#i get sick of this issue happening often though

[christine-ye]

While Komugi is very far from being my favorite in Wonderful PreCure (I have a fear of dogs irl so it doesn't really help my case) I don't dislike her whatsoever and think a lot of the criticisms made against her are... not it

[aplpaca]

thinking about how I've seen OCD get talked about now, but haven't really seen many posts that actually explain what it is. And like, obviously people shouldn't get all their info about mental conditions from posts, but u can't deny that internet communities and stuff play a major role in people recognizing and putting names to their own experiences.

But like since the general public has like absolutely no idea of what OCD actually is (no thanks to popular media), and a lot of things I see talking about intrusive thoughts don't mention OCD (either bc they originated in OCD circles or bc intrusive thoughts aren't Exclusive to OCD or for some other reason), there should prob be more explanation put out on what OCD actually consists of.

Which is kinda hard in some ways, bc there are so many ways OCD can present in terms of what "themes" a person experiences, so someone talking about what their themes are might not ring a bell with someone who experiences different ones. But like, the core thing with OCD isn't the presence of certain themes, it's a specific pattern of spiraling thoughts and reactions.

Like. OCD is a mental condition/illness where people experience stressful, unwanted, repetitive thoughts. These are intrusive thoughts are what make up the "obsessions" part of the disorder. In response to these intrusive thoughts, a lot of people will perform certain actions or think certain things in an attempt to neutralize or disprove the threat they represent. These are the "compulsions" part of the condition.

For a more "traditional" example, someone experiencing intrusive thoughts that they might catch a communicable disease may obsessively wash their hands or google their symptoms to try to lessen the anxiety. While someone who is worried they might hurt someone (even though they very much do not want to hurt someone) may avoid being near sharp objects or may avoid the people they're afraid of hurting.

One of the issues with OCD is that performing the compulsions provides short term relief, but in the long term it only strengthens the stress caused by the intrusive thoughts, thus furthering the thought spiral and actively making it worse, to the point where, depending on your themes, you may be (almost) convinced that your intrusive thoughts represent the truth or the inevitable or something permanent.

Intrusive thought themes cam be literally anything, but some of the common ones are stuff like

Questioning your sexuality, gender, etc (what if I'm actually straight/gay/bi/trans/cis/etc?)

Being worried about losing control and hurting yourself or others physically, sexually, emotionally, basically any way (what if I want to kill someone? What if I'm a pedophile? What if I'm an abuser? What if I want to stab myself? Etc)

Fear of becoming or being sick

Worrying something bad will happen to you or people you care about

Worrying about your spiritual beliefs or lack thereof (what if I'm actually Christian? What if I'm actually atheist? What if i don't believe in the faith i ascribe to? Etc)

Worrying about relationship status (what if I don't actually love them? What if they're not "the one"? What if they're cheating? What if *I'm* cheating? Etc)

What if I'm a bad person?

Fear of losing things

Fear of things not feeling right (this is often be related to other themes via magical thinking. ex: if I don't have my things organized Just Right then something bad will happen)

Fear of unreality

Compulsions vary by theme a lot obviously, but some common ones include

Hand washing

Organizing things until they Feel Right

Checking and double checking and triple checking to make sure you did something correctly

Obsessively reviewing your memories to disprove a thoughtor make sure you don't believe something

Arguing against the thoughts in an attempt to disprove them

Testing your mental reactions to a thought or to certain kinds of content, to show yourself you don't actually believe or feel something

Obsessively googling symptoms, testimonies, things related to your thoughts

Obsessive prayer

Repeating phrases, mantras, affirmations, etc in an attempt to make thoughts go away

Avoiding things and situations that set off your intrusive thoughts

Repeatedly asking for reassurance from others ("I'm not being xyz, right?")

But yeah this obviously isn't exhaustive but, just, if this kind of thing sounds familiar, you should probably do some research on OCD, bc while intrusive thoughts can occur with other conditions, the intrusive thought-compulsion spiral is the core of OCD and isn't really a subaspect of depression/anxiety/ptsd/etc. and the treatment and management of OCD can look different from other stuff, so its a good thing to look into.

(Also it's important to keep in mind, esp if you're someone that doesn't have it, that someone's intrusive thoughts Are Not "secret desires" or "repressed urges" or anything the person even remotely wants to act on. Someone having harm-related intrusive thoughts is not at risk of actually acting on them, no matter how worried they are of doing so.)

Anyway this was a long post and I don't have a neat way to wrap it up and also I accidentally added a poll and now can't get rid of it so here's free poll. I'm running on nyquil and a small amount of straight gin (which works very well at numbing a sore throat) rn gnite

[ghettogirly]

[🕷️] 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒!

authors note: please reblog and like so others can see! Hope you enjoy!!

[🕷️] 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄:

🕷️ - He would be very keen on spending time together one on one especially during his time in the cartel where it’s unknown if there will be another tomorrow.

🕷️- I think he would love staying inside his villa with you and enjoying a nice home meal while watching a movie.

🕷️- He would love giving you self defence lessons and training you in the gym, especially since that’s his element. This man would have a whole training and diet plan already made for you.

🕷️- Armando would try take you out every now and then, maybe to go shopping or for a nice dinner just to give you a feeling of a relatively normal life. He wouldn’t do this often though, probably only doing this for anniversaries as he wouldn’t want to place you in any danger.

🕷️- He would enjoy coming back home after some business he had to handle whether that was securing a deal or carrying out an execution, to see you sleeping in your shared bed. This would give him a sense of security and also spend some quality time of sleeping together.

[🕷️] 𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇:

🕷️- He would not be someone to do public display of affection. The thought of someone seeing him be vulnerable with you would probably cause trouble.

🕷️- The only display of affection he would do would be longing stares at you if you walk past him, sneaky winks or he would hold your fingertips as you talk to him, making sure to hold eye contact with you.

🕷️- It would be a struggle at first to make him initiate affection as he grew up without parents. An incarcerated mother and a dad he grew up to hate? A whole lot of issues.

🕷️- However, he would eventually warm up to the idea.

🕷️-Behind closed doors, he would love wrapping his arms around you and hugging you as it gives him the satisfaction of protecting you.

🕷️- He would also love giving you slow, passionate kisses. (depending on his mood) The type to make you and him both, longing for more.

🕷️- however if he’s angry, you already know he’s going to be grabbing your face and forcing you into a heated, passionate kiss. His hands exploring your body as he releases his frustrations.

[🕷️] 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:

🕷️- He would openly compliment your superficial things such as your clothes, hair or makeup.

🕷️- However, getting something beneath the surface level for him would be tough.

🕷️- He’s overly critical and cynical of the world, believing evil things happen to everyone and that you never really know someone’s true self.

🕷️- However, his perception quickly changed when he met you.

🕷️- You showed him something different, a breath of fresh air. He loved the way you carried yourself, holding yourself with grace but not hesitant to assert yourself.

🕷️- One day he would say, “I really admire your character baby.”

🕷️- You would look at him in shock, not hearing those words before and quite frankly caught off guard at his sensitive words. Nevertheless you would smile and reply, “I learnt it all from you.”

[🕷️] 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄

🕷️- This wouldn’t really be a big one for him.

🕷️- I believe he would expect you to be able to do things for yourself, he wouldn’t be able to care for you, himself and his cartel as well. He would get frustrated at your lack of ability to be able to care for yourself.

🕷️- However, if you ever get hurt or sick you can bet on it that he’s taking care of you.

🕷️- He wouldn’t let anyone help you, only him.

🕷️- He would change your dressings or help you take your medication. Even bring you soup for your sore throat.

🕷️- He would help clean up around the bedroom and help you do basic tasks again.

🕷️- He has maids for the rest, so what’s the point.

[🕷️] 𝐆𝐈𝐅𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆:

🕷️- Armando wouldn’t really get you surprise gifts, he would much prefer to give you money and allow you to buy your own.

🕷️- He would surprise you with an amount of cash and then you can buy what you want.

🕷️- Sometimes he’ll come back with a new necklace for you that has his initials or the name of his cartel, just to let other know that you’re claimed.

🕷️- If it was your birthday, you can bet the whole mansion would be decorated and there would be a private jet awaiting you, ready to take you on a holiday resort.

[thebibliosphere]

Whenever I get a particularly nasty message, I always check to see if they're following me first. Nine times out of ten, they're not. But they're also, unfortunately, the same people who feel entitled to send me multiple messages in a row, most of them heavily steeped in the language of moralization and purity.

Like whenever I talk about painkillers or pain management, I always get a handful of well-meaning people who are maybe new to my blog or are just young, asking me if I've tried diet/exercise/meditation, etc.

Sometimes I'll respond to them. Other times I'll just ignore them because I get those kinds of messages so often it's like white noise, and maybe part of me hopes if they stick around on my blog, they'll learn it through exposure via my incessant bitching.

When you see me responding to someone offering that kind of advice, it's either because I'm at my fucking limit or because I'm hoping it's a teachable moment and an otherwise seemingly nice person might unlearn some harmful biases.

The people who don't follow me are not interested in any kind of conversation on the subject. They do, however, feel the most qualified to tell me, someone they didn't know existed until one of my posts crossed their dash, how to manage my life, everything I'm doing wrong, and why I'm a bad person.

And for them, my disability is proof that I am a bad person because they view health as a moral issue.

If you're sick, it's because you don't exercise enough, don't eat the right foods, don't pray enough, don't do enough. They genuinely believe that if they say and do all the right things, like a Good Person, they'll never get sick.

It's their security blanket against the harsh reality that anyone is one bad day away from disability. One faulty gene, one bad infection, one bad accident away from a life-long diagnosis. And if they do get sick, it's a test. A challenge to be overcome with Willpower as they learn the True Meaning of Life.

It can never just be a simple fact of life that sickness happens. That disability exists without a moral reason.

And it's suffocating.

Day in, day out. Folks who don't know me from fucking Eve telling me I'm being punished. Not always as outright as that. They don't always use that word. But sometimes I appreciate it when they do because at least then they're being honest. They're not couching it in the softer language of leftist circles. Not hiding it behind concern.

Because the truth is, there are just as many folks who think they're liberal and enlightened who'd be happy if disabled people just stopped existing. They don't like thinking about us because it makes them think about themselves. About their own fragility and mortality, and they hate that. They hate that there's something they can't control with their thoughts and actions. That they can't moralize their way out of.

Honestly, it's a relief when people are just cunts about it because I can hit the block button, safe in the knowledge that they were never the kind of person who would see me as a person. But when it's some 20yo kid with their pronouns, orientation, and "ACAB" in their profile spouting the same kind of moralization, sometimes even with the language of eugenics, it feels like such a betrayal. Like a loss.

And perhaps if I wasn't multiply disabled, I'd have the energy to pull them back. To tell them why they're wrong and hope like hell they realize what they're doing is harmful. But then, if I wasn't disabled, they wouldn't be messaging me, so I wouldn't be dealing with it.

I wouldn't be expected to use my existence as a teachable moment to spoon-feed them compassion. But I am, and I do. When I can. Not always with the grace that's warranted. Not always with the thought and compassion I ought to. (And I don't; I acknowledge that. I'm prone to anger and off-the-cuff remarks that are hurtful too. Though I try to keep most of it to myself or save it for therapy.)

Basically, if you've made it this far through the TED talk, don't be fucking cunts to disabled people. Don't tell chronically ill people to try yoga. Don't moralize pain relief. Suffering is not noble.

You need to kill the cop and the priest in your head telling you otherwise.

And also if you're the nice people sending me nice messages. Thank you. It helps cushion all of *gestures* this.

[foldingfittedsheets]

Come with me now on another story adventure.

Some types of hardship do start to feel like curses if they happen often enough. One thing I’ve experienced a lot- or at least enough to posit a curse- is my apartments flooding.

I’ve had flooding in three separate apartments I’ve lived in.

The place I lived with Betty flooded due to a massive rainstorm and poor placement on a downhill slope. Betty’s room was more effected than mine, but due to poor handling by the management it resulted in some rampant black mold and my eventual falling out with Betty as we broke the lease to escape.

My first flooding though. Happened when I lived in a third floor apartment. How, you might ask, is that possible?

Oh, Reader. Prepare yourself.

Now, I need to set the stage. Because you see, I shared this apartment with the last boy I’d ever date, Brendan. We’d known going into the relationship that I had a predilection for pussy but it finally clicked that I was just not attracted to men.

This was particularly devastating because I still loved that boy with all my heart but neither of us were getting what we needed out of the relationship. Suffice it to say, the atmosphere in the apartment in which he was sleeping on the couch was A BUMMER.

We were both sick, probably from stress, and had bad coughs. It was the night before midterms.

I was tucked up into bed, with little kitten Leeloo, ready to get to sleep. It was about 10pm. Brendan knocked and poked his head into the room.

“It’s raining in the bathroom,” he said.

I got out of my comfy bed, and joined him in the bathroom. Raining was an exaggeration but there was definitely water dripping down the door jam and pooling up under the paint.

“That’s not good.”

We both stared at this problem together, sick and sad.

Finally, I suggested, “Go see if the upstairs neighbor left a faucet on. I’ll try to call maintenance.”

He left and I started making calls. At 10pm it was understandable that I was getting a lot of voicemails. Two maintenance lines deep, Brendan returned.

“The people above us are getting drops too, and the place above that won’t respond.”

Four defunct numbers later, I finally got ahold of an emergency maintenance guy who was on call. “It’s raining in our bathroom.”

He was befuddled and said he’d be in soon.

That was about when it really actually started raining. Drips began pouring out of light fixtures. Terrified, we turned off the lights we could, setting out bowls and towels to mitigate water damage. Water dripped from several lights and started pooling ominously in the long flat kitchen light.

The maintenance man arrived around midnight. There was bowls and buckets littering the ground as Brendan and I watched in abject misery as water filled them. The maintenance man was wildly out of his depth, having been left in sole charge while the entire rest of the staff was on vacation.

As we spoke to him, the water infiltrated our smoke alarm which began screaming in earnest at this wet invasion. The maintenance man promised to try to see what was causing the issue and fled. Brendan and I regarded each other. We coughed, sick and exhausted, then went to empty the water buckets.

An hour passed. The smoke alarm persisted, it’s three shrill screeches pounded relentlessly into our ear drums. We stopped existing as individuals and became vessels of suffering. The paint in the bathroom started sloughing off the wall in wet ripples.

Brendan tried to rouse the neighbor again and returned unsuccessful.

The maintenance man returned. It was 1am. He couldn’t get ahold of the apartment causing the flooding. He couldn’t get ahold of his bosses. After the update he made to leave and we begged him, please, just make the beeping stop, please. It can rain inside, and I can get no sleep the night before midterms, and I can cough miserably all night while I empty water bowls, but please, god, please, just make the beeping stop.

He promised to try and left. At some point around then, the flat kitchen light shattered under the pressure and gushed out a fall of water. Brendan and I gave a bleak half hearted startle and tried to scrounge up more towels.

I started slipping into madness. The unceasing blaring beeps. The rain. The misery of being in this wretched situation with someone I used to be able to reach toward for comfort who I couldn’t anymore. This was hell, I decided. This circumstance fits into how they torture people, and I live here in this torturescape now. The maintenance man was never coming back.

The maintenance man came back with a ladder eventually.

Brendan and I watched with blank hungry eyes as he fussed with the alarm and at 2am it finally ceased its shrieking klaxon of madness. I cried. The man left again. We emptied the bowls.

And finally, half an hour later, the rain began to abate. The maintenance man returned to inform us that he’d entered the upstairs unit.

Someone had become incapacitated and left their bath running. He was not at liberty to disclose what happened so presumably someone was sauced out of their gourd and fell into a deep stupor such that several hours of sustained door pounding couldn’t rouse them.

People all down the row flooded, and he looked near tears himself. We thanked him and went to collapse into bed. Neither of us took midterms the next day.

Brendan and I are still friends to this day, even after a night fit to drive someone mad.

My last event of apartment flooding was a sewer main getting blocked. It was when my betrothed and I had just started dating and they were hanging out at my place while I was at work. Due to this good fortune, they were able to move my couch, entertainment system, and electronics out of the path of the flood.

It took a week and some extremely pointed emails to get the landlord to comp me rent for the week I couldn’t live there and the entire time I was just thankful I wasn’t stuck with water dripping from my lights while a fire alarm drove me to the brink of madness.

[lipringlrh]

i know it wont work | CL16

"I hate to look at your face and know that we're feeling different.” - i know it won’t work, gracie abrams

summary: you don’t love charles anymore and it’s wrong to keep dragging him along.

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

an: wrote this ages ago but remembered it. happy charles contract day !!!

word count: 1.8k

warning: a bit suggestive? breakups and angst, sad charles who likes to beg x

feedback and reblogs appreciated !!

we need to talk.

He received the text from you this morning, but he didn't want to respond. He knew what was coming but he had been ignoring it and trying his best to fix it for the past month.

He could feel you falling out of love with him over the past few weeks and he had tried everything to fix it. He'd bought you flowers, took you on fancy dates, and constantly did your favourite activities with you. It's not like he wasn't doing that before, he most definitely was, but he made it more often and romantic than before. The last thing he wanted was to lose you.

You would've said the same every day of your life until recently. You didn't know how it happened, or when or why, but it did and you hated yourself for it. You didn't want to fall out of love with Charles, you always believed you'd be together for the rest of your lives, so when you realised it was happening you ignored it, trying to force the feelings back. You immersed yourself in the dates he took you on and tried so hard to love him but you couldn't help it anymore.

It didn't take much time to realise Charles knew. He could always read you better than anyone else which you usually loved. He spent days crying into your arms, holding you and refusing to let you leave, mourning the relationship he knew was coming to an end. Neither of you addressed it though, you just waited, hoping the other would talk first. Despite loving him less and less, you loved the relationship you had with him, and you didn't want to leave him.

It was unfair though, you realised. You'd stare at each other and you could see easily how in love he was with you whilst you felt nothing. It was horrible dragging it on, especially knowing he knew, and you couldn't spend time with him without feeling incredibly guilty.

You didn't know how to go about it, telling the man you thought you'd spend your life with you didn't love him, but after sending the text, you knew you'd started it the wrong way.

You weren't surprised by the lack of response, you guessed it might happen, but you stayed home all day knowing he would show up at some point. And at quarter past eleven at night, he did.

You both were sat on the same sofa, not too far apart but far enough you couldn't touch each other without leaning. Charles hadn't looked at you since he arrived, he stared mostly at the floor, very occasionally looking up. It wasn't hard to notice the colour of his eyes - they were bright red, most likely from a mix of crying and rubbing them.

You sat in silence for a while, neither of you saying anything, neither of you wanting to admit the truth. Neither of you had told anyone the issues over the past month, but a few close friends had some ideas.

Charles was playing with his fingers, ripping off skin at the corners, he didn't want to hear what he knew you were going to say but he couldn't sit in the silence any longer without crying.

"Please just get it over with," he whispered, hoping he had the completely wrong idea for the last month.

You paused for a moment, taking deep breaths, trying not to cry yourself, "I'm not in love with you anymore."

It made you feel sick to finally say it out loud. You hated yourself for feeling it and for bottling it in for so long.

The room was silent again but not for long. Charles' head was in his hands, and small sobs could be heard from him.

"Charles, I am so sorry. I didn't want this to happen, I wanted to spend my life with you, I promise."

“Don’t, please,” he cried, voice shaking.

You started to focus on your own breathing again, forcing yourself to hold back from crying, “we can’t be together anymore.”

He looked up, straight at you. You could see his face fully now for the first time, Tears ran down his face, which was already blotchy. He looked tired and hopeless, and you feared he’d only get worse.

“Yeah, no shit,” his voice started off strong before breaking completely at the end, sending out another wave of sobs.

“God, I am so sorry, Charles, I am so sorry,” you sniffled, beginning to cry yourself.

He just shook his head and places it back in his hands. His full body was shaking and he was sobbing harder than you thought possible.

“Can you- can you hold me please?” he choked, barely holding back his cries.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea-”

“Please,” he begged, shamelessly. He didn’t care anymore, you knew he needed you, he didn’t need to hide it.

You moved closer to him, barely, still keeping a safe distance. You placed a hand on his head, not sure what else to do.

Charles made the next move and placed himself right next to you, almost on top of you. He leaned into you, pressing his head into your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around him subconsciously, pulling him closer.

He carried on shaking into you, letting out strangled sobs. They never seemed to end, he just seemed to carry on for what felt like forever. You cried too, into his hair, occasionally pressing tender kisses wherever you could reach.

"Please let me stay tonight, it's too dark for me to drive. Let me just have one last night with you please," he begged, still crying into your shoulder.

You knew it was bullshit - he drove just as well at night as in the day and it was just as dark as when he came, but you didn’t have the energy to dispute him.

“Charles-”

“Please, baby, just one night. Just one.”

You couldn’t answer him. It would be so wrong to say yes but it felt wrong to say no.

“Let me have one last good memory. Let me prove what you’re missing,” he tried pleading again.

You sighed, nodding, not that he could see you. He could feel you though but wasn’t entirely sure if your movements meant anything.

“Hmm, you want to? Please, baby. Talk to me.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, yes? Talk properly.” he ordered, sharply yet quietly, taking more control over his tears.

“Yes Charles,” you responded. He tried to look at you pointedly, silently pushing you for more, but with his tear-stained face it didn't work too well. After knowing him better than anyone, you understood though, “Yes Charles, you can stay.”

“Good answer,” he whispered, turning back into your neck, pressing lazy kisses up and down, “such a good answer angel.”

“Charles,” you almost whined. Almost. It’d be wrong to let him have you the way he wanted whilst he was in this state but God did it feel good.

He was moving down your jaw, leaving wet, loving, kisses in the wake. He was pushing himself into you, moving against your thigh.

“Let me make love to you, baby,” he moaned, rutting his hips faster against yours, “don’t refuse. I know you can’t resist me. Please.”

His face was pressed into your neck, switching between sucking and biting down. His hands moved further down, touching your chest and body in all the right places.

“Yes. Please, Charles.”

————

You slept well that night, better than you had in a long while even though you were still wrapped up in Charles’ arms. You were woken up by him, dabbing light kisses down your neck.

Light fled in through the window, hitting you and Charles perfectly. You awoke to feel his hair tickling your chin, his lips now kissing across your shoulder.

“Charles, not again,” you groaned, not wanting him to stop at all, but you were beginning to feel guilty. You just spent a night with a man who loved you unconditionally, knowing that you didn't, "Come on, Charles, get up."

He carried on kissing you, moving towards your collar bone, then inching further down, "we can go again."

You tangled your hands in his hair, moving his face up, away from your body.

"No, Charles," you paused, taking in a sharp intake of breath as Charles began kissing your jaw, "Charles, you need to go."

He stopped instantly and looked up at you. It was easy to notice the sudden change in demeanour. His playful attitude was gone, replaced with a much more miserable one. He already looked like he was going to cry again.

He'd put last nights conversation to the back of his mind, only focusing on the fact he had you all to himself. He didn't want to remember it either.

"Is there anything I can do to make you love me?" he whispered, brokenly, on the verge of crying again.

He rested his head on your chest, beginning to sob into you. His body was lightly shaking, only getting more vigorous as time went on. You couldn't respond to him - you couldn't even look at him. Guilt ate you up inside, you wanted to love him.

"I think you should go, Charles," you spoke, your voice cracking. You were crying now too.

"I want to stay."

"I don't love you Charles," you cried, "I think it's best if you leave."

"Could you love me again?" he pried, barely being able to speak between gasping for breath, his crying taking over his whole body.

"I think you should go."

"Can you answer me?" he begged.

You didn't want to but you had to. You repeated yourself again, "I think you should go, Charles,"

He propped himself up on his arms, his face over yours. He had tear tracks down his face. He was hopeful when he shouldn't be, "you're not saying no."

"I'm saying I think you should go."

"Please," he asked again, wanting nothing more than you to give in. He always believed, deep down, you were it for him, his forever person, and he really didn't want to give you up.

"Please go, Charles," you pleaded, refusing to look at him. If you could go back in time and fix your feelings, you would, in every timeline, but you couldn't and you regretted it every second.

"I'm going," he sighed, defeatedly, getting up from the bed. He grabbed his clothes, dressing himself with little effort.

He took his time, trying to savour every last bit of time with you, even if it was bittersweet. He took one last look at you before he was out of the door, holding your gaze for as long as he could.

"I promise you I'll love you forever, call me if you'll let me".

[asterias-record-shop]

BINGO: Mommy kink, Ethan Landry. Prompt 14. Reader is just having their way with Ethan who keeps cumming and keeps getting hard

—𓆩[the perfect virgin]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Sub! Ethan Landry x Dom! Mommy! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 3.9K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - You were originally attracted to Ethan because he looked like a boy who had never been touched by a woman - ever. Your corruption kink was going haywire, and it was the main reason why you pursued him before you got way too attached to his stupid nerdy personality and his utter obliviousness to anything that has to do with sex, so you decide to put him to a… test of sorts.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - kind of mean/teasing reader || mommy kink || cursing & foul language || tit worship || reader wears revealing clothing & makeup || reader could be described as a nympho? || vibrators || virginity loss (Ethan) || attempt at lactation || breast milk production without being pregnant (it can happen, hormones are a thing and can be caused by constant nipple and breast stimulation) || in turn, lactation kink || oral || grinding || riding || breeding kink || multiple orgasms || unprotected sex || multiple positions || maybe slight corruption kink?? || everything is consensual || public teasing ||

Study hall. That’s how everything started.

There were no empty tables, every one being full of a person, so you decided to move deeper — just in case there was one someone missed.

Of course, though, they were all full. All of your friends were either in other classes or working, so there was no point in texting them to come and join you so you wouldn’t be alone at a table with someone who could very well be Ghostface.

Slowly, you walked around the library to find a table you could sit at before you saw the same book for the Psychology course you were taking. You paused, looking from the book to who had it, his brown curls immediately letting you know it was that quiet boy who sat a few rows back from you.

It didn’t take you long to walk towards him, his eyes flickering up for a quick second before looking back down. It made Ethan panic; were you walking towards him?

He inhaled deeply as his eyes flickered down to the heels that stood a few inches from his chair, inhaling deeply when he felt a soft pat to his shoulder. “You’re Ethan, right?”

He tried not to let it be too obvious that his eyes started to trail up your body; your beautiful legs that were on show, your skirt black and to your midthigh and your shirt just perfectly tight around your body. “Uhm… yeah,” he whispers, nodding as you smile down at him. “Yeah, I’m Ethan.”

“I’m Y/N,” you respond, smiling. “Do you mind if I sit down with you?”

“U-Uhm no… no, not at all,” he said, quickly looking around to see if he could grab a seat for you until you grabbed one yourself and put it right next to him. “I-I’m just studying econ right now.”

“Oh, I did econ last year!” You say, smiling as you tapped the book. “I could help if you help me with psych?”

He nodded immediately, staring up at you before you sat down next to him, holding his hand tightly with a smile. “Y-Yeah, I would like that.”

After helping him out like you wanted to, it was onto psychology. You were learning about Sigmund Freud, a sick bastard who had to relate everything to sex, and two of the theories were the Oedipus and Electra Complex.

“Maybe that’s where the daddy and mommy kinks come in,” you joke, giggling. “Playing. Kind of. I think those stem from not the loving of one’s literal birth parent, but the attraction to someone who fulfills the role of sorts.” “What do you mean?” Ethan asked, leaning over to peer at your textbook and to stare at the diagram comparing the two complexes.

“Well, for those kinks, with those who have daddy kinks - whether male or female - they often have some sort of issue with their true parental figure, but not always, or a strong attachment to their father, or the love that they showed. Same with men who have mommy kinks.” You shrugged, fixing your bra strap as you looked over at him. “I don’t think I’d mind a man calling me mommy.”

Ethan could feel his cheeks get hot, looking away as you giggled. “Wh-What do you mean?”

“Well, I think I would make a good mother,” you shrug, but hum. “I just don’t like the thought of having children - now at least - still got my whole life ahead of me! I definitely do like the thought of the… process though.”

He stuttered out the same question, swallowing. He stared at you, mouth going dry as you giggled.

“Are you a virgin, Ethan?”

He clenched his fists, looking away before you held his wrist. “Y-Yeah, I am.”

“Well, I mean someone cumming inside,” you tapped his chin, getting him to look at you as you smiled at him, giggling. “Like… anywhere. I’m not the biggest fan of anal, but it depends on who’s giving it, you know? But I definitely like how it looks when cum like floods out of my cunt, you know what I mean?” You asked him, biting your lip as his cheeks get redder and his eyes try to avoid yours as much as he could. “You don’t, do you? Kind of forgot,” you hummed, letting your hand place on his and draw lines across his veins with your nail. “You don’t look like you’d be a virgin, Ethan.”

He quickly looked at you, confused. “I-I don’t?”

“No,” you say, smiling as your fingers intertwined with his. “You’re too cute to be a virgin, but you seem to be one of those types who don’t realize how much they make a girl’s pussy wet.”

He shivered as your nail slowly dragged up his forearm, a hum leaving your mouth. “D-Do I make your pussy wet?”

You smiled, shifting slightly to move the wet patch of your underwear. “You do. Can I touch you, Ethan?”

“H-Here?” He basically squeaked, but your hand placing on his thigh made him gasp.

“Not like that, silly,” you laughed, but your nail trailed down his inner thigh. “I mean… unless you want me to.”

“Y-You would do that in a library?” He whispered, watching as you tilt your head slightly.

“Why not?” He inhaled sharply as your finger trailed down his growing bulge, a satisfied hum leaving your mouth. “You should take me out.”

“Y-Yes, yes ma’am.”

That was the beginning of your relationship. Four months in, Ethan had a habit of getting way too comfortable laying against your body with your nipple in his mouth as he sucked and groped the other, a vibrator shoved into your cunt that he had licked and prepped all perfectly.

It had basically become a routine ever since you figured out that he actually did have a mommy kink, coming home from school and his nimble hands stripping you after slipping off your jacket and shoes, kissing your ankles and wrists before leading you to your room. If your feet were sore, he would give you a foot rub, and if your back hurt, a massage. He was so, so good for you, how could you not repay him?

You stroked his curls as his hand pulled your tit deeper into his mouth, sucking and biting against your areola making you hiss. “Hey, don’t be too rough, baby. Be nice.”

He hummed, nodding as he pulled away. “S-Sorry… you just taste so good.”

You laughed, stroking his hair with a smile. “Taste, hm? What tastes? There’s nothing with flavor-”

“You,” he interrupts, his tongue flattening against your sensitive but hard bud. “You taste so good.”

You hummed as you pushed your hand down to push the vibrator into the next setting, the second one being something you were basically ignorant to. You inhale sharply as you hold the end, pushing it deeper into you to feel the soft pink silicone vibrate against the perfect spot inside of you, your hips bucking as he groans against your tit.

One of his hands tries to push down your stomach, attempting to touch your pretty clit before you slapped his hand, a whine against your nipple making you groan. “You already had your time with my pussy, baby, pay attention to my tits.”

He whined, pulling away from your swollen nipple, his hands squeezing at your full breasts. “But mommy-”

“Ah,” you interrupted, raising a brow. “What did mommy say, hm? You’re going to be a bad boy and not listen to your mommy, just to get a taste of my pussy? If you’re good, you won’t have to beg for it.”

“O-Okay,” he mumbled, moving onto your other tit as his thumb flicked against the nipple that wasn’t in his mouth, a pleasure filled sigh leaving your lips.

One of your hands stayed in his hair, your head tilted back as the other guided the vibrator deeper into your cunt, hips rolling to try and get the tip against that perfect spot deeper inside of you. His mouth was nice against your tits, but not something that completely gained your attention, desperate to get that spot inside of you abused by the perfect silicone pink vibrator that always fucked you so good.

You felt a jolt go up your back as he groaned against your tit, biting against your nipple, a scream leaving your mouth as his teeth dug into your areola. “E-Ethan!”

He pulled away with the strong tug of your hand, whining loudly. “W-Wait, wait Y/N! Pl-Please, please you taste so good!”

You didn’t notice the pearly white liquid dripping down the side of his mouth, only registering the now discomforting vibrations inside of you. “No, you want to take advantage of what I give you? Hm? I be nice and let you suck on my tits as much as you want and you fucking bite me?!”

He whined, shaking his head as you pulled the vibrator out of your cunt, turning it off. “No! No, you don’t understand-!”

He choked as you pushed the vibrator into his open mouth, watching the creamy white ring envelope his lips as you pushed it down his throat, watching as he obediently sucked on it like you wanted him to. “You just like sucking on shit with me on it, don’t you? If I had another man fuck me, would you be desperate to suck his cock baby?”

He whined, shaking his head around the vibrator had been inside of you, soaked and covered in your arousal and cum. You pulled it out of his mouth to hear him whine even louder, his head shaking. “No, no! Mommy, mommy you promised that if I was good I’d be able to fuck you!”

“But you weren’t good, were you?” You hissed, squeezing his chin as you threw the vibrator to the side, forcing him onto his back. “I wanted to be nice and feel your mouth on my tits, but you wanted to bite me?”

“Pl-Please, you had milk coming out!” He basically begged, his hands cupping your tits and fingers squeezing at your nipples. The sensation makes you scream out, gasping as he rolls the hard, sensitive buds between his fingers, gasping as he pulls them slightly and the white liquid slowly starts to drip out. He groaned, staring up at you in desperation. “Can I please… please suck them, mommy?”

You paused, staring down at the liquid dribbling from your nipples. How the fuck were you lactating right now? There was absolutely no way you were pregnant, there was no other symptoms, you were on birth control-

“Y/N?”

Your eyes meet his as he smiles, sitting up.

“Just because you're lactating, doesn’t mean you’re pregnant. It can be caused by constant stimulation to the nipple and breast.”

You paused, holding his shoulders as he slowly ducked down to delicately lick the translucent, white tinted liquid. “Did you... look that up?”

“Well, yeah,” he laughed, shrugging. “I could tell that it kind of bothered you whenever I stopped, and they were getting heavier and you said that they were sore, so I looked it up to see if me sucking on them was doing anything. That’s why I just gave them massages for a while.”

You stared down at him, confused. “I thought you just liked squeezing my tits.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “As much as I do like that, I care about your well-being more.”

You could feel your heart swell, a smile on your lips as you leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to his mouth. “You’ve been doing so good, baby, I think you deserve a treat for looking out for your mommy.”

He groaned as you leaned down, pressing another kiss to his lips, his mouth desperately following yours as you pulled away. “Wh-What do you mean by a treat?”

“Anything you want, baby,” you say, giggling. “You just tell me and I’ll do it.”

“Can… can I fuck you?” He whispered desperately, inhaling sharply as you hummed, nodding.

“How do you want me, honey?”

“L-Lay back for me,” he whispered, nodding. “Please.”

You smiled as you slowly got off, laying on your back with a languid stretch as he quickly straddled your waist after slipping off his clothes. He lifted himself up, pumping his cock as you tilted your head slightly, desperate to look at his way too pretty cock. It wasn’t the thickest in girth, but his length and the slight upwards curve from how fucking hard he was with the picturesque dribble of cum sliding out of his tip.

He groaned as he slowly slid his tip up and down your slit, jaw falling as he tilted his head back with even the slightest push into you. His fist nightly to the thought of you had nothing on the warmth of your cunt, how fucking soaked you were, and fuck you couldn’t have been tighter. He had to hold himself back from cumming just from this, a shaky groan falling from his mouth as your hands slowly trail up his chest, his perfect milky skin making you groan.

He cursed, leaning down to press a firm kiss to your lips, a whine falling from his mouth as you rolled your hips into his. “You ever going to start moving?”

He groaned, head tilting back as he desperately tried to control the sporadic bucks of his hips. “Y-You feel… you feel too good. F-Fuck, fuck, I can’t move without cumming,” he whispered, his voice breathy as you tried to hold back from moving your hips on your own. “Pl-Please, just let me… let me stay here for a minute, n-need to feel you.”

You held back a pout, nodding reluctantly. “Not too long, baby, before I give myself pleasure.”

Ethan groaned as he leaned down, desperately kissing at your neck as his hands groped your tits, his thumbs finding your nipples and sliding over them firmly. “N-No, no, I’ll still… I’ll still give you pleasure, mommy, that’s what I’m here for. To give you pleasure.”

“Well, don’t just give it to me on my tits, my love.”

As much as you did love him sucking and licking at your nipples, desperately drinking at the milk that was a production of constant stimulation, a sigh leaving your mouth at the same feeling filled your body like it had the past few weeks. It felt good, a weight of some sort being lifted from your swollen tits at the milk being sucked out, but with his cock this deep inside of you, how could you not want it?

You shifted your hips, smiling when you heard the whine fall from his lips, purposely clenching your cunt around his cock. He gasped against your tit, groaning loudly as you pushed your hips off the bed, rolling your hips against his to get his cock deeper inside of you, his hips bucking against yours seemingly on accident.

You gasped as his teeth dug into your nipple once again, whining loudly as his hips started to move faster, more collected. You certainly didn’t expect him to be this good at fucking right off the bat, his shaft rubbing along your walls as one of his hands push down between the two of you, smearing your wetness along your slit and rubbing at your clit.

You moaned loudly, gasping as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, his back arched as he attempted to continue thrusting into you as he sucked on your tits, his thrusts getting rougher as your nails dragged down his back. He pulled away from your tit with a deep inhale, a shaky moan leaving your mouth as the white liquid dribbled down his chin.

“A-Am I doing good, mommy?” The name makes your walls clamp down on his cock, a whine leaving your mouth as his hips stutter, your cunt used to the steady and rough pace of his thrusts being affected by the slight falter. “I-Is that a yes? Y-You clench when I call you mommy, you really like it, don’t you?”

“Y-Yes!” You yelled out, gasping as his tip kissed your cervix, grazing that one spot that made your eyes roll back. Your mouth fell open, moaning wantonly as his hands held your tits to keep some sort of steadiness to his actions.

His mind was cloudy and hazy, body hot in desperation to just fuck you. He had been waiting desperately until he got to this point, thinking of you every time he pumped his cock, hating your teasing when you forced him to watch you get yourself off with that pretty pink vibrator that you shoved down his throat earlier. Fuck, he was jealous of a fucking sex toy.

“Do you like it when I fuck you like this, mommy? Do you want me to be rougher, softer? J-Just tell me, fu-fuck, just tell me what to do.” Ethan whined, his face moving to press against your neck to get into more of a comfortable position, your cunt clenching around him once again making him groan. “J-Just tell me!”

“D-Don’t stop,” you cover your mouth, whimpering as your cheeks turned red in embarrassment; a fucking virgin has you this fucked out? A virgin is making you feel this good? “J-Just don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop!”

He groaned loudly, slamming into you as his fingers squeezed your clit firmly, taking pleasure in the way your hips bucked and your walls convulsed around his length, his vision going white as he came inside of you. You gasped, just the feeling of those hot ropes of cum squirting into you making you scream out, desperately trying to get that perfect thrust to hit your g-spot, the sharp thrust of his hips successfully making you come undone and cum all over his cock.

You could feel his cock twitching, still not softening. You had never been with a virgin before, so you assumed that he probably just needed a few more thrusts to successfully go soft, but with the lazy rolls of his hips, he was still fucking hard.

Slowly, you patted his chest, inhaling deeply. “Can I ride you, baby?”

He inhaled sharply, nodding as you pushed against his chest, inhaling sharply as you sat on his cock. You whined, his length still incredibly hard as he shifted himself, slipping a pillow underneath his hips to help push his cock into you at a new angle. You could feel every bulging vein on his shaft, his perfect arched cock pushing into you, desperately bouncing on his cock to get it as deep inside of you as you could.

Your nails dug into his chest, your head lulling back when you felt his tip hit that perfect spot inside of you, the knot inside of your stomach weak from your first orgasm. You could feel it being teased by his tip, each bounce making his head hit that perfect spot inside of you, loud groans falling from your mouth as he held your hips.

“Yes, yes, fuck!” He groaned, head tilting back as he accidentally bucked his hips, your nails digging into his chest as your eyes rolled back, supporting yourself to stay sitting up as you screamed out. “F-Fuck, fuck, don’t stop mommy, please.”

You could feel his cock continue to twitch inside of your cunt, groaning loudly as more cum flooded into you, your thighs shaking as you lifted yourself up, keeping his tip inside of you before releasing your weight again and sinking down onto his cock. He groaned loudly, tears pricking his eyes as he squeezed your hips. You were not going to let a fucking virgin outlast you.

“Y-You sure you’re a virgin, Ethan?” You whimper, a laugh falling from his mouth as you reach toward his face to wipe the tears falling from his cheeks. “Fucking hell, Ethan! We've been at it for hours, how are you still hard?!"

He was definitely a virgin if he was crying after two releases, but he definitely couldn’t be a virgin if he was still hard.

He laughed as he rolled his hips upward, groaning without holding back from his thrusts upward into you, your hands on his shoulders and your nails digging into his shoulders to stabilize yourself. You weren’t going to let yourself fly forward like you were tired, because as much as you were tired, you weren’t going to let him see that.

“Y-Yes, yes mommy, am I doing good for you? F-Fuck, I love it when you use me, mommy, I love it when you fucking use me for your own pleasure!” He groaned out, your walls tight around his shaft as he slammed his hips upward, desperately trying to chase his next release.

As much as you wanted to stay sitting up, put on that strong front, you couldn’t. You flew forward, groaning as your tried to hold yourself up above him, his mouth ducking to suck on your tits once again. The added stimulation made you scream out, eyes rolling back as another mind blurring orgasm resonated in your body, tummy convulsing as your walls clamped down on his cock.

Your nails dug into the sheets, gripping the silk fabric between your fingers as his teeth teasingly dragged against your nipple, his hands holding your hips as he thrusted into your abused cunt just a few more times, another orgasm rippling through his body as he came again, whimpering against your shoulder as you panted above him.

“You can’t be a virgin.”

He laughed as he pushed you onto your back, humming. “Can I keep going?”

You inhaled sharply, pausing when his cock continued to stay hard inside of you, but you nodded. You wanted someone who could keep up with you, who cared if it was a virgin? “Yes baby, you can.”

He groaned, leaning down for a firm kiss to your lips. “Thank you mommy, thank you so much. I love you, I’ll make you feel so fucking good, I promise.”

You groaned as he slowly flipped you onto your side, his hands pushing against your tits as he kneeled in front of your cunt and over one of your thighs, pulling your other leg over his shoulder.

Fuck, he truly was the perfect virgin.

omg, I love fulfilling requests ♡ keep them coming for Bingo!!

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© asterias-record-shop

[10yrratiolover]

Some of my, oh so many, Ratio Headcannons

he knows a bunch of languages, all of which he can speak fluently

^ this includes Latin

cleans his rubber ducks VERY thoroughly to make sure they don't mold

he HATES getting sweaty, it's the only thing he doesn't like about hot baths and working out

has very strict morning and nightly routines, gets genuinely upset if they're disrupted

I think he and Argenti would have great philosophical debates about beauty (please hoyoverse please see my vision)

just straight up hates bright lights

^ prefers warm lighting over cold

I think his skin is naturally clear but he's definitely got some kind of skincare routine anyway

missed out on a lot of social opportunities during his teenage years due to his studies and such, don't think he would have had many friends (at least not his age)

big fan of parallel play, mostly because he gets caught up in his head so often, he's completely content doing different things in the same vicinity

he also uses Aventurine (or others) as a canvas of sorts to throw ideas and thoughts on, he'll start explaining something, and mid explanation he'll run into the answer, thank whoever he's talking to even though they didn't do anything, and hurry off to write it down

frequent bruises around his collar/bottom of his neck from his alabaster

migraine sufferer, me too stay strong king (actually I think this is canon?)

he VERY rarely cancels his classes, it could be flooded up to his doorknob and he'd send out an email to his students like "Today's lecture is still on."

^ this includes when he's sick or otherwise unwell, he could be barely standing upright and he'd still give his lecture

he can't listen to music with lyrics when doing anything because it distracts him (he'll start zoning in on the words and stop doing whatever else he was doing (did I word this right? idk it happens to me all the time))

he sometimes wears the alabaster at home if sensory issues are really bad that day

^ he verbally shuts down sometimes, which sucks bc he's got a lot to say but he typically just writes things down instead

does actually throw chalk at his students, not as hard as his in-battle attack obviously but his aim is always on point

^ his perfect aim also applies to literally anything he throws, his keys, his phone, if he wants to throw something somewhere it's getting there

sometimes completely submerges himself in the bath and just holds his breath for a bit to fully clear his head

^ he can hold his breath pretty long so he sits under there for a bit (freaked Aventurine out the first time he walked in on him doing it tho)

call me crazy but I think he'd be good with kids

[viivenn]

making an important announcement about some things i’ve noticed in the gwendoline christie fandom that really bug me.

disclaimer: read this at your own convenience and discretion. i am not responsible for any sort of hurt feelings and frankly… i don’t care. if you’re mad about this, you are probably the problem. /lh

to start with id like to begin on a positive note so that i’m not diving into negativity, i don’t want to be completely negative about my experiences because i’ve actually met some of the kindest people in the world through this fan base.

the gwen fandom, the gwandom, the gwendoline christie fandom , the lesbian cesspool, has been an incredible experience that i’m grateful i’ve had the pleasure of being apart of.

i went through a rough patch during november, and if i hadn’t found out about gwen, or met such wonderful people during my time here , i honestly wouldn’t be here right now. i owe my life to these people, gwen included. i will forever adore miss christie and what she stands for alongside the friends i’ve made along the way.

and while i know someday this hyperfix will end, it’s really disheartening to me when a fandom is what makes me grow distant from things i enjoy. it happened before, i feel as though it is happening all over again.

and no, i’m not taking issue with anything like the catrissa stuff or the brienne and larissa ship going around or anything like that. i like that we can all be weird together and enjoy aus like catrissa and crackships like bririssa (not sure the official name that was decided lol). my issue is the amount of content i’ve seen that either focuses on gwen herself, or the strange relationship with minors, or the odd artwork of gwen, and the absolute disgusting behaviour towards giles.

gwen would be absolutely appalled seeing fanfictions of herself that involve nsfw or just her in general, anyone would, it’s disgusting to make works of real people in that setting. it’s like you’re treating them as an original character you can mould and manipulate as you see fit and using someone who is real with thought and feeling and consciousness for smut fics is not okay, or any fic in general. i totally get the hype around her characters, i literally have “brienne’s princess” in my bio and i’ve had “jane murdstone’s bloodbag” (in reference to my vamp au) as a name in a discord server.

but i think the fandom has begun to blur the lines between fictional characters and reality settings when it comes to gwen and the personalities she portrays on the television screen. it’s not fair to her. it’s disgusting. i’ve seen a minor do it, i’ve seen a grown adult do it. it’s something i don’t see shamed and frowned upon often enough and it’s really not okay.

on that note i’d like to quickly mention the photos, we alllll know what photos i’m talking about. the bunny one, the nudes, the ones gwen has expressed regret towards and wishes to not have them spread. was there not a “fan” who brought her a book of her nudes and wanted her to sign it? that person who was blocked on instagram by gwen because they reposted her nudes on their story and tagged her???? how can you refer to yourself as a fan after behaving so abhorrently? absolutely disgusting behaviour. as a collective fandom we need to stop touching those photos (metaphorically speaking) and leave them in the past.

i’ve been told of numerous circumstances in which adults have shown their nsfw works to minors in this fandom and it has to fucking stop. it’s disgusting!! how can you do that knowingly? i constantly ponder terminating my account after a minor got ahold of my nsfw work, and upon realising they WERE a minor it was as simple as blocking and moving on. it’s truly not that hard, folks. and the minors on tiktok who fight with others saying silly things like “that’s my wife” or worse. i’ve seen it all, i feel like, and the more i see it the more sick i become. i cannot stand it.

i have seen and heard of fans who have fat shamed gwen for that one pink dress she wore to the met gala. she looked so happy in that dress, and the audacity one must have to fatshame that poor woman on twitter then turn around and continue to proclaim your ‘love for her’ as if you’d done no wrong? are you fucking serious? are you mental?

and the sexualisation over the porcelain doll look, gods some of you are sick. those were not real breasts, people. considering the fact she wholeheartedly regrets her nude photoshoots , what possesses you to believe she would actually flaunt her chest in that outfit?

the blatant mistreatment of poor giles is not fucking okay either. just because you’re jealous of someone who makes her immensely happy does not give you the right to post something so vile and cruel about him. shame on you. why do you believe this is okay to post:

????????

are you serious? have any of you stopped to consider how HAPPY giles makes her? or is her happiness the last thing you ponder when you look at her? have you even noticed how unhappy she looks lately? have you truly paused to consider how she would feel about seeing this on your page, random twitter user, or the rest of you who think this is okay? bless your hearts.

and some of the absolutely horrific things i’ve seen about her online and the hurtful behaviour towards giles makes me question the difference between a fan and just the general paparazzi. because if you truly loved her and you truly loved giles then i would not be ranting into the fucking void about it for no reason.

i avoid interacting with pages i find problematic on here to keep from stirring the pot but tonight i chose violence and got reeeeeal pissy about how i felt about this place. it’s not okay what i see on here and it’s getting exhausting seeing the same cycle of content on a daily.

that’s everything i have to say, i think. i probably missed a lot that should be discussed in the comments but i’m done for now because i know if i go on i’ll probably cry.

before you post things about real people with real feelings , stop to consider how they will feel those real feelings towards the content you put out. chances are you’ll become less problematic and obnoxious that way. 💘

[callsign-dexter]

Big Brother to the Rescue

Summary: You, Y/N Rhodes, get really sick during the night and have to be taken to the hospital. You're dad is not around and Claire is out of town so you turn to the only person you trust, your big brother, Connor Rhodes.

Pairings: Connor Rhodes x Sister!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, cussing, inaccurate medical talk, fever, vomit, hospitals

Masterlist

You loved your brother, Connor Rhodes, to death and he loved you the same, maybe even more. You love your sister, Claire Rhodes, too but not as much as you loved Connor. They practically raised you. Your living situation was not good. Your father, Cornelius Rhodes, was a massive jerk and your mother passed away when you were young. You looked up to Clarie as a mother figure and Connor as a father figure. Connor was only 16 when you were born and he instantly fell in love with you and was proud to be the big brother and jumped at every chance to help out with you. He was the best big brother you could ask for. Clarie was the best sister you could ask for too but it wasn't a bond like you and Connor had. 

Growing up was not the most pleasant and it turned worse when your mother passed. When Connor turned 18, he tried so hard to get custody over you but it was quickly shot down even though he had a steady income and home but your dad was so powerful that he made it not happen. It also didn't help that Connor was going to medical school and wasn't home a lot but it could've worked, you still visited him often and had a lot of sleepovers with him plus it was a place for you to escape from your dad.  When your guys’ dad started to criticize him for his medical school he had enough and moved to a different state but that didn't stop you from contacting him all the time and taking trips, when you were allowed, down to see him in Guadalajara, Mexico. It broke your heart that he moved but your bond never weakened and when he spent his residency in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, you weren't allowed to visit him but video calling was a daily routine. He hated that he couldn't bring you with him but he didn't have custody and it would be too much hassle to get you over to Saudi Arabia whereas Mexico was a little easier.  

—------

When Connor finally came back to Chicago, you were 12, you were ecstatic you finally had your father figure back. You caught him up on everything and while he was away. Claire resented him for leaving but she could never be mad at you. She would do everything to protect you, if you had girl questions or boy problems you were going to her. Your dad couldn't give a shit about you, sure he fed you and gave you a roof over your head but he didn't want you and he could care less about you. So, when Connor came back and started working at Gaffney Chicago Medical Center for his fellowship for trauma surgery fellowship everything went back to normal. Your daily meetups, sleepovers, and going to him for problems and medical issues started right back up like he never left. He still tried to get custody but it failed every time but he wasn't going to stop fighting for you, they wouldn't let him have you even if you said you wanted to live with him.

—------

When you were 13 you had gotten really sick like hospital sick. It was a night that Connor wasn't working and you were just in agony. Claire had moved out and your father was at a charity thing leaving you home alone. It started in the middle of the night waking you up from a dead sleep. You desperately tried to call your dad but it just went to voicemail so you tried one more time and he answered 

“Dad, I don't feel good.” You told him. 

“What's wrong?” He asked and this gave a you some hope. 

“My stomach really hurts. I feel like I'm going to throw up. I feel hot.” You said

“Suck it up. There is medicine in the cabinet downstairs.” He said and hung up and you let out a sob. 

You pulled yourself off your bed and dragged yourself to the steps and took painful steps down the steps. You sobbed the entire time. You finally got to the kitchen and opened the cabinet and grabbed the painkillers and you took them. Almost immediately as it touched your stomach you were throwing up everywhere. You were so weak. So weak that you just ended up collapsing onto the kitchen floor just barely missing your throw up. Thankfully you had grabbed your phone and slowly and shakingly grabbed your phone, your vision blurring. You unlocked it and pulled up your contacts and hit one you knew all too well. It rang not even once and Connor's voice came through.

“Y/N/N? It's 3 AM. What's wrong?” He asked in a voice full of concern.

“I... I... I don't feel good.” You said your teeth were chattering because despite your temperature, you were freezing.

“Where's dad? Did you tell him?” He asked and you could hear him rustling around.

“He's at a charity event. I... I called him and told him but he told me to suck it up and take the medicine in the cabinet in the kitchen. I'm in so much pain, Con. I took the medicine and immediately threw it up.” You told him the feeling of the cold floor was nice.

“Bastard.” He murmured “I'm on my way. You stay put.” He said. 

“I'm hot but so cold.” You said letting your eyes droop. “So tired.” You added.

“Hey, stay on the phone with me. Why didn't you call Clarie? She lives closer.” He asked

“She's gone out of town.” You said and you could hear him get into his car and the engine start. 

“Son of a bitch.” He said and started to drive as fast as he could while still obeying the speed limit. He kept talking to you but you stopped responding and that scared him. He hung up when he arrived at your guys’ family home. He was quick to jump out and run to the front door and grab the key under the mat and opened it.

The house was dark but he knew where you were at. “Y/N/N. It's me.” He yelled out but got no response. He walked into the kitchen and saw you lying there. “Fuck.” He murmured to himself and ran over to you missing your vomit. He kneeled down and touched your forehead and retracted his hand “Damn, Sis. You're burning up.” He said. He walked over to the drawer and grabbed the thermometer and thankfully it was on that stuck in your ear. He put it there and waited for it to beep and when it did, he cursed and read it aloud “104.3. Fuck I need to take you in.” He said and started to try and wake you up. “Y/N/N, Sweetheart. It's me. Your brother. Can you open your eyes?” He asked as he pressed two fingers to your neck. “Damn, pulse is way too fast.” He said and him talking must've started to rouse you.

“Con?” You asked and he smiled softly. 

“Yea it's me. Can you open your eyes?” He asked and you cracked them open until they were open. “There we go.” He said.

“Tired.” You said and started to close again.

“No. Hey, keep those eyes open. I'm going to take you to Med, Ok?” He asked and you nodded.

“Ok. Go see Will?” You asked and he smiled. Will has become a favorite of yours and he doesn’t know why.

“Yes. We'll go see Will.” He said as he started to stand you and your legs shook like a newborn foal's standing for the first time. “Can you walk?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” You said in barely just a whisper and you tried to take a few steps and all but collapsed into his arms.

“That is a no.” He said and then he was scooping you up into his arms and walking out of the house and to his car. He got you in the passenger side seat and then him in the driver’s seat and he was off heading to Med as fast as he could. He continued to talk to you to keep you awake and before you knew it you were pulling into Med. He parked and turned the car off and got out heading to the passenger side seat. He quickly scooped you up and shut the door hastily. He rushed you into ED where he saw Maggie. “Mags.” He said and she looked up at him and quickly rushed you into a bay. “She wants Will.” He said and she nodded. She walked out of the room and went to get Will not even a second later he was rushing into the room.

“Connor? What is going on?” He asked

“She called me saying she didn’t feel good and when I asked her what was wrong, she told me she was hot but so cold. She said she took some medicine but once she took it, she immediately threw up. When I got there, she was passed out on the floor next to a pile of vomit. She was burning up to the touch, she had and still has according to the monitor a temperature of 104.3 and her pulse was fast, way too fast.” He explained as they could see from the monitor “She also said she was really tired. I woke her up and had her stand and she shook like a life, she tried to walk but she collapsed into my arms and then I quickly got her in the car and rushed her here.” He finished.

“Why isn’t Cornelius here instead?” Will asked

“He is at a charity event. Left her by herself. She called him and told him she was sick but he told her to suck it up and take the medicine in the cabinet.

“Bastard.” Will said

“That’s what I said.” Connor said

“I want to get an ultrasound done on her stomach to rule out appendicitis.” Will said and Connor nodded.

“I agree.” Connor said and soon Will was calling in the ultrasound machine and he got to work with the help of a nurse. “So, it is not appendicitis.” Connor confirmed and Will nodded.

“I want to run some tests on her. Swab for flu and viral infection and take some blood as well.” He said and Connor nodded. Throughout this entire process you had been out and now that you were in the hospital you were allowed to sleep. “I want to get some fluids running to help with her temperature and get some IV children’s Tylenol on board as well.” He said and again Connor nodded. As the nurse was preparing everything you started to wake up. 

“Will?” You asked and he smiled and looked over at you.

“Hey, Sweetheart. We’re going to get you feeling better, ok? I just want to run some tests.” He said and you nodded.

“Ok.” You said and then you saw the needles “Con, no.” You said and shook your head but that was a mistake because it hurt your head.

“Hey it is ok. I’ll be here the entire time. Ok?” He asked and you nodded and then he nodded at the nurse and Will and everyone got to work. Soon blood was taken, fluids were hooked up, and swabs were taken.

“Get those tests going ASAP.” Will told the nurse and she nodded and they were out of the room. Will had to tend to some other patients and you both understood and they let you go back to sleep. With the fluids going your pulse was starting to come up and it was steady since you were sleeping and your temperature was starting to come down and the IV children’s Tylenol helped with that. 20 minutes later Will was coming in.

“So?” Connor asked

“She has a really bad viral infection and she has a really bad case of the flu. I want to get her admitted and keep her here for a few days.” Will said

“This had to be going on for a few days.” Connor said

“Did she not tell you anything about it?” He asked and Connor shook his head.

“No, she didn’t look sick when we met up a couple of days ago.” Connor said, sighing and Will nodded.

“Let’s get her moved.” Will said and so they did.

The next time you were waking up, 3 hrs. after coming into ED, you were waking up in a room. “Connor?” You asked sluggishly.

“Hey, Sis. I’m here.” He said coming over to you as he entered the room with a cup of coffee. 

“Where am I?” You asked and he smiled and came over and sat next to you.

“In the hospital. You have a really bad case of the flu and a bad viral infection. Will is taking care of you and has you on antibiotics.” He said and you nodded and you were struggling to keep your eyes open. 

“Dad?” You asked

“Not here.” He said and to be honest he didn’t want him here. He hadn’t even thought about him since you arrived here and boy was, he going to have some words for him. “Go back to sleep.” He said and you nodded and were out like a light and he could tell because your heart rate slowed. Now it was time to have some words for his father. He made sure you were asleep before pulling his phone out and stepping out of the room where he saw Will. “Hey, I need to make a phone call. Mind staying with her?” He asked and Will smiled.

“Of course.” He said and walked into the room with you and Connor walked into the doctor’s lounge and dialed his dad’s phone number and he rang 5 times before he answered. Cornelius didn’t even have time to say hi before Connor started to rail into him.

“Do you know where your daughter is?” Connor asked

“No, but she has made a mess in the kitchen she needs to clean up.” Cornelius said and Connor saw red.

“She’s in the hospital because she has a bad case of the flu and a bad case of a viral infection.” Connor said venom in his words.

“Well, she needs to get home now and clean the mess up.” He said 

“She will be doing no such thing. Not anymore.” Connor said

“And why is that?” Cornelius asked

“Because she is coming to live with me. I was the one that found her when she called and told me what was going on while you were too busy at a charity event. She told you she was sick and you told her to suck it up. You told her to take the medicine in the cabinet and she instantly threw it up. She was running a 104.3 fever when I found her and she couldn’t even stand or walk. She was so weak. I’m filing for sole custody of her and you’re going to sign it because you are not fit to be a father let alone a guardian. You will not be coming to see her. You will not see her at all unless she is with me or have contact with her. That is final.” He went off on him. Cornelius was silent by the time he was done.

“Fine. Keep the bitch. I don’t care. I’ll have her stuff packed and waiting for you to pick it up.” He said and then hung up the phone. Connor was relieved now he needed to start the paperwork. He let out a sigh of relief.  

Connor walked back to your room and saw you wake and sitting up talking to Will. You looked over and saw him. You still looked tired but you were awake. “Where were you?” You asked.

“I was on the phone with dad.” He said

“I’ll leave the two of you alone. I will be back in a few to check on you.” Will said, directing that last sentence to you. You and Connor nodded and Will left. 

“Is he coming?” You asked and he shook his head.

“No.” He said and you looked relieved “I have good news though.” He said and you perked up.

“Oh?” You asked curious and he nodded.

“From now on you will be coming to live with me and you won’t see him or talk to him.” Connor said and your face brightened.

“Really?” You asked and he nodded.

“Really.” He said and you squealed in excitement. Your wish was finally coming true. You were going to be living with your big brother. You then started to go on about all the things you two could do together and he smiled and nodded. You suddenly stopped talking and looked at him and smiled. “What?” He asked.

“I love you, Con.” You said and he smiled.

“I love you too, Y/N/N. Now and forever.” He said and he leaned over to kiss your forehead.

“Now and forever.” You confirmed. Your wish did come true and you couldn’t be happier.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@grandstrangerphantom

@angenu01-blog

@talesofreading

@callsign-revenge

[woso-dreamzzz]

Difficult III

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Baby!Reader

Summary: A domestic day at home when you were a baby

Ingrid thinks Mapi hasn't looked prettier than when you're on her hip.

It's where she can most often find you.

Mapi's enamoured with you, Ingrid knows this. She hovers around you like she's a little kid around a new puppy.

It's pretty adorable and Ingrid can't help but smile often when Mapi sits with you on the floor and helps you play with your cars.

"She's not going to fall, Mapi," Ingrid says with a hint of humour as you toddle around the room pushing your little walker.

"She might."

"She won't."

"But she might."

"Mapi," Ingrid says fondly," She can walk fine. She's not going to fall."

You ram your walker into the wall, giggling loudly at the sound it makes. You do it a second time and then a third. You let go of it and clap, jumping around before abandoning it in favour of toddling over to your playmat and slumping down on top of it.

A Norwegian soap opera plays on the tv, the opening credits that you clearly know very well by the way you're bopping your head along and garbling out sounds that Mapi's half sure aren't actually words but she doesn't quite understand Norwegian just yet so she can't be truly certain.

Ingrid clicks her tongue at you and says a long string of words that Mapi doesn't understand again.

You turn your head to look at her, gummy smile wide and happy.

Ingrid pats the space between them and you pull yourself over, arms raised up so you can be lifted.

You wiggle between the pair of them, sucking happily at the sippy cup Ingrid gives you. You've just properly started to wean off bottles and Mapi's, yet again, in complete awe at the way Ingrid knows exactly what to do with you.

It's hard to believe that your Ingrid's first baby, though, probably also her last.

You're more than enough for both of them.

You push away Ingrid's hand and take the sippy cup in your own.

Immediately, Mapi feels nervous.

"She's not going to drown herself," Ingrid says with a laugh," She's trying to be more independent."

"She's a baby," Mapi replies," She shouldn't need to be independent."

"She's a baby," Ingrid echoes," She's growing up. She won't be with us together."

"No," Mapi says firmly, pulling you onto her lap and curling her body around your little one," She's going to stay with us forever and ever."

Ingrid laughs. You look to be quite happy sitting on Mapi's lap, wiggling your little toes as you stare blankly at the tv ahead of you.

"You'll get sick of her when she's older."

"Of my bebita? No. Never happening." She presses a kiss to your cheek that you begrudgingly accept before tugging at her fingers with your strong baby grip.

You screech when her grip on you tightens and you try to push her off.

"Mapi," Ingrid says warningly, plucking you from her grip to place back on your playmat," You can't hold her like that. She doesn't like it."

Mapi pouts but you're happy again on your playmat, banging a toy car on the floor and throwing it across the room. You scooch around on your bum a bit, just out of reach of her extended arms.

You end up sitting with Bagheera, who lets you rhythmically pat her back with little more than a judgemental look in her eyes.

Ingrid's happy to let you play by yourself, nudging Mapi with her feet to get her to stop staring at you.

"She's not going anywhere. It's just Bagheera."

"She might scratch her."

Mapi's never had an issue with Bagheera scratching people before but with you sitting by yourself, she can't help but imagine everything going wrong and you getting hurt.

"Then she'll know not do it again," Ingrid replies," You can't protect her from everything."

You grow bored of Bagheera quickly and bum shuffle back over to the sofa. You peek your head over the arm where Mamí is sitting. You make eye contact with Mumma, who smiles at you.

"We should put her in bubblewrap," Mapi says," And I think we should get her a helmet. Just in case."

She's shocked when you pull yourself up, popping your head over the arm of the sofa as you propel yourself forward. You tumble head first into her lap but right yourself and climb over her to get to Ingrid, who happily takes you into her arms.

You sag against her, wining.

She presses the sippy cup against your mouth and you happily drink.

A camera shutter sounds and Ingrid looks up to see Mapi holding up her phone.

You turn too, more so because Mumma's not looking at you than you actually caring about what Mamí's doing.

"I'm going to make that my lock screen," Mapi says as you grunt and wiggle your way into standing up on Ingrid's thighs.

It's nice being tall like Mumma sometimes but you find yourself getting bored of it like you got bored of your walker and of Bagheera.

The outro of the soap opera starts playing and your hurriedly scramble onto the floor to bounce to the rhythm.

It's not quite dancing (you don't have the fine motor control to do that just yet) but your bouncing is quite good and Mapi immediately connects her phone to the speakers.

"Dance party, bebita!"

[annabelle--cane]

I guess the thing that makes me not so fond of Jon's addiction allegory is that it's only coherent to a certain extent? Like I think people sometimes forget that he's actively violating these people

anon, through no fault of your own you have accidentally hit upon my sleeper agent trigger phrase. I have layers of answers to this.

so first off, yeah, it's not a 1:1 direct metaphor, it's a soupy dream logic fantasy plot device with flavors of a lot of different things. there's quite a lot of addiction in there, there's some abuse of power, there's some cyclical nature of trauma, there's a dash of disability, there's a few notes of gendered violence, there's a good bit of just. violence violence and being kind of a motherfucker because goddammit it feels good to be an active agent about something in your life, even if it's just choosing to be a worse version of yourself than you strictly need to be. a lot of tma's worldbuilding is very allegorical, but apart from aspects of individual statements nothing really matches up quite 1:1 with a real world counterpart, and if more things did then it probably wouldn't be a fantasy show anymore.

secondly. okay to contextualize this answer a little bit I have a kind of hypothetical video essay project about vampirism and addiction that I like to spend a few hours thinking about every so often but am almost certainly never going to make because the full research burden required is a lot higher than I actually have the time to properly do. but because of that I've spent a lot of time sorting through why framing vampires as addicts really works for me in a way that it doesn't seem to for everyone, and I think a lot of my thoughts on that also apply to jon. there's going to be a bit of a detour here before we get back to talking about tma, but we'll get there, I prommy.

I've seen a lot of people take issue with various paranormal addiction allegories because, a lot of the time, the act that is meant to metaphorically represent the act of use itself is something that is directly and inherently harmful to others, e.g. drinking human blood, handing over power to your hedonistic Evil alter ego, holding the cursed amulet and going crazy going stupid, slurping trauma out of the head of some guy you ran into on a boat to norway, etc., and yeah, I do get that. substance use is not inherently harmful like that to anyone except sometimes the user themself, and addicts are not inherently fucked up and destructive people; those are dangerous stereotypes that often lead to the demonizing of a whole group of sick people.

here's the thing for me, though: those are definitely truths I want explored and represented when it comes to portrayals of non-allegorical actual addicts, but fantasy fiction isn't for showing the world as it is, it's for showing a subjective fun house mirror version of reality where certain aspects are minimized and magnified depending on how it feels to live through it. and yes, absolutely in real life drug use is not an inherently evil act and it does not make you an inherently evil person, but... doesn't it kind of feel like that? sort of? absolutely no one is living their best life nor on their best behavior while experiencing any kind of major mental illness episode, and when it comes to addiction you've got a very clear tangible symbol of when The Episode is happening that it feels like you have much more control over than when it comes to other illnesses. it's also a thing where people are a lot more likely to be openly angry and distrustful of you if they find out it's happening. so you mix together the ideas of "I know I get worse as a result of doing this one specific thing" + "I act less like myself when I'm using, it rearranges my priorities and I care less about hurting people because that's what happens when you're experiencing The Horrors" + "society at large/people directly around me are pretty quick to say that doing this is evil," and you get the subjective emotional result of "I hurt people by using and it makes me monstrous." I tend to respond to those kinds of paranormal allegories like they're just cutting out the middle man of those subjective fears. "using makes me monstrous" -> "using is monstrous."

anyway. jon archivist.

don't get me wrong, I totally understand if this aspect of metaphor doesn't gel for some people and they only like taking it exactly as far as the text explicitly makes them, but I really get a lot out of reading jon's connection to the fears as addiction precisely because he does genuinely awful things to people as a result of it. he's a person in a very bad physical and mental place with little to no support who is constantly being told by both allies and enemies that he's already a monster just by being alive, and he copes with that by secretly falling further and further into an compulsive act of consumption that skews his priorities and makes him care less about hurting people because at least sometimes getting to be the cause of pain makes him feel a little bit less powerless when he has to be the subject of pain the rest of the time. then he's found out and is made to stop, and he has to grapple not just with the physical toll of withdrawal but with knowing there is a not insignificant part of him that will excuse any act of malice if he knows he'll feel better afterwards.

the end of tma is very explicit in the fact that the rules of its world are shaped by the subjective worst fears of those who live in it, it's "an exercise in unreliably reality" as jonny sims put it once, and I think that principle extends backwards in some ways to apply to the rest of the show. I don't think the fact that there are only entities of fear and not hope or love is meant to be a full commentary on the total nature of the real world, it's a reflection of what fear and suffering can make the world feel like. eric and melanie both go to really harsh extremes to extricate themselves from the fears and live peaceful lives, and in both cases something happens that foils their plans (getting murdered + the apocalypse, respectively), but I don't think the intended message is to say that is definitively how real life works, they are metaphors for the limits of individual agency in larger systems and represent two types of worst-case-scenarios. similarly, I don't think reading jon as an addict implies that addiction inherently involves violence or that the reactions of those around him were completely unjustified, it's just a subjective exploration of the kinds of fears that can come with addiction dialed up to 100.

[imtherain]

I Wish I Could Tell You I Love You

Welp, I was supposed to be doing homework and got caught in some feelings, so this happened. Sorry it's not the sex pollen fic, but I swear it's still coming (hah)

loganxreader

word count: 2k and I didn't really edit it/reread it so suffer

Warning? it got away from me so my original plot shifted. I used "you" as the pronouns this time. You have unspecified powers and self esteem issues, Logan is sick of your shit but Tired about it. Takes place during "logan is a teacher at the mansion" times, vaguely angst with a happy ending I guess. idk why all my Logan fics are sad/sad adjacent

[Masterlist]

[More Logan Angst] (Forced Closeness)

[More Logan but make it not angsty] (Why We Wake)

[Logan Masterlist]

Here you go

“Oh, hey, Logan,” You said as you stumbled upon him, sitting in one of the lounge rooms. You had come looking for somewhere quiet to read that wasn’t your bedroom. Why he was sitting there in the dark, you didn’t know.

He looked up at you and it seemed to take him a few seconds to figure out who you were.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Recognition finally sparked behind his eyes. You were glad you had only turned on the two small lamps in the room and nothing brighter. It was the time of day for soft light, ambient warmth to sit with.

“Want me to leave?” You offered, not really sure what was going on. Plus, you and Logan didn’t find yourselves alone very often and you were worried if you stayed, you’d say something stupid.

“No, ‘s fine,” Logan said. He looked you over, noticed you had your fancy little ereader (that he may or may not have put under the staff tree marked ‘from Santa’ for you). He noticed you were dressed way down, far more casually than you normally did in ‘public’. You were simply wearing pajama pants and a cozy top. Normally, you tried to wear ‘real clothes’ if you ever found yourself somewhere kids could potentially see you. Yet here you were, soft cotton, no jewelry or makeup or anything else. If he was a speculating man, he probably would speculate that you were wearing a soft bra underneath for some semblance of decency, but it wasn’t the one you’d been wearing earlier when he’d seen you at the staff meeting.

“Why were you sitting here in the dark?” You attempted to tease Logan. A smirk almost fought its way to his lips.

“I was just sitting here and then it got dark, hadn’t bothered to get up yet,” He explained. He stretched then, as if he just remembered he hadn’t moved at all in a long time.

You watched the way he flexed as his arms went over his head and his eyes closed with that relief that was specific to a good stretch. You hoped he didn’t catch the way your cheeks were warm when you saw his shirt ride up over his abs.

It was the age old story. You had worked at the mansion for a while now, Logan had been here longer. He was always somehow himself, even when he was getting badgered by the kids, or when Scott got on his nerves. You adored that about him, he was always entirely himself. Even if at first, you and he really hadn’t talked much, apart from pleasantries. But time passed and suddenly he shot you winks when he caught your eye from across the hall, he made sure there was a seat for you near him at dinner, he always asked you about your day, and remembered your birthday…

“You good though?” You asked. Something about how Logan seemed to reanimate when you entered the room made you worry.

“Peachy,” Logan said. “What about you? It’s pretty late for you to be wandering the halls,” Your ears got warm at the idea that he knew your schedule because he cared about you. But of course he cared about you, he was your friend. Plus, he liked to keep track of people coming and going. It didn’t mean anything.

“Yeah, I was feeling a little cooped up in my room, so I decided to find a nice little place to read until the feeling went away,” You told him. Logan hummed. “I even put a bra back on, can you believe it?” You chuckled at your own joke. Logan also knew that you refused to run around in what you lovingly called ‘a state of undress’.

“I mean, you didn’t have to do that,” Logan managed a smirk this time.

“I wasn’t about to run around the mansion with my titties flapping in the breeze,” You said before you could think about what you were saying. Logan chuckled at that.

“Is that your mutant power? Magic tits?” He asked. It had been a long standing joke that you didn’t tell Logan what your powers were.

“I mean, every baby/toddler/child I've ever cuddled falls asleep on them, so maybe,” You moved to sit in the armchair next to his. The chairs were angled together so you could still chat. You folded one leg under you and fiddled with the case on your ereader. 

“I could use some of that kind of magic,” Logan mused.

“Why? You’ve got a baby I don’t know about?” You challenged him. He looked at you for a long moment before he shrugged.

“Maybe I do,” 

“I bet Scott’s the dad,” You shot back and Logan actually snorted at that.

“You’re not funny,” 

“Your snort begs to differ,” Sometimes it was easy to be near him. Easy to simply exist as two things with beating hearts and stories they didn’t want to tell. Easy to be friends.

“I have trouble sleeping,” Logan admitted. “That’s what I’d use your magic for,” Something warm in his eyes found its way into your chest and made it hard to breathe.

Just the idea that he’d think about you in anything close to a sexual manner seemed absurd. There was no way you were his type, if your past experiences were to be believed, you were no one’s type. Anyone who had ever tried to express romantic interest, not that there had been many, gave up on the idea within a month. Most never asked for a second date.

Most never bothered with it in the first place.

“If that was my mutation, which it isn’t, I could start a whole business, don’t you think?” You try to keep the joke going, enjoying the moment too much to let it pass.

“A business? Like you’d go around and let people fall asleep on your tits?” Logan scoffed at the idea as if it offended him.

“Sure, why not. I wouldn’t have to be naked or anything, and I’d choose my clientele very carefully. If you play your cards right, I could even hire you as my like… bouncer. In case anyone got any bright ideas. I’d give you… 10%?” 

“I’d want more than that,” 

“I’m not going higher than 15,” I smirked. Logan looked for a moment like he was going to roll his eyes, but all at once the mirth faded and he looked straight ahead instead. He sighed like he was trying to deflate the tractor tire in his chest at the thought of you selling yourself at all, even if it was just some stupid joke.

“Too bad that’s not your mutation then, huh?” His voice was gruff and you settled into your chair, feeling admonished.

You were sure Logan would get up and leave shortly after, he often did when the conversation around him died. But for some reason, he just stayed there, staring at the wall that made up the space of the two large windows that overlooked part of the garden. It was a beautiful night, summer not quite gone, fall not quite cold. 

But here Logan was, just stared at the wallpaper instead.

“You sure you’re ok, Logan?” You ask. You’d reread the same page three times, worrying too much about him to comprehend the story.

“Hmm?” Logan hummed. “Yeah, ‘m fine,” 

“Are you falling asleep with your eyes open?” You pressed, trying to sound like you weren’t worried.

“Come here for a minute,” His face turned to you and it almost looked like he was staring through you. Only, somehow, he was looking at you too. Like maybe he wanted to look into your head and figure out what he needed to say to make you understand. “Please,” He extended his hand to you and, while you weren’t sure exactly what it was in his voice that drew you in, you let it bring you close enough to take his hand. 

He easily pulled you from your chair and into his lap, much to your chagrin. 

“Logan!” You tried to chide him, but at the same time, it felt nice to be close to him.

“Just,” You felt him sigh as he gave into whatever demons were plaguing him. “Just let me hold you for a minute, would you?” Logan laid his forehead on your shoulder, his arms closed around you, holding you to him.

“Ok,” You whispered into his hair. Your arms folded around his neck, one hand coming up to cradle the back of his head. It felt natural to sink your fingers into his hair and scratch gently at his scalp.

Part of you wanted to ask what this was, what it meant. But you were too afraid to break the moment. Too afraid to hear him say it meant nothing at all.

But, as all things must, the moment ended anyway. No matter how much you wanted it to last and last and last.

Logan leaned back against the plush of the chair so he could look up at you. There was a soft smile on his face, like he’d finally seen the sunset he’d been waiting for. You blushed under his scrutiny.

“What?” You chuckle nervously.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” Was his reply and you shook your head, knowing he didn’t really mean it. Why would he? How could he? You knew what you looked like.

“Stop it,��� You were about to make some comment about how he wouldn’t be stupid or blind enough to mean that when you felt his hand move from your side to your cheek. The action paused whatever joke you were aiming to hide behind.

“No, you stop,” Logan said, almost sounding angry. But his hand on your face was gentle. “Everytime I try to love you, you shut me out, and yet you still stay here and let me do it… why?” 

“It’s easier to make jokes,” You said before you could stop yourself. “I mean, we’re friends, and you tease me sometimes, and…” Every excuse you normally told yourself, every way you’d phrased ‘of course he doesn’t want to love you’ to hurt yourself with, every joke you’d made to keep him at arms length, suddenly crumbled under the realization of what he’d said. 

“And?” Logan pressed, his hand returning to your thigh to mirror the other. You couldn’t look him in the eye, even sitting on his lap, his hands both rubbing soothing circles on your plush thighs, you weren’t sure you could face the real elephant in the room.

But something told you to face it anyway.

“And… I don’t know how to tell you I love you,” your voice was small in the dimly lit room. It wasn’t hard to pretend there was no one and nothing outside of that one old armchair you were both sharing. “I wish I did, but I just… don’t,” You added lamely. Your eyes darted up to his long enough to catch the way his entire face softened at your confession. 

“Sweetheart,” Logan’s voice was almost a moan. When you only stared at him, experiencing the horror of being perceived, he chuckled. “I want to kiss you now,” 

“You do?” You wanted to kick yourself in the head for even asking.

“Mhmm,” His hands tugged you closer, digging into the meat of your thighs just enough. You just nodded, knowing if you opened your mouth something else lame would fall out. With a smile, Logan closed the small distance between you and covered your mouth with his.

As your arms closed around him again, and the kiss deepened, you realized it didn’t really matter if you knew how to tell him you loved him. Because you could show him. In the way you teased him, in the way that you’d hold his hand after breakfast tomorrow, in the way that your face would always get warm when he looked at you too long.

In the way that you kissed him right here and right now and every day going forward if you could.

And he may have looked at you like you were the sunset he’d longed for, but the sun only ever sets so that it can rise again tomorrow. So you could always show him how much you loved him again tomorrow.

[Masterlist]

[Logan Masterlist]

Likes/comments/reblogs directly correlate to how much fanfiction/fanart you see ;)

[nothingenoughao3]

Why we wanna transition to Mad Scientist (or, revulsion and queerness in horror)

(Hi, @ash-eats-film! This is the thing I mentioned!)

Horror has a few baseline emotions it tries to inflict on the audience. This has been written about for decades, most famously by Stephen King, but the baseline elements most writers agree on are as follows.

Dread: Anxiety over what is about to happen

Terror: The fear of what is occurring right this second

Revulsion: Being forced to interact directly with what's happening right now

Black comedy: Being tricked into laughing at either the terror or the revulsion

Horror: The trauma response to what just happened

A great example of this can be seen in The Evil Dead II (YT link that doesn't include the full context, but does have the, uh, money shot). There's the dread of realizing there's something in the root cellar; the terror of when the Deadite pops up in the trapdoor; the combined revulsion and black comedy of Ash jumping on the Deadite's skull/the door, popping out its eyeball which shoots into Bobby Joe's mouth, and then the horror of what just went down rolling over Ash and his current companions.

Often, revulsion and black comedy go hand in hand. That's because they're tension relievers. The revolting thing becomes ridiculous, and you laugh at how ridiculous it is. This lets you settle down in the midst of the gore and death, just slightly, just enough to get through it... so the horror can fully set in for you, too, once it's over.

You also, often, question your own stability if you laugh in the middle of a gross-out horror scene: "Am I sick? Is there something wrong with me for laughing at X?" This is even worse if the villain starts laughing--now you're questioning whether you're IDing with the monster. Are you okay? Is something wrong with you?

Revulsion is often framed as the slutty member of the good, proper, morally-upright brigade of horror. We have a name for folks who seek out gross-out horror--they're gore-hounds, a term that is virtually always pejorative when applied to other people. We call certain types of horror "torture porn" or "gore porn", as though it is inherently sleazy and sexual to rely on this specific emotional reaction. (Note that we don't have "black comedy-porn", or "dread hounds", even though a dread hound sounds really fucking cool.)

Not to go off on a huge tangent, but I think the issue with media that overly relies on revulsion is that it's unbalanced, not that it's bad. A movie that's nothing but dread never has any emotional payoff. A movie that's nothing but terror never lets the audience relax back into their seats and, paradoxically, will become boring (imagine two hours of jumpscares).

So forth and so on: all aspects of horror rely on each other to survive. That includes scenes that make you go "Awww, sick" while nervously cackling.

Here's the thing: in previous generations, revulsion was similarly understood to be an essential part of horror, but what led to a revolted reaction was very different.

Lovecraft (boo this man! BOOOOO) understood the power of revulsion, which was the source of a lot of his strangest and most vivid descriptions. It was also the source of some of his most bigoted ideas working into his stories. The undercurrent of "non-WASPs are evil because they are repulsive" is as pervasive in his work as "the universe is incomprehensibly vast". You kind of can't get around that.

But there's another thing Lovecraft did to generate revulsion. He wrote a number of stories where an unhealthy focus on corpses, graveyards, graverobbing, and the like is, indirectly or directly, associated with sexual perversion. 

How many, you may ask? Off the top of my head, there's "The Loved Dead", "In the Vault", "The Disinterment", "Pickman's Model", The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath, "The Hound" and "Herbert West: Re-Animator". All of these tales share certain themes, which don't repeat beat-for-beat in each tale but do overlap:

Male character becomes obsessed with dead bodies--whether that's stealing them, having sex with them, desecrating them, or resurrecting them.

He is comfortable around death and the dead to a degree that is unusual, sometimes explicitly stating that he prefers the smells/sights of death to those of life.

Terms like "fiendish", "hellish", "abnormal" and "perverse" are used to describe him; his gaze towards dead bodies or to experiments may be framed as "leering" or "speculative".

He is frequently a twink; often described as being frail, if not noticeably beautiful; he may recall being mocked for being "bookish" or "weak" as a child.

He is superficially charming in a way that gets him by in polite society, but not long-term nor in-depth.

He often ensnares an otherwise "normal" man to share his obsessions, effectively recruiting him as an assistant... until the "normal" guy realizes he's about to go on the chopping block (or, in at least one story, already was on the chopping block).

Their crimes involve a lot of sneaking around late at night, locked doors, whispering so they don't get caught (or they'll be killed), secretiveness, glee at getting away with it, and frequently, sharing the same living space.

The Unrepentant Evil Dude is often killed at the end of his tale in a way that implies vigilante/mob justice is at hand. 

The other may be allowed to live if he's very sorry and frames the whole story as being the fault of the other guy, or he may die too while affirming his horrible demise as just, even if it terrifies him.

(One could make an argument that Wilbur Whateley fits into some of these tropes. It's me I'm one)

If this all sounds very gay, Lovecraft probably would have agreed. He had as dim a view of homosexuality as he did on most other things that were Outside The Norm. In other words, we were supposed to see Richard Upton Pickman with his ghouls and think, "Ah, yes, this is a metaphor for queerness", only we were supposed to be revolted by that revelation.

This same attempt at revulsion can be easily read into Victor Frankenstein, and probably more Mad Scientists than I can name offhand (but feel free to in reblogs). Frankenstein's "crimes against nature" were connected to dead bodies as well, and likewise involved a lot of sneaking around, locked doors, and worry about what would happen were he caught with this naked man-thing he's keeping in his dorm. His crime, as with his parody character Herbert West, is creating life outside the bounds of heterosexual cisgender sex. This was meant to revolt readers' sensibilities as much as the whole cutting-up-corpses-and-stitching-them-back-together thing would.

This is why, if we're being honest, "Re-Animator" and "Bride of Re-Animator" are not necessarily gay… they're homophobic. This might be controversial, but stick with me.

I feel like Gordon and Yuzna were tapping into that old-fashioned Revulsion Handbook, including from the source material, which thematically linked Herbert West with queerness. (I'm using "queer" a lot here, but I would personally include trans-friendly readings under that rubric; I'm using "queer" in the analytical sense and not solely in the identity sense.) This means that, ironically, a lot of what we could point to as queer subtext is actually homophobic text.

This is reinforced by the novelization of the first film, written by a homophobe who got Trumpist brainworms later in life. He wanted to make West repulsive to the reader, and therefore, he tried to make West more gay. And IT WORKED. 

To be clear, I'm not accusing anybody, other than the novelist, of being a homophobe. There's a difference between possessing internalized bigoted beliefs which express themselves in writing, versus utilizing tropes originating in bigotry because That's What's Done Around Here. (I can understand why others might not perceive a meaningful difference.) Like the Cuzco lizards, this queerness-as-villainy is definitely a stupid thing ported in from the source material.

I do think that this is why everybody but Our Queen Barbara Crampton seems embarrassed or nonplussed by all the transfags pestering them about fellatio tapes. It's because they don't get why this thing appeals so much to us. It shouldn't. If anything, they should be canceled for having yet another queer-coded villain, along with a number of other plot choices of questionable taste (I'm looking at you, The Head Scene, and I don't like what I see).

Only, uh, it didn't work out that way long-term, did it?

I thank Cronenberg and venereal horror for this, in part. Brutally queer despite not being explicitly gay, venereal horror is what happens when the characters should be revolted, but aren't. 

This kind of thing is horrifying for crossing the line twice: first by being disgusting, then by having characters respond as though it is exciting, or sexually stimulating, or if nothing else, normal. They are perverse. They leer at the dead and the subjects of their experiments. And the disgusting monsters at the center of these narratives are celebrated. Their twisted sexualities are explored with the same brave frankness other filmmakers give to milquetoast cishet missionary nonsense. Their political views are given life and air, and usually, they're right. Their deaths, if they come at all, are framed as tragedies brought on by society's sick rejection of the flesh their brave experimentation.

Cronenberg's the dude who unironically thinks that Shivers (trigger warning for literally everything) has a happy ending. My man David's got subscriptions where others have issues.

Venereal horror has given us a new metaframework for looking at the repulsive, the monstrous, and the problematic and responding to it… differently.

Now here's another thing: Lovecraft likewise provided a structure for embracing the grotesque and the queer.

Pickman, the Decadent artist, paints photorealistic, enormous portraits of ghouls. Literal flesh-eaters. He is fascinated by them, comfortable with them. "Model" heavily implies that Pickman is a ghoul changeling--switched at birth with a human child. This leans into Lovecraft's ideas about heritability being a major source of horror, of course, and seems run of the mill until you get to The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath.

In there, Pickman appears again, but this time as a ghoul. He has cast off his human social shackles and joined the beings he loves, beings who understand him and support him. Kadath is notable in that the ghouls are actually... like... reliable, loyal, and morally good? Carter's opinion pretty much is, "They do eat human corpses and they smell awful, but they're all very nice and want to help me on my quest, so maybe they're not so bad (if not as good as the cat army)".

This feels like Lovecraft acknowledging that his entire approach of linking queerness, death, and revulsion is fundamentally flawed. Once you become familiar with the repulsive, it becomes not-really-that-repulsive-at-all. You can find beauty in it, and amusement, and love. Pickman embracing his ghoulish nature isn't all that different from Seth Brundle's overall lack of revulsion at his body's transformation. And it's not that different from what a lot of transmasculine folks go through, either.

It's not that transmascs, trans men, and/or transfags don't see what West does as crimes against nature. It's that we're all very fucking tired of being accused of crimes against nature. We're tired of not being able to look at socmed without finding accusations that we're disgusting perverts who sneak around behind closed doors to corrupt innocent, promising people to be our lackeys and partners in crime.

Hell, I refer to my wife as "my partner in crime" not because it's a cute way of acknowledging how well and how much we work together both in life and creativity. It's also because we could have been arrested for our relationship when we got together.

We were illegal.

There was a lot of sneaking around and whispering and trying not to get caught and "what if they call the cops on us if we're clocked". Can I tell my friends about this? Will they reject me or rat me out? Where am I safe? Nowhere. Best to lock the door and then check it again to be sure. Best to be very quiet.

Best to act like a graverobber trying to get their grisly wares back home before good, decent, Christian folk see them.

So when I hear "Blasphemy? Before what God?!", I read it as (whether he's ace or aro, gay or achillean, trans man or transmasc or genderfucked) a queer slogan of defiance, instead of a defense of graverobbing, corpse desecration, and non-consensual resurrection.

We're told we and our bodies are repulsive, so being told that Herbert is also repulsive makes him more relatable. Instead of wondering what the hell's wrong with him for shooting up reagent, we all theorize that it's actually T or has similar effects--because we're all told that T is a toxin that will horribly change and disfigure our bodies. He dresses in a three-piece suit for school, and instead of reading him as a stiff and overly-formal little freak, we assume he's layering up because he hasn't found a hoodie he likes yet. 

He cackles at his horrific creations, and instead of saying "What a fucking freak (anguished)", we say "What a fucking freak (affectionate)" and laugh along with him. Who among us hasn't taken apart our Barbies and tried to combine their parts with the Kens? What is a doll, or a human, but a collection of parts to be rearranged? Haven't we also been told we're freaks for rearranging our own parts?

We've already been told by society at large that we are Herbert West. We're just embracing it, in the proud tradition of venereal horror fans who are not revolted when they ought to be, and I think that's delightful.

[woso-lover234]

Can you do a fic where r and kyra get into this huge argument calling themselves names etc abd throwing a few punchs at each other until the other mitlidas had to come and sperate both of them and they both ignore each other until the team forces them to talk it out and kyra would be like no she doesn't want to talk to miss so called prefect" because she overheard others talking about how r was way mature than her and other stuff

Matildas + kcc x (platonic) reader- fights

you and Kyra were like two peas in a pod. always together with Charli, mini and harper causing trouble together and you stopping her from taking pranks too far so she doesn't get into trouble. Your Matildas and Arsenal teammates often joke that even though your the younger of the pair of you were more mature which wouldn't be a lie but it worked for the two of you with you're similar yet not clashing personalities. She made your life more interesting and you made sure she didn't get into too much trouble as she didn't think fully before she did stuff when you did. You knew of the jokes shared and honestly you were fine with them, they were harmless anyways.

"What is your problem?" You asked sitting next to Kyra at breakfast as she had been ignoring you the whole morning but she just stood up with her food tray and storming out of the room without a second glance. All of your team mates eyes were on you now with questioning looks which you just shrugged with confusion and anger written all over your face before you continued eating.

Before training the two or you ran into each other again which was bound to happen since you guys were room mates.

"Watch it" Kyra said shoving past you to get to the bathroom as you looked at her in shock before shoving her. You knew it was childish but you were sick of her shit and weren't gonna take it anymore. She turned around after she caught her balance and glared at you as you crossed your arms over your chest and glared back

"Seriously what is your problem with me today?" You asked raising your hands up before slapping them against your sides in frustration

"if your so much smarter than me then you would know" she shot back and that left you confused but your frustration and anger overpowered that as you said something you will come to regret later

"Well if you worried about the so called people you called your family and not just yourself you would realise I didn't know and that your making a big deal out of nothing" you practically screamed but her demeanour didn't stutter as she still looked at you with venom in her eyes

"Acting as if you didn't know" she scoffed "I'm sorry not everyone has to try be perfect to get people's attention! Just because your parents were hard on you and you had to be fight for their attention doesn't mean you have to outshine everyone else and make everyone look bad just to get over your mummy and daddy issues! She yelled as you stood there. She knew she had hit a nerve with that one as she smirked to herself and you lost it and launched at her. You were pulling her hair as she was trying to shove you off of her but you didn't let go as the two of you rolled around on the floor and bumped into multiple things which caught the attention of wandering Matilda's.

"Get off of me!" Kyra yelled at you as she again tried to shove you off

"No!" You yelled back in her face as she went to push you back but instead ended up hitting you in the face which angered you and caused you to punch her back which then turned into a slight boxing match as the two of you continued to roll around on the floor alternating who was on the bottom and receiving  the punches while the person on top tried to stay there.

Eventually Sam and Steph came in followed by mini, Caitlin, Alanna and charli who separated the two of you. Sam and Caitlin pulled you off of Kyra as you tried to fight out of their grasp as Alanna and macca grabbed Kyra. Once the both of you realized you weren't getting released the both of yous flopped in the designated older girls grip as mini looked between the two of you with a shocked expression and waiting for one of you to talk. You avoided eternally contact not wanting to explain what had happened which mini caught onto

"One of you better start explaining or so help me" she started as neither you or Kyra started or had the intention of talking about what happened. "By the end of dinner tonight this better be sorted because there is a game this weekend and I'm not letting this get in the way of yours and your team mates performances and if it isn't I will make sure you's don't play" mini finished as Steph and Sam nodded along in agreement while both you and Kyra nodded before being let go as you bolted to the door to go have your own space to go over what had just happened.

You and Kyra avoided each other for the rest of the day until dinner where Steph and Sam forced you two to sit at a table together with each other and the captain and co captain and by then you could see the big bruise coming in on her cheek as you smiled to yourself slightly but quickly wiped it off your face when you saw mini giving you a 'really?' look from the table next to you.

"Ok Kyra explain" Sam said looking to Kyra expectantly

"No I don't want to speak to miss perfect" Kyra scoffed as your rolled your eyes

"What does that even mean?" You asked over the fight and just wanting to be joking with your best friend again

"It means I'm sick of being second best to you! Everyone thinks so!" She finally made eye contact with you and Steph and Sam held guilty looks

"You're not second best to me we're equal" you said with a sincere eye which made Kyra feel bad considering she could barely see the other one due to swelling and a forming bruise.

"Nah I'm obviously the better fighter" she said in a joking voice as you laughed loudly which caught the attention of most of the girls in the dining room

"You guys all good then?" Caitlin asked from another table as you looked at her and nodded as she now held a shocked expression "Damn y/n/n that's quite the shiner you got there" she said as you laughed slightly and rolled your eye before turning back to Kyra who held a guilty face but before she could talk Sam and Steph had beaten her to it

"We're really sorry guys" Sam said as Steph nodded

"This is all our fault" Steph said looking down "me and Sam were talking in the locker room before breakfast today about the under 21's young player of the year nominations and we're saying how y/n/n would be perfect for it she was we didn't mean for it to sound different" she said as you and Myra shared a look before reassuring them it was ok and that if you guys had communicated better none of this probably wouldn't of happened which caused all of you to laugh

"You guys are like siblings at this point. Ignoring each other when something has happened, fist fights and making up like nothing happened" mini said as she walked past to put her dinner plate away and ruffle both yours and Kyra's hair up which you both shook off which again made everyone laughed at your same reaction "but that can't happen again" she said sternly as you both nodded "at least not to that extent, siblings are allowed to fight sometimes" she added with a wink before walking away.

"I'm sorry about your eye" Kyra said later that night as you both got ready for bed

"It's ok I'm sorry about your cheek" you said as you both laughed again and hugged it out before heading to bed.

You couldn't play the game that week due to your eye but neither could Kyra who had insisted that she shouldn't play considering it was her fault you were off. The team ended up winning 3-0 at the first game against Uzbekistan as you prepared for the second game which you made sure you would be able to play.

[theoneandonlycoralinejones]

Some General Ericson's Kids Headcannons

Louis

Despite it being the zombie apocalypse, he still takes a great care in his appearance. Maybe this could be tied back to his insecurities, but he generally just finds comfort in looking nice. He kept a few colognes from before, and maybe even still has a few hair products. Of course he’d had to be resourceful to make them last this long, probably pours water into the almost empty cologne bottles to make them last longer. He also just dislikes being dirty in general, always wiping down his clothes and typically taking breaks to freshen up. 

He wants to keep the artistic spirit alive, even in the apocalypse, and he really admires people who feel the same. Everyone knows he loves piano, but when somebody actually shows interest in it he can't help but get giddy. He can ramble about musicians and songs for hours and hours and hours, and if you ever found him some new records or sheet music you'd officially be his new favorite person; ever.

Definitely was an only child; his parents put all of their focus on him, watched his every move. He was expected to get good grades, go to a good college, get a hard well-paying job afterwards. He was definitely spoiled money-wise, but his family lacked in the love and affection department. 

Violet

I’d like to think that if she ever got the chance to, she’d try to give herself a piercing. Obviously it’d be unsanitary and sort of implausible during the apocalypse, but if you think about it, all she’d need would be a needle, the piercing itself, and some sort of disinfectant, so it could possibly happen. If she did get one, probably an eyebrow piercing or a septum. She definitely isn’t the type to care too much about her appearance, but she would feel super cool having a piercing. (She wouldn’t say it though, lol)

Violet lacked any sort of hobby in the game, and this upset me. (Ruby has gardening/being a nurse, Louis has music, Tenn has art, Mitch has weapons, Omar has cooking, Aasim has writing, etc.) I feel like if she had a hobby it'd be something she'd do in secret, maybe poetry or writing songs. She definitely is the type of person to bottle her emotions up, so writing poems about it would definitely be a nice way to cope with them. She’d never share her poetry with anyone though, it's just her thing; she's way too embarrassed of it. 

If she was able to listen to any music she would definitely like indie or punk music. (Pavement, she would LOVE pavement) She’s definitely the type of person to crush on more alternative people, so I could see her trying to get into goth music just to impress a girl she likes. 

Marlon

It's obvious that he's definitely got some hefty mental issues going on, he's the type of person to bottle things up forever till he just blows up. He panics a lot in tough situations, scrambles to fix things himself, but has a hard time making things work out alone. I'd imagine his parents were probably perfectionists of some sort; who pushed a lifestyle he didn't want onto him and he tried hard to succeed for them but could never be enough. Eventually one day he acted out, sick of being forced to live a life he didn't want to live, and then was sent to Ericsons's.

A lot of people hate Marlon, for reasons that are obvious, but I really don't think he was a bad guy. He was simply misguided, and made mistakes. 

Seems like the type to smoke or drink as a way to cope. Did it more often before the apocalypse and when it first started but cigarettes and alcohol are pretty much nonexistent near Ericson’s now so he was forced to quit. 

Mitch

I see many people sort of stereotype Mitch as just this guy who likes carving knives and making bombs, which definitely is true, but I think there’s much more to him. He has a very rebellious personality which leads me to believe he probably grew up in a home where being rebellious was necessary to get any attention from his neglectful parents. They are in the boarding school for a reason, so he probably was the type of kid that almost burnt down his house or something.

Definitely seems like the type to be a big softie once you get to know him. Certainly not the type to be all soft in public, but if you're spending time one on one his more gentle side will show. 

Ruby 

She has such a motherly vibe to her, so caring and sweet. Even hands out some tough love when needed. I think that's one of the reasons why she likes the greenhouse so much, she loves to take care of things; plants included. (Obviously she also liked it because of Ms. Martin, but yk)

She's certainly not the type to accept compliments easily, she just can't imagine that when people compliment her they're telling the truth. I'd imagine that the reason she punches Aasim If you dare him to kiss her is because she thinks he's playing a prank on her or something; she just finds it hard to believe that somebody would like her. (I love her, Ruby is my bae omg)