from this sham of a Satanic marriage or kill me, because I will never be what you want me to be.”

Michael feels like his entire world is crumbling around him as you zip up your bag and toss it over your shoulder. He has to do something to fix this, but it’s as if he’s frozen in place. You can’t even look him in the eyes as you pass, knowing that you’ll lose your resolve if you do.

“Just because your father doesn’t love you doesn’t give you the excuse to have a skewed idea of love.” You pause at the front door, hand on the doorknob as you look back at him. “I need to be alone for a couple of days. Don’t bother trying to contact me, I won’t answer.”

Closing the door behind you, you can hear Michael’s screams of agony as you run to your car and fumble with the keys. The key’s barely in the ignition before you’re driving away, angrily swiping tears from your face to attempt to keep your sight clear.

How could he betray you like this? How could he sit by, hearing you thank him profusely for saving your life, when it was all his fault? Your mind whirls with a cacophony of questions, all of them leaving behind a bitter disappointment.

He’s supposed to be your friend. Up until today, you had thought things were going well, and you genuinely liked your Satanic roommate. Now, you don’t know if you can ever even trust him again. This deception stings more than you would have expected. After all, you used to despise him; why should this hurt you when you had expected the bare minimum? Maybe this is all your fault for placing your trust in a person who should not be trusted under any circumstances.

You’re too lost in your thoughts to register movement out of the corner of your eye until it’s too late, a small deer jumping directly in the path of your oncoming vehicle. Gasping, you slam on the brakes in an attempt to save the animal. Startled by the sound, the deer dashes across the road into the tree-line. You should be in the clear, but a quick rainstorm earlier in the evening has left the roads wet. As the car hydroplanes across the road, you quickly realize that there’s no stopping its path.

The car careens through the deserted road, crashing in the ditch and coming to a stop when it hits a tree. Although you try to brace yourself, the force of the crash overwhelms any strength you may have. Your head smacks against the steering wheel, and though you only lose consciousness for a second, it’s frighteningly disorienting to wake up again.

Your head screams in pain as you lift yourself up, and you can feel a warm liquid coursing down your face. Gingerly touching the source, you examine your fingers and confirm that you’re bleeding. Throwing open the car door, you stumble and land on your hands and knees. When you attempt to stand, the world tilts under your feet, so you settle from crawling away from the wreckage.

Of course this would happen to you when you’re attempting to put some distance between you and Michael. Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if this crash was orchestrated by Satan himself to voice his displeasure at the situation. You try your hardest to crawl towards the road, hoping that a lone car will spot you and get help, but your arms give out underneath you and send you falling to the ground.

Staring up at the darkening sky, you can only hope that this concussion isn’t the kind that includes internal bleeding. There’s a chance for you to make your way to safety if you can regain your bearings, but the dropping temperatures make you worry that you’ll be out in the cold all night. Just as you’ve resigned yourself to freezing to death, the sound of feminine voices approaching you gives you hope.

“Over here, help me!” you call weakly, attempting to sit up to see who’s out there.

Four women walk towards you; an older woman with crimped red hair, two blondes, and a brunette. One of the blondes bends down beside you and, instead of calling for help, smiles at you with perfectly-painted pink lips as she strokes your bloodied hair away from your face. You panic as you feel yourself losing consciousness again, wide eyes darting around the group as you try to ask what’s going on. Right before passing out, you lock eyes with the brunette and feel a flicker of recognition.

“Mallory?”

//

Tag List: @ccodyfern @trelaney @sammythankyou @girlycakepops @ultragibbycentralworld @xavierplympton @ajokeformur-ray @nana15774 @queencocoakimmie @lichellaw @grim-adventures58 @dandycandy75 @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @everything-is-awesomesauce @jimmlangdon @omgsuperstarg @queenie435 @dextergirl12345 @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @1-800-bitchcraft @coloursunlimited​ @kahhlo​ @storminmytwistedmind​ @langdonslove​ @cuddletothecake​ @nsainmoonchild​ @born-on-stgeorges-day​ @tcc-gizmachine​ @90sroger​ @gold-dragon-slayer​ @atombombastic​ @lvngdvns​ @blakewaterxx​ @yoheyyosup​ @forever1313​ @ladyrindt​ @kaetastic​ @hecohansen31​ @loilko​ @riotsouls666 @lustminaj​ @accio-rogers​ @holylangdon​ @lenas-wild-imagination @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night​ @diaryofalandlockedmermaid​ @dark-mei-rose​