#ic: tag asks later

[aberrational]

🥰 "what would make you feel happy and loved?"

🌻 random in-character questions

"An endless well of affection!" The Perfect Person folds its arms behind its head, leaning back. "Luxuries abound! I've done so much work for everyone else, I would just love to see anyone scrapping to try and perform even an iota of what I would do at the drop of a hat." It closes its eye, thinking, its boisterous tone lowering to something decidedly more casual, almost breathy in consideration. "Being put in a situation where I'm no longer responsible for figuring out all of the details. Being shown that people care and are trying. Being amused at the effort, content with the result. I don't know." Its eye snaps open and it unfolds to wave the thought away. "And domestic life. I miss having a house, living in it with someone. Just being around guys felt so nice."

The Perfect Person is insanely easy to please, flustered and quelled with simple romantic acts-- and if he particularly likes you, any acknowledgement at all delights him, so something as simple as company and idle chat fulfills him. This is not to say that he is fully a lost cause-- it is very capable of seeing when it is being taken advantage of and receiving little more than tension and fear of suitable reaction. Still, if it is satisfied at the end of the day, it will persist off of very little. But ideally, it loves to see effort from another as well as mundane life where it can masquerade as a person.

[voidcat]

leaning in for a peck on the lips and telling your windbreaker darling they're so sweet they give you toothaches... only to be hit by a real toothache hours later

[ask-imaginary-dreamers]

[Continued from here]

“She’s probably reincarnated hundreds of times! There’s no way she’ll remember you…”

“C’mon Casey.”

“Um… Alright.” Casey begrudgingly follows behind Fade.

[Casey and Fade have left. They are still open for asks, but are no longer with Flicker.]

[hxadmelusine]

@stelliferousduo liked for a starter!

' as the temperature has be rising these days, it's important to drink water to avoid dehydration ! ' sigewinne informed with a smile on her face as she held out a bottle of water for lumine to drink from. her small hands wrapped around the bottle, dampening her gloves from the condensation that had formed outside the bottle.

[gemsbian]

Prompt: I know you aren’t big on the RVTs but it’s an option lol-

Friede gets more sick after the winter fic with Frankie in it and the RVTs get worried and try to help him (I would say Orla as relationship cause I’m a sucker for Friede x Orla but if you are comfy with it I think it would be really cute to have the kids-especially Liko cause I think their pseudo parent-child relationship is the strongest- help out or something)

(Bonus-Frankie smack talking the RVTs lol)

I know it’s a long shot for what you usually write…but if you want a challenge :)

Thanks for sending this prompt! It was super fun to write. I realized afterword that I actually wrote two different Frankie and Friede winter fics. One where he causes an avalanche, and another where he falls through the ice and is saved by Conia.

I've been meaning to rewrite the avalanche fic to post to my ao3, so I went with that one! For anyone who's already read the original fic, the first ~1.5k are similar, but now there's an additional 3.5k of Friede hurt/comfort and fluff

I went with both Orla/Friede and cute moments with the kids, so I hope it's to your liking ^^

[askcapital]

This form is highly inconvenient, but it is fun to assume once in a while. Now that I have made the effort to transform, I might as well stay in this shape for... just a little bit.

[ @mod-checker / @minish-mews-and-twos / @askomni ]

[dizzybevvie]

♡ Online call me Beverly or Calliope :3

♡ I use she/her and he/him pronouns with no preference

♡ Arospec Acespec & gay

♡ not trans/nonbinary or cis but a secret third thing

♡ Autistic + ADHD!!! dont always need tone tags but I might ask :]

♡ Big Law of Assumption/manifesting enjoyer but i mostly keep it to myself ^^ feel free to ask tho <3

♡ Multifandom blog

♡○♡○♡○♡○♡○♡○♡○♡○♡○♡○♡○♡

Currently hyperfixated on Slasher movies & Ice Nine Kills

My tags!!!

Personal Tag - #Callie core

My posts - #Beverly Says Stuff

My art - #Bev Draws

Horror media (BLOCK FOR GORE) - #Shock and horror

How to train your dragon - #httyd

IT - #Clown movie

Mystreet/Mcd/VP etc - #aphmau

KH meta - #Soriku Endgame actually

Mutual Tags - #mars tag, #raya tag, #loz tag, etc.

"Thirst" - #the bev is gay chronicles

Irls #☕ #❤️ #💙 #💖 #💛 #💚 #💜

DNI

☆ TERFS/bigots/maps/etcetc

☆ Neopronoun dislikers

☆ Pro ANA

☆ nihilists

☆ HTTYD dislikers (its my special interest)

☆ Snotcup enjoyers

☆ "Nomura cant write" mfs

☆ Soriku Antis

PLEASE TAG

♡ Any disordered eating/diets/pro ana stuff

♡ Jellyfish

♡ Caves :(

[snkts]

He tracked Logan for two weeks.

Finding him wasn’t the hard part, nor staying in his shadow. Always a step behind him, waiting outside the Institute fence line, lingering a block away in town, tracing his steps after missions. Hell, he even left a few dead animals lingering in the back woods, wordless love letter scrawled in mauled flanks. That was all easy, a game, some play. The hard part was staying just out of sight, just out of the way, enough, that Logan never caught his trail. Never had a solid enough clue to act on. He had to wait, and simmer, and think about Victor and know he was there but never know exactly where, for two weeks. At night, Victor slept in an old oak tree and wondered if Logan thought about him as much as he did.

(Laughing with the kids while he trains them to fight in the yard; his distant voice in conversation with the people who called him friend; the brief glimpses Victor caught through back lit windows at night: at dinner, at rest, at play. Victor sleeps in a tree and wonders if Logan’s bed is warm, if he still sleeps on his back. He thinks about wrapping his arm around his mid-section and pushing his nose into Logan’s hair, kissing his neck. And Logan would shift and smile in his sleep, and tell him he loves him like he always used to).

It thrills him, to occupy Logan’s mind.

But Logan knows the date and he knows Victor is watching, so he acts accordingly. Victor finds it cute that he leaves a few days early and considers creeping into the big, wonderful house he lives in to kill a few kids while he’s gone. (They don’t care about him, they don’t know about him, Victor will show Logan what animals like them do to children. It’s only inevitable, if Victor didn’t, Logan eventually would). He resists the impulse. He won’t wait when Logan is alone and Victor can have all of his attention. It’s too much to delay. He wants Logan. He wants Logan now. He needs Logan. Just like Logan needs him.

The hunt lasts to the far side of the Canadian border, although Victor let’s it stretch out a couple days. It’s fun to track his scent, to catch the hints of nervous, fear, and the equal part exhilaration that no doubt fills him with heated shame. Logan loves this as much as Victor does, he’s just too shy to admit. It’s all the moral rhetoric and idealistic shit the X-Men spew in his ear, lies, lies, all of it lies. At best naive bullshit. There is no place in the world for things like Victor and Logan, even if they come up with fancy new words for them like ‘mutants’ to group them in. They aren’t like them. They’re going to hurt them. It always comes around. Always. But Logan must doubt parts of it, Victor can smell it in him. The animal that he hides, the predator-prey instinct that has him run, and eventually, turn to fight.

They meet in a pine forest where the air is crisp and cold, and they crash into a bed of needles and brush in a mass of claws, limbs, violence, and blood. Victor puts his teeth in Logan’s throat and Logan puts his claws through Victor’s chest. They curse each other and growl, animals snarling, posturing, drenched in their own blood and each others, as they tumble, then fight, then wrestle and push and pull and scratch and cut and bite and punch. It’s feral and desperate, Victor tastes Logan on his tongue and he’s sweet. He hears his mate’s thundering pulse and he just wants to curl up inside his rib cage, nestle next to his heart. Barring that, he rolls Logan onto his back, thighs clenched around his waist as he sinks his claws into Logan’s left pec— powerful, strained muscle pierced to the adamantium bones beneath his skin. Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful.

His mate.

His Logan.

His animal.

Victor is bloodied and laughing, and he growls in coarse dulcet tones: “happy birthday, Runt.”

I love you, goes unspoken.

He knew it was coming. That was the worst part. He fucking knew. It happened every fucking year, and it didn’t matter what he did to stop it. Because Victor Creed is exactly like him. Stubborn, vicious, and impossible to kill. 

An animal. 

The difference was, Logan had learned to control his feral side. He could keep those parts of him controlled, whereas Victor let them control him. A slave to his own impulses. Absolutely fucking nuts. And for some reason, that had become Logan’s problem. Logan wasn’t a praying man - he’d met too many gods for that - but he thought, if he ever met whichever twisted higher power thought he deserved Sabertooth, Logan was going to cut their fucking head off and piss on it. Maybe he'd do worse. 

But right now, he didn't have time to think about cathartic hypotheticals. Victor would be ready for him. He had to be ready, too. 

The only good news was, it wasn't a surprise anymore. It was every damn year. And because it was every damn year, Logan could plan (it isn’t paranoia when you know for sure the threat is out there). He watched the perimeters like a hawk. Double up the patrols, with some extra from him on top of that. Check at least twice a day that all systems are online. Headcounts of the students twice a day, whether they knew it or not. Checking in on the staff. Finding the animals. That was a message. He was supposed to find them. Victor wanted him to see. 

It was a rabbit first. Small and fragile, its stomach ripped open but its face left intact, frozen in blind, primal terror. The blood was cold when Logan stumbled upon it. Cold and congealed. Already soaked into the ground, into the fur. It’s tacky and sticks to his fingers when he touches the stiff, lifeless body. None of the meat was eaten. Only the insects got close, bottle flies buzzing and burrowing in the undisturbed feast. The larger, smarter animals stayed away. The lingering smells of predator and fear tainted the air. 

Logan buried the poor thing and reported back to Charles. 

That was only the first. It was a badger next. Not a wolverine - that would have been too obvious - but close. It had its throat ripped out. A deer that was barely recognizable as a deer. A pile of eviscerated squirrels. Every one carried the same scent. It was all Victor. 

It was all mocking him. 

It was all a fucking game. Fine, then. Let him play, Logan had plans of his own. He’d had his bag packed for a while now. A route planned and memorised, with a backup ready just in case. Endpoints figured out where they wouldn’t be close to any civilization - or even any trails. Somewhere where their fight wouldn’t hurt anyone else. It was his punishment for– Whatever the fuck had started this. He’d handle it alone. Just like he did every year. (It wasn't as if anyone could put a stop to it, anyway. Victor was as stubborn as he was batshit insane - he wouldn't stop until one or both of them was dead. And despite both of their best efforts, that wasn’t about to happen any time soon.) They were both just pushing a boulder up a hill. 

Logan strapped the bag onto his bike and secured his helmet. He was travelling light. Some food and water, his commlink, a pack of smokes, a change of clothes. He wasn’t planning on stopping anywhere, so he was only taking what he’d need to recoup after the bloodbath. (He made sure not to pack any shirt he cared about. It wouldn’t survive.) 

The ride was quiet. That was intentional - it was just him and the backroads he took. No cities, no towns - those took too long, and if Victor got impatient, anyone else could pay the price. That couldn’t happen. And he knew Victor would already be tailing him - had been for some time now. He didn’t have to see him, scent him, hear him to know that. He knew Vic too well. Knew him better than anybody else - just Like Victor knew him better than anyone, too. Two sides of a bad quarter. 

And then he found the clearing. It was perfect. Almost too perfect, in fact; if he hadn’t plotted this course himself, he’d wonder if Sabertooth had herded him here deliberately. He parked his bike, the lock, the kickstand, just on the outskirts - best chance he had to keep it safe. He could run back on foot, sure, but he really didn’t want to. 

He didn’t want any of this, but Victor never cared what he wanted - unless it was to take it away. 

That fucking bastard. Logan should be at home, resting or training or working on lesson plans, grading papers or having a smoke. Instead, he was in the middle of ass-fuck nowhere, about to go toe to toe with Victor Fucking Creed.

Fine. His claws pop from between his knuckles, the sound of metal sliding on metal ringing out in the eerie silence. If they were gonna do this, he was gonna enjoy flaying Sabertooth alive. 

Victor doesn’t make him wait. It’s vicious. An unforgiving brawl that paints the forest red. Teeth. Claws. Fists. Legs. Every part of them was a weapon and a target. His blood. Victor’s blood. He couldn’t tell the difference. It clogged his nose, clumped in his hair and eyelashes, pooled in the back of his throat - bitter and metallic. Blow for blow they fought. Savage. Primal. Feral. Snarling animals snapping at any inch of flesh they could reach. He ripped open Victor’s stomach. Smelled the bitter reek of bile before Sabertooth’s organs healed the ruptures. Victor rakes across his face and Logan curses when his eye pops. By the time his vision returns in full, Victor is already on top of him, and Logan thrashes and snarls his fury but can’t, won’t, let the animal finish clawing its way out of his skull. It’d be an easy win for him -  but it’d also give Victor exactly what he wanted. That’s not gonna fuckin’ happen. Logan snarls, his fangs bared in a fury mocked by Victor’s crimson-stained grin. 

“Happy birthday, Runt.” Victor says, digging his claws into Logan’s chest. The pain only adds to the insult, so Logan does the only thing that makes sense. 

He spits in Victor’s face. Spits and reaches up to grab his shoulders and yank him into a solid headbutt. Feels cartilage snap and another burst of hot blood over his face. He torques and throws Victor off. Logan rolls through to a crouch and gouges the earth with his claws. 

“If ya’ wanna get me a present,” he gnashes, “I’ll take your head on a god-damn platter!” 

And he lunges again.

[angie-long-legs]

sitting on the edge of the bathtub and letting them lay their head against your thigh as the fatigue starts taking hold (for the injured loved one prompt ! )

It was only as Angel had started to drift off, wilted and wounded against the steadfast pillar that was his brother, that his head shot up from where it had drooped against his lap.

"Fuck," he mumbled automatically, a hand raking through his damp hair as he shifted upright, disturbing the pink-tinged, lukewarm bath water as he did so. The ripples distorted the injured flesh submerged beneath it - a thin, useless veil against a miserable truth.

It was too easy, that was the problem. Hell made it far too achievable for one to seek out emotional release in the form of a brawl or a turf war. There was certainly no shortage of bloodthirsty sinners looking to get their fix of a fight: fist or fire or otherwise, there was always someone seeking out that thrill. Angel could count on it.

What he hadn't counted on was the battle he had inserted himself into being more than a casual scrap between adrenaline-pumped brawlers. That he had inadvertently sandwiched himself between two warring gangs.

He most definitely hadn't counted on his very own estranged brother being a face amid the crowd.

Stock-still in pure shock, Angel had taken three gunshots to the abdomen before passing out.

When he had come to, the scene of the crime had dissipated and been replaced by a dim bathroom that Angel could only assume belonged to his brother, who was sitting at the edge of the bathtub. A glance down told Angel that Niss had fixed up his major wounds, and a shallow bath had been drawn for Angel to cleanse the more superficial scrapes and rinse away the blood and dirt.

How long had it been since they had seen each other? And here they were again, Angel getting into trouble while Arackniss was left to pick up the pieces.

"Fuck," he muttered again, this time reaching forward for the plug to drain the tub. "Y' got a towel or somethin', Niss?"

He could confront his brother about what exactly was going on when he wasn't soaking wet and naked.

[sakurarisen]

“ look at me. “

Send 'Look at me' to re-catch Sera's attention in tense moments!

The smell was unmistakable. The eerie quiet, the overbearing tension... The trip was supposed to be routine. Go out, look around the edge of the jungle, make sure things were quiet. Step out into the drier, desert-like terrain past its edge and make sure Shinra hadn't followed him - There was no risk to the village, nor to her family, nor to him. He could settle at the village's edge for as long as he needed and desired, and they'd have nothing to worry about past the villagers in Gongaga, and their reaction to the former SOLDIER living so close to them after the reactor's explosion.

It was supposed to be routine - Not stumble across a small, former battlefield at the jungle's edge. Not the bloodshed staining the grass and plant life, or the remains tucked away under oversized plants. Shinra, mercenaries, just a fight between rival factions from elsewhere in the world, Sera couldn't tell... And in that moment, she couldn't even have told her companion her own name if he'd asked. The sight was a horrifying one, prompting her to grab her bow and ready herself in case to cause of it all still lingered in the area. Gongaga needed protecting - Shayan needed protecting - and she was more than willing to fight for that safety... Just as much as her stomach was ready to empty itself at the sight, horror rushing through her and quickly squashing her ability to think.

The familiar sting of tears burned her eyes before her vision blurred, breathing slowly growing short, but heavier as air refused to find its way into her lungs. The smell was suffocating, the view terrifying, the air itself around the pair oppressive, honey colored eyes drifting from spot to spot, every logical, clear thought fleeing the blonde's head. She'd had no time to prepare and no reason to think such a thing could be in their path; it was a common thing in the world Shinra had been growing and trying to control for so many years, and yet it was still enough to put an absolute stop to Sera's everything and turn her stomach. No training could ready herself for the crimson stains marking the grass just feet from her boots-

"-era-"

She could feel her blood running cold, stomach sinking, then raising, threatening to-

"Look at me."

It wasn't the words to break through her muddled mental state, but the touch, fingers gripping her chin with a strong but surprisingly gentle grip and turning her head to the side, then up. A gasp left her lips only a second before her gaze landed on Sephiroth's face, the familiar handsome features clearly unbothered by the battlefield, but his eyes... There was concern in them, she realized, his expression almost... Soft, though she wasn't sure such a word could fit a soldier who had seen more than his fair share of fighting and bloodshed if she spoke it.

"Look. At. Me."

The repeated command was surprisingly soft, and a moment later, her bow slipped from her loosening grip, dropping to the ground by her feet. Forming, budding tears took his presence, comforting and familiar, as permission to break free and roll down her cheeks in a rush, and while embarrassment was quick to set in over her reaction, it was quickly pushed aside by the flood of thoughts and emotions finally broken free from the wall her anxiety and panic had pushed them behind.

He was a SOLDIER - Or had been, at least. This was a common sight for him, one she wasn't sure if it even bothered him anymore. He'd caused such scenes in the past, she was sure, and yet it was that same man she was staring at through a blurred gaze, lips parting to try and tell him she was okay, then pressing back together when nothing came out. All for the best, probably; she was far from 'okay', even marginally so, and if her stomach settled, that was the most she could ask for.

And in that moment, she couldn't find anything other than thankfulness among the panic and nausea for his touch. She'd later realize he'd used himself as a distraction, that he'd seen her breaking down before she'd even realized it, done what he could to snap her from her panic attack using the same tried and true method of touch to ground herself she often used on her own, and even wonder if he'd done it from seeing her do so so many times in the years they'd known each other. She'd later thank him and apologize, express how grateful she was he was there and how grounding he was just by being there-

But in that moment, she'd give his expression one final search before she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him and hiding her face against his chest to sob.

[ask-abracadaniel]

Welcome!

|| an AU ask blog for Abracadaniel! takes place post-Fionna and Cake ||

Rules!

you can be rude to Abracadaniel, just don't go after the mod!

you can flirt, I suppose, just keep it somewhat sfw at least!

please be patient, I am slow to update!

AU! runs off headcanons and asks!

no M!A at the moment, but perhaps later!

feel free to ask me to tag things!

you can spam asks, likes, and reblogs! I'd appreciate it!

(more may get added)

Mod!

hi! I'm Wally! I use he/it/pup/dog/hero/sword pronouns! my main is @transpuppetboy !

I love Abracadaniel u don't understand. I am so mentally ill about him

[aberrational]

12 Is your OC self-destructive? In what ways?

Edgy/misc OC ask meme ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

The Perfect Person exhales a chuckle, apparently amused or exasperated at the question. "No, duh." It sets its paw against its chest; digits pressed against fabric, fingers arced concave and palm tense away from it, "I'm a perfect person, if not the Perfect Person, as a proper noun and singular. What is the point of self-destruction? It doesn't help anything. It doesn't feel good. It troubles the people near you and makes you look stupid, the type of stupid you can never escape from. Such permanence must be avoided, in the case you find yourself wishing you'd never fumbled in the fire place." It throws its paws up to the point where they're parallel with its shoulders, arms bent in the traditional 'whatever' gesture. "I exist largely to try and pin down others self-destructive tendencies and eliminate them. I'd be a knowing hypocrite if I engaged in what I was tasked with terminating despite being aware of the phenomenon at play and potential solutions to pick at. Do you really think that little of me?" It puts on a faux miserable expression, ears drooping and eye wide and wet, its frown trembling as if it might erupt into sobs if challenged.

The Perfect Person is near exclusively self-destructive in a lattice of ways almost too complicated to even begin to describe. Its occupation and title make it sick and distressed, yet it still must perform actions that haunt it. It is perfectly capable of making moves and sounds to disobey, which is actively harmful to it in the sense that it can and will put a tangible target on its back. It metronomes back and forth between compliance and rebellion, or often exists in both states at once, getting the worst of both worlds; its inability to change in the face of this conflict can be attributed to self-destruction as it wallows in its misery, never resolving to go either way. Much of its boisterousness shown in responses isn't primarily the Perfect Person lying to the viewer, but instead the Perfect Person lying to itself, refusing to analyze itself or focus on any self improvement as it cannot admit to any follies or issues it has-- if it does admit to an issue, it has a few dozen justifications, excuses, and obstacles in the way of doing anything about it stored, waiting to be shared. Again, this stagnation and permissibility of harmful conditions can be categorized as self-destruction, especially as it calls out the same in others. It obsesses over pursuing relationships it knows it has no business being in, and once it is there, its exceedingly manic and outrageous behaviors to others that it cares for or others who it would be ashamed of to act inappropriately in front of is also pretty intentional on the Perfect Person's part. It is eager to ruin relationships with others, as despite yearning for company, it does not value said company consciously and believes it is better off without intimate connections. As such, it has very violently avoided and dismissed those who have attempted to get it help. It gravitates towards aggressive, unpleasant individuals in part in the hope that they may turn their violence towards him, and it has a tendency to bite its own hands and arms as self stimulation.

[razzle-zazzle]

you need to STOP IT with these ho/me/stu/ck aus. first psychonauts, now ninjago? STOP! BONKING YOU WITH A NEWSPAPER!

NOOOOO DON'T BONK ME!!! it won't stop me unfortunately, i love adding hs trolls to things 😌

anyway 💅 alternia as another realm within the 16 and maybe there was an invasion of ninjago at some point in the past, i'm still working out details. but the basic gist is a bunch of trolls immigrated to ninjago and honestly between the serpentine and munce and geckle and merlopians and the occasional skulkin and also the fucking. floating jaguars and boogie bears and everything else they fit right in tbh. they mostly keep to themselves but there is a bit of mingling between humans trolls and serpentine (up until the serpentine war at least), but trolls as elemental masters is next to unheard of given that trolls and humans can't really reproduce together that way.

except when wu goes to find all the holders of the elements of creation for the green ninja prophecy, well. Colton Bekkit and Nya are very obviously trolls, and wu knew that his brother had somehow managed to have a son with Tomeseek. what he wasn't expecting was for the masters of ice and lightning to have been raised by trolls, too. things are about to get chaotic (colton ends up crushing on the other three in three different quadrants pretty much. immediately. nya and kai had to raise each other and so nya's not really in touch with troll culture. things are only going to go off the rails from there)

[gatheringkeepsakes]

i think it's really significant that Weiss's words we're the last we heard before Ruby - after nine volumes of repression - finally snapped.

[thebigqueer]

2 years ago i fucked up a friendship w a girl (that im pretty sure i was in love with). to this day i think of her and sometimes when i see her on the street i just wanna cry. i understand your plight very much.

yeahhh man im sorry to hear that!!! it genuinely fucking sucks and i would never wish this upon anyone. cuz like it makes you fully think about all the what ifs and i genuilnely dont think ill ever find someone like her again

[cinnamon-bunni]

NOT okay right now im thinking abt pokemon leaving scars on their trainers + everyday, domestic problems.....