#fair warning :

[spacehomos]

Kaos

Dennis

[hanase]

I am obsessed with Atem right now. It's been going on for a few months. There's a story here but I can't write for shit. I'll upload a lot more soon!

[seraphinitegames]

Oh man, i would love to try the villain route but i dont think my heart can take a sad ending lol ><

Yeah, I will say now (again, I know I'm repeating, just want people to REALLY aware of how this romance is gonna be) that even though I really don't like sad endings, this romance route is not for the faint of heart and will end tragically painful...in all endings, even the super 'true' love ending.

This character is a villain. A real villain. And my villains do tend to get what they deserve.

The villain romance will be very much that 'I really shouldn't be in love with you but I can't help it' kind of romance from both sides of this romance, and those rarely end well, lol!

So yeah...it's painful :D

Thank you so much for the message! :)

[shadeswift99]

I am 1 minute into Hermitcraft Season 10 and it's already a shambles. Mumbo sounds like he's going to cry doing the intro, Xisuma fell into lava, the two new guys didn't even finish getting introduced, this is going to be a great season <3

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

FBI Agent x FBI Serial Killer Au

@fanofstuff01 @kittenfangirl20

Adam was so excited to start his first day with the FBI. He just graduated quanto and was ready to bring evil bastards to justice.

He signed in and got his ID. He went up and met with a woman named Charlie, she was very upbeat and happy. She reminds him of his sister Emily. She was the secretary there.

Charlie: Adam! Welcome, I'll get you introduced to your partner so that you can get right to it okay?

Adam: Alright let's do this.

She quickly showed him around as they went until they got to a door that had the name "Lucifer Morningstar" on it.

Charlie: Since you're new you'll be partnered with our best agent who also happens to be my father.

They went inside and sitting behind the desk was maybe the most handsome man Adam had ever laid eyes on. His face suddenly felt warm but he ignored it. It only got worse when Lucifer smiled at him.

Lucifer: Hey there! I'm special agent Morningstar, but you can call me Lucifer.

Adam: Special agent Kadmon, Adam though please.

They shook hands, Lucifer's grip was firm and warm.

[keklordkaotic]

Optimus having gay thoughts about Megatron and having an existential crisis on WHY of ALL MECHS did it have to be MEGATRON?

I think it would be funny lol

Thanks for the prompt dude! Your wish is my command.

The quotes in OP’s thought bubble are scraped from an English translation of the Masterpiece Megatron design notes.

If anyone else wants to send me art or writing prompts, I’m open to just about anything right now so long as I’m familiar with the subject or can otherwise pull up a reference for whatever it is.

[pratchettquotes]

'Look, I don't want to have to come in there and get you!' said Scattering with heartfelt accuracy.

Terry Pratchett, Unseen Academicals

[lenle-g]

I WANNA DRAW THE BOIS

@ Thundebirds peeps: send me an excerpt of something you're writing, and I'll do you a quick fan art for it. Bonus points if it's got Soft!Bros or hurt/comfort bc you all know that's my jam extra bonus points if I don't have to draw their uniforms but I will if i have to XD

[verefex]

Debating on doin a lil vrchat meetup tonight, maybe tomorrow night?

Been thinkin of starting something like this up for a while and I know there was some interest in it before, so we'll see. Will post here with a world link if so!

[constantcrisis19]

Bleeding Out - Part 1

Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN S/O

AN: I personally headcanon that Ghost has sociopathic traits, which is why he's a bit not good in this fic and I kinda see the dynamic between him and the reader being a "I hate everyone except you" type of deal. If that's your cup of tea (pun intended) then enjoy!

Main Page

Warnings: War, violence, bombs, blood and injury, very heavily implied suicidal intent.

Ghost carefully picked his way through the blackened rubble, avoiding the broken glass and tall flames that swayed in the warm breeze as he jogged by, steadily making his way back to where they’d set up base camp. 

The private that he had secured across his shoulders in a fireman's carry remained quiet despite how dizzy Ghost’s every step had to make him feel. The younger man was clearly concussed, the deep gash on his forehead dripping blood into his eyes and leaving a subtle trail behind them as Ghost walked. 

From what Ghost could put together from the private’s garbled attempt to explain what had happened, a chunk of concrete had been thrown by the explosion and had hit him directly in the middle of his forehead, knocking him out, which had probably saved his life. 

There were fairly blatant signs that other people had recently been in the area, as evidenced by the copious boot prints covering the fractured ground, so it was obvious that the enemy had assumed that he was dead during their initial sweep through the destruction for any survivors and had left him alone.

Others hadn’t been so lucky.

Ghost’s breaths were slow and even as his eyes scanned over the substantial damage around him, paying particular attention to the more sizable chunks of debris that were big enough for someone to hide behind.

The bomb that had gone off not twenty minutes ago had leveled almost the entire town, leaving behind only carnage. His gloves creaked as his hands tightened on his rifle, a feeling of dread sinking in his gut as he walked through what was essentially a graveyard.

They’d had two teams in the immediate blast range, one having accidentally come across the bomb, the leader only getting a short warning out over comms before a deafening explosion rocked the city. It wasn’t long after that that the gunfire had started, a frantic voice coming over the radio to warn the rest of the teams about the ambush.

Ghost recognized the voice as Bravo team’s leader, the very same group that you’d been assigned to.

Ghost felt something in his chest tighten when -after one last flurry of gunfire- everything had gone eerily quiet, the sound of static the only answer when he tried to get a hold of someone on Bravo team for a sitrep, the dead silence putting him more on edge than any gunshot or explosion ever could. 

"Bravo team, this is Karma in the blind, how copy?" Your voice suddenly broke through the white noise that had taken over the channel, weary and labored. “I repeat, this is Karma, does anyone copy?”

"I read you Karma, what’s your sitrep." Ghost spoke into the radio, pausing his determined march to let the private he had a hold of rest for a few precious minutes. Ghost didn’t feel relief at hearing your voice, that feeling of foreboding he had becoming stronger at how shaky you sounded.

"I got separated from the rest of Bravo team during the ambush and I'm running low on ammo. What's your position, maybe we could link up?" You asked, your breaths coming out heavy in between bouts of talking. It was abundantly clear that you were running on fumes and Ghost nearly shattered the plastic casing on his radio when his grip tightened.

He couldn’t abandon the injured private that he was carrying, no matter how badly he wanted to come to your aid, it was against protocol and wouldn’t be fair to the private.

“Negative.” He barked into the speaker, his helpless frustration making his tone sharp and angry. “I've got a private with me, WIA.” Ghost replied, and you both knew full well what that meant. 

He was heading out of the town in order to reach base camp, which meant that Ghost was traveling in the opposite direction of your position and wouldn’t be able to come back until the private was secured.

"Shit. How bad? Are they gonna make it?" You cursed over the line, but you didn’t sound angry or accusing, you just sounded worried. But not for yourself, all that concern in your voice being solely reserved for the random soldier that Ghost was hauling around, the very one that kept him from running to your side.

And that was just like you, wasn’t it? Painfully altruistic, even at your own expense.

He felt the inane urge to laugh -an angry, bitter sound- but he swallowed the horrible noise down because he knew that it wouldn’t make the shitty situation suddenly change to something a little more palatable. 

The sound of you loading a new mag into your gun sounded over the line, drawing Ghost’s attention back to you, before you spoke. “Ghost? You still with me?”

“Always.” Ghost replied as he began moving again, being careful not to jostle the private as he went, as if his extra caution could possibly make up for his overwhelming desire to just drop him to the ground and leave him for dead. 

If you were suspicious of Ghost for withholding the exact nature of the private’s injuries, you didn’t say, the only sound on comms for a moment being the subtle shift of clothing as you adjusted your position.

"I'll try to hold out as long as I can. Until then, stay frosty, Lt." You finally sighed through the radio, breaking the loaded silence that had descended over the two of you. 

"I'll keep the radio on me. Don't let your guard down." Ghost ordered grimly before the radio clicked off, allowing him to turn his focus back to his surroundings and the person he was carrying as he picked up his pace, returning to the light jog he was at before you’d contacted him. 

He was about ten minutes out from his intended destination when the familiar sound of distant gunfire rang out, the echoing crack of gunshots continuing on for a few minutes before abruptly cutting out, that knot in his chest seizing until he felt his breathing became labored. 

The image of your bleeding, broken body flitted through his mind's eye, taking inspiration from the various gorey scenes from all of Ghost’s missions that he had filed away in the back of his mind, making each new image his memory conjured up worse than the one before.

He could just begin to make out the perimeter of camp when Ghost's radio came to life, white noise filling the oppressive quiet, the soft static somehow more ominous than the previous silence.

Ghost freed one of his hands and snatched up the radio on his shoulder all without once breaking his stride. “This is Ghost, how copy.” 

"Fuck, Ghost. It’s not looking good.” You breathed shakily over the line and Ghost immediately picked up on your distress, cataloging every tiny scrap of information he could glean from just your voice as he ran across the last few meters separating him from the medical tent.

He wondered if you were aware of the small, almost inaudible sounds of pain you were making with every careful breath.

“Head wound, severe concussion.” Ghost barked at the medic that tried to protest against him depositing his cargo onto one of the first empty cots he came across while aggressively pointing at the barely conscious private, watching as the medic took a step away from him at his curt tone, eyes wide as they warily watched him.

He turned his back on the medic and the private he’d hauled to safety, stalking back out of medical. He ignored the painful-looking double takes that the soldiers milling about shot his way as they scrambled out of his warpath. 

He didn’t care about the looks he was getting or that he was making people nervous; his skin felt too tight -like an ill fitting suit- and it made him feel unstable… inhuman.

“Sitrep, now.” Ghost growled at you as he stalked over to the tent where they had set up a supply cache, loading up on grenades, ammo, knives and anything else that he thought would be useful in case he got cornered at any point during his journey. 

“I got pinned down by enemy fire and had to shoot my way out. A lucky bullet took a fucking chunk out of my thigh. I can’t move and I'm pretty sure our little confrontation signaled my position to everything unfriendly within a five mile radius." There was a moment of silence before you continued with a rueful laugh. “And I've only got eight bullets left. What a fucking shit show." You muttered the last bit to yourself, snapping your mag back into place.

"What other weapons do you have?" Ghost asked, already mentally running through several different strategies and contingencies for every plan he came up with as he double checked his gear before marching back out of the tent. 

"A couple knives and two grenades. Though I was saving the explosives for if I was surrounded with no way out. I figured that I could at least take a number of the enemy with me if push comes to shove." There was a tense pause before you audibly swallowed. “I’m not going to let them take me.” You added with a grim determination, more than prepared to use the grenades to keep that exact thing from happening.

"Give me your location." Ghost demanded, his voice low and dangerous as he passed one of the pairs who were assigned with patrolling the perimeter of camp, neither woman daring to stop him.

“Negative, sir.” You responded without hesitation, your bold refusal to comply with a direct order bringing him up short, his dark eyes narrowing as he glowered into the middle distance, watching the plumes of dark smoke from the destroyed town rise up into the sky.

“Private-” Ghost began, his voice holding a thinly veiled threat, but his warning was cut short when you spoke again.

“I'm in the middle of enemy territory. This place is crawling with hostiles, there’s no way-” 

“That changes nothing.” Ghost shouted to be heard over your useless protests, his chest heaving as the radio in his hand creaked threateningly in his fierce grip. 

“It changes everything, Simon! Coming after me at this point is suicide!” You raised your own voice as much as you dared in response to his outburst, still aware of the danger posed by potential enemies in the area, and the uncontrollable anger wound tighter in his chest at the mere implication that he should leave you, his closest friend -someone he couldn’t bare the thought of losing- behind to die.

“The way I see it, you can either give me your location now or I can wander around the warzone until I find you.” Ghost was forced to stop and focus on his ragged breathing in order to rein in his fury when the darkness roiling just beneath his skin bled into his voice. And, once he felt more in control, he continued, his voice ice cold. “Though I feel inclined to warn you that, if you refuse me again, I’m going to make you regret not following a direct order and, mark my words, I will find you.”

There was a long moment that seemed to stretch on for hours, though it had to have been only a few minutes, where all Ghost heard was your breathing. He closed his eyes for a couple, calming seconds and focused on the rhythmic sound as he stared out at the wreckage, using it to ground him as he waited for your reply. 

Though, it honestly didn’t matter what you decided in the end because he was coming after you either way, a location would just make his trek to you that much faster.

"I'm holed up in what I'm pretty sure used to be a gas station on the south side of the town." You begrudgingly replied, every syllable that dripped from your lips laced with fury at Ghost basically forcing your hand. 

“Copy, hold your position” Ghost ordered, his eyes snapping back open before he impatiently input the coordinates you followed up with into his GPS device, letting it load the map before he spoke into the radio. “I’m twenty mikes out.” He gave you a moment to process the information, standing there until he realized that he was wasting the already very little time he still had to get you to.

"And if anything- if I don’t-" Ghost cut himself off as he began to make his way back into the rubble, various scenarios playing out in his head. You bleeding out all alone or -even worse- being found by the enemy and promptly executed, your precious, beautiful mind splattered all over the uneven ground as you stared sightlessly up at the smog-filled sky.

If he let himself think about it for too long, he began to quickly unravel, so he bottled up every emotion except for the ones that would be useful to him as he gave his rifle and gear one last through check.

"Use your grenades if I don't make it.” He finally settled on, his tone grim.

"Affirmative, sir."

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hello, quick PSA:

If you reblog or interact with these people I'm going to block you, I'm fresh out of fucks to give.

For anyone wondering, here is the post, I merely factored in what Lestat's background is, and if they had any reading comprehension besides the willfully bad interpretation they would know that But hey.

This is fair warning.

As I said, I'm fresh out of fucks to give.

Because it is not just the way they interpret me, it is also the way they talk about others. It is always with insults, and accusations. I really don't want to see people on my TL who think that's a good way to interact. Call me old fashioned if you will, but this is no way to interact. And I call that very, very low.

[justsigma-bsd]

Sigmaaaaaaa can I yap?

-Mylo

"Sure"

[strayheartless]

Cloud wakes up one morning in Edge, and everything is normal...but he feels like someone something is missing. He's used to it, his memory is shit these days, whatever.

Squall wakes up one morning, in his queen sized bed, all alone. Huh, that's unusual totally normal, like he gives a shit.

Neither of them realize time and space warped them into the same world for 10 years, where they got together, then warped them out and erased them from each other's memories and worlds.

😈

I know I asked for this but HECKIN’ OWWWWWWWWWWWW.

***

Denzel is pretty used to Cloud taking a second to recognise him in the morning. Tifa and Marlene say it happens sometimes, and he’s lived with them long enough now to know that it’s not personal. Still, this morning seems particularly bad.

Cloud is staring at him perplexed across the breakfast table, ignoring his own toast. He blinks hard a couple of times, then shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut tighter. He looks upset by something, maybe even a little confused.

“Cloud, is everything okay?” Tifa asks from the sink and Cloud opens his eyes breathing deeply.

“Yeah,” he mutters, reaching out to push Denzel’s bangs out of his eyes.

“Has your hair gotten lighter?” He asks and Denzel makes a confused sound.

“I don’t think so,” he says.

Cloud pulls his hand back, letting the hair flop back into place and Scrubs at his face, frustrated.

“Hey,” Tifa rounds the table and kneels next to his chair. “You sure your okay? You look spooked,”

Cloud let his head hang for a second, gripping at his own neck so hard that Tifa reaches out to extract his nails from his nape.

“I- I feel like I’m missing something. Like someone should be here and they’re not. But I can’t tell who,”

“Marlene?” Zel guesses but Cloud shakes his head.

“Were you dreaming about Zack and Aerith again?” Was Tifa’s guess.

“Not that I can remember,” Cloud shakes his head again and lets Tifa take over massaging his neck.

They were all familiar with Clouds spotty memory. Sometimes he forgot Aerith was dead. Sometimes he would wake up and insist that he had to go meet Zack at some hole in the wall pizza joint that hadn’t existed since Meteor fall. On really bad days he didn’t talk, just stared at everyone like he didn’t know who they were. Like he was completely vacant.

“Do you want me to call your Clients for today and postpone deliveries?”

“No,” Cloudbutted his head against Tifa’s shoulder, something he’d taken to doing as a sign of affection when his words were failing him.

She ruffled the back of his hair and let him get on his way.

There weren’t many deliveries that day anyway. His first was Cid and as he walked into the shop he almost dropped the box at the sight of Shera. He doesn’t know why, but he hadn’t expected her to be there. The Workshop looked wrong too. Had Cid painted the hill of the Gum- airship? Cloud tsked. He liked the red better.

“Hey kid, Y’alright?” Cloud jumps again. He swings round to see Cid squinting at him from behind his shouldering goggles.

“Yeah,” he not-quite-lies. “Just having an off day… feel like I’ve lost something. Don’t know what,”

Cid snorts.

“That’s called getting old son,”

“That’s called almost drowning in Mako twice chief,” Cloud bites back, but there’s no real heat to it.

“Yeah yeah, you’re a walk-in’ talking’ miracle. I got it,” he hands Cloud the cash for delivery and Cloud pockets it without checking. Even if it wasn’t all there, he knew Cid was good for it. Even if he wasn’t Cloud would let him off. He always did for friends.

“You got many more o’these?” Cid asked, sucking on the end of his cigarette. Cloud thought it was a tooth pick… weird.

“Couple. Headed out to Kalm next.”

“Well you be careful, it’s gettin’ Squally out there,”

Cloud freezes. The image of a face burns itself into the forefront of his mind. A hand holding his that just a touch bigger. A body in his bed that he knows is going to start out on the other side of the bed, but will inevitably Koala itself to his back. A dumb jacket with an even dumber white fur collar. A slim set of hips adorned with far too many belts to be practical. A Gunblade. A scar across the bridge of a wonderfully sloped nose. A set of warm Hazelnut eyes.

Squall.

Clouds knees give out, hitting the tiled floor with a horrific crack.

He Screams at the sky.

****

“Can I help you Quistis?” Squall grumbles as he flips through the mornings reports. She’s been stood in his office too long and if she keeps staring at him like that he’s going to end up growsing something he regrets.

Fuck, his head is pounding.

“You seem off today.” She says like it’s an off hand comment. Squall resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“Didn’t sleep well.” He mutters, scribbling his signature at the bottom of a page. The next set of papers is about refurbishments to the western corridors. He massages between his eyes with the knuckle of his pointer finger.

Hadn’t they done that at the beginning of last year? Sora had talked his ear off about it being too much of a rabbit warr-

Who?

Squall blinks. Who the hell was Sora?

“Are you sure that’s all it is? Rinoa says you’ve been pretty in and out all day,”

“And I suppose Rinoa is the foremost authority on my moods,” it’s a unnecessary bite, one that he doesn’t even know the reason for. His wife is absolutely the authority on his mood swings. She’s generally the only one that can handle them.

No she isn’t.

Squall puts his pen down and places his head in his hands. His headache felt like someone was drilling into his eyes and temple. He just wants today to be over. He wants to go back home to C-

To Rinoa.

Quistis looks at him for a second, before seemingly deciding it’s not worth arguing with him. Instead she waits for him to finish signing papers while she looks out of his office window.

“Sure is Cloudy today,”

There’s a crash from behind her and as she spins around she finds Squall on his hands and knees on the carpet heaving up the pasty and Coffee she’d brought him. He’s sobbing hysterically as his mind faces a million miles a second and his head feels like it’s going to explode with the pressure of the memories.

A hand a little smaller than his, that was calloused and almost always covered in motor oil. A tiny waist that was just right for wrapping his arms around in the early mornings and late nights. Broad shoulders clad in paldrons. A wold at his heart. A wolf in his ear. The most dazzlingly blue eyes Squall has event seen. Bright blond hair. A stupidly large sword wrapped in bandages so he “didn’t hurt the kid”. A scarred sternum and torso under his hand.

Cloud.

Squall passed out from the pain.

[bayareabadboy]

On this day in 1981, Van Halen released ‘Fair Warning.

[sunsetdesire]

whenever i see girlbulge, i start panting like a dog and imagine shoving my face between their plush cheeks, salivating over their clothed body, and worshipping them through the fabric until they're dripping for me

[kg-clark-inthedark]

For @dhkinktober2024 Week 2 - Fighting/Wrestling (and added in one of the extra themes, Choking)

Relationship: Corvo Attano/Daud

Words: 4,723

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Summary:

It's been 2 years since Corvo’s world fell apart. His wound has yet to close, mirrored by that which he carved into Dunwall itself. But despite all the bloodshed, the assassin who started it all was spared his wrath. Daud has been haunted by that fateful decision ever since, so one rainy night he waits in the dark for Corvo, content to accept whatever punishment comes his way as long as he gets to ask why. Little does he know, that’s the last question Corvo wants to hear.

(In which Corvo gives Daud the angriest handjob of all time.)

Excerpt: (below the cut)

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” I dismiss, as if I would even have one to offer if I were willing. Daud frowns, fervor glinting in his eyes against what tiny slivers of streetlamp light find their way to us from the main roads.

“Please." His pleading catches me off guard. Why does this matter so much to him? "I need to know. Why was I spared your punishment?”

“Is that what you want from me? Punishment?” I rebuke. I’m not expecting the way Daud’s face drops in stunned silence. He looks horrified, as though I’ve uncovered a grave secret. I add, “Don’t tell me you’re here out of guilt.”

I can’t stand the look he’s giving me. I need him to be a villain. I need him to remain the cold-eyed monster he was that day. Instead I’m faced only with sympathy wrought in the shadows of his repugnant face.

“Attano, I’m sor-”

Daud is interrupted by the shock of my fist’s blow into his mouth. I hit him as hard as I can and it rings through the rest of his body, his head snapping back unnaturally at the impact. So rarely do I engage in hand to hand, usually opting to stealthily go straight for the kill, I’d almost forgotten how good this feels. Daud staggers back a step or two and wipes his lips, a bright line of blood staining the side of his leather glove.

“I didn’t come here to fight you, bodyguard,” Daud drawls in his gravelly tone. Yet his hands say otherwise as he raises his arms to a defensive stance, fists at the level of his head. Good.