#just yell at me if you want me to stop tagging you

[kneazle]

More of the tsunami fic! Probably the weakest part (in my opinion) but I believe we're coming to a close with this soon maybe one more part? 😊 again thank you to everyone whose shown this love, I appreciate it more than you can imagine 💕

Tags are under the cut but let me know if you want to be removed! (hopefully I didn't miss any of you that wanted to be added!)

part 1 • part 2

Tommy breathed heavily, cold seeping into his bones while his skin broke out in a sweat. It was an odd feeling, and one that didn't bode well for him. 

He didn't know how long passed since he lifted them onto the platform. His leg throbbed when there wasn't pain shooting up it, but he could do no more than he already had at the moment, having used his plaid button-up to stop himself from bleeding out like he was. There's no telling if it would hold, but it was something until he could get Jee to safety.

Tommy glanced down at where she was curled into his side and his heart clenched.

He looked up to the sky and closed his eyes for a brief moment. 

Please just let her be okay, please

The air was tense in the engine on the way to the pier. Worried glances were thrown his and Chimney's way but Buck avoided meeting those gazes.

They were on their way back from a quick call when it came in about the tsunami, everyone holding their breaths at the thought of another one. Buck felt their eyes on him and had grinned sadly, a weak joke about at least he wasn't there this time but not fully meaning it as another tsunami meant people hurt, lives lost. 

Until Chimney made a strangled noise from his seat. Choking out that Jee was at the pier with Tommy. That Tommy volunteered to watch her when Maddie got called in for a shift and their normal babysitter couldn't, and was planning on taking her there.

Buck's chest felt empty and constricting at the same time as Chimney spoke on the phone with Maddie for a few seconds. His worry burrowing inside, steadily growing at the sound of their voices. He didn't say a word but shared a look with Chim– yet what right did he have when this was their child? Bile rose in his throat that he pushed down, hands clenching. Jee and Tommy were god knows where and in what state, but Buck would do anything to trade places with them at this moment.

"Uncle Tommy Uncle Tommy!"

Tommy's eyes shot open, blinking rapidly at Jee's shouting and shoves. Fuck. He internally cursed at himself for not staying focused, having felt drowsy– no doubt an infection but there was no time to think more on it.

"Look!" 

He sucked in a breath. A boy of about seven or eight was coming their way yelling and crying for help, holding onto a board that was barely keeping him afloat. Tommy saw this little boy with soaked curls, wet black glasses that slid down his nose– and Tommy turned to Jee, "Stay right there Jee don't move!" He told her quickly.

Tommy jumped back into the water and grunted against the pain as he swam out enough, grabbing for the boy as soon as he was in reach. 

He didn't hesitate to cling to Tommy who held the young boy to him. "I got you buddy, I got you, hang on alright?"

Relief slammed into him so hard when they were all on the platform and Jee didn't move an inch, that Tommy let a tear escape mixing with the wetness of the water. Fear clawed its way in his chest.

"Thank you!" The boy coughed out, body giving a big shiver as his lower lip trembled.

"What's your name kid?" Tommy asked softly. "I'm Tommy and this is my best buddy Jee."

He rubbed at his nose, wiping water from his eyes. "D-Danny."

"Alright Danny, can I know who you came here with?" 

"My b-big brother, he- he got pulled away." Danny whimpered, and Tommy could have cried the way Jee scooted closer, her little hand coming to hold Danny's slightly bigger one.

Tommy wrapped two terrified children in his hold, trying to stay awake and focused on them and not the feeling of his body fighting for sleep with the piercing throbbing pain spreading through him.

Fear wasn't new to him– but this was an entirely new kind of fear he realized.

@not-as-straight-as-i-appear @todd-harper @klutzygirl @eliotwaughdeservesbetter @bidisasterevankinard @comfortingevanbuckley @laundryandtaxesworld @tommykinard @sherlockismarvelous9-1-1 @mmso-notlikethat @iphyslitterator @racerchix21 @a-mel0n @station18908 @beckym2001 @bi-bi-buckleys @loulou-land @tommykinard6 @beanarie @fuselsstuff @chococara25 @owlgirl495 @thestrangestthlng @buckleyskinards @nznaturalkiwi @daughterofscotland @livelaughlou @hyperfocusthusly @teabroomsandbooks @thecarrott @tistai

[rowanisawriter]

No don't take a vow of silence you're so sexy ahah

if my tongue was nailed to the top of my mouth i would stil find a way to talk dw

[adumbratrapedme]

Suna x reader | teen pregnancy. pt 1 the news.

Synopsis. a teen pregnancy storie between suna and a reader.

wc. idk | genre. angst to fluff |cw/tags. angst to fluff, teen pregnancy mentions, etc. reader is the twins younger sistah

teen pregnancy series masterlist here!

General headcanons

╭⋅First. You are the miya's younger sister... and somehow you ended in this fwb relationship with suna... their best friend... ╭⋅Once you tell him the reason why you avoided him Suna gets hitted with a mix of shock, guilt, and confusion. ╭⋅He replays every conversation you’ve had in his mind, especially the ones where he pushed you away emotionally. The realization that you might have been going through this alone eats at him. ╭⋅Despite his initial shock, Suna finds himself wanting to take responsibility. He starts showing up at your house under the guise of “visiting Atsumu and Osamu” but sneaks moments to check on you. ╭⋅When the twins eventually discover the truth (that suna is the dad), all hell breaks loose. Atsumu is furious, yelling at Suna for “ruining” their sister’s life, while Osamu takes a quieter but no less intimidating approach, asking Suna how he plans to fix things. ╭⋅After their initial shock they never let Suna or you live it down. Every family dinner comes with a new round of jokes, like Osamu calling Suna “Dadtarō” or Atsumu making fake baby crying noises whenever Suna walks in. ╭⋅There's going to be moments where Suna feels like he’s not enough for you, and you wonder if you made a mistake trusting him. ╭⋅Despite this you guys aren't "oficially" dating (for now mahwhawah)

Suna Rintarō never intended to get too close to Miya Y/N. She was Atsumu and Osamu’s younger sister—off-limits, complicated, and, most importantly, a distraction. Or at least, that’s what he told himself. They were just friends with benefits, nothing more. He’d even told her as much, keeping things casual and detached.

But lately, Y/N had been distant. She stopped texting him late at night, stopped meeting him in the usual places, and, most confusingly, she stopped even looking at him in the hallway. At first, he told himself it didn’t matter. If she wanted to stop, she’d stop. But as days turned into weeks, Suna couldn’t ignore the hollow feeling in his chest every time he passed her and she turned away, tears glistening in her eyes.

Everything came to a head during volleyball practice when Atsumu and Osamu’s voices carried across the gym.

“She’s been crying nonstop,” Atsumu muttered, frustration clear in his tone. “I don’t get it. She won’t tell us what’s wrong.”

“Maybe it’s school stress?” Osamu offered, but even he sounded doubtful. “I haven’t seen her eat much either. She’s been holed up in her room.”

After practice, Suna cornered Y/N outside the school gates. She flinched when she saw him, her hand instinctively resting on her stomach.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” he demanded, his voice sharper than he intended.

Her eyes filled with tears, and she bit her lip, trying to keep them from falling. “You told me this wasn’t serious,” she whispered. “You said you didn’t want anything more, why are you here?"

“I—” Suna faltered. He had said that. But now, seeing her so broken, he wasn’t sure if he’d meant it.

“it's none of your business rintaro” she said, her voice cracking. “Bye.” she said running away.

For the first time in his life, Suna Rintarō was speechless.

A few days later during lunch break Suna sat with the Miya twins, half-listening to their usual banter as he picked at his food. The conversation shifted when Atsumu let out a frustrated sigh.

“Y/n's been acting weird lately,” Atsumu grumbled, shoving a piece of rice into his mouth.

Suna’s hand paused mid-air, chopsticks hovering over his bento. He forced himself to look disinterested, even though his chest tightened.

“What do you mean?” Suna asked, keeping his tone casual.

“She’s pregnant,” Atsumu said bluntly, earning a glare from Osamu.

“Oi, don’t just say it like that!” Osamu snapped. “But yeah. She told us a few days ago.”

Suna’s heart dropped. He stared at his food, trying to keep his expression neutral, but his hand tightened around his chopsticks.

“Do you know who the guy is?” Suna asked, hating how his voice sounded strained.

The twins shook their heads.

“No clue,” Atsumu admitted, scowling. “She won’t say. But when I find out who the bastard is, he’s dead.”

“Real dead,” Osamu agreed, his tone cold. “Leaving her to deal with it on her own? Coward.”

Suna swallowed hard, his throat dry.

“She’s been crying a lot,” Atsumu muttered, his anger fading into something softer. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like this. She’s holed up in her room all the time, barely eats... It’s hard to watch, y’know?”

Osamu nodded. “I don’t know what we’re supposed to do to help. We’re her brothers, but she won’t talk to us.”

Suna’s chest ached. The image of Y/N crying alone, carrying the weight of this all by herself, was too much. He thought back to the last time they’d been together, the way she’d looked at him like she wanted to say something but stopped herself.

“Maybe she just needs time,” Suna said quietly, barely able to meet their eyes.

Suna couldn’t focus during practice. The twins’ words echoed in his head, and every spike he missed earned him a sharp glare from Coach. Afterwards, instead of heading home, he waited near the school gates, hoping Y/N would pass by.

When she finally appeared, her eyes widened at the sight of him. She looked tired—dark circles under her eyes, her shoulders hunched like the weight of the world rested on them.

“Y/N,” Suna called, stepping toward her.

She froze, her hand instinctively resting on her stomach. “What do you want?”

He hesitated, his usual calm demeanor crumbling. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” she asked, her voice shaking.

“You’re pregnant,” he said, his voice low. “Why didn’t you tell me it was mine?”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she shook her head. “Because you said you didn’t want anything serious,” she whispered. “I thought you’d hate me if I told you.”

Suna felt like the air had been knocked out of him. He’d been so focused on keeping his distance, so afraid of letting her get too close, that he hadn’t realized how much damage he’d done.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice soft, “I'm an idiot. I... I never meant to hurt you. But please, let me help.”

She hesitated, searching his face for sincerity. “I don’t know if I can trust you,” she admitted.

Suna nodded, accepting her words. “That’s fair. But I’ll prove it to you. I’m not going anywhere.”

EXTRA;

It was a Saturday evening, and the Miya household was unusually quiet. Atsumu and Osamu sat in the living room, bickering over who had eaten the last onigiri from the fridge. Y/N sat nervously on the couch, glancing at Suna, who stood by the door like he was ready to bolt at any second.

“Are ya gonna tell us why you dragged us all here?” Atsumu asked, leaning back and tossing a pillow at Osamu, who caught it without looking.

“Yeah, if this is about Y/N, just spit it out already,” Osamu added, his tone sharper. “We’ve been worried sick, y’know.”

Y/N fidgeted with the hem of her hoodie, her heart pounding. Suna, sensing her hesitation, cleared his throat.

“It’s about the baby,” Suna started, his usual calm façade cracking as the twins’ attention snapped to him.

Atsumu narrowed his eyes. “What about it?”

Suna glanced at Y/N, silently asking for permission. She nodded, her face pale. “It’s mine,” Suna said bluntly, his voice steady but his hands stuffed into his pockets to hide his nervousness.

The room went silent. Too silent.

Then—

“WHAT?!” Atsumu exploded, jumping to his feet. “Yer kiddin’, right? This is some kinda joke, yeah? A sick joke! Osamu, tell me he’s joking!”

Osamu blinked, his usual calm demeanor slipping as he processed the bombshell. “Wait... you’re the one who—” He pointed at Suna, then at Y/N, then back at Suna, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“Calm down,” Suna said, raising his hands defensively. “I’m serious. I’m the father.”

“You?” Atsumu screeched. “Of all people, you?!” He looked genuinely offended, like Suna being the father was a personal insult.

“Oi, what’s that supposed to mean?” Suna deadpanned, his eyebrow twitching.

“It means yer a lazy, sneaky little punk who can’t even take volleyball practice or relationships seriously half the time!” Atsumu shot back.

Osamu finally snapped out of his daze, leaning forward with a smirk. “Hold on. Does this mean you two were... y’know...”

Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Don’t say it, Osamu.”

“Together,” Osamu finished, drawing out the word with a mischievous grin.

Atsumu gagged dramatically. “Gross. I don’t wanna think about that!”

“None of us do,” Y/N muttered, her face burning.

Suna rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “Look, I’m here now, okay? I’m taking responsibility. You can yell at me all you want, but I’m not going anywhere.”

The twins exchanged a look, their expressions unreadable.

Finally, Osamu shrugged. “Well, at least he’s owning up to it.”

“Yeah, but it’s Suna,” Atsumu whined. “Our little sister deserves better than that!”

“Oi,” Suna muttered, annoyed.

“Shut it, Rintarō. We’re not done with you,” Atsumu said, jabbing a finger in his direction. “If ya mess this up—if ya hurt her even a little—I swear, I’ll make ya regret it.”

Osamu nodded in agreement. “We know where you live.”

Suna sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Overprotective big brothers and all that.”

Y/N finally looked up, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the tension. “Guys... thank you. For caring. But I can handle this. And Suna’s... here.”

“here,” Atsumu muttered under his breath. “That’s the bare minimum, but fine. For now.”

Osamu stood up, patting Suna on the shoulder with a little too much force. “Welcome to the family, I guess. Don’t screw it up.”

Suna gave him a flat look. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Yer lucky she likes ya,” Atsumu grumbled, collapsing back onto the couch. “I still don’t get it, though. What does she see in ya?”

“Guess I’m just irresistible,” Suna deadpanned, earning a pillow to the face.

TAGLIST:

@chilichopsticks @dreadnoughtus101 @starykari @staygoldsquatchling02 @alpha-mommy69

if you want to be part of the taglist you can always DM me or coment! <3 tysm for ur support guysehehrbe

ngl y'all im having a hard time when making the first part for every character cuz i dont want to be repetitive on "oh you guys are a couple, sex, bAM BABY" or "you guys are friens with benefits, BAM, SEX, BABY!" yk?? so huh yeah-

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Wash Day

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none

Paring: Paige Bueckers x fem reader

Fandom: Women's basketball

Summary: Letting Paige help you with your hair.... call in reinforcement.... right now

Tag: @starlighttsv

It was wash day, and I was already regretting not starting earlier. The coils of my hair were stretched and dry, practically begging for some love. As I sat cross-legged on the floor of Paige’s dorm, surrounded by products—conditioners, leave-ins, oils, and detangling brushes—I sighed. Paige stood above me, hands on her hips, looking at the scene with mild panic.

“Babe,” Paige started, crouching down to my level. “I love you, but I don’t think I’m qualified for this.”

I gave her a tired smile. “You said you wanted to help.”

“I did! I do!” she quickly corrected. “But this… this looks like a full-time job. Are you sure I can’t call in backup?”

I rolled my eyes, pulling the spray bottle closer. “I’ve got it. Just—pass me the wide-tooth comb.”

Paige did as I asked but couldn’t resist adding, “If things go south, I’m calling Kayla. Or Azzi. Maybe even Ice. Someone who actually knows what they’re doing.”

“I’m right here, you know,” I teased, spraying water onto a section of my hair.

---

Twenty minutes in, Paige had convinced me to let her detangle a section. Big mistake.

“Okay, so… I just start at the ends, right?”

“Yes, *gently*,” I reminded her, wincing as she yanked a little too hard.

“Sorry! Sorry! This stuff is like a jungle!”

I smacked her arm playfully. “It’s not *stuff,* it’s my hair. And you’re supposed to be helping, not clowning.”

She grinned sheepishly, then held up her phone. “Alright, I’m calling Kayla.”

“Paige, no—”

“Too late!” she interrupted, already FaceTiming her.

Kayla’s face popped up on the screen, and she immediately burst into laughter. “Oh my God, what is happening over there?”

“I tried to help with wash day,” Paige admitted, flipping the camera to show the mess surrounding us. “And I think I’m failing.”

Kayla shook her head, laughing. “Yeah, no. I’m coming over. You need professional help.”

“Bring snacks!” Paige added.

---

About fifteen minutes later, Kayla showed up with not just snacks but KK and Azzi in tow. Ice and Aubrey were close behind, and it was clear they had *all* come to clown Paige.

KK was the loudest, pulling out her phone the moment she walked in. “Y’all, look at this!” she said, going live on Instagram. “Paige tried to help her girlfriend with wash day and almost ruined the whole operation!”

“KK, stop!” Paige yelled, trying to grab the phone.

“Too late,” KK said, laughing as the comments rolled in.

Azzi sat beside me on the floor, inspecting my hair with an approving nod. “You’re doing great, by the way. Paige, not so much.”

“Azzi!” Paige groaned, while Kayla pushed her to the side and got to work.

---

With Kayla leading the charge, the atmosphere turned into a mini hair care seminar. Azzi and Kayla worked on sectioning and detangling, while Ice handed them products like she was the hairdresser’s assistant. Aubrey and KK were still making jokes in the background, much to Paige’s frustration.

“See, you have to take smaller sections,” Kayla explained, showing Paige how to work through my coils without yanking.

Paige nodded solemnly. “Smaller sections. Got it.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at how seriously she was taking the lesson now. “You’re really invested in this, huh?”

“Of course I am,” she said, leaning down to kiss my forehead. “If I’m going to help you, I want to do it right.”

KK made a gagging noise from the corner. “Y’all are so soft, it’s disgusting.”

“Hush, KK,” Kayla said, throwing a hair tie at her.

---

By the time we were done, my hair was clean, detangled, and styled in chunky twists. I felt lighter, and the soreness in my scalp was worth it. Paige sat beside me, looking proud of herself despite not doing much.

“So, how’d I do?” she asked, grinning.

“Honestly?” I teased. “You’re better as moral support.”

“Rude,” she replied, pulling me into her lap. “But fair.”

“Next time,” Kayla said, packing up the hair products, “just call me first. It’ll save everyone some time.”

“Noted,” Paige said, stealing one of the snacks Kayla had brought.

---

Later that night, as Paige and I cuddled on the couch, she played with one of the twists in my hair.

“I really do want to learn, you know,” she said softly.

I looked up at her, my heart melting. “I know. And I appreciate it.”

“Even if KK clowns me for the rest of my life?”

“Especially then,” I replied, kissing her cheek.

She smiled, pulling me closer. “Good. Because I’m not giving up.”

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[n0vation]

Are you ugly? Quite the opposite. Salesman x reader

ㄨSUMMARY:Getting caught spying is probably the worst she could imagine, expect when the worst is looking down at her, wanting to play Russian Roulette .

ㄨ╰┈➤ˎˊ˗PAIRING: Salesman x fem!reader / Smut / Dark Content

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ TAGS/WARNINGS: kidnapping,sadism, blood/brief gore, blood kink, noncon/dubcon, sizekink?,manipulation, power imbalance, top!salesman x bottom!reader, p in v, choking, creampie.

══✿═══✿════✿════╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞════✿════✿════✿══

"Such a bounty on that man. That's weird. He doesn't look like this type of guy." You thought walking through the streets of Seoul.

4 zeros , no, 5 zeros, you don't even remember who much money will you win if you get information about him. Better, if you get him. But damn you're not a fighter, you just need to learn more about him and lure him to let his guard down before you become millionaire.

Now you were waiting on a corner counting the seconds.

3 , 2 ,1

The tall man came from a luxurious taxi, entering a bakery. He watches the bread, bending his head, his fuckass weird smile sticked on his face. How can someone be so creepy?

"Do not lose him, do not lose him.."

Your prayers seem to have been heard as your taxi catches up with his and arrives in a park. The scent of the grass tickling your nose before the smell of sweat and pee caught you. Homeless. The filth of society. The bottom of the hierarchy.

"I gave you a chance, and you made your choice. I'm not the one who threw these away. It's you, ladies and gentlemen!" He yelled, before stomping the breads in front of their shocked faces. His expression distorted by a deep hatred toward them. Costume readjusted and hair arranged, it seems like he never lashed out.

What is that? Are you feeling bad for them? Do you wanna go help them?

Oh, please! You're not different! If he had handed you a bit of money, you would have done way worse. Since when was your mind so corrupted? Empathy is a primary feeling, yet your brain could only tell you to catch up with the salesman. Your money.

You followed discreetly your jackpot.That, until he stops in the middle of a narrow street. You took some seconds to realize the situation before attempting to hide. Unsuccessfully. He grabs a good hold of your hair and pulls you toward him.

Silly you, nobody stop in the middle of a street unless it's for someone else. And you thought you could break free? He yanks you on his chest, feeling the hard features of his toned torso before sliding down his arm under your chin and locking your head. You feel his muscles clenching, pressing dangerously on your wind pipe, bringing you close to failing into Morpheus arms.

You grabbed your hidden knife, attempting to slice the arm choking you, but he caught you on the spot. "Too bad", you heard coming from him before feeling your eyelids getting heavier.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌

Ropes digging through your sore arms and smoke of luxurious cigarette greets you while you regain consciousness. Classical music in the background matching the expensive furniture of the room.

Woke up, bakery, gross homeless, the salesman , ̸̠͕̮̔͆̍͋́̐͆͝/̴͍͖̲̄̅̏͆̀̇̊͝\̴̢̞̬̥̣͔̈́͂̈́̐̊̚͝/̶̯͔̝̘̥͚̼̹̪̟̬̬̀́̂͝͠ͅ\̵̡̛̛̳̥̱̱͑̾̾̆́͛̓͋̓̔̈|̶̱̙̜̲̩̲͇̜̭̹̯̬̰̌̎͊͝|̴̛̯̯̼̯͋̈͗̾͆̅/̶̩̫͖̻͓̪̣͊/̸̢̹̾̆͌̒́́͠\̸̓̒̃̈́̈́̿̒̋̏͂́̉̏̕͝��|̴̢̯̲̱̗̤̖̠͈͒̋̇̿̾̆̇̔̀͘͠/̸̧̢̻͉̣̪̭͈͔̄͂́̈̃͂͑̓̍̾͑̓/̷̠͖̙̜͔̺̹̜͈̟̼̅̋̀͋̿̈̏̕͝ͅͅ\̷̙͈̥́̏̚|̶̙͇͇̜͂̃͑̐̈́̇̑\̵͙̭͓̩̣̯͉̏̎̎̕|̸͙̯̠̘̪̲̤̱͎̜̖͈̜́̉͜ͅ\̷̢̭̻̱̝̹̞̗̻͔̏͒͆|̵̨̖̣͗̃.

Then black out.

"You don't greet me?" He asks, bending to meet your eyes. How could you while your mouth was stuffed of whatever he tied around it.

"So? Are you a secret admirer or a spy?" He asks holding eyes contact with you. His features as soft and angelic as you saw them from far.

"Spy since you were armed." He stands, straight using his full height to look down at you.You watch him walk around the chair you were tied to.

"So that what they thought was my type? You were gathering information about me to get closer easier, right?" You feel his fingers grazes over your neck from behind. Going all the way up to mess with your hair. His touch was soft and apprehensive, almost romantic if you haven't noticed the gun on his other hand before.

"You're shy? You don't answer. Or maybe you're not confident enough to answer." He slides down the fabric over your mouth. Your cheeks meet with the cold barrel of the gun. Thrills spreads all the way down your neck upon hearing him shush you. The threat clear and understood.

"So, are you ugly?"

Sadistic and psychopathic traits, that was for sure. Overconfident and proud. The best answer was to show you're not scared and defy him.Maybe you could surpass him and gain respect.

"Quite the opposite" You said, your voice shaking a bit at the end , betraying your confident tone. He chuckled, his fingers resting over your head.

Then he pulled harshly your head back, put the gun under your chin as he bent over you, meeting your gaze.

"I like you. You're entertaining. I wanna play with you." He utters before sitting in front of you, flicking that annoying smirk.

Rich looking table, cigarette next to the ashtray and lighter, shiny cups of alcohol accompanying an expensive bottle. You could see your reflection on the glass table: marks all over your neck.

Your attention goes back to the man, humming the music.

"What about Russian Roulette? I will gladly risk my life along yours." He leans on the table, showing you the empty gun before filling it with one bullet.He then slaps it, making the cylinder roll and get in its place. The sound of the metal awaken your sense, and fasten your breath.

"He can't be serious. What if he dies? Yet..he has already done silly games with homless before.." You thought, your mind racing and survival instinct kicking in.

He then aims slowly at your head, his smiles widening.

"No reaction?" You were just frozen by fear. He leans over the table, his hand grabbing your wrist to lift it up, considering how the rope were only around your upper arms. You try to move away, but he only pouts, waving the gun.

"I wouldn't do that." He states firmly. He places the canon of the gun on the back of your hand ,counting to three.

"Hope you're lucky!" He said before firing the first shoot. You felt a horrible pain spreading into your hand as blood splashed both of your faces. You screamed at the combination of the pain and the sight of your right hand: your knuckles spreads apart by the hole formed of the shredded flesh and skin that was supposed to hold the pairs of fingers together.You cry at the blood flooding watching your tendons move grossly with the clenching of your exposed muscles ,dropping more blood at each movement like a sponge.

He let go off your hand, watching intensely your face contortion, making your tears roll messily on it. He paid attention to your moans of pain and shaky hand movements, terrifying for you and almost pornographic for him at how much he liked it.

"Unlucky I guess" He said, fascinated by your face.

"My turn." He says before faking taking a deep breath and aiming at his hand.She had already lost.He was safe.

He opens the cylinder again and fill it up one more time.

"Round two." He says, trying to catch your attention.You were too focused on the blood coming from your hand. He sighed before grabbing the fabric he used over your mouth and wrap it around it, clearly annoyed.

"I said Round two." He orders started to get angry. You meet his gaze once again, clearer now that it wasn't filled with tears.

Uneven eyes.

He smiles sadistically, playing with the aim of the gun. Forehead, neck, chest, stomach, tighs. He stops on the gun on it, smiling happily. He leans toward you, giving you a made-on-purpose sight through his blouse.

"Pray, you're unlucky" He mumbled , holding a laugh as he stays close, watching your widened eyes.He fires again, bullet piercing through your left thigh as you yelled.

He laughed watching you squirm, attempting something to stop the blood. He keeps laughing as he unties his black tie. You would have called it hot if you were emptyingfrom your blood. Drowning in your tears, you watch him raise your bleeding thighs to slide his tie under it. His fingers pressing the disgusting fat soft flesh close to the wound, making you wince. He then suddenly ties a knot on it, pulling a last scream from your throat. And stopping the bleeding.

"My turn." He says before leaning back on his seat and manspread aiming the gun on his inner thigh. He smiles psychotically before firing nothing.

"I won the two rounds." He states like nothing.

"Last roun-" He doesn't finish his sentence as you jump on him, attempting to grab his gun. He looks on the table startled at how could you break free.

The lighter is missing. And the faint scent of burned rope finally reach his nostrils.

"Fucking bitch-" He slurs as you catch the gun and pull it toward you difficulty with your exploded hand. He stumbles back on his chair, making both of you land on the overturned chair.You grip firmly on it, your life hanging on a thread. He crushes your hands under his and managed to be the one aiming it. Both of you roll over, ending up on him over you, pressing the gun firmly on the ground.You tried to yank it to you, but it just ends up in the weapon being thrown far from both of you. You felt something burn in your rib cage, feeling the hope running low and adrenaline mixing to fear. You roll under him, on your knees ,before dashing toward the gun.

"One last round." He said as he catches your ankles. If only the bullet in your thighs didn't stopped you from dashing further. His eyes squinting, distorted by the pleasure he took in watching the waves of despair over your face. You were laying flat ,held by his large hands.

He kept you there for a moment, feeling your small limbs shaking and eyes blurring as adrenaline ran away from you. Oh dear ,if you knew how much that aroused him. Having the upper hand over.

He then suddenly grabbed your wounded hand, throwing away the poor fabric over it before intertwining your bloody fingers with his. He leaded that right hand toward your left shoulder, letting his arm bend you down to arch and head look at him over you.

" How romantic." He mutters, pressing your fingers, parting your parted in half hand. You scream of pain, feeling the skin pulled apart as well as your fingers. That's when you looked at his face, a sadistic grin spread wide over it.

Uneven eyes.

"Let's do a more special round for you." He said appreciating how the sight of your back bend painfully turned him on as much as your warm blood trickling down his hand.

" If you cum before me, you're eliminated. And if you don't ..." He pauses, thinking of the best way to reward you. " I will patch you up"

You pleaded, begged, implored him not to. He just shushed you as he pulled your pants down, ignoring your cute attempts at squirming away.

After freeing his cock, he admired the sight. Bent back, bloody, pain all over your body.

"Cute" He muttered before placing himself between your legs and pushing his tip slowly in your small body. He kept quiet, hearing your sounds complementing the opera in the back. His two fav sounds, cello and pleadings coming from a broken voice.

He yanked your chest more, making your head rest back. He smiles at your reddened eyes and shaky lips. He pressed his fingers more,extracting a poor moan of you as he started moving. He filled you so deep, you felt like he was gonna tear you down one more time.

"Please, please" You repeated as all he did was watch your eye's reaction to him pushing a deep thrust in you, extracting a louder please. He laughs at your face, going back to his slow and romantic rhythm.

"Told you you were entertaining. You're so expressive, a gift from whoever hired you" He started pounding harder in you, watching your head move slightly every time he bottomed you.He bent toward you, admiring your fucked up eyes.He slowed down, watching relief regain your eyes . He then shoved forcefully, breaking that look on your face and making your chest jumps. Another forceful shove and that insatiable look on his face, appreciating your eyes widening and loud breathing of yours.

Again, no, this time he stops half way, watching your face stops half way too. He breaks in laughing loudly, throbbing in you so bad, feeling the hardest he has ever been in so long. He loved how a simple romantic move as pressing lightly your tangled fingers could get you to cry, giving you pleasure would destroy that hope in your eyes and how getting closer to you felt like hell for your back.

He then picked up a rough pace, his own breath getting louder than your moans.He looks straight into you, straight into your soul.

"You have pretty eyes." You started to struggle to keep your eyes open, feeling your lungs unable to give you the oxygen you needed. If only his biceps wasn't pressing on your breast. You move your shaky but free hand to push his lower away from you.

"No, no. None of us have lost yet." He states before giving you messier thrusts. If you listened carefully , you could hear his deep voice each time he hit that spot deep down who made your eyes cross. He pressed your chest more, starting to make you cough at the lack of oxygen.

" I-I give up...You won..." You managed to say without thinking of the consequences. All you could focus on was how good it felt each time he was deep into that spot. How his other hand on your waist was so fucking rough yet so fucking good. How full and pleasured you ever felt while he was corrupting your mind.

Was it the lack of air that fucked your brain or how good he fucked you that messed with your brain?

"Then you have to cum. Or you want me to make you? That's why you wanna get eliminated?" He says, looking straight into your eyes. Do you want him to? This question echoed in your brain, altering your way of thinking as much as the pleasure that stacked up into you.

"I ... Dunno..." You managed to say as your eyes rolled back, your body going limb. You passed away! That, until a harsh slap lands into your face, waking you up. That's for sure. The feeling of pain through your body soothed by the pleasure into your stretched inside greeted you with your tormentor handsome smile.

Uneven eyes.

"Wake up sweetie. I haven't lost yet." He said, slowing down his movements, feeling about to bust.

"Imma take your answer as a yes." He says, before cutting your breath again and picking up in pace and precision, hitting that spot again. Before you faint again due to the blood loose and choking ,he let goes of your hand.He watches your top fall heavily to the front, grabbing a painful hold in your head and shoving your face on the expensive carpet. He pounds in you, making you reach your climax as you stopped fighting, letting the pleasure sooth the pain.He thrust last deep shoves before filling you up.

He admires you're fucked up being as he pulled out, not restraining you anymore. Why? You were so sore. He was just admiring you again.

"I guess it's time to process to the elimination."

[xmads-omensx]

PART 2

Word Count: 1,764

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Reader

Content Warnings: swearing, fake dating, enemies to lovers, mentions of sex

Tags: @shayeanna-ashlie @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @supersquirrel1996 @dontwantthemoney @tosoundlessdarkistare @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @klutzy-kay24 @heyyoplayer @lacy1986 @collidewiththesav @kenjipepsi1 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @chey-h @thisbicc @fadingangelwisp @heyyoplayer @dsireland86 @missduffsblog @overmydeadbodysblog @dominuslunae @littlebear423 @blade-dressed-in-red @rumoured-whispers @kait16xo @eclipseeetop @xxkittenkissesxx @theanarchymuse95 @blackveilomens @lilgarbitch @lil-garbitch

Tour had been going relatively smoothly, if we ignore the obvious.

From an outside perspective, it looked like Noah and I were an old married couple. Constantly bickering, never happy, always pissed at eachother.

Which is exactly what we were.

This whole fake dating business was proving to be becoming increasingly more difficult as the tour continued.

Much to Noah and I’s dismay, Alex was very interested in getting to know the rest of the band and crew and had been asking everybody questions about Noah and I’s relationship.

Before tour started, we had all hung out as a group in order to debrief on the details of mine and Noah’s relationship. How we had met, how long we had been together, what our first date was, that kind of thing.

Since Noah and I couldn’t look at eachother without wanting to tear each other’s heads off, the details were mostly left up to the rest of the group.

Matt had decided that we met through work, which was true.

Nicholas had decided that our first date was at a local coffee shop near one of the venues on tour.

Jolly and Folio were more interested in our hypothetical sex life. They came up with our wildest sex stories “just in case anyone asked” which was alarming to listen to. Especially when they went into very graphic detail about positions and their frame-by-frame retelling of these hypothetical scenarios.

Noah was completely repulsed and had stood up to leave the room, presumably to head back up to his bedroom.

Luckily for us, nobody had asked those kinds of questions, so we never had to go through at painful experience every again.

We had, however, been asked about how we met and things like that, so being prepared wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

Alex had been put in charge of booking the hotel rooms so that we could take something off of Matt’s plate, and obviously he had booked for Noah and I to share a room at every single stop. Every. Single. One.

Noah hated it just as much as I did and that was about the only thing that the two of us could agree on.

When tour started, wed had to make a conscious effort to act like a couple. Going from sitting on opposite sides of the sofa, to next to eachother was a challenge, and having to cuddle up together due to the lack of space was even more difficult.

Sometimes, I felt him begin to relax beside me, pulling my body closer to his. But the majority of the time, his body was stiff and rigid, which was probably more uncomfortable for him than it was for me.

We argued constantly about who was in the way, who was taking up more space, who snored louder, the list went on and on and on until Matt snapped.

“Fucking quit it you two!” He had yelled in the hallway of the hotel as we retreated to our rooms after the sixth show of the tour. “Save it for when tour ends so the rest of us don’t have to deal with it.”

The rest of the guys nodded in agreement before heading to their respective rooms. Alana even shot me an apologetic glance as she followed Josh into their own room, leaving Noah and I alone in the hallway. The air around us crackled with energy as we stared at eachother.

“You just had to go and make that much of a fuss didn’t you? You cant fucking help yourself.” Noah scoffed, shaking his head angrily.

I took our room key from my back pocket and swiped it across the door handle, waiting for the click telling us that the door was unlocked.

The room was silent, but the tension from the hallway remained.

Noah huffed from behind me, before retreating into the bathroom. I could hear the shower turn on and Noah’s clothes hit the floor with a soft thud.

I walked over to my side of the bed and sat down with a sigh.

This tour was rapidly becoming the most exhausting tour that I had ever been involved in since starting working for Bad Omens.

Trying to keep up the persona of Noah’s girlfriend, whilst working for him was incredibly difficult without Noah’s constant nagging, but with it was unbearable.

The sound of the water from inside the bathroom provided the perfect white noise as I lay back on the bed and closed my eyes before drifting off to sleep.

It was the only time that I was able to seek the peace that I so desperately craved.

Then the water cut off.

The bathroom door opened, steam drifting into the main bedroom as Noah walked in wearing only a white hotel towel wrapped around his toned waist.

My eyes were barely open as I watched him walk towards his suitcase and pull out a clean pair of boxers.

I couldn’t deny the weight of my eyelids anymore, so I allowed them to flutter closed and send me back off to sleep.

The bed dipped beside me as Noah climbed into bed, pulling the covers over himself before pulling them out from underneath me and wrapping them around my much smaller frame.

Warm hands travelled up the back of my shirt, making me flinch slightly as the clasp of my bra came undone, spindly fingers pulling the straps down my shoulders from beneath my t-shirt.

I wriggled my bra the rest of the way off, leaving me in my shirt, jeans and socks.

Those same hands made their way to the front of my jeans, unbuttoning them before pulling them down my legs and pulling my socks off.

I heard them land on the floor with a soft thud.

Noah didn’t say anything as he came back up and placed his head on the pillow beside mine, wriggling around to get himself comfortable.

It wasn’t abnormal for neither of us to speak when we returned to our room as we were often both too tired to argue with eachother.

I remained curled up in the same position, in a state between sleep and consciousness, whilst Noah was struggling to get comfortable beside me.

“Quit it.” I mumbled quietly, becoming frustrated by his harsh, jerking movements.

He stilled, sighing, before settling on sleeping on his side, facing my back.

Sleep claimed me relatively quickly afterwards, or at least I thought it had.

Those warm hands crept their way up my sides once again. I couldn’t tell if I was awake or dreaming.

Those hands travelled across to my stomach, with heavy arms coming to rest on my hips. A warm back pressing against my own.

Too tired to move away from him, I snuggled back into the chest and arms that now engulfed me.

“Stop wriggling.” I tired voice murmured from behind me, making me giggle. He laughed quietly.

“Sorry.” I whispered back.

I could feel Noah’s face inch closer to the back of my neck. His nose nudging at my hair, moving it to one side before placing a chaste kiss on the back of my neck, making me shudder.

“What are you doing?” I whispered groggily.

“Shhh… I’m getting comfortable.” Noah mumbled.

“But you’ve never done this before.” I replied quietly.

“Fine.” He snapped, pulling away from my body completely, leaving me cold.

“No.” I said louder than I had intended, reaching to grab his arm and pull it back around me, but he was much too strong, even in his half asleep state and resisted my feeble attempt with ease.

“Y/N I’m doing what you asked.” He snapped.

“That’s not what I meant. I was just curious.” I replied.

“Go to sleep.” He replied, angrily flipping to lie on his opposite side, now facing away from me.

I lay on my back, staring up at the ceiling for what felt like an eternity, unable to fall back asleep.

Without thinking, I rolled over, now facing Noah’s broad back, his Jesus tattoo staring at me as I reached up and wrapped my arm around his waist.

He flinched before grabbing my hand in his own and lacing our fingers together.

Butterflies erupted in my stomach at the contact. We had never been this close before.

“Noah.”  I whispered.

“Shh…” He replied.

“I need to ask you something.” I pushed.

“What?” He whispered back, sleep lacing his voice.

“Why do you hate me?” I asked in a hushed voice.

He didn’t reply for a moment.

“I don’t hate you, Y/N.” He whispered in answer.

“But I thought you did.” I mumbled.

“I don’t. Now go to sleep.” He said.

I closed my eyes, still unable to go to sleep. Instead, I began gently tracing circles on his hand that was intertwined with mine with my thumb, hoping that the motion would be enough to make me sleepy, but it didn’t help.

Noah huffed loudly, sounding frustrated, before flipping over to face me, releasing my hand and using his own to grab my waist and pull me impossibly close to him.

“I don’t hate you.” Noah started, staring right into my eyes with his own chocolate brown eyes. “I could never hate you. I pushed you away because I’m scared. No, fuck that, I’m terrified. I’m terrified because if I tell you how I really feel, you’ll push me away and never want to see me, or work with Bad Omens again, which would suck because you’re amazing at your job.”

“I- I- I don’t understand.” I whispered back.

“This might help.” Noah said defiantly before removing his hand from my waist and cupping my cheek, pulling me closer and placing his soft lips against my own.

It didn’t register what was happening in my brain until I felt his tongue swipe my bottom lip, making me moan. He slipped his tongue into my mouth, claiming me before pulling away.

“I pushed you away because I am a massive fucking idiot who is massively fucking in love with you.” Noah whispered, his face only millimetres away from my own.

I didn’t know how to respond.

Reaching up, I traced my finger against his soft cheek before placing a light peck on his soft lips.

I pulled back to see a soft smile on his face.

Instead of speaking, I snuggled closer to him, nestling my head beneath his chin and drifting off into the best night sleep that I had had in a very long time.

And waking up to Noah’s sleepy, soft smile was even better.

[sealbee101]

quizmas…a little treat…gift to everyone and me……

dividers r by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more!!! theyre so cool!!!!!

merry christmas!!! i hope your extra holly and jolly!!!! and I hope the big red guy gives you awesome presents!!

[gemini-queen42]

Batb: Other Than Human - Themes stuff (& why I Called It That)

That's right folks, the self-indulgent "throwing any concept I like at the wall and haphazardly mixing together what sticks" au rewrite Thing has Actual Themes! That kind of happened accidentally but they are so real for that so let's get into it.

The Main Narratives Themes Trio of the story now all also embody expanded themes about being an "Other", when being a person is not enough to be properly considered human- more specifically of a neurodivergent/queer girlhood type flavor.

Summary is that it's called "Other Than Human" because the prominent theming is about being considered something other than human due to not fitting the mold of the 'norm'.

[This is a long one so details & specific character stuff are under the cut<3]

Amalure has the greatest departure from her original counterparts thematic placing, so we'll start with her. Amalure retains Gaston's social standing, reputation, etc. But it's of course not quite the same- because she is a woman, and she is not revered for being the picture of ideal womanhood/femininity. Instead, she excels in masculinity, but remains firm that she is and always will be a woman. So, to justify the desire & awe people have for her, they dehumanize her: She doesn't need to follow the Rules because she is outside of them. Amalure is not a person: she is a symbol, a figure, an object. A legend, a folksong, a modern myth. Her skills are not skills they are blessings, inherent, a mundane magic or supernatural. Despite having grown up in Villeneuve for her entire life, she is considered exotic, and is practically, if not actually, fetishized. And through all of this, the status quo and social order gets to be retained without question, and she gets to exist as the exception that proves the rule, rather than the Undesirable that she'd be marked as otherwise.

Amalure is fine with this, because this dehumanization is her status quo: She doesn't really view herself as a person either, she is defined by her relationship to other people, by who she is to them. Amalure has never been a person to anybody: Growing up she was never just a girl, never just Amalure: She was a girl with a mans brain, an embodiment of her fathers greatest achievements, an embodiment of her mothers worst mistakes, she is her fathers daughter or her mothers daughter, but not her own. (and she never both, it is either or, mother or father, never both, never parents.)

Princess Eve/The Beast is the other end of this, of operating through her dehumanization. Upon being cursed, she adheres to what societies have oft wanted to happen to their Undesirables: Hide away and never be seen by the public again. It is entirely self-inflicted, as most of her suffering truly is. She operates not through others dehumanizing view of her, but her dehumanizing view of herself and its warping of how she believes others view her. Because, well, the servants still view her as a person. I mean, they're still human- under the new object forms. And the separation of humanity that is easy to slip into on matters of royalty is awfully minimal as well; they watched her grow up, and she grew up among them.

The girl's bratty, spoiled, temperamental, and is a ball of horrid consequences of the shallow views and ideals learned from surrounding nobility. But she's also the girl that fell asleep listening to Cogsworth explain the many technicalities to managing servants; because she was stubborn in asserting her authority as the mistress of the castle, and thus she Must have say over its goings ons. But the majordomo's voice can be awfully soothing when he's not high-strung on anxiety, and it's hard to pay attention when you don't understand what's being discussed, so its all going in one ear and out the other. And She's Lumiere's 'Evie', who was so amused when Lumiere would draw on a little mustache when dancing the male roles so the princess could learn some duo dances, or because she didn't look very "waiter-like" (because Eve wasn't entirely sure what a maître d' did, but it seemed to have something to do with waiters), and who got annoyed every time the dance teacher/maître d' would warn her not to hurt her body in her pursuits, because it seemed so silly, why would anyone do that? And she's the girl who dragged Mrs. Potts to have tea with her, because she made the best tea and as princess she would have only the best; and if you're going to have tea you may as well have a tea party, and you can't really have a party of one, but two isn't much of a party either so she's going to drag Babette away from her duties too, since the maid was so elegant and thus would be perfect.

Honestly, the girl probably would've turned out fine if she was raised by just the servants. But they weren't the only forces in her life: she's a princess, so she's got to host and interact with important people and learn how to Be noble which isn't something any of the servants can teach her. And it is under the pressures and eyes of nobility, is in mixing and learning their social rules, that learns the lessons that will lead to her curse: That to be considered human and treated as such, one must look human. And to be such as a woman meant to look beautiful, like the ideal. As a woman, to be worthy is to be beautiful and vice versa. And even if she does not, she must have some way to serve men. Otherwise, she is nothing. Eve met these requirements well, and where she did not yet her authority as princess covered. So when a beggar woman is at her doorstep, the princess turns her away: because she is old, ugly, so long past her 'prime'- there is no worth to her anymore. There is no point caring for her future.

Helene stands as both the middle ground and inverse to the other two. She is an Other by virtue of her mind, she is Objectifiable by virtue of her beauty. She sits on the precipice between Undesirable and Desired, seeming nearly apathetic to where she lands despite popular encouragement to embrace or smother aspects of herself. Helene is quite sure she's a person like anyone else, thank you, and is frankly frustrated and a bit weirded out that others seem to have a hard time getting the memo- she doesn't like or want to assume the worst, though, so maybe she just missed another confusing untold social rule or something. I mean, the local triplets really do seem to be advising in good faith- they really do think of her as one of them to an extent (for reasons Helene is yet to know); they just don't understand her.

When Amalure pursues her, there's an unspoken aspect to the deal of marriage she proposes: Helene will get a secured place on the in of the community, a secure standing the promises people no longer questioning or trying to encourage her to no longer be herself. But Helene just isn't interested in Amalure like that, and she also sees what the real trade-off of that security is; that uncomfortable dehumanization that is exactly what Helene doesn't want to deal with anymore. If Amalure is fine living with it than she is free to do as she pleases, but the huntress doesn't seem to understand what Helene could possibly have a problem with- and it's not like they can discuss it, because it's unspoken, and you're not supposed to speak the unspoken things, because they're unspoken for a reason- even if you don't know what that reason is. Helene knows that rule, at least.

When Helene meets the Beast, she regards her as she does any other. It's plain as day that the Beast has a humanity to her, whether she's really "human" or not- she thinks and she feels, and that's enough for Helene.

Because Helene grew up raised by a single dad who she got most of her brain workings from, and he is a man of compassion and science. Off he'd send his beloved daughter to go and question and figure out the world for herself, to experiment and learn and become whatever she desires. Off to bed he'd send her to tell her fairy tales and have their lessons of love and compassion and humanity understood as she drifted off to sleep. Helene was never Odd with her father, never Other, in fact they were so easily two of a kind. It was so jarring, hearing people imply Tyndare less than sane; his logic paths were so easy to follow- but apparently his voice gruffs enough that others have a hard time understanding what he's saying sometimes, so that's where things seem to get lost in translation she guesses. People became jarring in other ways as she grew up too, because suddenly there seemed to be lots of social things she was supposed to know or be but didn't and wasn't, and it became very apparent very quickly that she was an Other among her village.

Overall: Eve & Helene get to go through these themes through the main plot, and post curse-breaking is when Eve gets to properly deal with the internalized issues and whatnot. Like she's learned beauty doesn't matter when it comes to love, and shouldn't decide whether or not someone should be cared about, and Helene loves her despite her having been beastly and despite her being a failure of a woman- (because she no longer fits the feminine ideal after the curse is broken, and frankly she never will again.) But she's still a Failure Of A Woman and Helene deserves Better Than That! So there's still work to do.

Amalure remains static on this aspect of the narrative until after the battle at the castle, where she does survive! .. barely. and it's later, in an argument with her mother that same night, bleeding out on the kitchen floor, when she asserts that she's her daughter too, not just her fathers. she has always been her daughter, always will be, she is the daughter of both of them, because that's not something that just switches or turns on and off- and it's an entire rant that I will not recite here, but the important part is the assertion that she is, always has been, always will be, the daughter of both her parents at once- that's the first little step for her arc of recognizing her own individual personhood and whatnot.

[moeblob]

Deacon loves two things: Ymber and digging himself a grave.

Fulj hates one thing: Deacon.

[autisticlee]

sometimes people who struggle like to make jokes or find positives about their condition that causes them to struggle so they can escape the constant negative and struggle. sometimes autistic people will say things like "the 'tism" or use the "autism creature" or say their autism helped them have a *positive trait* to feel better about their struggles. because living your life only focusing on the struggles and negatives is depressing and makes it hard to want to live, even if those struggle take up 100% of your life and you can't actually escape them. sometimes any little seemingly positive thing can help a lot.

but there's so many other autistic people that hate when we do that and call it "reducing autism to a cute trendy thing" and say it takes away from *their* struggles and is bad and shouldn't be used. maybe *you* want to only focus on your struggles, but some people can't live in constant negative and need some positive or to find ways to make their condition more positive so they can feel better about living with their struggles. life is hard. I take anything I can get.

I cant get jobs. I can't make and keep friends. I can't get help and support for doing "normal" things so sometimes I go weeks without being able to shower and without eating more than a bowl of cereal a day. most times can't even do things I like. struggle to communicate. have meltdowns. i'll never be able to live independently. I struggle a lot. but instead of sitting here always depressed and having no motivation to live, i'd rather try to joke about "my 'tism is acting up again" when i'm struggling (just an example. don't think I ever actually used the 'tism thing but i saw others use it) or say "i'm just being a creature" when I need to stay in my dark room because everything is too much and I personally find it cute to be a little creature meant in a positive way. i'm not actually downplaying mine or anyone else's struggles. I still acknowledge them and that silly jokes dont make them go away. i'm not trying to be trendy. i'm not doing any of the things people say we do by making silly little jokes. i'm using the silly little jokes to convince myself life can be a little more than pointless, painful garbage all the time.

(continue in tags)

[nymphoutofwater]

getting ready for a party im hosting tomorrow and i feel like im forgetting something. oh i know!!! accidentally starting tumblr discourse bc i was curious about other people’s social norms!!! what should I ask this time?

[ff2-soda-pop]

youtube for some inexplicable reason keeps suggesting videos to me about whether sonic 3 or mufasa will be the bigger hit at the box office and I'm not gonna watch the videos but also like. I really hope it's sonic-

[the-good-ol-art-corner]

Remind me to draw more Papyrus stuff in regards to driving because. WOW I'VE HAD A FUCKING DAY AND I NEED HIM TO SWEAR AND SCREAM AND HAVE MURDEROUS INTENT IN HIS EYESSSSSSS

[bluestjayy]

Maybe I'm just cursed 🤪

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

the sensible part of my brain is like maybe I should fess up to my doctor at the appointment tomorrow and the part of my brain that got me into this mess in the first place is like no absolutely cannot do that until it's got bad enough it should have got stitches again (but unless I hit a vein I am not going to get stitches)

[amatres]

gonna be honest, while she is a wonderfully played character, i do not like karna as a person at all lol. usually i love morally grey characters but i think im too attached to amangeaux to appreciate karna's character. like the scene where amangeaux had to beg karna on her knees just to be able to flee for her life with her child made my skin crawl and was probably the final nail in the coffin for me

and that on top of karna without remorse offering up amangeaux's child's life, which she didn't even have conformation was the heir to vegetania, and then her speech of getting 'drops of recognition' from amangeaux for 'her own protection and happiness' i had no sympathy for her after everything she did. it felt like she was getting mad at a woman she was trying to take advantage of who decided to prioritize herself and her year old child, who karna just agreed to kill

like yes, theres the political standing difference between them, but by that time amangeaux had no political safety and was discarded by her allies, and only a few hours ago in the game's universe was it proven by their own actions how even with supposed political advantage means nothing anything anyway and just

her careless 'im damned to rot so i have no care what suffering i put people through to get to my goal' just rubs me the wrong way along with everything else

this is no hate towards aabria, she's playing the character wonderfully and every move she makes makes sense for the character she has made, it's just karna makes me so inherently uncomfortable