#my own writing experience!!

[anatomical-puppet]

my source is that i am autistic about horror

[nothingbutnowhere]

I'm just imagining getting Simon to take better care of himself. Which includes using actual cleanser instead of scrubbing his face with dish soap to get the eyeblack off, using proper moisturizer so his face doesn't get so itchy under the mask, and treating his acne. Salicylic acid proves to be not enough, so you show him how to use benzoyl peroxide. ("A little goes a long way, so I better not see this half empty tomorrow.")

And it's working! His skin is looking better and he even seems pleased about it!

Eventually he's called for a mission and you send him off with his skin care, making him promise to use it, and to get home safe.

24 hours later your phone pings in Simon's special ringtone. You hurry to check the message. And burst out laughing at the picture of his mask laying on the bed, face print bleached orange from the benzoyl peroxide.

Another message pings, this time from Johnny, a picture of Simon looking confused with his bleached mask on.

"were callin him lt pumpkin now"

...

More Simon: masterlist

I do NOT consent for my works, part of my works, or my ideas to be used for ANY form of AI.

[daisywords]

writing is so silly because you have to maintain the understanding that you're not more specialer than anyone else and your work needs improvement and you have more to learn. but also you have to fully believe that your stuff is amazing. mindblowing. masterpiece the likes of which no one has ever seen before. you really have to hold these contradictory beliefs next to each other and force them to play nice. it's like shoving your shoulder angel and devil into a "get-along shirt." It doesn't make any sense. But if you don't, you're not going to get anywhere

You have to pursue what your writing Could Be with dogged determination while unflinchingly perceiving what it Actually Is. You have to accept that you're not more deserving or likely to succeed than any other writer, but you also have to love and honor and cling to your own specific mad genius because no one else is going to do it for you. Writing is really hard and it's also really worth it.

[amazinglyashy]

Rafayel is for the ones who want to heal

Rafayel is for the ones who grew up so fast- an adult at age ten, a parent to sisters and brothers even younger, and a seasoned therapist your parents turned to for situations you shouldn't even learn until high school.

Rafayel is for the ones who want to heal their inner child, pushing and shoving each other over who gets to play next at the arcade, who gets to be stronger in a playfight, who ends up the least covered in paint after a tussle- tongues out and incomprehensible sounds coming from each others mouths to insult the other wordlessly, hands making inappropriate gestures before lunging to slather another color across skin.

Rafayel is for the ones who think they need a miracle to protect them- a God willing to step in and protect them from whatever might be harming them. Because a God should be able to fight any demon, right? Any terror that's threatening you? And he's safety in the pain, because what is the rage of a God compared to the quiet terror you've been experiencing forever at the hands of what harms you?

Rafayel is for the ones who want the love they never got to have, who want the man who waited centuries for you only to wait even longer. The man who chose you through every horror, every single bad thing you ever did and will do, and will continue to choose you over his people, his home, even fate itself.

Rafayel is for the unorthodox healing, for smacking his hand for cheating at kitty cards when you would never dare to anyone else. For raising your voice at him when you didn't even have a quiet one before. For dancing to yourself in the street because you see him swaying side to side and you want to join him, despite the people around you. For the ones whose younger selves would look on in shock at who the stranger was before them, doing every quietly courageous thing they may have dreamed of once before.

Rafayel is for the ones who want to heal.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I came here for the silly haha doodles, but I've stayed for the absolutely blazing commentary in the tags. Your analysis of this story is so so so good! Thanks for all the work and thought you put into this!

I am just a silly little comics blog. I am not hiding anything in the tags, no way. Never.

[miitopia-cake]

I wish some aces would stop excluding other aces with complex sexual experiences. like I get why but you have to realize that being ace does not mean they don't enjoy sexual experiences and it's weird when you complain about allo people and boil it down to "people who have sexual experiences" and also shame people for their sex life and kinks as if your own community doesnt INCLUDE those people. because there are other aces out there who still masturbate, who feel sexually attracted to their own body, who barely experiences sexual attraction but still enjoys sex, who like consuming sexual media, who like sfw kink. being ace is so so much more complex than just "disliking sex". and also aromantic exclusionism in the same genre of posts is something i see a lot. especially aro allos. I hate hate hate seeing a community that SHOULD be inclusive boil down sexuality and exclude people.

[tea-cat-arts]

Shen Yuan getting transported into pidw isn't "the system punishing him for being a lazy internet hater," but instead representative of "step 1 of the creative process: getting so mad at something you decide to go write your own fucking book" in this essay I will

[goosewizard]

do you ever think tommy lashed out after exile in the hopes that he would get hurt again? that he bit the hand that fed him and kept fucking biting just so he’d get hit? that the quiet and the gentleness and being treated like a baby bird with a broken wing was the worse option? at least when he got hit it was over fast. at least the pain was quick and sharp and couldn’t stay forever. gentleness only brings sharper, crueler things down the line, so tommy would prefer the bloody nose or black eye or broken arm thank you very much. so he bites and bites and gnaws and chews up his relationships and waits for the pain that won’t come. because at least this meant it was his choice to be alone. no one could take away what he had willingly given up.

[thenecropolix]

I don't know who to send this ask so I'm gonna leave it out here for the public because it just came to me out of the blue: locomotive literature

And I don't mean literature about locomotives, but rather literature written by locomotives

Train biographies detailing their lives on the railway and documenting how things have changed since they were first built

Ghost writers publishing literary works written by trains

Trains with human editors sitting on their buffers as they write down what their engines say and making adjustments for those especially picky or who's words cannot be transcribed because they will be banned otherwise (looking at you Duncan)

Just

Train authors you guys

[harmonysanreads]

I just finished reading the Phainon where reader is sick. And woahh it's so well-written?? I LOVE IT. like an insanely devoted yandere like Phainon?? he's so delulu... Poor reader, THEY SOUND SO DONE OMG I can just imagine them doing this when Phainon started yapping how much he loves them::

Like I can already feel their frustration when some1 so delusional it makes you irritated sm, ESPECIALLY WHEN HE KEEPS BREAKING INTO YOUR HOUSE

Reader when Phainon breaks into their house for the 6th time::

LMAO I LOVE THIS

You gave me ideas to make more memes for the interaction ehe

[vaguely-concerned]

the question is who taught lucanis to knit. was it something he already knew how to do or is he picking it up over the course of the game as part of his 'if I manage to cram enough hobbies in there I won't have to sleep again ever. easy' experiment. did he learn it out of a book (as a sometime knitter, a horrifying thought but I wouldn't put it past him). as hilarious as I find the mental image of caterina with knitting needles I do not believe in it, did he pick it up from someone in the household staff growing up the same way he did cooking. is the sweater he wears with his introductory armour his own work (very funny if so it's just so. incredibly neutral toned and sensible.) I understand why he never does it on screen because animating knitting is the devil's own work and bioware were right to dodge right past it no one should wish themselves that kind of pain, but do you think off-screen he's using it the same way davrin does whittling during team meetings and book club nights (for real the grandmas were so right for this: knitting during social group situations is a neurodivergent life hack like you wouldn't believe if doodling isn't your thing/isn't doing it for you). it's that or sharpening his knives and some people seem to get a bit nervous about that so he mostly sticks to the knit one purl one of it all. does he make things for the team. for romanced rook perhaps. boring but useful things like socks and scarves, to be clear. I think mr. 'I made you a cake (cautiously marital intent)' would not mean to impress just make sure your feet weren't cold jogging around the heights of athim killing darkspawn. knitting more socks for harding so she won't get cold walking around everywhere in her fereldan *checks notes written on palm* clogs. some of taash' outfits... you think rook and lucanis are letting them walk around the anderfels like that without at least a token sensible scarf on even tho adaari are built different in terms of body temperature. I say no not in my lighthouse they would team up and mother hen them to shathann levels before they'd let that happen. (the scarf has dragons on it taash thinks it's kind of cool actually.) a bobble hat for manfred not because he really needs it but because he wanted to feel included. assan indignantly tries to steal it and fly away with it so he gets his own scarf to promote peace between the lighthouse little guys and it works. help.

[the-teufort-nine]

Ignore this if you’re uncomfortable with it no worries. Can we do an reader x merc (particularly medic, sniper, engie, demo, spy, and maybe heavy) Where they find reader greening out (super pale/passing out) and the mercs have to “save” you? Establish relationship please! Super hurt/comfort! I need a pick me up after a bad bad sesh.

anon you're so real for this. The one and only time i tried weed i greened out so bad that it scared me off drugs 4 ever (don't do edibles in the woods kids!)

I hope this makes u feel a bit better. get plenty of rest & water <3

Mercs x GN!Reader | Too Much THC

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ Hurt/Comfort | SFW | Cw: drugs, bad trip, thc overdose symptoms, vomiting ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Featuring:

Medic, Sniper, Engie, Demo, Spy, and Heavy

Scenario: When Respawn goes down for a routine bug check and maintenance, Reader decides to take advantage of the ceasefire to partake in some of Pyro's "special" brownies. However, things take a bad turn when the fire bug's edibles turn out to be too much for them to handle.

🕊️+Medic+🕊️

"Y/N? Taube, are you in here?"

The effort it took to pry your eyes open was truly Herculean, though you couldn't, for the life of you, remember when it was you'd actually closed them. Nausea made your vision swim, and despite your best efforts, you couldn't respond to your boyfriend's concerned voice. Words seemed beyond your capabilities, as was doing more than slowly blinking your eyes.

You were in the medbay, slouched down on the floor with your back pressed against a frigid metal cabinet. With great, great difficulty, you recalled that you'd stumbled in here when you began to realize that something was wrong, hoping to find Medic tending to his birds or riling up the living bread loaf he kept in a large jar, or whatever the hell it was he did on your rare days off. However, the medbay had been empty, and your legs had decided that they'd had enough of holding your weight.

"Y/N? Pyro told me you looked as though you vere going to be sick before you ran off, and zhat zey haven't been able to find you since. Please tell me you're in here, because ve searched the rest of ze base and I don't think I could handle you getting stuck inside ze walls again."

The tiled floor in front of you was starting to look like a choppy ocean, so you squeezed your eyes shut and knocked your head back against the cabinet behind you. It made a dull 'thud', and you heard the sound of footsteps approaching you.

Success had never felt so headache inducing.

"Ach! Mein liebling, are you okay?" Medic's voice was suddenly right next to you, and you jolted slightly, eyes opening in panic.

Your boyfriend was crouched next to you, an extended hand held aloft in the air as he waited for you to settle. When your breathing evened out once more, he gently wrapped and arm around you, frowning when he felt how cool you were to the touch. Even through your uniform, the doctor could feel that you were much colder than you should be, especially given the New Mexico heat that permeated throughout the rest of the base.

"I think I'm paralyzed." You responded, eyes moisiting as you leaned into the touch, "M' legs stopped working when I tried to find you."

"Y/N, I promise you're not paralyzed. You're simply having an adverse reaction to ze cannabis you ingested." Medic soothed, before slightly jabbing the back of one of your knees. You kicked out with a yelp, drawing a slight chuckle from him, "See?"

Unfortunately, you were feeling more than a little sensitive at the moment, and it only took a moment before tears filled your eyes.

"Don't laugh at me!" you warbled, lip wobbling a bit as you voiced your hurt feelings.

The look of amusement on Medic's face was wiped off the instant he saw your tears, and he quickly shifted into damage control mode.

"Scheiße! Please don't cry, taube, I'm not laughing at you!" he pulled you in closer, letting you rest your head against his chest as he shifted his hold on you, getting ready to pull you to your feet, "Come now, you vill be alright. Let's get you to your room so you can warm up and lie down, ja? I do believe Pyro intends to bring you one of zeir, ah, what's the word, weighted blankets?"

You grabbed a fistful of his shirt and sniffed wetly, grateful that he'd changed into his casual clothes, because the smell of his usual work coat was far too 'hydrogen peroxide and blood' scented for you to handle right now.

"Will you stay with me?" you asked quietly, clinging to him as he helped you become vertical once more. "Please?"

Medic smiled and gently pet your hair, taking the brunt of your weight with little trouble as you staggered up onto your feet. "Of course. I vill stay with you until you feel better, and zhen I vill go kill Pyro for letting you run off by yourself in such a state."

"Mnh, no you can't kill Pyro. No Respawn, 'member?" you muttered into his chest, not wanting to pull away yet, lest the world turn into an optical illusion yet again.

"Ah, verdammt, must have slipped my mind." he tutted, voice tinged with false disappointment, "I suppose I vill simply have to settle vith cuddling you instead."

⎚-⎚⌖Sniper⌖⎚-⎚

"Roo?! Roo?! Bloody 'ell, I swear if you don't wake up, I'm gonna lose my damn mind!"

Consciousness was slow to return to you, but by God did it make sure you knew how much it didn't want to be here. The only indication that you were actually awake, aside from the sound of your boyfriend's panicked voice coming from somewhere above (behind? Christ, you couldn't tell at the moment) came in the form of a disgusting, semi-familiar taste in your mouth; the patented Dustbowl combo of sand and blood.

With a sputtering cough, you managed to pull your hands beneath your prone form and shoved yourself up enough to hack and spit the vile mix out. A shaky sigh of relief came from your boyfriend's direction, wherever that was, and suddenly there were hands patting your back, helping to clear your airways.

"Christ alive, Roo, you nearly gave me a fuckin' heart attack!" Sniper barked, though his voice was filled more with relief than any form of anger, "What the fuck are ya doin' out here?"

"What?" you croaked groggily, rubbing at your aching head, which felt as though it had taken a direct hit from one of Scout's bats. Hadn't you just been on your way to your boyfriend's camper van? "Where'm I?"

"Middle'a the damn battlefield, Roo." Sniper frowned, "Yer right lucky I was nearby an' spotted ya. Dunno how long you've been out here for, but ya look right crook, luv."

You groaned and sat up fully, nearly toppling over as a rush of dizziness washed over you. Sniper was quick to catch you, plonking himself right down in the dust behind you as he drew you in closer, hugging you to his chest. He listened to you breathe for a moment, watching as your face scrunched up as you licked gritty sand out of your blood-stained teeth, the sight reassuring him that you were, in fact, alive. It looked as though you'd somehow managed to fall off one of the nearby bridges, judging by the amount of bruises that were starting to form on your face and arms.

"Fucking Pyro." you hissed, before spitting out another mouthful of blood and dirt, "That is the last time I trust them to make edibles, Jesus Christ."

"Strewth, ya' took one'a the fire bug's eddies?!" Sniper ran a hand through his hair, dislodging his hat slightly, "No wonder ya' fell ass over backwards, you must be greened as all hell! It's a bloody miracle ya' made it this far!"

The australian slid one arm beneath your knees as he adjusted his hold, grunting as he wobbled to his feet. He was hardly the strongest mercenary on your team, but you didn't survive out in the Outback for most of your life, and then survive traveling around with 9 other lunatics to fight and die and fight again in an endless gravel war, without picking up some muscle.

"Right, let's get ya' to Medic. I'm willin' ta bet ya' broke somethin', givin' your right shit luck, darl." Sniper said, eyes flicking over your battered body. While he couldn't see any obvious signs of serious injury, it was obvious that you were in pain. "She'll be alright, Roo. The Doc'll fix ya' up, then you can rest up in the van. Sound good?"

You let out a weak approximation of an agreement, not feeling well enough to form a proper response. Instead, you tucked your face into your boyfriend's neck, smiling slightly when you felt his stubble scratch against your cheek. The scent of coffee and gun oil filled your senses as Sniper started off towards the medbay, and it gave you something to focus on other than the pain that radiated throughout your entire body.

The next time you wanted to get high, you'd just smoke with Sniper. It would be a hell of a lot less painful and embarassing.

🧰🔧Engineer🔧🧰

You were having a heart attack.

Your nails dug into the skin nearest your heart as you fought to calm the erratic organ, your breaths coming in rapid, pained pants. Cold sweat dripped down your neck as you panicked silently, unable to find your voice to call for help, to scream, to do anything. If you could just speak, then perhaps you could get Pyro's attention. The masked mercenary was lounging on their bed only a few feet away, their head tilted back as they gazed up towards the painting of a rainbow unicorn on their ceiling, nodding along slightly to the record the two of you had put on earlier.

The mega baboon heart in your chest, though incredibly useful in battle, was now working against you, the increased rapid blood flow causing you to feel lightheaded. If you didn't do something fast, you were going to pass out.

Taking the deepest breath you could, you attempted to call out to Pyro. Unfortunately, all you managed was a near-silent rasp, the attempt taking more out of you than you'd anticipated. You blinked, and suddenly you were on the ground, Pyro frantically mumbling in front of you. It was harder than usual to pick out their words, especially with how rapidly they were speaking, but you managed to glean that they were frightened by your collapse, and that they were going to go and find your boyfriend.

As quick as a wildfire during the dry season, Pyro left your field of view, throwing open the door to their room and running out. The slam of the door hitting the wall made you flinch, and made you very aware of the fact that you still weren't breathing right.

The panic that had left when you fell unconscious returned full force, and you writhed on the floor as a stabbing sensation radiated out from within your chest. No matter what you did, or how you positioned yourself, the pain would not relent, and your vision began to blur.

"Y/N!"

A southern-tinged voice broke through your panic, and suddenly there was a muscular arm supporting your back, tilting you up slightly. A warm, calloused hand gently rubbed your chest, applying a light pressure.

"Easy now darlin', ah got'cha." Engineer soothed, his own rapid breathing starting to level out. When Pyro had burst into his room in a frenzied panic, yelling about his partner suddenly passing out, he'd run out of there like the Devil himself had been nipping at his heels.

The gentle pressure and familiar voice of your beloved southern boyfriend slowly brought you out of your fear-induced panting. You blinked up at Engineer, a few tears slipping down your cheeks. A gloved hand gently wiped them away.

"There we go, sweetheart. Try'n match my breathin'." he murmured, continuing to stroke your cheek with his thumb, "That's it. You're doin' so good, darlin'."

You finally managed to take a deep breath, sighing in relief when the pain in your chest began to wane.

"Thank you, Engie." you said softly, leaning into your boyfriend's arm. Engineer smiled, and with his goggles pushed up as they were, you could see his eyes crinkle as his mouth turned upwards.

"It was no trouble, doll. I'm just glad you're alright." he said, gently pressing your foreheads together, "Y'gave me 'n Py a helluva fright. I think they just about burst into tears."

"Oh no." you said sadly, managing to sit yourself up as the topic of your conversation finally made it back to the room. Pyro warbled out an apology in between exhausted pants, the arsonist clearly wiped out from the 'fuck off amounts of weed in their system/dead sprinting to Engie's room and back' combo. "Ro-ro, it's okay! We'll just lower the dose next time, yeah?"

Engineer merely shook his head with a laugh as Pyro wheezed against the doorframe, a shaky thumbs up being your only response.

🍾🗡️Demo🗡️🍾

+ Soldier is here too. He's not your boyfriend, but he is boyfriend adjacent most of the time.

Oh dear God, why did no one warn you about the dangers of mixing weed with alcohol?!

"Aye, there ya' go, mo luaidh, just get it allll out." Demo comforted, rubbing your back while sharing a sympathetic look with Soldier.

The two men had invited you to come and drink with them after they had found you lounging on one of the common room couches, and although you were already feeling quite buzzed after hanging out with Pyro, you weren't one to turn down the opportunity to spend time with your two favourite boys.

Unfortunately, the liquor in your stomach had decided to start a war with the edibles already stationed there, and neither of them were being very kind as they knocked you on your ass with the shakes and forced you to upchuck your lunch into the nearest bucket.

"Demo, I think 'm dying." you groaned, before sticking your head back into the bucket, a wave of uncontrollable shivers wracking your body, "Tell Medic he can't experiment on my body, okay?"

Suddenly, you pitched forward, and it was only Soldier's quick reflexes and Demo's hand suddenly snagging the back of your shirt that kept you from face planting into your own vomit.

"Fuck off, yer not dyin'." your boyfriend insisted, though you could, through the sudden wave of dizziness that had assaulted you, hear the worry in his voice, "Ye just had a wee bit too much to drink, that's all."

"Weed's not helpn'." you managed to bite out, before vomiting once again.

"Yer high?! Christ, ah' bloody knew there was somthin' off about'cha!" Demo groaned, smacking his free hand onto his face. Beside him, Soldier grimaced.

"Son, take it from me, it's gonna get worse before it gets better. You WILL feel as though you are in the trenches, but we will help you!" he shouted, before remembering that loud sounds were probably the last thing you needed at the moment, "I could try contacting Merasmus? He made me some kind of wizard voodoo potion that helped me feel better the last time I was higher than an eagle."

"No." was the firm reply from both you and Demo. The last thing you wanted was Merasmus dicking around with his magic while you were greening out.

Another round of shivers ripped through you, making the bucket rattle in your grip as you fought to keep yourself upright. Soldier tucked his arm around your midsection as Demo resumed his back rubs. Their presence grounded you, and you smiled weakly, though neither could see it, since you were still face down in the bucket.

"Thanks, guys." you said, wincing as your stomach turned and your vision swam.

"Do ye want to try an' move to the couch, love?" Demo asked.

"Nah, I think I'd just end up down here again if I tried to stand up." you replied, "Will- will you two stay, though? I know you probably have better things to do, but..."

"Negatory, private! I have never left a man behind, and I will not start now!" Soldier stated, and Demo nodded in agreement.

"Solly's right, a thasgaidh, we're stayin' right here 'till yer all better."

🚬🔪Spy🔪🚬

There was someone in the base.

Now, usually that would be a given; you lived with nine other mercenaries, after all, but this was different. Your teammates were supposed to be out, taking advantage of the ceasefire to get some much needed shopping done. Even your boyfriend, Spy, who usually never accompanied the others, had gone along this time, citing a need to pick up a few things at the local post office. You had decided to stay, since you had been waiting for Pyro's 'special' brownie to kick in, and hadn't wanted to deal with the bustle of Tuefort while you were high.

Now, though, as you stood with your back against the corner of one of the hallways that led to the intel room, your trusty melee weapon clutched in your hands, you were sorely regretting your decision.

You swore you'd seen something moving around the base, always just out of sight. It had sent a thrill of fear through you and put you on high alert. Respawn was down; what if the other team had decided to risk a surprise attack? Take care of one of their enemies permanently? You were all alone, inebriated, with only a close range weapon to defend yourself. Easy pickings.

Swallowing hard, you let your gaze snap back and forth, a snarl pulling at your lips when you saw the air flicker slightly, just for a moment, at the edge of your vision. You whipped around, eyes wide and searching, your ears straining to pick up any possible sounds.

"Y/N?"

A scream tore itself from your lips, and you jerked your weapon up to a defensive position as you turned once more, this time to see-

"Spy?!"

Your boyfriend stood only a few feet away from you, hands raised defensively. You blinked, before shakily lowering your weapon, relief flooding you, "Oh, thank God its just you."

"Were you expecting someone else, mon amour?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"N- no I just-" you ran a hand through your hair, still feeling a faint prickle of unease dance across the back of your neck, "I kept thinking I was seeing someone moving around the base. I- I think maybe Pyro messed up the dose in their brownies, because I am freaking out."

Spy made a soft sound of concern, and stepped closer, extending a hand to rest on your cheek. You smiled at your lover, but something still felt... off.

'Jesus, I must be greening out bad.' You thought to yourself, leaning into Spy's touch.

"I'm sorry to hear that, mon bijou. Would you like to retire to my quarters? Or, if you'd like, I can bring you to yours?" Spy offered sweetly.

"Yeah, that'd be-" you started, before his words suddenly caught up to you, the weed in your system making you a bit slower to react, "I'm sorry, honey, what did you call me?"

"Mon bijou. A fitting name for someone as beautiful as you."

My jewel. The one name Spy didn't like to call you. He'd never given you the full story, just saying that it was a nickname he associated with an unsavoury character from his past.

This was not your boyfriend.

Swallowing the fear that threatened to overwhelm you, you gave the enemy Spy your best smile. "Aw, you flatter me, darling. Do you mind leading the way? I'm a bit out of it right now."

"But of course." he replied, turning to walk down the hall, fully expecting you to follow him.

The second you were sure he had turned fully, you swung, your melee weapon catching him in the side. The wet shhhhck! of metal cutting through flesh was promptly overtaken by the man's cry of pain and shock. As he crumpled to the floor, his disguise melted away, revealing the colour of your enemy team.

"I FUCKING KNEW IT!" You screamed, arms raised as you gripped your bloodstained weapon tighter. Your breathing picked up as your adrenaline kicked in, your whole body seeming to buzz.

The enemy Spy hissed in pain, his hand instinctively going for his knife, before you swung your weapon down again, barely missing the appendage. Had you not been higher than the moon, the masked man would have been short a hand. Realising he was in a losing battle, and a potentially permanent one at that, your enemy scrambled up and became cloaked once again, racing back down the hall and, presumably, out of your base, leaving a trail of blood splatters as he ran.

With the danger gone, you dropped, shivering and shaking so badly that your weapon rattled loudly against the ground. Your breaths came in shallow, wheezing gasps, and you had to fight to keep your lunch from coming back up. Not knowing what else to do, you curled up in a defensive ball, pressing your swimming head into your knees.

"Y/N! Merde, merde, merde! Y/N! Where are you?!"

You jerked back to awareness, sucking in a breath through your teeth, jaw aching with how long you'd been clenching it. The base was alive once again, though the familiar sounds of chaos seeming much more frantic than usual.

How long had you been dissociating for? Christ, you were lucky that enemy Spy hadn't come back to finish you off.

The sound of rapid footsteps reignited your panic, and you squeezed the handle of your weapon. Had the rest of the enemy team come to finish you off? It sounded like your team was the ones here this time, but how could you be sure? You'd been right last time, after all.

Suddenly, Spy, your Spy, rounded a corner, looking uncharacteristically frazzled. When he spotted you, you could see the relief on his face, plain as day.

No, no you couldn't trust him. What if this was another trick?

"Y/N! Oh, ma moitié, you're okay, thank God. We saw ze blood and-"

"Get back!"

Spy paused, clearly caught off guard by your aggression. Wobbling to your feet, you glared at the man before you, putting all your effort into staying upright. You wouldn't be fooled twice.

"Y/N?"

Your eyes flicked over him, searching for any obvious tells. When none presented themselves, you cautiously stepped forward, weapon extended. Spy eyed you warily, but didn't make any sudden moves. It wasn't hard to piece together that something had happened while they had been gone, and if this was what his partner needed to feel safe, then he would allow it.

Once you were close enough, you roughly tapped the blunt part of your weapon against where you knew you had struck the enemy Spy, watching for any indication of pain. Spy continued to look at you with concern, but the colour of his suit and mask didn't change. This really was your Spy.

A relieved sob tore itself from your throat, and you all but fell into your partner's waiting arms. Spy wrapped his arms around you in an instant, only wincing a little bit as you cried into his suit. This one was less expensive that his usual work wear, and he could excuse it getting a little wet if it was in service of your comfort.

"What happened, mon rayon de soleil? Who has frightened you so?" he questioned, wondering who exactly it was he needed to kill. You didn't scare easy, but considering when he'd left you'd just recently had an edible... well, he wasn't exactly surprised that you were emotional than usual.

You just cried harder, unable to wrangle your emotions. Everything was just too much, and you justed wanted the comfort of your boyfriend and teammates.

As if reading your thoughts, Spy gently maneuvered you so that you could lean on him and walk down the bloodied hall, "Shhh, shhh, it's okay, petit tigre. You don't have to speak now. Let us get back and let ze others know you're okay before zey tear ze base down looking for you."

You nodded weakly, and this time, you let the man lead you down the hall.

✊🥪Heavy🥪✊

"This was poor choice, yes?"

You squinted at your boyfriend, trying your best to look ticked off from your place beneath a mountain of blankets. You were already suffering, did he have to rub it in?

Now, to be fair, you did make a poor choice recently. That poor choice being the decision to eat three of Pyro's weed brownies. At the time, it had seemed like a good choice. What better way to spend a lazy ceasefire day than by getting high with your buddy? Well, things had quickly gone sideways when you realized that Pyro had no idea of how much was too much when it came to THC, and thus the two of you were now high as balls and greening out hard.

"Yes." you muttered, snuggling down deeper in your blanket nest as you continued to hold Heavy's hand. You'd been holding onto it for the past half hour, having asked the giant to hold your hand when you'd started to get scared, only to grip his hand like you were making a business deal.

"Hmm, good. Heavy does not think лапушечка will make the same mistake again." your boyfriend mused. "Would you like snack?"

"I do," you started, squinting harder as you tried to sit up, "but I can't move. My bones are soup."

"Do not worry. Heavy will fix."

Suddenly, you were being picked up by the back of your shirt, not unlike a kitten. Heavy sat you on his lap, letting you rest against his broad chest. He produced a bag of pretzels, and your eyes locked onto the salty snack, your stomach growling. You attempted to lift your arms, but your limbs had decided to go on strike.

Seeing your struggle, your boyfriend took pity on you. Heavy fished out a few of the pretzels and placed them in your mouth. Processed grain and salt had never tasted so damn delicious.

"I love you." you sighed, leaning against Heavy as much as you could. Nothing said true love like feeding your partner when they were hungry, in your opinion.

"Я тоже тебя люблю."

[boimgfrog]

it's always "autism acceptance" until the autistic person is weird, or fat, or a man, or has poor hygiene, or a POC, or makes unfunny jokes, or isn't a cute feminine gay, or is actually bad at communicating, or needs to have things explained to them, or is too loud, or too quiet, or needs to be told something multiple times to understand it, or has mannerisms that make people stare at them, or, or, or, etc. if you would show patience to the cute autistic girl who collects plushies and stims by flapping her hands then you MUST show equal patience to the large autistic boy who stims by humming or hitting his head and worms underwater welding into every conversation. I am no longer asking. your acceptance cannot begin and end with people you deem palatable.

[hyakunana]

Sponsor Switch!

[manicpixiefelix]

just a few modern!Saltburn social media headcanons from the oxford era

venetia is obviously trying her hand at being an influencer

she has more followers than felix and brags about it constantly but refuses to unblock him

oliver's only on linkedin at first because his high school guidance councillor told him he should be on it.

felix's oxford friends group chat is wild but nowhere near as bad as their snapchat group

their snapchat group is Feral and half the things they send while shitfaced would get them cancelled

current group chat name is SOCIALIST SLUTS INCORPERATED

felix's current name in the chat is Sir Oral Fixation 👅💦 

half the group blocked ollie when he tried to add them because only got proper social media after getting to oxford. he has a generic user name and no profile picture at first and they thought he was a bot.

farleigh gave Oliver the nickname 'WDE' in the chat but admitted that it stands for Weird Dick Energy. Felix changed Oliver's nickname to just Ollie and no-one's changed it since.

there is a second gc that felix and oliver don't know about :(

half of Oxford University Confessions on facebook are about Felix

annabel and india both follow a felix catton fan account on instagram but will say they got hacked if anyone points it out

farleigh runs the felix catton fan account and finds it hilarious that anyone follows it because he dedicates the entire thing to posting the most unflattering, blurry, up close, bizarre photos of felix he can manage to capture.

[beanarie]

first lines of 2025

tagged by @typicalopposite @loucifersbitch and @rcmclachlan ❤️❤️❤️

tagging @cliophilyra @setmeatopthepyre @ambernotember @livelaughlou

but if you did first lines already feel free to count this towards fuck it friday

--

The waiting room is flooded with sunshine, dust motes dancing in the space just outside the windows.

The first face Buck notices is Lucy's. She is shell-shocked, staring into the middle distance.

"They got him back," Buck says, and she slumps in her chair.

She breathes out forcefully. "Fuck," she says. "Okay."

Unless something changed in the last few months, she and Tommy aren't friends. Tommy liked her well enough, and there was definite respect, judging by the stories he told of work. But he kept a polite distance.

Buck takes the seat next to her.

Someone hands him a coffee at some point, no idea who. He's consumed by memories of Halloween night, sitting in a chair just like this one at the children's hospital. Tommy didn't even ask if he'd needed anything. He just showed up with a cup for him.

Lucy holds her own coffee between both hands, more a fidget object than a source of energy.