#fanny would faint

[csainzsgirly]

Winter Morning Motivation - [Charles Leclerc]

Gifcredit to @/yesloulou

A/N: a lil smut for ya, because Charles’ new vlog just caused fanny flutters all around, let's be honest. I noticed he said something that he didn’t always have the motivation to go to his training, but eventually he goes and finds the motivation, so why not start the day with some extra motivation?

WARNINGS: 18+ content, smut, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving).

It was still dark outside when Charles’ alarm rung, making him grunt as he rolled around in the warm cocoon of sheets in the soft bed, pressing his fingers onto the device to shut it off. The faint streetlights of Val Gardena slightly shone through the thin curtains that were closed in front of the window, causing you to be able to see your boyfriends face and his features when you turned around too. Charles didn’t let any words slip out of his mouth as he rubbed his tired face, feeling drowsy from the deep slumber, his muscles still burning everywhere in his body, with every move he made. Charles folded his arms behind his head, convincing himself to take just five more minutes before Andrea would drag him out into the snow again. He felt your head moving onto his chest, your hand following and delicately placing on his chest, rubbing the smooth skin under your fingertips. He felt sorry for waking you up every morning, but you didn’t mind. You were happy to spend the winter break with him, even if he was out for training the whole day.

“Don’t you need to go?” you hum, your eyes were closed again already, feeling his arm curling around you, his hand briefly caressing your cheek before it start to glide up and down your spine. “I do,” Charles chuckles. “But I have enough time,” he adds. Silence filled the room again, and you absently continued to draw patterns on his skin. His muscles had become more defined after just a week of the hard work he had been putting in the gym. Charles’ abdomen contracted under your touch, goosebumps rising on his skin. Your nails tickled his skin a little, but he didn’t mind. You listened to his steady heartbeat, your fingertips meanwhile finding the smooth v-lines and the waistband of his sweats. A soft chuckle moved past his lips, sensitive to your touch as he sucked in his stomach. You smiled a little, not stopping to trace the cotton that was hanging low on his hips. Charles felt the blood flowing south, doing no attempt to stop you or tell you he needed to go. You listened to his breathing pattern, noticing how his breaths got shorter, less deep when your hand moved under the fabric, coming in contact with the veiny skin of his cock.

Charles’ jaw clenched as your palm closed around him, dragging your hand from the base to the tip till it was fully hard. His voice was still raspy as he moaned lowly, his eyes falling closed as his eyebrows knitted together. His hand curled around the material of the sheets, squeezing it in his fist when you continued to jerk him, twisting your wrist at the top before going back down, spreading the oozing drops of precum. You could perfectly imagine what his dick looked like under the sheets now, fully erect, the blushing red tip, veins prominent. You could only see the movements of your hand under the duvet, and anyone could guess what you were doing. Charles’ hand slipping into your hair at the back of your neck caught you off guard, causing the movements of your hand to falter as you looked up at him in the dim lit room. His lips crashed down on yours in a firm kiss, the warmth of his lips against yours sending a shockwave through your body. You felt him moving next to you, propping up on his elbows before his weight atop of you pushed you down onto your back, legs opening automatically to let him rest his body there.

A soft whine elicits from your mouth as you feel his cock against you, his hands slipping under the shirt you wore to bed, palms finding your tits and squeezing them, thumbs rolling over your nipples. Charles’ mouth barely left yours, claiming your lips over and over again before his tongue ran over your lips, invading your mouth with a passion you hadn’t felt earlier this week. He had been tired, too tired for sex after his training, causing this moment to excite you even more. Heat pooled between your thighs, your panties becoming damp as Charles kept rutting his hips into yours. He rode the shirt up, exposing your tits to his eyes that had adjusted to the darkness. You threw it over your head, fingers curling into his hair as he kissed down your neck, teeth grazing the swell of your tits before he rolled his fingers over your nipples again, wondering how he could have denied the beauty of his woman several nights before. Determined to make it up to you, he kissed further down your body, fingers hooking into your panties and dragging them down your legs, wasting no time in pressing his mouth to your thighs, kissing the skin, sucking his marks on them, on the most intimate spots of your body.

The cold air outside the cocoon of sheets reached your body as you pushed them aside, a cool gush of air against your pussy making you gasp already, followed by his delicate mouth covering your clit. “Oh, Charles,” the sigh you let out in combination with your fingers in his hair pushing his head deeper between your legs caused his heartbeat to accelerate. His tongue lapped at your pussy, thick stripes licked up from your hole to your clit, sucking the little nub of nerve endings into his mouth and swirling the muscle over it. The obscene sounds of your soft moans and heavy breaths with the wet, squelching noises started to fill the room in the early morning, and he could get drunk of it right now. Your noises continued to praise him, making him grunt lowly against your pussy. Your head fell back in the way his wet tongue glided over your clit, making you clench around thin air. “Fuck, I’m gonna- fuck,” you didn’t manage to form a full sentence before you came, hot and heavy, writhing and curling under him in the deliciousness of the orgasm he just gave you. Charles was pulsing, swallowing hard at the thought of your warm pussy around him right now. You could taste yourself on his lips as he hovered over you and captured your lips between his.

One of his hands between your bodies guided his cock to your pussy, the tip pressing against your hole already had you squirming a little. “Putain,” he cursed under his breath as he slid home, fully filling you, stretching you out. Thoughts of him being late, concerned you’d be the reason he would show up later than Andrea asked him to, left your mind as Charles started thrusting into you, dragging his cock so heavenly against the walls of your pussy. Your legs wrapped around his hips, your fingers curling around his biceps to find some leverage. You weren’t able to stop moaning as he fucked you deeper into the mattress, the headboard of the bed starting to knock against the wall, a cry of his name leaving your throat as the tip of his cock grazed your g-spot. Charles got lost in how good your pussy felt, the warmth of your body against his, your tits pressed up against his chest as your back arched off the bed. He wanted to kiss you once more, but he was panting a little, swallowing your moans. Charles felt his body tensing in the best way possible, the fiery ache in his muscles in some way relieved. Your nails dug into his skin, one of your hands shifting to his back, dragging them down his skin, his name alongside some profanity leaving your mouth.

“That’s it, baby, right there,” you moan, begging him to thrust in the same angle. Charles slows down his pace a little, making sure he does so, chasing your orgasm as you clench around him, your beautiful sounds becoming higher pitched the closer you get. The mere brush of his fingertips over your clit has you falling so deep, the warmth and wetness of your pussy around him sending him over the edge too. Charles groans as you convulse so deliciously around him as he cums, his cum seeping inside you. He rests his forehead against yours, lazily thrusting through your orgasms. Your arms wrap around his neck again, sleepiness filling you again after the endorphins filled your veins. “You need to go,” you hummed, even though you didn’t do any effort to untangle your limbs from his body. “I know,” Charles grunted in protest, lifting his head to take a look at the time on his phone. “Do you think Andrea will let me skip the first hour because I already did my cardio?” Charles asked, switching on one of the bedside lights to look into your eyes properly. You covered your eyes with your arm, shaking your head with a chuckle. “Probably not,” you say, reaching out to trace his fine features, the muscles on his arms. Charles finally managed to push himself up and get out of his bed.

He was quick to slip into some clothes, and you gladly watched the way his back muscles rippled as he put on a shirt, tucking it into the ski pants he slipped into. You, meanwhile, curled up in the middle of the bed, ready for a couple of hours of more sleep while he went out. Charles pushed a beanie over his head to cover his messy hair, but he was sure his slightly red, glowing face would betray everything about the workout he had before his day started. He kissed you before he left, taking his backpack with him to meet his friends and trainer in the lobby. “Good morning,” Charles greeted them, and Joris grinned at his friend, nudging his side.

[arjudy224]

Cobblepot's Cabana

Summary: Working for Oswald Cobblepot has its perks. Mr. Cobblepot always gives out Christmas and summer bonuses, you get excellent health insurance... However, working at a pool owned by one of Batman rogues can put you at odds with the Caped Crusader himself. One day, the Riddler and Killer Croc team up to defeat Batman. This team endeavor doesn't work out the way they expected.

Lifeguard POV:

There wasn’t any mention of how to handle situations like this during the certification. Teenage boys doing back flips into the shallow end? Yes. Nose bleeds? Of course. Clocking into work to find the Gotham knight fighting not one, but two of his rogues on the pool deck? Absolutely not. Nothing could have prepared me to witness the all out brawl that was occurring during my shift. Or the fact that Killer Croc’s tail defensively slapped the Riddler, Batman, and Robin into the pool. Tyler hands me the lifeguard tube with a sly smile.

“Good luck with that. I’m going to go pee.”

If I wasn’t so concerned for the teenage vigilante getting his face pushed underwater by a crocodile, that would have been incredibly annoying.

Staring at the drowning quartet, I am faced with a dilemma.

Do I get paid enough for this? (No)

Would interrupting the feud end with my imminent death? (Probably)

Poor Eddie Nygma flails desperately against the waves made by Killer Croc and Batman wrestling. For such an intelligent guy, one would have assumed he would at least know how to doggy paddle... One would be wrong. Every time the man, known to the rest of the world as the Riddler, touches the water... He sinks. It's honestly impressive how quickly he can reach the bottom of the pool. His panicked green eyes cause my heart to swell.

Dammit... Fine.

Within moments, I plunge into the icy water. Of course today of all days Cobblepot would turn the temperature down for dramatic effect. Fighting against Killer Croc's waves, I lunge for Eddie first. Avoiding his panicked limbs, I shove the buoy flush against his chest. Eddie clings onto the life preserver with a grateful gaze as I meet a face full of salt water.

My eyes burn from the impact. Resurfacing a few feet away, the vigilante/ crocodilian brawl somehow managed to turn on the manual waves. I watch in disbelief as Eddie gets pulled in their direction. His feverishly pale skin and blue lips chill me to my core.

"Oh.. No you don't!" I gasp struggling against the current. Another wave pushes me under. Stay calm. You've done this before. Opening my eyes, my heart stops when I register what I am face to face with.

Void like black eyes stare emotionless in my direction. With skin so grey and smooth, I'm almost tempted to run my hand across. However, the hundreds of sharp teeth keep me at bay. There's a shark in the pool, King Shark, to be exact... and he's not happy about the wrestling match going on above. Typical Gotham. Funny enough, I checked the attendance log this morning. Nanaue canceled his membership months ago, but that's none of my business.

From the corner of my eye, I vaguely make out the faint outline of the drowning boy wonder. The kid’s head is above water for now, but the heavy plated Robin suit cannot be easy to swim in.

Sometimes, King Shark confuses the lifeguards for poolside snacks. Easy mistake really. Cobblepot had warned us previously of the last guard who got eaten. Unzipping my fanny pack, I fumble for my saving grace: a small tuna packet from my morning lunch. Offering it to the shark, I await his response. That must have been the right move because a smile emerges with hundreds of teeth barring all at once.

Pressure and panic spreads throughout my body from the lack of oxygen. Crawling to the surface, my lungs gasp for air while I assess the current situation. Eddie's conscious, yet even with the raft his lips are still tinged with blue from his underwater adventure. Robin's fighting with less vigor than before. He doesn't have much time. Killer Croc is in his element. And Batman? Well, like any Florida man wrestling with their local wildlife: he's doing his best. His sluggish movements are showing how much the cape and his weaponry are weighing him down.

Considering my options, I make the dumbest split second decision of my life: I ask for help. Diving under the oncoming waves, I gesture towards King Shark with as much pleading as I can muster. I don't speak Shark, but I motion to my fanny back to insinuate their would be more fish ahead. Nananue slowly nods his head before circling the water around me.

For a second, I think my life is over. Maybe my parents were right to throw a fit when I announced my acceptance into Gotham U. I'm sure Metropolis Lifeguards’ don't have to make bargains with their local trespassing aquatic life.

To my relief, King Shark doesn't bite my head off. With an impatient shimmy, he waits for me to hold on. I shrug before crawling on his back. We cut through the waves with such ease that I find myself in awe of the cartilaginous fish. If I swam like that, I would bum off Oswald Cobblepot too. The Riddler and his life raft tug loosely behind due to the harness around my waist.

Checking my watch, I frown.

Tyler was supposed to take me off stand ten minutes ago. That bastard. From the empty pool deck, I bet he left work early again... for the 3rd time this week.

Speeding past the giant iceberg in the center of the pool, King Shark reluctantly slows down once we near the frail looking teenager. Before I can hoist the kid up, Nananue eyes the young boy with interest.

"Don't even think about it. If you eat Robin, I have to explain to Cobblepot how you've been staying here for months without paying for a membership."

With an exaggerated sigh, the Shark man allows me to hull the kid half way out of the water. Somehow, Robins mask managed to stay on during the kerfuffle. His wet black hair sticks to his forehead. He's got a pulse. He's breathing. Reaching the pool deck, Robin’s limp form is proving ridiculously lofty to move.

Across the pool deck, Batman somehow managed to tranquilize Killer Croc. His damp armor makes a hilarious ~squish~ noise with every step. Eddie sprawls on his back muttering something I assume to be riddle associated. Robin's starting to regain color.

Thank goodness, I didn't have to do CPR; I do not want to be the one responsible for breaking the Boy Wonders ribs.

One eye flutters open, then the other. The intensity of his blue eyes catches me off guard.

"Instead of saving my life," He rasps with a mischievous grin, "Can you save my phone number?"

Very original.

I briefly consider shoving him back into the pool. If I hadn't spent the last 20 minutes trying to save his life, I would have. Instead of responding, I make eye contact with his Guardian.

"I'm going to need to ask you two to leave." I elaborate gesturing to my watch, "The pool closes at 9."

[bethanydelleman]

All the People* who Wield Umbrellas in Jane Austen's novels and What it Means:

Dr. Grant, kindly asking Fanny to step into the house during a rainstorm

Fanny, having been sent into the village on some errand by her aunt Norris, was overtaken by a heavy shower close to the Parsonage; and being descried from one of the windows endeavouring to find shelter under the branches and lingering leaves of an oak just beyond their premises, was forced, though not without some modest reluctance on her part, to come in. A civil servant she had withstood; but when Dr. Grant himself went out with an umbrella, there was nothing to be done but to be very much ashamed, and to get into the house as fast as possible, Mansfield Park

Mr. Weston, kindly (perhaps with motive), getting an umbrella for Miss Taylor and Emma:

Robert Martin, most likely was holding an umbrella for his sisters, then kindly warns Harriet that a path is washed out:

“Ever since the day—about four years ago—that Miss Taylor and I met with him in Broadway Lane, when, because it began to drizzle, he darted away with so much gallantry, and borrowed two umbrellas for us from Farmer Mitchell’s, I made up my mind on the subject. I planned the match from that hour; and when such success has blessed me in this instance, dear papa, you cannot think that I shall leave off match-making.” Emma

Frank Churchill, trying to protect his secret fiancé from the rain:

“And so, there she had set, without an idea of any thing in the world, full ten minutes, perhaps—when, all of a sudden, who should come in—to be sure it was so very odd!—but they always dealt at Ford’s—who should come in, but Elizabeth Martin and her brother!—Dear Miss Woodhouse! only think. I thought I should have fainted. I did not know what to do. I was sitting near the door—Elizabeth saw me directly; but he did not; he was busy with the umbrella. I am sure she saw me, but she looked away directly, and took no notice; and they both went to quite the farther end of the shop; and I kept sitting near the door! Emma

Admiral Croft, making sure Anne can grab an umbrella:

In a few minutes the carriage returned.—Somebody talked of rain.—“I will see that there are umbrellas, sir,” said Frank to his father: ��Miss Bates must not be forgotten:” and away he went. Emma

And lastly, Captain Wentworth, offering an umbrella to Anne (Mr. Elliot does not have one, we shall note):

“Well, whenever it suits you. You can slip in from the shrubbery at any time; and there you will find we keep our umbrellas hanging up by that door. A good place is not it? But,” (checking himself), “you will not think it a good place, for yours were always kept in the butler’s room. Ay, so it always is, I believe. One man’s ways may be as good as another’s, but we all like our own best. And so you must judge for yourself, whether it would be better for you to go about the house or not.” Persuasion

Umbrellas in Jane Austen are symbols of love and kindness. Always wielded by men. They provide shelter. A good man carries an umbrella, but not for himself.

After a moment’s pause he said: “Though I came only yesterday, I have equipped myself properly for Bath already, you see,” (pointing to a new umbrella); “I wish you would make use of it, if you are determined to walk; though I think it would be more prudent to let me get you a chair.” Persuasion

*Northanger Abbey's counting of umbrellas to see if it is raining does not count, as the people are unknown

[bobfloydsbabe]

dirty mind | eccentric professor!bob floyd x oc

a gold rush fic

SUMMARY: Imogen learns something new about Professor Bob.

WARNINGS: suggestive language, allusions to smut, age gap (mid 20s/late 30s), power imbalance. strictly 18+/minors dni

WORD COUNT: ~ 1k

PROFESSOR BOB MASTERLIST

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SPECIAL THANKS to @ryebecca who sent this delicious prompt. It took on a life of its own, so I hope it's okay that I posted it separately. Your love for Eccentric Professor Bob is one of my favorite things about working on this AU, and I know I can always talk to you about him. You see and understand the vision. Enjoy ✨

She runs her fingers along the book spines in his home office, so much more neatly organized than the ones on campus. She’s impressed.

“What are you doing?”

She glances over her shoulder and finds the professor leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed in front of him. Behind him, the house is dark and quiet. Only a faint beam of moonlight hits the wall near the staircase.

Smiling to herself, she refocuses her attention on the books. “Browsing.”

Illuminated by the lamp on his desk, she can make out several titles that she knows and loves. Fiction mixed with historical texts, old dissertations from former students that send a pang of jealousy through her, and a small section of books he’s written himself.

His footsteps sound behind her as he draws nearer. “It’s not a bookstore,” he tells her, voice still rough from sleep. “Or a library.”

Casting another glance over her shoulder, he’s now leaning against his desk, watching her. He’s only wearing boxers, and the lamplight makes his chest look even broader and more defined.

“I know. No bookstore or library would be caught dead with disorganized shelves like these.”

“They’re organized,” he argues, but she hears the lilt of teasing in his tone.

“Method to the madness,” she agrees for the sake of peace. “If it makes sense to y–no way!”

Through his rumbling chuckle, she pulls the book out and opens to the title page.

She spins around to face him so fast she feels a little dizzy and Bob has to reach out to stabilize her. “You okay?”

“Am I okay? You have a first edition of Fanny Hill. Of course I’m not okay.”

She holds the fragile book in her hands, flipping through the pages as gently as she can, so she won’t damage it further. It’s from 1748 after all, and she tries not to judge him for not storing it properly. As a history professor who works with texts even older than this, he should know better.

“Must’ve cost you a fortune,” she mutters to herself, turning to the bookcase again to put it back, only for her eye to catch sight of another familiar title. “Is Lady Chatterley’s Lover also a first edition?”

“I believe so.”

She scans the entire shelf and finds only novels in a similar genre, and she suddenly feels hot all over at the knowledge that he’s read these books and enjoyed them enough to get first editions.

As if sensing the change in the atmosphere, Bob comes up behind her, chest flush with her back. Sweeping her hair to the side, his fingertips graze her skin. He leans down and places the lightest kiss to her neck, and a shiver runs down her spine, breath hitching at the sensation.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

His hand travels down her body. The dip of her waist, the width of her hips, and the bare skin of her thighs. Her whole body’s on fire. He’s everywhere, low voice stirring something deep inside her.

As his hand trails up her skin, he inches toward her inner thighs where she’s sensitive and the wet patch in her panties should embarrass her, but it doesn’t.

“Tell me,” he whispers, breath tickling her ear.

She stifles the whine rising in her throat, willing it away. “Who knew you were hiding such a dirty mind.”

He chuckles against her skin, and his hand reaches the edge of her panties. “Baby,” he whispers, “I’m hiding so much more than a dirty mind.”

His other hand presses against her stomach, pushing her against him and his hard chest. She tries to rub her thighs together, but his hand there keeps them open. His fingers skim across her clothed clit, making her squirm in his embrace.

“Oh, you’re desperate for it, aren’t you, baby?”

She wants to say no. She wants to tell him to fuck off, try to convince him she’s playing a game, and he can’t reduce her to a stuttering mess with just a few words and touches. But she doesn’t. She can’t. Not when she can feel his growing desire against her back, and not when he pushes her panties to the side, drawing slow, torturous circles on her clit.

“In your dreams,” she manages, but it comes out airy and needy.

He pulls his hand away from her aching pussy, and the high-pitched whine that leaves her throat seems to shock them both. He recovers quickly, spinning her around to face him, his features half illuminated by the lamp on his desk.

“You’re always in my dreams,” he tells her, walking her backward until he’s crowded her against the bookshelf. “And in my dreams, you’re always desperate for me, for my mouth.”

He’s sinking to his knees, and one hand trails down her leg, placing it over his shoulder. He glances up at her, a cocky look on his face as his fingers hook into the waistband of her panties. “You want me, baby?”

She nods furiously, unable to form the words when he’s right there, so close to where she wants him. Needs him.

“Tell me,” he demands, voice dark and dangerous.

“I want you.” She’s trying to hold on to some semblance of self-control, but she’s babbling. “I want your mouth.”

“Good girl,” he praises, and then he pushes her panties to the side again.

His lips close around her clit, sending her into orbit.

likes are nice, but comments and reblogs are golden

TAGLIST: @joaquinwhorres, @kmc1989, @roosterforme, @just-in-case-iloveyou, @rosie-posie08, @attapullman, @sweetwhispersofchaos, @millieb-3199, @auroraseddie, @keyrani, @solo-pitstop-vibes, @hangmandruigandmav, @cremebruleequeen, @cherrycola27, @seitmai, @bradshawsbaby, @sio-ina-bottle, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @bcarolinablr, @bluezraven

[daughterofbearsandrivers]

Horror | 1.0 `yautja`

(<<) (>>)

Vague imagery of honey dipped college memories suddenly tainted with screaming and the indescribable sensation of hearing literal bodies being torn into pieces. The cracking of ribs so each bone snapped from the sheer pressure, flesh squished together as blood vessels burst and spewed out geysers of blood mixed in with their bodily fluids. The stomach lining, organs, soft fleshy innards not covered by bone was consumed like hard liquor on Saturday club night.

Being hit by a car or shanked for belongings in parking lot would've been considered a calculated mercy or bittersweet memory compared to the last moments of the town's population in the past forty-eight hours.

The faint scent of gasoline tingled her nostrils, sending a very faint high to her brain like the chemicals in the pools does. Resisting the urge to cough to flex the muscles of her body in the cramped space of the trunk, the female waited several moments in silence for the slightest shifting of movement or prowling seekers looking to harvest on the strength inept species. Feeling around for the latch on the backseat, bright midday sun poured in through the opening, she inched it forward as she paused every second or so.

'Goddamn it's bright.'

She noticed the torn edges of her emerald painted nails once she fully leaned the seat forward, stringy grime matted locks absorbed the rising heat in the car. Glints of other vehicles windshields momentarily made blackish spots float in her vision, she opened a water bottle once she slid herself out of the car's trunk. The milk spoiled, eggs overheated and bread crusty.

'Good morning America, today's going to be sunny clear skies, maybe chance of rain showers, highs in the whatever seventies and lows- oh shitzerdoodle.'

Leaning on her side to stay within the cover of the car's seat position, she peeked around the edges of the leathery seat, seeing a black mass creep by the front of the vehicle. Ducking down though avoiding on moving her weight around too much, the female stayed in that awkwardly tense angle until she heard it bash through a boutique's doorway a street down.

Sorting through the groceries, she salvaged whatever wasn't affected by the mid summer day heat. Collecting granola bars, a flashlight, screwdriver and some bullets, she found scattered underneath the driver's seat, into a fanny pack. Pressing the button for the window, it slowly slid down. Immediately the intense heatwaves of summer hit her skin, soaking into her body as her clothes suddenly felt too thick to wear at the moment once she eased herself out. 'In this heat I bet ice cream and water would boil. Why couldn't it be a hazy day of clouds.'

Crouching down a little she steered clear from fragmented and little clusters of splintered glass, her footsteps being silent as she could manage. Keeping herself fully aware to pause every few minutes to take a thorough survey of the area, ensuing she didn't have any creatures tailing secretly. Her eyes and top of her head peeking just over the edges of windows, hoods and tailgates of vehicles left stationary in the main street. The crevices of her body's figure little by little condensed with sweat.

Padding herself down a little, she silently lamented as she felt the grains of sand, smears of oil further clogged her pores. All that hard work going down the drain the longer she stayed in the heat and in these ripped and frayed clothes. Without notice her heartbeat sped up, an automatic nearly cemented reaction to the soft skittering of talons, menacing hisses and breathy snarls passing through frosted razor sharp teeth. She crouched down, doing a quick three sixty view of side to side, top to bottom. Seeing all the possibilities where her position made her vulnerable and potential to life ending choices. The vehicles were spaced enough for running and could be jumped across by anything. Though not many of the vehicles had high suspensions to crawl under. And several of the vehicles blocked her in, preventing her from crawling over the hoods from how big or sloped the hood is. Calculating the estimated seconds it would take to jump up, crawl onto the vehicle, run then do the same thing. Another raspy hiss, like sizzling acid in a softer tone. She flinched, her body contracting to still every nerve then slowly releasing to edge forward in a slight crouch.

They were moving by her, a mere vehicle apart.

A few feet away from her fate of being harvested and once again encapsuled in goop to be the fertilizer of an alien colony. She thickly swallowed, forcing back images depicting her chest being tore open from the inside, the sickening sensation of crunched bones. One step, the next and then her body responded in kind. Her fingers kept thumbed over the smooth fabric of her fanny pack, a small assurance against an illusion of control.

'My nails are so damaged and cracked. I should take them off.... though those charms are pretty.'

Her hands turned a bit red from touching hot asphalt. The shattering of a window made her heart burst into a flurry of emotion though she made herself keep stationary. Slowing peeking back over a window, she noticed they had rummaged through a van. More glass sprinkled to the ground. A bony black mass that showed every ridge of it's unnatural existence skittered then body slammed into a vehicle as they fought over scraps of a child.

'Damnit, that's so disgusting- don't, don't think about it. Keep moving.'

Hurrying in the most silent way possible, she crawled underneath a truck and stayed there for a moment to reassess the situation. Her heartbeat had calmed to a considerable pace without her having to manually breath slower. What she didn't calculate is the sudden crashing sound on the truck's roof, making it cave in as the vehicle itself sunk down a little from the weight. Seeing it's shadow on the asphalt, she realized it's the other creature.

He's crouched, his head swiveling around for a quick moment as it let out a roar. A shinking noise of a blade. Those spindly creatures screeched and lunged for him or a very few ran away.

Curled up beneath the vehicle, she felt it's weight shift and sway as the muscular thing fought. A couple vehicles exploded. Heat razed the ground, acidic blood dripped and splattered onto metal and paved rock. Melting it cleanly beyond repair.

'I can't stay here.'

The truck's undercarriage smacked against her head only solidified that thought. She let out a yelp then instantly felt her heart speed up, the accompanying blush and her mind working nanoseconds ahead. She turned her head and saw one of the black creatures hissing loudly at her while the two species created carnage just on her other side. It tried to reach it's talons inside, she fumbled for her screwdriver in the fanny pack.

Yanking it out, she hit the asphalt several times but got her few strikes in against the black alien, making it rethink it's strategy. Knowing it'll likely try to crawl in, she kept wildly swinging her screwdriver around while she felt around in the fanny pack for the few bullets.

The humanoid creature in weird armor slammed a black alien into a car.

She flinched as more acidic blood dripped down from it's broken skeleton. Finally pulling out a handful of bullets, she tossed the shells across the street and right by the burning vehicles destroyed by a plasma cannon blasts.

A roar and an answering screech, more limbs being cut and slashed into individual pieces.

Letting out a sharp exhale, she swung and frantically swiped at the black creature now joined by two more. One of their talons cut into her lower calf, nearly dragging her out before the tossed bullets ignited. They went off and ricocheted, startling the black creatures a few feet and making the beige colored creature snap it's attention to find the source.

Without hesitation she made a break for it, keeping ducked down as she rolled out on the other side of the truck, scrambling to her feet and sprinting hard. She vaulted, slid over the hoods of vehicles to the other side of the street. Noticing some other black creatures crash out of boutiques and whatever woodwork they came from, chased after her.

She wasn't from here though she did know which streets and areas had been the tourist hotspots. Bigger buildings, more hiding spots. Running barefoot on the hot streets of the town, she didn't look back and she didn't stop or veer off to hide. Pumping herself faster than ever, the female saw the distant shining chain link fence of the fair grounds. Darting to her right, she went down a sandy hill of pointed stones, passing by a few tall cactus before coming right up to the fence.

Jumping it, she crawled up and felt the links snag on her jeans to sharply pinprick her skin. Throwing herself over it to land in a puff of dust, she heard them crash into the fence and scramble up it as she continued to run.

She passed through the carnival, her feet sinking a little into the fine sand and feeling the gravel drag on the soles of her heel. Her sights settled on a merry go round, heading over to the controls, she bashed her hands against everything until the ride turned on and the music blasted out of the speakers. Every noise being amplified in her mind.

Their screeches raked her eardrums and made her body turn cold despite the very dry summer heat.

Running in the opposite direction, she went into a house of mirrors. Her figure reflected on the narrow figure warping surfaces. Taking a breath of air, she slowed her footsteps and moved deeper into the entertainment house. Her cheeks red and bright from exertion and anxiety, her heart thundering in her ribcage, she closely listened for any sounds of the black creatures as her breathing seemed to drown out everything else, even her thoughts.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧┍━☽【❖】☾━┑✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧*ੈ✩‧₊˚

A shift of movement as the female rubbed her upper arms, one of her hands keeping a hold on the flashlight she had. She stared at her reflections, the afterthought of an idling mind being how she needed a shower and change of clothes. As she still kept finding small pieces of that secreted goop on her person she'd been cocooned in only hours ago.

Rubbing away the crusted blood on her wrist, the female let out a silent sigh. Slowing getting up, she paused every few moments with her head slightly tilted and her body making minimal movement to determine whether or not she's safe to breathe.

Measuring her footsteps she walked to the exit that's aesthetically covered by a curtain, listening for another moment she heard nothing. Though her heart pounded a bit harder. Holding onto her flashlight, she noticed no sun shined at the bottom of the curtains or made the fabric seem thinner from it's light.

It must've been hours but at this point, hiding and waiting out for hours seemed to become her only source of exercise and constant state of what her life has come to. Peeking out, she drew the curtain to the side with the end of her flashlight's handle. The orange bulbed lights of the solar controlled lights were on, the sky completely black and the desert terrain standing still just like her.

As if the world now knew the events of what happened in the last five days changed the course of mankind's present and future forever.

The female gently tested her weight on the wooden steps before descending down the short staircase. On a last second thought, she took the curtains with her. Wrapping it around her figure like a jacket and dress, she quietly walked through the fair grounds.

Popcorn bags, cotton candy cones and some push toys laid on the dirt. Some lights of rides flickered like a dying candle running on the last threads of it's wick. Her flashlight in one hand and currently unlit, she went to a small gift shop. There was no phone or landline and no internet for the working iPhone she found dropped on the floor. Picking out a shirt one size smaller than normal, couple water bottles and some paper towels despite no one being around, she still went behind the cashier counter to change.

Uncapping the lids of the water bottles, she dunked the paper towels in the water, wiping it over her skin as she took most of the dirt off. Scrubbing and washing away the grime, blood, sweat and essentially the memories that came with the reason there's blood in the first place.

Sliding on the new shirt, hoodie, wrapping the curtains around her shoulders like a strap for future purposes. She found a water basin for apple bobbing, she dunked and shook her hair free what she could. A relief of one problem being dealt with settled her thoughts. Still no shoes to wear.

That night she opened one granola bar for dinner and slept in the cubbyhole of where they kept the extra plushies and boxes of other prizes.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧┍━☽【❖】☾━┑✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧*ੈ✩‧₊˚

There was no hurry to leave or go anywhere though one designation remained present in her mind the next day when she woke in the afternoon. Her family- well her grandparents had a place up in Alaska. If her memory served her right, which both fortunately and unfortunately did, there'd be enough canned food and natural resources for her to survive there without any worry. They hadn't sold the property but kept it as the ideal family vacation house in the winter.

With that her mind she gathered up four water bottles, dozens of granola bars, candy and some pop tarts from the fair grounds remaining food supply. Finding another flashlight, some batteries and a phone charger in the abandoned vehicles nearby. Apparently no one had kept extra shoes in their once day to day work life. Sliding on her backpack and keeping her fanny pack, she walked the cactus and brush ridden terrain.

SIDENOTE | reblog, comments and lmk if you wanted to be tagged for the next part.

[kaialone]

All Fanny Moves Translated (Guilty Gear Petit)

I wanted to do a quick translation of all of Fanny's named moves, cause they are fun.

And I thought maybe some of you would be interested in these too, so here you go-

--

とばしますよ “Here comes the shot”

Fanny fires a tiny Fanny from her syringe. In Petit 1, this move only fired a blob of goop instead.

Translator’s Note: This move’s name is a bit awkward for translating directly, cause the verb used has many different translations depending on the context.

Here it refers to the launching/firing/etc. of the projectile from Fanny’s syringe, and you could translate it as anything along the lines of “I’ll shoot/fire/launch” or the like.

I liked going with the phrasing of “Here comes the shot”, because of the double meaning in English.

-

ささりますよ “Here comes the jab”

Fanny jumps onto her syringe, assuming her pogo stance. In Petit 2, she moves forward and does damage while doing this. In Petit 1, she only assumed the stance.

Translator’s Note: Another slightly awkward one- more literally translated it’d be “I’ll stick/pierce/jab”, referring to her sticking the needle into the ground.

Like before, I liked using the phrasing “Here comes the jab” because of the double meaning in English.

-

ご機嫌いかが? “How are you feeling today?”

(During pogo stance) Fanny hops forward.

-

そしてさようなら “And, Goodbye”

(During pogo stance) Fanny hops backward.

-

上に伸びます “Stretching up”

(During pogo stance) Fanny jabs upwards with her head.

-

横に伸びます “Stretching forward”

(During pogo stance) Fanny jabs forward with her head.

-

下におります “Going down”

(During pogo stance) Fanny swings down from her syringe, returning to her normal stance.

-

ちょっと痛いですよ “This will hurt a bit”

Fanny stabs with her syringe.

-

呼び戻し “Call Back”

Follow-up to “This will hurt a bit”, Fanny pulls the stabbed opponent closer.

Translator’s Note: This move actually has the same name as Dr. Baldhead’s version of it. Faust’s version is called “Pull Back” instead.

Also, in the official English localization of Guilty Gear Missing Link, this move was left untranslated as “Yobi Modoshi”, so if you want to be super accurate, you’d go with that.

-

採血しますね。 “I'll take a blood sample.”

Follow-up to “Call Back”, Fanny draws blood from the opponent.

-

ちょっと貧血気味なんです。 "I'm a little anemic."

Fanny faints onto a hospital bed, smacking into her opponent.

In Petit 1, the move functioned a bit differently, with the setting up of the bed being the active frames, and Fanny would fall asleep even on a miss (but the animation was shorter.)

-

死の119番 “119 of Death”

Fanny calls an ambulance, inside of which the opponent is most likely harmed.

In Petit 1, Fanny herself was driving the ambulance, and the opponent (and Fanny, it seems) would emerge with an afro or the like.

In Petit 2, an unnamed character drives the ambulance while Fanny is taking care of the opponent inside. The opponent also no longer gains an afro, but Fanny seemingly still does?

Translator’s Note: The move’s name “119 of Death” refers to “119”, which is the emergency call number used in Japan. So, if one were to localize this into English, one could go with something like “911 of Death” (for America), “112 of Death” (Europe), or perhaps “000 of Death” (Australia?)

I considered going for what would make the most sense in-universe, but Fanny’s own location isn’t entirely clear. After all, GGX and by extension Petit has stages all over Eurasia, and beyond, too. Her home stage Nirvana doesn’t have a confirmed location on Earth, so that’s not helping. Fanny herself also happens to be one of the few characters with no confirmed country of origin (it’s just listed as “unknown”), so no dice there, either.

And most importantly, there’s the fact that… phones don’t exist anymore in this world. Yes, a “phone spell” does exist, but that one isn’t used by the average person, and even then, I highly doubt they’d still use the same emergency numbers as we do today, assuming they have any at all.

So really, this move’s name is more for us, the audience. And since the official Guilty Gear English localizations are pretty American-oriented, I’d bet an official one would go for “911 of Death” in this case, if they wouldn’t change it entirely.

(Probably thinking too hard about this.)

--

[boots-with-the-fur-club]

Continuation of an interaction between me and @phoebepheebsphibs’ AUs!

@tmntaucompetition

“I will be taking that, thank you very much!” Donnie says with a smirk and sporting a ninpo made gas mask as he gets his wallet back.

Thief Leo barely holds back gagging from the absolute rancid smell of a genius patented stink bomb.

It was so bad he was on his knees.

“While I admire your tenacity in tricking us all, papa didn’t raise a fool. Unless you count my Leo.”

“I saw him cross his fingers and take your wallet, I just thought it would be funnier if I didn’t say anything.” Leo insists.

Raph clears out the stink bomb smoke with some clones to avoid bothering the other contestants and reaches a hand out to thief Leo.

“We’re gonna let that slide this time because we’re realizin how tough other universes can be, but only one time. Got that, little man?”

Thief Leo begrudgingly nods and takes the help up.

Raph practically lifts him up places him back on his feet.

Both Mikeys arrive back to the scene after spray painting some walls they hope nobody can tie them to.

Con artist Mikey rushes over to thief Leo when he sees his red eyes and how he’s still coughing.

Raph looks over at his Mikey.

“He didn’t try anything, did he?”

Mikey shakes his head.

“He just seemed really happy to have someone new to talk to. He even helped me hold the can up when my arms started shaking.”

“What do we do with them? Just allow the roaming around and general thievery?” Donnie questions.

Mikey looks at the two of them.

“They’re not bad people. He told me how he only had Leo for a long time. We’re pretty lucky we never got separated for long.”

Leo stares for a moment as well before pulling a coin out from his fanny pack and walking closer.

“So, you guys have probably learned a thing or two already about taking stuff without anybody seeing. I think I can teach you something extra! Magic slight of hand!”

Thief Leo beams as he and his Mikey watch Leo toss around a coin before making it disappear completely.

“How did you do that without sleeves!?”

“It’s all in the redirection, alt me.” Leo pulls the coin out from con artist Mikey’s shirt collar.

His jaw drops as he grabs the coin.

“Woah! Amazing!” He quickly puts the coin his pocket.

Leo let’s that slide.

“Hey, guys, permission for a small portal?”

His brothers all nod and Leo opens it up. He reaches his arm inside, fishing around before he pulls out some unicorns.

The portal closes back up immediately after.

Leo hands the unicorns to the both of them.

“Mikey and I got way too many when we were working at Hueso’s that one time. Go grab some pizza on us.”

Thief Leo looks at him in shock.

“You’re just giving us these!? Why!? I stole your brother’s wallet!”

“Well I’m pretty sure you weren’t taking it to buy video games, though even then I think you guys deserve to be able to play some, you need it. There should be enough for two so no skipping out so Mikey can eat more.”

Thief Leo looks away like he got caught in something.

Con artist Mikey stares at his brother, then at Leo who he hugs tightly.

“Thank you!”

Leo smiles softly and pats his shoulder.

“Just don’t go fainting again anytime soon.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Also get your hands out of my fanny pack.”

“Sorry.”

[bisexual-thoughtss]

Humphrey Bone x Ghost!Reader

Just a little reader insert into “The Bone Plot”.

TW; suicide (didn’t actually happen, but it was mentioned so I wanted to include the warning), canon typical headless-ness/death

“Which is why the history books echo with the name; Sir Humphrey Bone.”

You cringe, knowing it was coming but unsure of how to answer the questions that were sure to follow.

“Did you know? You’re his wife!” Cap asks accusatorially.

“Yes of course I knew,” you sigh, knowing this is going to bring up a lot that the both of you would rather not remember.

The ghosts begin their search for Humphrey as you amble along behind them. Of course you know where Humphrey is, having just left him in the study when he told you he didn’t want to come to the filming, but you weren’t going to tell them that. Eventually they do find him, and you settle into the chair next to the table his head is on.

“You didn’t tell us you were famous!” Kitty says.

“Am I? Ooh, that’s nice. Am I a painter?” Humphrey plays dumb.

“She means the plot, mate. The Catholic Plot,” Pat huffs.

You watch as they go back and forth about it, frowning as Mary grumbles about his easy death. Certainly isn’t easy to have the memory of the sight burned in your brain. You stroke his hair away from his forehead gently as he goes into telling the story. It’s not long before the ghosts have a million questions.

“Humphrey?” Kitty asks gently when he trails off, lost in thought.

“What is he talking about? Who’s Sophie?” Captain interjects and you frown.

“She was my wife,” Humphrey answers, the other ghosts’ eyes bulging in shock.

“You what?! I thought you were his wife!” Pat exclaims.

“Technically, I was his mistress,” you mumble. You hear a clipped “good lord” from Captain, and Fanny looks a bit faint.

“You never told us that!” Kitty complains.

“It never came up,” you shrug, “and you never asked.”

“But it’s not how it sounds,” Humphrey cuts in when the ghosts all begin to ask questions over each other.

“Sophie was a business arrangement, there were no feelings there. She’s the love of my life, er- afterlife? Both,” he explains, smiling at you fondly.

It really wasn’t at all how it sounds, despite how the documentary makes it seem.

You had known each other since you were young, you; a baker’s child, and Humphrey; noble but only just so. Despite their status, his parents still occasionally sent him to the village on errands which is when he’d met you. Your young romance blossomed between sacks of flour behind the bakery where your clandestine meetings took place. He was dead set on marrying you, not caring what his parents would say, but before he could tell them this, they had arranged a marriage for him, practically set in stone. They’d whisked him off to meet her and marry right away.

You were heartbroken when Humphrey snuck into town the next week and told you the news, but he was undeterred.

“She doesn’t want to be married to me any more than I want to be married to her,” he tells you urgently, willing you to understand.

“It’s just for looks, she has no interest in being with me at all,” he implored.

“What are you saying?” You ask softly, not daring to get your hopes up. He explains his plan to you and honestly you think it just might work.

And it does. Within the week you’re moved into their manor, under the guise of being a new baker in the kitchen.

“Not only were you the mistress, but you had the gall to live in their home?!” Fanny squawks and you roll your eyes.

“It wasn’t like I was intruding on their marriage, Fanny. Humphrey is not a deceitful man, we discussed it with Sophie before I ever even moved in,” you explain curtly, her face scrunching in disbelief as Humphrey goes on to tell them about your arrangement.

The two of you were free to be together within the walls of the house with Sophie in her own side of the manor, which suited her just fine. They kept up appearances in public when need be, and went about their own business at home. This arrangement suited you all for years until Sophie became restless in the house.

Humphrey, ever the gentleman, still looked after Sophie as much as she’d permit (which truly wasn’t much) but he was more than willing to supply her with anything she might want or need. This is how “book club” had started. Sophie held her meetings while the two of you enjoyed your alone time on the other end of the manor. Until one fateful day, that is.

Humphrey had just gone round to grab something out of the chart room after one of the book club meetings when he found the letter. His blood had run cold when he read it, instantly thinking of what it could mean for your lives. The moments after this were pure terror, telling Sophie to run and thinking that you were safe on the other side of the manor. Panicking as the guards were banging on the door.

“Beheaded on the spot for high treason, so heinous was his crime. His mistress committing suicide out of grief at the sight.”

“At least, that’s how-“ Humphrey starts, but gets cut off by the Captain’s salute and the other ghosts murmurs of agreement.

“We should tell Alison,” Kitty says, and the ghosts agree, wondering off to do so. You can’t help but think about how the rest of that night actually went.

You heard the shouting from the other side of the manor, no idea what was going on but a pit forming in your stomach. You ran towards the chart room where Humphrey said he was going, using the back halls to avoid whatever the commotion was. Running into the room through the back door, you find Humphrey panicking.

“What are you doing here? You have to go!” He whisper yells, his eyes full of fear.

“What’s going on?” You ask in a hushed voice.

“There’s no time! You have to hide,” he insists, frantically shoving you into an alcove covered by thick curtains in the corner before running off to his own place to hide. You don’t dare to even breathe when you hear the doors being shoved open and the queen’s guards announcing themselves. They search for what feels like forever, one of them coming so close to you that he nearly touches you with his sword through the curtains before the other one distracts him. You can hear them leave but you still don’t dare move until you hear Humphrey shimmying out of wherever he’d been hidden. You peek out of the curtains, when you see Humphrey halfway out of the fire place. You run to his side, ready to ask him just what the hell is going on.

“God, I love this house,” he laughs, tapping the wall lightly. You barely have time to suck in a gasping breath when you see the swords moving, much less warn him. You would’ve screamed at the sight before you, but your breath was taken away before you could even consider it, the sword swinging right through Humphrey’s neck and piercing you in the abdomen. Your thick layers of corsetry were nothing against the sharp blade sticking into you. With a gasp, you pull yourself away from the sword, blood pouring thick and fast from your wound. You don’t have time to do much of anything before you’re stumbling to the floor. In your last woozy moments lying on the ground, all you can think to do is grab Humphrey’s hand for some sort of final comfort. He’d told you later that he could still see in those final moments, watching helplessly as you collapsed, trying in vain to squeeze your hand in return.

You suppose that this is how you’d come to be Humphrey’s mistress in the history books. You look over at Humphrey and you can only imagine he’s thinking of the same moments, judging by the far off look in his eyes.

“C’mon, love. No use dwelling in the past,” you try to cheer him up, a light hand on his cheek to pull him from the memory.

“D’you reckon we should tell them what really happened?” He wonders as you take him in your arms. You imagine the two of you must make a right pair to the outside eye, a bloody Tudor lady carrying a severed head and whatnot.

“I think they’ve heard enough truth today. Let them think what they want,” you smile playfully, pressing a kiss to his cheek as you walk the both of you towards the sitting room.

[3rdeyeblaque]

On October 6th we venerate Elevated Ancestor Fanny Lou Hamer on her 106th birthday 🎉

A sharecropper turned activist, we owe a great sum of our political power, self-determination, & civil rights to the powerhouse that was Miss Fanny Lou Hamer .

Fanny Lou Hamer was was born to sharecroppers east of the Mississippi Delta. Though having completed her elementary education, Miss Fanny was picking cotton hundreds of pounds of cotton per day in her family's cotton fields. Later as a young woman, her skills in knowing how to read and write earned her a more elevated position within the sharecropping system- as a timekeeper.

Two deliberately cruel and inhumane acts would set Miss Fanny on course to a lifetime of service as a prominent figure and voice of the First Civil Rights Movement.

Unfortunately, Miss Fanny would become a victim of medical apartheid as she, among countless nameless other Black Women, were sterilized without consent via hysterectomy during her hospital day for a routine procedure. This form of medical malpractice was so gruesomely common that, in the Delta, they called it the, "Mississippi appendectomy,” as 6/10 Black Women would be surely sterilized if admitted to the county hospital. Forcibly rendered uable to have any children of her own, Miss Fanny & her husband adopted two baby girls and, later, their eldest's children. From here on out, Miss Fanny spoke out against medical apartheid and for women's reproductive rights.

What molded her into becoming a civil rights leader was the plight of the Mississippi's suppression of voting rights. Miss Fanny attended voting rights meetings and joined 17 of her neighbors on a bus ride to submit applications to register to vote. Their bus was pulled over by police on the way back & the driver was arrested. In that moment, Miss Fanny sang spirituals, particular, “This Little Light of Mine” and “Go Tell It on the Mountain". This and her willingness to challenge the County voting registrar drew the notice of local organizers and the field secretary of the SNCC, Bob Moses.

Singing Negro spirituals became a defining characteristic of Miss Fanny's activism. For two years, she continued her field work for voter registration, desegregation in, and relief work via clothing and food donation/distribution.

Her 1963 arrest in Mississippi en route from a training seminar in S.C. - which was a result of act of protest in such she and other fellow activists sat at the bus station’s Whites-only lunch counter - resulted in her beating by White officers and Black inmates, the arrests of more of their peers, and the assassination of their field secretary. The beating caused permanent damage to her eyes, legs, & kidneys that would impact her capacity for service for the rest of her life. Yet it didn't break her stride toward challenging the dominant Mississippi politics as founding member of the Mississippi Freedom Democratic Party. While she did not win office, their audacity & courage drew the nation's eye as one of numerous pivotal steps taken toward achieving Civil Rights.

“ You can pray until you faint, but if you don't get up and try to do something, God is not going to put it in your lap. ” - Fanny Lou Hamer

Offering suggestions: libations of water, sing/play African-American spirituals, & flowers

‼️Note: offering suggestions are just that & strictly for veneration purposes only. Never attempt to conjure up any spirit or entity without proper divination/Mediumship counsel.‼️

[idiotwithanipad]

Beyond The Water (Pt2)

(Another part from the continuation of a requested fic written by @shebeafancyflapjack , where My OC, Amy, moves on. Ft a mention of her OC Silver and ft her other OC Elysabeth)

"What's the point? They can't see us anyway" Amy grumbled. William and Elysabeth glanced at each other, perplexed, and gave a shrug.

"Still...". Elysabeth spoke.

"Tis a chance to ponder 'pon good times long past". William straightened his leather belt and beckoned the girls forward.

"Come, lassies! The rising tide does wait for no one." He bellowed, turning on his boots and stepping toward the pool of rippling water. Amy gave a confused frown at Elysabeth. The young blonde rose her brows in amusement.

"That be his tongue's way of saying 'no time like the present'..." Elysabeth clarified, turning also and jogging to catch up.

Amy watched as she headed away, only at this distance could Amy spot something peculiar about the girl; beneath the knee of her right leg, her flesh seemed to glisten. The taut skin looked quite reflective and almost shiny like a scar. Strange.

William hoisted the girl up onto his shoulder again and hobbled down into the pool, the misty spray from the waterfall casted faint rainbows around them. Curiosity killed the cat, and Amy wandered closer, just to watch. By the time she had stepped mere meters from the mossy ledge of the pool, the water worked it's magic, and the wobbly image of the Ball Room faded into sight.

Almost everyone sat quietly and bored in the room as the clueless livings passed by. It looked to be one of those dull, slow, eventless days. One where everyone would be so bored and unoccupied that they'd retreat to their rooms to sleep the day away so that something interesting may follow tomorrow. Robin sat beside Pat, who looked on the verge of nodding off any moment.

His bearded chin rested in his palm as he slouched forward against his knees. William chuckled.

"Ah! There's the old sea dog!" Pure fondness radiated from the protly gentleman.

"A shame that there be no japes to chuckle at. Seems as though the day be dragging. Poor Rogh" Elysabeth smiled sympathetically. Amy had to agree; she'd only seen her caveman friend in that state once in all her years at the house. She'd approached him in the kitchen, sitting cross-legged on the tile floor in front of the pantry door, staring up at it, looking like a dog tied up waiting for his owner to come through the door. His bloodshot eyes didn't blink. His jaw slack, half open, his hands lying dead at his sides. She'd called out to him, patted his shoulder, clicked her fingers beside his ear, tickled under his chin. But he didn't move. He seemed frozen in time, paused while the rest of the world continued without him.

But, even through the water, Amy could tell that this wasn't one of his 'dark' moments. A far cry from it. Thankfully, he just looked bored today. Not vacant and depressed. Fanny and Cap chatted idly in the opposite sofa about some old timey mumbo jumbo that Amy could care less about. Thomas paced slowly at the window, looking out onto the grounds as if waiting for someone to arrive. Julian snoozed in a small arm chair by the wall, Silver, unfortunately, was nowhere in sight; most likely sleeping, but strangely, there was no sign of Kitty.

The Georgian was usually sitting in amongst everybody, regardless of what was going on. Perhaps she wanted to go sit with Silver a while and talk to the comatosed neo-pagan about cute animals and her favourite songs? No sign of him either. What was Amy expecting? That the others would actually give a shit about Humphrey after she went away? Laughable. Fucking laughable.

With a shake of her heavy head, Amy turned from the waterfall and made a move to head off again. She almost jumped out of her skin. A slightly older woman, seemingly in period nighttime dress stood before her. Her face only slightly wrinkled and stoic, her chestnut hair greying a little at the roots, was pinned back by a sheer hood of fabric embroidered with a thin golden cotton.

"Jesus...". Amy muttered to herself, sharply looking the gaunt old woman up and down. The woman merely looked down at Amy, unphased, her eyes empty yet piercing, maybe even more strict and uptight than Lady B. William and Elysabeth turned their heads at the sound of Amy's slightly irrigation, they too noticed the woman, who looked somehow more ghostly than any of them.

"Ah! Pardon us, Madame. We shan't be much longer". William announced, respectfully. So this spot was the only window to earth? You had to line up and take turns like a paranormal payphone? Interesting. The woman rose her eyes to the pirate. Still stoic, she nodded once, she didn't smile. Amy took small glimpses at the woman while she was distracted by William. Something seemed off about her, yet Amy couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was.

It felt as though Amy could somehow understand this complete stranger; like even she didn't want to be here either.

"Amy! Dear Amy, look!". Elysabeth squealed. Amy whipped her head back towards the waterfall so quickly that her headphones almost flew off. After brushing away her long black hair from her eyes, she glared up at the girl still perched on William's shoulder.

"What?!". She spat.

Elysabeth pointed at the shimmering water with a hopefully toothy grin. Amy's annoyed grimace faded quickly as she looking into the water. Kitty meandered casually into the Ball Room, a soft smile on her lips, the colourful feathers in her hair bouncing as she moved. In her hands, she gently clasped him. He looked better than how she remembered the last time she'd seen him through the veil, but only slightly. He still had heavy lids and thick dark bags under his eyes, they almost looked bruised. He didn't smile or talk, but he looked glad to have the company.

"Humphrey?..." Amy whispered to herself, cautiously stepping down into the water. William gave a warm chuckle as stepped aside. Robin must've heard Kitty come in, since he shuffled up slightly to allow room for her to sit. She thanked him and reclined beside him, lying Humphrey's head in her lap. The caveman glanced down at the head and brought his hand up to give it a gentle pat, almost like a reassuring back slap... If only he had it right now.

"Humphrey?" Amy called into the water, forgetting for a second that he couldn't hear her.

"Humphrey! Guys! I'm here!"

Humphrey's brow furrowed, as though something was bothering him. His eyes flicked around as though expecting to see something. Amy's heart skipped and her breath stilled. Could he hear her?

"Hello?!" She called.

"Is that you?" Humphrey spoke.

Amy's eyes beamed in joy.

"Yes! I'm here!"

"What took you so long? " Humphrey spoke again, relatively monotone. Guilt pinched Amy's gut.

"I'm sorry, if I knew you could hear me I-"

Amy paused when she spotted Humphrey's headless body bumble into view and come to a stop beside Kitty who lifted his head up to reconnect them.

Oh.

Humphrey clicked his jaw on with a groan of discomfort and tha ked Kitty. Amy sighed and shut her eyes. A shrill gasp distracted her. From behind her, the older woman stood at the bank, hands clasped over her mouth in pure shock. Her eyes wide and frozen to the water.

Amy looked the woman over, she looked both appalled and flabbergasted. Stuck up old people, they always felt at liberty to do, say or react to anything however they wanted without any consequences. Amy didn't roll that way. Elderly or not, if you want respect you earn it first. And the reaction from the woman at Humphrey's appearance and...affliction, for some reason, boiled her blood.

"What?!" Amy barked to the woman, who broke her eyes from the water and stared at Amy in just as much horror. Glancing between the furious teen and the waterfall, the woman staggered back, letting her hands slowly drop to cover her clavicle.

"Mon Dieu..." The woman muttered under her breath.

"What? Too much for your prissy old brain to handle?" Amy growled.

Mary, still standing a short distance from the bank with Annie, rose her own fingers to her lips. Her brow pinching with trepidation, as though preparing for a fight to break out.

"No, girl..." Annie spoke. Amy's eyes darted past the horrified woman to focus on the Puritan. Annie stroked her hand along Mary's shoulder to calm her.

"We knows of this woman. We's bumped into her many a time whilst visiting this'yre water. She hath a past of her own in the house..." Annie explained, sombre.

Amy flicked her eyes back to the woman who began to drift past towards the pool. Mary huddled closer to Annie, bringing the hem of her apron up to cover her face from her nose down, she crooned a nervous tone like a nesting hen, waiting for the uglyness of the situation to escalate.

The woman quickly, as fast as her aging body would allow, pivoted and clenched her fist against her chest. She looked shellshocked. Amy caught onto it almost immediately.

"What? Were you his friend or something?"

The woman passed by Amy again, heading back towards the trees.

"I say, Miss! Did'st thou wish to conjour the water for thyself? We is done with it now!" Elysabeth called after the woman. Without turning her head, the woman answered.

"Non. Thank you"

Amy could detect the strong French accent straight away. The facts came together in her head like a puzzle that was intended for toddlers; so clearly desiphered and unmistakable.

"Hey?!" Amy called, gathering her grip on the rock she clasped in her hands, for some reason still carrying it. For an older woman, she was a pretty fast walker, Amy had to jog to keep up with her as she made her way through the Evergreens ahead.

While walking briskly forward, the woman began to mutter something to herself repeatedly, something in French that Amy couldn't make out.

"I know you can hear me! Don't you run from me, you old bi-"

"How did you come by that man?!"

Amy stopped in her tracks, pulling back her hand which was about to clamp down against the woman's shoulder, before she had spun around and glared at her. Amy couldn't deny it; she wasn't expecting THAT. Her heart pounded. Don't be a coward, Amy. Don't look scared. Don't look like a victim and they can't make you one. Fight back.

"I could ask YOU the same thing! And his names Humphrey. Bitch." Amy spat.

The woman stepped closer, her brow pinched in irritated fear.

"I know his name. Tell me how you know of him!" The woman seemed crazed, almost desperate. Amy stepped closer to her, painstakingly trying to keep up her hardened shell of fake badassery.

"Use your little thinky brain and guess. I died there and met him. Now tell me your side of it..." Amy bargained. The woman nodded, a bitter sneer on her aged face.

"I knew him well enough. For a long time..."

That wasn't a clear enough answer.

"You died there?" Amy asked, scrutinizing. The woman's face fell.

"Non. But I did live there".

Amy kept her eyes and her knitted brow fixed hard on the woman, searching for any moment she'd slip up.

The woman's hand came up to her mouth again as her brow arched in sadness.

"Mon Dieu-...I didn't think he would actually-".

That was enough. The clues all added up.

"You're her, arent you?" Amy asked coldly, almost as if the pain hit her just as hard. The woman glanced back at Amy and said nothing, biting her knuckle and holding back tears.

Amy's breath caught. She sobbed, actually sobbed.

"Why?...".

The woman looked at Amy perplexed. Why did this matter? That was then, this is now.

"I'm guessing by your reaction that this was the first time you've seen the aftermath of what you've done?" Amy asked, her brow twitching, fighting to remeain knitted and angry, but desperately fighting to curve upwards into a saddened arch. The muscle's natural instinct.

The woman blinked. Dropping her hand down, staring at Amy, deeply concerned by the girls tears.

"... It wasn't my intention". The woman answered, her accent rolling like a wave at the pronunciation. Amy gave a scoff and padded her cuff against her eyes to collect any tears.

"Truly. I invited him to leave the house with me, but he stayed behind. He is the only reason I escaped-"

"I know. He told me all of it. Every little fucking detail!" Amy blurted, causing the woman's hand to recoil. The woman looked down at the rock, held tightly to Amy's stomach.

"Why is it that you hold that?". She asked, cautiously. Amy scoffed and pushed past the woman, storming through the woodland out of sight. Mary stood a short distance away, probably to make sure it didn't get too far out of hand. The woman glanced over at her, shame long forgotten, plucking at her psyche.

"Tell me... Why does the girl cry and carry that rock?" The woman asked, almost looking fearful of the answer. Mary, followed closely by Annie, William and Elysabeth, stepped forward.

"I remembers you from older times visiting the water, Sophie. You's not a bad woman, thou were just in a bad situations. T' both of thou were..." Mary assured.

Sophie closed her eyes tightly.

"Please... Tell me... "

Mary yielded, giving a soft sigh. Wondering where to begin.

"Well-...The hea-..Humphrey, did care fondly for the girl. I hath watched from our heavenly layer and seens it with my own eyes. Every time I did watch in on my darling girl, I did see the pair together. She did keeps him close at hand at all times"

Sophie focused on the peasant woman closely.

"Years of watching in on them, next thing I knows, Humphrey be calling the girl his own daughter. Had a page writtens 'bout it, an' all. Long stories, but a living did speak to us all and gave us that which death takes away. How he came to have the page o'course..." Mary explained.

Sophie stared, gobsmacked. Humphrey did what? She never would've thought that of him. He was a good man. A kind man. Kinder than she sometimes thought than she deserved; especially given the time period in which they were alive.

"Yeah" Annie chimed in, a chipper smile on her lips.

"I also took ear of him calling her 'Poppet'. He was always daft as a brush" Annie chuckled.

Sophie didn't smile, nor laugh, she just stared at the two women in shock.

"And what of the girl?" Sophie asked, still remaining cautious.

"Amy? Oh, she did love him so. Don't recalls her calling him 'Da', but she did care deeply. Always stood ground for him as far as I could tells". Mary smiled.

"A fiery lass, that's for true!" Agreed William, who had also caught a fleeting glimpse of Amy from the veil.

Mary nodded.

"And she doth carry with her that slippery old rock because it does reminds her of him. She be accustoms to wandering with him in hand. S'pose it be the same in weights?"

Sophie couldn't explain the feeling she felt, but she was glad that Humphrey had someone to stay at his side. Despite their differences in life, Sophie never intended him any ill will. She certainly didn't want him to DIE.

"So, by the grand schemings of things, if thou carried on with Humphrey, thou woulds hath a step daughter or sorts, Sophie". Mary smiled sheepishly, earning an amused chuckle from Annie.

William and Elysabeth held back their japes. Somehow, to Elysabeth, she felt as though Amy would rather rub salt into her own eyes rather than associate with Sophie. But she would hope for any good outcome.

Now miles away, sitting on the edge of a grassy canyon which overlooked a deep winding ravine below, Amy dangled her platforms over the edge of the wafting grass, peering down into the deep drop. She still held the rock on her lap, stroking at it, never letting it slip from her hands.

Was it possible to die a third time? And if so, where would she end up?

[justlookatthosesausages]

I am VERY emotional about BBC Ghosts' final season coming soon and since we went down the bittersweet and fluffy headcanons route with @phenixy-dunnhart and @cheery-space-lizz, here you go fams, a reminder that I headcanon since DAY ONE that if Alison and Mike have a child in the last season it will go that way:

Alison feels nauseous for a week and can’t tell why and she starts to stop hearing and seeing the ghosts around so she panics and feels really sad about it, and Mike can’t do anything and feels sad for her too though he is very supportive, and one morning out of a sudden idea she takes a pregnancy test and it’s positive and Mike is super happy at the news (after fainting first) and the ghosts are extatic and for months she communicates with them through (very slow) means like Julian typing on the laptop or whatever and at one point Pat goes “You know Alison, the reason why you can’t see us anymore maybe is because you’re carrying life now…” and they all bet that it’s exactly why and 9 months later when the baby arrives in the Button House where it already has so many uncles and aunties, Alison suddenly hears and sees them all again and they’re all gathered around her with tears of joy and she’s having the best day of her life because she’s a mother AND she got her family back

IT'S ALL ABOUT THE FLANGST GET IT

also when I first shared this headcanon, @hell-and-pepsi added: "Bonus if the kid can see ghosts too" and they were SO RIGHT

Like omg of course the kid sees the ghosts and Julian runs around pretending that he’s the one the kid saw first.

“Don’t you get it? Alison saw me first, they saw me first-”

Robin: that only because you walk butt naked, they are shock

Fanny: you’re wearing animal pelts every day, Robin. If anything, you’re as shocking to children eyes.

Pat: that doesn’t change the fact they probably sees us. Did anyone else try? It’s too bad they're all in town right now it would have been lovely to try it.

Kitty, beaming: They smiled to me yesterday!

Captain, rolling his eyes: The kid smiles all the time, Kitty, it’s no proof. (Then coughs because he doesn’t want the others to comment on how he tenderly observes the baby) What- uhm- what about you, Thomas?

Thomas: (dramatic sigh) I long of the day this lovely child will notice my undeniable love for–

Robin: it no.

Julian: yeah.

Pat: yeah.

[ali-annals]

Rude Interruptions

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Rating: M | Ao3 | WC: <1k | CW: suggestive content | A/N: prompt 1 prompt 2

Marinette is trying to make out with Dick but someone decided to disturb them. Also, why does she want to make out with Dick? He is such a dork.

Soft lips trailed down her neck, ending pleasant shivers through her body.

She ran her fingers down his strong, muscled back, tugging his shirt out of his pants and pulling it up.

Bright blue eyes grinned up at her behind tousled dark hair as he tossed the shirt to a forgotten corner and lifted her shirt up.

She lifted her arms to let him pull her shirt over her head, but he left the collared neck around hers, pulling her towards him to catch her lips in a passionate kiss.

They parted for air, breathing heavily, and she finished removing the shirt, sending it after his.

Her back hit the bed with a soft thump as he crawled up her body, caging her in, trailing soft, teasing kisses as he went.

She kicked her shoes off and scooched up the bed to gain a better position to continue their hot and heavy makeout, his lithe form continuing its slow pursuit of her.

She wrapped her legs around his waist to trap him into staying close to her, locking her arms around his neck and pulling his face down to meet hers.

His warm, rough hands roaming her body, mapping out her reactions to him, adding to the heady experience of his slow, thorough kisses, his sharp cologne mixing with a faint scent of sweat and the club and something she couldn’t quite place and didn’t exactly want to with how well-kissed she was…

Faint strains of an old song sounded through the door, and she prayed it was just because her roommates hadn’t expected her back this early and were chilling in the living room, and she would just have to make sure to be quiet.

Unfortunately, her luck never seemed to carry over to her civilian life in the most desperate times she wished for it, such as right now.

The music got louder, and she could make out the faint thumping sound of feet on the creaky hardwood plank just outside her door.

Dick’s kisses paused, and he turned towards her door in confusion.

She sighed and sat up halfway. “It’s my idiot roommates, who have a bad idea of a joke and even worse taste in music.”

Dick turned back to her, pouting slightly. “But it’s the perfect song! They have great taste!”

He hopped off the bed and swung the door open, facing two grinning green-eyed blonds.

Felix was holding the speaker above his head while Adrien danced to the music at his side.

Dick joined in, copying Adrien’s moves quite quickly. 

The sound of skin hitting skin sounded above the ending tune.

Felix looked past the two’s shenanigans and smirked at Mari, who had facepalmed. “Having fun?”

“The most,” she deadpanned.

Dick looked back at her. “Come on, Mari, it’s the perfect song!!”

With a reluctant and put-upon sigh she flipped out of bed and grabbed a T-shirt to replace her previously-removed sparkly blouse before joining the impromptu dance party.

The song ended and Felix queued a new one, a little livelier this time.

~~~

Once they were finally left alone and in peace (there was a difference, as Marinette could attest to, with this night as only the latest example), she turned to Dick.

“Why did you join them and introduce yourself and be all friendly?”

He looked her in the eye and grinned. It was evil, and a little shiver went down her spine.

“Because the fastest way to kill their fun is to join it and be even more fun.”

Her jaw dropped. “You are a genius,” she breathed, jumping at him and pinning him against the wall.

~~~~~

The last guest was seated and the song began playing, the same song that Felix had blasted three years ago.

Mari’s eyes filled with tears as the flower petals dropped to the carefully-tended lawn of the Wayne Estate.

At the foot of the aisle danced a man in a black tux, a bright blue tie at his throat and a matching fanny pack around his waist, dropping rose petals as he twirled past the rows of guests.

“What is he wearing,” hissed Mari to Steph in horror, but the blonde was currently doubled over in laughter, blinking rapidly to ensure she wouldn’t cry and smudge her makeup before the ceremony even began.

“Look, Mari, that ’s what you want to marry. You don’t have to follow that dork down the aisle, you know.”

“I love him because he’s that dork,” she sighed, settling her bouquet and straightening her shoulders. “Time to go become Mrs. Dork.”

[chris-continues]

Abwisbwisnwiw not me back with another medical question but you mention Bash having a few different medical conditions (that mean Wolfwood doesn’t smoke around him, causes fainting spells and that effects his diet,,,, is it too obvious I’m binging your college AU haienskszbwksns)

I was wondering if you had specific diagnoses in mind?? If you’ve already mentioned this and I’ve just missed it I apologise!! I genuinely adore your AU writing and your Pinterest board for College Vash is so on point for him, it’s adorable!!

Vash’s medical conditions/chronic illnesses/autoimmune disorders

I’m so glad you like my college au! I’ve been thinking of some diagnoses for him and I’m probably going to add onto this more, but here’s what my brain has conjured up for now! (I definitely didn’t project into these at all cough cough)

PS: if anyone has these disorders/diseases/conditions and wants to add onto these, I’d love that! Please feel free to correct me, I cite the resources I used to research these but if anything is inaccurate lmk!

Keep in mind that Vash had a lot of health issues before the car accident w/ Rem, so some of these he just naturally developed while others are now present because of the accident^^

TW: mentions of car accidents, mentions of depression, medical talk (duh)

TAGS: @macncherries @h4venpha @lune010 @vashfantasy @millionsvash

POTS (Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome)

 “Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (POTS) is a condition that causes a number of symptoms when you transition from lying down to standing up, such as a fast heart rate, dizziness and fatigue. While there’s no cure, several treatments and lifestyle changes can help manage the symptoms of POTS.”

Vash has to keep a snack cart in his room (that he drags around) and salty stuff on him all the time since salt can help w/ some of the tremors and shakes

He’s fainted a couple times- almost hit his head on the coffee table a number of times. Nai’s pushed back the table a number of times to Vash’s complaint (because he wants to rest his feet on the table when he sits), but is reminded that between the choice of footrest and potential concussion, he should make the wise choice.

I also think he’s had to deal with several other complications due to this + high blood pressure (he has to check his blood pressure regularly)

Loss of arm/amputation

Vash lost his arm in the car accident w/ Rem, leading to the money they’d inherited from Rem mainly going towards his arm. Vash feels incredibly guilty about that still, so he does his best to take care of it (sometimes he treats his prosthetic a bit better than the rest of him)

Whenever he takes it off for the night he settles it by his glasses on his nightstand.

Suffers from body dysmorphia a bit when his arm is gone. Waking up without it terrified him for awhile.

Due to this, Nai had to literally check and make sure he took it off so his body had a chance to breathe and not constantly be maneuvering the prosthetic.

Definitely was wary about people touching it at first, but now he’s a lot more comfortable with it (in his college years)

Little kids will ask him questions about it and instead of shying away partly uncomfortably and awkwardly like he did in highschool, he’ll indulge them (with a cool make believe storytime and allow them to touch his arm).

Type 1 Diabetes

This guy has such a sweet tooth help him

Knives will have to hold him back like, “You’ll overdose on insulin no,” and swat his hand away

Has long acting insulin, has to have short acting on hand (usually in a Fanny pack) because when they go out he’ll grab a snack lol (he snacks a ton. The guy is hungry and when he sees smth that looks good, chances are he’ll usually grab it and offer you a piece <3)

Nai has to remind him to check his A1C, has it on a calendar in his phone for every 3 months

When Vash didn’t eat/forgot to eat when his depression was really bad in highschool, his blood sugar would crash bad. Nai had to shove glucose tabs down his throat while he was shaking, berating him on how irresponsible he is. It comes from a place of love.

When it’s high (DKA/ Diabetic Keto Acidosis) he’s incredibly sluggish and has to be sitting/laying down while waiting for his short acting/fast acting insulin to work.

A glucometer/blood finger stick was cheaper (and a blood sugar sensor wasn’t covered in his insurance) so that’s what Vash uses to check his blood sugar

Whenever Vash gets snacks for himself he claims it’s for his blood sugar (which partly, it is), but they both know it’s partly a lie LMAO. When Nai confronts him on that with a deadpan look Vash simply excuses it as study snacks. “They help me concentrate!” “..sure.”

Mixed hearing loss

Thanks to the accident, Vash has mixed hearing loss.

Mixed hearing loss means that unlike sensioneural hearing loss (hearing loss caused by damage to the inner ear or the nerve from the ear to the brain) and conductive hearing loss (hearing loss to outer and middle ear) 

He has to wear hearing aids thanks to this, but it takes him awhile to actually acknowledge it since he doesn’t want to stress out Nai any further after the accident. This leads to his hearing loss actively getting worse since he isn’t seeking out treatment.

He looks incredibly sheepish and guilty once he finally brings it up, as it’s impacting his life more often and becomes more difficult to navigate in his day to day life.

His hearing is better in his left than right. Insurance wouldn’t cover 2 hearing aids and his hearing was 50-70 percent in his left while his right was 30-50, so he only got one hearing aid.

To help him sluggishly get ready in the morning and because he keeps mixing up his left and right when he’s half awake he gets one ear pierced in college (with Wolfwood’s advice)

Nai thinks it looks ridiculous but yk what? If it helps him to use his hearing aid? A win is a win.

He forgets to put it in sometimes T<T

He has to constantly change the frequency/setting/channels like if he’s in a cafeteria with a lot of voices it can get really squeaky and overwhelming for him

Hashimotos

Hashimoto's disease is an autoimmune disorder affecting the thyroid gland. Leukocytes attack the thyroid.

He had dry skin and thinning hair and brushed it off as him not eating enough.. haha, guess what it was-

Eyebags. Constantly fatigued but he pulls through

Can easily get cold (he wears long sleeves and sweatshirts religiously lmao)

He takes naps often because he’s rlly tired

Hashimotos causes joint pain too so I’d imagine he feels like crap with that too sadly

There’s also the fact he often has to handle brain fog- he already struggles doing tasks thanks to his ADHD and so this only makes it more difficult. What helps him I think is a website that breaks things down for you step by step and he uses a reminders app with timed reminders for certain things (like https://goblin.tools/)

Anemia

Vash is a pretty naturally warm person but his fingers and toes can get cold

One reason why he wears gloves (that and sensory issues + he got used to wearing gloves to hide his arm in highschool- he doesn’t hide his arm anymore when he’s in college though).

When he stands up is the dizziness from POTS, anemia, his diabetes, or hashimotos?? Guess we’ll never know (poor blood circulation and dizziness)

He has some iron supplements he either forgets to take or doesn’t take as much as he should (so Nai remembers to incorporate more iron into his diet)

His arms and legs tend to fall asleep kinda fast sometimes (so you’ll have to help shake them awake lol)

Sources:

Along with help from @cowboylivio , @blu3lanc3lot + my own personal experiences (+having disabled family members)

[haggishlyhagging]

“Mining women, of course, had no time or occasion to worry about their appearance. The work was so cruelly hard that it was not unknown for a girl to fall into a dead faint from exhaustion as soon as she climbed into the basket to be drawn up to the surface at the end of her shift; when this happened, she usually pitched out of the shallow wicker container and down the shaft to her death. Other fatalities were caused by the weight of the trucks the women had to pull — at twelve and a half hundredweight, a runaway wagon easily crushed or mangled its "drawer." Even normal conditions of working were horrifyingly severe: the youngest girls had to crawl through passages as low as 16 to 18 inches, while grown women were expected to navigate tunnels no higher than 30 inches. In a 14-hour day, they would crawl for anything between 10 and 20 miles, with no opportunity at any point to stand up or straighten their limbs. In the winter, said Fanny Drake, a Yorkshire pit-woman, she worked for six months up to her calves in water; this took the skin off her feet "just as if they were scalded." Betty Harris of Little Bolton in the neighboring county of Lancashire found that her troubles came more from the girdle and chain by which she pulled her truck along, for it cut and blistered her sides "till I have had the skin off me"; but the only time it really bothered her was ‘when I was in the family way.’”

-Rosalind Miles, Who Cooked the Last Supper?

[possumsinpeoplesuits]

Hard Lessons in Cosplay

So, I decided to go to the Texas Ren Faire yesterday, and after nearly dying by being a bit of a thembo, I'm here to share what I've learned so that my fellow people-who've-never-done-this-before won't also end up nearly unconscious because of a bomb-ass outfit.

So, first off, the good parts. While I didn't bump into any friends there, and I didn't see any other Locked Tomb cosplayers there, a lot of people liked the costume anyways! Also, the fans in the mask were a lifesaver, as having a way to keep my face out of the sun while still having a steady breeze was absolutely key to making it through the early morning's 70 degree weather.

Now, for the parts that sucked.

So, you know how I mentioned it was 70 degrees in the morning, despite it being late October? Well, at around noon, that hit to 80 degrees. I started the day with a 1.5 liter bottle full of cold Gatoraide, but that got drained fairly quickly, and was soon replaced with 80 degree tap water from a water fountain. I was still okay on hydration, but I was losing electrolytes fast, and could no longer cool down as easily. To give a visual, this is how much I was sweating before I took the coat off:

I took that picture the next day, after leaving the coat to dry all night. It was STILL that wet.

So, I made my only smart decision of the day: I started heading towards the exit, to call off my first outing before the dehydration got dangerous. The only unfortunate part is, it took me almost two hours to find the exit, because I was getting a little delirious and couldn't remember where I came in, and my map had soaked through with sweat and become unreadable.

But I made it! At around 3 or 4pm, I got out of the faire, ready to get into my car, crank the AC, and laugh off the whole thing. That... did not happen. Because I had no idea where I parked.

Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, but the parking lots for the faire were divided into 30 rows, each roughly... two hundred yards or so long? So too long for my key fob to set off the alarm after walking the space in the middle of the rows.

I walked all the way to the end, then started walking back, and started stumbling because my body was starting to not work due to the heat. Some guy on a golf cart gave me a ride to the front, and I misunderstood him when he handed me a card of where I was picked up at so they could take me back when I recovered.

My dehydrated brain read it as "This is definitely where your car is, start walking again, you're almost done." So I walked there, checked all 200 yards of the combined north and south aisles... then walked back to the entrance, sat for a while to try to think up a plan, then when I went to ask someone working the entrance what to do... just kinda started blacking out.

So I sat at one of the stands outside the entrance, and while the lady running the stand didn't have the contact for the medics, she did give me some ACTUALLY COLD WATER, which didn't immediately cure my exhaustion, but cooled my brain down enough to work.

I eventually decided, hey... it's getting close to closing time. Eventually, everyone'll leave, it'll be cooler, and I can rest my legs for a bit. Someone even gave me a wet wipe to wipe the STALAGMITES OF SALT CRYSTALS off my chin.

This did, however, mean that I would be looking for my car at night. Normally, I'm pretty confident at night because I'm A. Fairly fit, and though I've been on HRT for about twelve years, I do still have them AMAB shoulders, and B. I was very, VERY heavily armed, with two two-handed Cold Steel Latin machetes, and a back up knife in my fanny pack.

But, again... I'd already fainted once, I was running on empty since I hadn't eaten since that morning, and was about 9 hours into my 10 hour death march under the Texas sun. So by 8pm, in the woods, alone, I was fucking scared. I even considered just stumbling to a main road and calling an Uber, but I was afraid that being summoned to the woods by a masked goofball wearing machetes on their legs might be, as the kids would say, sus as hell.

And finally, FINALLY, at 8:30, I found my car. After systematically searching every aisle past the reserved spots, starting from where a worker estimated I would've been parked at 10am, and searching another eight of the 200-yard aisles... I finally heard my car beep.

I proceeded to drive directly to a gas station, drink an entire cold bottle of pedialyte, then went to a chicken place and DEVOURED as much protein and fried pickles as I could, drank another liter of gaotraide, a 32 ounce soda, and made it home.

The damage? Aside from the usual chaffing, and some little marks where the knee pads were bumping into the upper part of my shin, I ended up with blisters on the pads of both feet, and one that took the entirety of my heel. My mask had worn through the skin of my nose, I was missing a section of skin on my thigh because I had a forgotten soda in that pocket, I was sore as hell, and was still five pounds lighter than when I left that morning. I also had to get up and drink some more gatoraide in the middle of the night because I was feeling feverish, but now that morning is here, I'm feeling much more alive.

So, the lessons I've learned is... bring more to drink than 1.5 liters if you're going to be outside, consider cutting the lining of a heavy coat out to stay cool, remember where the fuck you parked, and if you do end up on a ten hour death march under the Texas sun, consider bringing a necromancer with you. You might need them.

[ailendolin]

Thanktival 2022 - Day 2 - BBC Ghosts

Title: The First [Part 1 of 2, AO3]

Characters: Thomas/Nigel, the Captain, Julian, Fanny, Robin

Prompt: Mistletoe

Summary: Thomas once again waits under the mistletoe and ends up getting a kiss he doesn't want.

A/N: Part 2 will be posted on December 27 for Day 8's prompt "First Kiss".

————

The First

Chapter 1: Mistletoe

Thomas sighed. He had been standing in the doorway for almost an hour now, waiting, hoping, praying to be noticed by the one person who lately made his heart flutter every time they shared a smile. It had crept up on him, this warm fuzzy feeling that left him unsteady on his feet and made him feel faint. He hadn’t recognised it for what it was at first – not until Alison had interrupted him mid-sentence one day and said, “I think you might be in love, Thomas. Like, actually, properly in love.”

She had looked happy for him but the revelation had left Thomas reeling. He had spent so many years pretending to be in love with unreachable people that now that the feeling was real and could potentially be reciprocated he had no idea how to go about expressing it. Love letters like the ones he had written to Isabelle two centuries ago weren’t an option for him anymore and he had no other real experience in courtship he could draw from apart from that. In life, it had only ever been Isabelle for him and in death – well, there had been Alison but no real feelings had been involved there. It’s why it had been so ridiculously easy to declare his love for her over and over again. Nothing had been at stake and her rejections hadn’t been able to truly hurt him.

Now one single shake of a head and a quietly whispered, “I’m sorry but I do not love you,” held the power to break his heart and Thomas wasn’t sure he had the strength to recover from such a blow once again. His heart was barely held together as it is and he feared it would not be able to bear any more cracks – any more pain.

With a sigh, he glanced up at the mistletoe. A kiss under it had seemed like the safest way to make his feelings known. If they were not reciprocated, he could always laugh his actions off as tradition. It might hurt but it would not break his heart and make him look foolish in front of everyone else – something he’d sworn himself to never allow again. No matter how well he knew them or how kindly they had treated him, he would never leave himself that vulnerable around other people again and leave himself open to their ridicule and manipulation.

So far, nothing in the way of kissing had happened, though. The others were avoiding the mistletoe he was standing under like the plague – the irony of which was not lost on Thomas, given for whom his heart was beating these days – and seemed happy enough to leave him alone with his morose thoughts.

That is, until the Captain suddenly made an annoyed noise and turned away from Fanny to glare at him from across the room. “Bally hell, will you please cease that incessant sighing, Thorne? One can hardly hear himself think let alone have a normal, civilised conversation.”

Fanny nodded in agreement as Thomas crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I can’t very well move the mistletoe, can I, sir? You on the other hand can hold your conversation elsewhere so I’ll ask you to do just that if my sighing bothers you that much.”

“What about me and Robin, eh?” Julian asked, looking at him over his shoulder. “Can’t play chess anywhere else so I’m afraid it’s you who will have to move.”

“I was here before you and I will not leave this spot until I have been kissed,” Thomas declared, standing his ground under the mistletoe.

Something flashed in Julian’s eyes then, something cunning and dangerous that made Thomas falter.

“A kiss, you say, eh?” Julian asked, making it sound like a dare. Thomas took an involuntary step backwards when he pushed himself to his feet and strode over to him. “Nothing’s easier than that.”

With that, Julian leaned forward and Robin’s, “Julian, no!” got lost in the rushing of blood in Thomas’s ears as lips pressed against his for the very first time in his existence. For a moment, the world seemed to stand still and in the silence that fell, Thomas realised that he’d had it all wrong. His heart could very well break from a kiss.

He was such a fool.

When Julian pulled back, all the noise came rushing back in at once. It was overwhelming – as was the devastating emptiness Thomas felt when it dawned on him what he’d just lost, what Julian had just taken from him without a second thought.

“See?” Julian asked without a care in the world. “Easy. Problem solved.”

Thomas’s eyes began to burn.

“Why would you?” he breathed, bringing a hand up to touch his lips. His fingers were trembling.

The smile slowly fell from Julian’s face. “What do you mean? It was just a kiss, Thomas. Get over it.”

Thomas shook his head, feeling like someone had just drowned him in icy waters – or betrayed his trust in the most callous way.

“It was my first kiss, Julian,” he whispered. “My first.”

Julian’s mouth fell open. “Your first – seriously? You’ve gone over two hundred years without getting any action whatsoever?”

“I was waiting for the right person,” Thomas said defensively while desperately trying to keep his emotions at bay. His eyes flicked to the other side of the room, past Robin and the Captain to–

“Him?” Julian asked incredulously, following his gaze. “Plague boy?”

There was a moment of stunned silence as wide and brilliant blue met broken brown before Thomas wrenched his eyes away.

“His name is Nigel,” he managed to choke out before he couldn’t stand it any longer and turned around and fled from the room, not keen on Julian or anyone else witnessing him falling apart. Tears blurred his vision as he ran up the stairs past Alison, past his room, past her room until he finally phased through the closed door of the attic no one ever used because it was dark and gloomy and full of cobwebs. Thomas pressed himself into the darkest corner and pulled his legs up to his chest. It was only when he was sure that no one had followed him that he finally allowed himself to cry and mourn what had always been doomed to remain wishful thinking.

Pathetic, his cousin’s voice muttered in his head as it so often did in moments like this. Utterly pathetic. You’ve never been worthy of love, cousin. You’re not even worthy of friendship.

Thomas squeezed his eyes shut and, pressing his hands over his ears, shook his head. The cold December wind whistled outside, heralding the arrival of a winter storm that was nothing compared to the tempest raging inside him. When the first roll of thunder echoed over the grounds, it almost felt like a blessing – a permission to let go. Thomas stopped trying to stifle his sobs and allowed his grief to get lost in nature’s fury as all his hopes and dreams came crashing down on him.  

He’d ruined everything.