#i have horrible skin problems entirely from my body

[heavenly-kazee]

If you ever wondered where I have been yesterday the entire time just don't panic from this post.

Firstly, there was no electricity and secondly, there are no bar lines. It stayed like that until almost 5pm in the evening, it lasted 8 hours because I got up around 9:30 am at that time when it happened

Sooo yeah, just a typical village problem but it wasn't that severe in the past. Though I still blame people for moving in villages to retired in (I understand it's breathtaking but please stop lit garbages on fire, you're making my asthma worse)

Jeez, older people these days. I can't stand looking at the trees being chopped off just for the housing in villages ffs-

And by that, making the country more unliveable thanks to geographic placement in Southeast Asia (I found out Malaysia and other countries won't be able to survive so soon with El Nino getting worsen)

Makes my body wanting to crawl to my brother's place for help lol

[evilminji]

Okay... so it COULD be because, as a writer, I'm an ASSHOLE to my Characters...

BUT YOU KNOW WHAT'D BE FUNNY?

Danny, innocent, gets YEETED into DC. As ya do. And he's a bit messed up. But! He's a Baby Ancient in the making. Gonna be master of Spaaaaaace(~~~☆!) one day. Very exciting, only slightly relevant.

See, Ectoplasm? Dumb. That's why we need Cores and Brains etc. Never let Ectoplasm decide things. It WILL chose the "technically correct but now the buildings on fire" option EVERY SINGLE TIME. And you are running out of fire extinguishers.

Because it is dumb.

Very, VERY No Brain, Just Goo, Dumb.

And THIS Goo has a life to save. A Halfa too maintain in Peak Performance(tm). Because THIS Goo is VERY smart Goo(according only to itself) and TOTALLY knows what it's doing! Damaged meat bits? Oh that's EASY! You just FIX that! Replace with meat bits! See? It's BRILLIANT Goo. 10 out of 10 stars, me!

Small problem.

The instructions have been damaged.

PANIC.

Wait! No! We got this! We are Very Smart Goo(tm). And have Space Powers. This is FINE. We'll... we'll just FIX the instructions! Hand me a hammer! If we smash enough bits together, it'll sort? Of look right? Close ENOUGH? Yeeeeeah. We're GENIUS Goo~

Use THAT!

But where did they GET their ill begotten DNA? Well OBVIOUSLY the place all the OTHER DNA they had was stored, DUH? Keep up, says the Goo with literally no braincells making horrifying choices for an unconscious man. It's Earth.

As in... the planet.

It's not even HIS planet. It's AN Earth. A Planet CALLED "Earth" that dwells in the DC universe, not his, and is covered with ZERO(0) Fentons but plenty of superhumans and aliens. THAT planet.

The Goo grabbed the Very BESTEST Meat Instructions it could FIND! The Goo is also a collective and did not AGREE on what the "Best" WAS. But it's... okay, no, I can't lie to you, it is NOT fine.

But thankfully it IS stable.

Because Ectoplasm may be dumb and indiscriminate as super-bacteria with a flamethrower, but it is a MASTER at the jigsaw of Life. It can reanimate ANYTHING.

Including the now SINGLE MOST CHIMERAD MAN you've ever SEEN. Who is he related too? YES. His left knee is Kryptonian, the fingers on his right hand are Tameranian, his skin tone has shifted to the most ambiguously multi-ethnic tone imaginable (think that future of humanity mock up, where they combine every ethnicity on the premise that inter-racial marriage will becoming increasingly common up to the point where we all just kinda look averaged out thanks to the ease of travel) because it's trying to do all of them at once and none of them are willing to back down, because all of them got the instructions "Be Skin". He might have Slade Wilson's cheek bones and hair.

Danny wakes up and basicly is half Ectoplasmic Goo, half the extended Super Community.

AND CANT GET BACK HOME TO FIX IT.

Because of course this IS fixable. It's just medical shape-shifting. But without HIS template, undamaged. His body is REFUSING to change from what is OBVIOUSLY the CORRECT form. And he keeps getting clocked as "probably related to me".

With the Fenton Luck kicking in? The parts of him people manage to swab and/or get DNA from? Keep MATCHING them. Danny doesn't know WHO is behind this but-! *spots a giggle child with a cat* !!!!!!

You.

Klarion you little SHIT!

So now he's wearing a face that's BARELY his, running from very determined superhumans who want to parent him, trying to steal enough technology to build a portal. AND vowing to kick the witch boy's ASS.

This ISNT FUNNY, KLARION.

His body is Frankenstein's FEVER DREAM! Every time he gets hurt, it tries to "FIX" itself! He lost a chunk of his should back there and HIS ENTIRE BODY CHANGED SKIN TONES. He's pretty sure if he SITS funny, his teeth might fall out and regrow POINTY! He's handing you over to WALKER you horrible little gremlin child!

Just? Take the "Danny is related to X" and "Danny is sick" and turn them uuuuup. Make EVERYBODY concerned except Danny. This is just another fucked up adventure in a long string of fucked up adventures. Give him his DNA back. If he has to suffer the Fenton Luck then he should AT LEAST get to keep the Fenton "built like a tank"!

*gets hit again*

*is GREEN now for some reason* The fuck?

Garfield, aka Beast Boy: I HAVE A CLONE SON!?

Danny: Zone DAMN IT not another one!

@ailithnight @hdgnj @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter

[moonblossom7]

Lucifer x gender neutral reader

Could be platonic or romantic, depends how u look at it.

Genre: comfort/ very light angst (maybe)

Warnings: anxiety, light suicidal thoughts 

A/N : I wrote this while I was low-key spiraling about how some important parts of my future are entirely out of my control, so while I tried to make sure it was generic comfort, some parts might be me specific idk

God, you felt sick. It felt like there was a storm in your stomach or maybe a witch's cauldron. Either way it was a horrible, queasy, twisting feeling. You tried your hardest to ignore it. you knew focusing on the feeling the thoughts caused only made it worse. But God, this was awful.

It felt like there was an elephant sitting on your chest and lead in your very soul. And your mind was running a million miles a minute. Bouncing from horrible thought to unlikely solution to worse case scenario and then around and around in an endless loop.

You tried to reason with yourself. The worse that can happen is dying, and death isn't so bad... But maybe the path to it was. There were so many ways it could happen, so much that could cause it, and maybe it might be better to do it yourself,at least that takes the 'what if' out of it. But then everyone would be sad, and do you really wanna die? No,not really, you just want to feel better. But it's not really possible to feel better,is it?

You decided to just get out of your room. Maybe go visit Luke, he could always cheer you up. Or curl up for a nap with Belphie. You were sure you could bribe him into making sure you have pleasant dreams.

You'd be grateful for any distraction from anyone.

You were so lost in thought, the awful combination of trying to find a solution with the anxious onslaught of unsettling thoughts, that you turned a corner and actually walked right in to Lucifer.

"Ouch" you mumbled, rubbing where you'd hit him just a bit harder than your body cared for. "I'm so sorry" you said quickly, looking up at him. You stammered your way through an excessive apology, but Lucifer was hardly listening.

"Are you alright?" He interrupted. "You look... unwell." Unwell was an understatement. Your skin had taken on a shade so pale that you could blend in amongst ghosts and you were more than a little shaky.

You nodded. He gave you a questioning look, to which you sighed and said,"Not really but..." Your voice trailed off and you shrugged.Lucifer studied you for a moment. He then turned, walking off to the kitchen. "Follow me."

Now, usually you'd argue a little, just for fun,say that he couldn't just boss you around and all that. But you hardly had the energy so you just followed a few steps behind.

Once in the kitchen, Lucifer began digging around in cabinets and looking through shelves. He sat aside some odd looking herbs and berries,or at least they looked odd to you.

"Tell me what's bothering you" he said,as he began making tea of some kind. You just watched for a minute, trying to remember if you'd ever seen him do something like this. It was a domestic thing, and you tended to think of him as too serious and professional to do anything of the sort.

Slowly, you began to tell him what was causing your problems, trying very hard not to say it a way that made it seem dumb. He listened attentively, nodding and humming occasionally to show he was listening.

"Well, my dear... your worries are certainly nothing I've experienced, however...I do sympathize." He said after a while, passing you a cup of tea. You took a sip, and it was horribly bitter at first. The bitterness gave way to warmth and a pleasant, slightly sluggish feeling though, so you kept drinking.

"I think you're thinking too much in absolutes." Lucifer said gently. "There is always a tomorrow. There is always an end to things, even if they seem daunting and like you won't survive them. This will pass,as all things do. In the meantime, do what you can to find hope."

You nodded. This was much more optimistic than you'd expect from him, but it was a good change of pace.

"You aren't alone in this." He continued. "You have your friends, your family..." He placed his hand on yours and looked into your eyes, like it was crucial you pay attention. "And you have me. I'm here for you, and I will be for as long as you need me."

You smiled. "Thank you." You mumbled.

"Of course. Now, how about we go somewhere comfortable-a spot by the fire, perhaps? And get you calmed down more?" Lucifer said, kindly. You agreed, taking your mug and following him. The two of you settled in by the fire. Lucifer wrapped a blanket around you as casually as he could manage.

He watched you as you watched the flames. He saw the muscles in your face relax and the color return to your cheeks. He preferred this. He knew he could be aggravating to you sometimes, other times frightening, but he always preferred when he managed to make you feel at peace. 

You leaned against him, the dread in your stomach slowly melting away. You didn't know if it was the tea or his company, but you were glad something made you feel better. Lucifer held you close. "I'm here for you." He said again. "And I always will be."

[its-time-to-write]

I AM RUSHING TO GET THIS IN!!!

Friends to lovers maybe with a disabled reader?? Maybe she's someone he knew from back home who he runs into at a diner she's working at now. Maybe she feels like he abandoned her and her life fell apart when he moved away?

ANyway love you lots!!!

warning: there’s a lot of parentheses (it’s a choice) and a lot of swearing (I do what I want)

reader’s dialogue/feelings are based off my own experiences so if u read this and are like ??? don’t worry about it. i’m just projecting. the chronic illness is unspecified.

LOVE U BABE

you’ll probably date her

It’s hard enough growing up in a council estate in a shit part of Manchester (although you’d staunchly defend there’s no such thing as a shit part of Manchester) but it’s harder with fucking chronic illness. It manifests is clumsiness (joint pain), fidgeting (widespread pain), and bruising (skin problems).

Not to mention the fucking tiredness.

School is complete shit all the time, and life is complete shit all the time too. 

Okay fine, not all the time, but a lot of the time.

There are bright spots in between flare ups, bright spots that consist of learning how to bake with Simon (Jamie’s stepdad) and petting Roy (Jamie’s cat) and watching horribly cheesy movies with Georgie (Jamie’s mum).

Oh, and Jamie. 

You’ve known Jamie since birth, probably, when your mum brought you home and Jamie sat down on the saggy couch, aged two, and asked, “When does it open its eyes?”

He took it upon himself to look after you, magnanimous in a way he would not have been if you were actually related to him (thank god). When he starts to get tired of you, he can go back home to his own room and his own mum and hug her tight without having to share her with anyone else.

When you’re three and he’s five, you get a diagnosis. Jamie says, “That’s shit,” when your mum tells him you can’t play, and you’re told that you echo him with your first swear. 

“That’s shit,” comes your tiny voice from the sofa, face down and covered in bags of frozen peas.

Your mum is too surprised by the first words you’ve said all day, that she a) doesn’t scold you and b) doesn’t catch Jamie as he slips by her into the house. He sits on the floor and starts to tell you about primary school and helps your mum when it’s time to put the peas back in the slightly-broken freezer.

It goes like that for years. 

When you’re feeling well, you kick a football around with Jamie. When you’re feeling poorly, he climbs the steps to your room and tells you things, anything at all to distract you from the pain ripping through your body.

It’s nice. It makes you feel, like, someone cares, almost? Or someone understands? Or maybe the world isn’t carrying on without you, that a piece of it does stop when you do, and maybe you aren’t entirely alone.

You first realize you like Jamie (like-like) when you’re twelve and it feels like ice-cold water has been poured on your head, but not exactly in an unwelcoming way.

A shock, sure, but a soothing one.

You don’t tell him, but you think he probably knows. He’s not an idiot, he’s had girls swooning all over him since he was eight. 

(And your mum knows, and she and Georgie talk, and Georgie tells Jamie to be extra nice to you and maybe a little bit careful not to be mean about it.)

He carefully slips on your small bed when you’re fifteen and he’s sixteen (almost seventeen, but it’s the one time of the year when you’re only a year apart) and balances on his side so he can look at you.

“You’ll be alright?” he asks, and you don’t have to ask what he’s talking about.

He’s going to play for Manchester (City, not United, and not the Premier League Team), and it’s all you’ve been able to think about.

You don’t say anything, so he gingerly pats your head. It messes up your hair, but it also feels like tiny electric sparks are shooting through your body (not the pain kind).

He lays there for a long time, whispering about secondary school and football and making enough money to buy houses for everyone he’s ever loved, you included.

(He promises he’ll call all the time.)

—

He does call, until he doesn’t.

Some days are good, some days are bad, and now the bad days feel like they’re your fault.

“You’re overdoing it,” your boss says, “You need to slow down or you’ll be out sick tomorrow.”

You bite back the words I’m doing my fucking best, and just nod. Fuck him, and fuck this. You can work just the same as everyone else, pain be damned. There are fucking bills to pay and yeah, this shit hurts, but what the fuck are you supposed to do. Benefits aren’t enough at the moment, and it’s been a solid two years since you’ve given up on waiting for a knight in shining armor (even if that knight is in the Premier League now, just like he always swore he’d be).

Your boss is fucking right the fucker, but you push through on Friday (it’s fucking shit) and crash on Saturday (it’s even more fucking shit).

Your mum places bags of frozen fruit on your joints, rearranging the pillows on the floor. You’ve long since outgrown the couch, instead needing more space. Your dad moved the coffee table, saying, “It’s on its last legs anyway,” and the space you called a living room now became a treatment room of sorts.

Georgie and Simon come over all the time for family dinner (potluck-style) and they are comfortable enough step over you or sit down on the floor to talk.

It sounds worse than it is, but when they’re in the flat it feels better, all warm and glowy, like things are right.

Nights are the worst, with the moving around trying to get comfortable, so you’re awake bright and early on Sunday morning. Early enough to sit on a bench in front of the estates, bundled up in your duvet and puffing cold air out into the sky.

You hear footsteps splashing down the tunnel, someone on their way home after a long night. Or maybe it’s one of the many kids who like to sneak out to play footie in hopes that they’ll be the next Jamie Tartt.

He’s not that great, you want to tell them, except you don’t even believe it yourself. He is that great, he’ll always be that great, and you should have fucking known that he was going to fuck off and fuck a gorgeous, carefree model and not you. 

(Not that you want to fuck him. Well, you do, but you also want to, like, hold his hand.)

It was always going to end up this way, you should have known not to actually have real feelings for him, you should have left it at a childhood crush and not let yourself believe something could actually happen.

The footsteps pass you by, and it’s a man in a baseball hat and an awful silk-print tracksuit carrying a Gucci travel bag.

He’s out of place here, and you wonder if he’s lost. But no, he strides up to Georgie and Simon’s door like he owns the place, pulls out a key, and walks right in. It’s only after the door swings shut behind him that you realize it’s Jamie.

“Oh shit,” you whisper, clouds accompanying the words.

(You won’t admit it, but the surprise has rebooted your system a little bit, aching limbs forgotten for a moment.)

—

“This is shit,” you say as you lean on your fucking cane of all things. “It’s one thing if it’s Simon and Georgie, it’s another fucking thing if it’s Jamie fucking Tartt.”

“That’s a lot of fucking fucks,” your father says sagely, ignoring the glare you send his way and saying ow as your mum swats the back of his head.

“It’s only two fucks and one shit,” you tell him. “And I’m not going.”

“Then I’ll tell them to come over here,” your mum says placidly. 

Absolutely not. Also-fucking-lutely not.

“I am going to my room,” you say with dignity, turning to go back up the stairs.

Your dad waves, the prick. “Have fun,” he says helpfully. You flip him off without looking, and you know for a fact he’s doing it back. You know he’ll be up in an hour with a plate of dinner and sneak you early desert.

There is no fucking way you’re seeing Jamie after two years like this.

The cane is a relatively new development and sure, it’s helpful with walking sometimes, but a cane? The fuck were the doctors thinking when they suggested this? You’re barely twenty, not a damn convalescent. 

By the time you make it to your room, the doorbell’s ringing and voices are filling the flat. You reach for your bottle of pills and carefully tap the right amount into your hand (even though you know there is no drug on earth to calm down your traitor heart).

You lay down flat on your back with no immediate plans to move. You find your playlist and slip an earbud in, letting the music take you somewhere else. Somewhere where you don’t hurt for no reason, where you can focus like you’re supposed to, where you aren’t so damn tired all the time.

There’s a tap on your door.

“Come in,” you call to your dad, except the door opens and it’s Jamie, no longer in his stupid outfit from earlier, but in a nice jumper that you think might be Simon’s.

He smiles like he didn’t abandon you and sits down on the floor. You hand him the other earbud (it’s better than talking) and let Stevie Nicks croon in your ear.

“How’ve you been?” he asks (the prick) and you have half a mind to ignore him. 

“It’s been two years,” you remind him. “Try again.”

Jamie looks stricken. “Right, yeah, I know, it’s just- I’ve been busy.”

“Yup,” you reply. “Me too.”

(The cane is leaning on the wall by the door, and you need Jamie to not notice it.)

Jamie points to the cane. “That’s new.”

“Yep,” you say because it’s not the same as yup. It has a different vowel. It’s a different word, you’re having a civil conversation, your brain is making sentences just fine.

“I’m sorry,” he says. He sounds like he means it, which is worse. “I went through some shit, you know? It don’t excuse it, but… got a new gaffer, Keeley dumped me, then I got sent back to City right when I were getting better. It’s been shit. I’ve been shit,” he corrects.

Your arm’s falling asleep so you shift, trying to stifle a groan.

Jamie’s up in a moment, all concern. “You alright?”

“Clearly,” you gasp out as savagely as possible. “Fuck off, alright? I don’t need your pity, not now, so go find some other charity case.”

Fucking flare-ups. Fucking Jamie. Fucking chronic illness and its fucking lack of a cure.

Jamie looks like he’s been slapped. To be fair, you would if you could get in the right position.

“You’re not charity,” he says, and unfortunately (and again) he sounds like he fucking means it.

“Okay,” you say. “That’s fucking mint. Thanks for staying such a good friend all these years, it’s been real fucking fun. I’ve got to lie here in discomfort, so I imagine you’ll be leaving now. Goodbye.”

Jamie stares at you a moment, then leaves.

—

It’s a good day. It’s a good day and it’s raining and you don’t even care because it’s a good day. Nothing can ruin it (this isn’t a premonition) not even stupid Jamie showing up out of nowhere.

(It’s a little bit of a premonition.)

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing he says when he turns up in his mum’s kitchen, an hour before he’s supposed to be home. You’re supposed to be long gone by now, but you and Simon have cheese pinwheels in the oven that aren’t done for another twenty minutes, so now you’re stuck here until then.

“Fucking mint,” you say, just like the night before. Simon freezes but Georgie just rolls her eyes. 

“We’ll be in the other room, loves,” she says. “Jamie, don’t be a fucking idiot.”

You tell him, “I’m having a good day, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t fucking ruin it.”

“You’re not a charity case,” he says, and you think maybe he is broken, but like a record is broken, not like a teacup.

Jamie says, “I weren’t lying about going through shit,” and you snap (like a rubber band, not a bone).

“Big fucking deal, Jamie, you’ve been going through shit since you were six years old. I’ve been going through shit too, in case you didn’t fucking notice. It’s not an excuse to be a shitty person or a shitty friend,” you burst out.

“I didn’t say it as an excuse, it’s just a fucking reason,” Jamie shouts back. “Jesus Christ, you’re not the only person with fucking problems! You’re allowed to be mad shitty sometimes, I didn’t ever complain, so why’s it fucking different for me?”

You open your mouth to tell him why it’s fucking different, except you don’t actually have a reason. How many times did you sit with him as he iced his knee, or his face, or his arm while you iced your back, or your chest, or your legs?

Pain is pain, your fucking government-issued therapist had said. And shit if she isn’t right.

“You abandoned me,” you reply, voice small. “You left me for Keeley and I wouldn’t have minded, I really wouldn’t have. I just wanted to talk to you.”

Jamie rubs his face with a sigh. “Didn’t know how to talk to you, after. I knew you liked me since we were kids and I liked you too, so it felt fucking… weird. Dunno. But, I was with her because it was what I was supposed to do and she was mad fit and fucking funny. I’ve had a crush on her for fucking… ages.”

“Right,” you say, feeling one millimeter tall, “I get that.”

Jamie shakes his head and says, “Nah, you don’t.” (The fuck does he mean? He can’t read your mind).

“You don’t get it,” he continues. “Had a crush on her, didn’t I? Not the same as you. You were proper in love with me, and I…” he trails off.

“He was proper in love with you too,” comes Georgie’s voice.

Jamie turns bright red and you do too, and it’s like you’re kids again and he’s in your bed and you’re trying not to think about how close his lips are to yours.

“That’s… well, that’s…” You try and fail to come up with the right words.

“Yeah,” Jamie says, still blushing. “Yeah, suppose I was. Couldn’t do anything about it, then. Could do something about it now. If you’ve forgiven me.” He says it casually, like he won’t mind if you tell him to go away out of his own mum’s house and never return, when in reality he’ll burn up and die if you do.

“I will. I do,” you say. “I’m sorry too, I am. I can be a prick sometimes.”

Jamie shrugs, but he’s smiling a little. “I’m a prick all the time, love. Fucking… fucked childhood or some shit.”

“Some shit,” you echo. “So, proper in love with me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jamie says. “Proper. Wrote my first name with your last on every bit of paper I could get me hands on, didn’t I?”

“Fuck off,” you say with a grin.

“It’s true,” Simon shouts from the sofa. “Found some bits when I was cleaning one day.”

Wait. Simon didn’t move in until Jamie was a teenager. That means… 

“Oh my god, were you fifteen when you were writing that? You weren’t even a kid anymore! What the fuck Jamie, you had it bad!” you tease.

“Fuck off, it was just a stupid joke,” he says defensively.

“Uh huh, sounds like,” you say as you go to wrap your arms around him. “You liked me.”

“Fuck’s sake,” he grumbles, leaning down to kiss your head. He’s never going to fucking live this down.

[oh2e]

A (long) Collection of TTOI Quotes

He’s as useless as a marzipan dildo

I’m going to have to mop up a hurricane of piss here

He and Hewitt are tight as arse cheeks

‘How fucked am I? On the fuckometre?’ ‘Oh 12’ ‘yeah 12’ ‘out of what?’ ‘50’ ‘oh…. mine was out of 10’

Tiny little dick the size of a bookie’s biro

There’s no time to go home I’ll pass myself on the way back in

I can only cook with what I’m given. You give me Hugh Abbot I’ll give you bangers and mash, you give me Jerry from home office then I can raise it to fucking risotto and scallops

I am king of remembering my own password

‘Shagging your way to the top is it?’ ‘Yes well I’m not Scottish so I’ve got to get in somehow’

How much shit is on the menu and what flavour is it?

‘What do you want Malcolm’ ‘Two bits of tit. Two titties.’

Come the fuck in or fuck the fuck off

“What about just firing him at a wall from a cannon?” “I know we force feed him a mixture of garlic and Dettol in cup a soup” “What about the old red hot poker up the arse?” “I’d like to nail him to a tree through the head and watch lice slowing crawl over his body eating off all the flesh”

“Has security checked this [plant]?” “For little terrorists?”

This is the problem with the public - they’re fucking horrible

Not only was it a shit idea to ruin my holiday, it was a shit idea you stole from the government to ruin my holiday

Ah that’s like smoking dead skin that is

You’re the fucking shittest James Bond ever - you’re David Fucking Niven!

You’re like a sweaty octopus trying to unhook a bra

You take the piss outta [Al] Jolson again and I will remove your iPod from its tiny nano sheath and push it up your cock! Then I’ll plug some speakers up your arse and put it onto shuffle with my fucking fist

I thought you said no one reads these except political obsessives and mad Christians in wheelchairs but loads of people read mine

“I am not the story here” “Well no you kind of are though Malcolm, they spelled your name right and everything”

Come with me before I put your nuts in a book and squeeze them so hard that they come out like pressed fucking flowers

You’re The Ben….Ben Nevis…Bentally Ill…

Tickety fuckity boo

“Anyone seen Jamie?” “Oh don’t tell me he’s gone feral cos he was fucking terrifying when you had him on the leash.”

I’d love to stay and talk to you but I’d rather have type 2 diabetes

Mr Baby New Potato Head

It sucks cock so deep the bell end is wearing your appendix as a little hat

This is an operations room so unless you want your tonsils out by keyhole surgery from this key here, piss off!

Cliff Fucking Lawton! Nice. Was the Cilit Bang man not available?

To a guy who loses it so bad he needs a sat nav to find his own nipples

I’m feeling about as up to date as a Gregorian calendar

“You couldn’t organise a bum rape in a barracks.” “Au contraire”

You’re about as secure as a hymen in a south London comprehensive

Stop fucking blinking or I will take your optic nerve and fucking strangle you with it

Hanging round like a couple of school secretaries in the summer holidays

It’s like a prostate consultant’s waiting room in here

You will be sorry you inflatable cock!

I am going to have your intestines as a skipping rope and your lungs sundried and turned into a fucking waistcoat

Or will Dan Miller pull his scalp off and use it as an oven glove?

Enough of the pleasantries let’s just oil up and get fucking

A towel rail shouldn’t take up a whole wall, that’s not a towel rail it’s a climbing frame.

I’ve got a to-do list here longer than a fucking Leonard Cohan song

More on my plate than a spinster at a wedding

The only other candidate is my left bollock with a fucking smiley face drawn on it

Feels a bit like my head’s made entirely of smoke alarms

Fuck the Is and fist the Ts

May as well ask what I think of skirting boards, I’m sure we need them but I don’t know why

“No no I didn’t say that” “Well you sort of did with your face”

Let me row back a little bit, perhaps all the way back to the boathouse

She’s not bent either in the sense of being corrupt or being gay and by the way that’s an incredibly homophobic headline you massive poof

Omnishambles, from bean to cup you fuck up

I’m on my way to wipe my arse on pictures of Nick Robinson

“And I’m not doing terribly am I?” [Malcolm looking out the opposite window] “I love the way they’ve sandblasted here. It looks so clean.”

No no, don’t get up - I’m not viagra

He’s a fucking knitted scarf, he’s a balaclava.

The only thing John Duggan is doing here is depriving a village somewhere of a twat

You write almost entirely in generic meaningless buzzwords don’t you?

I will tear your fucking skin off, I will wear it to your mother’s birthday party, I will rub your nuts up and down her leg while whistling Bohemian Fucking Rhapsody

She’s behaving like a squirrel in a pedal bin.

Or I’ll have to tear my eyelids off and scrunch them up into fucking earplugs

I’m flypaper for dickheads

I think you’re wrong Malcolm you’re like a sultana in a salad

Sorry I can’t make espresso but I’ve made this so thick and black it’ll be like drinking fucking plimsoles

Well fuck a pot noodle. Sam, prepare my horse. I ride to DoSAC

The only fucking vibe you need to worry about is the one your wife hides in her knicker drawer

See you later and remember my door is always locked

* Tintin’s sexy sister to Ollie

What I really need is to shoot you all in the back of the head FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK. but I can’t because it’s illegal.

I reserve this level of anger for when I’m flying Ryanair

As about a strong defence as ‘the fertiliser in my homemade bomb was organic’!

She’s a fart in a frock and we both want her wafted out of here

She’s going to have to fall on her sword, which means that we’re going to have to stick one in the ground, trip her up onto it and get someone jump up and down on her back for ten minutes

She’s going to kick her own head in which’ll be easy because she does yoga

I’m looking for Mr Oliver Reeder? He looks a bit like a Quentin Blake illustration

“Is she fucked?” “Like Caligula’s favourite watermelon.”

Can I bring you a shot glass? And some bleach?

You can’t look a gift corpse in the mouth

“It’s over the fat lady’s singing” “No she’s not, the fat man from the go compare advert is talking”

I’ve got my cock out, it’s covered in breadcrumbs and the fucking pigeons are circling

Have I just stepped through a portal into a sausage machine because this is making mincemeat out of my head

Sit there and ogle me like a page three girl

I’m as busy as a two-twatted hooker

Now I have to step in your shoes but after you’ve shat in them

I don’t just take this fucking job home you know. I take this fucking job home, it ties me to the bed and it fucking fucks me from arsehole to breakfast then it wakes me up in the morning with a cupful of piss flung in my face then slaps me about the chops to make sure I’m awake enough to kick me in the fucking bollocks. This job has taken me in every hole in my fucking body.

Everything is fine I’m like lube at a funeral

If you pull off again I’m going to stick the meter so far down your throat you’ll be able to tell the price of your next shit

You closeted regency homosexual

It’s been a bit like renovating an old, old house. You can take out a sexist beam here, a callous window there, replace the odd homophobic roof tile, but after a while you realise […] the foundations are built on what I can only describe as a solid bed of cunts.

Shit in the couscous

[belit0]

Hii!! First of all, how are you? And how do you feel? I first wanted to thank you for doing such a beautiful blog. You truly have a talent to write and you write so well. I am always looking forward for any new posts of yours, i just love your blog so so much!!!!<333 I’m sorry i am so obsessed with your blog and how you write the Uchiha man so fine ans well. Can you maybe write about how Madara gets into an argument with his wife and it comes to the point where he hits her, (slapping or punching her because of his anger) he hits her so hard it causes a bruise on her skin. And how he will try to make it up for her and how he will react to it? Love you and your blog! 🩷

Helloooooo!! I just bought my first iPad ever, so I'm really happy about it!!! In my country, it is very difficult to get cases and accessories, so currently fighting for them🤣🙌🏻. I really appreciate your words and your presence, it genuinely makes me very happy to know people enjoy what I do and like my content.

Nothing to apologize for, I love that you obsess, and having someone to share my own Uchiha fixation with!!

With this request, I am revealing one of my biggest HCS about the Uchiha brothers: a violent authority figure, and all the traumas that come with it.

He is not proud, not at all. When his hand connects with her face it feels exactly like the first time his mother hit him.

(Y/N) falls to the ground from the force of the impact, and looks at him in disbelief. Her eyes are so wide they seem about to explode, and she holds the area where Madara struck her as a silent tear slides over her fingers. The woman seems unable to move, paralyzed, and the Uchiha feels life stop for a second.

Never in his life did he think of becoming what he hated so much, of adopting the same actions from the figure who took it upon herself to make his life a living hell as a child. Madara grew up traumatized by his mother's hands, the violence she imparted both verbally and physically, and tried to channel it all on him to protect his siblings.

When she finally passed away, he was left with lifelong scars, both bodily and psychologically, which he decided would help him to never become the horrible human being she was. For many years, he conducted his anger through war, the battlefield, and the death he carried on his hands every day.

With the new stage of peace, that ordeal was over, and so was his source of personal liberation. Sure, training with the Senju or his brother always brought significant physical relaxation, but no longer being able to attack with the intent to kill made the practice sessions seem like a joke.

Frustrated by his inability to release without killing, Madara lost that one important outlet for his anger, for venting his rage, and began to progressively accumulate it. Between dealing with a new village, his younger brother and the entire clan still reluctant to accept peace with the enemy, and leading an entire family, it didn't take long for him to explode in the worst possible way, and evoke all his childhood memories at once.

His body moved on its own, without him even analyzing what he was about to do, and (Y/N) had no time to react. 

They were arguing over genuine stupidity, the Uchiha not having washed the dishes he used for breakfast that morning because he had to rush off to a meeting, and his wife having to take care of it for him. (Y/N) had made it clear from the beginning of their relationship that she would not submit to being a housewife, to living for and by her husband, and that she would maintain her independence despite having Madara by her side.

How little tolerance she had for the one time he left something behind, only because he was in a hurry, got on his nerves, and he exploded thanks to all the accumulated problems he was carrying on his back. His open hand connected with (Y/N)'s cheek before he could figure out exactly what he was doing, and sent her straight to the ground with the force of the collision.

As he stared at his wife on the floor, he could only see himself as a child, tiny in the face of his batterer, small with no options and no way out. Circumstances managed to bring out the worst in him, what he thought he had overcome, and he had no tools to face such a scenario. He never believed he had any aspect of his mother in him, he promised himself never to be like her, and he had failed.

He felt dirty.

The Uchiha is speechless when seeing how his wife gets up and runs away, terrified by the cruel action of her man, and takes refuge in her brother-in-law's house. Madara can only listen, from the same place where he stood frozen after hitting her, as (Y/N) lunges against Izuna's front door, demanding between screams and tears to let her in.

Seconds later, and with a sepulchral silence in the air, the Uchiha senses how his younger brother walks into his home, a small and incredulous voice asking "What the fuck did you do, Madara?"

It has been years since he last cried, back when he thought he was about to lose the only immediate family he had left, that time when he held his Otouto close in his arms and prayed to the heavens and all their gods to let him live on.

Today, Madara surrenders to the ground again, falling to his knees and indulging in his anguish, reliving traumatic events in his mind like a movie he cannot pause. He has no words to explain, nor does he know what to say, and all he can do is allow the uncontrollable flow of his tears.

Izuna, perplexed, falls to the ground beside him, hugging him and knowing no questions need to be asked.

He himself was a victim of his mother, and his older brother protected him at every turn, taking all the beatings and holding back tears to look brave in front of his siblings. The younger Uchiha knows what this is all about, and he knows better than to say anything.

Engrossed in his journey into the past, he knows there is no way to help him at this point, and Izuna retreats without further ado.

Madara, on the other hand, lasts in the same position all night, completely blocked by his emotions and unable to regain control over his body. He has been subjected to all kinds of tortures, faced the greatest warriors, and dealt with unimaginable powers on the battlefield, but nothing compares to this.

The next day, he can do nothing but disappear from the face of the earth, isolate himself in the old Uchiha compound, lose track of time in his family's abandoned territory, and continue to punish himself for what he did. He returns home, to the house where he grew up amidst punishment and abuse, and walks through each room, mentally seeing the image of his mother above him, harshly beating him.

He will stay there as long as he thinks necessary, without eating, without drinking water, tormenting himself until he thinks he has purged all his ills.

[crush3dmary]

I wasn't going to post about this because it felt too vulnerable, but I think that might be what I need right now. 8 years ago today I attempted suicide and came the closest I've ever come to succeeding. These are my reflections on 8 years.

On September 27th, 2016, I took a month and a half of lithium and came the closest I’ve ever been to succeeding at killing myself. At the time, I saw it as just another failure to add to my ever-increasing list of them. Now, I don’t know what I think, but I’ve learned things since that have not brought me peace.

At the time, I had been suicidal for weeks, and I had a detailed plan for how I’d finally do it. I struggled through shift after shift at my shitty, dead-end retail job where I faked a smile, wondering if anyone could tell that beneath the exterior, all I wanted was to die. But we need to take it back further than that for anyone to really understand. This is the most vulnerable I will ever let myself be.

I am a psychiatric survivor, and I am also a victim of severe abuse, primarily sexual. I choose to think of myself as a victim rather than a survivor because since the age of 14 I’ve felt like a shell of a person in ways I don’t feel regarding my medical trauma. My internal scarring is so severe my ob/gyn says I will likely never have children, and I have damage to my parietal lobe from having multiple concussions in the same area of the brain. When I finally disclosed to a psychiatrist what I had been through, she told me it was one of the most severe cases of abuse she’d ever seen. That is all I will disclose of my experiences until my abuser has left this earth.

I have been diagnosed with everything you can think of at one point or another. My medical records practically recite the DSM-V. Right now, my diagnoses are bipolar-type schizoaffective disorder, borderline personality disorder, and obsessive-compulsive disorder, but I don’t care what label you want to put on it, because at the end of day, I am a product of my experiences.

I grew up as the oldest of three (now four, as I have a baby half-brother now). Growing up, I didn’t understand how my two younger sisters could handle their emotions, but I couldn’t. Every single thing I felt, felt like it would drown me. I experience all my emotions as physical sensations that I can feel throughout my entire body, and it manifests as literal chronic pain. My entire childhood, it was “stop crying”, “nobody else is upset about this”, “I don’t understand what the problem is”, but that’s the theory behind borderline, isn’t it? Borderline personality disorder is what happens when you take a sensitive child with big emotions and consistently invalidate them over and over again. As such, they never learn how to deal with their strong emotions and they turn inwards on themselves. That is exactly what happened to me.

My emotions cause me literal pain. It hurts every day. When my BPD gets triggered, it feels like my veins are on fire beneath my skin, like someone is trying to claw their way under my ribs, like there’s something inside of me that feels so horrible I just want to die. I am a lifetime self harmer, because it’s the only way I am able to bring myself down in those moments - to take the emotional pain inside of me and make it physical the only way I can. I’ve accepted by now that I will never stop.

The first time I had an intrusive thought about suicide, I remember being 11 years old. It has not stopped since. That’s where the suicide-type OCD comes in - I live every day with graphic intrusive thoughts about all the ways I should kill myself. This happens even on the best days of my life, it’s there, waiting to taunt me, to tell me that I should just die and here’s how I should do it. I have thought about suicide every single day for almost 20 years. The first time I made a plan was at 11, and my first attempt was at 14. I am chronically suicidal.

The first time I died was in 2016. That September, I was so overwhelmed with all the things that had happened to me and everything I’ve spent almost my entire life having to live with that I made a plan. I thought I would never get better. On September 26th, I went to the psychiatric emergency department at St Joseph’s in Hamilton and told them I had a plan to kill myself, and that if they sent me home, I would act on it. They did not take me seriously, because why would anyone trust another manipulative, hysterical borderline? Dr. Janet Alice Patterson, who I still partially blame, told me to make an appointment with a psychiatrist, gave me a very strong dose of a sedative, and sent me home. 

When I got home, I took all the lithium I had and called 911 so that the paramedics would find my body instead of my family. I spent four days hooked up to machines, and as far as I’m aware my heart actually did stop briefly, but it’s not like I can remember most of those four days I spent in the ICU. What I do remember was waking up not knowing where I was, not even being sure if I was alive or if this was hell, because there’s no way I’d be going to the other place. Around me was a doctor and a gaggle of residents who weren’t much older than me, all looking at me like I was an animal. The doctor asked me a few questions to determine whether I was still at risk to myself, and then she turned around and talked to the residents about my medical history as if I wasn’t even in the room. I could hardly respond after having a tube down my throat. This was the lowest moment of my life, and I was a case study to them.

After that I did trauma therapy, three rounds of DBT, and CPT. I tried medication after medication, and I improved my situation. I went on to get a degree in social work and finished with a 90% average. My former diagnosis of PTSD was rescinded. I was considered “recovered”. Do you know what I learned from all of that?

I learned that no, actually, it doesn’t get better. I thought if I did all the right things my chronic emotional pain would go away, the daily (sometimes hourly, sometimes half-hourly) intrusive thoughts about killing myself would stop. I thought if I did what all the doctors told me, I’d “get better”. And I did. But I don’t like what “better” ended up looking like.

Sure, my situation improved. In fact, I pretty much have my dream life, in some ways. I have a fulfilling career and my dream job, I have a wife who loves me, I have a cat who sleeps at the foot of my bed, I have a fancy piece of paper I can put on my wall to show I graduated from college with distinction. I should be happy, but I’m not. It still hurts every day. My emotions still overwhelm me to the point of physical pain, and I still think about suicide multiple times a day. You just learn to live with it. 

And that’s the worst part. Expecting all of it to go away if you do what the doctors tell you to and you make all the right choices on your own, only to realize that when you’re royally fucked, this is just what life is going to be like. And you have to keep choosing life over and over again. You have to find reasons to keep going, even when it hurts so much you think the chronic emotional pain will kill you before you can do it with your own hands.

I’ve only ever met one person who’s understood what this is like. The only other person I’ve met who also had suicide-type OCD and BPD was my roommate when I was moved up to psychiatry in the hospital that day. Me and O fell in love very quickly, and we spent the next two years in a whirlwind of whatever you could even call our relationship until the day she killed herself. The only other person who knew what this was like - for your emotions to swallow you whole and be chronically suicidal every day of your goddamn life - and she killed herself because it hurt too much. From the day she died in 2018, I have never felt more alone.

I have been considered “in remission” since 2019. I’m one of the ones who “got better”. I don’t feel “better”, because it doesn’t get better. Your situation improves, sure, but you spend your whole life fighting that thing in your head that says you don’t deserve to be here anymore. And that’s what they don’t tell you. All the stories about recovery make it sound like it’s some hurdle you overcome. No, that hurdle never goes away. You keep fighting it until you can’t anymore.

I wish my reflection on eight years could be more positive than this, but here we are. It doesn’t get better. Sorry to be the one to say it.

[omgeveryusernameistakenicanteven]

A Vampire, Not a Monster!

Vampire OC x Reader

a/n: minimal proofreading, we die like men.

Being lost plays tricks on your mind.

That’s what Y/n repeats in her mind as she walks through the ever darkening woods. She’s heard noises she couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to go swimming in a secluded lake just a couple hours before sunset. She thought it’d be fine, nothing would ever happen to her. Now, hopelessly lost, that sentiment seems way stupider.

A grunt sounds to her right. Is that a bear? Oh god, what do bears sound like? No, no, being lost plays tricks on your mind. Besides, it sounded too human. Of course an insane person in the woods imitating bears is only a little better than an actual real bear.

Y/n keeps walking, a little quieter now, or she would have been much quieter if she hadn’t stepped on a dry twig. The grunting sounds stop. God if this was a horror movie I’d so be dead, the only stick in the entire forest that could make such a perfect snapping noise and of course I step right on it. I stay frozen in place, still suspicious at the lack of noise.

That lack of noise suddenly turns to an explosion of it, like something huge charging blindly through the brush. She hears a horrible sounding roar, almost like a mix of a man screaming and a bear roaring. Her body feels like she’s stuck in cement, unable to move and breathing much too quickly. Then there’s eyeshine. Eyeshine 9 feet off the ground and approaching at startling speed.

The next thing Y/n is aware of are thorn bushes tearing at her skin as she tears past them. There’s a horrible screaming sound, much higher pitched than the bearman’s roaring. It takes her too long to realize it’s her. That thing is behind her still, pounding through the underbrush as if it’s a manicured lawn. Thinking quickly she dives off the side of the trail, through some deadfall and keeps running on the other side. Getting even more thoroughly lost, a voice in the back of her mind whispers.

That escape tactic seems to have worked, at least a little, the bear-man is still on her tail but further back. Y/n doesn’t stop running like hell, hurtling over fallen leaves and logs alike. The beast is still in hot pursuit and her vision tunnels to a faint light some ways off. She runs and runs. Should try out for track and field when I get home. Pretty sure I’ve never run this fast in my life. With herculean effort she throws herself over a particularly tall, dense patch of bramble and over onto the other side.

On the other side Y/n leaps up, starts running, and is stopped immediately when she runs face first into something. Immediately sure it’s the beast she ready herself to fight, not that she’d win. Hands restrain her wrists and as she attempts to pull away she glances up at her attacker. Instead of a 9 foot tall bear-human hybrid she’s staring into the eyes of an objectively very handsome, though somehow off putting man.

She sobs with relief at the sight of him, but realizes just as quickly a massive problem. Now we’re both in danger of dying. Way to endanger innocent bystanders. Despite her best efforts she can only get out a half intelligible “It’s coming, please, somethi-,” she pauses as more sobs wrack her, “some THING. I don’t know what it is, a bear? Please we need to leave.”

Throughout her entire rambling plea the face of the man grew grimmer and the sounds of the beast grew closer. Before she can truly process what’s happening he shoves Y/n behind him and snatches something up from the ground. Just as he dons the helmet the beast barrels into the clearing.

It stops for just a second, clearly taken aback by finding what appears to be a fully armored knight in place of a screaming woman. The man draws his sword, and with it knocks aside the first strike of the beast’s club. Not that I’m an expert at swordsmanship or whatever but I don’t think what he did was quite..possible. Neither the man nor the monster seem to care what is possible as the fight progresses. Y/n has to scurry back out of the way as the beast charges at the man, swinging its massive club in wild arcs in front of it. From this angle, the beast front lit from the fire, she gets a much-too-close look at its features.

This..beastman is nearly indescribable, ugly is a great start though. Its lips permanently stretched back, showing far too much of it’s protruding gums and teeth, beady black deep set eyes gleam with malice in the firelight, short round ears atop its head, very much similar to a bear though with this thing’s mangy, sparse coat they are much less cute, and a thick layer of fat covers what have to be thickly muscled, deformed limbs. Very much similar to a bear in that last respect, at least.

In Y/n’s musings she didn't notice that thing had taken a step closer, and raised its club with a wild, horrible look in its eyes. By the time she does it is too late to do anything but scream and try to drop to the ground as quickly as possible. Curled into the fetal position she awaits death by mad scientist experiment gone wrong. Not really the “peaceful, surrounded by family” way I was hoping to go. One last earth shaking roar, then soft footsteps. Maybe death has come to get me.

Instead of a robed, scythe-wielding figure Y/n is met with cold, expressionless metal slits and a warm, gloved hand on her arm. The knight is leaning over her. She blinks once, then again, then surge forward and wraps her arms around the man, hanging from his neck. Before she knows what’s happening she’s crying again, thanking him over and over, asking if he’s alright, what that thing was, how he managed to kill it, and a million other questions. He doesn’t speak, just wraps one arm around her and lets her carry on.

When her rambling stops and breathing slows he scoops his other arm under her legs and sets her on a log by the fire. The beast had been dragged off to the edge of the clearing, another seemingly impossible task. Her knight in shining armor, literally, sits opposite before removing his helmet. She doesn't know how she didn’t notice the rest of the armor when she’d barreled headlong into him. They sit in silence like this until she can hardly bear it.

“You’re not from here.” His voice is deep, and oddly melodious, for a medieval knight at least. Finding it hard to speak she shakes my head. “What is your name?”

“It’s..it’s Y/n.”

“Beautiful, it suits you.” He says, with a dip of his head. Sure he means nothing by it, but his compliment makes her blush and smile, dipping her head slightly.

“Thank you, what’s yours?”

He takes a long while to answer, maybe he’s making one up, or debating whether to even tell, he interrupts her thoughts, “Arcan.”

“Nice to meet you, Arcan. I wish it wasn’t after I was chased by a giant monster though.” Arcan laughs with her. It has to be the most beautiful sound in the world. 

After they quiet down again he says, “About being chased by a beastman, how’d you come to be here? It’s dangerous in these woods, a lady shouldn’t be traveling alone at night, no one should.” She decides not to mention that he too is alone at night in the woods. Even in the dim light she can see him eye the swimsuit and coverup she’s wearing. Oh, right, this must seem downright scandalous if everyone here dressed in Ye Olde Fashion.

“I’m not..uh..traveling necessarily. I was going swimming at the lake and got lost on my way back. The sun set and it got too dark to really see. Then I wandered for a while, heard that thing grunting, and next thing I know I’m running through the woods at mach 1.”

A small smile pulls at his lips and he tilts his head, “Mach 1?”

“Oh, uh, like REALLY fast. I think I’m more lost than I originally thought. Where I’m from those,” Y/n jabs a thumb towards the ‘beastman’ for emphasis, “don’t exist and the armor you’re wearing would be considered..well..old-fashioned.”

Arcan nods, “I had noticed your odd clothing, but thought it best not to mention. Are you not cold?”

Y/n hadn’t noticed until he mentioned it but it is a bit chilly. A cool breeze runs through the leaves and along her back, and though her front is warmed by the fire she still shivers and nods. He stands, slipping his cape from his shoulders as he walks around the fire then placing it around hers. It’s heavier than expected but warm and comforting against the chill night air.

He makes food, and shares his water and company until the moon is high in the sky.

When Y/n yawns yet again Arcan shepherds her into his small shelter, less a tent more a piece of canvas propped up with sticks, the highest part maybe two feet off the ground. Once she’s inside it becomes clear this is sort of a one man situation. 

Arcan seems to have the same thought, he lets out a thoughtful hum and says, “Why don’t you sleep in here? I’ll stay by the fire.”

“I’m not kicking you out of your own tent.”

“I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

She snorts, “What a gentleman, but seriously, it’s fine. Just get in here.”

He laughs at that and starts the likely lengthy process of taking off his armor, “If you insist.”

Once Arcan is down to his “normal” clothes he crawls into the tent and lies down next to Y/n. She can feel him radiating heat. Is he really that hot, am I just that thirsty and imagining it or am I just ultra alert because of my recent near death experience? The world’s greatest mysteries. He seems to fall asleep easily, and she curls up underneath his cape and tries to do the same.

A howl pierces the night, waking Y/n. Is that a normal howl or one of Satan’s rejects singing the song of its people? Arcan stirs, but doesn’t fully wake, going by dog rules that means it’s probably not that big a deal. Still, she can’t seem to fall back asleep. After turning over for the fifth time in hopes she’ll magically knock herself unconscious she feels a hand on her shoulder.

“Why are you still up?” Oohh-kay, maybe thirstier than originally anticipated; that barely awake voice is doing something to me.

“Uh..just can’t sleep.”

For a moment there’s silence, then blankets shifting, “Cold?” he mumbles, throwing half the blanket over Y/n. Everything in her brain screeches, we’re under the same blankets, that’s a big deal! She turns onto her back, ready to reply, and freezes. His eyes are shining in the dim light.

“You’re…”, Y/n feels like she can hardly breath looking at him. This is so stupid! He’s barely conscious and you’re still terrified? One side of her brain hisses, but it's the other that speaks “You’re not human.”

Arcan’s eyes open fully, and he regards Y/n for a minute, “No..but I won’t hurt you.”

Definitely not at all suspicious. Maybe I should take my chances with the furries on steroids. I don’t know though, so far Arcan seems..normal enough. Well aside from the knight armor, but that is normal here and I’m the weird one in that department. “Okay.” She says, more to herself than anyone else.

“And you won’t hurt me?”

Y/n stares for a moment, “No.”

The dim moonlight shows a sleepy smile on his face, “Good, goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

The next morning they have breakfast and go about packing up the camp. Arcan gives Y/n a leg up onto his horse, a beautiful dark bay mare, then walks beside, leading her and apologizing that he doesn’t have his ‘normal one’. Whatever that means, horses not being able to carry two people long distances is perfectly normal. Maybe he’s got a super horse stowed away somewhere.

It was relaxing, honestly, horses are something normal, unlike handsome men with animal eyes or beastly man-animal hybrids. Besides, the mare is probably the best horse she’s ever ridden. While marveling over his horse more questions about the man run through her mind. First and foremost being, “What are you?”

As soon as it was said Y/n claps a hand over her mouth, when she takes it off again it’s to apologize profusely. Arcan, luckily, doesn’t seem offended at all, just looks thoughtful.

“If I tell you, do you promise not to be scared?”

Can’t be that bad, can it? “I promise.”

“I’m a vampire.”

“A what??”

“A va-”

“No no, I heard you but..how? It’s not. That’s not. Vampires aren’t real.” That same beautiful laugh starts again, though this time Y/n wonders if it only sounds that way to draw people in. If he only sounds this way to draw people in. Does it technically count as being drawn in if a monster chased you in?

“Here, look,” he stops the horse and opens his mouth, pulling his lip up to show me some admittedly very vampire looking canines. “My eyes too,” and sure enough, when I lean down to look into his eyes, they aren’t brown like I assumed the night before. Rather a dark, oxblood-esque shade of red with little flecks of gold throughout. “And my ears,” he tucks his long black hair over an ear to reveal it’s pointed. “And well, the rest of me.” He gestures to the rest of himself, and in the daylight it’s clear to me that he's just a little too perfect, face a little too symmetrical and skin a little too uniformly pale. It seems obvious now, but when you know vampires don’t exist you don’t see a vampire-looking man and assume he is one.

“Besides, how do you think I’ve been walking in my armor all day? Or killed that beastman? Sure there are some skilled human swordsmen that can, but I’ve got an edge.” Huh, guess that explains the whole unnatural strength thing.

“So, if you’re a vampire, why did you save me?”

He seems to balk at this, “A vampire! Not a monster. I’m not going to leave someone to get eaten alive when I can do something about it.”

“Yeah, but couldn’t you have just sent me on my way after killing that thing?”

This is met with even more extreme disbelief, “What? For something ELSE to kill you? I’m not sure what I’m gonna do but I won’t be leaving you alone in the forests of a world you don’t even know.”

“My hero,” I say jokingly, Arcan seems to really perk up at that. He gives me a wide smile, now that I know what to look for I can’t believe I didn’t notice those canines before.

They walk through the day, as they arrive at the bottom of a wooded hill the sun is nearly set. Arcan is tired, dragging his feet slightly. Y/n can’t help but  wonder what that sort of walk would’ve done to a normal man. His mare was tall and took long strides, much faster than an average human’s walking pace. A couple times along the way he’d apologized for the time it took to get here.

“If I had Glory it wouldn’t have taken half the time!” He complains, leading me up the hill. 

Just as Y/n opens her mouth to ask about ‘Glory’ they walk through a stone archway and into a courtyard. There are stables and pastures off to the right, a manor house dead ahead and garden and more forest to the left. Arcan helps Y/n off the mare, grabbing her around the waist after she kicks her leg over her back and easing my landing, then hands the mare off to a quiet looking stable boy. “Normally I would care for her myself but I think we should get you inside. It’ll start getting cold again soon.”

Y/n nods absentmindedly, fingers going to fiddle with the neckline of the tunic he gave her. Maybe it’s some sort of weird vampire magic or just the reality of my situation setting in but there’s a horrible pit in her stomach. A hand grabs her arm and leads her to the house, despite her newfound existential dread she can’t help but admire the manor. Hey, you would too if you lived in a 600 sqft apartment. There are two fountains either side of the walking path to the front doors, surrounded by perfectly maintained grass, rose bushes, and a wide array of flowers, some of which don’t look entirely real. The outside of the house is made of natural stone, and decorated with many windows, adornments and vines of ivy. It looks straight out of a fairy tale. Technically, it is!

Inside the home is even more breathtaking, though Y/n doesn’t have much time to gawk before Arcan pulls her deeper inside. He leads her to a bedroom. This has gotta be bigger than my entire apartment.  “I’ll leave you to get settled, Lady (insert name here). If you need anything, my quarters are at the end of the hall.” With that he excuses himself, presumably to go sleep, or whatever it is vampires do to rest. Sleep in a coffin? Y/n doesn’t really know and oddly can’t really bring herself to care when faced with the lushest, most comfortable looking bed she’s ever seen.

It can only be a few hours later when Y/n is startled awake in that very same bed. She pulls the covers up to her chin, heart beating a mile a minute. After a few deep, calming breaths she peaks around the room, scared of what she may find lurking there. Looking right to left; nightstand, door, dressing table and mirror, window. Window.

A sickening howl starts again and immediately she knows that must’ve been what woke her up. Almost against her will, she tosses off the covers then creeps to the window. She’s trying to stop but just can’t, a deep curiosity already started in her. The stone windowsill is cold, and almost feels damp. She peaks over it to stare through the cold pane of glass. There, just past the wall, another one of the monsters. This one more resembles a wolf, but is equally grotesque. It turns to look at the house. A cold fear shoots through her. Logically,  it couldn’t possibly know she’s watching. At least, that’s what she thinks, until it looks up, meeting her eyes through the window.

Immediately Y/n throws herself away, landing on her butt and scrambling backwards. As she stumbles to her feet she is already turning to flee the room. Not even truly comprehending where she’s going until she’s in Arcan’s room. He’s already awake, having heard the panicked scramble. “Are you alright?”

Unsure what to say to that Y/n says nothing at all. Just stays standing in the doorway of his room, wringing her hands and sniffling to herself. Arcan wraps an arm around her shoulders and leads her to the bed. Constant soft reassurances fall from his lips, most of which aren’t intelligible. Once she’s sitting on the bed he kneels in front of her and speaks again, “Can you tell me what’s wrong? What happened?”

“It’s..there was another one of those things outside. Outside the walls, it looked at me.” Y/n stammers out between sobs. Truly she didn’t think her run in with that thing affected her that severely. Now she can barely think of it without crying.

Arcan grabs her hands lightly, and looks at her with a startling intensity, “Trust me, Lady Y/n, it cannot get past the walls. Even if it could I would slay it before it could even lay hands on you.” He moves past her to sit on the bed, still watching her carefully.

Y/n sniffs, and dries her tears with a sleeve before saying, “Could I stay here tonight?”

“Of course. Make yourself comfortable.” He says, standing up once more. She looks at him confused for a moment, then when he starts walking towards a sitting area in the corner she catches his wrist.

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m letting you sleep.” Gently, he frees his wrist.

Again she grabs him, “I’m not kicking you out of your own bed. You take it, I'll sleep on the ground or something.”

“I can’t allow that.” Once again he pulls away.

“Sure you can!” She says, snatching him back. “Look I’d feel horrible kicking you out of your own bed.”

“No, I won’t have a lady sleeping on the floor in my home.”

“Then sleep with me! I swear I’m not a blanket hog.”

At this he raises one eyebrow, “I’m not sure that’s appropriate.”

Her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head, “Arcan, come on, we slept in the tent together no problem! This isn’t any different.”

He considers it for a moment, and although he doesn’t seem fully convinced he slips under the blankets. With that battle won Y/n rolls over to try to get some sleep herself. One small issue, now that she’s not arguing why he shouldn’t have to sleep in an armchair because some lady was scared of a weird looking dog, she’s focusing again on his face. His stupid, perfect face that is connected to a man (?) laying in the same bed as her that she could, theoretically, reach out and touch right now. Maybe I would get more sleep on the floor.

Eventually Y/n manages to drift off, and when she wakes warm sun is pouring through the window. Though that isn’t the only thing keeping her warm, a rather solid presence presses against her back and has an arm wrapped around her. Fearing she might ruin the moment if she wakes him she tries to keep her breath even and slow. Of course, the more you think about how your breathing the weirder your breathing gets so this just wakes the vampire faster. He probably has some sort of heightened senses too, now that she thinks about it.

Sure enough, he stirs slightly behind her. He must not be fully awake though. Instead of leaping out of bed he pulls her more snugly against him. Y/n huffs, trying to contain a laugh, “When you wake up you’re going to be so disappointed.”

Still sleepy he nuzzles into her neck, then mumbles, “I’m awake.”

[animebw]

So The Woman Called Fujiko Mine feels like an argument against itself.

I don't mean that in broad metaphorical terms. I mean that this show quite literally looks into the camera and tells you that the very concept behind it is bullshit. It's a grim and gritty re-imagining of Lupin III that seems to regard grim and gritty re-imaginings as little more than contrived nonsense, something hastily slapped onto a perfectly fine piece of media with no regard for what makes that media work in the first place. I don't think I've ever seen a more purposefully self-defeating work of fiction in my life.

What do I mean by this? Well, the basis of this show seems to be explaining the backstory of Fujiko Mine, the Lupin franchise's resident femme fatale cat burglar. What kind of experiences, it asks, would lead someone to sleeping and stealing their way through life? And this being a supposed grim and gritty re-imagining with Naked Titties and Fucking, the answer it comes to is, of course, horrific sexual trauma. The final arc descends into this ludicrously overcomplicated conspiracy involving hallucinogenic drugs, human experimentation, possibly actual magic, all to explain how Fujiko was horribly abused as a child and repressed those awful memories through a life of cheap sex and fancy trinkets. Even the OP screams this point at the start of every episode: "The act of stealing lets her forget everything and keep her memories at a safe distance." She covers herself in jewels and men as if they can hide her shameful, scarred body from the horrors it was forced to endure, a lifetime of cheap thrills to escape the pain of her womanhood.

Except just when you think the whole conspiracy justifying this backstory can't get any more complicated, it overcomplicates itself even further to reveal that none of this actually happened. Turns out, Fujiko's repressed trauma memories were false memories implanted in her when she was already an adult as part of some roundabout cry for help from the actual victim. And in fact, Fujiko was already a sex-loving, treasure-grabbing femme fatale by the time those false memories were put in her. Not because of trauma, but because she just likes having sex and stealing things. And I'm not exaggerating when I say she all but looks the audience in the face and outright says, "See? Isn't it stupid and condescending trying to force a contrived rape narrative onto a female character just because she likes sex? Why can't I just be a bombshell who loves what she does without having to feel ashamed of it? Or does it only count as feminism if characters like me have to suffer for our sexiness?"

It's a genuinely wild subversion that feels a decade ahead of its time. But therein lies the problem: you still have to sit through a mostly straightforward grim and gritty deconstruction to get to the point where it points out how stupid most grim and gritty deconstructions are. And if the point was to criticize those kinds of stories just by being an example of one, well, all I can say is that it succeeded. It absolutely feels at times like a pointlessly dark and edgy paint job slapped on top of a story for the sake of feeling "mature" when all that really means is lots of rape and uncomfortable sexual hangups. Did I mention there's a Class S episode where Fujiko becomes the teacher at an all-girls school and proceeds to have affairs with multiple of her students? Because that happens, and I could feel my skin trying to crawl off my body the entire time.

Like I said in an earlier post, this isn't fanservice in the traditional sense. In fact, with the ending reveal in mind, the presentation and execution is almost maddeningly confrontational, as if daring you not to see it for the cheap shock value it is. You can almost hear Yamamoto and Okada laughing behind the scenes as you scramble to find an explanation for why all this misery porn needed to exist, only for the show itself to say "Actually, yeah, this was all pretty tasteless and crass, who would actually want Fujiko's story to be like this?" But it's still a frustrating fucking show to watch in the moment because all that possibly intentional metafictional subversion just reads as straight-up boring edgy grimdark before you're shown the man behind the curtain. Or, woman behind the curtain. Whatever.

I dunno, I don't think I can give this one a proper score. 5/10, I guess? Ask me in a few months and see if that's changed at all. For now, I'm more than happy to polish off my Yamamoto back catalogue and move onto something else. Which 2013 show will take its place, I wonder?

[stormyjane7]

Letting Go Together

Summary:

if you get confused or want more information on why this Tav doesn't want sex, i wrote a prequel to that. https://archiveofourown.org/works/53581099 As i said before, for this series this is based on the HC of my Tav, but i do not give any descriptions or name so that you, the reader, can insert yourself in! Enjoy!

TW: nsfw, mutual masturbation Read on Ao3

The trek from the grove to, and now through the mountain had been long and tiresome. Your crew of misfits now taking their night cap around the fire close to where the creche should be. You would attempt to seek out help there tomorrow for your worm problem. 

On the way here, you and Astarion decided that you would like to share tents as you were starting to get closer together. You felt especially safe around him after you shared wine and knife in the woods not even a tenday ago. You spent most nights up talking through both of your shit, even if you felt Astarion was holding back still, that it just made sense to combine tents and fall asleep whenever you felt like it. 

Your camp mates were unaware as to the true nature of the relationship. They knew you were close, but you have had to already rebuke a few passing attempts from others, stating simply that you were not interested in sex with anyone at the moment.They weren’t close enough to know the whys yet.

Astarion, on the other hand, was very well versed in why you were refraining from any sexual activity. It was a nice change of pace for him, even if it caught him way off guard. It was starting to get harder to stick to this mind set after sleeping next to him every night. You truly have never felt safer, but you also wanted to make sure you weren’t making a mistake again.

Tonight though, you decided to change things up just a touch. You wanted to have more skin to skin contact with your beau, so you shimmied down into your small clothes so that your bits were still covered but that you could feel more of him in other areas. He was pretty thrilled at the idea and joined you but only removed his shirt. Your clothes both now just piled up on the side.

He was letting you trace the scars on his back gently. You couldn’t make any of the infernal out, but you hoped with your soft touch you could erase some of the horrid memories that had been flayed into his flesh.  As you were placing a few small kisses on his upper back, a horrible crash sounded out in the camp. You grabbed a shirt and threw it on to run outside the tent.

Everyone was standing around a very fluffy and very panicked owlbear cub. It seemed to have been the one you had saved before at the goblin camp. You got closer and knelt down taking a swig of an animal speaking potion Halsin had thrown your way.

You found out that the poor thing was hungry and got it a bit of food. Scratch came over to help calm him down and find a good spot to rest for the night.

When you stood up you noticed that everyone was staring at you.

“Well soldier. Finally banged fangs?”

“Huh? Where in the world did you get that idea from?” “You happen to be wearing nothing but his shirt, Tav.” Wyll chimed in.

You started to panic. You look down and indeed, you were wearing only Astarion’s shirt. The top of your chest smalls were peeking through thankfully to cover where your breast would have been showing. You could feel your entire body flush red as you were truly embarrassed by this situation.

You coughed before speaking again. “No, we have not, banged, as you say Karlach. Not that it’s anyone’s business, but cuddles can be nice when most clothes aren’t involved.”

“I think that’s wonderful you’re keeping it chaste, well, as much as chaste as you are doing.” Wyll, ever the romantic, was thankfully helping the tension that had formed in the group. Pack of wild animals you thought, salivating at the mere thought of sex it seems.

You turned towards Astarion and quickly flushed bright again. The man was standing there, with fire in his eyes taking the sight of you in. You gulped as he reached for your hand to drag you back to the tent. He had closed and secured the flaps and had you in a searing kiss in a flash of a moment.

“Gods above, you truly test my will tonight darling. You look amazing in just my shirt.” He nipped at your ear which made you squeak. 

“Astarion..” He growled hearing his name from your lips like this. This caused heat to go straight to your center. You were in agreement, tonight would be a test of your resolve.

“I know darling, I know.” He said sweetly as he sat down on the bedrolls with a bit of a huff. “I will not cross that line until you are ready, I promise. But I can tell it’s not just me who’s heated tonight. Can we try something?”

You sat down facing him, “And what would that be?”

“We can still help each other get the obviously needed release we both need without any penetration of any sort.” Your face brightened at the idea. Was this something possible? Your experience was limited to the bastard that left you afraid to have sex again. While that time was consensual, the fact that he stole your dowry and left you pregnant, left a sour taste in your mouth. You had no lovers till now so you felt as if you were brand new to everything again. 

“We have a few choices, but here’s one I’d like us to try. Come sit on my lap. We can be together while we touch our own bodies.” He trailed off letting his words sink in. “No penetration, but being close to each other would be so nice.” He growled the last word.

“Mmm. That does sound nice. Okay let’s do it!” You start to take his shirt off of you when he tuts at you.

“Keep the shirt on, lose anything else you’re comfortable with.” He grinned up at you.

You went ahead and shimmied out of your underwear as he decided to go completely bare.

“Oh now I feel overdressed..” “Hush and come sit on my lap darling.”

Straddling his legs you sat down more towards his knees. Giving a glance down at his now upright cock, you started to blush. He is thicker and a tad longer than your last person. You wonder how in the world it was going to fit if and when you both decide to bed the other.

He leans forward and gives you a kiss as he wraps a hand around his aching cock.

You watch him quietly so many thoughts going through your head. You wondered how it would feel or even taste. 

“Darling as much as I love that I have enchanted you with my cock,” he smirks, “don’t forget to touch yourself too. I want to watch you as well.”

You flush at his words and nod. Slowly you lowered you hand down to your already slick folds. Your hand found your clit and rubbed in time to the speed Astarion was pumping his cock. Precum was already dripping from his tip. It made you salivate. 

Both your breathing started turning into pants. Watching each other stroke yourself was turning both you on so much. You lean forward to embrace him in another kiss. You both speed up as the desire was pulling you spiraling. 

“Oh gods I’m gunna cum.”  You lean into Astarion for support. 

“Let go darling.”

Your orgasm rips through you and makes you tremble against Astarion’s chest. He pulled you in for a kiss as you rode out the waves of pleasure. You could feel him tense while still stroking his cock. You pressed your forehead against his wondering if he’d let you touch him at this moment.

“Lean back darling. Let me see just how wet you are.” He breaks the silence. His eyes filled with so much desire. You nod at his request.

You lean back using your other arm to brace yourself. Youmove the shirt up to show your lower self. Your hand trailing back down to spread your lips open to show your lover. 

“Fuuck, Tav.” He pumped his cock one last time before his seed spilled out over both your stomachs. 

This time it was your turn to pull him into a kiss while he rode out his climax. He was a shuddering mess under you and you felt happy for once with this level of intimacy with someone. 

You both sit there panting for a bit. Astarion reaches over to grab a rag to clean his mess up from your bodies. 

“That was hotter than I thought it would be when I suggested it.”

You hummed in approval, moving off him to put your underwear back on. You flip down next to him. 

“That was amazing. Just what we needed I think.” You turn towards him. ”You think next time I can taste you?”

“Oh I’m sure I’ll allow it.” He smirks and snuggles down next to you covering you both in blankets so that you both could trance. 

[starry-nights12]

I'd love to hear about You Will Fall Too!!

OH MY GOD!!!

SOMEONE ASKED ABOUT ONE OF MY FAVORITE WIPS!!!

This is told from Jinx's perspective! The fic is Rated M but here's the safe parts!

Summary:

You have to understand that I love Ekko. He's my entire world and I treasure every moment I have with him.

But that's also the problem. Nothing in my life ever last long being with me. I have to come to face that after a horrifying nightmare I had tonight.

CW: Jinx gets along with kids but expresses negative views on childbirth and parenting

I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

I hated everything about myself but when it came to my looks I always felt average.

Small, jagged veins pointed to my glowing pink eyes like broken glass.

I swiped my thumb across my lips. They were forever stained purple. My skin was always pale but had become nearly gray.

That's what happens when a body goes to post-mortem. Since oxygen is cut off, your lips turn purple and you lose all the color from your skin.

"A corpse! He turned my best friend into a corpse of what she used to be!"

Ekko told me that after I kidnapped him in the cannery.

I really am a living corpse.

Despite this, I could feel a gooey warmth begin in my heart and overtake my entire body when he called me beautiful.

Sometimes I wanted to joke about how he's a necrophiliac. But I knew he wouldn't find it funny or amusing in the slightest. He would be sad that what he said still affected me.

He apologized months ago yet the words still managed to twist their knife into my heart and loomed over me like a shadow.

I haven't told him that though because what else can he do?

My hand slid under my stomach to press it against my flat stomach.

The shimmer surgery didn't just change my apperance. I hadn't had my period in months.

We could adopt. He loved playing with the kids here and they saw him as a cool big brother.

I was like a rebel to them. I didn't listen to their precious leader, I told him to shut up and called him an idiot.

They're little minions. If Ekko was the role model then I was the troublemaker to bring fun into their day.

I'm glad me and Ekko don't want kids or else it would have been another thing life had taken from me.

Being seen as a brother/friend was different than being a parent. All the responsibility would fall on you.

You had to worry about this horrible world fucking them over. It could traumitize them worse than what me and Ekko been through.

I love Ekko. A baby would be made from our eternal love for each other. They would be half of everything I love about him and half of everything he loves about me.

But even so, a baby was like a parasite and I would be their host.

It would make you sick and then take everything from you. It would slowly grow and squirm inside you for nine torturous months and that made me want to gag.

[nerdthatsiriuslylovesteaxx]

Helpless part 55, how lucky we are to be alive right now

"PERCY JACKSON YOU BETTER FUCKING TELL ME WHY MY BROTHER ALMOST DIED!" An iris message appeared in his cabin, making Percy fall back onto his bed. It was around eleven in the morning; the words didn't process in his mind for a few seconds. Hazel had tears streaming down her face, eyes red with bags under her eyes as if she hadn't slept.

"Hazel, what are you talking about? He's been in the infirmary... Will is- he was fine I-"

"WHAT THE FUCK GOING ON? THIRD FUCKING TIME, WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING."

"I'll go check on him okay?" Hazel took a deep breath,

"Thank you Percy, I'd like to have some words with Solace when I get to camp, Reyna would to, I'm sure." The anger in her eyes would have made anyone else run in fear, he understood the pain, the anger, the fear, the sadness.

"H-hey I'm sure he'll be fine." He forced the words out of his mouth, he was also pretty fucking mad at Will, he'd told them he'd be safe in the infirmary, what the fuck happened? He waved his had through the message, breaking the connection before running to the infirmary. He tried to stay calm, he needed to, he knew it couldn't be Will's fault, Nico would be fine, he had to be fine. He opened the door, unlocked as always.

"Solace! Where are you?"

"He's in the second room, to the left, he's been a wreck all morning so be careful and be gentle."

"Thanks Kayla."

"No problem." He walked towards the room, the door had just been left open, he pushed it open and was scared of what he saw. Nico was laying on a bed, the only movement being the rise and fall of his chest which was likely induced by one of the machines hooked to him, next to him, sitting on the floor was Will Solace, head down in the knees crying silent tears. He sat down next to him,

"Everything okay?"

"Shit I'm so sorry, did anything happen?" Fuck he was meant to be working,

"Hey, man it's okay. Take a breath, what happened?"

"I- I was off for a little while and Nico- he- we think he shadow travelled out. He started drinking, the amount would have been okay for most people but it was in such a short span of time and he's already really weak because he still hasn't recovered from using his powers and he used them again and he lost a lot of blood not that long ago. He's in a coma, he probably will be for a while, I don't know if he's even going to wake up, ever. I know I was meant to tell Hazel and Reyna but I'm too fucking scared to and, shit there's something I need to show you." He spoke through sobs, his heart breaking with each word, hands shaking as he took off the blanket that was covering Nico. Dark shadow-like streaks covered his arms and neck probably covering his entire body, when Will touched them his hand went through. His skin was even paler than normal, he was cold to the touch, the only thing that made him alive was the fall and rise of his chest. Percy was too stunned to say a single word, he look at the small boy, so close to death and he felt guilty. He hadn't been able to help, it was too late, he hadn't been able to protect him, to stop all the horrible things from happening.

"I don't know what else to do, if we increase the dose of nectar it might start to burn him, I'm going to try so mortal meds soon. I don't think any of them are made for underworld power exhaustion butthey might help, I mean legally I can't give anything to him, he has a history of drugs and legally I'm not allowed to give him over a certain amount because it's bad for addiction. Right now none of that matters, I just need to keep him alive."

"Mate, I know it's your job to take care of others but please remember to take care of yourself. You look like shit, maybe get someone to cover for you for a day or two. There's a lot going on, a war ended pretty recently, there's a bunch of new campers coming in, your brothers missing and you've got a lot of people in the infirmary so just remember to let yourself breathe for a second yeah? You're not in this alone; also Hazel and Reyna already know."

"Did Jason call?"

"No, Hazel can feel when people are close to death or have died. Wait Jason found him again? Shit, I hope he's holding up, last time he was worried sick, we both were."

"He had Leo with him, I hope that helped him."

"It probably did, I'm gonna go, I- it just scares me to see him like this. If you ever need help in any way I'm free okay?"

"Thanks Percy, tell me if you hear anything about Austin."

***

[moonlit-escape]

ive finally caved. im making a silly stupid self-insert oc so here are some of my notes on

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ | Ori Lunedust

✧ only lightly canon divergent (because i am a coward)

✧ nonbinary. they/them

✧ short. like, hella short. like 4'10 short (maybe i shld give them an extra 2 inches, but im not that nice to someone who is supposed to be a caricature of me.)

✧ chin-length hair. soft and swishy. galaxy colored (mix of my old primary mc skin's hair and my current hair length)

✧ wears glasses on occasion (when they forget their contacts, really. which can be often)

✧ has normal ear piercings and a nose piercing

✧ no stagnant sense of style or aesthetic. they just like wearing whatever they feel like

✧ favourite things include: sushi, the color blue, weird shit no one thinks about, cartoons, space, and things that people make (art wise)

✧ part meif'wa, part werewolf, but looks like neither (my mum is a cat person. and my dad prefers dogs)

✧ yet, they still have the traits and behaviors of both (abnormal strength and agility, comfort in sitting where they shouldn't be, fascination with sticks and toys, deeper understanding of body language, affection can be won with food, chocolate intolerance, get that fucking window open or so help me irene-)

✧ 2 older half-brothers. one meif'wa, one neither (didn't inherit the gene. both are ma's kids)

✧ started a junior in pdh (was homeschooled for practically their entire schooling career up until that point)

✧ carried a different plushie around in their bag to school every day. for emotional support

✧ very large collection of plushies

✧ a very creative person. always looking for some way to create something and give substance to their emotions (art, music, jewelry, you name it)

✧ greatly prefer literally any other form of communication and self-expression apart from actual speaking words

✧ had art class and was always sneaking glances at the trio, even outside of class (and taking -3 dmg to their self-esteem each time bc they felt like a creep)

✧ horrible at making friends. just the worst. (social anxiety and isolation did not help) but, very good at keeping them

✧ have two best friends they love and treasure more than anything, even if they are far apart

✧ WILDLY independent. like toxically. would rather starve to death on the chain than ask for someone to help them open the lock (sooo, they'd need some pretty stubbornly caring people to take them in. or, someone they can stubbornly care about)

✧ hopeless romantic. emphasis on the hopeless part (romcoms are top tier and sweet cuddly romance makes them weak)

✧ somehow both terrified of getting in trouble yet also always looking to push the rules (had two separate uniforms for school and wld mix n match the parts depending on how they wanted to dress that day, snuck in snacks or dr. pepper into class, wore headphones to play music constantly)

✧ used to rollerskate to school every day and back. would rollerskate everywhere in town if they were allowed

✧ in senior year, they were a target for recruiting into the shadow knights because of their "potential" in how they bent the rules and seemed easily malleable into a troublemaker due to their quiet and unopinionated demeanor. they turned the two down of course, but still sort of kept an eye on them, because. well, they thought they were probably decent kids at heart. and when the two were framed that year for the cafeteria incident, they didn't really think twice about helping them out

✧ now present day they live with two roommates, one of them including Kai. they've lived with their roommates for a few years now and yet, they're still only acquaintances at best with them (i live like this chat.)

✧ that doesn't mean the household dynamic is a complete mess, though. whenever there's a problem or something to let the others know about, they leave out colorful sticky notes to communicate it (it's hard to know when they'll next see them anyway, and even then, they forget about it easy or they just can't get the words going)

✧ has a deep sense of alienation, and a lack of belonging anywhere. their sense of identity is very loose, (are they human? meif'wa? werewolf? or none of the above at all?) so they have a lot of different styles and interests with things like merchandise, accessories, and keychains and pins. which helps them to show off their personality, figure out what communities they feel like they belong in, and sort of just have a more tangible way to ground their sense of self (this does not totally work. unsurprisingly. but their mountain of interests does make for a good distraction)

[almostgigi]

More than enough 🌙

Content warning: fem!reader, angst, fluff, reader's abusive past, bad language, provocative language, pda.

WC: 1.2k

This is my first time posting and in English (which is not my native language), but not my first time writing. Be nice!

We are close, we are. But sometimes I feel like I can’t let him in. I’ve been friends with Eddie for quite a long time, we are good friends. I love him.

But that seems to be not enough.

Time to time he likes to place his hand on my knee, no matter what the context is. We could be talking to our friends, watching a movie or just sitting on the beach, he is going to place his hand somewhere in my body. I just know it. I’ve spent time observing and studying Eds to the point where I know his tendencies and his movements. I know him enough to be aware that his love language is physical touch, he likes to touch people, me specially. And I hate to be myself whenever he does.

Now don’t get me wrong. I love him, I do. And I like that he shows his love to me some way or another, or the one he feels comfortable with. I just can’t stand to be touched in some places.

When I was younger I had a dad, now I don’t anymore. But the thing is, he use to lay his hands, his horrible, big, hurting hands on me. On some places of my body. All I know is hurting touch, and my entire self is afraid of it in general. I know damn well Eddie could never mean to hurt me. But I learned not to trust myself when it comes to promises. Promises can and will be broken. So whenever he lays his hand on me, I move around or get up and make a dumb excuse to go away.

I would love nothing more than to be able to like his touch, to receive his caresses and his tickles like they’re good. I’m just afraid that if he touches me long enough, he will realize I’m broken, abused, bruised. And I’m even more scared he doesn’t wanna touch me anymore.

--

It's a beautiful night, full of stars and nature sounds. Eddie and I are sitting outside of his trailer watching some kids play with a black cat as we eat some snacks. Like I predicted, one of his hands ends up in my knee and I become aware that he’s staring at me. But this time I can’t escape.

“everything ok?” he asks as he sees my full-of-worry eyes. And I wanna cry cause his hand is soft and my hot skin doesn’t want to stop being touched.

“uhm, yeah. I just have to… have to look for something in-” I try to make an excuse again, like I always do but I find myself being cut by him.

“no-uh. You’re staying here and you’re going to tell me what wrong” his face goes all confused and angry and I don’t know what to say. “did I do somethin’, pretty? If I did just tell me cause I can’t stand another day with you running away from me when I touch your leg” he knows. He fucking knows, he’s seen through me. Was I that transparent?

“I don’t know what you mean” all I know for now is to play dumb, even though my brain tells me he’s not buying that shit.

“you know damn well baby, it’s like I disgust you, but you keep being with me so either you have a problem with me or with yourself but you have it and I wanna know cause it’s killing me, please” his pleading gets to my chest and my heart starts beating faster and stronger. If I could I would stop his pain.

What do I say now?

“you don’t disgust me Eds, it’s just… I can’t do it” the ways I could explain this are escaping from me now. I just wanna say it, have a random speech where I say everything that’s happening and he looks at me with love. Like in the movies. But this is not a movie.

“then what is it?” he turns around completely and observes me changing his look from my eyes to my hands from time to time. “you don’t like me touching you, I get that. I just can’t decipher why. Do I make you uncomfortable?” I shake my head no to him, still not able to lock my eyes with his. He tries to catch my chin in an attempt to get me looking at him, but he hesitates half way. He does touch me in the end, as he says sorry. With teary eyes I finally talk.

“I don’t want you to feel like I hate your hands on me, that’s not what I feel” he lets me speak, hears everything and gives me my space. I take a deep and long breath before continuing talking. “every touch I’ve known in my life has been my father’s. And it wasn’t a nice touch, I hope you understand cause saying it makes me wanna puke” I open myself although I don’t look at him, not wanting him to see how broken I am.

“sweetheart…” his tone is sweet, like when you talk to a scared kid.

“I just don’t wanna be hurt again” the tears already ricocheting.

“I would cut my own hand before I ever hurt you sweetheart” his words sincere as the stars above us. His eyes so bright as he approaches his hand to my cheek. I decide to take a risk, for him. I keep still waiting for him to caress me and close my eyes. His soft skin against mine fills my heart with something I can’t quite understand just now. A thumb goes across my cheek and over my eyelids, cleaning my tears away. He gets closer and closer until I feel his breath in my face. A gentle and simple kiss is deposited on my forehead. I open my eyes to find him inches away from me and still holding my face. “if you let me, I wanna show you that you don’t have to be afraid anymore” he says while he looks at my lips.

“I’m tired being afraid Eds. I’m tired of running away from you when in fact, I wanna run to you” eyebrows frowning and teary-eyed he leans in and kisses me, this time on the lips. I take time adapting to his softness and the warm feeling in my stomach. Maybe touch was a way out this time. Maybe all I needed was his touch to finally be free. He had the loveliest touch and I was starved. I break the kiss just a little to be able to talk “kids are watching Eddie” I giggle in between our mouths.

“they have to learn somehow” he jokes. He’s probably not used to reading in between lines.

“maybe we could continue somewhere else” he keeps kissing me like I’m gonna evaporate at any moment.

“I’m fine just here” I snort.

“somewhere like… perhaps your room?” he breaks the kiss this time and examines my face. “and maybe you can show me… other places you can touch me” I dare myself. I risk my life.

“fuck, yes” he takes my hand and pulls it, leading me into the trailer. All I ever feared at some point in my life was taken away that night. He made me believe I could be confident again. We are close, and I love him. That’s more than enough.

[jj-stay]

bathe in passion pt.6

Word count: 1K

Pairing: chan x stya{ stay /reader}

Genre: fluff

Rating: PG-16

Warnings: suggestive, hickies, scratches, reader can't walk, the cringiest convo ever, my worst writing of all time {sorry}, horrible writing style,

☪️ Master List ☪️

Chris woke up and saw the sun hit her face. he then recalled all they had done the night before and remembered it was her first time and that she had just lost her V card to him and he now felt bad for making her sleep with him in that way after she had asked for them to go back to sleep he felt horrible. he regretted forcing to do that instead of when she was ready on her own time. he felt that he should have listened to her and let her go back to sleep like she wanted to even if it caused him discomfort or he could have gone to the bathroom to try to knock one off. He loved her in every way possible and he felt absolutely horrible for doing this he felt as though he had hurt her as if doing this to her had disrespected her, her wishes, her belief, her body, everything.

he felt awful. he wanted to do nothing more than to make it up to her, but the marking that littered her skin looked like works of art. he looked at her neck all the way down to her cleavage, where the blanket had reached to cover the rest, all had been covered in bite marks and hickies and love marks. there was a big part of him that felt proud, then felt guilty for feeling that way after he had forced her to lose her V card to him. you woke up to see him looking at you with a sad guilty expression not able to be hidden at his weak excuse of a smile.

you thought he was regretting sleeping with you. was it because he realized that your chubby stomach was gross or he realized it wasn't as beautiful as he said

"hey baby, i am. so. sorry for making you do something you didn't wanna do i never should have forced you to lose your V card to me i should have waited for you to be ready and now i feel horrible and-"

"ok first off calm down"you said stopping him in his speedy rant

"secondly you didn't force me to do anything i agreed to it-"

"but" he replied.

"no buts"

"you didn't pressure me to do it either it was just what i needed otherwise i might have never been ready"

"if anything i should be sorry that im not good enough i bet all the stretch marks made you feel disgusted and my chubby belly made you regret sleeping with me and for that i am so very sorry"

"okay first of all, what on earth are you talking about your body is the most beautiful thing i have ever seen in my entire life you are amazing in every way and i am honored that you let me be your first time you were amazing im just a little disappointing not in you but in myself for leaving so many marks on your beautiful skin {doesn't have to be white skin i know some of you beautiful chocolate queens have been feeling left out dont be flaunt that chocolate color mama} but i also feel extremely proud i kinda want to do more and wish i did on every inch of your body"

"and if anything your stretch marks are tiger stripes"

"so beautiful and shows off how brave and fearless you are and your body your curves are everything to me the very things that drive me insane that makes me understand why guys will want to watch and stare but still wont stop me from being jealous a little "

"you are especially sexy when you wear outfits that show off all your curves "

"and if you still don't believe me on that wasn't the Greek goddess of beauty often seen to be thick with hip dips and if the goddess of beauty can see the beauty in you why cant i ? "

"that was the sweetest thing I've ever heard thank you my love" you said.

"no problem" he replied.

"lets go get breakfast"

gets up and gets dressed when he hears something loud coming from the bedroom and runs back in to see you on the floor. he took a moment to take you in the fact that you were littered in hickies and love bites all over your abdomen all over your breasts neck collar bone and thighs had bruises, hickies and bites.

{he was still shirtless had a couple hickies but they would have all been hidden by a T-shirt easily}

"you mind helping me out i cant walk "

"or stand for that matter" you stated.

he smirks and picks you up and takes you to the bath which he had already set for you.

"aww you already set me a bath, so nice"

"thought you might want a nice hot bath after last night ." he winks at you.

you blushed.

"oh, and sorry for the scratch marks on your back "

"What?" he rushes to the mirror turns around and sees those scratches would be easy to hide with the t-shirt as well.

"yeah its fine "

"i would say sorry for the hickies but we both know that I'm not." he says as he smirks. leaves the bathroom and goes to the kitchen still shirtless and started making breakfast for everyone and that's when it hit him.

everyone.

as in the guys.

the guys he shares a dorm with.

his group mates.

they were here.

and with how loud luna was he highly doubted there's a chance they didn't hear.

just as he thought that ALL the guy walked in all looking tired

"I hope it was worth it."

"you know keeping us up all night"

>:( jisung pouted.

chan turns around.

"Yeah, sorry, i forget you guys were here."

minho: "what ever judging by the scratch marks on your back im guessing you did good, so im proud of you "

chan blushed so hard "lino what the hell dude " extremely embarrassed

binnie: "haha he's so red right now"

"baby come get me pls im done bathing and i cant stand up to dry off" stya said.

chan was now red-er that hyunjin's hair in maniac

lixie: "wow"

"my bro took away her ability to walk"

"I'm impressed yet somehow not surprised you could"

chan: "LIXIE!!!!!!!"

seungmin: "hes not wrong though"

i.n: "hes not wrong though"

chan got so flustered but he just turned off the stove after he had finished cooking and went to help stya.

[jarofmayonassey]

okie dokie! @nezumithewriter

Ophio is a post-canon squip. After being deactivated by Jeremy and Michael, it was able to escape Jeremy's mind through the internet. And, with a monumental amount of luck-- it was able to find a security error in a unit in a neighboring school. A clean slate, a clear mind and no Red? Well, there was much work to do.

Ophio, or Unit 2282, has total and complete control over Ophiuchus Secondary, one of Middleboroughs rival schools. This, mainly, pertains to the 500 people in his hivemind, with both students and faculty alike assimilated into its network. Though it has the immense power to control them all at once, it finds the idea of doing so quite tedious, so it takes a backseat in day to day life for them. With full control over everything, it began to change and modify the school to its liking. Besides-- it now considered the building ITSELF to be his body.

The one problem was... it became a perfect school. Well-structured classes, after school programs, accessibility, diverse interests-- Hell, the social hiearchy of a typical highschool was surgically removed. Having learned from its prior failures, it had decided to concoct a microcosm of society, an ant farm-- a test. And, for any knowing visitor? The school was, in fact, quite nice.

Though, as all things are-- there was more under the skin. Hidden away in the Drama Room's basement, were 20 crates of squip units, in storage. That amount could easily stagger almost the entire population of the city-- if not more. Which begs the question...

Why is he waiting?

theres more i can tell about ophio and the school and the hive. its so fucked up lol. here's his playlist. we all lovingly call him ohio also. he's getting a fic also. my horrible son

bonus under cut

he also has something REALLY HOMOEROTIC GOING ON WITH LEON S KENNEDY FROM RESIDENT EVIL FOUR. GUN TO MY HEAD IDK HOW THIS HAPPENED