#maybe some internal bleeding if youre feeling generous

[thealexandriaarchives]

Dune Fandom, We Need to Be Hornier About Fluids

There's something wrong when we don't sexualize how much Feyd-Rautha canonically drools like a broken spigot the second he looks excited, and look, we all got distracted with the arranged marriages, the omegaverse, the gender swap fics, the Bene Gesserit Voice kink, the nonstop breeding kink fic, the 'in another life I would have been your wife' soulmate fics. I get it.

But if ever there was a fandom designed almost solely for the purpose of fetishizing the hell out of every variation of the Wet & Messy tags, along with the sacrilegious guilt inherent to Arrakis over wasting water? It's Dune.

Drool. Sweat. Cry. Piss. Cum. Bleed.

There are 1001 prompts from 'so filthy it's profane' to genuinely kind of heartwarming but I want it to get the intensive fanfiction attention.

How do we treat some of our most common forms of humiliation in a world where spitting on the floor in front of someone is a show of greatest respect? Is boot-polishing for someone as a submissive with your tongue an honor or a shameful act because it wastes the water? What are the ramifications of Bukkake on Arrakis?

Imagine someone who has internalized Fremen values and beliefs with an Omorashi kink. Maybe they don't even know they have one, they've used a stillsuit for so long, but suddenly they're exposed, and full, and all they can do is just close their eyes and chant to themselves 'Don't Let It Out' as a litany.

Awaken Dacryphilia kinksters. A literal miracle is documented in the book about the first time Lisan al'Gaib wept and gave water to dead. Villeneuve takes this and makes it into a perverted dream that Muad'Dib steals from the heart of a Southern tribal elder.

Not feeling the PWP stuff? That's fair, we're all still one or three really good fics away from being a little too into something.

How about Hurt/Comfort and Whump fics? I haven't seen any really good severe dehydration scenarios, we need a couple. Stillsuits & Stilltents fail, or are damaged in battle. The old 'drink of my flesh so you may live'. Let's get dirty with Dirty Water. Or honestly, it seems like you can survive at least temporarily with only one canister of it taken.

In general just so many opportunities for bloodplay. But if you wanna stay tamer with it (though Feyd-Rautha's pets at least are canon cannibals) how about the fact that a Crisknife drawn cannot be sheathed without being blooded. This was shown but not stated in the 2021 Dune, so drawing one must be a thoughtful and measured act as you slice your own palm and spill your own water if you put it away in peace.

I speak now with the voice of the Lisan al'Gaib the ghost of Frank Herbert on ZERO authority and call upon all the Dune fandom to get HORNIER about being WET.

[void-wolfie]

Falling Head First

summary: you're a bit clumsy, it's a good thing Jenna's always there to pick you up when you fall. [request]

pairing: Jenna Ortega x gn!Reader

tw: none? terrible writing lol... (let me know if I need to add anything)

words: 2.22k

a/n: hope this is what you were looking for anon. Sorry it took me so long to get to your request.

You skated past that house again, the one where the kids were always outside playing. The one where that pretty girl lived.

Except this time, there weren't any kids outside goofing around. Just her. That pretty girl who was roughly your age, maybe a bit older. She had her headphones in and her nose buried in her phone as she sat on the front porch.

You always rode past her house, hoping maybe one day she'd stop you and say hi. You'd stop yourself, but you just couldn't... Your mother called it being shy, your therapist liked to call it social anxiety. Either way, you couldn't bring yourself to talk to her. Or anyone really. Too many what-ifs... What if she laughed at you? What if you embarrassed yourself? What if she hated you? Or called you stupid? Or-

Lost in your thoughts, you'd completely missed the rock in the road. Your skateboard darted out to the side, throwing you head-first into the pavement.

You rolled over onto your back, trying to brush off the adrenaline pumping through your veins. Everything hurt, but nothing felt broken, right?

"Oh my god, are you ok?" You looked up to notice the girl rushing towards you, looking fairly concerned.

"Uh-" You looked yourself up and down, nothing felt broken, nothing looked broken, "Fine, I think,"

"You're bleeding," She kneeled beside you, softly tilting your chin to get a better look at your head.

She prodded at the corner of your forehead with her finger. You instantly recoiled, hissing at the stinging sensation.

"Sorry, sorry," She backed away, leaving the cut alone. "You're not gonna need stitches, come on, let me get you patched up,"

She stood up and held out her hand, offering to help you up.

Your mind was reeling. Why was she being so nice to you, the two of you were strangers…

"Uh, thanks," You took her hand, letting her help you up. It was either let her help clean you up, or skate home with blood dripping down your face. Might as well pick the option with the pretty girl, you thought to yourself.

You picked up your skateboard and followed the girl into the house, leaving the board by the door so as not to track dirt through the whole place.

"I'm Jenna, by the way,"

"y/n,"

She pointed at the toilet and you sat down, wringing your hands nervously. She dug around underneath the bathroom counter, most likely looking for a first aid kit of some kind.

She set a bottle of hydrogen peroxide on the counter followed up by a washcloth and a box of Band-Aids.

"I've seen you around before, do you live close?"

Oh small talk, why did it have to be small talk? You suck at small talk...

"Uh, yeah. Just a few streets down from here,"

"How old are you?"

You internally cringed, why did this feel so painfully awkward?

"Sixteen, my birthday's in a few months... what about you?"

"Seventeen, my birthday was last week actually,"

"Oh, happy birthday,"

"Thanks,"

The smile she gave you made you feel like you were on cloud nine. Butterflies, fireworks, every other stupid little analogy they talk about in those cheesy romance novels. You'd fall off your skateboard every day if it meant you could see that smile just one more time.

"Stop moving," You hadn't even realized your knee had been bouncing up and down, picking at your fingernails. Bad habits you'd picked up over the years, and ones you generally caught yourself doing when you were nervous.

She grabbed the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and the washcloth, placing herself in between your knees as she stood in front of you. "Alright, hold still. This'll probably sting."

"One, two..."

You waited for her to get to three, but it never came. Instead, you felt her pour the liquid into the cut, burning as it fizzled.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow-" You tried to sit still, but you weren't very good at it. You were squirming like a worm on a hook, eyes closed as a mix of hydrogen peroxide and blood dribbled down the side of your face.

You heard Jenna giggle, followed by the feeling of her hand cupping your cheek, "I said hold still." She wiped off the side of your face with the washcloth, dabbing at the cut slightly to make sure it was all dry.

You felt her leave the spot in front of you. You opened your eyes, watching as she tossed the washcloth into the sink, grabbing the box of Band-Aids from the counter.

"Ok, you have a very important decision to make," you tilted your head, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. Jenna had to hold in a laugh at how adorable you looked.

"Scooby-Doo or Spiderman?" She held up two Band-Aids, one with little Scooby-Doo heads and doggy prints, the other with Spiderman doing a bunch of different poses.

She was attempting to look dead serious, a blank stare as she waited for you to answer, but you didn't buy the act for one second.

You scoffed playfully, "Scooby-Doo, of course."

She set the Spiderman Band-Aid back in the box with a smile, "Not a fan of Spiderman, huh?"

"Spiderman is cool, Scooby-Doo is just better,"

She stood back in front of you, nudging your knees further apart so could step between them again. Only so she could get closer to your face for the Band-Aid, no other reason. At least, that's what she told herself.

You watched her as she got closer, getting lost between the freckles that dotted her face like stars in the night sky and those big brown eyes, nearly black as night yet full of so much life and joy.

"You're staring," She smirked, enjoying the blush that spread across your cheeks and up to your ears.

"Sorry," You squeaked out, nervously looking at the ground.

"It's alright,"

She grabbed your chin in her hand, angling your head so you were staring at the wall so she could get a better view of the cut on your head. "Stay,"

You didn't move a muscle. How could you when she said it like that? Like you were some lost little puppy following her every whim… Putting it like that made you feel pathetic, after all, you'd only met the girl today. And yet, part of you knew you'd do whatever she said just to keep seeing that adorable smile.

Five minutes and you were already whipped...

You were so caught up in your thoughts you barely even registered her putting the Band-Aid on. You hadn't realized she was done till her hand was on your chin again. Her hand was still cupping your face as you stared up at her, once again falling prey to those enchanting eyes and countless freckles.

"All better," She took a step back, removing herself from between your legs, much to your disappointment.

"Hi, love," you leaned back, hanging upside down in front of Jenna.

She yelped, jumping back a step out of surprise. She hadn't expected you to be there when she rounded the corner, "Jesus, y/n. You scared the shit outta me."

"Sorry," You gave a sheepish smile, feeling bad for scaring her.

It'd been two years since you met Jenna, and one amazing year since the two of you started dating. Your only regret was not kissing her that first day you met. She was standing right there, right between your knees, and you let the chance slip away... But that was a thing of the past, and now you could kiss her as much as you wanted.

"What are you doing up there? It's starting to rain, baby, we got to go,"

You pouted, a bit childishly at that. Jenna had to fight off the urge to smile at you. She didn't want you to fall and hurt yourself, you were already prone to accidents as is.

The two of you decided to have a day for yourselves, just goofing off and having fun. Somewhere along the way you ended up at the park, walking along the trails and enjoying the peace and quiet. Jenna left you near the playground by yourself while she ran off to the restroom, it was only natural that you decided to goof off and have a little fun. After coming back, Jenna noticed the rain coming in, scaring off what was left of the remaining parents and kids.

It was drizzling as she searched for you. Rounding the corner she found you here, dangling upside-down from the pull-up bars by your knees.

"I wanted to try kissing you upside down, like in the movie last night,"

She couldn't hold back the giggles this time, smiling at your adorable pout, "You mean the Spiderman kiss? The upside-down, kissing in the rain thing?"

"Yes please, kisses now," You made grabby hands at her, which came out a bit awkward and uncoordinated from how you were hanging upside down.

She laughed, showing off that radiant smile that you adored. She grabbed the sides of your face, kissing you as requested. It was soft, simple, and sweet. No different from the dozens of other times she'd kissed you before. But goddamn, that feeling you get every time never seems to go away. Her kisses were addictive, they set your nerves on fire and left you craving more. You felt like you could melt under her touch.

Apparently, you relaxed under her touch a little too much. Your grip on the bar loosened and the bar slipped out from beneath you. Before you knew it Jenna was scrambling back as you tumbled head-first into the uneven ground below.

You knew something was wrong the second you landed, a small crack coming from somewhere.

"Ow..."

Jenna watched you slip from the bar, managing to brace your fall as you stuck out your arms. She heard a yelp, followed by a strained 'ow'. But you didn't get up right away. She watched you curl in on yourself instead, writhing about on the ground in pain.

Shit.

She was down on her knees beside you in the dirt, wanting to help but afraid to touch you and make everything worse, "Hey, what happened? Where's it hurt?"

"My wrist," You managed to get out between gritted teeth, tears already beginning to well up in your eyes from the pain, "I fell on my wrist."

"Ok, let me see,"

You stopped wriggling about long enough for her to look at your arm. It didn't look like it was broken, granted her idea of ‘broken’ entailed bones sticking out of the skin or limbs pointed in funny directions.

Jenna went to gently grab your arm, so she could check the other side, but you quickly pulled back with a little yelp and a rush of tears.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," She was starting to panic now, she'd barely even touched you.

The rain was starting to come down harder now, too much longer and the two of you would be soaked to the bone. Far off in the distance, Jenna could just barely make out the rumbling of thunder.

All she had to do was get you to the car. But that was easier said than done. You were still on the ground, wet from the rain, and tensed up in pain.

"Hey, baby, look at me,"

You stopped wriggling around for just a moment, long enough to focus on Jenna. She placed her hands on either side of your face and you closed your eyes, melting into her touch. She placed a kiss on your forehead, then on your nose, and finally on your lips.

"Let's get you home, alright?"

She lied. Well, not technically, but yes.

When Jenna said she was going to take you home, you assumed she meant right away. But that was a lie. Instead, she forced you into going to the ER first to get your wrist checked out.

After hours of waiting, having to endure the stale smell of disinfectant, and medical professionals poking and prodding at your arm, you were finally being sent home.

You flopped down on the sofa the second you got through the door. You were exhausted. You closed your eyes and curled up into the corner of the couch, being careful not to agitate your arm, wishing you could fall asleep right then and there.

You were just about to doze off when you heard footsteps approaching. You didn't bother to look, only one other person was home.

"Scoot over, love,"

You did as you were told, making room for your girlfriend next to you. The second she was comfortable you laid yourself across her lap, finding it a bit awkward to get comfortable with the splint for your wrist.

Your eyes were shut once again as you felt something soft being nudged into your arms. You didn't have to look to know what it was. It was the stuffed animal Jenna bought you for your birthday, the absolute softest plush dinosaur you'd ever seen. You definitely haven't slept with it every night since then.

She draped a blanket over the two of you and by the time she started running her fingers through your hair, you were already asleep. The only sound in the room coming from your soft snores.

[hanckocks-dagger]

Red Nightgown Blues

masterlist

John Hancock x afab!reader

Description: After a medical emergency, you realize the only thing you really need is Hancock by your side.

Fill for a truly ancient LiveJournal prompt from the Fallout Kink Meme

Tags: Established relationship, hurt/comfort, angst, reader is SoSu, no y/n

Warnings: Miscarriage, blood, medical exams/procedures, worries about terminal illness. (I don't go into much detail and none of it is all that explicit, but please skip out on this one if you feel it would be triggering to you <3 )

Word count: 3.1K

Crossposted on my ao3

The bed was wet. Not in a damp, sweaty naked bodies way, but like someone had dumped an entire bucket of water onto your legs. Distantly, you thought back to your dreams, wondering if you'd gotten too high last night and managed to wet the bed. Ugh. Not the most respectable thing for the general of the Minutemen, but god knows you'd pulled Hancock out of enough puddles of his own vomit for it to be your turn.

Speaking of. You twisted in the bed to check the other side of the bed, wincing when your stomach cramped at the movement, muscles sore beyond belief. What the fuck?

The bed was empty, Hancock's hat and coat missing from where he'd tossed them the night before. He didn't tend to wake up before you, but maybe Fahrenheit had dragged him off for some mayoring business.

The front of your shirt and your underwear were uncomfortably sticky, glued to your skin, so you decided it would be best to rip the band-aid off, go strip the sheets and wallow in embarrassment for a while. You raised the sheets slowly, expecting to find a damp spot on the bed, maybe some moisture on the skin, but paled at the sight that greeted you. Blood. Way, way too much blood.

You inhaled shakily, pulling yourself into a sitting position, sending another stab of pain through your abdomen as you did. You shoved the sheets to the side, taking in the wet puddle of blood in the bed, more crusted onto your thighs, your underwear unrecognizable, dyed red.

"Shit," You whimpered, mind already reeling. God, you wished John hadn't left, his disposition much less prone to panic than you were, wanted him to be your voice of reason as your mind spun with possibilities. Was it the sex? You were usually pretty careful, taking your RadX first and finishing off with RadAway. Hell, you couldn't even name the last time he'd finished inside of you. But... maybe your body was tired of it, rebelling. Or maybe you'd had internal bleeding from your last fight, but didn't that usually show up in your vomit?

You rose to your feet, legs shaky, and stripped the bed, using a corner of the sheet to wipe off your thighs, wincing as the blood smeared over your skin. It didn't exactly look fresh, it wasn't like someone had stabbed you in the middle of the night, it looked more like the darker, browner color of your period, but this was... way too much blood.

You balled up the sheets in your hands, leaving them on the floor as you struggled to get your pants on. You needed a doctor. Amari was fine for patching up scrapes, and had even reattached some of Hancock's fingers when they got bitten off by a rabid dog once, but she specialized in brains, not whatever this was.

You pulled a piece of paper from the desk, scribbling out a quick explanation to John so he wouldn't be liable to lose his mind when he couldn't find you skulking around.

Popped over to Diamond City for the day, back before dark <3

On a normal day you would've tracked him down, gotten him to kiss you stupid before letting you leave, but you were shaking, pale and very clearly panicking, and you didn't want him to worry, or insist on following you. You weren't sure you had it in you to keep him from threatening to bite whoever badmouthed him, not today.

You pulled on your shirt, ignoring the way your blood covered hands left streaks on the fabric, shouldered your gun and tucked some caps into your pockets. If you moved slowly, kept out of sight and didn't run into any problems on the way, the walk shouldn't be more than an hour.

Downtown Boston was light and quiet, lit by noon sun bright enough that you wished you could've had John's hat to shade your eyes. Your fingers itched to have his hand to hold, and your fraying nerves had you wishing for his voice to calm you. Your ideas were spinning rapidly out of control: This was cancer, or some other equally incurable illness. You were dying. How could you possibly go home and face John to have to tell him that your time together was coming to an end, that you were abandoning him?

You steadied yourself on a rusted mailbox, forcing a few deep breaths before you lost your mind completely. You'd already passed the first sign for Diamond City, it was just a couple of blocks and you'd be inside the city walls. You’d go talk to Doctor Sun, end your panic. No matter the outcome, knowing was better than this pointless speculation.

You were more lightheaded than you were comfortable being, but kept walking, regretting not having brought water with you in your hurry to get out without Hancock spotting you. You regretted not going to him, either. Sure, you were strong, capable, got through more than most, but wasn’t this the sort of thing partners were for? Shouldering the heavy burdens with you, providing comfort. 

As the gates of Diamond City approached, you considered turning around, trekking back and just falling into his arms, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to make the journey twice in one day, not the way your vision was starting to swim. So, instead, you walked into the gates alone, emerging into the bustling Diamond City, and headed towards the Doctor’s. 

Doctor Sun frowned as you whispered your symptoms to him, putting down his clipboard when you spoke of the cramps in your abdomen, quickly ushering you inside his house.

"Are you sexually active?"

You bit your lip, pausing to consider how to answer. Would he deny you medical service if you admitted to shacking up with a Ghoul? Sure, he was a doctor, but Diamond City's distrust of Ghouls had deep roots. You weren't willing to risk it, kept it to a clipped, "Yes."

He nodded, instructing you to pull your pants down and lie down on the table. You hesitated, the memory of the mess with Doc Crocker fresh in your mind. Still, your gun was leant against the table, and though Doctor Sun wasn't a small guy, you spent your time flitting about the wastes. If the worst happened, you’d be able to fight him off.

The inspection was quick, invasive and painful. Doctor Sun was professional the whole way through, and pointedly did not look at you as you redressed, tears stinging at your eyes.

"I'm sorry to say, but your cervix is dilated, indicating a miscarriage."

You blinked at him, having been bracing for news of your inevitable death. You were pregnant?

"But–" You cut yourself off. Couldn't tell him that that would be impossible. "That's... that's it? It's not... uterine cancer? Or like... cysts on the ovaries or something? A miscarriage?"

"All indications point to that, yes. Otherwise, you seem healthy. Again, I'm very sorry."

The shock of the news left you numb to anything else, no feelings attached to the thing itself. "Uhm, okay. Thank you. Should I... do anything?"

"Well, you've probably lost a substantial amount of blood, so I'm going to administer a blood pack. You should try to keep your diet rich in iron for the next few days, and spend the day resting."

"Thank you," You said blankly, as the doctor went about searching for blood, gave you a glass of water, and took his payment.

When he told you it was safe to leave, you stepped into the market in a daze. How would you have gotten pregnant? Ghouls were sterile, it was one of the few facts that almost everyone seemed to know about them.

You bought some meat, which you ate without tasting it, then walked over to Sheng's for some cold water. The boy looked at you strangely as you passed over the caps, but kept his mouth shut.

The thought briefly crossed your mind that it could have been someone else, as you wracked your mind for any missing memories, any nights with strangers, but besides that time last month when you'd gone with John up to Tenpines to help with some electrical failure, there was nothing. He'd been by your side every night and almost every day.

Again, you felt the sting of tears, confusion overwhelming you. You thought about renting a room to get some privacy, but you desperately wanted company, someone to pull you out of your thoughts. You thought about calling on Nick, but somehow it didn't feel right, so you ended up at Publick Occurrences, saying hi to a distracted Nat before sneaking in through the door.

Piper's house was calm, warm, smelled of ink and dusty books. Piper herself was upstairs, calling down a hello as you entered. "I'm working on an article, come up and keep me company!"

You collapsed onto her bed, watching as she typed at her terminal, hunched over with the world's worst posture, occasionally mumbling to herself as she picked through notes in her little notepad.

"I just had a misscarriage." The words tumbled out without permission, needing to exist out in the open, to be shared with someone.

Piper froze, hands hovering above the keys, before she spun in her seat, eyes wide.

"What?"

You nodded, surprised to find tears dripping down your face.

"Who's... was it?" Her words were indelicate, wincing to herself as she spoke.

"John's."

"But..."

"I know," You used the back of your hand to wipe away the wetness on your cheeks, sniffling. "But I haven't been with anyone else. And Doctor Sun seemed pretty sure."

Piper leant over to pat you on the shoulder, and you caught her hand, giving it a soft squeeze.

"D'you mind if I crash here tonight? He told me to take it easy today, so I probably shouldn't walk back."

"Yeah, of course, Blue. Anything you need."

It wasn't far after dusk when the guilt set in, and you found yourself wishing for a functional telephone. Hancock knew you could take care of yourself, but he also worried for you more than just about anything in the world. If you told him you were feeling depressed while dumping his whole stash of drugs out the window, you were reasonably sure he'd ask after you first. Or, at least very quickly afterwards. 

After keeping you company for a couple of peaceful hours, Piper vanished to go get some dinner for the three of you, leaving you to try to occupy yourself with one of her ancient novels.

Still, you didn't get to wallow very long, a crash from downstairs with the panicked call of your name drew your eyes from the book you'd been reading, a screeching Nat appearing in the stairway, single-handedly holding back a panicked Hancock with her fists raised.

"I told you, you can't come in here, Ghoul!"

"It's alright, Nat," You said, clambering off the bed to reach them. Your steps were slow, the pain in your stomach having died down from occasional cramps to a constant low ache. The second you were down from the stairs, John was pulling you into his arms, peppering your face with kisses, "Where the fuck did you go? What happened? I was–" He caught himself, jaw tensing as he pulled back to stare at you, eyes crinkled in concern. "Are you okay?" He asked, finally, and you didn't miss the quiver in his voice.

"I'm fine," You said, and were surprised to find that it was the truth. Clutched in his arms, the world felt right again, "C'mon, let's go talk in private."

Nat was still staring at John like she planned on kicking his ass, and with as wiry as he was, you weren't totally sure she couldn't. You guided him gently up the stairs, through the room and out onto the roof access. You didn't mind the rowdy nature of Goodneighbor nights, drunken laughter, fistfights and arguments, but there was something about the calm of Diamond City evenings that you appreciated just as much. There were even crickets in the grass, chirping their hearts away over the gentle murmur of people at the bars, bots in the markets.

You led Hancock towards the couch Piper had forced you to help her drag up here some months ago, watching him collapse with unusual gravity onto the cushions, half pulling you onto his chest with him. You relished the warmth of him, the familiar softness of his coat, the ever present smell of cigarettes and Jet that clung to his skin.

"What happened, love?"

You hadn't actually given all that much thought to how you would explain yourself, simply appreciating the relief of not having to tell him you were dying. After some thought, though, you figured the simple truth would be best.

"I came to see the doctor." His grip tightened, already inhaling to ask what had happened, what was wrong, but you cut him off. "I woke up covered in blood. I got scared, figured it would be best to go in on my own and see what was wrong right away." John's fingers found your hand, clutching it tight, and you squeezed him right back.

"I uhm–" God, why was it so hard now? "I had a miscarriage."

The hand you were holding tensed, minutely, then pulled away, John shifting away from your body so he could turn his face to look you in the eyes. He looked... miserable.

"Are–" He had to clear his throat, voice even more gravelly than usual, "Are you okay?"

You nodded, bunching your hands in your shirt, desperate to hold something, "Yeah, the doctor said I should be fine. Just some rest, he gave me some blood."

"And who's– who's the father?" The words seemed to pain him, eyes slipping away from yours to look up at the sky, stars reflected in his eyes. He looked like he was about to cry.

"John," You breathed, hands sliding over to take his hands again, squeezing hard so he couldn't pull away, "You are. Of course you are. I wouldn't– I haven't cheated."

His eyes flickered downwards, just for a moment, but you hoped he could sense the earnestness in your expression.

"John," You repeated, firmly, "I love you. No one else. Hell, we've been attached at the hip the last two months, when would I have even had the chance to run off and get knocked up?"

He considered this, Adam's apple bobbing, "Yes, but, baby, you know I'm sterile, right?"

"I know. I don't–" You had to pause, swallow a lump in your throat, "I don't get it, but that's probably why I miscarried, anyway. Just a– a fluke."

"A fluke," He repeated, then his chest heaved, and suddenly he was curling into you, face buried in your shoulder, arms wrapped around you as he sobbed into your skin. You'd never seen him cry before.

You wrapped your arms around him, only taking a moment to pluck his hat off and toss it to the side, so you could tuck a hand around the back of his head, hold him closer. He had to trust you on this, seeing as you were the only one who could reasonably know if you'd actually slept with anyone else, and even then, you hadn't been completely sure at first.

You kissed the top of his head, whatever skin you could reach, as his hands clutched at the back of your shirt, almost like he expected you to vanish if he let go. You held him back just as tight. Your relationship wasn't new, by this point, but it hadn't been so long that it was unreasonable to assume it wouldn't last the rest of your lives. But now, you felt something shift, maybe just in you, maybe in this thing between the two of you. You loved him and you didn't want to lose him, not for anything, not even a baby.

Eventually, his sobs faded, only the occasional tear spilling onto your skin. His grip loosened, second by second, until he righted himself, cleared his throat, put his hat back on his head. You reached out for him again, though, cupping his face in his hands, thumbs brushing away the tears on his cheeks. You gave him a weak little smile, not sure exactly what was going through his head. Sometimes, his mind worked a little too fast for you to follow, thoughts too warped by his own insecurities for you to understand.

"What are you thinking?" You whispered, fingers still ghosting over his cheeks.

"Are you– Would you have wanted to keep it?"

You thought about it. Raised the way you were, a family was considered the end goal of a relationship, along with marriage and all that other nonsense.

"No," You decided on, "Not right now, anyway. I'm still getting to know this world, still finding my purpose in it."

He nodded into your palms, turning to press a kiss to the inside of one of them. It sent a wave of soft heat through you, the gesture so achingly intimate.

"What about you?" You asked, realizing that it wasn't something the two of you had ever really addressed. By the time you'd started sleeping together, you'd already known that ghouls were infertile, and had just figured that was that, no need to worry about any accidental pregnancies. Of course, he still pulled out a majority of the time, seeing as it burned like a motherfucker, still setting off the Geiger counter on your pip-boy, but it was just one less thing to worry about.

"I'm not..." He trailed off, "I didn't think it was an option. Just sort of put it out of my mind."

You nodded, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Well, if we ever get to that point, we'll deal with it then, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

You pressed your forehead to his, shutting your eyes, "I'm sorry for not coming for you. I regretted it the second I was gone. Just got scared."

The brush of lips over yours, "I'm always here for you, love, no matter what it is."

"I know." You did, believed it with every fiber of your being. Knew that no matter what, in Goodneighbor or out in the wasteland, John had your back.

"Now, come on, it's getting cold," You opened your eyes, stood up, pulling him up with you, "Let's go bully Nick into lending us his bed for the night, it's not like he's using it."

Hancock grinned, "Lead the way."

Notes: Bit heavier than my usual stuff, but I was just scrolling though the kink meme prompts and this just popped fully formed into my head... I am always a sucker for some good hurt/comfort tho. And this is my first fic where Hancock cries! Usually I'm more masochistic towards my blorbos than that....

[esamastation]

Part twenty-nine of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight

-

Rude releases a breath when he sees the door leading to the helipad opening and Hewley and Sephiroth finally exiting. He's not terribly thrilled about having to chauffeur a man so fresh out of metal breakdown - especially with the way Reno is cackling in his earpiece - but at least the man is officially out the building.

Now he just has to get him off it, and they'd be good, the building would be secure.

"Oh man, I am so glad that got caught on video," Reno giggles in his ear. "Nothing against the Professor personally, but hoolyy shit, it was downright poetic."

Rude sighs, watching as Hewley and Sephiroth stop to talk by the door - too far to be heard over the helicopter rotors and too obscured by their positions for accurate lip reading. "Perhaps we should be more concerned with Sephiroth's health."

"The man's walking and talking and brushed off Hewley's offer for a Curaga," Reno says. "If he wants to be bleeding internally, that's his problem - all we need to do is get him out of Midgar."

"And then keep a watch over him in Wutai."

"Yes, and that, but nowhere does it say we need to nurse him into health too," Reno says. "Just get him and Hewley in the air and out of here before Hojo realises he's leaving."

"Hn," Rude answers, not looking away from Hewley and Sephiroth and not relaxing until they finally approach the helicopter and Hewley stoves away their blades.

Rude has seen Sephiroth personally a number of times - they often serve together as bodyguards for the President, Rude sent in by the Turks and Sephiroth called upon by the President, because the SOLDIER looks good in papers. So most of the times Rude has seen him had been him being annoyed, resigned, and bored.

The Sephiroth that awkwardly enters the helicopter looks a little queasy and embarrassed - but also excited.

Hewley hands Sephiroth a headset and pulls another one on himself. "Are you sure you're feeling alright?" He says over the headset.

"I'm fine, Angeal - I promise I don't have internal bleeding," Sephiroth answers, indulgent and looks around. "... There isn't a seatbelt in here, is there?"

"What's a seatbelt? No, never mind," Hewley sighs, sounding a little exasperated. "Sephiroth, you threw up blood! That's not normal."

"Maybe I just bit my tongue and swallowed some blood before, it's fine -"

"Some blood - it was a lot of blood!"

"Barely even a litre -"

"A litre! Of blood! You would've had to have bitten your tongue clean off to swallow that much!"

Sephiroth sighs. "Angeal, I swear I didn't bite my tongue off -"

Well, he sounds fine, Rude decides, and after making sure the helicopter is secure and there's no one else on the pad, he takes off. "Phase two complete," he reports to Reno. "The big guy is off the building."

"Sweet," Reno says. "I'm off then - meet you at the airport."

"Roger that," Rude agrees, bringing the helicopter above the Shinra Building and then turning it towards the airport. Below them the city whirls around, its lights leaving streaks in Rude's vision.

The bickering in the backseat takes a pause as Sephiroth peers outside in apparent amazement. Then Hewley continues to poke and prod at the man, and Rude pretends to tune them out - all the while listening to every word. Mostly it's Sephiroth trying to convince Hewley that he isn't in some kind of acute organ failure or about to hack out a lung. Hewley isn't very convinced.

"You're very nonchalant about this," Hewley says dubiously. 

"Trust me, it was bad blood, it's better out than in," Sephiroth answers, craning his neck to look down through the window. "Oh wow…"

"Bad blood. That's what you said to Hojo," Hewley points out. "Like it actually means something. What do you mean by bad blood?"

Sephiroth doesn't answer, pretending to be utterly preoccupied by the view.

Hewley sighs. "Sephiroth, please. I'm really concerned - if there's something wrong, you should tell us -"

That makes the other SOLDIER react. "Oh, please, spare me the power of friendship speech -"

"I absolutely will not," Hewley snorts. "If it's the only thing that gets you to talk about this, I'll even throw in sincere emotions."

Though jokingly said, it seems to be an effective threat, judging by Sephiroth's disgusted expression. "You're an evil man, Angeal."

"Yes, how dare I be worried about my friend, how utterly unforgivable. Now please tell me why you throwing up blood isn't a health concern."

Sephiroth sighs. "I… it's hard to explain."

"Because you don't know."

"No. Because the terminology doesn't exist," Sephiroth mutters and then sighs, looking outside again. "Before I was interrupted, I was attempting to, uh, align my internal energies properly, and repair some of the damage done to my system previously. It's a delicate process and can go horribly wrong if interrupted, which is exactly what happened. As a result of the interruption, my internal system went wildly out of alignment, which caused some issues. I fixed those after, as much as I could, and what I threw up was essentially… waste produced by the progress."

Rude wishes, not for the first time, that there was a way to record stuff said on board a helicopter. Thankfully, judging by Hewley's expression in the mirror, the man doesn't understand what Sephiroth is saying any better than he does.

"Internal energies - you mean your MP?"

"MP," Sephiroth repeats and hums thoughtfully. "That's part of it, I guess."

Hewley shakes his head. "So your… MP is out of alignment?"

He sounds confused, and Rude can't blame the man. He didn't know MP could even have an alignment.

Sephiroth is quiet for a moment, looking away. "Tell me, Angeal. What is MP? Where does it come from, where in your body does it reside  - how is it produced?"

"Uh. It's just an intrinsic quality people have? Which increases the more you use it - and with Mako exposure? I don't know, I guess I never thought about it," Angeal admits. "You'd have better luck asking Genesis."

"Hmm. Is he coming to Wutai?"

Hewley shakes his head. "I don't know, but there's no shortage of missions to be completed there. Still, Sephiroth. That was a lot of blood."

"I'm not throwing up blood now, am I?" Sephiroth says. "I'm fine, Angeal, I promise. Hopefully that was the worst of it."

Hewley doesn't look particularly reassured. "Hopefully?! Wait, you don't mean to say you're going to continue with this… alignment stuff?"

Sephiroth hums noncommittally and looks outside the window again. They're getting to the airport now.

Rude blows out a breath. "It's time to land," he informs his passengers and hopes Reno wouldn't take too long to catch up with them. Maybe he would have some idea what the hell Sephiroth is on about. If not, then he'd at least pretend he did.

Rude is with Hewley on this one, though. Sephiroth intending to continue with his alignment practice with the risk for further… misalignments… It didn't sound good.

Interesting though that Professor Hojo clearly had no idea what his son was doing either. Whatever it is, it isn't anything Shinra Science had figured out. Hmm.

Something to add to Sephiroth's file, Rude muses, and brings them to the ground.

[yandere-pleasure]

'ᴛᴀꜱᴛᴇ ᴛᴇꜱᴛ' | Yandere Dazai Osamu x Reader

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : ᴜꜱᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ - ᴋɪᴋᴜᴏ

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

↠ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ↺ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ ⊜ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Trigger Warnings: Nudity + Degrading + Gore References + Generally Fucked Up + Abuse

Reader: Gender Neutral

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

{ Prompt: Yandere Dazai Osamu x Reader │Bloody Taste Test }

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

"How Pitiful"

Twenty seven letters, strung together, for an unmerciful insult likewise threat all the same, legs crossed over one another, he sits on a throne, for you a cold ground, in bare skin, of yourself, however in the exposure, you could simply feel delirious sleep in wake of want. You didn't even care over the exhaustion you felt, whether it be the injuries lathered on your skin in love, the brutal nature this dehumanizing act has had in the imprint of your normalized mine or reality, you couldn't tell. You didn't bring your hands to your skin, in embarrassment, dread, nothing of the sort, they rested atop your thighs, as instructed. Back straight, sitting atop your legs, gaze turned down, to the way of a worshiping stance, in some way of a mock religion, it was humorous at the very least ironic, however you couldn't even muster an internal laugh at the thought. The way your ribs seemed to pull flush close to your lungs, felt a threat, beyond his hand of touch, a warning even beyond him, to follow closely.

Cruel words, yet a sweet touch, a graze against the cheek with a knife, and yet you could hardly even tell the difference, much less even muster a flinch. Coo, and awe for a brand new toy, for the spoiled child, how contradicting this bittersweet feeling, gazing longingly, yet disgustingly to a brutally mutilated dog, reduced to human waste, maggots, and flies probably preferred you, over than breathe anyone could possibly empathetically, in pity possess for you. A deep brown resides on our skin, known as the male's eyes, one hand rests on his knee, while the other leans on the arm rest, allowing him to rest his face into his hand, a coy smile by a defaultive nature, held on his lips, a hanging man, does the silence stiffen. In the accessibility of time, you could feel the weight in your body, the bruises, the bones broken healed, then broken again out of some degree of punishable enjoyment for Dazai. You thought to count, to think back, how long had it been, what had even been your given name, besides the oh so endearing terms you were referred to as replacement. Bluntly it was all lost, had it been days? Weeks? Months? Maybe it was even years at this point, you couldn't figure, no wonder you were referred to as the broken watch, time really had alluded you in a punishment of a crime you never remembered of commiting. Carefully he walks, a delicate silver knife better referred to as a letter opener in hand, in bandaged hands he reaches for your left wrist, one slit from side to side, you pull back a wince at the tip of your tongue, softly he places your wrist back to your lap, reaching for the next, he commits the same act. You bleeding across your skin, in a blood disarray, the broken puzzle you felt.

"Do you taste yourself?"

Dazai stooped to your level, brown eyes gleaming, in a horrendous case of sick pleasure, in the hitch of your breath, the way your body tensed a little softly at his closeness, made the side of his face pulled to bare white. Bringing himself to one knee in front of you, one hand gripped your wrist pulling it to the starking ceiling lights, the red spiling against the sides of your arm, thus to the palm of his hand. He dug his fingers in your wound, enjoying the beat of your blood, gushing onto his skin, in the open array of him, his slender fingertips stain bloody, he reaches out to you, showing the crimson on his skin, fondly, with a twisted smile to churn your vision, in a grotesque state, of the vision of you.

"Care for a taste?"

As if he had commanded you, you stick your tongue out, ahead of the male, stopping ahead of his finger, as if for permission, knowing his twisted case of delivering of punishment, a weary way of carrying yourself began, in fear of his demeanor. Dazai gleams almost proudly, swiping his blood fingertips across the rough texture of your tongue, giving a nod of approval to taste the metallic substance. It tasted no different than anything else to you, it all sort of blurred in a mesh of hunger, there was no need for taste, what little, demeaning things, he had given you to feast. What traces remained he tasted for himself.

"Now then dear pet of mine, let's have a taste test, for comparison"

The terms sound endearing under different circumstances, pet, what an odd circumstance to debrief on pet names, comedic in its own sense, however it was no such case. Dazai motioned, and his order was already met, as if studied comparatively, the stench of blood, rot, and death hung heavy, in a small box, carried by two men, placed ahead of you. The dried blood on the sides showcased its belonging, yet you couldn't even muster disgust in your riddled, ruined body. Dazai crudely smiled, opening the small chest, you figured it'd be a small animal, however it was human. Crammed, in minced, ligaments, bathed, then stained in blood, that seemed, full of drunk, dead insects.

"Now lick it up like a good pet"

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Check Out My: Wattpad

❥ You get more content >:3

❥ Please support me with a like and a follow on either or both platform :,(

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

[wannaeatramyeon]

Ryuhei Kuroda with Unhinged F!Reader

Rabid attack dog? Please put this poor mutt down (Masterlist for others)

You don't generally have the chance to go overseas, the fewer international incidents you cause the better (you still wince recalling that one from a few years ago).

So hearing about the leader of Kagiroi being in Seoul did pique your interest. Oh? Someone that even got themselves onto the radar of the Shiro Oni? (Not that that meant much but you fondly think of his battered body anyway.)

Hmm, why not then. Your fists are itchy.

Besides, your list is thinning at an alarming rate. Your body warms thinking of adding another notch to your belt.

.

.

Ryuhei sees you on the street corner, smiliing sinisterly at him. He put a hand up to say he isn't interested in your services.

Although, someone like you is worth a second glance. Maybe even a third.

Despite his dismissal, you approach anyway. You peer at him from beneath your lashes as your hips sway towards him.

Your nails run along the wall, scratching and screeching your arrival.

"Ryuhei Kuroda," your pronunciation is perfect.

"Huh? You know me?" he questions in his native tongue.

"I know you need better taste in women."

.

.

The ground was littered with the remains of his weapon. Some wooden and steel monstrosity, shattered into a million pieces at the first opportunity.

"Be careful with that, it could do some real damage," you had goaded, as Ryuhei swung at you. It was useless, he didn't even come close to leaving a scratch.

He recalls your elation as you marked his body, over and over. The way you looked completely out of your mind, but never more in control of your movements - your eyes razor-sharp and laser-focused.

Is this what it feels like to be a ragdoll? Thrown around, beaten around like you're nothing?

Or is this what it feels like to be a mouse, helpless as you are pursued and chased and hunted.

.

.

The ringing in his ears never stops, and neither does the bleeding.

Oops, another one bites the dust.

Ryuhei kneels before you, head bowed in shame and defeat. His white coat in tatters.

Damn, that would have looked good on you as well.

Words spill out of his mouth, some snivelling about Neko and Mitsuki, and not being strong enough to protect her.

Oh right, that other idiot from Workers.

You frown. How dare he.

In the face of your opponent's defeat, you want their full attention on you.

"Hey," you give him a harsh slap, bringing him back to the present moment.

His eyes focus on yours, and all you can see is loathing. That's more like it.

"Let me show you what a real woman can do."

[munson-blurbs]

could you write about eddie and the reader suppose to be going out together but the reader thinks eddie stood them up but he got into a super bad car accident is in the hopsital and the reader doesn’t find out about it til a couple days later

I couldn't make reader wait too long because I couldn't do that to myself her, but I hope you like this! Sorry it took so long.

Warnings: car accident, mention of injuries, slight angst, some language

WC: 1.2k

--

Eddie was supposed to pick you up for your first date at 7:00 PM. You didn't expect him to show up on time; you'd been friends with him long enough to know that punctuality was not his forte, but he was now an hour and a half late. That was a lot, even for Eddie.

You dialed his phone number for the third time, listening to the ring until Wayne's recorded voice greets you.

You've reached Eddie and Wayne. Leave a message.

"Hey, Eds," you start. "It's me again. Just wondering if you were on your way, or if you forgot about...anyway, call me back when you get this." You hang up the phone, tears prickling in your eyes.

Maybe it was all a prank, or a stupid dare from one of the Hellfire guys. It made sense; why else would Eddie have asked you out after all this time? You'd been crushing on him for years.

You settle onto the couch, grabbing a bag of potato chips despite your appetite all but disappearing at the prospect of being the butt of their joke. You pick up the phone again, but you don't call Eddie this time.

"Henderson residence," Dustin's chipper voice perks you up briefly; the boy was always kind to you.

"Hi, Dustin," you say somberly, trying not to show how sad you truly are.

"Y/N? he asks, worry evident in his tone. "What's wrong? Aren't you supposed to be out with Eddie?"

You feel the tears slip down your cheeks as your emotions get the best of you. "He stood me up," you tell Dustin quietly. "Be honest with me, please--was this all a joke?"

"No. No, no no," he insists. "Eddie hasn't shut up about you or this date for ages. And he would never do that to you. The guy worships the ground you walk on."

You roll your eyes at his dramatics; carrying your books for you and kicking Gareth or Jeff out of the passenger seat of the van so you could sit there certainly was not worshipping the ground you walk on.

"Look," Dustin continues, "let me figure out what's going on. I'll call you as soon as I get info."

"Thanks," you croak out. "I really appreciate it."

"Of course," he says before hanging up with a click.

~

The phone ringing wakes you up from a dreamless sleep. You've passed out on the couch; the clock on the wall reads 2:37 AM. Who would be calling at this hour? Dustin was an intense kid, but even he would wait until the sun was up to call you back.

You snatch up the receiver before the bleating can wake your family. "H-hello?" you harshly whisper.

"Hi, is this Y/F/N Y/L/N?" an unfamiliar female voice comes over the line.

"Yeah? Who's this?" you question suspiciously. She didn't sound like a telemarketer or a crank caller.

"I'm Shelby, a nurse at Hawkins General Hospital," she explains. "Your friend, Edward Munson, was brought here earlier tonight after he was in a car accident." She pauses for a moment. "You were listed as an emergency contact on some previous paperwork he'd filled out the last time he was here."

You remember that; he'd broken his ankle last year while jumping off of the stage at the Hideout. Since Wayne was at work, he'd put down your name and number.

"Car accident?" you sputter, sitting up quickly. You're suddenly wide awake. "Is he okay?"

"He is now," she tells you gently. "His car was hit head-on by someone driving the wrong way, and it flipped. The paramedics had to cut him out of his seatbelt."

Your throat is dry and you feel your stomach lurch. "Oh my God," you whisper.

"We're still waiting on the scan results to ensure there's no internal bleeding," Shelby continues, "but he's awake now, which is a good sign. Keeps asking for you."

Your heart melts at this. "I'll be right there," you tell her earnestly. You technically weren't supposed to take the car without your parents' permission, but they would make an exception for this circumstance.

The drive there seems to take an eternity, and you run into the emergency room as soon as you kill the engine.

"I'm here to see Eddie--Edward--Munson?" you tell the receptionist, panting from your sprint. "I'm his emergency contact." You give her your name, and she nods.

"He's in room 110," she informs you, pointing down a quiet hallway. You quickly find his room, knocking gently at the already open door.

"Tryin' to sleep," Eddie's groggy voice floats by, thinking it's another nurse dropping by to take his vitals yet again.

"Eds," you say softly, "it's me."

His eyes widen as he unsuccessfully tries to push himself up on the bed. He winces at the pain and slumps back down.

"Don't get up," you tell him, pulling the armchair over to his bedside. You take his hand in yours, mindful of the IV needle taped to the back. A brace collars his neck and his left arm is wrapped in a sling. Bruises are forming around his eyes, and scratches mar his cheeks and forehead. "What happened?" you ask, rubbing your thumb along his.

He grimaces as he tries to look into your eyes, momentarily forgetting about his neck brace. "I was driving down Miller Road and this asshole comes barreling down, smashing into the van and sending it flying." He exhales, resting his good arm around his aching ribs. "Stupid schmuck didn't even stop. Someone else ran into a nearby store and called 9-1-1."

"I'm just glad you're alive," you murmur, gently placing a kiss on his cheek. "But wait," you pause, "why were you driving down Miller? You don't need to go that way to get to my house."

Eddie manages a small laugh. "Yeah, but I needed to go that way to get to the florist," he admits. "Wayne told me that if I waited all this time to take you out and didn't even bother to bring you flowers, he would smack me with my own guitar."

You giggle at the thought of Wayne threatening his nephew. "Knew that man was a romantic at heart."

"Nah, he just didn't want me to mess things up with the girl of my dreams." A blush creeps into his scarred face.

"Well," you sigh, looking around the room, "this wasn't exactly what I pictured for our first date, but it'll do." You stand up and release his hand. "Give me a sec, okay?"

"Where are y--" but he can't finish his thought before you dash out of the room, returning 15 minutes later with an armful of treats from the hospital cafeteria.

"All right," you start, placing the food on the table next to him, "we've got some sandwiches, pretzels, potato chips, and apple juice. Oh," you remember, "and this." You hand him a plastic container with a piece of chocolate cake. "The cashier said it's the best thing there, although he may have just been trying to get rid of me."

You fiddle with the radio until you find something resembling smooth jazz. Eddie wrinkles his nose. "What the hell is this?"

"It's mood music," you tease. "Did you think we were gonna listen to metal on our first date?"

Eddie chuckles lightly, careful of his sore body. "I'd listen to anything as long as I'm with you."

Your face lights up. "Even--"

"Not Madonna!"

--

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Genuine question and I'm seriously not trying to shame here but from the perspective of someone who writes rpf, don't you think that would make Chris and Seb really uncomfortable? Like look obviously the chance of them seeing it are zero to none right, but they're still real people, you know? They cant consent to being written into that type of content and I cant imagine how uncomfortable it would be to know there is content like that out there about you and your coworker/friends.

And maybe theres something I'm missing out on here but do you see where I'm coming from? Honestly like, seriously, honestly I'm not hating, I love a lot of your work. I guess I'm just asking what the thoughts behind it are?

Hey,

I feel like that's a fair question, yeah. And as someone who's active in the kink community in real life, I can assure you that I am very aware of consent and boundaries, so I see that side, too.

I get the ethics/non-ethics of real person fanfiction, I really do.

Further, I have had my own internal debates about RPF. I don't recall exactly what I thought when I first discovered RPF, but I know I didn't get it right away and steered myself away from it for a bit. Eventually, though... I started to understand what it was all about, and I began to think I the way I do now.

To me, it's fanfiction, and I am acutely aware of both of those things that make up that word. It's for the fans. It's fictional. I can hold both of those understandings at the same time as participating in fandom.

(That wording makes it sound like I feel as though I am holier than thou, but that's not what I mean. I really am just speaking from my own perspective. I have no idea if everyone in the fandom can relate or no one can, lol.)

As being for the fans--it is not supposed to cross the boundary of bleeding into real life and being shown to the people who it's about or the characters that they play. I follow that rule strictly. I have no interest in showing fanfiction to the people it's about or even heckling them about it. That's a boundary I will respect and actively defend. (Especially now considering that Chris is married and Seb is in a serious relationship. I will never condone people being mean to their real-life partners just because it threatens their ships.)

And the few times I've had someone ask me if they could send my writing in the direction of who it's about (I can't find any exact examples right now, thanks Tumblr search system, ugh, so you'll just have to trust me, lol), I always have a little panic and go on a (hopefully polite) rant to say NO!! PLEASE DON'T FUCKING DO THAT! THAT IS NOT WHAT MY WRITING IS FOR! Trying my hardest to explain why. The why is as you say--the people haven't consented to that.

Now, yes, I have a work (titled "Character Bleed") that plays into the fantasy of Sebastian stumbling onto stucky fanfiction and getting into it with Chris, but that's just it, it's fantasy. I have a disclaimer before the fic begins about that. Do. not. share. this. with. the. actors.

However, I feel the same way about my writing that I do about porn, generally. Porn is a fantasy. Porn is not the real world. Porn can often not (or should not) be extrapolated out into real life. And adults who consume porn have a responsibility to understand that. There is a difference between fantasy and how social scripts work.

(To some degree, it's like how you may think about a porn actor--you have all this connection to them in your fantasy world, but if you were to see them in real life, you don't have permission to do or say anything to them that's inappropriate. Obviously, porn actors concent to being someone's fantasy in a way actors don't, unless they're in sex scenes even that isn't the same, but it's similar enough for this discussion.)

As for it being fictional--it isn't real. Clearly, lol. I've already kind of talked about that, but to further go on:

To me, it is obvious that it's not real. I don't know the people I write about, and I know that well. The pseudo relationship that exists is one-sided and barely skin-deep.

Also, personally, I don't actually believe in my heart that evanstan, for example, are together or that shit went down between them. Sure, their chemistry together is undeniable, but that doesn't mean anything. They're coworkers and friends. And the same can be said for a million other real life people that're shipped together.

If I were ever to meet either of them, Sebastian or Chris, I wouldn't act familiar with them. I use their public personas like characters, I know. I know how that can be looked at as unethical or problematic. But I can realize at the same time that I know nothing of them really.

I hate to call people out, but I once saw a clip of someone calling Sebastian "sweetie" and telling him to finish his food in a jokey yet dominant-ish way, and... yikes. I just. I know it's a fandom joke that I even propogate, that Sebastian's a sub, but that makes me cringe. You don't know him, and that's a friendship-to-a-romantic-partner boundary to cross. Please don't. I'm sure being starstruck and flustered plays a part, but, again, you don't know him.

So, my blabbering aside, I think that's what I come down to with my RPF feelings--admittance and understanding that I don't know these people. I don't claim to. I enjoy the parts of them I see, and I play up those parts to tell stories surrounding them, like playing with dolls. I probably shouldn't, but because I also know that, I try to keep it to myself and this community the best I can. Fandoms often get a bad wrap for being crazed and not knowing boundaries, but they're not all like that. We can be contained and appropriate within limits.

Hopefully, some of that was understandable? I don't know, I think I just... rambled? 🤷🏻‍♂️

[skyrim-forever]

Day 5: Gentle

A/N: Hey everyone! This entry will include pregnancy, totally understand if that's not your thing and you want to skip. But if you're interested Theodora goes to see Danica Pure-Spring due to what she thinks to be her years of fighting catching up to her. This one kind of got away from me and it's 1600 words XD Tagging @tes-summer-fest

The journey to Morrowind had proven to be more difficult than she anticipated. On paper it seemed straightforward, get to Windhelm and take the Northern Maiden. Whiterun had only been meant to be a quick stop on the way there, however as she got closer to the city her health began to fail. First was general exhaustion, even riding on horseback was tiring and then she lost her appetite. The mere smell of food was enough to make her vomit. Perhaps the battle with Alduin had left her more damaged than she initially thought, or if it was the years of fighting that had finally caught up to her. Theodora knew that she’d never make it to Solstheim in this state, let alone face whatever was waiting for her there. 

Praise be to Kynareth for having a temple in the city. She regretted not seeing Danica sooner. 

“Hello Dragonborn, what brings you to the Temple today?”

“Hi Danica, I’m not feeling well. I was wondering if I have some old injuries that are causing problems.” 

“I see.” The Priestess gestures for her to follow her, leading her to a bench tucked away from the main hall. “Can you please describe what you have been experiencing ?” Theodora takes a breath, the exhaustion is beginning to hit. 

“Well, I find I’m getting tired much easier, I can’t do the same amount of travel as I could even a few weeks ago. And Divines, even the smell of food makes me nauseous.  I’m wondering if I have an internal injury, I haven’t gotten proper medical treatment for quite some time now so I wouldn’t be surprised if something is much more damaged than I originally thought..” She lightly laughs “I’m not great at recovery.”  Danica nods along as she speaks. 

“Have you noticed any changes in your body? Perhaps needing to relieve yourself more often?”

“Yes! I’m up every two hours at night. I had forgotten about that, just thought I was just starting to get older.” 

“Hmmmm. When was your last bleed?” 

“My, um” Theodora stops mid-sentence, surely Danica wasn’t implying that she was…? Anxiety starts building inside of her. Relax, she is just trying to cover everything. “I don’t remember. I figured it was all the stress keeping it away.”

“I see.” The two women sit in silence for a moment, tears begin to well up in her eyes as the gravity of the situation sets in. Pregnant the word repeats over and over in her mind.  

“It is okay Theodora.” The Priestess holds her hands in hers. “There are treatments available if you need them.”

“Thank you, could I have a little time to myself. I need to think before I decide anything.”

“Of course, I’ll be over there when you need me.”

The tears came out in full force, snot coming from her nose, and loud sobs. Why wasn’t I more careful? You stupid bitch how could you let this happen? She wasn’t fit to be a mother, what did she even know about mothers? There was the threat of Solstheim to deal with, how could she do that with a child? While pregnant? Then came the thoughts of what if the baby looks more like Ondolemar than me?What kind of place is this for a half Imperial half Altmer child? She lays her head back against the paneling of the Temple, eyes shut in an attempt to stop crying. 

The thoughts then begin to morph, perhaps it is not all bad. She may never see Ondolemar again, but she could still have a small piece of him. He wasn’t really gone now, there’d be proof of their time together. And maybe that was enough. She had been praying to Akatosh for something, anything to help her keep going. Maybe the Divines were not so cruel after all. She could do with her child what she wished her mother had gotten to do with her. She’d tell them they were born of love, that they could do anything, they’d be the Dragonborn’s child. And no matter what, that fact would give them protection. She had more than enough money and Theodora had been looking for what to do with the rest of her life. Being Thane in nearly every hold had proven not to be as glamorous as it originally sounded. She is torn. 

Returning to the main temple hall, she speaks to Danica.

“I’m going to need a few days to think about it.”

“Absolutely, think it through. Whatever you decide, the choice is fully yours.”

“Thank you, Danica, truly thank you.”

She spends the night at the Bannered Mare staring at the ceiling and thinking through every possible scenario. She could go into hiding, maybe even move back to Cyrodiil or as far as the coast of High Rock. raise the child somewhere no one knew her, maybe in a large city so seeing a mixed child wouldn’t be out of the ordinary. But could she leave the friends she did have here? She was sure Camilla would understand, she was the only one who knew about her relationship with Ondolemar. Wanting kids herself, Theodora couldn’t imagine her thinking less of her. All her thoughts seemed to involve how to have the baby, not if she should. Maybe that was a sign enough. Eventually her eyes grow heavy and sleep overtakes her. 

Dreams were normal for Theodora, mainly nightmares, but dreaming has become a place of old memories. In her dreams her father and Uncle Elo still breathe. Aunt Rhiannon still smiles. They were all still at the house in Anvil, and sometimes even the city itself was thriving, flourishing as it was when her father was young. This was one such dream. She is in the kitchen when she hears a baby’s crying coming from upstairs. Instinctively, she follows it. Through the house’s winding hallways she grows closer to the source of the sound, now hearing a woman’s voice.

“Shhhhhh, it’s okay, shhhhhh.” It’s coming from the storage room, the one that had been beside her room. The door is partially cracked open, a sliver of sunlight shines on the dark hardwood. When she opens the door fully, a woman is there. She looks like her paintings, long curly dark hair, warm skin, wearing a long white dress and brown belts. Everything is the same save for the grey streaks in her hair that she never got to grow in life. Before Theodora can stop it, a word she’s never uttered leaves her mouth. 

“Mom?” Kassandra turns to her, clutching a small golden bundle in her arms.

“Sweetheart, I’m just trying to calm him down, he woke up from his nap early.” She rocks the baby softly. “I think he wants his mama.” Theodora’s arms open naturally and her mother places the baby, him, in her arms. 

“Here, support his head like this. Be gentle.” She takes her hand and adjusts it behind his head. “Good, good, you got it.” She can see him better now, his small pointy ears and brown eyes. She takes a brief glance up, brown like her mother’s eyes. “Oh isn’t he sweet? You’re so lucky.”

“I am.” She rocks him slowly. “But mom I’m scared.” Tears start coming out of her and her mother wraps her arms around her. 

“I know dear, I know. But you’ll be okay. You can do this, you have done so many hard things.”

“But what if…” Kassandra stops her mid-sentence. 

“Don’t worry about what ifs, you can’t predict what will happen. What do you want?” Amidst the tears Theodora looks down, back at her son. His crying has ceased and he smiles at her. 

“I want him.”

A crash of thunder jolts her awake, as her hands touch her face she feels tears, she had actually been crying. It was not just a dream. Never before had she dreamt of her mother, let alone talked to her. As more tears come, this time of joy, she feels healed. The little girl in her who never got to cry to her mom finally got her mother’s advice. Though she did not know through which mechanisms had made it possible, she knew that was in fact her mother she spoke to. And if her mother believed in, she could. 

Seemingly having forgotten what time it was, Theodora rushed to the Temple. With a swift knock on the door, Danica answers. 

“I’m keeping it.”

“Congratulations.” Danica rubbed her face and smiled at her. “You’ll have to be gentle with yourself these next few months. Based on your symptoms I suspect you’re around 6 weeks.” She takes a piece of parchment and writes something down before handing it to Theodora. 

“You’ll want to start taking these herbs, they will help you with tolerating food. Once you’re six months along take these ones.” She points to a small list of plants, some of which Theodora had never heard of. “They’ll help prepare you for birth.”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome. Oh, and no more drinking. Not until you’ve finished breastfeeding.” Oh that’s right she thought, pregnant women famously can’t drink. She hadn’t been sober for longer than a few days since she was a teen, this was going to be a challenge. 

“Alright, I understand.”

There is life back in her, both figuratively and literally. Deciding to still go to Morrowind, she figures it would be best to be pregnant away from prying eyes. She has a few  months still to make progress on the Miraak issue. Perhaps it was naive to think she could still adventure pregnant but Theodora already felt stronger. She has someone to be strong for.  

[thoselethalarts]

ℙ𝕙𝕠𝕓𝕠𝕤 𝔹𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕣 - ℙ𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕝 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪

(SR) Lab Coats (Part 1): "It’d Make This Exchange a Lot Less Fun."

(NRC: Library)

Phobos: Different types of poisons affect the body in different ways. Phobos: Some of them work through the nervous system... attacking the body’s nerves, causing muscles to seize, the brain to fry, and the heart to stop beating. Phobos: Others work through the circulatory system, causing the blood to coagulate within the veins and cause internal congestion. The victim is likely to die of a stroke or heart attack through this methodology. Phobos: Still, others are more corrosive. They eat away at the internals of the victim, dissolving muscle and flesh, causing internal hemorrhaging and decay. The victim is more likely to bleed out when they can’t stop the corrosion. Phobos: With that in mind, the real question is… what of these methods are capable of being replicated without the actual presence of poison? Phobos: Coagulation and nervous attack, possibly, though I doubt corrosion would be… Unless somehow the body could be forced to produce more powerful stomach acid, maybe. Hm…

Rook: What plans are circling your mind, Monsieur Malicieux?

Phobos: -! I don’t like that you could sneak up on me like that.

Rook: Even a novice hunter always knows how to silence his footsteps when stalking his prey~ Rook: Oya… are you studying poisons?

Phobos: None of your business, leave me alone.

Rook: Ooh la la, but if this is part of your studies, I could be more than a worthy partner in your quest for knowledge! Rook: As a member of the science club, and vice dorm head of Pomefiore, poisons are something I have a great deal of confidence in knowing.

Phobos: …I’m not studying poisons. I’m studying biology.

Rook: Even better! As a hunter of hearts and beasts I do have keen knowledge in biology as well-

Phobos: I didn’t ask for your input! I told you, I’m fine! Phobos: Tch... If you’re so adamant to butt into my business and leap into the jaws of death, then fine. How about you be my "lab partner" then?

Rook: Gladly! I'd be more than happy to assist you with whatever you need. I've always wanted to spend more time with you~

(Phobos rips a piece of paper from his notebook and begins scribbling something down upon the page.)

Rook: Hmm? Is that poetry you’re composing? Rook: “Cursed eyes gazing upon this page-”

Phobos: Rule number one: Don’t read this out loud.

Rook: Oh?

Phobos: Rule number two: Don’t read this until I’m finished writing this. Phobos: Rule number three: When you’re finished reading this, give it back to me immediately. Phobos: Rule number four: Report to me everything you felt after reading this note. Phobos: If you’re gonna keep annoying me, these are the rules you’ll be following for our experiment. You will ask no questions, and you’ll tell no souls about what we did today. Got it?

Rook: Oui. I’m now very much intrigued to see where your plans lie~

Phobos: Hmph… Here. Now you can read it. Silently.

Rook: Very well. Let me see~ Rook: ………?! A-Ah… what is…?

Phobos: Finished?

Rook: Oui, my… my heart is…? Rook: Haah… what a fascinating sensation.

Phobos: Rule number four, Rook. Status report.

Rook: Hmmh… I could… feel my heart palpitate with strain, every muscle in my chest tightening like a vice, before very gently and suddenly releasing. Rook: Like the claws of a beast had torn its way through my ribs and clenched my very heart within my chest… before quietly granting mercy and releasing its grip… Rook: W-What a powerful reaction. Your prose shook me to my core, stronger than any poison I’d ever experienced before. That was… exhilarating~

Phobos: Keep that part to yourself. I don't need to hear it. Phobos: But, that all but confirmed my suspicions in one regard... Phobos: Poison doesn’t need to even attack the human nervous system, it just needs to command the nerves to do what it wants… to turn the body against itself and go in for the kill. Phobos: Generally speaking, poisons use chemical compounds to command the body to do its bidding. The chemicals don’t need to be present for the reaction to occur, as long as the body can generate the end result needed on their own. Phobos: Chemicals are words; words command the body to self-immolate… Perfect. Phobos: Alright, guinea pig, you’re dismissed.

Rook: Oui~ I look forward to helping you with your studies again, Monsieur Malicieux~

(Rook walks away, footsteps heavy and unsteady.)

Phobos: Hmph… Not exactly happy with someone having an insight to my power and walking away scott-free, but it’s hard to say no to a willing guinea pig. Phobos: A stupid, willing victim… The easiest toy to play with the inner mechanisms of. Phobos: Heh… Heheheh… Keep jumping into the jaws of death, little mouse. I can’t wait to tear you apart, piece by piece.

/ To be continued…

[smallearthboundfindings]

Requesting another Ness for the game cuz I've got the feeling you'll implode if you can't share more of your word doc.

Alright! Sorry this took a while to respond to, but, hey these do take a while to type out. (Also, Tumblr deleted part of this post once and I got upset, okay?)

How about how I interpret his character growth? A little of this did bleed into the PSI/homesickness post, but this one will be a greater look into how I believe he grew. Under the read more because this is and I kid you not, like, one thousand words long.

My interpretation of Ness is that he always wanted to be part of an adventure. That's why he was so nosy to immediately check out the meteor and mind you, him being this adventurous is recurring by his mom's line: "Ness, you don't seem scared. Are you nuts? And now you want to go check it out? ..oh …okay. You'll sneak out of your room anyway, even if I asked you not to." which implies he has pulled similar stunts multiple times.

Now I imagine that after the residents near Mt. Itoi likely saw Giegue's very large mothership leave and three kids (Ninten, Ana, and Lloyd) come down the summit not shortly after, they put two and two together and made a few news reports on the kids that might have just saved the world. Years after and most certainly not during the events of EBB or Ness would've been a literal infant, Ness hears of this news, eventually coming to admire Ninten as a role model. They even had similar hats! He wanted to save the world just like that one day…

Sidenote: The exact level of admiration is variable depending on how closely I decide they are related, but the point still stands. See, because PSI can be passed on genetically, because Ness had PSI from birth due to his flashback telekinesis, and because Ninten and Ness look similar, I headcanon that they have some common link to George in their family tree as cousins, but when across the three generations where this could have split, I have not decided. Though Ness could have gotten the news more directly and be more impacted by them if he and Ninten are closer cousins.

Now, given that, once Ness got news that he was prophesied to do exactly what he wanted to do, he was over the moon! He wasn't really taking it seriously at all because there was little to no threat and even when there was with Starman Jr., Buzz Buzz would just trivialize the fight on Ness's side, making him see it as more of a game until Buzz Buzz's death. Now, it's clear that Ness internalized that in some way due to the tombstone for him in his Magicant, but I don't think it set him off too much if you recall fun facts like homesickness not affecting him until approximately when he leaves Onett and also because he literally just met Buzz Buzz. He was just like, oh, this isn't that bad… Sure, maybe Titanic Ant makes him realize he might be in actual danger, but he doesn't realize others are until Twoson.

This is where the problems start.

After receiving Paula's telepathic messages and then actually saving her, he realizes that other people's fate do depend on him. And this is where the self doubt starts… Not only that, but if you recall how Ness first saw the Mani Mani Statue in Onett, this is when it's able to start influencing him by my theory. And yes, due to Ness's Nightmare, yes, the Mani Mani Statue was absolutely trying to fight for control of Ness's mind the whole time, it's just that Ness's mental fortitude was stronger than it, but these self doubts are what allowed it to stay up until Fire Spring.

Fun Fact: if you speak to other Ness in Magicant, when other Ness returns his hat to player Ness but player Ness has a full inventory, other Ness'll harp on himself for being forgetful, so yes, Ness can be a little hard on himself. (I'll put up a screenshot when I replay the game because it is at a very far away point in the game and rare dialogue that I can't just look up.)

He starts missing his family, realizing he was way over his head, realizing that people could die if he wasn't careful. And, goodness, bless his sweet little heart, his sentimental personality simply could not let anything bad happen that he could avoid. And this added pressure upon pressure as he made new friends he had to watch out for and protect. And I'll put these lines here again because I didn't transcribe them for nothing and I love them. Here's what Ness had to say in Lumine Hall that proves how concerned he is for everyone at this part of the game.

"I'm Ness…. It's been a long road getting here… Soon, I'll be… Soon, I'll be… Soon, I'll be… What will happen to us? W…what's happening? My thoughts are being written out on the wall… or are they?"

"What will happen to us?". That is the line.

He fears for him and he fears for his friends at this point by the usage of "us".

Another tidbit from Magicant is him speaking to his younger self and yet declining things he's known to love like baseball because he's "busy". At this point, he's really stopping at nothing for the world, but yet, younger Ness seems so disillusioned by this, almost like this is the life current Ness wants to return to.

He wants to go back to a normal life, but he can't at this point. Because he knows what he must do: for the world, for himself, for his friends. He'll live on with the strong hope and stubborn optimism within him, and in the end come back stronger and more courageous by defeating the doubts within him trapped by the Mani Mani Statue's influence.

[minnophee-writes]

My Masterlist~

This is my Masterlist where I post my fics! I originally had another writing blog but that was before I realised about Tumblr's side blog option thingy. I'm a 25 year old hobby fanfic writer in my free time, as well as an artist. I'd love to connect and talk to more adults in the fandoms I'm a part of and would love to even write some fanfics in honour of some of my favourite fic writers <3

Some fanfics will be explicit and/or have dark themes, therefore I do not allow minors to read any of my works. Age in bio or get blocked. I'm not messing around. Do not follow, like, reblog or interact with my works or myself if you are a minor - please and thank you.

I should also note that I do not write, and will never write, fics that involve; incest, underage, homophobia, transphobia, and beastiality. Those are a hard NO, do not request any fics with those or you will also be immediately blocked from my blog.

Here is the list of fandoms I write for, and who I write within those fandoms: Fandom List

Key Guide: Smut (🔥) Fluff (🌸) Angst (💔) || Dark (😈)

~~~~~~~~

Avengers

Bucky Barnes

Right Where You Were Meant To Be 🌸💔 (one-shot) Summary: Reader has a crush on Bucky the second she looked at him but she also has feelings of self-consciousness about her body and doubts she’d ever end up with Bucky or any guy like Bucky. That all changes one night at one of Tony’s parties.

Texas Chainsaw Massacre

Johnny Sawyer

My Little Crybaby~ 😈 (series) Summary: Reader finds themselves waking and tied up in some sort of basement with a few of their friends and trying to escape. Death follows them but once they look death in the eyes maybe they might have an internal moral compass crisis.

Dead by Daylight

Ghostface

No One Escapes Death... 😈🔥 (one-shot) Summary: Screams echoed all around Penelope as she tried to work on repairing generators and helping her fellow teammates from being strung up on hooks like some sort of sick trophy. One by one her friends are slaughtered viciously; multiple, deep knife wound bleeding from the tops of their backs, and a river of fluids leaking from their mouths. When Penelope becomes the last survivor standing its a scramble to find the hatch before getting caught by the killer, but he's got better plans in store for her~

Pyramid Head

His Judgement 😈🔥💔 (one-shot) Summary: When things go from bad to worse during a trial against the Executioner, Reader finds herself standing face-to-face with the large killer himself, ready to accept whatever judgement he deems fit to bestow upon her. However the situation doesn't seem to go as she suspected.

The Purge

Leo Barnes

Safe and Sound 😈🔥(part 1) Summary: When you're trying to bunker down in your poorly barricaded house with your young 8-year-old son it doesn't go to plan. A gang of unruly criminals come breaking into your home and you're forced to take your son and flee down the street toward your brother's apartment. On your journey there you're corralled into an alleyway, certain of death, but then a lone saviour comes to your aid.

Horizon: Zero Dawn

Aloy

Little Miracle 🌸 (headcannon) Summary: Varl and Aloy have been trying for a baby and haven't had much luck. That all changes when Varl goes on a hunting trip and Aloy gets sick.

Original Stories/Works

For Science~ 🔥 (one-shot) [Zonnu x m!reader] Summary: Reader finds himself in an unfamiliar room when he wakes up. He ventures to find someone for help and stumbles upon an alien life-form, Zonnu. She’s very interested to know how the human male anatomy works when sexually stimulated.

Faith, Trust and Pixie Dust~ 🔥 (one-shot) [Mars x Felix] Summary: Mars begs Felix to use some of his fairy dust on his cock during sex, they find out the outcome.

I will be updating this when I can add more stuff to this as a navigation point for this blog <3 Please be patient while I set everything up uwu

[skloomdumpster]

Sincere question, not to inspire hate or anything, just general curiosity. I saw you mentioned you didn’t care much for Musa, why? I don’t like her either but just wanted to know cause she’s a popular character but I only think she’s popular because of Rivusa

Sup nonny!

the tl;dr Musa gets praise where others characters get shit, for the exact same actions. Musa gets to be selfish and it's "empowering", while Bloom does the same and is, well, "selfish"; Musa gets to be rude and be called "sassy", where Stella is "a bitch"; Musa gets to be sick and tired of her powers and whine about them, while Terra display one insecurity too many and is called "whiny"; Musa gets to be closed off with her emotions and is given a rich internal monologue, while Aisha is closed off and written off as a robot.

Musa gets away with a lot, both via fandom and via writers. Even when her actions face consequences - the arc with using her powers on Sam - she turns it around on "my magic is bad and I'm evil", which is a clear extrapolation from the natural conclusion of that. Then, since obviously that's an extrapolation, we're supposed to sympathize with her and feel bad when she says it. How could she have arrived at such a conclusion??

Well, maybe if her take away from "I used magic on my boyfriend and friends to not deal with their emotions, because I never assimilated my powers or my grief/emotions" was "I should learn my magic" and then she failed, then I would empathize with her.

What actually happens is "I used magic on my boyfriend and friends to not deal with their emotions, because I never assimilated my powers or my grief/emotions" therefore "my magic is bad and I'm an evil person, I should give it all up."

??? HOW could I empathize with this? What reasons have you given to care about your character? What have you done, since season 1 that somehow justifies me giving a iota of fuck about this?

And what's more important, none of these traits or moments listed would be bad if it wasn't for the insistence of the writers that they're actually praise worthy moments.

Go girlboss Musa who broadcasts Terra's insecurities in a crowded room in s1! Go girlboss Musa who respects no boundaries and promptly reads Riven's mind in s1 and we're somehow supposed to side with her, not with him when he lashes out! Go girlboss Musa who refuses to try using her powers to save her boyfriend and somehow, for SOME REASON, Terra is all "I understand your trauma" while her brother is literally bleeding out! Yay for standing up for yourself! A+++ for refusing to learn a single thing about your magic when Rosalind tries, in a somehow civil manner even, to teach her in s2! Hell yeah Musa, use your magic to avoid dealing with anyone's emotions and then don't even say you're sorry for basically driving Sam into domestic terrorist mindset! Make it about your romantic relationship and your magic, not your insane lack of boundaries, go queen! How dare Terra be pissed at Musa after her brother has to leave school as a direct consequence of all this! Terra why are you soooo overbearing!

All of this, btw, is the show saying. It's not even the fans, that's what the show does.

Then... You add in the fans. Who write a Musa who's gentle, sassy, daring, powerful and a sex goddess.

Well, to quote Mariah Carey:

(believe it or not, this IS the summarized version)

[agentark]

Tell me about your Detective(s)!!!

Their romances, bff, whether they are shy or bold?

(also. Gimme gimme some references. 🕵🏼)

I fear that you are about to start discovering that I am the most indecisive person on the planet and the fact that I ever made it past the very first decision in book 1 is a miracle itself

But thank you for asking!! because I also love to talk 😈

I currently have 3 detectives (kind of, two of them are *this* close to being sent back to my lil sandbox)

Rose (Rosie) Palmer:

Rose is my favorite and actually both my Nate/Mason detective (She was my first detective and I did Nate's route first, but when I started Mason's next I was like.............I don't want to make anyone new, I love her). In Nate's route, Mason is the bff and in Mason's, it's Nate lol I just love them too much. Despite being an only child, she's what I call the Big Sister Friend, because she'll "bully" you mercilessly then turn around and defend you within an inch of her life from anyone else who even thinks about hurting you. (as a big sister, I feel qualified to bestow this title upon her) Her top two professional skills are Science and Deduction. She's bold until someone (Mason) calls her bluff.

She's *mostly* the same in both routes, but somehow in Mason's, I never got a skill above 70 in book 2, so I assume that's why she kept getting the shit kicked out of her in book 3. She's definitely a people pleaser, "no I'm fine!" (screaming internally) type gal. So her relationship w/ Rebecca is like, right in the middle because she's like "yeah sure whatever" while clenching her teeth, just to avoid an argument. There's a lot of anger simmering just below the surface, but she doesn't want to take it out on anyone. And she's a lot like Adam in that she's going to (and wants to) be the decision maker, so when it all goes to hell, it's on her. She's going to worry about everyone else before herself and soon she is going to come apart at the seams. Overall, she has a strong sense of duty, cares a lot, and is funnier than me. Her true bestie is actually the legend, Vieno. I don't have any good visual references of her yet because frankly this is the first time I've ever let my detectives exist outside of my own head, but please accept this offering of a song from my wayhaven playlist (update: oops just kidding now they're real and viewable) Rose: "You First" by Paramore, "King" by Florence + The Machine Nate x Rose: "Midnight Rain" by Taylor Swift, "Can't Take My Eyes off You" by Frankie Valli Mason x Rosie: "Bleed Magic" by idkhow, "Work Song" by Hozier (bonus: "Cruel Summer" by Taylor Swift)

ok moving on

My Adam detective got an actual non-generic name 3 seconds ago, because like I said, indecisive🫠

Eleanor Drake

Eleanor is SO lonely and bitter, I want to hug her. She's a "rebellious youth" detective because she spent her teen years trying to do increasingly outlandish things, just trying to get her mom to notice her and maybe even have to come home. And now she's in love with Adam and playing the worst game of "He loves me, he loves me not" of all time. She's pretty by the book these days, her highest stats are combat and people, and she didn't encourage Tina or Verda to search for the truth, so she's LONELY lonely by book 3. Her bff is Felix!! She needs someone to lean on and brighten up this miserable existence I have crafted for her. Eleanor: "Motion Sickness" by Phoebe Bridgers, "Matilda" by Harry Styles Adam x Eleanor: "Dancing With Our Hands Tied" by Taylor Swift, "Heaven, Iowa" by Fall Out Boy

Barbara (Barbie) Cooper

This is my newest Felix detective (I had another but we were not vibing). She is sunshine personified and her name is Barbie because I created her the same day of the Barbie trailer drop. Her top skills are People and Deduction, she's so bright and enthusiastic that Adam constantly feels like wearing his sunglasses around her, yet they're also besties. She's very good at playing mediator when clashing opinions arise. She's the type to do things properly right up until someone she loves is in trouble, and then she'll break all the rules without thought. She has a good relationship with Rebecca, but I kinda want to start destroying it with every secret Rebecca reveals..... She's also a WIP that may need to be reworked idk Barbie: "Choreomania" by Florence + the Machine, "Last Hope" by Paramore Felix x Barbie: "Shinunoga E-Wa" by Fujii Kaze, "She's so High" by Tal Bachman

Thank you again for asking!! I feel strangely sweaty about finally sharing my detectives out loud lmao

[howto-ifyou]

How To Remove A Dollar Store Plunger From Your Rectal Cavity:

Surely the situation isn’t as embarrassing as it seems. You went to the bathroom, it was dark, and your inconsiderate spouse left the plunger stuck in the toilet. Maybe you were in the shower, trying to plunge the drain and suddenly slipped. However this happened, you can avoid the embarrassment of an emergency room visit with this simple guide.

Step One: Assess your situation. How deep is the plunger stuck in there? If it’s not too deep, pulling it out should be easy with a bit of lube.

Step Two: Lube the plunger (and your nether regions). It’s important to use lube in the removal of any item from the rectum as internal tearing might occur. If you don’t have any lube specifically for intimate areas, try any of the following:

Cooking oil, Vaseline, hair gel, aloe Vera gel, mustard, orange juice, etc. Icy hot and toothpaste also have the added benefit of helping with the pain of object removal.

Step Three: Grasp the end of the plunger that is not currently inside of you firmly. You’re going to want to stop and take a deep breath here to prepare yourself for any discomfort that may come with the process. Here’s some ideas to help you relax:

Go out and show your friends your new tail. They’ll find it hilarious! Make sure to show all of your family too, especially your grandparents. You wouldn’t want them to miss out on the fun! Anal humor is timeless and heavily appreciated by older generations due to them having nothing better to laugh at before technology took over.

Have a drink or 17. If you’re gonna be lubricating your butthole anyway, might as well use some social lubricant to make the experience with yourself less humiliating.

Make yourself a cup of coffee, taking several laxatives in the process. This will help to relax your colon and encourage it to push the intruding plunger out.

Try to push it deeper. Experimenting with yourself is the safest and easiest way to understand your own sexuality. If you enjoy the plunger being there, consider doing it more often (after you’ve figured out how to remove it, that is). You never know, the plunger may even make its way out of you through your mouth if you push hard enough.

Step Four: Pull the plunger out with aggressive force. Surely you remember losing your baby teeth, rip the thing out like you would’ve a loose tooth that wouldn’t fall out. Attaching a string to a doorknob may help get it out.

Step Five: If the plunger is still stuck inside of you, considering using power tools to cut the plunger yourself. Using a mirror should help with this part. Chainsaws are a bit overpowered, especially with an object as fragile as a cheap plunger, but will get the job done quickly. Try to cut the plunger as close to your anus as possible, as you will need to wait for the rest of it to pass naturally with this method.

Step Six: Once you have the plunger out, sanitize it well, especially if you plan to reinsert it later. Using a potent mixture of bleach and ammonia should destroy any germs and bacteria on the plunger, destroying your ability to breathe in the process. This method is especially helpful if you’re fed up with constantly finding plungers in your rectum.

Step Seven: Insert a tampon into your rectum. Ideally, it should be soaked with at least 91% isopropyl alcohol. This will sanitize the possible internal wounds you have along with stopping any possible bleeding. You may feel a bit sick and dizzy from this method, but you’ve been through a lot recently, it’s normal for your body to react poorly.

Step Eight: Remove the tampon with excessive force after letting it sit for 5-7 minutes. This will remove any internal scabs that may have formed, leading to a faster healing process. Afterwards, putting a soothing cream such as preparation H or diaper rash ointment around the anus. If you’re in a pinch, try using orajel, icy hot, or toothpaste. If you’re really in a pinch, buttchugging mouthwash may also help. All you need is a funnel and a bottle of Listerene to sanitize and soothe your poor colon.

**Obligatory Disclaimer: This post does not constitute medical advice. See a doctor who doesn’t have a poorly printed fake license for that.

[lupinescribbler]

a lot of good points/reminders! I especially appreciate the personal experience anecdote, always helpful when going for more writing accuracy/descriptiveness.

some addendums. Blood will initially feel slick, and it gets just about everywhere. Thick/plush/layered clothes can hide serious bleeding, but otherwise I doubt someone would pass out specifically from blood loss before the blood is overtly visible.

more about bleeding! Venous bleeding (if a vein is hit) will often bleed more steadily and a darker color. However you can still get significant/concerning blood loss with venous bleeding, don’t need arterial for that.

Arterial bleeding (if an artery is hit) will often bleed in spurts! It will also generally be brighter. An artery is where you might see the dramatic “spraying” blood.

With writing stopping bleeding, the number one thing to remember is direct pressure. (BSI and scene safety aside) the first thing your character is going to need to do is to get pressure directly over the bleed. Sometimes that’s just pressing fingertips right over it. Don’t get too many diffuse layers on it (wrapping towels, etc). After it’s controlled/significantly slowed by direct pressure, a pressure bandage can maintain. Cauterization is fun for whump and all, but generally a very bad decision since you go from having to deal with bleeding to having to deal with infection, a bad burn, shock, and maybe still internal bleeding depending on the wound.

of course, that being said, write your characters doing or thinking what they would know to do. Someone not medically trained might not know how to apply good direct pressure, or might not know that cauterization is a bad idea, etc.

STOP DOING THIS IN INJURY FICS!!

Bleeding:

Blood is warm. if blood is cold, you’re really fucking feverish or the person is dead. it’s only sticky after it coagulates.

It smells! like iron, obv, but very metallic. heavy blood loss has a really potent smell, someone will notice.

Unless in a state of shock or fight-flight mode, a character will know they’re bleeding. stop with the ‘i didn’t even feel it’ yeah you did. drowsiness, confusion, pale complexion, nausea, clumsiness, and memory loss are symptoms to include.

blood flow ebbs. sometimes it’s really gushin’, other times it’s a trickle. could be the same wound at different points.

it’s slow. use this to your advantage! more sad writer times hehehe.

Stab wounds:

I have been mildly impaled with rebar on an occasion, so let me explain from experience. being stabbed is bizarre af. your body is soft. you can squish it, feel it jiggle when you move. whatever just stabbed you? not jiggly. it feels stiff and numb after the pain fades. often, stab wounds lead to nerve damage. hands, arms, feet, neck, all have more motor nerve clusters than the torso. fingers may go numb or useless if a tendon is nicked.

also, bleeding takes FOREVER to stop, as mentioned above.

if the wound has an exit wound, like a bullet clean through or a spear through the whole limb, DONT REMOVE THE OBJECT. character will die. leave it, bandage around it. could be a good opportunity for some touchy touchy :)

whump writers - good opportunity for caretaker angst and fluff w/ trying to manhandle whumpee into a good position to access both sites

Concussion:

despite the amnesia and confusion, people ain’t that articulate. even if they’re mumbling about how much they love (person) - if that’s ur trope - or a secret, it’s gonna make no sense. garbled nonsense, no full sentences, just a coupla words here and there.

if the concussion is mild, they’re gonna feel fine. until….bam! out like a light. kinda funny to witness, but also a good time for some caretaking fluff.

Fever:

you die at 110F. no 'oh no his fever is 120F!! ahhh!“ no his fever is 0F because he’s fucking dead. you lose consciousness around 103, sometimes less if it’s a child. brain damage occurs at over 104.

ACTUAL SYMPTOMS:

sluggishness

seizures (severe)

inability to speak clearly

feeling chilly/shivering

nausea

pain

delirium

symptoms increase as fever rises. slow build that secret sickness! feverish people can be irritable, maybe a bit of sass followed by some hurt/comfort. never hurt anybody.

ALSO about fevers - they absolutely can cause hallucinations. Sometimes these alter memory and future memory processing. they're scary shit guys.

fevers are a big deal! bad shit can happen! milk that till its dry (chill out) and get some good hurt/comfort whumpee shit.

keep writing u sadistic nerds xox love you

ALSO I FORGOT LEMME ADD ON:

YOU DIE AT 85F

sorry I forgot. at that point for a sustained period of time you're too cold to survive.

pt 2