#msg roof

[spidermartini]

[djevelbl]

Babygirl you NEED to take a break — grinding enchanting levels on The Realm SMP for hours is NOT okay

[orphicnatural]

sammy coded: fire in my domicile x2

[cloakedsparrow]

Red Hood climbs up onto a roof with the intention of watching some drug smugglers below, only to find Robin, crouched in the perfect hiding space Jason had noticed. The boy is eating fries from a curled down Batburgers bag and sipping a Riddler Shake.

Jason: What are you doing here, Boy Wonder?

Tim: Probably the same thing you are. Spying on criminals.

Jason: ...

Tim: Want some fries? They're Jokerized, just to warn you.

Jason: Why?

Tim: Kon-El got some to try the last time he sneaked into Gotham and it turns out they're really good.

Jason: No, why would you offer me fries?

Tim: I have enough to share and I can always buy more?

Jason: Why are you being nice to me?

Tim: I'm offering fries, not a kidney. Why wouldn't I?

Jason: Because of the knife to the throat or, you know, that time I beat you within an inch of your life?

Tim: ...

Jason: ...

Tim: What the fuck was your time as Robin like?

Jason: The fuck?

Tim: A mentally unstable individual violently attacked me because he was scared or mad at Batman. That's like a bi-monthly occurrence for me, minimum. At least you were really insane and want to get better now-

Jason: I never said I wanted to stop killing.

Tim: I said get better. You want to be in control of yourself instead of being all Lazarus crazy, right?

Jason: Yes. But that doesn't mean I won't kill.

Tim: That's still wanting to get better. You think half the rouges who rotate through Arkham are actually trying to get better by even that much?

Jason: No.

Tim: Me, either. So that makes you an improvement over the usual. Plus, you know, the trauma from being murdered and all.

Jason: That's not an excuse to attack a kid.

Tim: No, but it's an explanation, which, again, is better than the usual. And you're showing signs of genuine remorse. That's huge around here. How often do we get that?

Jason: Anyone ever tell you your standards are kinda fucked up?

Tim: They'd have to pay closer attention for that.

Jason: Fucking what?

Tim: Doesn't matter. It's not like you're going to talk to anyone and even if you did, who'd believe you?

Jason: ...

Tim: So, you want some fries?

Jason: Yeah, sure.

Jason: These are good.

Tim: Right?

Jason: Is this nori?

Tim: Uh-huh; with paprika, kosher salt, and msg. I think there might be something else in there, but I haven't been able to place it.

Jason: Potato starch.

Tim: Oh, that makes sense.

Jason: I am definitely Jokerizing my fries from now on.

Tim: Try them with the Riddler Shake, too. The mint really compliments them.

Jason: I'll do that.

Tim: Wait. Doesn't that guy work for Black Mask?

Jason: Yes, he does.

Tim: So...want to pull a World's Finest?

Jason: A what?

Tim: You know, a team-up?

Jason: You-? Fucking- You know what? Sure. Let's pull a World's Finest. *under his breath* Little freak.

[postvampirism]

Help a recovering addict out!!!

Hey everyone, those who follow know some of my story. I’m Bat, queer autistic Latina who became addicted to fentanyl. The family member I used with turned abusive so I was forced to become homeless and quit my job (due to them being my supervisor) at the end of April. Couch crashed for a month then went into treatment end of May. My insurance fortunately covered my entire stay here so I had a roof over my head and food to eat but obviously have not been able to work while in treatment. I will be completing my 90 day residential program and transitioning to a sober living facility soon to continue treatment. I have tried to have ebt set up already but due to policy I don’t qualify till I actually go into sober living (in which I will have to provide my own meals) so I would have to go without food until my benefits actually could kick in 🙃 please help me out, this whole thing has been stressful bc I do not have any money rn… so if you truly want to help out an addict of color out this is my info

🔵: @FrewtBat

🟢: $FrewtBat

(Msg/send an ask for PayPal or zelle. Heads up my phone time is limited while I’m still in residential)

[antharax1czomb1e]

Cool epic Intro! ( º﹃º )

(i swear Im awesome sauce!!)

Ronnie/Ronnett, Cove, or Tate! :3 ( •̀ ω •́ ) 18!! Pansexual & Genderfluid any prns ||Mexican! ^.^🇲🇽||

No DNI thingy just don’t beat me to death or smth or ill eat u in ur sleep

✦• I love to draw and i love getting ideas from people like asks and stuff bcs i suck at thinking so if you ever have smth you want me to draw pleaseeee never be to spooked to ask me! Im more scared of you than u are of me trust! Or just send asks in general i do not care! :3

discord is: zombiemeatx_x

(if you dont have disc but do wanna be friends just msg me on here i rly wanna be friends and i have bad social anxiety so im very nervous when it comes to texting first!)

Please please pleaseee be my friend!

✦• fav cases !! eric harris & dylan klebold, artyom anoufriev & nikita lytkin, adam lanza, alyssa bustamante, dylann roof, robert hawkins, andrew blaze

|| interests ||

✦• interests/Likes☆ tcc DUH!!, FNAF, creepypasta, scene, Zero Day, TBHK, BSD, Death note, BTD, Mouthwashing, Alien stage, Minecraft, Roblox, Horror games, Crime documentaries, LPS Toys :3, Drawing!! (I usually draw traditionally but i sometimes draw digitally!) i love animals they’re so cute! :3 and more stuff! (im lazy TvT will think of more stuff later)

( ～'ω')～

[sincerelyverena]

Can you write for sub!Oliver? I'm so desperate seeing him squirming and whining😮‍💨

⟡⁺ RUN, BUNNY, RUN

oh hi guys its been a while ! never thought id manage to get this out but here it is, n i hope u all enjoy. ive missed each n every one of u (sorta) (joking). anyways im planning to lean in on the more multifandom aspect of my account, so youll be seeing a few different fandoms scattered around. nevertheless, give it a read! mybe itll be ur thing :] ty anon for this request, much love <3

. . . OLIVER QUICK X FEM!READER ‘beautiful, violent, vulgar.’ @ajs-222 @michael-loves-chickens @surazim @soocore @fedyascoffin

inbox is always open to requests!

in whichꕀ

✦ ﹒oliver got what he wanted at a price.

tagsꕀ

✦ ﹒smut ﹐sub!oliver﹐dom!reader ﹐y/n catton﹐reader is a cougar ﹐oliver just cant get enough﹐reader is implied to be a shorty ﹐elspeth is a hoe﹐cunnilingus ﹐degradation﹐orgasm denial﹐marking kink ﹐lowkey blackmail ﹐farleighs there too!

ON THE HUNT FOR BETA READERS! MSG ME <3

He reminded you of a bunny, an animal.

Oliver Quick was reticent compared to the hearty, high conversation around the table that night. He was stuck out like a sore thumb in contrast to the Cattons, a family line of the prestigious. High on the grace of themselves and each other. Blissfully unaware of anyone or anything past what they offer to their inflated egos. And who were you, to make such unprincipled claims against family? Against blood?

Mother  – Elspeth, as she insists all the children call her – had always made snide, discreet digs at you. Shielded with a manipulative curl of the whoreish pinks of her lipstick. Underneath those sly comments is a white-hot grudge, directed toward her only daughter of blood and the Catton heiress everybody just seemed to have forgotten about.

‘You only think of yourself.’ She says. 

‘You only believe you’re superior because you abandoned the only people who’ll ever care for you.’

But they never cared for you. Not in the slightest.

You were the only descendant of the new-age family line that didn’t reside under the roof of Saltburn, causing waves in the circles of old money when you took your trust fund (and dignity) in a single palm and vanished to New Mexico. 

Nevertheless, to maintain access to the trust fund, you have been spending the entirety of every summer with your bloodline you inherently disowned. Money was the bottom line, the bottom line of every transaction you make with your parents. Which wasn’t a problem in the slightest, considering in their eyes, how much you were worth was the only thing cardinal about you.

You had stayed summers long enough to recognize the twisted, Catton-branded pattern your brother, Felix, had fallen into. In your eyes, he wasn’t fit to be claimed the bloodline heir. His blood is unsavory and debilitated. During the presidency of his birth, Elspeth had been participating in affairs with men who would’ve directly tainted both the reputation of the family name. As well as the bloodline.

The crimson redness of your dagger-shaped nails clinks along the side of the thin wineglass in your palm. Those morals of clean blood had been hammered into your head for decades, no matter how much your mother preached her modernized values.

Elspeth was still the same harlot she was all those years prior. 

The exact reason why instead of disturbance, thinly veiled amusement is masked between your hues as you witnessed Elspeth’s conversation with Oliver. The wrinkle of her eye crinkled furthermore with maliciousness, masked with honeyed words. Oliver reacts in a manner especially foreign to you. The apples of his cheeks pinken as Elspeth momentarily offers a palm toward the muscle of his arm, a singular touch as Oliver’s lips clamped together. Unable to respond for a beat of a moment. The cogs behind Oliver’s eyes turn and work soundlessly, having to be coorused by Elspeth herself to respond. 

Oliver was a stark difference from Felix’s past pets, brought to the household each summer for the entertainment of all. You observe him thoroughly, without shame. Nobody would question you anyway, especially the Catton children. The food chain of the bloodline stands unquestioned with Felix toppling all competition. But you were there first, and the force of that power still stands. 

All that you knew was that Oliver would be at the very bottom. A stark, white rabbit amongst the lions and wolves. The sheep's clothing they wear? Deteriorated. 

And you’d die for a chance to snap your jaws around his neck.

Even though you were barely a decade older compared to the other descendants of the Catton name, your tastes in sexuality had simmered. You have had your fair share of flings, basking in sensual attention like how your younger relatives are receiving nowadays. 

You’ve made the stark assumption that only a few strains of men and woman could cause that familiar warmth to unfurl within the depths of her core. But you were solely mistaken, as the cobalt hues of Oliver Quick met yours. They withheld the sweetest traces of caramel that caused something to stir. Something that caused the top of your bare thighs to squeeze together absentmindedly.

Oliver’s once-pinkened cheeks redden once again. He was the first to look away.

Run, bunny, run. The words bounce around your skull aimlessly, as if the density of your head were hollow. Your only set intention was the young man across the cherry-wood table, and how your lips curl upward at the thought. 

An unmistakable atmosphere of tension ridged itself between the two. Unmistakeable enough for Oliver to virtually scramble from his chair with a lowly hinged creak as soon as the black-tie dinner was to be dismissed, disappearing into the estate’s foyer without another word. In the process, silencing the remainder of the table as they escape the metaphorical weight of their chairs.

‘Someone had to go.’ Farleigh snarks, expression feigning boredom.

Elspeth offers a scoff in turn, though the weariness of her hues twinkle with stuffed amusement. ‘Don’t be silly, Farleigh.’

On the other hand, Felix’s brow wrinkles. You tune out the roar of masculine voices and a battle of ego as the two relatives bicker over the treatment of their guests. The hypocritical bounds and leaps of their voices were enough for your meal of fancy, fickle steak and fluffy, mashed potatoes to churn in your stomach.

As much as Felix preaches for his adoration of Oliver Quick, the entire household – even the thinness of the estate walls – knows that he’s only a temporary fix to his hunger for the disadvantaged. Viewing himself as a saint, veiling the sin that reverberated inside. Even Felix is willing to slip unsavory words about Oliver’s history before their friendship, especially his mother’s drug addiction. 

You shortly realized you were the only one who hadn’t uttered a single word about Oliver. Yet, at least.  You were the only person under the Catton's roof. You’ve maintained formality, and politeness in the scarce cases of passing the salt along the length of the table. But there was nothing polite in the way the relentless azure of his eyes bored into your own, obstructing every value and moral you’ve ever known.

They always said curiosity would eventually kill the cat. The claws of your nails threaten to dig into the hitch of your thigh, deep to the point of drawn blood.

You needed to know about him.

The soles of your crimson-sheathed heels click against the top of the blemishless floorings. The space between your shoulder blades bur without missing a beat, bound to be from the hawk-eyes of Elspeth Catton and her descendants that followed. Nevertheless, you push past the judgment and persevere forward toward the same foyer Oliver had vanished into.

The double-storied entrance room was as grand as the rest of the estate. Dark 

strains of oak are the main attraction, revealing the old-money origins of Saltburn. Jars of incense sticks decorate the occasional corner, the passionate white musk filling the atmosphere, tickling the back of your throat as you inhale.

The peace-brimming silence is sliced with a stressed rummaging from the door placed offside, shielded behind the wood-trimmed stairway. You prided yourself on minding your own business, but you couldn’t help but shuffle a tad closer. Enough to catch a glimpse of a singular bead of light, trickling out of the gap the door had made.

You cursed the thrum of your heels as you ventured closer. Hand strained against the top of the engraved door, sending strained words to the universe as you threaten to inch it wider and wider open.

All that secrecy disappeared from your body at the sight of Oliver Quick. It took you a few, prolonged seconds to recognize the young man amid the shadows. The sight of his scruffy, pale knees pressed against the ground. A crown of wavy, brunette locks shielded the focused curve of his eye as he rummaged through something. You couldn’t help it, fingers curling to widen the door a little more.

Creak.

Nothing could prepare you for what you witnessed before you. Even the panicked alarm that flares in the cobalt of Oliver’s hues goes ignored as he virtually snaps his head toward you. Amid his hands, various Catton heirlooms have gone untouched. Useless to some, priceless to others, and you guessed Oliver had made his mark on that.

‘What in the world are you doing with Aunty Start’s Apollo earrings?’

The words escaped you in a rush. Who knew that that your snow-white, innocent bunny had nefarious means within the Catton family? You exaggerate aunty’s last name, a slight teetering edge of glee trickling into you at the sight of grieving recognition that filled Oliver’s eyes.

 You stepped fully into the doorway.

‘I wonder what Farleigh would think about that.’

Oliver didn’t take the threat lightly, notable by the slight shake in his voice. “You wouldn’t.” He insisted. His hands scrambled, and the box propped between his fingers slipped and clattered across the oak of the storage room’s grounding.

The sole of your heel slams against the bottom of the door, widening it entirely. You entered the room with a click of the underside of your shoes, reverberating throughout the suddenly too-cold, too-hollow room you found yourself in. The only sense of illumination is the light from the foyer, trickling into the suddenly too-compact expanse.

You crouched down. Knees hitting the base of the flooring similarly to Oliver’s own, barely a foot or two away. You could hear the tameness of his breaths. The sharp, panicked gasps and swallows that only made your lips twist upward. The threat was there, looming over Oliver’s head, choking him by the throat.

‘Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t. You decide, Ollie.’

‘How–’

The length of your fingers curled around the curve of his cheeks, pressed into the slight hollowness that would follow. Silencing him in turn. The splinters of illumination from the doorway behind them manage to offer an iridescent glow toward the plumpness of Oliver’s lips as you squeeze half of his alluring face. 

You hadn’t expected the first, proper interactions with Oliver Quick to wind up in his manner. But you have no intention to stop. The fashion in which his eyes bore into your own, gaze hawk-like as he stared down at you. Eyelashes fluttering. Pupils dilated.

A wave of awareness rolled through you at the sight. Those same splinters of warmth unfurled in the base of your abdomen.

‘What are you doing here, Oliver?’

Your digits eased around the sides of his face to allow him to speak. The cheeks you once grappled somewhat pinkened once more, face glowing under your undivided attention.

Oliver’s breaths grew slower and slower. As if your touch drunken him.

‘Felix invited me,’ his words were borderlining a whine, scrambling to explain himself. ‘For the summer.’

The base of your eyebrows drew together darkly. The amusement reverberating in your eyes dissolved into a slight annoyance. Your fingers traveled toward the curve of his chin, taking it into your possession in a rough matter it sends Oliver’s eyes to rounden in response. He was a sick, sick liar.

He corrected himself, in seconds. ‘For revenge.’

‘Revenge?’

Despite your concentration, you hadn’t realized the lack of distance placed between you and Oliver. The proximity is intoxicating. To the point in which you felt the soft exhale of his breath fan across the form of your painted lips. His scent disturbed the twist of white musk and dust in the air, catching you off guard.

You dipped your head further upward. A single breath away from his own. 

Oliver’s words scrambled from his parted lips, each syllable trembling. ‘Revenge.’ He confirmed with a singular breath.

That singular breath that was virtually snatched away from him as you captured those plump lips with your own. A warm hum of pleasure buzzes throughout your body, sensations setting your nerves on fire as your mouth brushes across his.

You retreated into yourself momentarily. Ears perked up as Oliver drew in a sharp intake of breath, eyes half-lidded and glazed over with a glimmer of euphoria. He inched forward. A small movement that confirmed the lust that sparks behind his hues. 

Honeyed heat circulated throughout your body as your lips locked with his own. Threads of that same heat were found within each movement of their mouths. Your cheeks burnt with stuffled anticipation. 

A soft, strangled noise reverberates toward the back of Oliver’s throat as your hands enter the proximity of his caramel-like locks. Soft to the touch, feathery. The pads of your fingers curled against his scalp. Curling. Tugging. Kisses growing with heat and passion, further and further until Oliver was a mess between your two palms.

Oliver virtually whined as you pulled away. The lipstick you had carefully applied the hour prior smeared across the edge of your oh-so-swollen lips.

The pad of your thumb ran across the form of your mouth, the crimson red dirting the length of her digit. She pulled a single finger along Oliver’s lips, smearing the remnants of the lipstick.

‘And what are you doing with my family’s heirlooms?’ You inquired, words soft with sensuality. Masking it with a casualty as you press onward. Thumb pressed immensely into the dimple of his cheek, ruddiness staining the ivory of his skin.

Oliver leaned into her touch. ‘I was just curious, that’s all.’

You knew that there was a nefarious nature in his intentions. You removed your hand entirely and raised to your feet on two heels. The sound of your soles meeting the oak floor echoes out, bouncing against the walls as you approach an ancient, traditional desk. Draped with a translucent cover. It was considered to be as old as the estate itself, yet you had no problem sitting all over it. 

Oliver watched in the process. Eyes rounded a remnant of a bashful doe. A spark of recognition appeared behind those eyes as you inclined a singular fingertip toward the space before you.

‘On your knees.’

You took a bound of pleasure watching as Oliver dropped before you. Those knees strained against the ground. Trickles of arousal unfolded in your abdomen, nerves set alight and anticipation fluid within you as he came eye-to-eye with the satin fabric that shielded your cunt. And it was hard to miss the stained wetness.

‘Y’know what? I don’t think Felix would be too happy if he–’

‘You can suck off my brother later, but you’re serving me now. Or everyone will know whatever betrayal you’re planning against them.’

Oliver choked back any other remaining protests. Witnessing as your undergarments rolled down your hips, down the curve of your thighs, sliding along your calves, and dangling from the top of your ankle. Exposing your womanhood entirely to him, your legs widened a little further. 

At the sight, Oliver leaned forward. Willing to comply. A foreign, almost animalistic thirst reflects in the light of his hues. Only halted by a singular palm. Your fingers propped atop the strewn locks atop his head, restraining him from reaching the wetness he yearned for. 

‘I’m gonna ask you this again, and this time you’re telling me the truth, bunny.’

Your words were slow. Diligently pronounced and purposeful with each syllable.

‘What are you doing with the heirlooms?’

‘I just need–’ His words escaped in fluent gasps. Your skin prickled as Oliver’s trembling breaths fanned your womanhood. ‘I just needed some dirt on Farleigh.’

‘Oh yeah?’

The length of a singular leg of yours gradually intertwined around Oliver’s shoulders. Your hand eased up as you nudged him closer toward you. He willfully allows you to guide him, nose practically touching the top of your mound. 

His words continued with a shuddered puff, eyes virtually glazed over.

‘Something that’ll disappoint your parents.’ Oliver dwells upon his reasonings further.

‘And Felix?’

He nods.

‘You dirty,  dirty dog.’

Those words only fuelled Oliver further. And before you could even consider knowingly degrading him once more, the searing heat of his tongue is pressed against the slickness of your folds. He works his mouth against your cunt, movements growing sloppier and sloppier as he basks in the sexual validation he receives. The length of your fingers find themselves in his hair once more, fluffed, brunette strands coddled around your fist as you squeeze your legs around him.

The pleasure that you receive from his mouth alone is indescribable. Honeyed, warm ecstasy maneuvers throughout you. That familiar space between your thighs aches, even as Oliver’s lips latch onto them. Merely fuelling the fire that runs hot underneath your skin, alighting your nerves on fire.

“Fuck…” You can feel him grin around you.

A finger shortly accompanies the consumption of his tongue. And Oliver’s fingers are undeniably long, pale fleshed worked down to the knuckle with the force of a few pumps. He adds another. Then another. Stealing a moan or two from the depths of your throat, forcing you to clamp your lips shut. If anyone walked in. Your cheeks burn at the thought.

You bucked your hips into his fingers as Oliver worked you open, curling into you without faltering. Plunging his digits into you, again and again until you were breathless. Calves curled around him, guiding him further and further toward your sensitivities. Welcoming his mouth back onto you once more.

Oliver’s lips latched longingly onto the little pearl lining your entrance. He murmurs sweet nothings into you, fingers easing their pace until you can only hear the subtle quickness of your heaving breaths. And his whispers. Whispers of how wet you are, and how much he longs to quench that thirst. Again and again. On his knees, basked in his most vulnerable state.

Just for you. Oliver both in time, curls his fingers and squeezes your bud. Unleashing a wave of fire that takes you by the throat, walls squeezing around the length as you come undone. Shockwaves virtually gripping you. Tremors guide you back from your high as both grunts and moans of approval escape you.

Oliver glows under the attention. He peers up at you, through the intensity of his thick lashes. Doe eyes blinking occasionally, innocently, as he pops those fingers into his mouth where he once tasted you. Suckling. Tongue flittering around the pad of his digits.

‘You’ve done that before, haven’t you?’ Your words were more of a statement than an assumption. The pulsing of your newfound arousal doesn’t show in the slightest, only glimmering behind the intensity of your eyes.  You weren’t done with your bunny, not yet anyway.

Oliver’s fingers escape his lips with a reverberating pop. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

You reach downward briefly. Taking the lace of your panties with a single hand, guiding the garment around the base of your heels. Abandoning them on the dust-soaked floor. Those same heels meet that same grounding.

‘I didn’t take you for a fuckboy, bunny.” You practically spit, taking pride in how his eyes wobble slightly at the force of your filthy, filthy words. A short snap fills the room as you indicate your hand towards the oak tiles. 

‘On the floor.’

Oliver doesn’t say anything less, finding his body sprawled out before you. Essentially submitting himself to you in the process, something that ignites that oh-so-familiar heat in the pit of your belly. You stand over him, relinquishing in how he stares up at you, willing for you to do anything to him.

‘Pants off.’ Your words are snappy and insistent. You almost feel like that spoiled little one you used to be as a child, one who would get anything you would desire. ‘You don’t need them.’

Oliver’s fingers work to untangle his belt, loosening the dark fabric of his pants.  The material rolls down his hips, his hardness is immensely visible through the thinness of his boxers. The bulge accompanying the arousal that burns throughout your entire body, abdomen unfurling with that oh-so-familiar heat. 

You drop down toward him, legs clamped down on either side of Oliver’s thighs. You are squeezing them somewhat. The curve of your palm cups the fabriced nature of his manhood, causing a soft moan to escape him. 

‘[Y/N]...’ The broadness of Oliver’s hands grapple the frame of your hips, the warmth of his fingers curling around you. He virtually buckles up into you, against your bareness. A motion that causes your lips to curl up into a lazy smirk. 

‘Repeat my name, bunny.’ The pad of your fingers tease the rim of his boxers.

Oliver’s breath shudders. ‘I’m begging, [Y/N].’

A gradual, mocking roll of your eyes overtakes you nevertheless as you tug the thick material down. They roll and crinkle along the bottom of Oliver’s thighs, allowing for him to spring out for full reveality. For you and you alone. A low whistle fills the emptiness of the room as you observe his girth. Oliver is virtually trembling under the intensity of your gaze as you curl a fist around the length of his shaft, taking delight in how he buckled into you.

‘Be patient now.’ The words escape you with a scoff as you feign annoyance.

Oliver quietens in your demand. Alas, as you position yourself above him, you can still hear the raspiness of his breaths and the pleasure you take in the stink of desperation high in the air. He buries himself into you with a singular thrust, merely forcing a soft groan at the initial discomfort at he fills you. Stretches you out. Your hips slap against his own as you buckle up and down across his length, Oliver mimicking your movements to a tee.

You arch into him, soft noises of pleasure escaping you as he manages to claw ecstasy from you with every singular thrust. Your inner walls clutched around him, causing Oliver to drop his head back, gasping your name out as if it were a prayer. As if he were on the verge of life and death.

‘[Y/N]?’

‘Yes?’

It’s odd how the two of you presented the conversation as if you weren’t rutting your entire life and soul into him. Onto him. Oliver continues to writhe around some more, arching himself into you, again and again. The whiteness of his cheeks is notably flushed with arousal.

‘I’m about to –’

You slow down your pace until you’re merely mounting him, the lack of movement causing a groan of sexual frustration to claw from Oliver’s throat. The side of your thighs squeezes around his hips for extra exaggeration as you proceed to speak, merely unphased, even as you are reaching your release.

‘Jesus, Ollie, don’t be so fuckin’ greedy.’

You scold through hitched breath and hushed moans. His girth is warm inside you, and something about that is so utterly pleasing.

‘You aren’t to come unless you’ve pleased me enough.’

The demand causes Oliver’s head to loll back with esteemed annoyance, but he doesn’t say anything. It merely prompts the width of his hands to press into your hips, beginning to rock himself into you. It steals a moan out of your lips, but the sight of his desperation is a sight of see indeed. You arch further into him as he ruts against the exact spot that causes you to see stars.

The length of your hand folds around the back of his neck. ‘Right there, bunny, oh, you fuckin’ beast!’

Closer now. Closer now.

‘Say my name, [Y/N].’ Oliver heaves with strained breath, holding back on his orgasm has done numbers on him.

You wack him across the back of the head.

‘That’s my line, dickhead.’

Alas, the words barely escape your lips as the boiling and bubbling dam within you snaps and crashes. You dissolved into nothing but pure pleasure. Nevertheless, whatever you had said, Oliver’s name played on your lips in something that bordered screams. Tremors of ecstasy fill you as Oliver continues to pound into you, guiding you throughout your orgasm in your most vulnerable moment.

Aftershocks spark within you as you go limp, pulling yourself together with heaved breath and glazed eyes.

‘Have I pleased you enough, then?’

Oliver’s voice is hoarse, tearing you out of your orgasm-fuelled trance.

‘It’ll do, bunny.’

But before, Oliver can even consider his release. You rise from your previous position, his girth sliding out of you with ease, glistening with your slick. You tug the fabric of panties around your hips and back in place, glancing in a dust-covered mirror as you adjust your appearance. To make it seem as if you haven’t spent the past half hour having the life sucked out of you.

‘[Y/N] –’

Oliver’s protests rise in the air, falling upon deaf ears as you proceed to exit the room itself. The bottom of your heels thud against the wood-slicked tiles as you reenter the dining room, hope in hand. Your wordless wishes are fulfilled at once at the sight of Farleigh, who is window-watching, wine in hand.

‘Farleigh, thank God, I found you.’

Farleigh turns his head, bringing his glass to his lips.

‘What now?’ He’s waving away your presence entirely, it is clear.

As much as you despise this half of the family, you maintain a clear mind.

‘Oliver was rummaging through your mother’s heirlooms. I suggest you go, now. Heed my warning or not, I don’t care.’

A look of suspicion flashes across Farleigh’s face. His lips part momentarily in question before he thinks otherwise. Smart boy. Setting his wine down and immediately dashing past you. A yell or two sounds out a moment later, and your painted lips quirk upwards in pleasure.

You knew what Oliver was up to. It was clear from the first day you laid eyes upon the household’s guest. But no. It wasn’t up to Oliver to wipe out the Cattons from existence, even though he’d be doing the filthy work for you. It was admirable yes.

But it was your job. A job you strived to complete.

You slip your hand into the slight pocket in the fabric of your dress. Pulling out a small capsule. Your eyes narrow down on the glass of wine, vacant on the table. 

Starting with Farleigh. 

WORD COUNT: 4K MASTERLIST REQ ME!

[freakoont]

BSD WITH RANDOM TEXT MSGS + HC's

FEATURED CHARACTERS: Osamu Dazai, Atsushi Nakajima, Ryunosuke Akutagawa, Doppo Kunikida

TW: bad grammar? Also first post-- so it's probably a flop💀

PART 1

Osamu Dazai

dude seriously would never take anything you say seriously on text💀

"Osamu help I'm stuck on the edge of the roof..." "BELLADONNA😨WITHOUT ME?!" "OSAMU IM GONNA FALL. HELP ME." "For me right??" "SHUT UP--"

I'm convinced he'd never text you first but always call

"Osamu what do you need?" "Just wanted to say I love you~" ".... IM IN THE MIDDLE OF WORK."

If you don't work at the Agency, he's definitely calling you instead of working.

Atsushi Nakajima

It took him so long to get your number... He probably had to get help from Dazai🥺😭bad idea

You definitely texted first. He was trying so hard to find the right message to say at first.

After he got comfortable with what to say.... You definitely pulled out your weird card💀

"if you turned into a worm I'd still be the one sleeping on the left side of the bed.❤️" "I'm sorry-- what😟"

"YOU'RE MY BABY AND I LOVE😭😭" "thank you..?☺️"

Akutagawa

You know Akutagawa so well that it's obvious when you're talking to HIM and not his SISTER

"heyy" "Gin get off his phone💀" "Damn-"

Whenever you do text Akutagawa, the conversations get so bland fast💀

"BABY AKUTAGAWA😍" "yes?" "I LUVVVVV YOU❤️" "I love you as well."

Dude probably takes forever to text back😔 because he's busy fighting his boyfriend Atsushi

Doppo Kunikida

DAZAI IS ALWAYS SENDING YOU "black mail" OF HIM😭

He's definitely seen articles online and sent them to you...

SIR IS ALWAYS CORRECTING YOUR GRAMMAR. SO DAMN BORING.

"Kuni can you get sum food for me pwease🥺🙏" "Kunikida* some* pwease*." "OKAY DAD🙄"

You and Dazai are always planning something against this man💀 but it's okay. Because he loves you. So you won't die. But Dazai will

I made a part 2. It should be on my account

[nikethestatue]

On the subject of the necklace- don't you think it was icky and cheap of azriel to regift elains gift to glee ? I mean in fae culture jewelry is meant to be seen as a big mate gift- something monumental in their culture . Very icky of him no matter how heartbroken he was to go and give something he planned and had made for elain to a random women. Then worst he uses the line meant for elain - a thing of lovely secret beauty for elain - to describe glee ? In the same sense... why does he care abt how her teal eyes will light up and why does he store that image in his chest where his glows softly ?? I don't want elain with a man who thinks of another women like this - thats just so gross. Especially after he hurt her by calling her a mistake- it drives the msg of her being a mistake home by regifting her gift to the ginger. It shows her it meant nothing to him. That's such a red flag thing to do. Even if the necklace doesn't reach glee....his intention to give it to her doesn't wash away. It's gross for him to give something sentimental to some airhead. He's saying that if elain doesn't want it ...he'll find someone who does want it. Also why did he think to give it to her a whole day later- that means he was thinking of her irrelevant training session the entire day. I support elriel buy sjm needs to make him grovel and coz now he stands as immature and tantrum throwing when things don't go his way at the first sign of trouble. Sure ppl can argue he's being nice or it's glees powers. If he's so nice and felt so pitiful for her why not get her a non sentimental non personal gift. Also I don't believe sjm will make an sa survivor- have weird luring powers. .. so I don't think she lured him into giving her the necklace. None of it makes sense. Wouldn't he see glee wearing if she received every day at training and think of elain ? Imagine how hurt elain would be by first being called a mistake and then see something that was meant for her on another women's neck

So I think you are being a bit harsh.

In terms of 'regifting'--I don't view what he did as 'regifting'. Regifting is conscious. Someone gives me a vase that I don't like. I keep it, knowing that I can give it away next Christmas. Christmas rolls around and I present it to Aunt Mabel. That to me is regifting. What Azriel did wasn't that. He didn't think in advance that he wanted to give the necklace to Gwyn. I don't think he thought of Gwyn at all after meeting her on the roof. We know he was at the snowball fights and trying to murder Rhys with ice and rocks. The day after, when Nesta saw him, he was aloof and angry and didn't talk. It's not like he sauntered over to Gwyn and started chatting her up, or began looking for the necklace on her neck. Or asked Nesta whether Gwyn mentioned receiving a necklace.

He wanted to give the necklace away--what't more, when he finds it in the pile of gifts, he still calls it 'Elain's Necklace'. He associates the necklace squarely with Elain.

He didn't go directly to Gwyn and presented the necklace as if he bought it for her. Not at all. He suggested a random name in addition to 'any priestess that might like it' to Clotho.

I also don't think that he called Elain 'a mistake'. He called what they were about to do, the kiss, a mistake. Obviously it's done for dramatic effect and causes Elain to return the necklace. THat's conflict. It's the same as Nesta telling Cassian at the end of ACOFAS that she doesn't want to see him ever again, and that she is not interested and that he should leave her alone.

The luring bit and Gwyn's SA--i really don't think that SJM is all that concerned about the optics of it. I don't believe it would be sexual luring and therefore, her SA is kind of irrelevant. I think it would be based on her powers, which she really can't just shut down. Whatever is happening with Gwyn and her siren/lightsinger situation--i don't know what SJM is planning to do with it. Like, not at all. I truly have no idea. But no, I don't think SJM would be stopped from writing something like that just because Gwyn was SAed.

Like SJM said--i think it was obvious. The conflict was set up and Gwyn's powers were hinted at again in the POV.

[kulchurstudio]

On my father’s side Dalip Jolly Fadnavis F**leap Trump its a sensory motor cortex skull bumping cult, me and my brother included! Didnt give me too much trouble, 1 inch seizures off to the left! But what if I hadnt playing soccer? Too wrong to forgive at all even later!

On my mothers’s side, C*ntboy Shoba Bahadur Jolly, Shiba Bahadur, it is ACTUALLY EVERY SINGLE CRIME IN THE WHOLE LIST FROM 0 to 101! Not even a 100!

My uncle Uday Bahadur, C424 Defence colony, New Delhi, Uday ‘Udayangani’ Bahadur, Baba Udayanagani, WAY WORSE THAN THE MSG GUY EVEN! Actually that, actually that, actually that!

G*y owner of the ACTUAL Dawood Ibrahim! Actually that, actually that, actually that, actually that, actually that!

Distributing random data leaks and naked pictures of people without remorse, INCLUDING his own daughters Anika and Sakshi Bahadur! The three ugly ones folks G*ynika And A*skite! His daughters hide property and launder money for him and IT IS CONFIRMED THAT they go for naked massages together to our very own DLF EMPORIO mall, new delhi! Inc*stual even in ultimate WORLDWIDE CENTRAL D*SGUST and crime WAY WORSE than any cartel or cartel boss here in Mexico, Columbia, Cuba or ANYWHERE ELSE IN THE WORLD!

MANUFACTURING AND DISTRIBUTING ROOF*E R*PE chemical! Actually that, actually that, actually that!

Consuming and distributing ch*ld p*rnography!

Im here to say shooting the same content followed by m*rder of the young child ALSO and ALSO WITH HIS OWN ACTUAL LAWYERS! THEN EATING THE D*AD BODY! Actually that, actually that, actually that! 32 million people in New Delhi, India you know! Making victims out of innocent people often without remorse!

Blackmail, kidnapping, intimidation, b*sexual predation, of innocent victims unprovoked! When you are an underwriter you dont choose someone who Cannot manage and pay back the money ON PURPOSE! And also at that point given that you are either entrepreneurial or completely jobless and vacant the rest of the time you DO literally help them make that money back by pooling efforts itself! You DO NOT r*pe and m*rder violently!

Adulterating legal recreational substances! Like a passtime joke!

Instigating the literal actual major bad events the central ones EVERYWHERE! Actually that, actually that, actually that! INCLUDING 9/11 and worse! Each one! On the phone to the place in EACH CASE for the past 70 years!

FIRST PERSON IN THE HISTORY OF INDIA to steal board exam results under intimidation with a pistol in 12th grade! Actually that, actually that, actually that!

WITHOUT Provocation OR AGENDA instigated the assassination of Indira Gandhi and Rajiv Gandhi! Without payment or money even! Why she wasnt his mummy Mummy? Hansa Bahadur

Please take action

https://www.nato.int/

https://www.nato.int/

[justmeinatree]

03 - the greatest show : all the coloured lights

Summary : a group of misfits, a mysterious leader, a string of murders, and a life on the road.

previous part /// jump to pt. 1

TW : transgender / bodily anomality misconceptions and hardships in victoria era europe

Word Count : 3.5k

Series Masterlist

GIF : unknown - msg for credit

she’s been exploring france for a few weeks now. or so she assumes. she’d stopped counting after day 6. 

misses white was right, she loved france. she hadn’t been questioned once, just flowing with the crowds of people. night time was the hardest, as she doesn’t have a place to call home. so far, park benches have been her best friend, spending nighttime alone with her thoughts, sometimes wandering about to another town, sometimes too tired from her daytime exploring to bring herself to walk the long distances.

the time on her own, however, has taught her that there are different types of lonely. she’s always felt a level of loneliness, being the only person like herself, no one to speak to about her real problems and her real reservations and fears. alienation, if you will.

but now, with those fears and reservations gone, with her problems suddenly completely different, more along the lines of being physically alone. and now she knows what isolation feels like.

and although both can be described as its own version of loneliness, she’s spent her life dealing with alienation. but she was incredibly unprepared for isolation. usually with little emma by her side, or her mum or dad puttering around the house. she always assumed she’d love the silence of being totally alone. and well, now, she’s discovered that complete silence is mind numbing. she has too much time to fall into a deep spiral of thoughts.

which is right where she is tonight. it’s late. like late, late. it’s been dark for a long time now, her bum getting a bit numb on the hard wooden bench. looking up at the stars, thinking of how much she misses her honey bee. how much emma would love france. 

but her thoughts are momentarily disturbed by the unnerving feeling that she’s being watched, the tiny hairs raising on the back of her neck. she chances a quick glance behind her, eyes met with nothing but the darkness of night, even darker under the cover of the tall trees.

she sighs, turning back around, shaking her head, gaze falling on the moon again. that is, until she hears a rustling sound, her body going rigid in fear, hearing the faint sound of a large inhale and a satisfied puff of breath. 

“hello ?” she asks quietly, with as much confidence as she can muster. but she’s met with complete silence. nothing but the crickets to echo through the open field.

with her body still on high alert, little hairs standing on themselves, goosebumps erupted all over her skin, she decides that maybe this isn’t the best spot to spend the rest of her night. 

her thoughts are confirmed when the breeze picks up just slightly, an eerie nip to the air, and a quick swoosh floating by her, making her skin crawl. without a second thought, she heads off, picking one of the paths at random, and walking down it. 

she isn’t sure how far she’s walked, or how long. the major downside to not having access to any sort of clock, and relying solely on the sun and the moon. her attention is piqued though, as she notes a large array of tents and train cars, seemingly abandoned, in the middle of an open field. she also spots a small town in the distance, but is much too preoccupied by her discovery to really care. 

she’s learned that no matter where you are, the town is fairly the same. homes and cobble roads, all converging down towards a town centre. businesses of every kind lining the outskirts, church standing tall and proud right in the middle. 

this, however. an abandoned cluster of circus like tents and box cars. well, now, this she hadn’t ever seen. and she’s ecstatic.

could she have stumbled upon a place for herself to call home ? at least having some sort of roof over her head would bring a certain level of comfort. especially from the cooler nights and rainy days.

the closer she makes it though, she notices that it may not be quite as abandoned as she had assumed. and although she hasn’t spotted anyone per say, she does read over the poster that’s been tacked onto a post, at what she can only assume is the entranceway to whatever this was.

upon further investigation, and if she wracks her brain enough to figure out what day it is, this is for an event happening tonight. but what really catches her attention, is the large print, boasting the presence of an invisible man. because, how can anyone see him if he’s invisible ? and how on earth have they made an entire show about something you can’t see ?

but then, the word “freaks” also catches her attention, and well, she’s a freak isn’t she ? in her own way. a misfit, someone that’s nowhere near the norm. and so maybe, just maybe, she’ll wander back here tonight. see what the show is all about. what the people are all about. and most importantly, if maybe she can stowaway on this traveling event. she’s a freak, herself, isn’t she ? maybe she could blend right in.

waiting until the sun falls, she trudges her way back to that clearing, the scene in front of her much different than when she left it.

not a shred of evidence that this place once looked abandoned, as it’s now a hopping spot, people mingling about inside, a lineup outside waiting to pay the entrance fee. the tents and train cars now all lit up, each in different colours, casting the most rainbow like glow she’s ever been privy to.

from afar, it’s absolutely breathtaking. and the closer she ends up, the more in awe she becomes. she assumes the entire town is here, can’t imagine anyone ignoring the beautifully bright, multicoloured glow coming from the clearing.

she keeps to the outskirts, wandering around slowly, trying to find a spot for herself to sneak into. having been on the run, she has no means of legally purchasing anything. and luckily enough for her, she’s become fairly skilled at the art of pilfering, and breaking in.

and as awful as she feels every time she’s forced to resort back to her criminal ways, she’s always been reasonable. only taking the food she needs, not letting a bit go to waste. she’s not in the habit of stealing to ruin other peoples lives. it’s more along the lines of keeping herself alive. 

although it doesn’t necessarily make it better, she hopes god can forgive her. hopes that her true good nature shines through, no matter what. and so she finds a spot, behind one of the tents to slither her way in, joining the crowd as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

with all of the action surrounding her, her eyes aren’t sure where to land. there were so many different places to go, each of them lit up in their own hue, with big words on top of each doorway. “oracle,” “bearded lady,” “games - test your luck,” “conjoined twins,” “beauty of burlesque,” and so on.

and well, for once, she’s attending an event without her parents. without people to force her to follow, or to force her to leave before she’s ready. so she takes full advantage. deciding to go into every tent, she doesn’t want to miss a thing. it was the most excitement she’s had in a long time.

a warm smile gracing her lips, eyes sparkling, she works her way through the loop of units, having the opportunity to see not only the tallest man, but then the shortest lady right next to him. completely awestruck by the sheer size difference, her gaze flicks from one to the other. 

she hears the whispers around her, the way these people are talked about as if they were animals at the zoo. and for what ? because of their size ? she never thought she’d have much to sympathize about with the tallest man, but here she is. and being the sweet girl that she is, she sends them both a wave, and a friendly smile, before continuing on.

she ends up seeing all sorts of people, all of which were labeled as some sort of freak of nature, or so she keeps hearing from the towns people. it makes her heart crack with every whisper that gets carried to her ears. these people have done nothing wrong. they were born, and their bodies did something different. she can almost bet that they’re all much more kind and sympathetic than any of these “normal” people walking about, paying good money to gawk at humans that were most likely shunned for the same general reason as her.

as she wanders more and more, noting that people are starting to gather around the large tent in the centre, making her way there as well, wondering what the commotion could possibly be, she starts to think about god again.

she can’t possibly fathom that god, this being that’s supposed to judge you based on your good deeds, is quite pleased with the way the people that preach goodness, are treating humans that are just a wee bit different than they are. wasn’t jesus all about helping thy neighbour ? no matter what or who that may look like. how far we’ve seemed to come as a society.

but she wants to be adamant, she doesn’t hate god. how could she ? he brings her comfort, and peace, and love. especially in the moments she needs it most. but the older she gets, the more she starts to hate religion. none of it seems to make sense to her anymore. 

on that note, her train of thought is quickly cut off once she enters the large tent, taking a seat. looking around, she notices that this is the only tent with different coloured lighting. swirls of reds and blues and pinks and oranges and greens, all lighting up the middle of the open ring in the middle of the tent. there are also an array of mirrors all around, a few photographers spread out in between.

and then, for a moment, the lights stop swirling, and all converge onto the centre of the open space, a tall man walking out.

he was gorgeous. she wasn’t sure she’s ever seen someone so downright beautiful. with chocolate coloured curls resting atop of his head, winding down just over his ears, piercing eyes, beautiful porcelain skin reflecting all of the colours in an almost shimmering glow. his clothes were extravagant, dressed in all white, surely as a way to reflect the different hues.

her jaw is slightly slacked, body buzzing, as she can’t seem to look away from him. and honestly, she doesn’t want to. she thinks that if she had to look at him for the rest of her life, she wouldn’t be missing out on much. her palms were sweaty and her heart was beating erratically, and is this what a crush is supposed to feel like ?

as his eyes flick up, looking around the crowd, gaze falling on hers, a small smirk taking over his features, she knows she’s been caught staring. she quickly snaps her mouth shut, looking away from him in sheer embarrassment.

she was nervous. didn’t want him to single her out. she’d dye of stage fright, she thinks. she’s never understood how people can stand up in front of hundreds of others, all eyes on them. it’s the most awful thing she can think of.

she chances to look back at him, thankfully his eyes wandering around again, before his arms lift, beckoning the attention of the room, everyone instantly going quiet.

“hello everybody !” and oh, he’s british too. “welcome to the greatest show. i’m harry, or as people like to call me, the invisible man,” he smiles wide, taking a twirl around the open ring.

well he’s not invisible at all, she thinks. she can very clearly see every bit of beauty, that god decided to bless him with. and for a moment, she’s never been more thankful to be looking at someone that very much isn’t invisible. that is, until her eyes fall on the mirrors behind him. 

she can see the crowd, see the lights, see the different photographers. but as he moves and dances around, not a single mirror has picked up his figure. 

how is he doing that ? how is the crowd reflected back in the distance, but he’s completely missing from the image in the mirror.

as his portion of the show continues on, she feels her heartbeat accelerate, her fingertips buzzing to find out more. she can’t fathom what she’s seeing, and based on the reactions around her, she isn’t the only one.

she thought she was intrigued when he came out, but she’s definitely intrigued now. even more so, when the photographers start snapping pictures, the flash blindingly bright in comparison to the coloured lights floating around the open space.

and once the photos start slipping out of the polaroid cameras, he’s not in any of them. as if this harry character wasn’t standing in front of her at all. 

he rounds the ring, shaking hands with a few people, she assumes as a way to prove that he is real, and he is really there. but how can a man completely disappear ? almost as if light passes right through him. but it doesn’t, because she can see all the beautiful colours reflecting right off of him.

she hasn’t taken her eyes away from him for the entirety of the show, both in hopes that she can figure out how on earth he’s doing what he’s doing, and for her own pleasure, creating the most intricate mental image of him that she can. 

as she watches him move around so gracefully, engaging with the crowd, making them laugh, making them ohh and ahh, she lets her mind wander. he really is the most gorgeous human she’s ever been blessed enough to see. and for a moment, she lets herself fantasize about what it would be like to cuddle up with him. what it would be like to be lucky enough to kiss him. 

she knows it would never happen, could never happen. she’s not in the right body, and really, how could anyone love her in that way ? especially if she can’t really be the entire person they’d want in return. 

but harry’s moment is coming to an end, the entire crowd standing to the feet, clapping and cheering, clearly enjoying the main attraction.

as harry’s eyes scan the audience, soaking in the moment of applause, his eyes lock on hers again, another little friendly smirk taking over his features. she quickly looks away, embarrassed to have been caught a second time. with a bout of paranoia, she swears that he can read her mind, must surely know that she’s dying of a schoolgirl crush on him. why else would he be looking at her like that ? twice no less.

but then, suddenly, all the lights go off, the entirety of the tent left in pure darkness. a sudden gasp from all the people around her. and just a moment later, they’re turned on again, harry nowhere to be seen, spectators sighing in relief, starting to flow out of the room. 

as she exits the tent, the buzz around the grounds has grown exponentially, everyone ecstatically chatting about harry’s performance, trying to decipher how he does what he does.

her mind is reeling. she’s not sure what to focus on, the amazing performance she just saw, or the gorgeous man she was watching. because in both instances, she almost can’t believe her eyes. 

she lets herself be stumbled around with the crowd, still making her rounds, her mind preoccupied with harry. he was such a mystery. she wanted to talk with him, wanted to spend some time with him. honestly, she finds herself gravitated towards him. a man she’s never met, she scolds herself, because really, she needs to calm down.

having no one to talk to, no excitement in her life, just slowly drifting through it all for weeks now, was probably catching up to her. maybe she was delirious. and that’s when her eyes flick to a tent, glimmering in purple light, “oracle” written over the entrance of the tent.

and well, she definitely isn’t one to ignore a sign. so she walks in, her senses invaded with purple, candles burning all around the small space, gemstones of a multitude of colours spread around, and a lovely looking young lady sitting at a table in the centre.

“hello,” she smiles, “i’m clara. clara the clairvoyant, come sit,” she hums, beckoning her over.

“clara the clairvoyant ?” she smiles, sitting in the chair opposite her.

“yeah, i know,” clara giggles, shrugging her shoulders. “to be fair, when my parents named me, they had no way of knowing what i’d become. it’s something i laugh about now. like the universe wanted to play a little joke.”

“i like that,” she laughs along with clara, enjoying the first tiny bit of cozy conversation she’d had in a long time. “i’m lady bug.”

“lady bug ?” clara hums, one eyebrow raised. “m’gonna assume that comes with a nice little story. maybe some time you’d like to share it with me,” she smiles, almost knowingly, as her hands reaching instinctively for one of her card decks, starting to shuffle the cards as they speak. “but for now, i’m assuming you’re here for me to tell you about your future ?”

“honestly, i was just toying with the question of how delirious i am,” she sighs around a laugh. “then i landed on your tent. figured it was a sign. i guess i’m here for anything. anything that feels right.”

“hmm, i like you,” clara murmurs, almost more to herself. but it makes her smiles none the less, hearing such a sweet remark. it’s been a very long time since she remembers being complimented. “alright, well, lets draw a few cards, see what happens.”

and so she watches. watches as the cards flow through clara’s hands, shuffling them so eloquently. something she’s obviously done time and time again. the wear and tear on the cards she was shuffling seemed to be a clear indicator of that as well.

as clara lays out a few cards, she hums, smiling, “you’re searching for home. you’ll be finding it sooner than you think. it doesn’t come without a price, though, does it ? you haven’t had the easiest past.”

“n-no,” she stutters quietly, “i haven’t. i’m looking fo-“

“happiness, acceptance, love,” clara cuts her off, adding a slight suggestive tone to the latter, a smirk as she makes playful eye contact with her. “you know, we’ve all been there,” she adds more seriously.

“we ?” she asks.

“all of us,” clara nods, waving her arms around. “everyone that’s a part of this show. we come from all over europe, searching for a place that would accept us, love us.”

“that’s what i need,” she whispers, hoping, praying, that this may be her way in. she liked clara. wasn’t getting any off vibes from her. and if she seemed to like this place enough to stick around, well, that’s a good sign, right ?

“are you asking to join us ?” clara asks, smiling, a knowing glint in her eyes.

“yeah,” she nods, adding with more vigour, “yes, i guess i am.” could it really be that easy ? did she just find herself a place to stay ? some company ? maybe even a friend ?

“great, well, lets go introduce you to harry,” clara quickly stands, excitement evident in her tone. 

“wait. what ?” she asks, her heartbeat suddenly erratic at the mention of harry. 

“oh, he kind of has to approve of you. he’s like our leader,” she explains. “not in a bad way, you don’t have to be scared. just that, well, this is his show. he’s the one that’s brought us all together. the one that’s given us a home.”

shit, she thinks to herself. well that’s that. there’s no way she’ll be allowed to join. she has nothing to offer. she must not hide her disappointment well, clara offering her a soft smile.

“really, lady bug, don’t be scared. he comes off as a bit of an asshole at first. please understand he’s very protective of everyone here,” clara coaches her, taking her hand, and leading the way to the set of train cars lining the back of the setup. “just be yourself, he’ll love you, i promise,” she smiles encouragingly, stopping in front of a specific cart, knocking on the door.

“come in.”

Part 4

……

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

tags : @daphnesutton @niallthebadboi @gorlsinmultifandoms @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @cc-horan

[aluckiicoin]

Gua can't really write yet, but he has learnt how to send voice messages. It's sometimes easier to say things that way than doing it face-to-face. He hesitates for a moment, but then he presses send.

[msg -> Ven]: «voice message»

"Hi, I don't know how to s-start, but I feel like this n-n-needs to be said. I don't think you hate me or anything, but I don't w-want to come in the w-way between you and Sampo. I know he wants me to s-s-stay, but you don't seem to want me around, which is f-fine, I totally understand that, no hard f-feelings or anything. Just... let me know if you want me to leave. I don't w-w-want to cause problems and I can handle myself on my own and Sampo can find another kid, a better one, if he w-wants to. Maybe you two can even get a baby together, you could raise that baby as your own instead of having me. I'm not w-w-worth any trouble. So... just let me know and I'll leave, okay."

He was out and about in the cold, hurrying from one appointment to the next when his beacon gave out the shrill sound that signalled an incoming message. It wasn't the melody he had assigned to his dear rat, neither the blaring sirens that would signal a work message. So, it left either spam – fairly unlikely given Jarilo-VI was still rather unknown and the few sources of scam mails would also know him and his number and therefore not dare to cross his established influence. In the end he found shelter underneath a roof over another person's doorway to read the words directed at him. Then he had to find out that it was not a written message at all. It was a rather long voice mail or voice message from no other than the Foxian Sampo had taken in. Little Guā had reached out to him in word not text. Aventurine was completely unprepared to what he would have to listen to. It was... heartbreaking, really. With the words spoken his grip around the beacon intensified. Ah, it was his fault, really. While his dear thief was always warm and open – he was quite the opposite. No matter how grand and flashy his persona was, outside of the spotlight the blonde was cautious, aloof and... somewhat reclusive. Yet he certainly did not want to give off the impression that he did not want the boy around. He could however see how the young one came to the conclusion. It was his avoidance, probably. The gambler was always worried to make things worse given he had no experience with actually raising a child. Everything he knew and learned were things coming from a far darker place than he would like Guā to be. Now, how was he supposed to answer that message? There were no proper words to begin with, especially not over phone and telling the boy they had to talk would likely only increase the anxiousness. So he settled on the snowed in steps, sighing deeply, a hand rubbing against his eyes. He could do this. Avgin were supposed to have silver tongue after all.

“I am aware a voice message might be easier for you but this is hardly something that should be discussed via phone.”, he started, leaving the statement as an message as it was before settling onto explaining further. “Neither of us wants a baby. And I will not tell you to leave. But – I will tell you to remember this because we will have to talk about it in person when I return.”, even if neither of them would be happy about doing so.

[chaoticfandomgirly]

Hiii, if you send me some of the scenes in your fic I might see if I can draw somthin! I do love drawing things for people's fics! Just send me a msg and I'll see what I can do. Sorry if I'm slow to respond tho I'm (trying) taking a brake from posting for a bit cus of a personal loss

Oh my god! I never had a fanartist give me an offer like this...I mean, I have never approached one before (I'm always so intimidated).

Also, I hope you're well. Please take all your time.

As for my fic, I had been working on a Hogwarts Founders fic, with Godric/Salazar pairing. Helga and Rowena have OCs for their pairing. Though, I had taken a break from writing it because of how swamped I am with work, and the story has too much world building.

I don't have a specific scene as such, but I think I would love Salazar and Godric on the roof of their home while Salazar teaches him about the stars. It's kind of like very central to the fic. I can DM you the specific para....although, what I would totally love is for you to like my fic to draw something because it's a really niche fandom. I don't want you to draw something that not a lot of people would see (though I hope that this fandom grows with time) and something you didn't really connect with in the first place.

So, I will DM you and then it's totally your decision. Thank you so much for your offer. I can't tell how elated I am! It's like a dream come true.

[madamlaydebug]

Hidden deep within your brain the pineal gland is regulating daily and seasonal rhythms in response to sunlight. Unfortunately, accumulating neurotoxicity, inflammation, and calcification, is silently crushing this critical gland.

Pineal Purpose

The pineal-body is a pea-size pinecone-shaped endocrine gland weighing just 0.1g and floating in its own pool of cerebrospinal fluid, above the roof of your mouth. It contains photoreceptive cells that switch on, and off, hormone and neurotransmitter production on or off in response to sunlight.

Seeds, greens, avocados, and burro bananas - make sure you fuel pineal production. Dr. Sebi taught us that “Real Soul food is food that enhances the Soul, our central Sun, our carbon. Fruits, vegetables, grains, this is REAL food.”

Master Conductor

The pineal gland controls other endocrine glands, interlinking the brain with the body via hormones and neurotransmitters. Acting like a biological-clock, the pineal gland coordinates our interaction with the sun:

Rhythms: sleep and wake cycles, seasonal responses.

Reproduction: fertility levels and sex hormone production.

Regulation: growth, body temperature, and blood pressure.

Immune: activation, tumor suppression, cell rejuvenation.

Neurotoxins and Calcification

Toxins cause inflammation, reduce mental efficiency, and deregulate hormone production. Sleep disorders, depression, and neurodegeneration (e.g. Alzheimer’s) are all associated with calcification of the pineal gland.

Deposits of chalky calcium restrict the gland, reduce its size, and impede the production of neuro-endocrine substances. The pattern of pineal calcification is similar to teeth-enamel, and fluoridation (water and toothpaste) is linked to the destruction of this enigmatic gland.

Detoxification, Relaxation, and Nutrition

Chronic inflammation causes calcification. Reducing exposure to inflammatory neurotoxins begins to restore the correct mineral balance, and decalcify the pineal gland:

Fluoride: highest concentration in the body found in calcified tissue in the pineal gland.

Chlorine: public water is bleached with chlorine, associated with neurological birth defects.

Aluminum: leaches from pots, pans, and foil, associated with plaques seen in Alzheimer’s.

Sugar & chemical sweeteners: over-stimulate and damage neurons, reduce dopamine.

MSG & derivatives: confusingly labeled, many processed foods include this neurotoxin.

Endotoxins: bad bacteria in the gut produce toxins that inflame the gut and brain.

Stress: prolonged fear is toxic, causes the amygdala to shrink, and emotional fatigue.

The next step is supporting the brain to clear the waste and rejuvenate:

Sleep: at night the brain is ‘washed’ clean, detoxified, and replenished with nutrients.

Hydration: to bathe the brain and pineal gland you need to keep fluids flowing.

Meditation: like exercise for the brain, rewires, and strengthens your emotional health.

Berries (except cranberry): reduce free radical damage and nourish with flavonoids.

Coconut oil: alternative fuel for the brain which produces less oxidative damage.

Apples, seeded grapes & prunes: are high in boron which naturally displaces fluoride.

Tamarind: increases fluoride output in urine, helps retain zinc and magnesium. Fresh organic tamarind pulp or paste is easily mixed with water into a sweet and sour flavored drink, add a little agave if the taste is too lip-puckering!

•Dr. Sebi

[junjiie]

can i hv a little more about that mark murder plot.. :o

STOP IT WOULD BE SOOO i dont hv any concrete ideas they were js turning in my head like a washing machine.. but i will yap semi in depth for you now because im bored and may want to expand \(>o<)ﾉ 

semi-big apt complex.. someone’s just been pushed down the stairs or off the roof if we’re going crazy extreme. it’s not a particular big building but it is kinda fancy (ground floor is a lobby type fancy..) and everyone is SHADYYYYY like not strangers from hell crazy but they still have things they’re not telling anyone.

police wrap it up as an open-shut suicide but mark wld fs not believe a bar of it 😭 he’s close to the victim—as in, knows that they’ve got enough people in their bad books that would take it a step further and kill them. he starts subtly poking around, making excuses to try and get into the apt the victim lived in to try and find further evidence and asking questions as inconspicuously as he can at tenant meetings.

speaking of the tenant meetings.. GOSSIP GALOREE they are talking all kinds of shit ant the victim and making the wildest things up that he might even get a bit confused—like yes he doesn’t actually believe victim was killed by a ghost that they’d angered by moving into their old apt but still.. What if..

he starts to think he’s getting somewhere, maybe finds a phone wedged under their mattress and breaks open even more leads, talks to even more people who knew the victim, etc etc. he starts calling himself marklock in his head it’s so serious at this moment. until he finds something that makes him think he’s gone too deep—messages mentioning him. pictures, texts, notes, whatever. he knows they’re about him, and it scares him SHITLESS.

he’s no doubt been working with ( ) this whole time (mayb they also know the victim? started off as awks acquaintances but now they’re partners in crime-solving, or something) but this is when he cuts them off. he’s scared, he’s paranoid, and maybe this is all a ploy? maybe ( ) is who did it?? ( ) used to know where mark kept his spare door key, but now when they go to check he’s removed it. they carry on separated.

until mark goes even further, despite how scared he is, despite how he can’t take five steps down the street without looking over his shoulder, despite how he can’t say hello to the man in the lobby these days because he’s too paranoid, and finds exactly the same things to do with ( )—msgs, letters, etc. they might be next as well. and he’s just pushed them away, blocked their number, and sealed himself off. shit.

shit indeed!!!! shit fuck we’re really in it now!!!!!! he stews over it, still too stubborn to actually reach out, and stays digging. and finds even more on ( ). so much that it’s practically crystal clear the next body they’re finding at the bottom of the stairs or dead on the pavement is theirs. it’s past three in the morning when he makes this discovery, and he’s delirious as he books it out of his apt over to theirs. he knows where they keep their spare key, too—but the door’s already cracked open, and he’s fearing the worst, but tries to stay as silent as possible as he walks in and grabs a knife from the block as he goes. for protection.

which.. he’ll definitely need. walks into the living room with the window overlooking the city—the one he once loved to admire the view from, inbetween trying to solve the murder that got them there in the first place—to find ( ) being held against it, the culprit at their neck. he screams, ( ) screams, the culprit turns and it all really goes to shit. there’s yelling and he drops the knife or cuts himself and maybe ( ) too and it’s all just so dark—and then, the glass smashes. and it’s not him or ( ) that’s just fallen out of it.

it’s almost like a rerun of the months before. open-shut suicide, mark and ( ) putting on their best tearful performances and pretending they begged the culprit not to do it, but they just hadn’t listened. no one took any notice to the forgotten knife shoved under the sofa cushion, and they all just tried to move on.

the aftermath: mark and ( ) dump their phones, pack their things, and move the FUCK out of that apt complex! hopefully in the next there’s no murder, no secrets, and no need for spare keys—they live in the same flat, this time around.

[macabremacabra]

Letz Organize!!11!!11!!

Hey bitches, first longgg blog post from us, we'll be doing these as often as possible and makes sense here on tumblr! All of these posts will be linked in our IG stories and posts to further detail what's occuring and to be occuring in more detail:)

We'll also share art and creations from any of our friends on tumblr, and those who aren't, with their blessing:3

You'll have seen on our IG posts that we're currently fund raising for yet again another skip to further clear space in the house. This is our absoloute main priority atm as the clutter makes the living situation very difficult indeed!

Further to this you may also have read that we have plans for our home to become a more open and usefuls space for other trans people. We want to make clear that we do not want to become an open door social centre, we're very much still a vulnerable group of homeless trannies trying to lie low enough (while still being loud enuf) to keep this decrepit roof over our fragile lil heads, so any activities or events in our home will b on our terms, and out of hours visits will be by appointment only and chargeable by the hour;p

We face some obsrtacles before being able to achieve what we're setting out to do with our home and we need help!

Our entire ground floor is in disrepair. The floor upon entry of the front door is completely fucked up, if you've been to our gaf you've probably had a few near misses with it's many gaping holes. This makes our home and space difficult or impossible to access for anyone with mobility impairments, and dangerous for everyone. If you can fix a floor, please get in touch. No one in the house drives, or has money for building supplies, making buying and transporting materials to fix the floor extremely difficult. If you cant fix a floor, but you can drive or help out with costs, , pls msg us!

We have two rooms currently unuseable, one full of old rubbish, with a caved in sealing, that with the roof removed and connected with our back garden could make a wonderful outdoor space for friends and friends 2 b of the house to enjoy in the nicer weather:)

Our other fucked up room, dubbed the "shit room" is a v big room, but its full floor to ceiling with furniture. We would love to arrange a day for anyone to come and pick what they like from the room. We'll keep everyone updated on when this will happen on our social channels, but in the meantime if you'd like to volunteer to help pick through and clear out the room let us know.

We also have a small yard between the caved in roof room and the shit room. It's also full of furniture. The back door is blocked as items were thrown in from above, so the only way in and out is from above, over the one storey extension at the rear, meaning most large objects, like bed frames, will have to be removed via that route. Depending on the resources we have and the help we can get, it might just be doable:)

We've had lots of talks in the house about what we would love to do with our space and how it could benefit the wider, and especially the homeless trans community.

We plan on actively sourcing injection supplies and provide them to whoever needs for no cost. We plan to focus on getting the common supplies used for injecting hrt but this will be a no questions asked system. We will tell you what we have and ANYONE can take some. We will not be able to take sharps back of you but will try have a supply of sharp bins. We also are thinking of setting it up in a way so it is completely anonymous too. You text ahead and we have it waiting at the door. Either way we know that are people out there struggling to get supplies and we wanna help.

One of the rooms we mentioned earlier in the post is planned to be a function room of sorts, providing a free venue for groups struggling to afford or secure for any other reasons, a venue for meetings or whatever else. Close friend of the house Xav will be hosting pole dancing classes here, hopefully within the coming few weeks!!! Very excited abt this. We've also thought about maybe a clothes library/xchange one night a week, tranny trad sessions, and most importantly more floor space for cans on the weekends:}

We're open to any proposals for uses of the space once we have it cleared out, so let us kno:)

Outside of the house, we're planning to organise a day for skating once a week, where anyone with a board can come and meet up and have a skate, more experienced skaters can share tips and help those of us trying to learn or imrprove. Message us and we'll make a groupchat soon on whatever platform is most convenient to organise:)

Thats all for now, this was hard to sit down and type and will probably be even hard to actually read so ty:3