#like when u can feel ur legs stretching and ur bones growing

[cubbihue]

What are a lot of the main consequences for a kid becoming a fairy? And does Timmy ever miss his bio parents or his human friends?

Aside from his inability to visit the Human Realm? There are Eight Major Consequences to becoming a Fairy. At least, 8 that Timmy has discovered.

The first major consequence are Magic Adjustments. Human Children's small bodies need to handle at least a Pixies' worth of magic output. Slow prolonged exposure to Fairyworld is matched with an increase in consumed Magic.

This is not an issue for Fairies, born and raised within Fairyworld, but for outsiders its a lot like an itch you cannot scratch. An irritation that won't go away until the transformation's complete, or the body adjusts in full.

Timmy used to deal with frequent painful growths in his magic. He finds that exploding objects with his magic helps alleviate the pain somewhat. Or doing one of Jorgen's harsher military courses.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[beelsbignaturals]

💀DEMON FORMS: SATAN🔥

AN: for some reason I am incapable of seeing Satan in a romantic light so I hope all the Satan kissers are at least a little satisfied. I tried my best. If you like this and want to see my Levi and General Demon Form Headcanons, check out the obey me world building tag. 💚💚💚 also thank u michi for helping w the trigger warnings ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Inspiration for this part: @waltnut and like the one pic from @breakfastwiththedamned of him with all the fire n stuff

TWs: Body horror, mild injury, DEATHLY SKINNY, skeletal body, demons looking demonic, SIR THOSE R UR BONES, skeletons, burn mention.

First, in general, Satan had the hardest time learning to control his form. He's really good at it now, though!! He's right up there with Mammon and Lucifer in terms of self control.

● 1.5 Satan is weirdly hot to the touch. It feels like touching a hot stove. Ouch. His teeth are actually pretty tame compared to, say, Levi. Four fangs in his upper jaw, two on each side. The rest of his teeth are like. Uncomfortably straight. A dentist would cry tears of joy. One might say they are…. Like a military cemetery (ref) Overall, 1.5 Satan isn't really that wacky. His bones are a lot more prominent, though. And being around him is enough to make you irritable. You will stub your toe and suddenly want to fight God.

Satan, completely engrossed in his book, had no sweet clue he was about to trip down a flight of stairs. You, being an upstanding citizen, grab his arm to pull the demon back. Bad idea. Hissing in pain, you pull your hand back, bewildered because you didn't expect to be burned of all things! Satan apologizes for unintentionally scalding your hand, but.. it technically is your own fault. Protip: Don't do good deeds in hell.

● Level 2. In-game demon form plus add some snazzy hooves, and also His Bones Glow. Could be mistaken for a radium girl because of the eerie green light emitting from his body at all times. It's worse in the dark. This man is a GLOWSTICK. His teeth get sharper, and his nails grow into long curved claws. Also, his tail is made of vertebrae. He has a habit of dragging it slowly along the floor when he's deep in thought. Makes a very creepy clack-clack-clack sound.

The power had gone out while you were in your room. When you tiptoe out into the dark, the last thing you thought you would see was Satan, standing there looking like he is being lit up from within. Startled, you jump what feels like ten feet in the air, but in reality, it is only a few inches. Satan lets out a combination of a death rattle and a laugh.

● Level 3. His skin is extremely sunken in. You can see each and every bone and joint. His arms and legs are disproportionately long, and he has to hunch over to get through doorways. If you touch his skin in this form, you will need medical attention for the severe burns. His eyes are black, sunken-in pits. Though sometimes in the dark, you can see a faint green light. Every movement he makes causes his bones to make the aforementioned clacking sound. When Satan is especially pissed off, green smoke and fire billows out of his mouth, nose, and eye sockets.

A strange noise can be heard throughout the house as you struggle to breathe through the smoke. Satan had gotten mad because a prank against Lucifer failed miserably, causing the curse to backfire onto himself. Now, there is a tall, skeletal blonde who can not stop hiccuping. Each spasm of his demonic diaphragm sends fire spewing from every orifice. It's not until you manage to make it into the room, coughing profusely, and remind him of your cat cafe date that he begins to calm down.

● Level 4. He grows taller the more angry he is. 40 foot home depot skeleton who?! All his bones are black, blending seamlessly with his horns. The skin has a grayish tint and is stretched so thin in some places that it's translucent. His bones glow brighter based on how angry he is. Basically, he's a giant glowing skeleton. His body temperature is so high that if he touches anything flammable…. Grab some marshmallows. Satan is real reason the library of Alexandria burnt down. Someone bumped into him and... the rest is history. I don't have much else to say about it. Big grumpy skeleton. 

The second the fire alarms go off, everyone panics. The fire alarms at RAD are enchanted, so only real emergencies can set it off. You barely have time to push your way through the door when a giant skeletal hand breaks through the window. Wait a damn minute... you know that eerie green glow... you somehow manage to fight your way through the crowd of screaming demons and succubi. Carefully, you step over the broken glass, peeking your head out the window. "Satan?" You call out softly. "Wanna talk about it?" A giant obsidian skeleton that towers over the school looks down at you, the flames dancing in the empty eye sockets dim ever so slightly. You count that as a win. The air is suffocating its so hot, and anyone in their right mind would be running for their lives. Good thing you aren't in your right mind. You sit on a desk as the Avatar of Wrath shrinks about a foot in size. He still has to crouch to be eye level with the window. But you can tell he appreciates the offer from the way Satan is paying extra attention to make sure his breathing doesn't roast you alive. How sweet.

[seriouslysnape]

To the Limit

__

Severus Snape x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Slight smut. Use of safeword. Language.

Request: Hi! Can u make Severus × Reader when the reader use the safe words for the first time because idk maybe it's too much for the reader that day or smth else you like..Thankyouu 💕💕 love ur writings btw ❤❤

A/N: Here we gooooooo. Reminder, everything is consensual.

Word Count: 2,947

“Okay, darling. Whatever you want.”

__

Severus has always been flexible in the bedroom. Yes, Severus Snape is versatile in the sheets and has more love making skills than you originally would’ve given him credit for. Sex with Severus can range anywhere from slow and careful where praising your body is his main objective, to fucking you so mercilessly that stars are dotting the back of your eyelids with each hard thrust.

Sometimes, you don’t have to establish what kind of theme your sessions will take on. If Severus comes home angry from a long, obnoxious day then you very well know that a rough fucking will get it out of his system. When you’ve just watched one of your favorite romantic drama Muggle movies that have sent you into tears, he knows that something more unhurried is in order so you are reminded of how much he loves you.

Other times though, there isn’t really anything that determines the kind of sex you’ll be having. If the mood is right for both of you, then you often will just figure it out from there. 

Severus’ return on Friday night from a long week of classes was coated with his desire for you. You could practically feel the hard sexual tension radiating off of his whole being. From the moment he walked in the door, you knew what tonight would hold for the both of you. More than likely, it’d be a whole lot of rutted fucking and orgasms until neither of you had any stamina left to give. Normally, a seed of excitement would be planted and begin to grow in your core at the thought of being touched by him, but you didn’t feel it this time. 

It had been a bad week to put it simply. Work was weighing you down and you had taken more hits than you were used to in a five day time period. Exhaustion had riddled you, and stress has gotten the best of you. Emotional breakdown was the only way you could describe how you were feeling. You really weren’t feeling up to what Severus wanted to do. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him when his hands and lips were on you, moving to all his favorite places on you.

His voice was silky smooth in your ears as he uplifted you with how he had been thinking about you all day, and how he wanted to be with you when you weren’t around. It wasn’t Severus’ fault that you had a bad week, and it surely wasn’t all his fault that he was this turned on. The way he gripped your legs with his strong hands was an indicator that he wanted to go well into the night, which your tired state wasn’t a fan of. But you loved Severus, and you always wanted him to be happy and well pleased. So you figured you could handle a couple of coarse rounds to satisfy him.

Oh, how wrong you were.

Once access was granted, Severus leapt onto you without hesitation. A tornado of clothes being removed whirled around the room, your shirt and pants ended up on complete opposite sides of the room. Hot and unruly kisses were shared, marks were left on your necks, and no part of you went unattended. 

Admittedly, the first orgasm was actually enjoyable. Severus’ fingers were knuckle deep in your needy cunt and pumping vigorously as he found all the best spots. The strenuous activity melted some of the week’s stress from your conscience, your mind being stripped of all your worry as it clouded with ecstasy. Severus thrived off of the moans and noises of delight that he was drawing out of your throat, perfecting his movements to give you an even stronger release. Severus worked you to your finish as you came around his fingers, slicking them with arousal and relief. 

He left lazy kisses over your breasts while you took a moment to recover, preparing yourself for the next round that was undoubtedly on its way. Tiredness had plagued you long before Severus had even walked through the door, and you had suddenly been robbed of even more energy, so you were confident that you might not get a proper orgasm this second time. But the moment Severus slid you onto his dick and stretched your walls the way only he knew how to, you knew that you were going to cum whether you felt like you could handle it or not.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. You loved seeing Severus so enraptured in waves of pleasure and gratification, but you were beyond fatigued. Still, you bounced up and down on his lap over and over again, your already sensitive clit throbbing with each rub of his fingers. Severus’ other hand guided your hip movements to meet the way he thrusted up into you, hitting your g-spot just right.

When you came this time, your sound of release was more of a strained cry than a content sound. Severus didn’t seem to notice, since he was too focused on the intoxicating feeling of filling you with his own finish. You popped off of him before he was even emptied out, the rest of his fluids landing on your inner thighs. You fell onto the bed next to him, your breathing much heavier than usual. 

You were totally tuckered out with absolutely no hope of another round. Your muscles ached and your bones were wiped out. Although, you felt a queasy feeling of despair when you saw that familiar look of lust in Severus’ eyes. He spoke lowly, his voice echoing in your ringing ears.

“I’m not through with you yet, love.” He purred.

Usually that would’ve sent a whole mess of arousal through you, but you were too worn out. But Severus usually didn’t last more than three rounds, so this would for sure be the last one. You thought you could push through so he could at least get his release, but this third go round wasn’t a good feeling for you at all.

With your arms above your head and the pillowcase below your head in your fingers’ death grip, you turned your head to the side to fight through his persistent hard fucking into you. On a better day, you’d be all over this and relishing every moment. But now your eyes were screwed tightly shut in discomfort, for each time you opened them Severus would only be able to see the whites of your eyes. The thumping heartbeat in your ears was deafening and your entire body was stiff and rigid, but not in a good way. You wanted to tough it out so at least Severus could finish, but it was just too much for you tonight. 

You had to tap out.

“Polyjuice!” You squeaked out, your voice raspy.

In an instant, you saw any expression of lust wiped straight from his face. He pulled out the millisecond that the word registered in his head, his face stricken with worry and concern at the first time use of your agreed safe word. Severus’ heart dropped at your whimpers of displeasure, his brain reeling and raking over what had gone wrong. 

“[Y/N], what’s wrong? What happened?” He asked frantically.

“I-I just...”

Shaky breaths and uncomfortable whines were the only noises you could seem to make. You sat up from where you were laying down, bringing your knees to your chest and hiding your face as you began to cry. Your emotions were all over the place, and it didn’t help that you were overstimulated and overworked. Severus went to pull you to him, but withdrew his hand. Upsetting you further would absolutely crush him, but he needed to know that you were okay.

“Can I touch you, darling?” He whispered out.

The yowl of approval was enough for him to feel fine with carefully wrapping his hand under your arm and dragging you across the mattress to where he was kneeling on the middle of the bed. He pulled the covers over your skin to keep you from getting cold from the loss of heat from being active. You buried your head into his bare chest, your tears leaking and falling down his skin. 

“I’m sorry, Sev. I’m really sorry.” You sobbed, your hair sticking to your sweaty skin.

“No, no, no. Don’t ever be sorry for telling me to stop when you’re not comfortable,” He reassured; “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” 

The shake of your head brought relief upon him, but he was still worried. He rocked you in his arms until your sobs died down enough to where you were coherent. Severus was getting ready to ask you once more what was wrong, shifting you so he could see your face. When moving you, his hand accidentally brushed against your swollen, sensitive clit and you wailed out pathetically. Severus’ pale face went even whiter.

“Oh, my love...I worked you too hard, didn’t I?” He queried.

Severus would always admit that sometimes he’d get into the zone and completely drown everything else out. He wouldn’t really be able to tell how hard he was pulling in and out. It was rare, but from time to time you’d have to ask him to soften his thrusts or slow his pace when he got too rowdy. But you had never asked him to stop completely until now. He feared that he had seriously pushed you over the edge this time.

“It’s not just that.” You confessed with a sniff.

Severus had drawn your head back to gaze into your bleary eyes. The tear tracks being swiped away with his thumbs as he cradled your face. 

“What is it then, sweetheart?” He asked with wonder.

A fresh set of salty tears pooled and fell down your cheeks, but for a different reason.

“I’ve had a horrible week. Nothing has gone right,” You explained croakily; “I wanted to make you feel good and I thought it might make me feel better...but I’m just exhausted and I couldn’t handle it tonight.”

You fell apart into another set of choking sobs and gut wrenching cries, prompting Severus to bring you back into his chest. He stroked your skin and left kisses so light that they were ghostly. 

“It’s alright, angel. I wish you had told me before that you weren’t feeling up to it,” He consoled; “You’re worth so much more than sex. I want you to tell me sooner next time if you’re uncomfortable.”

Your nod of understanding offered a wash of comfort over him that you were calming down steadily. He hated that this happened. He knew that was the whole reason for your established safe word for when things went south or things got dicey. He just never thought you’d ever have to use it. He felt absolutely terrible. 

“I’m sorry, Sevvy. I really wanted you to get off, I just-”

“Please don’t apologize for this. This is my fault. I should’ve seen how tired you were and how I was being overly hard,” He said; “I’m the one that should be sorry.”

The sniffles from your nose had increased as you tried to flush down all the drainage from your crying. Your tears had stopped as you sat up from his body, wiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand. The red blotches in your puffy eyes were pinging at Severus’ already guilty conscience. He saw the littered hickeys across your neck and breasts, and how your lips were swollen from his severe kisses. He had rocked your burnt out body to the max.

“I’ll tell you what. How about we go get cleaned up, and then we can get into bed. Then you can tell me about your week if so wish.” He suggested, cautiously guiding you off of the bed.

“I think I just want to get a bath and get some sleep.” You said, barely able to stand on your wobbly legs.

“Okay, darling. Whatever you want.” He smiled softly, hoping it’d offer you some kind of solace. 

Severus ran you a hot bath, filling it with all of your favorite scents and smells. Your stance was still despite your shaking legs, and you seemed to be staring off into an endless trance. You slipped into the tub when it was ready, sinking down just below your nose under the bubbles. Normally, Severus would be sitting across from you or you’d be snuggled up on his lap, but he wanted you to have some space for a bit. You were honestly too tired to object. 

He simply casted a charm to freshen himself up, finding and selecting his favorite pair of sweatpants and soft shirt for you to change into. Your eyes were closed, and you had just begun to drift off to sleep when he re-entered the bathroom, changed into some casual day time wear, despite how late it was.

“Here are some clean clothes for you, pretty girl.” He remarked, setting the folded sweats and shirt on the end of the tub for you to get when you got out.

You only gave a light nod as a response, your eyes following him as he stood awkwardly. He was unsure of what to do for you now. He thought that you might want the bedroom to yourself for the night, which was fine because he wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing he had pushed you so hard anyway. He placed himself on the floor by the tub, sitting with his legs criss crossed over one another. It was quiet in the room, the only sounds were the occasional gentle splash when you moved your leg or arm. His eyes were still full of worry, and he was kicking himself big time now.

“I’m so sorry...” He breathed out, running his fingertips dragging leisurely your damp arm that you had resting on the ledge of the bathtub; “I never meant to hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me, Sev. I promise.” You responded, wishing he wouldn’t take this so hard.

When it came to you, Severus took everything to heart. There weren’t many things in the world that made his heart beat with a purpose. You were the single person that allowed him to want to get up in the mornings. The thought of hurting you was enough to break him down. If he could have it his way, you would be indescribably happy with every passing moment of every day. He never wanted you to feel anything other than joy. 

But he knew that life would never allow it.

Your eyebrows dipped when you noticed his attire, wondering why he wasn’t in his own sleepwear. It was much too late for him to go anywhere.

“Where are you going?” You questioned, your voice thick with weary.

“I’m going to go back to the school. I have some grading to do.” He half-lied.

It was true that he did indeed have a stack of papers to be assessed, but that wasn’t the real reason why he felt like he wanted to leave. Severus Snape grading on a Friday night when he had the opportunity to be cuddled up with his lover? He’d choose you every time.

Now you felt bad for causing him to scurry off. You wanted him there with you regardless of what had happened.

“Severus,” You called out tenderly, reaching for his face; “I don’t want you to leave.” 

A genuine look of doubt flashed over his features as his head lulled into your hand.

“I think it would be best if you got some good sleep tonight. I’ll just be in my office so if-”

“Stay with me. Please?” You requested, the thought of sleeping without him was disheartening.

A sigh of awe expelled from his chest. He couldn’t say no to your puppy eyes and slightly pouting lower lip.

“Okay, okay.” He agreed.

“I think that some boyfriend snuggles will make me feel a whole lot better.” You spoke rather cheekily.

He hummed affirmatively. The sound of nestling up with you was impossible to turn down. He took your hand from his face and kissed your palm gingerly, holding the warm skin to his lips for a brief moment. He eventually stood from the floor, but stopped when you held your arms up.

“Help me up?” You asked with the first genuine smile of the evening.

He chuckled, obliging and lifting you effortlessly from the tub. The warm towel was heavenly as you dried off, changing into the clothes that Severus had left for you. Severus went and changed as well, laughing to himself when he exited the closet to see you already curled up. 

The sheets draped over him easily when he laid next to you, waiting for you to nuzzle up to him. He held you close and flush to him, thanking his lucky stars that you were okay.

“My sweet girl...” He hushed out, noting that you were just seconds away from falling asleep; “I love you.” 

You mumbled out a sleepy “I love you” in return before drifting into a deep slumber to snooze off the night’s drama. Severus, as expected, didn’t sleep much that night to ensure that you were sleeping soundly and comfortably. He still felt dreadful, even after you had told him over and over that he didn’t hurt you. The weekend to follow was filled with Severus doting and cherishing over you every chance that he had, trying to make up for what had happened. You were the light of his life after all.

And he prayed that he’d never see that flame go out.

[sunrisefairy]

i’m sorry the way u did my last request was SO GOOD i just had to ask for another. could you do one with charlie weasley as a care of magical creatures prof and he finally gets with the professor he’s been flirting with? you write spicy fics so well i cant even

omg stop, ur making me blush. I had fun with this one! 

NSFW 18+ below the cut

You told yourself no boys this year, no distractions, you vowed that this year you’d focus on your career; Dumbledore had given you a position at Hogwarts and you were ecstatic and determined to make him proud. You didn’t think it would be too hard, to have a year free of boys, the male professors at Hogwarts weren’t exactly eye candy. That was until you met the new care of magical creature’s professor, damn that Charlie Weasley.

He was handsome, no argument about it, his rugged good looks and charming, sweet personality had your panties dripping whenever he was in close proximity (even the mere thought of his strong arms and those long fingers had your core throbbing) not that you would ever tell him that.

Charlie Weasley seem to make it his mission to make you flustered, within the first 10 minutes of your initial introduction he told you how breath taking your eyes were and how gorgeous his name sounded when it fell from your lips. You obviously blushed at this and brushed the comments under the rug, assuming he was just being cheeky and kind and didn’t mean anything by it. However, Charlie made very clear he found you attractive and having to endure months of his shameless flirting was proving to be very difficult to ignore the sexual tension between the two of you.

You stared down at the pile of forgotten essays on your desk, your mind was elsewhere, and you couldn’t seem find the concentration to focus on grading them right now. Your brain was preoccupied but a certain gorgeous redheaded wizard. You imagined his rough fingers and how they would feel against your skin, unbuttoning your blouse slowly and teasing your nipples, would he be soft and gentle and caress your breasts or would he prefer to be rough and pinch and tug at your skin? You bit your lip at the thought, arousal already pooling in your panties. It had been too long since you last had sex and you were beginning to grow frustrated and desperate for it.

“Thinking about me again, love?” you’re snapped from your thoughts and immediately clench your thighs at the sight before you. Charlie was leaning against the door frame of your classroom, his arms cross in front of him causing his muscles to strain against his shirt.

You smirk, “how I manage to get anything done when you plague my thoughts 24/7 is beyond me.”

Charlie chuckles at this assuming you’re joking and enters the room, approaching you at your desk. You take this time to rack your eyes over his body, his shirt stretching deliciously over his torso, the top few buttons undone allowing you to scan his neck and collar bone. Merlin how you wish you could sink your teeth into his creamy skin-

You cough to shake yourself of this thought, no boys, no distractions.

“What can I do for you Professor?” you muse, straightening up the long-forgotten essays.

If Charlie noticed you hungrily scanning his body moments before, he doesn’t comment on it. “Oh nothing really, was walking around and had the strong urge to come visit my favourite professor.”

You blush before he continues, “Snape was busy though so thought you were the next best thing.” He’s smirking at you now and you scoff rolling your eyes.

“Ha-ha,” you say sarcastically, “well as you can see, I’m insanely busy grading these essays so can’t say it would be much fun if you stayed.” You pick up an essay from the pile and furrow your eyebrows hoping it looks like you’re deep in thought when really you’ve re-read the same sentence 3 times, still not comprehending what it says.

“I can think of ways we can have fun,” Charlie’s low voice sounds from right next to your ear. How did he get there so fast? “none of which involve boring essays.”

You gulp and turn your head. He’s leaning over your shoulder, invading your personal space, one of his powerful arms is braced against the dark wood of your desk. You can feel Charlie’s soft breath fanning your face and you shudder. You can’t think of anything to say right now, Charlie’s rich scent is swarming your senses and any thoughts that do manage to form inside our brain are not appropriate to say out loud.

Charlie’s eyes glance down at your lips, your tongue darting out to wet them instinctively, he’s unsure if you are aware of the effect you have on him. Such a simple innocent move of licking your lips has Charlie growing hard. He leans closer to you, wanting you to give him the go ahead to continue, as you part your lips Charlie’s certain you’re about to tell him to kiss you.

“The doors open,” you squeak, suddenly very aware of this compromising position and not really eager on an unsuspecting student waltzing past and seeing this scene. You know you should ask Charlie to leave, you have essays to grade and a ‘no boys, no distractions’ rule to follow but Charlie is so close you can almost taste him.

He grins smugly, pointing his wand at your classroom door which slams shut and you can hear the lock click, he whispers a silencing charm too which has your heart beating faster in your chest. Are you really about to do this? Charlie looks down at you waiting for your next move. It feels like eternity before you make your decision, is it the right one, you’re not sure but you’ve dreamt about Charlie’s lips for too long to turn them down now.

In a flash, you connect your lips together, it’s rushed and messy but neither of you seem to mind. You can feel Charlie’s hands all over your body, he’s unbuttoning your shirt and squeezing your hips and arse and pulling you closer and palming your tits and it’s heaven. His lips find their home against your neck and you gasp as his nips and sucks at your skin. Somehow, you’ve change positions and Charlie has you pressed hard against your desk and you can feel his cock hardening in his pants.

“Fuck, want you so bad darling,” he growls into your ear. You tug roughly at his hair forcing his eyes to meet yours. His are dark with desire and you have to force yourself not to come right then and there.

“Then have me,” you respond.

The both of you waste no time, very aware of the fact that you don’t have the luxury of taking your time right now. You’re pulling off each other’s clothes and clawing at skin and leaving scratches and love bites and groaning and whining. Charlie hoists you onto your desk, pushing aside any papers and quills in his way. He wishes he had more time because the desire to kiss along every inch of your beautiful body and explore every freckle or birthmark or scar you have, is so strong. But he just prays you’ll give him another opportunity to do just that, because right now he needs to be inside of you.

Charlie is standing in between your open legs as he takes his fingers and runs them along your slick folds. “Fuck baby, so wet for me huh?”

The sarcastic comment disappears from your mouth as Charlie pushes 2 of his long slender fingers inside your heat, you moan at the sensation. He quickly begins scissoring his fingers set on stretching you out as fast as he could. “F-fuck, Charlie. Feels so good.”

“Wait till you get my cock darling. I’ll have you screaming,” he teases.

You kiss his lips before responding cockily, “go on then.”

Charlie removes his fingers and you whine at the emptiness, “shh darling, I’ll feel you up soon enough. You want that? Want me to fill you up with my cock?”

You’re nodding desperately, “yes please Charlie, please need your cock so bad.”

He grins widely at you, “as you wish.” The both of you groan as he lines up his cock and pushes inside of you. None of your fantasies would have prepared you to how amazing it feels to have Charlie’s cock stretching you out like this. You wrap your legs around his waist as his starts to rock his hips into yours.

Charlie begins to snap his hips faster and faster finding a deliciously rough pace, you’re grateful for the silencing charm he casted because you wouldn’t be able to contain the moans otherwise.

“Holy fuck Charlie,” you whine against his lips letting yourself run your fingers all over his sweaty naked body before they find their home on his hard shoulders.

The groan that rolls out of Charlie’s mouth is borderline pornographic, “I know sweetheart, I know.”

Charlie can feel himself growing closer and closer to his climax and he’d be daft if he lets himself finish before you. Charlie reaches in between the both of you and his thumb connects with your clit, forcing a loud moan to erupt deep from your throat. Charlie starts rubbing tight circles against that bundle of nerves while nipping and sucking at the soft skin on your neck. He can feel you clenching tightly around him.

“S-so close,” you gasp as that familiar tightening sensation pools in your belly.

“Come for me darling, I got you,” Charlie responds, his free hand holding you firming against him as you come undone. His name dripping from your lips like a sweet poem. It only takes a few more thrusts until he’s groaning into your neck and releasing deep inside you, his load painting your walls. The two of you are panting heavily as you try and catch your breath. You chuckle quietly to yourself, enjoying the sensation of Charlie’s now soft cock still inside of you. So much for no boys no distractions.

~~~~~~~

imma start adding my taglist to blurbs too, so if you would like to be added/taken off just send me an ask (if your name is crossed out i couldnt tag you)

@hufflepuff5972 @inglourious-imagines @horrorxweasley @anxiousblanketqueen @dracoswhore007 @georgeweasleyswhre @pandaxnienke

[madhyanas]

tell me ur thoughts on twilek head coverings 👀

aw YES thank u so much my brain was going to burst

to avoid my brain melting out my ears and also to apply some Critical Thought and Depth to star wars for once: i will be ignoring the aspects of the gross sexualisation of female twi’leks that aren’t relevant to what i’m saying. as recommended by doctors

tw: discussions of canon-typical slavery, trafficking, hyper-sexualisation. brief explanation of blood as internally transported by the body (not graphic). compression aids/stockings for medical purposes. 

only mentioning things people might want to avoid - it’s mostly okay!

0. ‘lekku’ - the tentacles growing from twi’lek heads. that’s uhhhh p important lmao

broadly speaking, i see 2 primary points of significance to twi’lek head coverings: cultural and anatomical.

1. cultural significance

to start with the obvious, we only see head coverings worn almost exclusively on women and children. children seemed to wear head coverings regardless of gender (see: suu lawquane’s kids). the only examples i could find of any coverings on adult men are either helmets or bands that wrap around the ends - with the exception of this dude who appears in the kanan comics and honestly? looks amazing

one interpretation could be a modesty-oriented culture. this is probably my favourite cultural explanation, and one i could 100% see emerging as a form of liberation amongst twi’lek women as a response to the over-sexualisation and trafficking of their species. especially since it’s such a well-known practice and stereotype. (for instance, it’s one that hera syndulla took advantage of multiple times to lower people’s guard.) 

the over-sexualisation of twi’leks is, as far as canon is concerned, distinct to twi’lek women, while enslaved twi’lek men were typically trafficked for manual labour. so it would make sense that the women’s experiences and trauma, being different from that of their male counterparts, may have resulted in a unique custom of dress in retaliation to their suffering.

very messed up how twi’leks are characterised as individuals and as a species, but something i would like to explore from that is how their subjugation and hyper-sexualisation influenced their community identity, their ideologies (especially regarding independence) and the twi’lek population taking back autonomy over their bodies and appearance. 

(in my opinion twi’lek women should have more identity-asserting narratives beyond just a few characters, but that’s by the by.)

however, there are a lot of flaws in the modesty-oriented interpretation idea. firstly, if originating as a social revolution against their enslavement, it only makes sense for as long as the enslavement and trafficking of twi’leks had been a practice. not so sure how it works out pre-Empire. secondly, it doesn’t really work in the case of enslaved twi’leks. think original trilogy - they wore ornate head coverings even when barely clothed otherwise. my guess is that these are more for ‘decoration’, for lack of a better word. since the head coverings themselves are apparently a staple of twi’lek culture, it could be that slavers let enslaved twi’leks wear head coverings for the. ‘exotic’ effect. or whatever. disgusting so let’s move on

it could very well be a religious custom, though i don’t think this is very convincing. simply because we don’t see much of twi’lek religion at all. wish we did :(

there’s a few more possible interpretations but last one for now: family lineage. from the kalikori episodes in rebels, it’s made very clear that family legacy is a defining aspect of a twi’lek’s individual identity. so i guess it wouldn’t be a stretch for women to ‘pass on’ a certain style of head covering through the family line. this explanation is really fun imo because it could possibly explain the different styles of head coverings a little more comprehensively than just regional variations/personal preferences. it also adds more more depth to what’s already been established as twi’lek tradition. could also be little things like medallions/ornaments added to head coverings. 

then again - to once more rain on my own parade - this might not check out, since neither suu’s children share any similarities in head coverings to her own, nor does hera to her mother’s. but more on hera’s head coverings below

2. anatomical/physiological

yeah alright i started getting tired here so. bullet points

star wars plays fast and loose when it comes to twi’lek physiology, especially lekku

the presence of ‘braintails’ - lekku that apparently contain part of a twi’lek’s BRAIN (whack) could be a reason for head coverings

so first and foremost i guess a logical explanation would be it’s just safer to have your brain wrapped up lmao - if they’re contained in dangly bits like lekku with no BONE encasing them (???) then having something wrapped around tightly would be a pretty basic safety measure

why don’t men wear them then? well quite a lot of male twi’lek’s have bulbous, protruding foreheads. not too far-fetched to argue that men’s brains are located more forward, while the women’s are located more backward? definitely not an airtight explanation though. 

i’ll be honest my number one favourite explanation behind head coverings is for circulation. like for varicose veins in the legs (a non-fictional condition), patients usually wear compression stockings. they improve blood flow by letting the arteries (high pressure blood vessels) relax for a bit and gives veins (low pressure) some help in sending blood back to the heart

i think that’s what head coverings could be for!! to help with blood circulation in lekku!! they’re essentially an extra pair of limbs to account for but with none of the motor skills/control of movement. and they’re constantly dangling - seeing how bouncy they are, gravity has to be taking a toll there. think like the worst case of pins and needles but you can barely move the limb that HAS the pins n needles. a compression sock/stocking/head covering might help with that.

reasonably speaking the compression sock would be at the bottom of the limb to account for gravity, and this doesn’t address the gender disparity, so it’s not a perfect explanation. but i like it a lot!!!!!

this could also be adapted for pilots, i feel. like hera’s head coverings have been mentioned to be a notable divergence from usual styles, which could be because they’re adapted for rapid changes in altitude, pressure and gravity? 

anyways much to think about

[ursoself-satisfying]

My Sweet Lord (ch2)

hes a lil young here for when how old hes supposed to  be when this stry takes place but its hard to find a non adorable n giggly gif of him lol 

Chapter 2 - I’m On Fire 

Priest!Joe Mazzello x F!Reader, NSFW, ~3.5k words

My Sweet Lord masterlist 

A/N: go listen to holy ghost by modern baseball while u read too cus its rly good,,, anyway this one is a lil dif!!! its a lil bg on the town a lil scene setting n its all about joe now!!! 

special thanks given in this post!! you can find whole accompanying laylists there as well not just single associated songs!!!

Warning(s): sex, religious guilt, some scary images, mentions of ejaculate, uuhhh body horror,,,, i think thats it besides maybe kinda disrespecting ur elders lol ??? 

Father Mazzello had been distracted, to say the least. His newest regular was different, in the simplest terms, and drew his attention in the most tantalizing ways. See, the Oranges was a retiree town in the middle of nowhere, a Bermuda Triangle of the American Midwest. People arrive and they never leave, usually because they die. It was a bit ironic but very fitting to him that the epitome of classic American ideals, though contrasting, collided with ancient human instinct to create this town where the elderly are unequivocally cared for by the young, who remain the bones of the town and keep everything running. You could live and die in the Oranges without ever even leaving them.

The Father had always thought the name was deceiving. “The Oranges” sounded like a small suburb in the wet, hot, muggy parts of Florida, not an old folks zone in middle America. There was some part of him that would always dislike living in a town named “The Oranges”. Maybe it was the priestly side of him, feeling dishonest in their presentation when confronted with their reality, meaning they did not and never have grown oranges there. Maybe it was the sunny signposts standing crookedly beside the worn yellow houses, paint peeling and fences fading, showcasing the poor upkeep of people’s own homes.

He was too harsh, though, because a town, he knew, was not its structures but rather its people, its community. The Oranges had no shortage of smiles, even if they mostly consisted of secondary sets of dentures. That’s what made her smile so different. It was real. Of course, that wasn’t the only reason she stood out, no, it was also her legs, her thighs leading up to her hips, two very real hips, and a waist that would fit so well in his hands and then up a little further where his hands could perfectly cup-

The pencil snapped with a shock and the man blinked at his scribbles, unintelligible now that he’s been broken from his stupor. The lead tip of his pencil rolled in a curved line off his journal then off his desk and he watched it tiredly before glancing at the clock. It was nearly 1 a.m. The clergyman sat back and huffed, taking a moment to assess himself.

His hand had wandered to the crux of his black slacks and he groaned at the hardness beneath the cloth. His groan was unintentional but a needed release as he couldn’t “release” how he really wanted to. His thoughts were clouded with this girl- this girl- He barely knew her name and here he was, fantasizing about her simply because she was the only eligible woman he’d laid his eyes on in nearly a year, or probably more accurately over a year.

‘Why should that even matter to you?’ He asked himself. ‘Why should it matter that she’s eligible? She’s probably not. She probably has a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, even.’ Joe couldn’t help but groan again at the thought of her, pressed against someone else all the ways he wanted her to press against him.

‘Stop it!’ Some voice in the back of his mind hissed. ‘You’re a priest! It doesn’t matter if she’s unavailable! You’re the one who’s unavailable! You took an oath! You made a covenant with the Lord!’ If Joe were a man to curse, this is when he would curse. Instead, he simply moaned in compliance and gave into his conscience, sighing and giving his erection one last squeeze before sliding his hand back up his body, resting it on his open journal. He ripped out the page he’d been working on, the one describing his ‘newest parishioner’ in exquisite detail. No one would ever see that. No one could ever know he experienced such temporal thoughts. He was a priest, after all, he had to set a good example.

He spent the next twenty minutes in a headspace he despised, the one he used to eradicate the want that grew between his legs. It was images of the women in the first row of the church with teeth yellow and denture line visible, their smiles wide and slippery. The men in the back few pews have spots on their balding heads that are sometimes protruding and have hairs only growing there and somehow nowhere else. Joe focused on that, on the lumps and aches they vocalized, on the scratching of their smoke warped voices and the pores like pools on their noses. He thought of the way the hands of the mass shook when they went to place money in the collection basket, the yellow of their nails and the chipped polish on the manicured claws. Their skin was saggy and discolored and their hair is matted and fake and he thinks about what they must look like under their musty Sunday clothes-

He’s soft again, his pants no longer straining and he breathes a sigh of relief, maybe a quiet thanks to God. The priest does his best not to let his mind wander as he lets his feet carry him to his bed where he disrobes, definitely not drifting to imagine how her eager hands would feel pulling his trousers down, nails scraping down his thighs- Joe forced himself to turn the mental image of her tight knuckles to one of chapped and wrinkled ones to keep himself calm. As much as he dislikes subjecting himself to these thoughts, he tells himself he does it for the Lord. The Lord will keep him strong in these times of weakness, he tells himself, in these hours of temptation. He slid into his bed in briefs and an undershirt, letting the softness of his sheets smooth over his skin as it envelopes him and he’s whisked away into a few hours of much-needed rest and revelation.

Your hands had never been softer. It was the only definable thought in Joe’s head when you pushed up his thin shirt. The fabric bunched up over his stomach and you lowered your head to lick a long, wet stripe up from the happy trail disappearing down his shorts.

You were naked, straddling him, hips and thighs curved and soft and outlined by the moonlight that shone in from the cracks in the curtains behind you. The luminescence bounces off the soft tufts of your hair that bunched when your nose hit the bottom of his shirt and you kissed the middle space of his chest reverently. Joe was so wrapped in this moment that he asked no questions. His mind was muddled with lust and want. If you met his needy gaze, you would physically see the fog you caused in his brain, shown in the glazed over eyes that tracked your every move. It was like looking in the windows of a rocking teenager’s car, all steam, and sex behind them.

Your hips ground unconsciously on his crotch where his arousal was obvious and painful and he couldn't keep in his moan. The contact was too much for his near virginal state to handle. Your body, luscious and young and soft, and so easily defiled. It was so sinful. It caused a fire to burn within his loins, reigniting one that had long been a dormant pile of ashes before you came along. Every sway of your breasts as you rose your body slightly from his was another match stricken and thrown to maintain this burn.

Every clench of your thighs around his waist was kindle to feed it. Your undeniable silhouette was gasoline, your ass weighing on his lap was logs and paper, probably journal pages he’s written and hidden of you, but the way you looked down at him, the way your eyes fluttered and your lashes fell, the way your mouth puckered and curled and glistened, that was the first page of the book to burn. One by one, page by page, you would rid him of his religion, strip him of belief until all that existed was you.

And he was fine with that.

Again, Joe felt the contact of your soft pussy pressing over his aching cock and his hand instinctively reached for your hair, tangling his fingers in your locks while his other five went to squeeze at your thigh. Every desperate touch from him was a message; ‘You’re gorgeous,’ ‘please touch me,’ ‘I need you.’ He was practically tracing the letters into your leg as his hand slid down to your knee then back up to your waist. He was still laying down while you were straddling him and grinding against him, occasionally letting your hands wander, pushing up his shirt and licking the skin you could reach without stretching. You had leaned forward to suck at his neck and the holy man about died and ascended to heaven when he felt your tits on his chest and your lips on his neck simultaneously. Your nipples were hard, enough so he felt them drag over his exposed skin when you arched your back and left bruises at his jaw.

Being so focused on your lips, Joe had lost track of your hands. His were on your ass, groping and kneading with silent adoration, but yours had moved from mussing his hair to tugging at his briefs. The man gasped when your hips left his and then, with a swift and sudden motion, his underwear was yanked down and you giggled. Joe, however, did not giggle. The exposure was shocking and the cold was unwelcome, making his cock twitch and sending a shiver up his spine. It was in this moment that Joe finally took in your image, the bite of the cold shaking him from his focus on just how you felt.

All his other senses were hazy and the man of the Lord was overwhelmed. You were glowing. Your hair was feathered and voluptuous. Your skin was velveteen and your body belonged in a temple, deserving of an altar and endless worship. He would have sworn he witnessed a halo form around you as well, a golden line connecting one shoulder to the other in a shining arch. Your smile was soft and distracting, but his gaze persisted down your body full of admiration and curiosity. Your chest was supple and your stomach plush, just like your hips and thighs, all there for him to appreciate.

He sat up to improve his view, allowing himself to be in much closer proximity to you, able now to bask in your scent, sweet and innocent. Then he laid his larger hands on your breasts for the first time. He was almost worried the metal of his rings would surprise you, being cold on your hot skin, but you had no reaction. Kneading with slow gentle movements, he slid his thumb just barely over your nipples, hard and sensitive for him.

Somewhere in the back of his throat, a question was lost, a search for approval that got stuck on its way out, but it didn’t seem to matter as your constant blissful smile was encouraging enough. He didn’t question any of it.

Quiet hums vibrated in your throat and your half-lidded gaze motivated the priest to feel more of your body, squeezing at your waist and ass again and leaning forward to drop unpracticed kisses to the valley of your chest. You laced your fingers in the back of his hair, cradling his skull and holding him to your skin, but when his thumb brushed over your clit, you stopped him. His wrist was caught in your grip in a quick and unexpected move that stopped him from further touching you.

His breath hitched, fearing he’d done something wrong with the way your eyes bore into him, cutting through the silence and bringing him to the reality of what you were doing. Joe felt like he could only inhale, nothing coming out when he tried to push his breath away. He swallowed dryly and your expression softened ever so slightly, dropping his hand to instead wrap your digits around his cock and maneuver it to swipe between your folds. The wetness gathered in your sex and on his tip made for easy entry as you lowered yourself slowly, lashes fluttering and mouth falling open. The man choked on a protest but swallowed it with a moan when his head was sheathed in you, warm and tight and ideal.

Joe couldn't focus on anything. It was all happening so fast for him, a blur of skin and sweat. You bounced on him expertly and he fell limp at your abilities, a sputtering mess as your buoyant tits mesmerized him. Your hot, heavy breaths rained down on him and showered him with increased want, but he was unable to act upon it, struck dumb by a higher force, and that force was the look you gave him, accompanied by a breathy sigh and a smile when you settled fully on his shaft. He hadn’t realized but he had been holding his breath as you rose slid down him again, audibly slick and aroused. At that moment, the world vanished from around him, all fuzz and static, and all he knew was you and the way you felt, sleeved around him perfectly, undulating and flexing with an ever subtle thrust of his, impulsive and quick, needy and natural.

Your speed increased suddenly though, and the priest, barely holding on as it was, couldn’t contain himself. Speaking in tongues of love, he groped at you, searching for an anchor to his physical form as an ethereal feeling washed over him, his orgasm imminent and monumental. It was an out of body experience for the servant of the Lord, greater than any religious bliss he’d yet to experience. He could see himself beneath you, his face contorted as yours glowed with elation and he came inside you. He could feel you pulsing around him and heavenly choirs invaded his ears, the stimulation shrouding him in your presence.

What occurred next was warped and surreal. He was still inside you, coming down but still hard and you were still smiling but the air turned sinister and smelled suddenly not of your scent but of sulfur and lavender. You turned into a shadow over him, no longer a source of light, but rather the opposite; a source of darkness. That’s when your skin began to slip from its place on your skull. Melting like wax, he thought, but his comparison was wrong, so wrong because there were no hot drips hitting his stomach and your hands didn’t begin to pool at his bellybutton. No, instead your soft hands turned to leather and the familiar spots of discoloration and sun exposure began to blossom across your shoulders and chest. He could see your veins, one by one, rise up on your skin on your straining legs. Your breasts sagged and your stomach folded over. Your smile went wider as your lips thinned and eye crinkled, every line on your face growing deeper until he felt the first wisps of your fading white hair fall on his legs. Your nails began to dig into his lower stomach as they grew and then he fell the first few cold objects hit his heated skin. One by one, two by two, teeth, rotted black and yellow, bounced off his chest when you leaned forward.

Joe wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. Maybe he was already, he couldn't tell. By now he assumed his vocal chord had been removed sometime in the night because, still, nothing came out. He tried, he forced all the air in his lungs out his tense lips like a coastal storm blowing in. He was the winds and the waves and the crashing sounds of ocean on rock and sand as he struggled to break free from the growing weight of the body still on top of him, still around him; shaking, twisting, tears streaming down his red face. You were death holding him down, boney legged and saggy skinned, every part of you being pulled with more strength every second towards your home in hell. He didn’t know what to do with his hands so they flailed at his sides as yours slid up his body with the same disturbing gummy, black smile looming over him and all he wanted at that moment was for it all to stop and disappear.

The sweat on his forehead rolled down the sides of his face and collided with the tears that were apparently seeping down his cheeks as well. The tears were hot and the sweat was cold and Joe’s entire face felt numb and damp, and it was. His whole body was. His undershirt was soaked through and his neck shiny and dotted with perspiration. He shot up out of bed, sitting upright with wide eyes as he shook as he frantically assessed his surroundings. The desk was still messy, his journal still out, the lamp was off, the window closed and the door locked. Fear still seeped through his bloodstream and ran from his face to his toes. It was electric emotion that coursed through his body, one that he couldn’t shake and that left his hair standing on end. It was deep beneath is skin, a nestled sense of discomfort. No amount of his unconscious physical shakes could rid himself of it.

He rocked back and forth on his bed for a while, the images of his dream never leaving his head, haunting him like some cliche victorian ghost. His tremors subsided but he wouldn’t be going back to sleep that not, not after that. The drastic shift had gouged a wedge in his heart, one that was now filled with questions and doubts, second thoughts. The fire in his loins burned brighter and hotter and blacker, smoke rising from it in dangerous, polluting amounts.

Upon the onset of further physical discomfort in the form of a cold patch on his briefs, he opted to spend the rest of his night in the shower, not only washing the shameful premature ejaculate from his underwear, but also his dream from his body, the dream he could only assume was a punishment for his earlier sinful thoughts. On one hand, he was washing her touch away, her soft, sweet, innocent touch that couldn’t be wrong, but on the other hand, the abomination that she’d been warped into left a film over him that didn’t seem to wash off.

Joe believed in signs and symbols. He believed that God spoke to you in natural ways, every day. The advertisement on the bus next to you at that red light this morning or the constant re-emergence of one specific suggestion throughout your day, seeing the same person everywhere you went, it was a message from God. “There are no such things as accidents or coincidences,” he preaches, “everything here God has preordained. It is predestined and meant to be.” He thought of her, meeting her and her timing. “Trust that this is the Lord’s will.”

This must be a sign. He thought of all the examples of prophetic dreams in the Bible, all the times the Lord has used this outlet to speak to his servants. Joseph, Jacob, Daniel, Solomon, Nebuchadnezzar- But what did it mean this time? The object of his unsanctioned affection decaying on top of his, immediately post-coitus. It scared him, the implications of it, but it also scared him that he had the dream at all, if he was honest. It was intense. Not only was it erotic, but also scarring. What did it mean for him and his faith? Part of him wanted to brush it aside and ignore any allusions his subconscious was trying to get to him. He wanted to, for once, turn to science to deny the religious answers to his issue, telling himself it was just a projection of some kind of worry, but that would mean he would have to admit to himself he was worried about her, around her, because of her. He would have to acknowledge the effect she had on him and he didn’t want to. He wouldn’t give in to this moment of weakness, so instead he scrubbed his soiled underpants at three in the morning and tried to wash the nightmare from his mind with Shout and bar shampoo, ignoring the heavy dread building in his chest as the hours counted down to Sunday morning, when he would face his congregation of elders and one woman he couldn’t ban from his mind if he wanted to.

He fell asleep at approximately 4:30 in the morning, face flat on the side of his tub, one hand caked in dried soap and the other clinging desperately to his still clearly stained boxer briefs. He didn’t dream this time, and for the first time he was ever aware of it, he was grateful he didn’t.

[littlelovelymemes]

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Like…really hates them in an oddly personal way? Do you think they know?  ’ ‘  and the final mood for 2017 is: you know those days where you’re like, this might as well happen?  ’ ‘  putting more importance into self care, spirituality, love and peace of mind. start with stretching and deep breathing.  ’ ‘  dont forget to tell someone you love that you love them, thank people who deserve to be thanked, be more patient on people having a hard time, be more considerate, understanding, and be kinder, always.  ’ ‘  do you think in the 1700s there were people who were like nah man Mozart’s a total sellout I only listen to peasants beating things with sticks it’s way more authentic  ’ ‘  2032 is gonna be my year just u wait  ’ ‘  I want a “I made a playlist for you” typa love  ’ ‘  @ 2018 the bar is literally so low  ’ ‘  Just because you don’t look like somebody who you think is attractive doesn’t mean you aren’t attractive. Flowers are pretty, but so are sunsets and they look nothing alike.  ’ ‘  i have a “why am i like this” moment at least five times a day  ’ ‘  very sad to hear about donald trump. nothing happened to him i’m just sad to hear about him  ’ ‘  *me, eyes wide open at 3am* what happened to chandler bing once he got to yemen  ’ ‘  tonight’s mood is the deep desire to be held close in a dimly lit room, covered in blankets while rain is softly falling outside  ’ ‘  do ya ever bring your pet up to a mirror and ur like “that you”  ’ ‘  i guess im just too fucking dumb to lucid dream. cant ever realize im in a dream, i’ll look around me like damn i’m in my old elementary school and my teeth are falling out and im naked? well shit guess this is my life now. got fooled by my subconscious again lads  ’ ‘  u ever get no sleep and the next day ur body functions like the tumblr app  ’ ‘  you ever wonder how many people you’re in the “we’re friends but i would kiss you if you asked” club with  ’ ‘  is anyone else just going through life like “yeah i just gotta get past this last difficult week and then it’s smooth sailing from there!” but like… every week  ’ ‘  The only thing toxic that you should still be in contact with is that song Britney Spears made, because that song is lit.  ’ ‘  imagine if you named your kid dad. just dad.  ’ ‘  take care of yourself, please. i don’t know what id do if anything happened to you.  ’ ‘ crazy how personal growth can make you let go of people you swore you couldn’t live without.  ’ ‘  im in no position to have high standards but it doesn’t stop me  ’ ‘  you can start over at anytime. your day is not ruined. your world is not over. take a deep breath. start over.  ’ ‘  I’m gonna have a bomb ass life and I know it cause I’ve suffered so much and I know that wasn’t for no reason  ’ ‘  you ever just get in bed and ur like yep this is where i’m meant to be  ’ ‘  an unstoppable force (my love of books) meets an unmovable object (my lack of a desire to actually read anything)  ’ ‘  i just have this persistent feeling of “i’m not doing enough” combined with “i don’t have the energy to do anything” and it just really fucking sucks  ’ ‘  sorry I haven’t replied to ur texts I’ve been overwhelmed by literally anything that’s ever happened or will happen  ’ ‘  me when i see a wild animal in a metropolitan area: reclaim your space, we are the invaders, retake what is yours  ’ ‘  no offense but money would solve literally every single one of my problems. like all of them. i dont have a single problem that money wouldnt immediately solve  ’ ‘  i am not enough and it’s eating me alive  ’ ‘  what do u mean “what have i been up to” … i’m out here ruining my own life as always bitch  ’ ‘  always remember that love will always come back to u. in a different form, different person, different hobby, different touch. but in any way, love will always come back.  ’ ‘  The struggle between me wanting to be successful and me wanting to lay in bed 24/7  ’ ‘  If you play “Feeling Myself” by Nicki Minaj and Beyoncé at exactly 11:58:50 pm on New Year’s Eve, Beyoncé will say “World Stop” in 2017 and “Carry On” in 2018.  ’ ‘  Self care is putting absurd amounts of parmesan cheese on your pasta  ’ ‘  you ever just like “wow that’s my voice? people listen to this clown on a daily basis?”  ’ ‘  ravioli ravioli give me a reason to live  ’ ‘  finally worked up the courage to tell the starbucks girl she was beautiful and i only puked twice  ’ ‘  do i wanna know??? no. but thank u monkey friends  ’ ‘  hey this is kinda ns.fw but i wann h*ld your h*nd  ’ ‘  talent: overthinking  ’ ‘  have you ever had that feeling that you really wanna workout to get a flat stomach… but you also just wanna eat pizza and watch netflix.  ’ ‘  if you google eyebrows are you eyebrowsing  ’ ‘  *skips tutorial* how the fuck do you play this game  ’ ‘  Literally heard a convo at the library where a guy was telling a girl that he’s an omega and the girl telling him that she’s a beta, and my mind just did not automatically connect the context to fraternity pledge classes at all and I just whispered to myself “what the fuck?? What the fuck??”  ’ ‘  my hands? ready to be held  ’ ‘  Catch These Hands! with your hands. we’re holding hands now. this is nice  ’ ‘  kinda weird that u can think about someone as much as u want and they have no idea  ’ ‘  physically, yes, i could fight a bird. but emotionally? imagine the toll  ’ ‘  I would rather wander around a store for 9 hours than ask an employee where something is and this I do not understand  ’ ‘  my childhood, or, as i like to call it, the general abyss with one or two memories attached to it   ’ ‘  i know ‘gay’ isn’t an emotion but let’s be real,,,,,,,,,it kind of is and i feel it 24/7  ’ ‘  babe get ready for a night on the town, i just found an old Subway gift card and there’s still $9.45 left on it  ’ ‘  just because the past didn’t turn out like you wanted it to, doesn’t mean your future can’t be better than you ever imagined  ’ ‘  i’m the person who’s 100% down for spontaneous adventures but also 100% down to lay in bed all day. i’m on both ends of the spectrum  ’ ‘  this year has changed me more than I ever thought it would.   ’ ‘  it’s ok to disappear for a lil while and get your shit together.  ’ ‘  if you wanna love me hmu  ’ ‘  calling me baby makes me so freakin weak  ’ ‘  i’m that one guy on spongebob always screaming about his leg  ’ ‘  remember to drink a fucking shit ton of water every miserable day of ur life  ’ ‘  i just want someone who’s excited to make out with me and text me all the time.  ’ ‘  never apologize for your giant dogs getting overexcited, if i get taken down by a 100 pound mass of fluff then that’s how i go.  ’ ‘  when i figure out how to die without hurting my mom’s feelings it’s over for me, bitches  ’ ‘  THIS GUY JUST ASKED ME WHAT MY NAME WAS AND I DIDNT UNDERSTAND WHAT HE SAID SO I SAID 4:45  ’ ‘  my blood is glow stick juice. thats why all my bones crack when i move.  ’ ‘  are cute dates and rough sex too much to ask for  ’ ‘  honestly, my goal in life is just to be a very warm person. i want to be as loving and as kind as i can be.  ’ ‘  just a small dumb bitch…. living in a lonely ditch  ’ ‘  you’re not selfish for wanting to be treated well  ’ ‘  when y'all fake conversations in your heads do you sometimes say random sentences out loud too? i was just tying my shoes and said very sternly and loudly “i DO know how ants work, fucker”  ’ ‘  true space facts: if u look up there it is  ’ ‘  anyone else bummed they have 2 sleep alone tonight and uh not in some1s arms  ’ ‘  how am i sensitive and a bitch at the same time  ’

[dunkalfredo]

Mirage Springs (Home Sweet Home)

The protagonist: a young Gadget the Wolf.

The setting: a time when things were... simpler.

(Infidget, except it's that shared Old Friends AU I have with @theashemarie)

AO3 | FFN

yo yo yo what up im back at it again. I think I've only posted during- and post-war so far???? Yeah I think so. this should be somethin new for yall

warnings warn brief animal violence and also implied/referenced character death

anyways heres wonderwall be sure to like comment and subscribe to my youtube c

Gadget doesn’t dream about his father per say, but a few months out from the accident and the funeral and the beginning of it all his dreams get… unpleasant.

Always traumatic. Disaster, tragedy, bodily harm, his mother, trapped, his own self, broken and immobile. He wakes up with a prancing heart and pains in his neck, like his head was moving but there was resistance, a pillow in the way. Advil never really helps. He pretends it does.

One night, he spends all of two hours asleep, the second dreaming of a feral dog tearing a cat into two with its teeth. He hears the procession of the cat’s screeches so vividly, struggles with the molasses around his bones as he looks around at the others in the room, wondering if he should look outside, out the window at the sources of the screeches and the dying. Eventually, he does, and finds Finn, his best friend, one he hasn’t seen in person for years and only in grainy jpegs on his monitor, wrestling the wrangled parts of the cat from the bared fangs of the dog, horror pulling at his features in strange, uncomfortable shapes.

Gadget wakes up ten minutes before his alarm. He doesn’t shut it off.

It rings a few times, the peaceful, lighthearted marimbas that normally fill Gadget with destructive intent only reminding him of the hours ahead of him, hours undoubtedly to be filled with migraines and a putrid sickness in his stomach.

He stumbles down the stairs with Frankenstein feet, legs that don’t really fit him and feel short and stubby and long and gangly at the same time, legs that stick out from his body at odd angles, bones that grew too fast and in the wrong places. He sees his mom, Helen, in the kitchen, still and focused on the kitchen counter (empty) and he decides to tell her.

“We need to move.”

It’s the rain outside that sets him off. He sees it in the window behind his mother, feels it in his bones like little hammers against his marrow, chipping away bits and pieces with every impact until there’s nothing left to support his innards and his flesh. Rain, obscuring, blinding, slippery. Too wet and too slick for city tires. Too obtrusive to the eyes of a crowded interstate. Too enticing for accidents, for metal cars with disgustingly fragile bodies inside of them.

Gadget wants to get as far from the rain as possible.

Helen maintains that obsessive, hollow gaze at the counter tile, and only nods, mechanical and noncomprehensive. Gadget hums, accepting it for now and deciding that, maybe later, he’ll ask again, when she’s had food and a good night’s rest. He knows she didn’t sleep last night. Her pacing kept him up. He wanted to join her.

He didn’t, continuing to stare at his wall and eventually dreaming of rabid dogs and festering cat corpses.

-

Ultimately, it’s a matter of waiting for the house market to open and for Gadget to finish eighth grade, though perhaps not quite in that order. The where isn’t an issue, because there’s only one place that holds the familiarity they desperately need while also giving them needed, necessary space, and the “how” of the matter is settled with his father’s now liquidated assets.

So, July.

There’s the sad, forlorn, empty husk of Gadget that feels close to nothing about this, but then there’s this small, hopeful spark, created and fueled by a face he hasn’t seen properly since a distant, warm but entirely too fuzzy childhood, connected now only to a username tattooed to the back of his brain. Moving has one big, tangible perk, one that’s not centered on recovery, on death, on rain, and he didn’t realize it was there until he was halfway through listening to his mother speak with the realter on the phone.

A familiar face. A friend.

The revelation only reminds him of the loneliness, but. But. That spark shines a little brighter.

-

In May, they finalize the lease for the new homeowners and work on packing (there’s not much, and Helen has a distressing vastness to her knowledge on quick moving shortcuts; Gadget knows why and has never asked for details. Helen never gave them. It’s better that way).

Gadget’s quick to hop on his laptop as soon as he gets off packing duty, perched on the fat windowsill he used to furnish with pillows and blankets to make a makeshift couch (there’s a word for this sort of window-couch, he knows, but he can’t quite reach back in the recesses of his brain to find it, nor can he find the will or energy to care).

AIM is open and chippering happily when he opens the lid. As soon as the window pops up, he sees Finn’s gargantuan mix of x’s and numerals waiting eagerly for his return.

Gadget’s fingers fly over the keyboard. Mmmmmmmhenlo!!!! finally got the lease signed. were packing right now

He receives immediate whiplash as Finn spams a long, dark block of capital A’s.

Gadget types back, quick and a bit snippy: please don’t break ur a key ull give ur mom a scare

Finn, after hesitation and a guilt that seeps straight into the texts and out of Gadget’s monitor, responds with a single, solemn, h.

thank u, Gadget types.

They launch into quick, idle chatter after that, slowly morphing into something more thoughtful as the hours wear on until Finn sends, after a brief pause: u think ull recognize me?

Gadget’s chest collapses slightly, not quite a sigh but a hefty release of breath regardless. I mean. ive seen pictures but. I dunno

When a quiet, hesitant ‘we’ll see’ flashes across the screen, Gadget flinches, only to force his eyes closed and away from the affronting text. He breathes, in, out, shallow but to a slow count of ten.

It’s just Finn, unsure and insecure and afraid. He’s always worried, Gadget tells himself. He’s paranoid.

But there’s a brief image in his mind of himself looking out at the swarm of bodies in the airport, lugging a suitcase of clothes behind him and a ticket, punched, in his hand, with no one there to greet him.

He doesn’t know if he could handle that.

He doesn’t want to find out.

-

July. Humid in the north, but bone-dry in the south. That should’ve made it better. It didn’t.

Gadget forgot just how heavy the sun felt in Mirage Springs, and in that brief stretch between plane cabin and port entrance, he’s reminded with vivid, visceral clarity just how much he loathes the heat, even if it doesn’t stick to his neck like it did back home. At least, at home, he didn’t worry about blistered feet and heat stroke.

He tries not to take it as a bad omen, as a sign that this was a bad idea, but it sits in the pit of his stomach and grows fetid.

It doesn’t help that he aches, that his knees creak after stuck in artificial, harsh angles for so long, that his ears pop every now and then without warning because the plane was high but the mountains and trees up north were even higher.

He’s hurt, and tired, and nervous, and overall in a sour, worn mood (not helped by the long minutes spent in one security check after another), and there’s little pomp and circumstance when he’s finally out in the open with his meagre luggage behind him and plane ticket crinkled between his fingers.

Then, he sees Finn.

Or, rather, his mother Helen sees Finn, and he only sees Finn after she puts a knowing hand on Gadget’s shoulder and says, “I’ll go back for the rest of the luggage.”

And she leaves, and it’s just him, and Finn (and an entire airport, but that’s unimportant).

Gadget doesn’t know why he ever worried; Finn sticks out like a sore thumb. Not in stature, the shrinking violet he was, but definitely in the black everything and the thick, sturdy, too-hot boots and the long, long, chaos it was so long hair and really, even without all of that, his scar made him look like some rogue mercenary lost in a swarm of unfittingly normal people, loose from the trail of his target and aimless in his search for a way back on.

There’s no warning before Gadget is, in every sense of the word, swept off his feet.

“You’re back!” Finn booms with every ounce of air in his lungs, voice cracking like an egg on a floor but pitch reaching an unnerving deepness for a teen his age. Gadget’s overwhelmed, with all the earth-shaking timber of Finn’s voice roaring right next to his ear and the room spinning around him and the lack of ground under his feet and, wait, no ground, wait…

Gadget’s placed firmly on his feet mere seconds after the hug-and-spin that was needlessly thrust upon him (though he’d later reflect that, perhaps in other circumstances, maybe he would actually enjoy it, just a little), and his first words are not heartfelt, or gentle, but just as booming as Finn and with alarming distress: “You’re tall!”

This is just about shouted into Finn’s chest (Gadget is still being hugged (and is hugging back, undeniably)) and Finn only knows he said anything over the rumble of the surrounding airport because of the vibrations Gadget’s creaking tenor voice leaves in his chest (proximity, not power).

Finn pulls back, troubled by the tone and not sure what to make of it, simply responding with a dazed, panicked, “Yeah?” that cracks at the end.

His panic is furthered, if only for a moment, by Gadget’s subsequent movements of hand comparison, that funny maneuver where the hand, palm down, is dragged from the top of one’s head straight across to the other person, and Gadget lets out a distraught squeak when his hand bumps against the center of Finn’s sternum.

“What?!” This is Gadget speaking, or rather borderline hollering, as he stares exasperated at Finn. Then, just like that, he deflates. His head hangs. It’s a pity party for one.

Finn stands there, completely dumbfounded, watching his friend stew in his own misery, then walking forward to pat his back with the finesse expected from a young, awkward teenage boy. “There, there,” Finn soothes.

He receives a small, saddened whimper in response.

Later, when Gadget’s home and nestled in a neat corner of his bare room, it dawns on him that Finn’s boots had heels. His ears pop again.

B L E A S E reblog i beg of u my crops are dying