#im sick and tagging is making me sicker

[kurj]

South Indian / Tamil Miku dancing Bharatanatyam

My comments under are the cut. My other Mikus (minoan): click and click.

this time I tried to keep the design more accurate when it comes to her original colors (hence more gray) but also had to recreate the cultural outfit properly. Golden stuff kinda ruins the palette but they are a must so I guess it's a lesson for me to plan better in the future. I also skipped the leek: adding it to the "temple jewellery" wouldn't be very respectful I guess. I also kinda forgot lol.

I'm not Indian so I hope I didn't duck this up too much - I did a lot of research.

[yikes-ajax-thats-sad]

People really think trust issues are just "aww they're scared of love" and it's like bitch no. Trust issues as in I'm deeply in love and the issue is I'm waiting for you break my heart after undergoing periodic abuse in relationships. I'm not scared of love I'm scared of what you'll do with it.

[madwickedawesome]

ouugggnbhththhyh 🤒

[flamingo--ing]

my biggest issue w all of this beyond yhe agony and uselessness and the horrors etc is how badly my abandonment issues are coming out bc like cmon.

[carrotpiss]

This is a bunch of sad lost and confused and frustrated and lonely sludge, advise not reading

[heavynightshade]

sam likes broken toys

pairing. sam winchester x ofc!hunter summary. ofc is on the verge of a nervous breakdown, but she doesn't seem to know. word count. 1200 a/n. it's written in first person, but i believe it can be read as "x reader". also, english isn't my first language and im currently watching the second season of supernatural. tags. angst with a happy ending, i think

chapter 2 | chapter 3 (soon)

Why in the nine circles of hell is Sam Winchester laughing at the blonde at the bar? I personally wouldn't know. God, why a blonde? Dean loves to say that I have some kind of complex with everyone who has too little melanin in their hair and make it everyone else's problem. Whatever.

We're somewhere in the backwoods of Louisiana, hunting some kind of vengeful spirit. Supposedly a father who killed his entire family and then killed himself. We only have a few problems: Dean's car broke down, my laptop stopped working and the bones of the father in question are missing. What a great week!

When I enter the bar where we agreed to meet, I avoid staring too much, like, I don't want to seem desperate or psychotic, so, I go straight to the side of the bar where Dean is.

"A beer, please," I ask the bartender.

"On the house, sweetie," he answers.

Well, I'm not ugly, seriously. But I've had better times. Surprising.

I could have sworn I saw Sammy's back tense for a second, but then he just turned and nodded at me. Whatever. I'm going crazy (unofficially).

"You seem absolutely disturbed, especially today," Dean starts a conversation while looking at the waitress with a certain hunger.

"We have to work, you know?" I sigh. "Disgusting!"

"We don't have anything similar to the internet in this backwater, and the library is protected by Fort Knox for some reason," he takes a sip of his drink. "And you know, he's only attacked on even-numbered days so far. So happy Friday the 13th! Go relax."

Dean smiles and walks towards the waitress who had passed by seconds ago. Oh, my god, something tells me not to wait up for him. Kids, — he's older than me — grow up so quickly…

Sometimes I think about the dream I had the other night. Sure, I've dreamed about the brothers a few times, usually about the hunts, and it ends with someone almost, or actually getting killed. Sometimes I kill them, when I take the place of the monster of the week. My psychiatrist probably has some opinion on this, but whatever, I could handle a nightmare. Sure, beat the trauma once or twice a week.

But this time, it was even worse. I had sex with Sam, or rather, he fucked me brainless. He corrupted my dignity. And for God's sake, the memories alone are enough to make me cry, again. I’m afraid to even look at his face. The shame could kill me. Thinking about it, death seems like a pretty funny experience, you know. That didn't matter, right now he was apparently having a lot of fun with someone else, and he would probably have a lot more fun soon.

Yeah. Sammy deserves better.

Sam was still caught up in the conversation with the blonde. My crush on him was probably reaching levels that were much less mature and less feminist than I should have expected, which is detestable. I like to be someone with ideals, and I would like those ideals to resist a 6'4" man who looks like a walking encyclopedia. We need more sisterhood!

Fuck it.

Of course the jealousy made me sick. Every second by their side is enough to make me even sicker. Oh my God, I'm burning. I hated blondes and the only exception I can make is Stevie Nicks.

I have poor self-control, when it comes to candies, tequila, Chesterfield Black and Sam Winchester.

I look at the analog clock on the wall, a big red one that matches my lipstick. After all, I don't think it's good to have personality crises early, but, I mean, it was already past 11pm.

After that I ordered a shot of whiskey and headed over to a pool table. In fact, I am an excellent player. If the Winchesters can have fun, why can't I do the same?

Can manage to laugh a little with some guys for a few minutes. Yeah, maybe I prayed a little that one of them would want to sleep with me. I could be good at something.

As I go to bend down for the next move, a hand weighs down on my arm. I instinctively use the bat to hit him, but I'm partially unarmed, so the blow doesn't have full force.

"Why are you doing this to me?" His gaze makes my body burn. As if I was being judged on Doomsday, the only difference was that I cared about the future when it comes to him.

"Sam? What? No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you." I mumble a few words. When did he get here?

"Why are you torturing me, Ivy?”

Ivy, like poison ivy, I thought. Sam told me once that I was filled with poison but blessed with beauty and rage. He was drunk as fuck, or it as me? I avoided thinking. I am not able to deal with things. I have not been able to for a long time. I’m no good.

I can barely think of a response as he drags me across the room. Sam's soft eyes and brusque attitude leave me confused. And I just let him lead me. Unfortunately, I trust him.

Sometimes alcohol makes me shaky, and this was the only reasonable explanation for what was happening now. I'm confused and in nicotine withdrawal, I keep telling myself, again, and again. I'm shaking.

Outside the bar, sam, lets go of me, almost throwing me against the wall, but he doesn't. His puppy dog eyes, he's so gentle. Gentler than I ever deserved. Perhaps, his kindness was the real violence.

“Listen, Sammy, I’m sorry, again, I didn't mean to hit you” Actually, I’m not sure about what to say.

“I won't tolerate your shit this time”

What the actual fuck?

“Don't look at me like that. Day after day you've been killing yourself. Acting like you hate this life. Hating each and every one of us. Hating Dean. Hating me.” His voice trembles. Sam runs his hands through his hair, like he's going to die if he doesn't speak up now. ”God, why don't you accept help? Why do you carry this weight on your shoulders alone?”

“Calm down, Sam. I'm a grown woman. I'm fine, I swear. The last week has just been stressful, that's-”

“Shut up! Jesus! You drank so much, as if some kind of dry law was going to start tomorrow! You only eat shit and don't get me started on the night terrors” He sighs “Fuck, I wish I could distance myself from you a little.”

“Why are you saying these things?” My eyes were watering, but I didn't want him to see me crying. Damn it.

“Because maybe if I could stay away from you, maybe I could love you less, and not care about you destroying yourself day after day.”

My face was wet with tears, but I couldn't understand the reason. I wanted to speak but I couldn't. unable to formulate a coherent thought and express it.

“But you know what? There is no corner of the earth that will keep your name from burning in my memory. I will never be able to be far enough away from you.” Then he hugs me, and I lose track of time as I cry. “I'll always be your friend, Ivy.”

a/n. thank u so much for reading. lmk what you think!! im planning make this a three chapters history, so if u have any suggestions feel free to tell me!

[scp690]

getting back into dr …. i love their dynamic theyre so power difference medical malpractice nurse x patient

and theyre both such strange creepy freaks, ,, mikan likes it when her patients are at her mercy, and with nagito’s constantly weak state… its such a delicious dynamic.

nagito probably loves being cared for by mikan when he’s sick because it’s the only time when an ultimate like her gives him any attention. he’d say something about feeling so worthless and undeserving of being treated by the ultimate nurse and mikan is so needy and desperate she’d quickly become addicted to his praise. maybe she’d start slipping things into his food to make him sicker so she can care for him more. reminds me of that one meme of hitting your crush with your car so you can nurse them back to health, yeah,, , thats mikan.

i love them so much they both need to be locked up in an asylum asap

yeah thats all i wanted to write abt… theyre just a really interesting pairing and i think they need more attention… still scared of the dr fandom though so im only tagging komamiki… ♡

[fall0utmind]

i have absolutely NO knowlege about motogp but ive read through the a/b/o sick fic tag and OMG YOUVE GIVEN ME BRAIN WORRRMMMMSSSSSS

marc. omg marc. omg omg evil little italian man valentino. it sounds so good theres angst theres evil theres longing theres a/b/o what more could there be in the world. I'm 100% going to follow wherever you go with this because its DELICIOUSSSS. I would LOVE to hear any more hcs or story tidbits you want to throw out there!

Brain worms, hehe 🪱🪱🪱

Big love to you for coming all this way to tell me this. I love some angst and pining. It's great.

Have been thinking a lot about what happens when marc eventually gets sicker.

The problem is, the longer he spends around the others, the worse it gets, so being with pecco, being in Ducati, is making it so much worse. It starts small. He's managing at the start of the season, plus the summer break and subsequent distance help a lot. But the European races are so much worse, and Valentino being there too, it's just a disaster. Marc is struggling to make it through races or training, trying to ignore the symptoms which are just getting worse.

Some days, after a long weekend on track, too much time around Vale's pack, Marc can barely get out of bed. His arm aches, his scent glands are swollen, he can't sleep, and the thought of food makes him want to throw up.

The biggest issue is keeping is a secret, trying to convince his family, his friends, the team, that he's OK.

He eventually gives in, when he gets halfway through a workout one day in September, sweaty and exhausted, collapsed on the floor, praying Alex will stay out for 30 minutes longer. He doesn't. Instead, he finds Marc like that. Cue absolute insane panic, alex not know what's happening, marc trying to play it down.

Alex forces him to see a doctor (because i don't think Marc would voluntarily - a bit of medical trauma there). They diagnosis him with "currently unnamed pack/ bond sickness" - life span limiting, very rare, rejection probably caused it - any idea what caused this??

Marc looking away, not making eye contact like... "no..."

Anyways, Marc is just getting sicker and sicker as the weekends go on. Doctors are begging him to stop, taking suppressants, and yo consider his options - Marc isn't listening because the 9th world title - maybe then vale will love him (ouch)

I need to flesh this out a bit more. Also if anyone has any ideas about what to fucking call the sickness, that would be great

Im defo going to make it as dramatic as I can!!!

[transmalewife]

apparently i have to say smth so the readmore works

yep, I agree with almost everything here with one caveat. The climate assumptions I'm working under (net zero emissions by 2050) are not "ehhh" they are the recommended course of action and only option we have to avoid catastrophe. Also, like. Even ignoring the catastrophe, we have enough oil left for 50 years at current levels of consumption. Even if we reduce it, sooner or later we either make electric planes or we stop flying. And I personally think there's more important things to use the remaining oil on like medical uses of plastic or yeah, visiting family, than going sightseeing in venice.

Yeah I actually know a lot of people who fit the description of "middle class moved to richer country for work regularly visits family back home." I can think of maybe one out of dozens who definitely go back home forever without looking back if it weren't for money. Thing is, when people get settled somewhere, they tend to make families. At which point they're pretty much stuck between two places forever unless they divorce, split the kids and never look back. The people who would probably go home en masse are working class immigrants working min wage jobs in richer countries, and they don't fly home to visit families very often in the first place

"the fact is that *less time will be spent online*." I disagree. Again, just under half of all people don't yet have access to the internet. Even if so called "edge cases" like me, which actually means most people, since im right around the global daily average time online, cut our time in half, global time online would stay the same. also, you don't have to sell me on socialism itself. I broadly agree and it's just straying from the topic

here we're just gonna have to disagree. you see I believe that for all the horrible uses capitalism has put it to, (and the negative social consequences that leads to) the internet is a good thing. It is not a bug to be removed under global socialism, it is a necessary condition to achieve it. As well as other ideals you meantioned before. say, education removing the need for business travel. there is no other possible tool to implement equal access and level of education worldwide than the internet. also i'm sorry but "much of the planet is currently a parking lot," what are you even talking about. there's 5 times less cars than people in the world. the vast majority of people don't drive. I haven't even been in a car or on a parking lot since like december. This is an extremely american perspective. to most people from europe america looks like a dystopian car worshiping nightmare. it is not however much of the planet.

not sure what you mean here. like yeah tourism under capitalism has capitalistic effects. that was the point of this post. trying to imagine tourism under socialism

"Broadly, problems of sanitation, etc have been solved." again, what are you even talking about? a fourth of all people don't have access to clean water. due to climate change and droughts, people in 'developed' countries don't have drinking water. Bc of the curent drought in spain towns are being supplied with water from a lake that farmers dump literal shit in.

cool, again. I was just looking for ideas on how to do it in the 21st century through a leftist perspective

Also regarding your tags. Not every disabled person needs a wheelchair. I don't. you can carry me down the 4 floors from my studio apartment and stick me in a wheelchair all you want, won't change the fact I spend about a fourth of my time in winter sick in bed with a severe cold. Or that I'm chronically fatigued and if i go outside, whether i need to walk or not, I will make myself sicker and more tired. Not to mention there's a literal fucking plague and the thing capitalism specifically did that killed millions of people was specifically forcing everyone to go outside. I know socialism will accomodate disabilities, again, I agree with socialism! you don't need to convince me! I know habits are hard to break but I swear i am on board with this. But the point is sometimes accomodating disabilities is letting disabled people form friendships and get their education in ways that don't require going outside, or maybe speaking, or maybe having to shower every day. The internet can do that, and I don't think anything else can.

does anyone have any leftist reading on the subject of tourism to recommend? Specifically about how travel for fun, education, sport, friendship or whatever might work in a communist or anarchist or socialist society. Because like yeah, open borders or no borders whatever, cool. But that usually only gets discussed in the context of permanent immigration

Idk I guess I just find it hard to imagine how it could be organized since where I live the most obvious ways capitalism has made things worse over my lifetime have all happened because of and through the lens of tourism. Rents literally doubling over the last five years, while the standard of living falls because apartments are bought, split into tiny pieces and renovated to accomodate a couple days of living at most. The specific kind of gentrification that is NOT being pushed out by richer people moving in permanently, who might cause more expensive shops and services to replace the affordable ones, but do still need the basic necessities everyone does to live. Instead, all hairdressers, repair shops, clothing stores (especially thrift shops), pharmacies, post offices etc etc close and are replaced by luxury boutiques, clubs and stores whre you can only buy snacks, alcohol and microwave meals. Restaurants and bars hiking up prices because most of their clients come from places with stronger currencies etc etc.

At the same time though I believe travel is a crucial part of a fulfilling life for most if not all people. I believe people have the right to see and appreciate the culture and history of other places and also like... maybe go somewhere warmer and lay on the beach sometimes, even if they prefer to live and work somewhere colder. Or go skiing even if they chose to live somewhere warm and without mountains. Or even just like... vacation in a big city if they live in the countryside and vice versa. Or pop over to another continent to visit an online friend maybe. Although obviously intercontinental travel would have to be hugely limited until and unless we find ways to do it that don't destroy our planet.

At the same time some precautions do have to be taken to protect historical and especially sacred sites. Like, I don't think endless crowds should be allowed to trample through historical buildings and also open borders obviously doesn't mean white tourists get to go camping on Uluru. But on some level I do believe everyone who wants to should get to see Venice at least once in their life. But that's probably not feasible so like... who gets to decide? On what merit? Are historians, artists, journalists privileged? Or should it be a lottery?

Also I think there's a significant amount of tourism that would simply die out if going to that place wasn't a status symbol. Like you cannot convince me that if you spend 2 weeks by the pool in an enclosed luxury resort it makes a difference that it's on Hawaii rather than like... in florida. And then theres places like the Hamptons. What the fuck is the point of the Hamptons, other than bragging rights?

Obviously I know none of this is even remotely the main pressing issue to solve about a potential communist society, but then again, that's why I'm asking for reading materials, because it so rarely gets discussed. I mean I bet Marx wrote about it, which, great, point me to the relevant fragments please and I'll have a look but also this is an issue where a modern perspective would be really important. I don't think Marx, for all his wisdom, really has a solution to "what are the ethics of taking an 8 hour flight to visit a tumblr mutual".

Or maybe this whole thing is me being cynical and this is another place where things would sort of just regulate themselves. Anyway. Send me reading recs and let's very unscientifically try to check if it could work. Do try to be honest, like I've been several times as a kid and I would still go again in a heartbeat.

btw the goal of the poll is to get some kind of percentage that can be compared with the world population and how many tourists venice can support per year, though I obviously know tumblr skews mainly american and european

[800-dick-pics]

Were about to be without power!

TLDR: My mom missed so much work leading up to her heart attack that bills bounced from her accts and now we are scrambling because the internet and power are basically being shut off back to back! CA: $sleepyhen OR $grumblybear

VN: wildwotko OR XochiRose

My mom has been dealing with an increase of various undiagnosed chronic illnesses for the past two months and was in the ER 6 times before her recent heart attack. Since she basically is unable to work right now her last check isnt going to cover much of anything.

I have a job starting in late Oct but I still need internet to finish my schooling/get certified as an herbalist. I do plan on selling my art again but that also requires internet access, and since my partner is not a legal resident finding jobs is really really difficult for them right now. There is a lot of shit going on in my life right now, Until I get my 1st check at the end of Oct or sell some art between now and then I dont have any income to cover any bills (my own phone has been unpaid as well). We can go without internet for a while but I really dont want all of our food to go to waste, because that was the last food I was able to buy for our house. The electric/gas is $181 and the internet is $320

CA: $sleepyhen OR $grumblybear

VN: wildwotko OR XochiRose

[softpxls]

hello everyone, it sure has been three years

i totally forgot about this blog until just now so i thought i’d give a bit of a life update? im not sure how many of my followers are still active/remember me, but idk

a lot has happened! and i’m in a much, MUCH better place mentally than i was when i was running this blog. although i enjoyed making stimboards and posting stim content, i found the stim community extremely toxic and exhausting, and i also perpetuated toxic behavior myself (like advocating that the media you watch reflects on how good of a person you are), and i’m really sorry for that.

i was 16 when i started this blog and i’m 21 now! so that’s wild. i graduated high school, started T, worked on a farm for a while, got top surgery, got diagnosed with fibromyalgia, went to college, got diagnosed with ptsd, realized i want to be a marine biologist, got really really sick, and got diagnosed with lyme disease. i am now finally receiving treatment and even though i’m physically much sicker than i was in high school, i am so much happier and at ease with myself.

im not sure what the stim community is like nowadays but i hope its a more peaceful place now than it used to be lol

currently im working on a biology degree with a focus on ecology and marine science and i’m having an awesome time. i got to actually tag 2 wild sharks this summer and that was pretty much the highlight of my entire life.

not really sure how to end this but i just wanted to post a little update and kind of reflect on this blog

[callboxkat]

Infinitesimal (part 22)

Author’s note: It’s a day late, but it’s here! Also, reminder that there won’t be an update this upcoming Monday, since I will be in Death Valley.

Warnings: illness, injury mention, death mention, a bit of arguing, food mention

Word count: 1617

Look in the notes for the masterpost!

...

As the afternoon wore into the evening, Virgil was relieved to see that Emile seemed to be continuing to improve. His throat was still sore, and he was clearly still tired, but he wasn’t nearly as dizzy, and his fever had gone down. Virgil wished he knew how to help Emile get better faster, but he was glad for the improvements either way.

Virgil looked through their things, trying to decide what would be best to bring Emile for dinner. Their food supply was running very low without Emile’s supply runs, but it wasn’t quite gone yet. At last he chose a piece of cereal, put it in a bowl, and mashed it up with a bit of water. Emile was having a hard time swallowing, so this would hopefully make it easier.

It had been a distressing past few days. Not that he would ever say it out loud—the thought was too terrifying to voice—but Virgil had feared for a while there that his brother was dying. There had been times that Emile had bordered on delirium, coughing and shivering despite how warm he felt to the touch. There was little that Virgil wouldn’t do to keep that from happening again.

As he walked back into the other room with the bowl, Virgil couldn’t help but think about times that he had put Emile in a similar position. When he’d hurt his foot, and later lost part of his tail, Virgil knew that Emile had been terrified. And while Virgil had already understood the reasons for the extreme overprotectiveness that Emile had shown for him afterwards, he did so better now. Having his brother hurting and not knowing what to do to help was a horrible feeling.

A bit of guilt welled up in Virgil’s chest as he thought about how much he had put Emile through in the past—not to mention how he’d probably feel if he knew not only that Virgil still left the safety of the walls, but how often.

Virgil sighed, lowering himself to sit by Emile, who was propped up on bundled up blankets in their nest. He laid his crutch at his side, where he had left its twin. “Here you go,” he said quietly, handing the bowl and spoon over to his brother, who nodded in thanks.

…

Patton blinked awake. It was still dark in the room, so why was he awake? It couldn’t have been too long since he’d fallen asleep. He sat up partway with a yawn, propped up on his elbows, and looked around for what had woken him. He got his answer a few seconds later when he saw the shadow at the edge of the table.

“Virgil,” he whispered in surprise, sitting up fully now.

“Hey, Patton.” Virgil sounded tired, he noticed with a frown.

“You okay, kiddo?” he asked. When Virgil only shrugged, he ‘Pat’ted the spot next to him hopefully. Virgil obliged him, coming nearer, and Patton scooted over as he sat down.

“Sorry I haven’t visited.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Patton said. “I’m fine.” He lay back down, his head on one half of his pillow. After a moment, Virgil lay down too, sighing softly. Patton looked at him for a second. “What’s going on?” he finally asked.

“Emile’s been sick. My brother.”

Patton frowned in concern, rolling onto his side. “Is he better now?”

“Mostly. It was a bit… scary, for a while, though. That’s why I haven’t come lately.” Virgil let out a soft laugh, not out of amusement, but pent-up stress. “I didn’t want to leave him for that long… but I didn’t even know what to do, so it’s not like I was of much use.”

“He’s better now,” Patton reminded him. “And I’m sure he’s glad you were there for him.”

“Yeah, but….” Virgil rubbed at one eye. “It’s just been a rough few days. I know it’s stupid, but I’m… I’m scared he’s going to get worse again.” His voice was starting to get shakier and softer the longer he spoke.

“We could talk about something else, if you want,” Patton offered. “Or not talk at all, if you just want to hang out.”

Virgil was silent for a moment. It seemed like he was going to choose the option to just stay there in silence together, but then he too rolled over onto one side, so the two were facing each other.

“How about you?” he asked.

“Me?”

“How are you doing?”

Patton turned to pull one of his blankets up to cover both of them. “I’m just fine, Virgil, like I said.”

“Are you well enough to leave?” Virgil asked after a second. Patton paused, the blanket only partially pulled up. Virgil waited a moment, but he continued when Patton didn’t say anything. “If you’re really doing better, we should go now,” he said.

Patton couldn’t help the small bloom of excitement in his chest at the prospect of finally getting away from humans. But…. He made an uncertain noise in his throat.

Virgil frowned. He looked down over at Patton’s hands, which Patton knew he would be able to tell were still bandaged, even with how dark it was. Patton pulled the blanket up the rest of the way.

“I think I am ready,” he said. And it was true: while he was still kind of weak, while his hands and bruised torso weren’t quite healed yet, he was almost sure that he could get away now, especially with Virgil’s help. “But I don’t know if leaving is the best choice right now.”

Virgil looked baffled. “Why?”

“Your brother. You need to focus on him right now.”

“I can focus on more than one thing. Besides, he’s getting better.”

“But what if he gets worse again?” Patton asked. “Which I doubt he will,” he quickly added, sensing Virgil tense. “But on the off chance… isn’t this a way to find out what to do if that happens? I could talk to the humans, or—or maybe fake his sickness, to figure out what you should do.”

“Patton… you don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he assured gently.

“But I haven’t even done anything to deserve this… you deserve to be free, and you’ve been stuck here so long—I haven’t even come to see you in days! Why would you stay here with humans because of something that might happen?”

Patton waited for Virgil to finish, and he was about to answer when he was interrupted by the latter’s stomach growling. He hesitated, studying his face as best he could in the dark. “Virgil, have you eaten tonight? Or at all today?”

The silence served as his answer. Patton pushed himself up and went over to the food dish that had originally been in the cage—Logan still occasionally refilled it, for if Patton got hungry when the humans weren’t there. Patton picked out a few items: a peanut, some dried fruit, and a sunflower seed. He brought them over to Virgil.

“Take these,” he said, putting them down.

Virgil looked like he was going to refuse, but his stomach growled again before he could. He reluctantly sat up, picked up one of the pieces of dried fruit, and bit into it.

While he ate, Patton spoke. “Kiddo, I really do want to help you. You’ve done your best to help me, and I appreciate that so much. You tried to get me out of here when you first found me, you’ve come to visit—and don’t you feel bad about not doing that recently; family comes first. You even helped sew my outfit.” He paused, admiring the stitching on his new shirt, before looking back up. “You didn’t have to do any of that. Let me do this for you. As soon as Emile is better, you can come get me. Okay?”

“What if something happens to you?” Virgil asked, not looking at him.

Patton thought for a moment, biting his lip. “You know, Virge, I don’t think anything will.”

Virgil looked up sharply at the admission. “You’re starting to trust them, aren’t you?”

Patton shrugged guiltily. “Maybe. I know I shouldn’t, and I am acting sicker than I am, like you asked me to. But I really don’t think anything is going to happen. They’ve been listening to me, so far, on everything.”

“Not everything, clearly. They’re trying to keep you here against your will.”

“They haven’t put me back in the cage since that first night.”

“Only because they think you can’t get off the table.”

“Well… they don’t know that you helped me get down that first time,” Patton pointed out.

Virgil was starting to look exasperated. “Patton—.”

“Can we stop?” he asked, very softly. Virgil broke off immediately. “I know you’re worried about me. But I’m getting out of here very soon, right? As soon as Emile is better. So, it doesn’t matter whether the humans are planning anything or not, does it? I won’t be sticking around to find out.”

Virgil looked at him for a moment. He slowly nodded, and Patton’s shoulders dropped in relief. He didn’t want to argue.

The other little seemed to remember then that he hadn’t finished his food, and he slowly lifted the peanut back up to his mouth. Patton lay back down, and when Virgil was finished eating, he joined him again.

“Sorry,” Virgil sighed, adjusting the blanket. “I just want everyone to be safe.”

“I know,” Patton murmured.

Virgil reached out, seeming hesitant, and put his arm over Patton’s side, like he had done the first time he had come to visit Patton like this. Patton smiled and moved closer, closing his eyes.

...

Tag list: @arc852 @thats-so-crash @romanasanders @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @anyay666 @bluebloodstains @nightmarejasmine @side-for-sides @infinitesimal-grey @cobythinks @justanotherpurplebutterfly @punsterterry @dylan-winchesters-blog @wofie-kinz @i-like-cookiez @smol-jar-of-pickles @musicwithalex @brookeisanerd @scorching-scotch @of-swords-and-princes @thepoolofthedead @a-black-pegasus @brooky71 @downrightdanny @rainbow-sides  @anxiousvirgilsanderss @picklesandbeyond @patton-loves-coloring @starryfirefliesbloggo @purplesoul-at-hogwarts  @gaylotusthatexists @quoth-the-sparrow @awesomelissawho @amuthefunperson @faithfreedom @heck-im-lost @gayfandomsaremything

[turtle-steverogers]

Departed Chap 4 Pt. 1

This is a long chapter so it’s going in two parts YEET

Ship: Slow burn Sprace

Warnings: None for this chapter yet?? But pt. 2 oof

It was 10:30 am by the time Spot was fully awake the next morning. Race was still asleep, his arm draped lazily across Spot’s stomach. For the moment, Spot decided to ignore the warm feeling that their closeness gave him, he’d deal with that later. As of right now, he had to get ready for the class he was instructing at the Tae Kwon Do studio at 11:15. He allowed himself two more minutes to lazily drink in the morning sunlight that shone across his bed, then carefully extracted himself from Race’s embrace and grabbed his uniform off of his desk chair.

Once he was dressed, he got to work cooking some scrambled eggs to eat before he left. A loud groan sounded from his bedroom and a few moments later, Race was dragging himself into the kitchen.

“Mornin’, Champ,” Spot greeted, smirking at Race’s obviously hungover state.

“I never wanna even see eggnog ever again,” Race grumbled, slinking over to the medicine cabinet and pulling out some Advil, “Ya got any orange juice?”

“Yeah, in the fridge,” Spot said, taking the eggs off of the heat and transferring half to a plate, “Ya want any eggs?”

Race nodded and Spot pulled out another plate for him, dumping the second half of the eggs onto it. Race poured two glasses of the orange juice and the two of them ate in peace.

Spot rinsed off the dishes while Race scrolled through his phone.

“How long you at work for today?” Race asked.

“Just ‘til two, itsa short day cuz of winter break.”

“Cool. Al was wonderin’ if we wanted to go ice skating later, should I tell him we’re in?”

“Yeah, I’m down.”

“Aight, everyone’s meetin’ at five.”

“Okay, I gotta head out.,” Spot said, grabbing his keys off of the hook, “I’ll see ya ‘round two ish. Ya know where ta find me.”

“‘Kay, bye.”

XXX

By the time the last class rolled around, Spot was at his wits end. Winter break having just started for the kids meant that they were exceptionally unfocused today, especially with the promise of snow that weekend.

“Aight, class, Charyut!” Spot called to the orange and green belts he was teaching at the moment, “We’re just goin’ ta go through your combinations real fast. When we move past the orange belt combos, all orange belts start back at the first one while the green belts do theirs, got it?”

A chorus of ‘yes, sirs’ rang from the group and Spot silently thanked the gods that this was one of his more mature classes.

“Good. Turn to your left with a loud yell, joon bi!” The class did so and Spot began to lead them through their combinations, only having to stop every so often to help a lost kid catch up. Twenty minutes later, he bowed out the class and went to get the mop from the back. He glanced at the clock, which read 1:30, and sighed.

‘Thirty minutes left,’ he thought to himself, pulling out his phone to listen to music, ‘then I’m off for two weeks.’ He grimaced and got to work cleaning the studio.

“Spot, man, I can clean,” Spot pulled out his headphones to see Elmer, his fellow instructor, crossing the mat to join him, “You’ve cleaned the past two times, it’s my turn, anyway.”

“Ya sure?” Spot asked.

“Positive,” Elmer said, already reaching out to take the mop from Spot, “Head home, man, Happy Holidays.”

“You’re a blessin’, Elmer, seriously,” Spot smiled, “Thank ya, Happy Holidays.”

“‘Course, I’ll see ya ‘round man.”

Spot signed out and waved to Elmer once more before leaving and walking to his car. He got back to the apartment at exactly 1:50 and found Race playing Fortnite in the living room. His eyes flickered away from the screen for a split second to look at Spot before returning his focus solely to the game.

“You’re back, early.” He said, his tone distracted.

“Yeah, Elmer offered ta clean,” Spot said, chuckling lightly as Race stuck his tongue between his teeth to concentrate, “I was wonderin’ when ya’d invade my X-Box.”

“Oh hush up, I’m doin’ better than you apparently have been.”

“Whatever, I’ma shower,” Spot said, already tugging off his black belt.

“Yeah, please do, you smell like feet- even from here.”

“Fuck you.”

“Only in ya dreams, Spottie-boy.”

By the time Spot got out of the shower, Race was in the kitchen hovering over the stove.

“Dude, ya don’t gotta cook anythin’,” Spot said, lazily towelling off his still damp hair, “We still have leftover lasagna and meatballs.”

“I know, but I saw this recipe for mac and cheese grilled cheese and ta hell if m’not trying it.”

Spot laughed, “Aight, just don’t make yourself sick.”

Race just shrugged as he pulled every kind of cheese that Spot owned out of the fridge, “Can’t make me any sicker than that goddamned eggnog from last night.” He said, squinting at the expiration date on some parmesan.

“Oh yeah, speakin’ of last night,” Spot said, tossing the towel over his shoulder and sitting at the kitchen counter, “How much d’you remember?”

Race stopped pulling out ingredients for a moment, furrowing his brows in thought, “Not much after I had summa Al’s weed. Why? Did I do somethin’ stupid?”

Spot hesitated, “You brought up Melissa.”

Race’s shoulders flinched slightly and he asked in a clipped tone, “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Spot bit his lip, trying to decide how to proceed through the conversation, “You, uh, told me about how she’d, uh, make you have sex-”

“Stop,” Race snapped, “Stop, I don’t wanna talk about this.”

“Race, you shouldn’t hafta handle this on your own. I-”

“Sean,” Race said, his voice dangerously low, “Stop talking.”

Spot nodded, “Alright, sorry.”

Race stood still for a moment before hastily shutting off the stove, “I’m not hungry anymore.” With that, he stalked out of the room. A second later, Spot could hear the bathroom fan turn on.

Spot sighed and got to work putting away all the ingredients and pots that Race had pulled out. It was obvious that Race wasn’t handling this whole ordeal as well as he had let on. He wanted to help him sort through it, but he couldn’t if Race refused to talk about it.

‘Oh well,’ He thought to himself, ‘I’ll let him come to me when he’s ready.’ He glanced at the clock. It was 2:30, which meant that they had about two hours before they had to head out to meet the others at the ice rink.

Race was evidently still camping in the bathroom, so Spot decided to go check on him.

He knocked lightly at the door, “Racer? You good?”

The door opened and Race pushed past Spot, his eyes obviously bloodshot.

“Yeah,” He called over his shoulder,“I’ma take a nap, wake me up when we gotta go.”

Spot felt worry itch at the back of his neck, but it was clear that Race wanted to be left alone, “Alright, I’m gonna do some grocery shopping, you want anything in particular?”

“No.”

Taking that as his cue to leave Race alone, Spot grabbed his keys off his hook and exited the apartment.

Although Race hadn’t asked for anything, Spot decided to pick him up a box of Honey Bunches of Oats. He figured he may as well get Race’s favorite if he was going to stay there for a while.

When he got back, he found Race fast asleep on his air mattress. It was still about an hour until they had to leave, so after putting away the groceries, Spot flipped on the TV and pulled up Netflix. He had just finished an episode of Breaking Bad whe Race stirred from across the room.

“What time’s it?” He mumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“4:30, we should leave in fifteen minutes if we wanna get there by five.”

“Okay, I’ma jus’ change and freshen up real fast.”

Spot turned off the TV as Race made his way to the bathroom and pulled himself off the couch to grab a jacket and thicker socks to wear to the ice rink. When he got to his room, he found Race digging through his duffel with a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth.

Spot scoffed, “What’re ya doin’?”

Race looked up at Spot, a bit of toothpaste smudged on his chin. He reached up and plucked the toothbrush out of his mouth, “M’lookin’ for my hat and gloves, but I think I left it back at my-uh..other place.”

“Here, jus’ borrow some of mine,” Spot suggested, strolling over to his closet and picking a blue winter hat and matching gloves out of a bin. He crossed the room to Race and placed the hat on his head.

“There,” Spot smiled, “Looks cute on ya.”

Spot froze, realizing that he had just called Race cute, but Race just smiled around the toothbrush, which was back in his mouth, “Thanks.”

“Uh..no problem.” Spot said, watching as Race stood up and went to the bathroom to rinse. He shook his head lightly- what was getting into him? First they had cuddled through the night before and now he was calling Race cute? Did he even have a right to do that since Race and Melissa were technically still in a relationship? Though he wasn’t entirely sure it was a relationship anymore, but they had never explicitly broken up. Beyond that, since when did Spot think about Race that way? Since when did-

“Spottie-boy, ya good?” Race said, effectively breaking Spot out of his thoughts, “You have the same look on your face thatcha have when you’re tryna do math.”

Spot scrunched his nose, “M’good, ya ready to roll?”

Race nodded and the two of them put on their jackets, hats, and gloves before leaving the apartment and walking down to Spot’s car.

TAG LIST: @bencookisagod @we-dont-sell-papes @suddenly-im-respecsable @aw-jus-let-em-spook @well-the-kids-do-too @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @thatpoorguysheadisspinning @newsies-of-nyc @andthewoildwillknow

[archieimagines]

Autumnal Imagine Prompts

ok so basically we decided to do one of these things and we’re excited

this is how it’s gonna work - request the number of the prompt you want with a character you want, and our writers will try our darnedest to bust out a really yummy imagine for you (if we get carried away into one shot territory then oops but oh well). 

when we receive a request, the prompt will be crossed out and you won’t be able to request it again, because we don’t want a bunch of duplicates! they’ll start being posted in october.

we’ll be accepting the first 15 requests you send, so get on that real quick ;)

your hair keeps blowing into my face and its annoying but I don’t want to stop talking to you (DRACO MALFOY)

can you please help me carry this pumpkin to my apartment it’s like three times my size (CASTIEL)

i laid down on a pile of leaves without realising your dog was in there

im sorry but i just don’t understand why you had to throw your toffee apple at me (PETER PARKER)

im not usually scared of things like this but you keep screaming and making me jump and its embarrassing for gods sake (NEVILLE)

im sure this is like the fifth Halloween party you’ve had why am i never invited

i can’t believe i got stuck in a lift with you, a recovering coulrophobic, dressed as a clown (SAM WINCHESTER)

emergency? it’s not like there’s a troll in the dungeon, is it? (GENDRY)

i dressed down in this slutty catwoman outfit for you and my party boob keeps escaping why did i do this (VERONICA LODGE)

october ain’t october until someone gets their head stuck in a pumpkin (SIRIUS BLACK)

i can’t come in until you invite me, you should know that by now

no, you’re not allowed to float here

you’d think a stab to the neck would kill me but im still here im afraid (BERIC DONDARRION)

sometimes people drink too much on Halloween. this is one of those times (BUCKY BARNES)

your nose is redder than mine are you ok

why does everyone get sick this time of year? im sicker than you are man up

oh pumpkin spice you make me so happy

my favourite thing about autumn is your mittens (BUCKY BARNES)

honestly i want to throw you in the bonfire right now (JON SNOW)

some hairy men have times of the months too (awoo)

oh, this isn’t a costume, it’s my natural state of being (DRACO MALFOY)

something freaky this way comes

my mom locked me out and its getting cold these days can i crash on your couch (BUCKY BARNES)

you look like a drowned cat but i think you’re attractive (PERCIVAL GRAVES)

excuse me but the bobble fell off your hat and i think you might want it back

also these actually came out of archie’s own brain let’s take a moment to appreciate that and tag us if you decide to use one for your own material :)

[southsidesweetpea]

oh my god i just remembered a dream i had last night

it was about Sweet Pea and how he got his name, and the reason was because when he was a kid his mom had always sung him a lullaby with the words “Sweet Pea” in it, and it was like her pet name for him. and then she died, and i guess he kept the name because it reminded him of her and oh my god this is the plot of Baby Driver isn’t it

sdfghfv well regardless of that, my subconscious supplied me with this spectacularly angsty headcanon and im gonna go with it. also i looked up songs with “Sweet Pea” in them and i’ve decided the version his mom sang him was “Sweet Pea” by Amos Lee. it’s soft and cute and would work excellently as a lullaby. 

now i challenge u to listen to this lovely cover of the song and not imagine Baby Sweet Pea’s mother coming home after a long day and singing this while she tucks him into bed:

oh no i wrote a thing

a few more thoughts: 

Sweet Pea was always close with his mom. he never really knew much about his dad aside from his name and the fact that he was in the army. even though he wasn’t around his mom still said he was a good man and that he loved Sweet Pea very much. she gave Sweet Pea his dog tags once - tarnished metal that clinked heavily in his hands - and he found that wearing them made him feel safe somehow. after that he never really took them off.

so it was just the two of them. they didn’t have much, but they made do. his mom was only a teenager when he was born and never finished high school, so she worked two, sometimes three jobs just to make ends meet. but she never blamed him, and if she was ever sad or angry about how her life turned out she never showed it. (when he remembers her now he always pictures her tired, a little bit frazzled, but smiling). 

his favourite memories are the nights they’d go to the Southside Pic-a-Flic, rent a movie and splurge on candy. they’d come back to their tiny basement suite apartment and snuggle up under a blanket in front of the TV, laugh until they cried and eat until their stomachs were sore. 

she always called him Sweet Pea, since before he could remember. kept calling him that too, even as he got older and started rolling his eyes when she said it. she stopped after a while, and even though that was what he’d wanted it still made him feel guilty.

when she got sick, they didn’t have enough to pay for the bills. he remembers feeling crushed by just how unfair it all was - she kept working as long as she could, but eventually it just wasn’t an option. not like her meagre wages were enough to keep the mountain of debt from climbing, anyways. 

it felt like the whole world was rigged against them, and Sweet Pea still remembers the anger he felt whenever he walked past the rows of beautiful, rich houses encroaching on the South Side. how could they go about their lives like nothing was wrong when only a stone’s throw away his mother was dying? 

she got sicker, and he wished she’d call him Sweet Pea again just like she used to, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask. it felt stupid now. 

near the end, she got farther away. when she was awake she got confused, so Sweet Pea sang to her, the same song she’d always sung to him when she tucked him in. well, tried to sing - he felt awkward and self-conscious when he did, but it was worth it, because even on the worst days it always made her smile. 

then she was finally gone, and Sweet Pea was alone. really alone. 

they put him in foster care, and on the first night in his new home two older boys stalked up to him with their arms crossed and mean, wary looks on their faces. but that was just the way that people looked at each other on the South Side at first, before they got to know you, so Sweet Pea looked mean right back at them. 

“What’s your name?” one boy asked him. he had a snake tattoo on his forearm, and he smiled when he saw Sweet Pea looking. 

“Sweet Pea,” Sweet Pea said, squaring his shoulders and jutting out his jaw and just daring them to laugh. 

but they didn’t. they didn’t even flinch. the first boy nodded and held out a hand, and Sweet Pea took it. 

“I’m Joaquin,” the boy said, “and you better stick with us if you wanna make it out of here alive.”

[marlaluster]

emptying clipboard

Richard Tangard​​ Richard Tangard​​ Asked my to tag you in my mind. I talk to people there, so. LH6 n LMIRL -- OMG! Gotta use these! https://scontent.fztf1-1.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-0/cp0/e15/q65/s600x600/18581828_10210023688694398_7364661521259470263_n.jpg?efg=eyJpIjoidCJ9&oh=9a6f3cc10ee3127454deedbab4ead122&oe=599F7063 "I can't keep letting stuff load where im really less. But i can't say that either," the devil said about mr seeing something i just shared to my page didn't show up. It was this post, a version of it as it was as a post on someone's page, Kris Harris . This post ..... https://scontent.fztf1-1.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-0/cp0/e15/q65/s600x600/18581828_10210023688694398_7364661521259470263_n.jpg?efg=eyJpIjoidCJ9&oh=9a6f3cc10ee3127454deedbab4ead122&oe=599F7063 It seems one other post i posted yesterday didn't show up here, it seems it would've been the last post on the page. "I could've taken something else. I have to stop that though. Can you not post this. Bye," the devil said. Then another thing that happened was earlier the devil was making Facebook not load/come up when i was trying to go team some really just unbelievable n sicko thing it was doing to try to make it seem i was to be seen as crazy n be treated per the sicko society's arrangements for something it was trying to make occur very strangely n sickly. I tried writing about what was happening on Tumblr instead. I'll put a link to it, the post I wrote. It does concern one item or occurrence that is kinda gross n the devil was making it seem sicker. Thats very bad w your eyes. The devil threatens a lot to make my eyes look bad in the area like pictured here. Aging is not really real. But very weird n coincidental this is also come up as something for you to post on. Maybe not a coincidence. A cliche response, what people are supposed to say. Youth n young people are worshiped here in a sick way, ie to make others less than. It's very sick here, not a good life. Deformities, diseases, poverty, racism, very sick place. Weird to have frivolous concerns n focus as if it's okay here n not severe issues to acknowledge or take into account. Music going again from the neighbors. Loud noise from the base in the music. "It's not. So I have to tell you I'm not doing okay that people are noticing that," the devil said. It was talking about that it is now more to the surface n just okay that things are so less than here. More to the surface in the awareness is what is meant there by me. But I went to the store you get some chips a minute ago, i ate some crumbs of some chips my sister had n decided to get some more from the store. It wasn't really a such casual n okay tone to things as might seem yo be suggested. The neighbors music going n of course just the usual that it's sicko here n crazy since its devil world n further devil world exposed n the devil fighting to continue it. "I have to go because I'm not allowed to do that but whatever the person is doing is embarassing," the devil said about me saying something stuff I'm saying here n the last couple of things I've written on Facebook specifically. But I went to the store n it was more in the air it was dumb as fuck n less than here. "It was because of what she was wearing right. No. It's because I have to go. That made it worse. Marla wasn't dressed okay," the devil said. But anyway that was tormenting the devil was acting like it was okay it's out as less here n acting like it can continue. I said it wasn't like that before. "It wasn't. I am tormenting about your eyes now. Do you want to leave because I must go," the devil said. Some people are saying stuff in my mind about the eyes issue being a thing for people to post on n that being something. "It means I can't say the person isn't the center of the universe," the devil said. The devil is making my eye feel like it's just having some more eye bag issues by the second. So dumb, that thing is so stupid. The music continues from the neighbors. Yeah people should have space. That's not really valued here. Kris had mentioned this ayuhausca thing. So I thought he'd find this interesting. No pressure, maybe the way of the world will discontinue that hurts people. The only real thing to address or try to attain anyway, so. Everything else is really just hurt n pain. Paycheck to paycheck = hurt n pain but it's preferred people are not having all the advantages over others or are so prepared n set n others not, so you not having a retirement seemed not exactly such bad bad news. People supposedly being or appearing to be so set n okay in a system of hurt n pain that is outwardly this/painful to some/yourself is tormenting to others, actually. Very unfortunate way of things. Really should end. There are movements n such to end the money system, maybe they'll pan out. I'm trying to end the world by outing the devil as ruling it, of course. No money. Aren't You priceless. Thats my bid. Just heard this one the radio so i looked it up. The lyrics made me think of a post I saw today by Brandon Marshall Havener, it said jealousy n insecurity were okay. It gives way to things we wish to say however we feel is something okay, ie is what it is or whatever, you can examine, etc n love yourself, which is pretty much what Brandon said. This is the video, not that it is really great or that I really like it. I like the song. Videos a lot of times aren't really your favorite part of about the song. This is a i guess so so video (for devil world) but I like certain things i say here, so I'm not such a fan of the video really. What an interesting observation, Vincent Smith​​. I wonder what the US heraldry is. https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/5b/Greater_coat_of_arms_of_the_United_States.svg/270px-Greater_coat_of_arms_of_the_United_States.svg.png There's some weird olden times talk of work n poverty in tjis thread. I'd need to do some decoding to figure it out. #theydcallmeschizophrenic #humansgoingdeepcoveroutdis #whatchutalkinbout #thisisntelectionplatformsorpoliticomagazinediscussionorisit #dontmakenokindasense #whatthe #therealdumbkidsinclass Instead of decoding, I've got this for you, boys: If you're going to try to rule someone's life--. Eh hem, let me start again: If you're going to try to offer some kind of living arrangement for people's way of life, it out to be something good n generous n kind n well meaning. Otherwise, go sit down n mind your own business like a less than black person not participating in anything. Please. Please stop offering horrible things for a horrible world. MACEO - GO SIT DOWN: http://youtu.be/M7MXnSrnpEY My comments here (they were removed, the first two n i put them back. The devil had removed them. "I don't know what to do. I don't wish to do this Marla but I have to go for those comments," the devil said.: There's some weird olden times talk of work n poverty in tjis thread. I'd need to do some decoding to figure it out. #theydcallmeschizophrenic #humansgoingdeepcoveroutdis #whatchutalkinbout #thisisntelectionplatformsorpoliticomagazinediscussionorisit #dontmakenokindasense #whatthe #therealdumbkidsinclass ------ Instead of decoding, I've got this for you, boys: If you're going to try to rule someone's life--. Eh hem, let me start again: If you're going to try to offer some kind of living arrangement for people's way of life, it out to be something good n generous n kind n well meaning. Otherwise, go sit down n mind your own business like a less than black person not participating in anything. Please. Please stop offering horrible things for a horrible world. --------- MACEO - GO SIT DOWN: http://youtu.be/M7MXnSrnpEY --------- https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/5b/Greater_coat_of_arms_of_the_United_States.svg/270px-Greater_coat_of_arms_of_the_United_States.svg.png "... Those comments say something that is not possible here about the ....," something reality, the devil said something about the comments why it removed something.