#i don't even think he actually got all of them on his body at the same time... they healed beforehand

[fgumi]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ LOSER IN A HOT MAN'S BODY

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 { PAIRING; non-idol!heeseung x reader, GENRE; fluff, school!au, headcanon, WC; 2.8k, A/N; i love losers that love that girlfriends entirely too much but, at the same time, not enough. TAGS; @en-dream @heeheesang @httpenhoon @r1kification @seungheartyou, @starfallia @sugarikiz @hoondolls @bamguetismee @jnysaln @cixrosie @wensurr @heartheejake @m1kkso }

(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ part two is up!

loser!heeseung was never the first one to get chosen for anything. well, he did get chosen first for musicals and solos! he had a beautiful voice and there was no denying that. but, for anything else? nope. it wasn't until you transferred over to his high school that he got picked willingly (and not because you guys were the only two left). you approached him in gym class after your teacher said to partner up for conditioning. "hey! i'm y/n. do you think we could be partners today?"

heeseung just blinked at you and then turned to see if someone was behind him. when he verified you were talking to him, he turned back to see you with a bemused look, a slight crease forming right between your brows. "you are talking to me, right?" he asked nervously.

a wry smile formed on your lips as you nodded. "there’s no one else around."

heeseung couldn't believe it. someone who wasn't a part of the theatre department was talking to him! so, he agreed with only a moment's hesitation. by the time sit-ups came around, heeseung knew about your basic interests and one secret: you were big on anime. you explained to him, during his sad attempts at pushups, that you loved anime but remained closeted because the boys at your last school made it weird. heeseung was careful not to let his excitement show; he didn't wanna scare you off before he really got to know you. eventually, after all the hellish exercises your teacher put you through, heeseung shyly asked you why you wanted to be partners.

"you looked like the type that doesn't judge people for struggling," you replied after drinking your water. you wiped the droplets of water that trickled down your neck and then offered heeseung some. "i don't have cooties. promise."

he gave you a faint, unsure smile, his hand reaching out slowly, half expecting you to pull it back and say psych! but you didn’t. you just patiently waited for him to take it. honestly, he just looked like a spooked deer to you, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing. after class was over and it was time for lunch, heeseung deflated. it was nice talking to you while it lasted.

“heeseung! wait up!”

he turned to you with round eyes, watching you rush over, a backpack draped over your right shoulder. you were freshly showered, water still dripping off the ends of your hair. you looked... happy? you slowed to a stop right in front of him.

“do you mind if we eat together?”

you wanted to eat with him? a cool girl like you wants to eat with a certified loser like him?

“it’s okay if you already have plans! i think i can find somewhere else to sit.”

no! you jumped a little. heeseung retracted into himself, rubbing the back of his neck. he’s never had someone ask to eat with him. he just sort of sat with his theatre classmates—not even friends. they all thought he was weird. you gave him a puzzled look.

“are you sure? you don’t have to pity me just because i’m new,” you pouted. gosh, was it just him or did everyone find you adorable?

“i’m sure. i was just hesitant since i’m not known for being, you know, popular.”

rolling your eyes, you clapped a hand on his shoulder. “as if that actually matters.” you tugged him along, linking your arm with his. thank goodness you were busy looking for the cafeteria because heeseung was struggling to keep the blush off of his face. as much as heeseung didn’t want to get his hopes up, he hoped that you guys would become real friends.

loser!heeseung loved his hobbies. he could talk about them for hours; they were his passion. he loved playing maple story, league of legends, team fight tactics, going to the renaissance fair, studying the metrics of trot (this one was a little too niche to really talk about though). none of these passions were greater than his passion for you. this man was dedicated to learning everything there was to know about you now that you were friends. you teased him about how stalkerish he sounded. almost immediately, he apologized.

the way his shoulders shrunk and eyes drooped down, you were definitely the asshole. when he stopped talking, you panicked. so, you didn’t think. you kissed his cheek. you blinked. he blinked. you blinked at each other. you know that ouran high school host club scene where tamaki realized haruhi is a girl and she complimented him? you’d bet your whole house that’s how red you were because you could feel the heat radiating off your face.

heeseung’s mind was still white noise. any sounds that were supposed to reach his ears were muffled, like he was underwater. was he underwater? was he dragged down into the depths of the styx river only to be lost forever? was he dreaming to cope with the harsh reality of his death? was he—

“heeseung?” you meekly called. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have done that without your consent. that was—”

he must’ve called upon achilles’s guidance and invincibility because he didn’t know where he got this courage otherwise. what courage you may ask? well, the courage that planted heeseung’s lips on yours.

your lips were so soft. they tasted like strawberries. he wondered if strawberries were your favorite fruit. he could kiss you forever. oh crap, he was kissing you.

anxiety crept up his spine, invading his every nerve; it was telling him he had to pull away or else you’d leave him forever. except, when he started moving away, he noticed you followed, reluctant to end the kiss. your eyes were closed too. he could’ve sworn they were open from shock.

heeseung could feel his back creaking in protest at the odd angle; he would’ve fallen over if it weren’t for you clutching the front of his shirt. huh? oh! maybe, you liked the kiss! you liked the kiss, like he did! oh, but now he couldn’t breathe. what should he do? he didn’t want the kiss to end.

he pressed back, holding out until the last possible moment. but you pulled away first, gasping for air. a blush dusted your cheeks and heeseung could guess that he was red too—probably not as pretty of a shade as yours though.

“s-sorry,” he stammered as you caught your breath. “i don’t know why i—”

you shut him up with another kiss (but this one was too short for heeseung’s newfound thirst for kissing you). when you pulled away, his big eyes tugged at your heart. they looked so sad that you moved away. it made you giggle—this whole situation. for someone that was trying to learn everything about you, he sure did miss your huge crush on him.

loser!heeseung didn’t know how he got so fortunate. was he a luck domain cleric in real life? he felt like he was rolling nat 20s continuously. he managed to ask you out (though, he was stuttering the whole time and nearly tripped on top of you—it was a whole affair that he’d rather forget) and be dating you 3 years later? he was one lucky man. and, some might say even luckier as time went on.

you got more confident once you guys got to college and, thus, you got hotter. you found your sense of self and your fashion reflected it. heeseung wasn’t doing so bad either. he found people that he got along with and could proudly (read: shyly) call friends. he found beomgyu in the league discord server that the university had and jeongin in d&d club! he’d meet up with them every once in awhile whenever they all felt like they needed to touch grass. of course, his friends knew you came first. you were heeseung’s everything. what they couldn’t wrap around their heads was how heeseung was your everything.

“you’ve been dating for 3 years!? no way, man.” “are you secretly rich? the son of some big conglomerate?” “all offense, she’s hot and you’re… not.”

heeseung didn’t let that bother him. his friends were idiots that had never felt the touch of a woman. plus, you trained him better (you told him to stop talking about himself like he was your pet, but he refused). you loved him so much without any strings attached. you were patient with him and listened to him ramble about how league kept nerfing his favorite character with every update. you never tried to change him and you told him it’s because you fell in love with him for how he was. but, there came a day when he wished you did. he happened to overhear a conversation between you and your friends.

“girl, there’s no way you’ve been with heeseung for 3 years and he hasn’t picked up a single thing about fashion from you.” “the face cards are mismatched, ma. you’re up here and he’s not even on this plane.” “don’t you ever get embarrassed whenever you guys go out? i mean, he dresses like he’s stuck in his mom’s basement.” “i hope he compensates in other ways because he’s not doing it where i can see.” “how are you okay with someone that much skinnier than you? doesn’t your body dysmorphia get triggered?”

you stopped talking to those girls after that. however, it didn’t stop heeseung from getting hurt by it. it was true, in heeseung’s eyes. you deserved much better than what he was giving you. how is it that you loved him even though he looked the exact same as he did 3 years ago? there were so many hot guys around and you never so much as turned your head to glance. there was nothing to support his insecurity about being hot enough or being enough in general. nonetheless, that horrid conversation sparked something in heeseung.

“baby, i’m heading to the gym. i’ll be back later to cook us dinner, okay?” if your brows raised any further, they’d merge into your hairline. “the gym?” heeseung nodded firmly. “gotta start working out to combat all the ramen i eat.”

“hee, you haven’t gained weight since we started dating, despite you eating my leftovers and your food. you don’t need to combat anything,” you laughed. when you saw heeseung was still tying the laces on his shoes, you let it go, thinking nothing of it. you kissed him and reminded him to stay hydrated.

thus began heeseung’s gym journey. it was difficult. muscle barely stuck even though he was eating well over 3000 calories. but, he could see his body getting toned, more cut, so he was happy. maybe people would stop looking at the two of you like you were wrong.

his wishful thinking remained at that. despite getting noticeably more fit, people still talked. they talked about his fashion, his haircut, and his hygiene (he thought this one was unfair considering he always did skincare with you and loved doing your nightly routines).

so, on the day you told him you were going thrifting, he asked to tag along. you were taken aback. heeseung never came with you; he didn’t see the point when he had perfectly good clothes at home. but you let him come along. you thought he’d just peruse with you or be there to make sure you paid with the card he gave you (he made a lot of money from his internship and begged you to use it for anything you wanted), but he didn’t. he asked a lot of questions.

“do you think this would look good on me?” “do these go together?” “are these good quality?”

you were excited. going thrifting was one of your favorite hobbies and to see heeseung taking such an interest in it was thrilling. you gave your opinions, always with a disclaimer that fashion is up to preference. he nodded along, processing your words. by the end of your thrifting trip, heeseung went home with a bundle of clothes to wear. the next day, he’d wake up earlier than normal to try and piece his new clothes together. he knew he wasn’t good at it. his friends let him know without reservations. hell, your friends let him know with their skeptical looks. it wasn’t until he talked to sunghoon in the gym that he got some actual constructive criticism.

“you’re taking an interest in fashion?”

“nothing crazy,” heeseung muttered, kicking the dust on the floor. “i just hate the comments y/n gets whenever her friends think i’m not listening.”

sunghoon looked at his gym buddy in pity. “look, man. if everything you’ve told me about your relationship is true, i don’t think y/n cares what you wear. she hasn’t in 3 years. what makes you think it’ll change all of a sudden?”

nothing. he didn’t doubt you. he just got sick at the thought of you having to listen to all those criticisms. so, sunghoon helped him. he showed him his pinterest moodboard and made heeseung swear to never tell anyone that’s how he chooses what to wear. after that informative session, heeseung got to work. he used your instagram feed as a reference, wanting to match your aesthetic, and created a moodboard inspired by it. using his pinterest board, he went thrifting by himself. he recalled the countless videos he watched while sorting through the clothes. cotton, not polyester. depending on the stain, you can get it out. tailoring is always an option when you find something that is a little too big!

he was very serious about his transformation. he even digitally scrapbooked the pictures of him in different clothes so he could be like cher in clueless. since then, his fashion started improving. your morning routines together changed ever so slightly with you telling him to spin for you. his heart warmed with every compliment you gave him.

“who is this diva?” “i feel very underdressed. i’m changing.” “are you getting dressed by law roach?” “you’ve been taking dress to impress a little seriously these days.”

heeseung’s confidence soared. now, he wasn’t ashamed to go out with you. your friends weren’t ashamed to be seen with him either. they even went as far as to compliment him! score! he’d gotten brownie points with your friends.

“finally, he’s dressing like a boyfriend fit to be with you, y/n.”

oh, that made you pull the brakes real fast. it completely escaped your mind how much your friends dissed your boyfriend (because you brushed them off as stupid comments). come to think of it, heeseung always did manage to miss the moments where they talked about him, but only by a minute or two. what if… what if he did hear those comments?

curious and worried, you asked him during your nightly routines. “hee, did… did you start dressing up for any particular reason?”

uh oh. heeseung hated lying to you; it physically pained him. so, he confessed. “i heard what your friends think of me and i didn’t want you to have to keep hearing them say things like that.”

“oh, baby, i’m so sorry you heard that,” you cooed. “i didn’t tell you because not even an atom of me agrees with them. i love you as you are, uni tees, basketball shorts and all.”

heeseung put down the moisturizer and looked down. “i know… i just wanted people to stop thinking we’re wrong for each other.”

you frowned and pulled him into a hug. “well, we know we’re perfect for each other. i’ve known it from the moment you started talking about the metrics of trot. i remember just nodding along and thinking how beautiful you were.”

heeseung blushed at your words. you always knew how to make him feel better.

“you don’t have to dress up for anyone but yourself, okay?”

he shook his head with a small smile. “i like matching with you. it’s fun.”

“well, i guess we really gotta dress to impress then,” you grinned, kissing his cheek.

with that, heeseung was reassured. no more pressure. he could just dress however he wanted (which was however you were dressing). but, his glow up didn’t stop there. no, he thought about a haircut. he wanted something that would shut your friends up forever. so, after scrolling forever on tiktok, he found that he liked a mullet with some face-framing pieces. he went and got it done at sunghoon’s trusted barbershop and came out a new man. he immediately sent you a picture, to which you responded, “don’t go anywhere. no errands. no grabbing food. come home. now.”

safe to say, you loved his new haircut. he loved his new haircut. he loved it even more when his friends and your friends couldn’t manage words. good. stay that way.

loser!heeseung was still a loser but, at least, he was in a hot man’s body with his very very attractive girlfriend. he still played league. he still larped. he still took the renaissance fair very seriously. he still loved you more than anything in the world. he was still your loser.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too!

[kitab00m101]

Holy- HOW IS THIS SO TRAUMATIZING (OP I LOVE YOU FOR THIS)

Adding onto some of them with headcanons of my own (TW selfharm-death-mental illness-blood❗️)-

Scott's skin bubbling and shifting constantly since he hasn't learned to control it yet. Grabbing at his own neck, almost strangling himself as he tries to press the gills shut. He can't think clearly, because he's never getting enough oxygen, even if he ever were to see water, he's damaged his gills so severely that he'll never properly breathe again, like so many people take for granted.

Not many people know this, but Jimmy is covered in bruises. When invisible, he trips over himself, bumps into things, as well as other people bumping into him. He's got a handful of bruises here and there because of that, but that's not why every inch of his arms and legs are black and blue. The panic he felt the first time he turned never really went away. Sometimes he'll wake up invisible, and for moments will forget about his ability. Sometimes, when he's in a really bad state, he'll hurt himself. He'll grab his arms tightly for hours on end, just reassure that they are actually there. His friends just assume that the bad people are rougher with Jimmy because he's usually more "rambunctious".

Imagine Martyn being put in isolation, with sound proof barriers when he gets his ability because the facility doesn't want him hearing things he shouldn't. He goes mad in. There are chips in his ears from him clawing at them. He's missing tufts of his hair. He used to scream so much when he first got his power, to the point where now his voice is permanently broken and wheezy. He used to hope that if he was loud enough, desperate enough, his cries could overpower All. That. Noise.

Imagine Ren subconsciously shifting to have certain features from Martyn, creeping out all their other friends, but they never tell him that. They know that he's been broken ever since they took Martyn away from him. As the months go on, Ren starts to forget his own features- but it doesn't matter. All he has to do is remember Martyn. His hair, his eyes, his smile. Ren doesn't have a smile of his own anymore, because the last time he smiled was at Martyn. He smiled back.

Scar finding out his power, and jokingly shadow boxing, saying how he's gonna take down any guard who messes with him or his friends- Then someone comes up behind him, and mid-punch he turns around, his fist making contact with Mumbo's shoulder. Scar freezes, but it's too late. Mumbo flies meters away, thrown to the ground. His arm is barely even connected to his body, there's blood pouring out of his mouth. Scar rushes to his friend's side, and goes pale at the sight of the man's flattened ribcage.

Later on, Cleo shoving the mindless corpses of Skizz and Mumbo around, acting like she could bully them into being normal again. Through the hallways, you can sometimes hear her crying- "Look at me- look at me Skizz!" "NO, No, no, no- Mumbo, I can fix you- I promise, just please lift up your head" "you're gonna be okay- you can still be with us, you don't have to go..."

The first time BigB summons a creaking, he's being escorted by a guard through a hall. He hears the footsteps coming up to them, and meets the creature’s eyes. The guard opens fire, only causing bullets to ricochet off its bark, while BigB stands there, never pulling his eyes from the creaking monster. He blinks for a millisecond, turning to run, and that's when he heard the guard's final breath. BigB watched as the branch through the man's chest lowered him to the ground. The creaking just kept looking at BigB, and it took him ages too long to realize that it would hurt everyone around but him.

Imagine Gem looking over her shoulder, and seeing Mumbo and Skizz for the first time in... too long. Shutting her eyes and contuining to walk. Calling herself crazy as tears start to form, until she feels a hand on her shoulder. She looks back and sees her own body, crumbled to the ground. When she uses her powers, her eyes seem to disappear, almost like Grian's black, void like eyes. She spends hours of her day crying into Skizz's arms while Mumbo tries his very hardest to give her words of comfort.

Tango's heart is always beating too fast, to the point where it'll start to hurt. The running helps relieve the pain, but it doesn't go away. When trapped in his cell, the camera's frame rate can't keep up with him. The screens in the security camera room just show four orange figures that change every could seconds, all of them with expressions of rage or desperation.

Lizzie attempting to make her escape, but as she runs down the halls, the screams of panicked from her friends disorient her. The guards eventually find her banging on the steel door of Joel's cell, screaming that she's sorry.

Imagine seeing Pearl with raw finger tips, sometimes with her entire palm covered in her own blood, and having no clue as to why until you walk into her cell, and see the claw marks in the concrete ceiling. Engravings from every time she'd had a breakdown and tried so hard to get to the open sky.

Etho always keeping his hands behind his back or in his pockets so the very thought of using his ability never crosses his mind.

Imagine Grian trying out each of his friends powers, and having to go through each and every single one of these torturous moments.

I JUST HAD A REALLY COOL IDEA FOR AN AU BASED ON THE NEW WILD LIFE EPISODE. HEAVY(?) ANGST UP AHEAD AND ALSO SPOILERS TO SESSION 7 SO BE WARNED!

LIFE SERIES MEMBERS BUT THEY GOT THEIR POWERS FROM LAB EXPERIMENTATION!!!!!

Okay I'm switching to lowercase so I'm not just screaming at you guys haha

[EDIT] Guess who’s fully elaborating on this AU with Subject files and a fic? :3

Project X Master Post

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Imagine Martyn curled up in the corner of his cell, covering his ears bc he doesn't know how to block things out and everything is so loud.

Imagine Scott transforming from an aquatic creature back to his regular form, but he still has gills, and he panics when he can't breathe.

Imagine Jimmy turning in invisible for the first time and not knowing how to turn back, and he thinks he's stuck that way forever.

Imagine Ren transforming the first few times, but there's always something off about him. He looks eerie, like something from uncanny valley.

Imagine Scar not knowing his own strength and jokingly punching Mumbo, only to send him flying into the wall and causing his death.

Imagine Cleo trying so hard to get Mumbo and Skizz to act the way that they used to when she summons them, but it's never truly them. Something is always wrong.

Imagine BigB being terrified when he summons the creaking for the first time, not realizing they're on his side and thinking they'll attack him.

Imagine Gem astral projecting as an escapism, talking to Mumbo and Skizz and "leaving" the facility, but she can't truly leave.

Imagine Impulse and Tango nearly getting to escape with their powers, their friends cheering them on from inside their cells, and just when they're in the clear, Impulse gets tranquilized and falls unconscious. Tango can't bare to leave his buddy behind. They both get collars that block their abilities and heavy monitoring after that stunt.

Lizzie feels bad about her power. She's tried to escape as well, but when she realized the blindness affected her friends, it freaked her out so much that security was able to catch up to her and take her back to her cell.

Imagine Bdubs sleeping diligently through every night and dealing with nightmares of the hell they've all been put through so his friends don't.

Imagine Pearl wishing she could fly out in the open air, desperate for that kind of freedom that she knows she will never have.

Imagine Etho trying to bring down his mace to pretend to hit Bdubs, and when he move to the side to dodge, it actually puts him in the way of Etho's strike. The absolute terror that fills Etho is so bad that he never jokes like that again, even if it barely hurt him.

Imagine Joel looking around and analyzing the rooms, thinking of how he could scale the walls with his ability to escape through an air vent, but he can never bring himself to do it because he refuses to leave Lizzie.

Imagine Grian being physically and emotionally strained trying to learn everyone's powers and how to properly use them, wishing he just had one of his own instead.

Imagine Skizz and Mumbo both dying (Skizz due to the intense tests and Mumbo due to the effects the testing had on Scar) before they had a chance to gain powers of their own. Don't imagine those powers being just what the group needs to escape.

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I think I might write each of these as a one shot. That would certainly be a LOT of fun :) lmk what you guys think please!

[gouraminnow]

May I request something with platonic yandere whitebeard and a toddler reader? Like I’m envisioning the crew somehow pick up a young child that recently lost her parents. And she’s traumatized and shy just holding onto dear life a stuffed bunny that is almost as big as her because she’s just so tiny. And poor baby can’t sleep is injured and hides from the crew. She is just so used to sleeping with said stuffed animal and in the same bed as her deceased parents. So she wonders into whitebeards quarters after she was supposed to be “asleep” somehow climbs up onto that giant bed and goes ah yes this feels right and familiar (probably didn’t help that the crew calls him pops and she is like pops? Like papa? I sleep with papa and mama. Mama and papa gone. I no like. New papa? New papa. My papa. Sleep now.) and just melts and cuddles up to him holding her bunny tight falling fast asleep.

Wow this is really specific. I mean this completely genuinely, have some of you anons considered making ocs/dipping your toes into writing yourselves? You've pretty much written your own scenario right here. I got back into writing by chatting with someone I sent long asks to, so I recommend giving it a shot if you're on the fence a all :)

Anyway!

The WBP are the most likely to actually adopt. Everybody else is kind of a deadbeat. Even still, I don't think they'd bring such a young kid along unless there was nowhere safe to drop her off nearby + somebody gets attached. Which is far from impossible.

This kid is either some sole survivor of something horrible, living with adopters deemed unfit for parenting(in which case they likely aren't long for this world), or the dead parents were already connected to the WBP in some way so WB feels some form of connection/responsibility already. Whatever the case, this tiny kid is brought on board.

Real shy like you said, tries to run and hide but won't let go of the massive bunny either so she doesn't get very far... probably does the little kid thing where she sits behind a box or a curtain and thinks she's hidden just because she can't see any of them. They'll humor it, it's better than such a young kid actually finding a proper hiding place and going unsupervised for lord knows how long. Plus it's pretty cute.

Regarding Whitebeard and the sleeping arrangements specifically... I really don't see things working out. First, the kid has to be able to stand the old man's snoring. But hey, I slept through blenders and fire alarms as a kid, so it's possible! But on the other hand...

If Whitebeard rolls over or hell, just moves an arm wrong, he could crush the poor kid. Luckily, he wakes up as soon as she curls up with him. Maybe even sooner, the pitter-patter of her little feet against the floor enough to get his attention. This is the guy who woke up to fend off Ace's knife attack at the last moment, after all. He stays still, making his mind up to scold his adult children for their lapse in care in the morning- she shouldn't be able to sneak by them. That's ridiculous.

But he's not a monster. He's not gonna kick the poor thing out, especially not if she hasn't done much else to get closer to anyone. She clambers her way up onto the bed, dragging the rabbit up with her as she curls up in the strip of space between his arm and his body. And the little whispered murmur of "Papa" once she settles gets him good. So he sighs, resigning himself to a sleepless night, slowly moving his massive hand closer to cradle the poor thing. It's enough to cover her and the rabbit both. He'll be scolded by Marco and the nurses for not getting his rest, and he'll scold his other children for letting the kid sneak into his room in the first place.

It's fine, though. If she insists on sleeping in Papa's room after that night, he has them move a smaller bed in next to his to minimize the risk of squishing. Kind of like a motorcycle side-car but. It's a bed.

[mrclairdycat]

Jayvik Headcanons! ٩( ᐛ )( ᐖ )۶

(You can use these for your fics, art or whatever, I don't mind! Tell me or tag me if you do though 'cause I'd love to see it/read it.)

Jayce is naturally good with kids. Viktor is awkward with them, but for some reason the kids love him. They often want touch or try his cane or ask curious questions and their parents deem it as disrespectful, but he always assures them they can and gladly lets them. He also loves to say playful lies like "Actually don't tell anybody this but I've acquired the powers to teleport. I just have to act like a normal human being among the public." Or, better yet, he tells them he's actually an alien. HOWEVER... Viktor hates newborns. He hates when he's forced to cradle them in his arms. Too much slobber, shit and vomit. You can't even talk to them and know there's some kind of understanding between you and them. Jayce, on the other hand, could have a baby shart in his arms and still be like "awww!" He also loves to play with them theatrically.

Viktor is a HUGE Doctor Who fan. It's basically all he ever watches. Jayce is more of a Holiday Movies guy or series with Comedy, Romance or both, especially soap operas, but he was once forced to watched Doctor Who and now he's hooked too.

Jayce is the only one who finds Viktor's dry and dark humor, especially directed at himself, funny. He finds it so refreshing since posh people's humor is extremely boring. Plus, he understands that Viktor would prefer making light of his bad situation to cope and it's not his place to tell him what to joke and not joke about.

Although they mostly lock in and work hard all night in the lab, the sleep deprivation makes them find ANYTHING funny. Sometimes they end up in an endless loop of laughing fits because both of them are so sleep deprived they can't properly say words anymore.

Speaking of, they probably share all their deepest secrets on a whim but don't remember anything the next day, as if they were totally drunk or something.

Also, they cover each other up if they find one of them has fallen asleep. Often times, however, Viktor finds himself magically spawning in his bed. He never thought much about it, figuring he was so exhausted he probably doesn't remember going home, when in reality it was Jayce that carried him home to make sure his body wouldn't be in pain in the morning.

When Viktor is mad at Jayce he abuses that disabled card. Sometimes he publically humiliates him by pretending he's a bad person that doesn't help his disabled friend with anything. In reality, if he tried to pick something that fell for him, he would be met with the smack of his cane.

Speaking of, acts of service is Jayce's way of flirting. He's an extrovert, but he's not confident at all. He never says his feelings first, just acts especially nice towards someone with numerous gifts, praise and help. Viktor thought he was just being ableist.

Again, speaking of, Viktor is more of a words of affirmation guy. However, when they got together, they have scheduled days within the week where Viktor HAS to accept help and be spoiled. He knows its Jayce's love language by now, so, even if he finds it condescending, he's happy to let him have those days to let it all out.

Sometimes Jayce presents Viktor a complex equation because he loves seeing him explain how to solve it. He just loves listening to him yap.

Viktor has a secret passion for astronomy. Can name you every star. Jayce has a secret passion for birdwatching. Can name you every bird. He'd also love falconry. Tbh he adores animals in general.

Viktor despises Astrology. Jayce loves it. He likes to piss him off by saying "You're acting like your sign right now."

Jayce loves pop and reggaeton, meanwhile Viktor thinks classical music is superior to anything else. He especially listens to it because it is scientifically proven it helps with focus. He hates when he wakes up in the morning to him cleaning and blasting El Taxi or something.

Viktor also loves theatre musicals. His favorites are Ride the Cyclone, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. He also loves plays like Hamlet or live orchestras.

Jayce is very good at cooking thanks to his mom's teachings. Plus he just really enjoys it. Viktor is the type who finds it a chore and eats only because he has to (he doesn't even do that most days). Jayce often brings extra food when he packs lunch so Viktor can have some too :) he also loves to cook for him.

Jayce is naturally good at dancing. Adores Just Dance and group dances (Viktor always wins Just Dance without even moving his legs). Viktor is naturally good at playing instruments. He likes to focus on what his hands can do so he can feel better about his bad leg.

Jayce loves head massages and scritches. He's a sucker for physical touch. Viktor likes to give him that while he's reading notes or a book.

Jayce is a dog person who has no problems with cats. Viktor is a cat person who kinda hates dogs since they drool all over the place and lick his face.

Viktor never cries, but when he does it's GUT wrenching because of all the bottled up emotions. Jayce, on the other hand, cries for absolutely anything, especially movies. He could see a child with their mom on a random stroll and shed tears saying "they're so happy :("

Ximena (Jayce's mom) adores Viktor. He always tells Jayce to invite him over whenever they can so he can spend less time alone and even encourages him to sleep over. She just can't bare the thought of someone's baby struggling on their own and not being taken care of.

Jayce mostly overthinks when he's trying to fall asleep. The silence is always broken by him spiraling saying things like "do you think I'm annoying?" simply for a stranger not responding after he complimented them or something. The thought of someone hating him drives him insane. He wants to be liked by everyone. People pleaser core.

[writing-till-i-am-dead]

Stargoth oneshot - Letter

It's not like Buddy liked Chase. He didn't. Honest, he really didn't. And you know he's being honest because he never lies... ok, well, he's lied a couple times.. actually, he's lied a lot. But he's really not lying about this. Because, what is there to like about this idiot? Because that is what he is, an idiot. Plain and simple. With his obviously fake blonde hair and forever-outside voice. The guy should just get the hell out of his way if he knows what's good for him. And that's what he's been telling him.

But he never thought Chase would actually listen.

3 weeks. 3 whole weeks since Chase has been in a book. This was starting to seriously piss him off. Where the hell was he? 

Now, reader, before you start getting ideas that Buddy actually misses Chase, you better think again. Chase has something he wants, the heroine key, and that is it. He just wants the key, so fuck off if you're questioning his honesty in the beginning. 

"Buddy?" calls out a voice, to which Buddy immediately jumped. But don't think he was excited! Or startled. He was merely jumped into action to follow it. However, he quickly realized that wasn't the voice of the blonde, but rather the even more unbearable brunette. 

"What are you doing with the heroine key?" Buddy asks, leaning against the stone archway. He looks around. Another high-fantasy novel with a castle. He's starting to figure out who's the one choosing these books in the first place.

Deacon whips his head around to face Buddy. "Geez. How do you do that?"

"Hm? Do what?"

"Just.. appear out of nowhere? Like you're teleporting or something?"

Buddy scoffed. This idiot really thought he was teleporting? As if someone could top Chase's idiocy. "You still haven't answered my question."

Deacon sighs. "Chase has been.. whining, lately."

Buddy scoffs. "When is he not?"

This got a chuckle from the brunette.

"You guys had some sort of fight in the last book you did together?"

Buddy raised an eyebrow and tried to remember. But, he and Chase would always fight, so he couldn't remember any of the specifics. "Probably."

Deacon rubbed his face, clearly frustrated. Deacon seemed to get peeved with Chase a lot, which gave Buddy a sick satisfaction. Not because he's jealous, of course not. But because if the two don't work well together, it'll be easier to make them crack. Give him information. Stop trying to twist his words.

Deacon groaned. "Well, something you said seriously offended him and he's refusing to use Silver, and has been using Bronze, instead."

Buddy felt his eye twitch, Deacon noticing and taking a step back. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger."

"What did I say that could've offended him that badly?!"

"Hey, you know how fragile his ego is."

Buddy makes a light 'tsk' and puts his hands on his hips. "Well this definitely is.. annoying." Before you think I'm annoyed because now I won't see him, that is not the reason. It's annoying because Chase was a much bigger slip up than his ugly, freckled companion. Buddy can extract more information from him. 

"Tell me about it. We've had lots of trouble collecting narratonin now, since the heroine key.. yknow.. summons you."

Buddy raises an eyebrow. "Well, then. He must not be that determined to collect it, huh?"

"Don't talk like that, Buddy. You don't know. He's been telling me to use the key, as long as I go into different books. But I just haven't wanted to deal with you on my own."

Buddy nods in agreement. "I would rather rip my hair out then be alone with you."

"Look. All I ask is you apologize."

"Look," Buddy says, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't even know what it is I said that is worth an apology."

"It was something about his singing, I think? And the narratonin? He gets really heated everytime he talks about it and then shuts down.

Ya, that did sound familiar. Buddy rubbed his temples in an attempt to remember.

"Snap and clap and touch your toes! Raise your hands, now body roll! Dance it out, you're hot to gooooo!!"

"CAN YOU STOP THAT!?" Buddy snaps. "You've been singing that tune all day!"

Chase rolls his eyes. "You are just jealous of my singing."

"Oh trust me, I am anything but. You're singing is like nails on a chalkboard. Grating and makes me wish I didn't have ears! You better hope you collect enough narratonin fast, before too many people are cursed to have listen to your voice and will never give you another chance to sing, even when you use the narratonin to make you bearable to listen to!"

....

Chase left the story after he said that. But Buddy hadn't sweat it too much. Why would he? They always bicker. But based on the look that Deacon was giving him, he could tell that he had screwed up.

"That's.. definitely too far, Buddy."

"I- How was I supposed to know he'd take it to heart?!"

Deacon shakes his head. "Look, whatever. You can't take back what you said and that's fine. But you can at least make up for it. Maybe write him a letter? The bedroom I woke up in the basement had a desk and some paper. Maybe go write something in there?"

Buddy raises a brow before tilting his head back. "Fine! Whatever. Only because of my own reasons, though! Not because I feel bad. Don't go and get the wrong idea!" he calls out as he enters back into the castle, bulldozing through guards.

"Move, move, Evil Queen, make way." He reads down the spiral staircase, twists and turns, twists and turns. By the time his feet hurt in his heeled shoes, he finally reached the basement.

The room felt all too familiar. Small, box shaped with a thick layer of dust on every surface. A creaky bed, about as soft as a rock, and blankets covered in bed bugs. This... was why he didn't really want the heroine key. Of course, he's still going to retrieve it. It's part of his job. But he will never use it. He's already got a crappy life. Why make himself live through another's?

He sits himself in a creaky oak chair, which gave him a few splinters, causing him to flinch. A small pile of thick paper and a quill with mostly dried out ink. But, still good to use. He wish he knew why his words upset Chase so much. Not because he genuinely feels bad, but because it would make this letter less of a hassle to write. He scribbles up in the corner of the parchment to check if the ink works. He then taps a couple of times in an effort to think of what to write. Buddy, despite all of his time dedicated to reading books, has never been good at words. Things never come out right and he always overthinks it, always adding parenthesis and commas to make his point more clear, out of the fear he's not being explicit enough.

"Dear Chase,

I still cannot believe that you let slip what your name was. You truly are 

I apologize that my words had offended you. I may not know what you plan to do with the narratonin, probably something stu. Your singing is really not that bad. It only makes me want to claw my ears off a little. I do think that you can have a big audience if you put your voice out there, with or without the narratonin.

-Sincerely, 'buddy'"

Buddy stared at the letter, questioning everything he wrote, but decided it was... good enough.. ya, it's not like Chase is worth that kind of effort.. 

He folds up the paper and stuck it into his back pocket. He looked up the staircase once more and let's out a long sigh as he made the long trip once more. Twists and turns galore with each step. The guards quickly moved as to not get pushed out of the way again. He found the ugly boy standing outside, waiting for him. He shoved the letter into his chest. "Here."

Deacon let's out a huff and nods. "All right. I'll see you later, Buddy."

Buddy simply just rolls his eyes. "Whatever."

The boy pulls out the Helper Key, wrapped around his neck, and the he's gone. Buddy looks at the spot where he had disappeared before mentally scolding himself for being so hopeful.

~~~~

It's not like Chase liked Buddy. He didn't. Because what is there to like about that jerk? He's an aggressive prick who does nothing but provoke him. With his incredible eyeliner and deep voice... He should just leave Chase alone. And that's what he's been telling him.

So he stopped bothering and has been properly avoiding him. 

Ho could he not? It wasn't the comment about his singing, although that had hurt, but the fact that Buddy thinks he's so shallow that being famous is Chase's biggest concern. And the way Buddy said it didn't ound like just a jab because he was mildly annoyed. It sounded genuine. Like her really thinks so low of Chase. Maybe Chase took it so seriously is because earlier in the day, before he said that, Chase had visited his mom. 

His moping is interrupted by a knocking at his door. He looks up and sees his cousin, Deacon, standing in the doorway.

"Where were you?" Chase asks. Deacon hands him a paper. 

"It's from Buddy."

Chase sucked in a breath. Buddy. Buddy!? Buddy sent him a letter? 

His heart was racing and his hands were clammy. No way. No. Way. Why was he getting so excited. Stop it, heart!! He pats his chest a couple of times to ease his rapid heart rate before he folded the paper open.

He scanned through the words, squinting as he made out some of the scribbled out sentences, and he finishes it off with a deep frown.

"What's with that face?" Deacon asks.

"This is kind of a crappy apology. There are multiple scratched out sentences that was just him being petty."

Deacon takes the paper and reads over it. "Hm. I mean.. ya, it seems kind of backhanded, but at the same time, since when has Buddy gone out of his way to do something like this i the first place?"

"You probably just told him to do it."

"Ya.. but what about the fact that he actually listened?"

Chase froze and looks back at the letter, feeling his face flush slightly. Damnit. He had a good point. He crumbles up the letter and was about to toss it into the trash, but stopped himself and instead tossed it onto his desk.

"Give me my key."

Deacon smirks.

"Don't smile at me like that."

Deacon quickly stifles it and hands Chase the key. Chase gets up ad grabs a totally random book and crams the key into the cover. The last thing he heard was, "Wait, not that book!"

Chase's eyes opened and the first thing he's met with is excruciating pain. He's impaled. He screams at the top of his lungs and standing over him is Buddy, whose eyes are equally as wide as he stares down at Chase. 

"What kind of book did you choose?!" Buddy exclaims, quickly pulling the spear out of Chase's chest, who's left panting and throbbing in pain. Buddy squats down and looks over him. "Deep breaths. The main character of this book has healing powers."

Chase tightly close his eyes and feels the gash slowly close up. He lays down in the ground, panting. "SHIT! I just needed to talk to you. Just my luck."

Buddy chuckles, actually chuckles, which feels like another stab to the heart, but kind of in a good way???

"You got excited to see me?" Buddy asks.

Chase scoffs. "I just came to talk to you about that letter."

Buddy goes quiet. "Hm. You seem upset? Was it not to your liking, your majesty?"

"Eat a sock," Chase grumbles.

Chase sits up, holding himself by his elbows. "What kind of book opens with the heroine getting stabbed?" Chase grumbles.

Buddy shrugs and looks around at the wasteland they were in. "Well.. what did you think of the letter? You still mad at me?"

Chase pauses before huffing. "Nevermind. I just wanted to say it sucked. I would keep avoiding you if it weren't for Silver, like.. begging me to go back to using her."

"Mhm?"

"Mhm!"

Chase stands up. Buddy does too.

It's not like they liked each other. They just had a story to complete. They just happen to.. do it together.

Shut up.

divider by @saradika-graphics

[morgannalefey]

I'm going to try one more time because I'm I dunno a glutton for punishment or something. I don't have a lot of hope, though. My impression is that most folks aren't actually reading everything I have to say and are, at best, skimming. Which, to be fair, is par for the course on this site. For this reason there's a tl;dr at the end you can jump to if you're so inclined. The rest of this post is pretty long in order to explain, but if you don't really care about the explanation and just want to be horrified, go for it.

I'm fifty nine years old. I have been married for thirty six years. Prior to that marriage, I had been with a lot of different people in the 8 years between when I became sexually active and I got my spouse. So I am not inexperienced in either sexual encounters, problems relating to sexual relations, relationships (both long and short term), nor differences in hygiene habits.

In response to your incredulity over people's learned behaviors fading over time:

Habits of childhood can be difficult to unlearn. It's possible to make an effort to change a habit, but then for other things to come up that distract and the change gets forgotten in favor of the muscle memory from childhood. There are many things that I've learned over time that are better ways to do a thing, but sometimes still forget that I've learned a better way and resort to how I originally did the thing. There are many reasons why this might happen such as distractions or having too many things to think about so my body operates on autopilot for some things. If this continues for a while, one typically loses the new habit and has to relearn the new way of doing things. Though it does tend to come back faster than the initial attempt did, it's still a conscious effort that has to be made.

Back to the main point. The assumption I'm attempting to address here is the one where everyone learns all the same basic hygiene lessons and that no one could ever have any reason for not having learned to make sure to wash their privates all the way down to and including the perineum and anal area. This assumption carries a whole lot weight. Here's a partial list of things being assumed:

That they have a parent or family member who has taught them how to clean themselves well.

That the family had water that was safe to wash thoroughly in most of the time.

That the family had the money to pay for the water bills and didn't deliberately avoid certain washing rituals because of the cost of water.

That they had present family members at all.

That they weren't living unhoused for part or most of their childhood, making washing (and especially washing the private parts) less common or safe to do because showers and such weren't always available and washing on the street could get one arrested.

This is a list of situations I can think of off the top of my head that might mean a person wasn't really taught how to clean themselves properly or that might have prevented them developing the habit. It is hardly exhaustive.

Because I recognize that people have very different lived experiences than I have had, when I'm faced with a situation like has been mentioned in this thread, I'd be more likely to just ask some questions or try to have a conversation about it. As I said before, assuming that the relationship was otherwise a good one. No one is perfect and if I threw out an entire, very good, loving, and supportive relationship because of discovering a situation in my spouse's upbringing that was weird and a little gross to me, I wouldn't still be with my spouse. If, after talking with them, it turns out that they're just a lazy, dirty person who won't even try learning a new way to exist in order to not make their partner sick, that's a completely different situation.

Now that being said, I've broken up with a guy because of how he chewed (I could not stand it, his whole family chewed like that. Even the slightest possibility of having to spend my life around those people gave me the screaming willies. Still, I did mention it to him and he was unwilling to adjust how he chewed for me. So that was it). I've broken up with guys because I couldn't stand how they smelled even after showering.

I'm not saying it's not a break up worthy offense to not keep one's privates clean for one's partner. I'd probably be far less inclined to talk to him if he were an occasional partner, not a "boyfriend" but "boyfriend" suggests a certain degree of emotional entanglement that usually means one has put some effort into the relationship. It just seems extreme to not even talk to the boyfriend about the issue to see how they respond and instead to just dump them, but maybe that can be chalked it up to my extreme old age.

tl;dr Not everyone learns exactly the same lessons about washing their privates. Basic hygiene is a skill that has to be taught, it is not instinctive. Not everyone grew up with the same resources, family, water, time, as everyone else. The term "boyfriend" seems more involved than "fuck buddy" and so taking the time to talk to the boyfriend about something that's bothersome doesn't seem like an unreasonable course of action.

[pppeachyyys]

you're my seasons - akaashi keiji

✩ synopsis - in which the regular walk home with akaashi from school suddenly takes a twist, and turns out it's for the better.

✩ tags! fluff, mutual pining, veryyy self indulgent / focuses on readers pov, inspo by seasons. by wave to earth, winter walks!!!, gn neutral however reader is hinted at being shorter once

the walk home from school is silent. the only sounds that fill your ears is the crunch of leftover snow and occasional sniff due to the chilly air. 

as always, you're walking with akaashi. it was the norm, you study in the library or go to clubs and wait for him to finish practice. you exchange small talk with him before walking home together in a comforting silence. 

it has been like this since the third year of junior high; you and akaashi are still good friends that simply enjoy the company of each other. 

akaashis eyes don't tear away from what's in front of him, but his words are directly looking at you. "despite there not being much snow, it's still freezing." he comments. you simply nod, your fingers reaching to clutch your scarf. 

the friendship you guys shared was polite. it was nothing like the way bokuto would launch his sweaty self all over the setter, it was nothing like the way his two managers would tease and poke fun at him. 

it could be perceived as gentle; however, it felt like restraint. you were scared to reach out for him the way his other friends do. you want to lean your head on his shoulder, weave your fingers with his nimble ones, stare into his eyes for hours.

there's no way you view akaashi as a friend. but you believed that he simply saw you as a companion to experience tranquility with, nothing more nor nothing less.

you don't want it to be silent, so you respond. "i didn't expect it to be this windy." 

he notices the way your palms fist together in an attempt to find warmth. his head doesn't move, but his pupils dart over to watch your actions. 

"are your hands cold, y/n?"

the street feels icy. with every step you take, you feel your legs wobble in search for a foundation to keep you from slipping. he's quick to notice this as well. 

"yeah. i'll just stuff them into my pockets, even if it doesn't help much." 

just as you're about to insert your hands into the pockets of your blazer, the front of akaashi's palm is quick to brush against yours. you want it bask in that teasing touch more, but you instinctively pull away.

now you can feel his eyes on you but you don't exchange his look back. are his brows furrowed? would he have a smile on his face? you refuse to answer your question.

"y/n, you don't need to run away from me." 

the walk suddenly comes to a stop. you're now facing him and hes facing you. "what is that supposed to mean?" you ask. 

every sentence is followed with steam whispering into the air. it's now truly silent, and there's nothing to listen to.

that is until akaashi speaks once more. his nose and ears are pink from the chill. "it's okay if we're closer. this distance we have right now... don't you feel like it's getting in the way?"

there is no possible way he is saying these words just to say it, and you're sure of it. gunmetal pigmented eyes are locked right onto your own and the both of you don't want to escape from it. without thinking twice, you're quick to give him a response.

"if we got closer, i think i won't be able to see you as just a friend."

"what if i want us to be closer?"

you realize it's not silent and it's actually loud. your heart is pounding so rapidly that it's almost like each beat can be heard; you think that you can hear akaashi's heart too. it's in sync, there's a connection that desires to eliminate any space or obstacle.

"could i ask you if we can be more than friends, y/n? i want more of what we have and get farther into it. so please, tell me how you feel."

not only is it loud, but it's getting warm. the two of you feel heat rushing around the body. you think the adrenaline is causing you to reach towards him, or maybe it's because he's finally told you the truth. 

in mere seconds that feel like eternity, you stand on your tippie toes and take in his warmth, your lips meeting his and it almost feels perfect. one of his hands go over to the back of your head and the other against your back in an attempt to keep you from slipping. in response to his yearning, your fingers paw at his blazer draped onto his broad chest.

this touch feels ethereal. the proximity eliminated, the only feeling and thought left being love. you don't want this to end, and he doesn't let you go.

with a whisper of the air, his lips pull away from yours and he feels so fufilled. a small smile blooms on his face. 

it still feels cold, silent, and tranquil; however, there is a sense of satisfaction laid onto the scene. akaashi believes he's in love, and you  are the one to give it to him.

[yezhi1k]

Flowers & Cherries chp.2 (Jinx x Reader)

Notes: alrighty, we have finished chapter two! Apologies in advance for any typos, I am very very very bad at proofreading. This is a SFW chapter! As per the last chapter, this one is also on AO3 (MisanthropicMoose).

Summary: Your partnership with Silco and your friendship with Jinx have been going great for months. That is, until Silco makes an absolutely outlandish proposition, and Jinx seem to know something you don't.

CW: description of needles/injections

That night, the Last Drop was a chaos of blaring music, strobing neon lights and sweaty bodies writhing against one another in motions loosely resembling dance. Sitting at the bar, you occasionally glanced out into the crowd, fruitlessly trying to focus on someone or something in particular, only for your vision to once again be overtaken by a cacophony of vibrant stimuli. It definitely didn’t help that every time you got to the bottom of your glass, a new one, filled to the brim, seemed to appear in front of you as if by magic. You weren’t in the habit of binge drinking under normal circumstances, but you haven’t had a night off in so long that you were practically itching for a hangover. Your head was spinning, and with every gulp the worries of the previous months melted away. You felt good. Alive.

As you brought the rim of your glass to your lips again your gaze shifted from the crowd back to Jinx. She sat on a bar stool next to yours, legs swinging rhythmically, sipping on something from a tall glass through a straw. You wondered if whatever she was consuming was even alcoholic. From the way she stayed perfectly sober after several portions of the mystery liquid, you assumed it wasn’t. Or maybe this girl could hold her liquor like no one you’ve ever seen.

“So, he comes up to me and goes, ‘Freeze! You’re under arrest!’. And I went, ‘Actually, you are under arrest!’. And he got all confused, had this stupid look on his face,” Jinx grimaced, presumably imitating the man in question, then took a big sip of her drink. You watched as she reached for the straw with her mouth, the way her lips wrapped around it, throat bobbing as she drank. You felt your mouth go dry, and suddenly a warmth was rising to your cheeks. It was just the alcohol doing its thing, you thought to yourself. Just the alcohol.

You cleared your throat.

“And what happened then?” you asked. Jinx’s eyes met yours, and for a second you read genuine confusion in them before she seemed to recollect the topic of the conversation again.

“Ah, well while he stood there looking all dumb, I chucked a bomb at him. And he exploded. And died. That’s sort of how all my stories end if I am being honest,” she stated matter-of-factly, but you could have sworn you saw her face drop a little.

Your brows furrowed. You knew a little about Jinx’s history, about Vander and the kids. You felt sad for them, for her. Someone told you the story once, and, at the time, it was sobering. It was one of those stories that taught you that power in the Undercity always changed hands violently, and that no one, especially not the innocents, was safe from the violence. Such a tragic waste too. From what you heard, Vander and Silco were very close once.

You shook your head a little, trying to rid it of somber thoughts. That was the past, the past that had nothing to do with you, the past you couldn’t change no matter how much you tried. There was no point in dwelling on it, not on one of your scarce nights off, not when you had a new friend sitting across from you.

“You okay?” Jinx seemed to notice your discomfort. She placed a hand on your shoulder and looked inquisitively into your face. You gave her the best smile you could manage, but you knew perfectly well that in your inebriated state it came out weird and crooked.

“Yeah. Just need to lay off the booze for a bit, I think,” you groaned, pushing the half-empty glass away lightly. Jinx’s hand was still on your shoulder, and you noticed her rubbing small circles with her thumb. It felt good. Comforting.

“Well,” Jinx’s hand travelled down your arm and grasped your slightly larger hand in hers, “I want to dance!”.

With that, she hopped off her bar stool, dragging you down with her. You were too drunk to object as she dragged you onto the dance floor. You just followed the sight of two blue braids swinging behind her, letting her drag you by the hand wherever she pleased. When you finally made it, you tried your best to steady yourself on your feet, dodging the sporadically moving people surrounding you. The next song started playing over the speaker. A man was rapping in a language you didn’t understand.

Suddenly, Jinx’s face came back into view. She was standing in front of you, having let go of your arm now. Everything else faded away, sounds became muffled. You could only make out the beat of the base, and as Jinx started moving, no, flowing around you, you mimicked her movements the best you could. Your body nearly missed collision with hers as you slithered around one another, fingertips sliding over one another ever so slightly. Blue ribbons of hair flowed behind her, circling her body, and you found yourself mesmerized by them. As she came closer, you could feel her heat, somehow different from the heat of every other body around you. In that moment, no one else existed. Only her, flashing lights, and the base of the song. It was entrancing, intoxicating, almost meditative.

The magic ended as you tripped over somebody’s foot and started on your trajectory face-first to the floor. Thankfully, your fall was interrupted as Jinx moved in closer to you, propping you up.

“You know, for someone so allegedly badass, you are quite clumsy!”

The song playing now was much louder, and Jinx was shouting over the music now, a wide grin plastered on her face as she looked at you mockingly. You regained your balance and let go of her.

“I just… I just can’t really dance,” you shouted back, trying not to let your embarrassment show.

Thank God for the mind-altering properties of alcohol. If it wasn’t for them, you would’ve been burning alive with shame right now. Instead, you started shuffling and flailing around wildly, trying to match the erratic rhythm of the music. Jinx watched you with a cocked head, openly giggling at your antics. When she had enough, she took your hand in hers again and dragged you back to your seats at the bar.

“I think that’s enough of that,” she laughed, “If people find out Smeech has such an epic dancer as his right hand, he might get too full of himself”.

The reminder of Smeech suddenly jolted you out of your drunken haze. Your eyes somehow regained the ability to focus, and you scanned your surroundings thoroughly, trying to see if anyone was shooting you weird glances. The Last Drop was a relatively safe place for people like you, people rarely did their dirty work in, or anywhere around, the place. But you still always had to be on the lookout. For goons from rivalling gangs, for spies, for assassins that could be tracking you down.

Your change of demeanor didn’t go unnoticed by Jinx.

“No, no, no,” she pouted, shaking you lightly by the shoulders, “don’t go all professional mode on me. I like you drunk and cute”.

You took one final look around the place. Satisfied with the fact that no one seemed to pay the two of you any mind, you shot Jinx an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. Force of habit.”

The blue-haired woman climbed back up on the bar stool, put and elbow on the table and leant her head on her hand.

“What do you have to worry about, anyway? You are essentially Smeech’s Sevika and I am, well, Silco’s Jinx. No one in their right minds would fuck with us.”

“If only everyone around was in their right mind.”

Over the next several months, you have settled into a bit of a rhythm. Your meetings with Silco were relocated from the empty chem baron meeting room to his own office. The transition was a little bit unsettling for you; after all, having to enter what was essentially the most dangerous room in the entire Undercity couldn’t be comfortable. The first time you showed up, a tall, muscular woman in a conspicuous cloak blocked your path and glared down at you in a way that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You knew of Sevika, of course. You knew what kind of lethal appendage was hidden under that burgundy cloak. Being in the presence of such raw physical power made you feel incredibly small, despite the fact that you knew your reputation was comparable to hers, albeit for different reasons. You introduced yourself to her and made the dangerous move of initiating a handshake. Thankfully, she used her human hand.

You and Silco have developed a close partnership, tweaking your deals whenever the need came up. Smeech’s protection services of Silco’s shimmer transportation routes became a permanent arrangement, proving to be more than profitable for the both of you. Having to do business with Silco kept you sharp; your collaboration did not mean that he was willing to be charitable, and you had to keep your foot firmly planted to ensure that your goons were not getting cheated out of their share. You harbored no illusions; Silco was a slippery, cunning man and most definitely not your friend.

The same could not be said about Jinx. Though you understood the conflict of interest that arose from your friendship, whenever she would catch up to you in the alleyway leading out of Silco’s quarters and beg you to hang out, you couldn’t say no. You weren’t sure whether this was entirely due to your affection for her as a person, or whether it was some strange unfulfilled older sibling complex left behind after the death of your family. Either way, you liked spending time with her. And you could say that you simply got cocky enough to allow yourself such pleasantries without worrying about the opinion of the criminal world. Being friendly with a member of a rivalling gang was the least scandalous affair in your circles.

The two of you would often meet at the Last Drop, though you would sometimes pop into Jinx’s workshop and watch her work on various projects. She never built weapons in front of you, you assumed under instruction from Silco. That made sense. And you didn’t feel like making things awkward by saying the quiet part out loud.

All went smoothly, until it didn’t.

One afternoon, as you were on your usual stroll to Smeech’s office, you heard a short, sharp whistle emanate from a nearby alleyway. You recognized the signal – Silco needed to speak to you. You approached the alleyway cautiously, and as you peered in you were able to make out Sevika’s looming figure. The two of you stared at each other for a moment.

“Is something the matter?” you asked. A sheer layer of cold sweat suddenly coated your palms. You had set times and dates for meeting Silco, the routine had been uninterrupted for months at that point. If he went out of his way to send Sevika for you, something out of the ordinary must have occurred. And in your experience, out of the ordinary was, more often than not, trouble.

Sevika made a beckoning gesture and retracted further into the alleyway, being quickly engulfed by the darkness. You followed. It was cool and humid in there, and the skin on your forearms erupted in goosebumps. Your eyes haven’t yet adjusted, and you stretched out your arm, trying to navigate, until you felt your fingers brush a mound of something, covered in fabric. You snatched your hand back; that was Sevika.

“Silco has requested you come see him tonight,” Sevika started in a hushed tone, “Come alone, don’t tell anyone where you are going. Not the goons, not Smeech, no one, understand?”

You squinted in the direction of her voice, trying to make out her figure.

“Why so urgently?” you asked, “Our next meeting was scheduled for Thursday.”

An annoyed huff reached you from the dark.

“Because he said so.”

You had nothing to retort. If Silco wanted to see someone, they had better come running. That was just the law of nature around here. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Sevika spoke again. Her tone seemed to have marginally softened, maybe she took pity on you. She could probably tell how nervous you were getting.

“Seriously, I don’t know. Silco’s planning something, but he’s not telling any of us yet. Except for Jinx, probably,” you noticed an edge of disdain in the latter part of her sentence. It was, famously, Sevika’s job to clean up Jinx’s messes, so the fact that she was always more in the know about Silco’s plans than even his right hand must have been infuriating.

You shifted on your feet, mind racing, trying to piece together as much as a theory. Silco was always planning something, no doubt about that. But why did he feel the need to talk to you, of all people? You were not his goon. You held your own set of interests. Was he seeking your council? Support? These were ambitious suggestions, to put it nicely. You were great at solo assassinations and business negotiation, but that’s where your list of exceptional strengths ended. You were not a raid strategist, you had nothing to offer him in that regard. You had no intel on any Piltover adjacent affairs. If he was seeking you specifically, it must have been something concerning Smeech. But what could that possibly be? To your knowledge, everything was going smoothly between your respective gangs. Were you wrong? Oh God, did Smeech fuck something up?

While you stood there, trying to collect your thoughts, you felt Sevika’s cloak brush your side. She didn’t say another word, just slithered past you and out into the acid-hue light of the Undercity. You were now alone in the dark, listening to water droplets fall monotonously somewhere deep in the alley.

Okay.

Okay.

There was no point in panicking just yet. You had no information to work with. Silco always had a flare for the theatrical, perhaps he just felt like disturbing your peace to keep you on your toes. Remind you of your place, and such. Maybe he has a new urgent deal to negotiate.

Having decided on that hypothesis, you slowly emerged from the alley and continued on your way. You found yourself with your hands shoved deep into your trouser pockets, kicking an empty can down the street as you walked. What was it? What could it be?

Nightfall came quickly, and you were now standing in front of Silco’s office door, trying to steady your breaths. Be cool, be cool. It’s just another meeting. It’s just Silco.

‘Just Silco’? Have you lost your fucking mind? The man will let his shimmer-pumped mutations rip you apart for looking at him weird. He will gut you, armpit to asshole, and then go to dinner with Jinx like nothing fucking happened.

You should have left a final note, you thought to yourself as the door to Silco’s office opened and you stepped in.

You found Silco sitting in his high-back plush chair, as usual. But to your horror, he wasn’t leisurely exhaling rings of smoke, as he usually did. Both of his elbows were planted on the table, he was leaning forward slightly. His jaw was tense. He was tense.

You shot Sevika, who was holding the door open for you, a pleading look. You didn’t know what you were pleading for, precisely. You knew she wouldn’t protect you. If anything, if you were to die in this room tonight, she would be the one to finish you off. She didn’t react to your silent cry for help, but you could have sworn you saw her eyebrow twitch. Did she still not know why you were here?

You were now standing in front of the Eye of Zaun. The flame in his obsidian eye burned you alive, you suddenly felt small. Vulnerable. Naked, even. You were trapped, had nowhere to run or hide, no one knew where you were. No one would come to help.

“Take a seat,” the man gestured to a chair opposite him. You approached it, legs suddenly the consistence of gelatine, and lowered yourself onto it in the most collected way you could manage.

A heavy silence filled the room, interrupted only by the ticking of a clock somewhere out of sight. You could barely hear it over the sound of blood rushing to your temples. You felt a migraine start coming on. You suddenly wanted to cry, not from sadness or even fear for your life, but out of frustration. You have done so many jobs, put your ass on the line so often, ran as fast as you could on the shitty fucking hamster wheel of assassinations, robberies, meetings, missions, just to stay afloat. To stay alive. And now, now that you finally got good at it, now that you finally pulled Smeech’s whole gang and yourself out the vat of shit you’ve been stewing in for years by your own fucking hair, this smug, scrawny, deformed fucker was going to take it all from you? And you couldn’t even put up a fight? What a waste, what a massive, insufferable waste! Of time, of blood, of life! If you knew it would end like this, you would’ve just laid down in that rubble with the rest of your family and froze to death. Now you wouldn’t even get to visit their graves for the last time.

“Do you like working for Smeech?”

Silco’s words sliced through the tantrum in your mind like a knife. Your brain fell deathly quiet. All that remained was a throbbing vein on your forehead, and dull pain spreading to the back of your skull. What did he say?

“What?”

“I said, do you like working for Smeech?”

The headache was now roaring like a forest fire. Feeling like you’ve got nothing to lose, you brought your fingers to both temples and massaged them roughly, closing your eyes.

“He is my boss. Working for him is what I do. Whether I like it or not doesn’t matter,” you muttered through gritted teeth. Your eyes were still closed, and you heard Silco shift in his chair. That’s it. He was coming to slit your throat.

You listened to him get up and walk behind you. You stayed seated. There was no point fighting. A wave of exhaustion, the like of which you have never felt before, crashed over you. Your temples rang.

A feeling of cold fingers on both of your temples jolted you out of your trance, like a bucket of ice water being tipped all over you. You tried to rip out of your seat, but Silco’s elbows came down on your shoulders sharply, keeping you in place. He rubbed small, gentle circles over your temples, and a sob choked in your throat. What the fuck was he doing? Couldn’t he just kill you normally and be done with it?

“Do you want something for the pain?” his voice cascaded down on you in muffled waves. You looked up at him. You knew there were tears glistening in your eyes, and under any other circumstances you would’ve been embarrassed, but you were way too tired for that. Without thinking, you nodded.

Silco glanced over at Sevika and cocked his head towards a cupboard propped up against the far-left wall. She opened it, and after a few moments of rummaging extracted a vile of neon purple, sparking liquid, and a syringe. Shimmer. You instinctively tried to rip out of Silco’s grasp again. You hated the thought of taking shimmer yourself, as hypocritical as it seemed when considering yours and Silco’s arrangements. You’ve seen what bad strands did to people. One particularly bad month several years ago, after a bad batch hit the market, you had to put down several of your goons as they descended into madness. Silco’s grip stayed firm.

“Don’t worry,” he assured, applying some more pressure to your temples, “It’s a pain killer. Completely safe. I take it all the time for my eye.”

The pain was so bad now you could barely move your jaw. All you could do was watch through heavy eyelids as Sevika inverted the vile several times, inserted the needle of the syringe into it and pulled back the plunger. She held the syringe needle up and tapped it several times, bringing any bubbles to the top. She then pushed the plunger, letting a small amount of liquid shoot out, taking the remaining bubbles with it. By all accounts, you thought, they were trying to inject you safely.

As Silco let go of your head and moved in front of you, he held out his hand in Sevika’s general direction. You saw her eyes widen in confusion a bit before dropping the syringe into his palm. He was going to inject you himself, it seemed. How sweet. He lied to you. It’ll probably make you go crazy, make your brain go all mushy bananas.

“I’m doing this intravenously,” Silco muttered, squatting down next to you and rolling up your sleeve, “Because Singed found that this stuff gets digested too quickly to make it to your brain. It’s different for the eye. Its right there, you just inject it, and it works.”

You winced a little as he pushed the needle into your vein. The purple liquid seeped into you as he pushed the plunger carefully.

“Why are you doing this?” every syllable took all your concentration and still came out wonky, “If you are going to kill me, just do it.”

His blue eye found yours, eyebrow lifted in barely registrable surprise.

“Who said anything about killing you? I want you to stop being in pain so we can talk.”

The shimmer was coursing through your veins now in glowing purple streaks under the skin. With every passing second, the pain ceased. Your vision cleared, and as you blinked away the last of your tears you saw Silco discard the syringe in a little bin next his desk and sit back down in his chair. You were now being re-filled with energy, and the embarrassment you were too exhausted to care about before now raged through you. You cried in front of him. In front of Silco. You found yourself wishing he had killed you.

Silco watched as life poured back into you.

“Do you have these episodes often?”

“Only when I’m really stressed.”

“Do you get this stressed often?”

“No, this is the first in a while.”

“And why were you so stressed just now?”

You breathed out through your nose slowly.

“Because I thought you were going to kill me. And I didn’t know what for.”

Silco studied you for a moment, then nodded slowly, seemingly satisfied with your honesty. He tapped the desk with his fingers.

“I called you here today,” he started, looking at you intently, “Because I want you to join my team.”

You blinked, struggling to understand what was happening. The pain was almost entirely gone now, but you were afraid your cognitive abilities were still lagging behind.

“But,” you stated carefully, “I work for Smeech.”

“I know. I want you to leave him, and start working for me,” he gestured towards himself.

Your eyes narrowed.

“With all due respect, I am not a rat. Smeech is not the best boss, I’ll admit, everyone knows that. I have a hard time working for him, he is lazy and incompetent. But he took me in. He put a roof over my head, clothes on my back, food in my stomach. Back, when I had nothing to show for myself. I worked hard to help make our gang what it is today, and I will not abandon it. I believe that the only way to build something worthwhile is through patience and integrity. Smeech is my cross to bear,” you realized that that must have been the longest you have ever talked at Silco. He didn’t interrupt, only listened closely, taking in what you were saying diligently. When you were done, he pulled out a cigar from the top drawer of his desk and lit it. A familiar scent of smoke filled the room.

“I don’t doubt your loyalty,” he sent a ring of smoke in your general direction, “Loyalty is the most important thing, I value it over anything else. But don’t you think it would be nice if Smeech and his goons repaid you with the same loyalty you show them? Wouldn’t it be nice for them to stick their neck out for you a little bit? Don’t you want better working conditions, to be treated with the respect you deserve? Sure, in my gang you will not be my right hand, Sevika is doing a sufficient job, but some little birds have told me that you are not after power or influence anyway. You will continue doing what you have been doing with Smeech, except without the extra responsibility of running the entire ship, and for better pay,” he paused and leant in closer to you, “As much as it hurts, sometimes we outgrow those we once shared a path with.”

The room fell silent again. Your thoughts swarmed. Silco’s proposition was tempting, of course it was. You have longed for the kind of lifestyle he described. But did you want it bad enough to throw away everything you’ve built, your reputation? To be known as the traitor that jumped ship when a better deal came along? Would Silco himself even be able to trust you after that?

“No,” you stood up from the chair and dusted off your pant leg, “I’m sorry, Silco. All of that is tempting, and I am flattered you would even make such a proposal in the first place, but I can’t do it. I may not have much as of right now, but I have pride. You must understand me.”

His mismatched eyes followed you as you turned to the door.

“The offer will stand up until the gathering tomorrow,” he called after you, “You remember that all of your goons have to be there, along with Smeech?”

He was talking about the big monthly gathering your gang had with Silco. A performance review of sorts. You nodded and turned your head to him.

“I remember. Everyone will be there,” you were about to get going, but then a tinge of guilt ran through you. You turned to face him fully.

“And thank you. For helping me today,” you gestured at your head, “I’ll pay you back for the shimmer. And I’m sorry.”

Silco waved at you dismissively. He didn’t say another word, and if you have known him any less you would’ve thought he looked… disappointed? But that, of course, couldn’t be the case. Sevika opened the door for you, and you slipped out into the night. Silco then dismissed Sevika. The office fell gravely silent.

Silco tilted his head up and looked up at the beam running along the roof above his desk. Off to the side, in the dark, a small, blue-haired figure sat silently.

“You heard her,” Silco called out towards the ceiling, “She made her choice. I did everything I could.”

The figure said nothing. It sat, hugging its knees, lightly rocking. Then, suddenly, it dropped down onto the table and dashed out the door at a superhuman speed. Silco only registered two long flowing braids flying past him before the figure disappeared into the night. He sighed and poured himself a drink.

You stomped through the crowded streets of Zaun, unceremoniously pushing anyone that crossed your pathway out of the way. All the fear, all the confusion, all the pain, all of it morphed into a deep, scorching anger that melted your stomach from the inside, burned up the walls of your throat. How dare he? How fucking dare he? Who did he take you for? A fucking rat, a snake, a worm? Why would he even make such a proposition to you? You have always been nothing but loyal to Smeech, that fact was the course of your pride. No matter how difficult, no matter how taxing, you made it work. And now he wanted to prance in, chuck you a bag of money, and expect you to follow him like a dumb sheep? Like a–

You were suddenly swept off your feet by some invisible force and thrown into the nearest alleyway. Before your eyes could adjust to the dark, your back was pressed against the cold brick wall, and another small body was pressing against you. You were about to shout, but a small hand with long nails clamped over your mouth.

“Shh, it’s me! Please, please just listen. Don’t say anything, just listen!”

You recognized the hushed, raspy voice. It was Jinx.

“Don’t go to the meeting tomorrow. Please just trust me, don’t go! Please,” she whispered inches away from your year, her breath ticked the crook of your neck. You pulled her hand off of your mouth.

“Jinx, what the fuck are you doing? Why shouldn’t I go? All my goons will be there.”

You finally made out her face. The dim light of the streetlight just outside of the alleyway reflected in the small beads of tears in her blue eyes.

“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you, I really, really can’t. But you have to trust me! Tell them you are sick, tell them you got another headache, anything! Just don’t go,” she begged, pushing even closer into you. How did she know about your migraines?

You pushed her off you. Your voice was cold and stern now.

“Jinx, I am really fucking tired of the mystery games you and your daddy are playing. You either tell me what is going on, and why I shouldn’t go to my job, or I am going home. To sleep before an important meeting tomorrow.”

Halfway through your rant you realized you were being overly harsh. Jinx’s bottom lip was trembling and she latched onto you again. But you couldn’t stop yourself.

“I’m sorry… I can’t. Please!”

She was crying now, her voice breaking off into squeaks. You’ve had enough of this nonsense. You ripped her hands away from yourself again, her nails leaving red trails on your arms. Your head throbbed dangerously again.

“Jinx, please, I have to go home. We can talk about this tomorrow. I am sorry, but I am fucking exhausted from all the mind games. Goodnight.”

And with that, you stormed out of the alleyway, leaving Jinx behind. You knew it wasn’t right, you knew she was upset, and you should comfort her, but in that moment all you wanted was to sleep, for this nightmarish day to be over.

Jinx watched you leave, nervously picking at the nail of her thumb. The further away you got, the more hopeless the situation seemed. A tear fell onto her cheek.

And then, spontaneously, an idea was born. The girl quickly wiped her tears away, shot you one final glance, and started sprinting back home. She had a plan.

[rey-jake-therapist]

So I keep reading that Sauron and Galadriel couldn't have spent sexy times together because it would have bound Sauron to his form, which I'm pretty sure is wrong, so I searched Google and found something funny dating from 2013. 'Couldn't not share it.

"Sex as means to reproduce.

My answer depending on what that s-word means: I. Couple Glue: Sauron: Not interested in such thing. Wears only friend in his world on his finger until he looses both. Valar: They surely had a couple thingy. Tantric sex that Sting hasn't dreamt of or something. Maiar: Not as apparant as the Valar but probably yeah. II. Love pendant (Obsession) Sauron: The REAL baddies in Tolkien's world aren't some misunderstood emos (for which he has my respect). They don't love or obsesse over gals. EXCLUSION: While he was a blender, he might have faked it (if it was useful for him he would have). Valar/Maiar: Dunno. Probably. Possibly. They want the couple thingy, after all? III. Physical activity Sauron: Surely. I mean why not? And the time argument is irrelevant if we exclude the love/obsession/couple thing. Valar/Maiar: The ones that were happy to try new things surely… Unless it was binding to human form and/or the couple thingy was great enough. Wizards: The time argument holds, as they will also engage in a love/couple thingy. The old age probably protected them from it. Saruman, just as Sauron, was a complete Baddy: yeah he prolly did it. He even got new clothes, as he probably tried to tell himself that the women actually liked him for himself. IV. Reproduction Sauron: Deffo not. Immortals probably had some way to control this, as there was no overpopulation issue in ME. But he would probably kill his women and eat the babies before he conceives possible competition. Valar: Couldn't. If the tantric thing was also as good as sting thinks - lucky bastards. Maiar: Had probably something to do with choice."

To be clear, I didn't write this stuff: Source

More seriously, regarding the subject itself:

From Tolkien's essay Ósanwe-kenta, Vinyar Tengwar #39:

Here Pengolodh adds a long note on the use of hr��ar by the Valar. In brief he says that though in origin a "self-arraying", it may tend to approach the state of "incarnation", especially with the lesser members of that order (the Maiar). "It is said that the longer and the more the same hröa is used, the greater is the bond of habit, and the less do the 'self-arrayed' desire to leave it. As raiment may soon cease to be adornment, and becomes (as is said in the tongues of both Elves and Men) a 'habit', a customary garb. Or if among Elves and Men it be worn to mitigate heat or cold, it soon makes the clad body less able to endure these things when naked". Pengolodh also cites the opinion that if a "spirit" (that is, one of those not embodied by creation) uses a hröa for the furtherance of its personal purposes, or (still more) for the enjoyment of bodily faculties, it finds it increasingly difficult to operate without the hröa. The things that are most binding are those that in the Incarnate have to do with the life of the hröa itself, its sustenance and its propagation. Thus eating and drinking are binding, but not the delight in beauty of sound or form. Most binding is begetting or conceiving. "We do not know the axani (laws, rules, as primarily proceeding from Eru) that were laid down upon the Valar with particular reference to their state, but it seems clear that there was no axan against these things. Nonetheless it appears to be an axan, or maybe necessary consequence, that if they are done, then the spirit must dwell in the body that it used, and be under the same necessities as the Incarnate. The only case that is known in the histories of the Eldar is that of Melian who became the spouse of King Elu-Thingol. This certainly was not evil or against the will of Eru, and though it led to sorrow, both Elves and Men were enriched."

So it's clearly said that the most binding is "begetting or conceiving", in other words: making babies. Melian lost the ability to change form ever again because she conceived Luthien, not because she had sex with Thingol (yeah I know that one event often leads to the other, but Elves are known for being able to decide when they want to conceive, and I presume it's the same for a Maia). And even in this case, in the text it's said that begitting and conceiving are the "most binding" things a Maiar can do, but it doesn't straight out state that it automatically involves losing their capacity to shapeshift... But then, Melian is the only example of Maia who had a child, and she remained in an Elf form.

Regarding everything that's not begetting/conceiving, it would take Sauron to use his hröa (his body) during a certain time before losing the capacity to shapeshift. And if I understand this text well, it would be the result of him getting attached to this hröa, in a way: he would be so used to this form that he would also lose the desire to leave it.

[the-nothing-maker]

Holy blemishes

(Mel is my main D&D guy from @luposlipaphobya's campaign, Val Cardinal !)

[sysig]

is this where u take the requests? if not, apologies lol still learning tumblr, I WAS WONDERING IF MY VARGAS RELATED REQUESTOBER REQUEST COULD BE JAKE/NNY? i feel like jake/nny is SO looked past like its actually so cute, they could be doing anything THANK U IF THIS WAS THE WRONG PLACE SORRY MWAH MWAH X

Day 12 - Once you had one hole in your skin, you've had 'em all

[xiii-e]

//ooc posting: I NEED to find more fun/silly things to do with my two they are Not meant to be all agony all the time I swear- I just have a penchant for the dramatic and they're a little in the torment nexus o(-< but on god they will Have Fun too

[dennisboobs]

most annoying thing about being me is that i cannot engage with like. any fanon shit about dennis because i'm constantly on some advanced derangement and the stuff i thought two years ago when i was first getting comfy in the fandom is still the way everyone else looks at dennis but i'm like. yes but its Worse than this. you're like a quarter of the way there. this isn't the interesting bit, this is a symptom of it, keep going.

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Just remembered I have a psychiatrist appointment so early tomorrow. And I obviously dyed my hair so recently because there's green staining on my face. I don't think it's going to look great for the bipolar diagnosis, to disclose that I was feeling impulsive and wanted to get control over something, so I dyed my hair at midnight.

[syxnewt]

my parents want my little brother, who has had a fever no lower than 100 F for the past 2-3 days, to go to school tomorrow

[medicinemane]

And maybe you'll be like "but if you don't trust businesses, how can you trust welfare?"

I fucking don't. My mom trying to get on food stamps fucked me up because a lady I never met without my permission got my SSN from my mom and started editing my files. My heart still races to this very second whenever I think about it, it kinda messed me up bad and I'll never ever ever see any kind of recourse

And I'm terrified that I'm gonna lose my medicaid just cause I inherited some money from my grandpa

And I've never even applied for disability cause it kinda doesn't matter finding out if I'd qualify or not cause of my depression, when the rules are so restrictive I don't know if I've even be allowed to keep my house

I do not fucking trust these things on a personal level. I feel like out of a lot of people I have the most to fear from them cause I'm on the edge of having things work, and that gets you punished

...but I need medicaid in order to have insurance (and when you strip out the finance side of medicaid, I love medicaid... they're honestly incredible insurance... I just... I just... dental is like 90% of why medicaid is so important to me, ever since I found out this state pays for it I've actually been able to do cleanings which is important to me cause I can't always get myself to brush)

And I think things like disability and food stamps are pretty damn important on a personal level, and honestly are also good for the economy cause they get people spending... it's practically a free cash infusion into the economy, cause these are people who need to buy stuff

There's just so much important stuff welfare does that it's worth dealing with government

No, what I want is more accountability so if someone gets my SSN from a 3rd party like my mom they're held to HIPPA styles standards where that's not ok to access my files without my permission (She changed my fucking address and tried to get medicaid to investigate me for fraud! Never even met me)

Like have some accountability there and in every situation

Secondly I want less punitive focused rules. I'd frankly prefer bezos get on disability than smack down some poor sod cause they got $2000 in the bank or cause their friend lets them live with them for free

If there's gonna be a cut off on these programs, it needs to be a solid step above the poverty line, cause... by definition I assume poverty line denotes kinda the minimum expected income people can reasonably live off of, and if you take away benefits people are gonna lose a chunk of money to covering that stuff themself, so you need a buffer before you kick people off

I don't fucking trust the government for a second, I've actively been fucked by them and on a personal level I avoid everything but medicaid and only that cause everything but the money is pleasant to deal with and I kinda need it (honestly if I was rich I'm not even kidding that I'd rather give medicaid like $400 a month than some insurance company, I sincerely like them as insurance)

But I'd trust them a lot more if they were less punitive, less out to hunt me down and gut me cause someone handed me a fiver or cause I started to get on my feet, and if government employees had concrete rules they had to follow that were actually transparent and enforced

Like 90% of my problems with welfare go away if they're held accountable and there's less "catch the welfare cheats" mentality going around

I don't trust the government in the slightest, but sadly there some jobs it kinda has to do, so I'd just rather force it to be an open book where the public can keep an eye on it and if they step out of line there's consequences (sort of like I don't trust most mega corps but happen to sometimes need stuff from them... did you know literally every cell service provider has been illegally selling shit like your location data to random people like bounty hunters, and the FCC just slapped them with a fine that's 0.02% of their yearly incomes and debated even doing that? I even can offer a source on that)

...I don't trust much of any authority cause they constantly fail me and kinda screw me. Don't trust doctors either, but I still gotta go to them, you know? ...they're just... they're real bad at listening... so many systems need systemic change

(You know who I really don't trust is the cops. I could point to so many examples. My uncle doesn't trust cops either, and he's an ex Fire and SWAT paramedic, he worked with them and we still got into a long conversation where he basically tore into them far better than I can)

(I don't trust authority that's not accountable)