#i want to write something for somebody!!

[burybirds]

does anyone want a little jaytim or dicktim drabble ^_^

i am bored...

request away!!

[botanautical]

'We all yearn for the woods. That's why every fellow on this island wants to settle down near a tree - just one will do.'

[pikathefunny]

IT'S TIME FOR LUFFY TREATMENT

[maxthesillyy]

thinking about. i dont know how to phrase this really but. chloe and frank.

like. when Chloe killed Frank i (, personally,) feel like her guilt from it was less because she killed Frank, and More because she Killed Someone (and their dog).

but!!! thats not to say she didnt feel guilty for killing Frank. because she definitely did. because on some level. despite everything. despite all of his shitty behavior. a part of her still cared for him. that tiny 15-17ish year old part in her still cared for him.

because that 15-17ish year old with intense abandonment issues in her only had. a small handful of people in her life that actually cared for her, and when THOSE few people aren’t even doing the best job at it— it’s no shit that Chloe’s standards for Good Friends are going to be Immensely dropped.

and so. it’s kind of like what happened with Rachel, but WAY less intense. when she found someone who didn’t hate her, and was willing to hang around her—after so so long of people hating her and not wanting to be around her— it makes sense that part of her would kinda latch onto them a little bit.

and so, even after all of the shit she’s learned he did— even when Frank starts to hate her— even when he threatens Max and her’s lives— part of her keeps remembering him as one of the few guys who stuck around when no one else did.

it’s just that. no matter how bad the person— if you’ve known someone for years, and they were one of the only nice people to you in a town where theres like. four people that are nice to you— it’s gonna hurt if you kill them. even if it was self defense. even if it was entirely their own fault— even if you two aren’t on even remotely good terms anymore.

ESPECIALLY for such a sentimental person like Chloe. taking that in consideration it makes me wonder. maybe she didn’t feel bad for killing Frank. maybe she felt bad for killing the person Frank used to be to her. but maybe she realized that That Frank already died long ago.

but yeah. im mentally ill. take everything i said with a grain of salt considering it is 12:07 AM.

[qwerty019283ytrewq]

Today is a fun day...

I was riding my bike and thinking about what to post. I usually listen to music and dream about my ideal world, but today tumblr captured me.

Two streets before my house, while I was waiting for the green light at the traffic light, I felt myself fainting. And three times after that.

Now everything is fine. I returned home, I'm coming to my senses, and I'm trying to make post.

And so. I remembered Antonio Banderas, and then Spy Kids, and then the post-poll who are the children of Daniel and Max in the grid and...

✨️Imagine✨️

Jack and Hamda are coming home after school. They swear, bicker, and shove. Typical brother and sister. After opening the front door, they drop their backpacks in the hallway and go to the kitchen. Finally, they notice that dad is not at home, and the kitchen is a mess.

Jack asks his younger sister to stay in the kitchen while he checks the other rooms. The TV in the living room seems to have been blown up, everything that was made of glass is now frozen with shards on the floor, the pillows in the parents' bedroom are torn, one is visible..."What's it? Three holes...end-to-end? We need to call the police."

Jack returns to Hamda, who begins to panic. The girl is scared, breathing fast. Somehow, Jack manages to calm his sister down, and then they hear the ringtone of their dad's phone. They don't understand how it survived in all this devastation, but they take it out from under the sofa.

Uncle Seb is calling.

"Daniel, take the children immediately. You need to hide in a safe place... "

"Uncle Seb? I'm afraid it's too late for that."

Hamda is sobbing in the background.

Spy Kids

Spy Parents

"Where are our children?

"What are they doing?"

[supermaks]

I'm honestly sooo curious to see how they're gonna judge if a driver has "consistently demonstrated outstanding ability and maturity in a singleseater formula car" and then also how they'll explain/defend that decision to the public...

How they'll judge it is whether or not the kid is connected to a political heavyweight wid enough pull to guarantee him a seat its literally as simple as that . FIA introduced the new super license system ab 4 months after Helmut got Max, before he even debuted in Australia. People forget but they didn't just add the age minimum and valid drivers license requirement, they created the entire point system and strengthened gp2 ((now f2)) in detriment of other junior series like gp3 and formula renault, which wud have effectively barred Max from competing. gp2/f2 became the definitive springboard into F1. It was political and petty and it was never about Max's experience or lack thereof. Thats why they're willing to tweak the system for Kimi but somebody like Colton Herta never stood a chance. Herta is not one of their own and it was never about age

[stevethehairington]

Dustin swings.

The first punch to Steve’s hands is unexpectedly hard enough that Steve has to step back to steady himself.

Under any other circumstance, that would’ve had Dustin grinning and laughing and teasing the shit out of Steve.

Today, he doesn’t even bat an eye at it.

His mouth stays twisted, an anguished gash that feels so out of place on a face that stands for everything Steve has come to associate with Dustin: bright, bubbling laughter, a permanent grin so wide it shows off every single one of his teeth; nothing but pure happiness and joy.

But there's not a trace of that in Dustin anymore. There hasn't been since... since.

It fucking hurts to see Dustin like this. So broken, so pained. And the worst part is, Steve doesn't know what to do with it. Doesn't know how to fix it. Because, well, he can't fix it. He can't bring Max back. He can't bring Eddie back. He can't undo all of the death and destruction and pain and suffering. No matter how much he wants to.

Steve knows, all too well, that handling Dustin with kid gloves won't do shit either. Gentle touches and kind words and the kind of taking care that comes in the aftermath of such great tragedy isn't going to help. Dustin has seen, has experienced, has survived through far too much for empty promises of "it'll pass" and "it will get better" and "it gets easier" to mean anything.

Four times around and it hasn't gotten better or easier at all.

The only thing Steve can do to help is to be there. To be a steady presence in Dustin's life, to offer him the silent support he needs, to let Dustin work through his grief and his anger and his pain at his own pace.

So he does.

He stands there and he lets Dustin pummel his hands, pounding his tightly wound fists over and over and over. Lets him scream and shout and grunt and cry as he streamlines every overwhelming feeling into this one action.

(Steve's hands hurt, they sting from Dustin's punches, and he thinks they might bruise, if palms even can bruise, but he thinks of it as some sort of penance. For letting Dustin go through all of this. For not protecting him better in the first place.)

Steve can't quite make out all that Dustin's saying as he hits, but he catches bits. A couple of "why"'s, a few "it's not fair"'s, one "it should have been me" that tears through Steve's own chest and has him losing his breath and his footing, briefly, once more.

After a couple of minutes, Dustin's energy starts to lag. His breathing comes heavier, but his punches come slower and slower, until all of the sudden he's collapsing into Steve's arms, burying his face into Steve's chest as his sobs wrack through his body.

Steve catches him, secures his arms around Dustin and holds him close, holds him tight. He swallows down his own sobs threatening to break through because fuck, fuck, fuck he never wanted this for Dustin. The horror, the hurt, the guilt. That was supposed to be Steve's to carry, and Steve's alone. But he couldn't even do that right either.

He can feel Dustin's tears, hot and wet, down the side of his neck. Can hear the snot that stuffs his nose and clogs his lungs. Can hear the absolute heartbreak in his words as he mumbles out his desolation into Steve's shirt.

But Steve holds his own grief in. Holds his own pain. Because he needs to be strong for Dustin. Needs to be his rock right now.

Steve can't stop it. He can't take it away. He can't fix it.

But he can do this. He can let Dustin punch him until he can't anymore. And he can hold Dustin as he cries.

It's not much, but it's something.

[lexygabe]

hiiiiii

here i am, polish supa strikas ex-writer from wattpad, who will publish some nonsense on this hellsite bcs i'm quirky like that

nico (💟💟💟💟💟💟) encouraged me to post this, so

[aflockofravens]

Hi I'm gonna need someone else to write this ASA-fucking-P because heaven knows my Swiss cheese brain can't fucking handle it ATM and I need it like, yesterday.

But I need a fic of Megumi's shikigami being an extension of himself (physical manifestations of his personality and feelings) where all of them are absolutely smitten with Yuuji and act out around him. Megumi can't figure out why they misbehave but Gojo knows (because of course Gojo knows) but won't tell him (because of course he won't). And it turns out that his Ten Shadows technique is super super strong whenever he's around Yuuji because something something the shadows cast by a bright light are the deepest something something Yuuji is the source of light in Megumi's life etc etc

[synonymsfordismember]

So I'm planning to write a creep-style home invasion story about a woman staying in her parents' house in suburban Ohio and the full-time pup one house over who kneels in the lawn all night every night until his people come back and ollie is like amazing love it but you're going to have to be clear that you don't think pup play is gross and I was like oh no no it's gonna be clear in-text that the main character only has a problem with kink when it's happening in her kitchen in the middle of the night don't even worry about it

[crystalkitty1220]

Man I wonder where the leader of the fear realm could've gone, it's alMOST LIKE NEVIN HAS AN

[qwerty019283ytrewq]

I'm too excited about Dan's photos, so I'm not going to sleep, I'm going to write.

WARNING: domestic violence is mentioned, the death of a character, I tried not to make it graphic, but remember, I'm a rookie.

Daniel works at a cool school. He's a teacher... English? or something else, the author decides. The school is cool, but not to say that they pay a lot. He doesn't live in a mansion, but the area is good, the apartment suits him, not too big (so as not to feel lonely), not too small (he has a small guest room, Blake spent the night in this room several times).

One day, Dan got new neighbors. Husband and wife and their three-year-old son. They lived on the floor above, directly above Daniel. The Australian often met Sophie and the child in the stairwell when he returned or left the house. Sophie was a nice woman, modest and a little introverted. She greeted Daniel quietly when they met but did not engage in dialogue. Just good morning/afternoon/evening.

One evening, towards nightfall, Dan heard muffled screams. Screams from the apartment above. A man's voice was heard better than a woman's, and the crying of a child joined them. At some point, Daniel heard a noise as if something had fallen. Sounds of a scuffle. He felt he had to do something about it. The Australian went upstairs and started knocking on the neighbors' door.

The door swung open suddenly, and a burly figure of a man appeared. His face was red, and he was breathing heavily. Daniel was even taken aback.

"You should stop what you're doing."

"Or what? What are you going to do?"

"I'll call the police." Sophie appeared in the background. She was obviously crying, but now she stood with her hand over her mouth and shook her head from side to side, catching Dan's gaze.

"Get out of here, Australian, you'll show up again and someone will have to scrub you off the floor."

The door slammed shut. Daniel didn't hear any more screams that night. But the next day, returning from a run, he met Sophie, Max was playing on the playground.

"Sorry about the noise last night."

"It wasn't the noise that worried me anymore. He's hitting you, isn't he?"

"He's a veteran, before the war he was sweet, loving, and after..."

"That doesn't excuse him"

"But I can't leave him either."

Then Max ran up, he hid behind Sophie's legs.

"Come on, honey, say hello."

"Hi, buddy, my name is Daniel." He held out his hand to the boy. The kid opened his blue eyes wide and shouted "Ossi".

Dan chuckled, "Yeah buddy, that's for sure. So what's your name?"

Thrusting his finger into his mouth, Max muttered his name.

Sophie and Daniel never talked about the incident again, but they became close. Dan was willing to help with heavy bags or linger at the playground. When they met, Max always high-fived Daniel and smiled happily. If they walked home together, then part of the way Max babbled something to the Australian, who listened very attentively to him. So a year has passed, a little more. Max celebrated his birthday, proudly showing 4 fingers when asked about his age. With each meeting, it seemed that the baby didn't want to part at all, and Sophie seemed to slow down as they walked towards the house.

It was in November. Dan remembers exactly. 3 days after Halloween. Since that first time, Daniel had barely heard any noise from the upstairs neighbors. Only sometimes there were no prolonged screams, but nothing else fell. Before.

Dan heard the man's screams from above and winced. They lasted for 20 minutes, and the woman defended her position, but the man shouted louder. Daniel couldn't hear the words. But he heard a thud. And the screams stopped. Men's wailing, sobbing? Another sharp silence. Dan felt sick, fear enveloped him, something was wrong. He called the police. I met the officers on the landing and watched them go to the next floor. He went into his apartment, closed the door, and leaned his back against it.

Later, he will remember how he heard the police knocking on the door, the sounds of a struggle when the perpetrator of the tragedy tried to escape. A knock on his own door. He remembers the creak of his shoes on the stairwell, the precise questions of the police.

"Did you know the victim? Did they fight a lot? Did you see any bruises or beatings on her?"

"Her name is...was...Sophie, a lovely woman, cooked tomato soup perfectly. They were fighting, yes, but never so much, even the first time it wasn't so much. No, there were no bruises, maybe she was hiding them... Me... I am inattentive. I should have called every time they..." Daniel felt sick when he saw the stains on the corner of the coffee table. God, what's going to happen to Max now? He thought and looked around.

"Where's Max?"

"Which Max?"

"God, that's their son. He recently turned 4. I didn't hear him. I didn't hear him, and when I returned from my friends, Sophie was already arguing with her husband. Where's Max?"

His breathing quickened. The police tried to calm him down, but he broke away and went to look for the child himself. They shouted something after him, but Dan didn't care. He had to find Max, God let him be okay, please.

"Max! Maxi-Max, it's me, where are you, buddy?"

The closet door in the nursery was ajar, and a child's scarf was peeking out.

The Australian's heart stopped for a moment, and a cold sweat broke out. He squatted down and slowly opened the door. Max was sitting in front of him, some clothes were hanging on him. He was sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest, his forehead buried in his knees, his ears covered with his small palms. Daniel only now realized that he was holding his breath. He gently reached out and touched Max.

"No, don't, please don't!" The boy screamed.

He abruptly raised his head and froze for a moment. And then he rushed at Dan, who barely managed to catch him. Max buried his face in Daniel's neck, hugging him tightly and sobbing. It was loud, unrestrained, and bitter. Danny hugged his little body tightly to himself and whispered, "I'm holding you. I'm holding you. You're safe. I'm not going anywhere. I'm holding you. You're safe."

Dan's photo

[bedforddanes75]

i think i might just fucking die if i dont post this right now Ok guess what? guess? guess...u wanna guess the colour of my underwear. ok cowboys here wtf ugh anyway dont tell me its bad ill come and get you

[patchwork-crow-writes]

70 - Indulgence

At the end of a long day, there was nothing Ralsei liked more than to retreat upstairs to his own bedroom, a pristine safe-haven sequestered away from the chaos of daily life in Castle Town. A room where everything was in its place, and there was a place for everything.

Today had been particularly busy, what with new darkners to orient, messes to clean up, disputes to arbitrate, and Kris and Susie to please. Ralsei should have liked nothing more than to throw himself upon his immaculate bed and slumber peacefully until the morning.

But upon setting eyes on his familiar, unchanging room, it seemed to him altogether too... sterile. Some unidentifiable impulse was gnawing at his core, causing his hands to tremble. His chest tightening, Ralsei approached his wardrobe, took a single piece of clothing from it... and gingerly dropped it onto the floor. Eyes swiveled left to right, waiting for the inevitable admonishment... which never came.

Oh... that was strangely enjoyable...

The thrill of his transgression emboldened him, and now he grabbed wildly at anything he could reach, sending scarves streaming through the air like shooting stars, frilly dresses parachuting down onto every available clean spot on his fluffy white carpet. Did he dare cast his dainty delicates to the winds? Yes, he dared! With a joyous cry they were thrown airborne like celebratory confetti, a riot of lace and satin as bouyant and carefree as his jubilant heart...!

Oh, if he had only known how much fun this was! Thoughts of cleaning far from his mind, Ralsei reveled in this rebellious now, strewing his garments around with delicious abandon. Let such dour thoughts of responsibility come later, after this simple, liberating indulgence...! And not even the shocked faces of Kris and Susie standing in the bedroom door could ever... dampen... his spirits...

...oh... oh dear.

______________________________

The Dark Menagerie No. 70

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[jasonsbones]

I had such high hopes for the Scott Pilgrim show I'm so fucking disappointed

[yoharrysaidshe]

Just had a wild ass dream that Mike Faist was in an art house musical (porn) film circa 1920s and the final dance number turned into a threesome between him and two other men(?) (the other one seemed like a very gender nonconforming drag performer and it's what drew in Mike's character and the gnc character clocked his tea bad that he wasn't as straight as he was trying to come off as lmao) and it ended up with mike showing his hairy hole to the camera and me rewinding it multiple times to review said hole in dream wow c'est la vie