#my stress is actively causing more stress jesus fucking christ

[bywandandsword]

You ever get fatigued enough that you start seeing the white spots periodically for several days, but your body won't let you sleep for more than five hours at a time, no matter how much trazodone you take???

[lesbiansanemi]

I hate my roommate’s cat more and more with every passing day

[gorepill]

DANNY So I know you ship Polly with Curly and Jimmy but what is her relationships towards everyone else? Good, bad, meh?

!!! FUCK YES BRO IT'S YAPPIN TIME !!!

FIRST OFF ANYA; I like to think they're awesome friends tbh :) Polly really can't help but wanna take care of her, mainly just cause Anya is a couple years older than her daughter, so she's like "Augh...so young. My daughter would like you I think, do you wanna meet my daughter when we get back???" NOT THAT SHE INFANTALIZES ANYA OR ANYTHING, god now, after the shit her husband did when he was alive, no way she's gonna treat Anya like a poor lil baby. Pissed her off when it happened to her, but she is gonna do whatever she can to help and comfort her. *WHATEVER* it takes !!! "Just lemme know if y' want me t' break that freaks nose...! Really, I don't mind." BUT UNRELATED TO THAT CAUSE ANYA IS A DARLING THAT'S WAY MORE THAN HER TRAUMA OK. I do like to think they have sleepovers in each others sleeping quarters. I love thinking abt Polly doing Anya's nails, and giving that poor girl a well earned back massage cause FUCK OFF she needs it so bad. MAYBE would tell her abt her dead-husband as a "my 18-20 year old ass got thru that, and darlin' we can get you thru this." kinda way --- SWANSEA AND DAISUKE. Do not seperate those two. But I do like to think all 3 of them get sillay with it. I do like to think Polly and Daisuke convince Swansea to hillybilly hotwire like. a dvd player to the longue screen so they can all watch a movie occasionally- (movie monday in me head.... Polly wants to watch Despicable Me. Daisuke nods in agreement. Swansea complies...SAD; but don't worry, he can pick the movie right after!!) I like to think in an au where they survive and get back to earth, they'll all occasionally head out to a bar to have a drink. Swans pays cause, while he can handle his alcohol, Polly and Daisuke get two drinks in at most before they can't even see straight anymore. I also do like the idea of all three of them, but esp Swans and Polly, dancing cause it makes me happy :) joyous yayaya. Tho Swans does NOT like when Polly goes out of her way to sneak Daisuke an extra sweetner packet. ( "nahhh, let kid have a lil sweetner shit in 'is coffee! Let's be real Swans, I think he'd die if he drank it how we do...!"

----- OF COURSE WE'VE GOT CURLY CURLY CURLS. Smiles <3 lemme tell you I'm so normal about this man... Can not be overstated how mutual the feelings are. But also how Pllly is def the most active one there. Not ina "DO MORE NOW" why, but in the "I gotta go, gotta bring Cap'n a drink, poor man's prolly dehydrated." "Gotta go mop th' cock pit...haha whaaaat, boss man you're in here?? Ain't that craaaazy; hey can i sit there-" and plops right down in his lap. COUGAR'S ON THE REBOUND FROM HER PREVIOUS MARRIAGE and god damn she could not be more lovey about it. Would not tell him bout ex-husband past "Yeah... he existed!" Post Crash Curly, she's convinced (due to the stress fucking up her ability to think) that he did it though. Not sure why. She'll go into medbay when Anya's not there (bathroom break, perahps,_ and just stand over him. She'll either be holding an open bottle of mouthwash over him, contemplating pouring it all over his face to hurt him, or she'll be on her knees next to his cok,crying, cause why would he do that???? Why would he try to take them all out??? why the fuck does she still love him? She doesn't want to. She doesn't know the facts. ---- Jimmy.... oh jesus christ. She wants to snap his neck on some level, she wants him to be a better person on the other level, and on all levels he reminds her of her dead ass husband. Which makes the "hate him" and "want him to be better" levels even more extreme. She can get along well enough with him though. put on that professional coworker get along facade, and it's fine. Have a cig together in the bathrooms before she cleans the smoke smell out. Chit chat. both like "Shake That" by Eminem. I do like the idea that because she's actively nice to him, outwardly, in a way where she's not doing it to fawn, he straight up thinks she desires him carnally. And maybe some part of her, deep deep down, post-crash does. Not a part of her that will ever arise, though. "God you remind me of my ex-husband in the way I think you'd shoot me. But god, sugar, honey, Slimjim, I wish you'd do the last thing he did and BLOW YOUR FUCKIN' BRAINS OUT AND LEMME WATCH-" ----- COFFEE MACHINE She's on her knees, drinking straight from that dispenser, gluging that shit down and moanin on that shit.

[barin-mclegg]

Whatever, one more time.

This is not about Gaza specifically. This is not about anyone specifically. "Help two trans women pay rent" is also 'fundraiser or whatever" territory. I do not see how that makes me racist

I'm not actively stating anyone should die, that I don't pay to any charities, that my life is miserable, that I won't ever reblog. I could just as well be funding half of an orphanage in Kenia, or donating to a local homeless shelter, etc etc. You'll never know, because that classifies as private information, and you're mostly assholes that don't deserve jackshit from me.

I specifically said that I don't want people to send them to me. Personally. So, put them in my messages, in my asks (not relevant bc my ask box is permanently broken, but the point), don't tag me specifically. For two of those 3, you need to specifically go to my blog anyway. So this is the best way to make it clear it won't do anything but waste both of our time and energy. I think this is the most respectful way of making that clear.

Yeah it causes me stress to see fundraisers of all kinds in the wild. Whatever. Your blog, your business. I just don't interact, if there's a tag I block it, I just don't want to be there. Again, I think this is the most respectful way of dealing with it.

My personal situation, mental and physical health, exact fucking age (menta or physical), and all that buzz, is none of your business. Fuck right off. Any judgements made about me when I was being actively harassed and getting torture threats, death threats, and suicide baiting is NOT ACCURATE. Wanna guess why? That's right! Emotionally distressing situations have impact on someone's behavior and wellbeing! If you've harassed me, you're the bad person here. I don't care, yes you are.

I DO care. Again, emotionally distressing situation. I said more shit I don't mean, or at least not in the way that it'll be read by, again, people that don't KNOW OR UNDERSTAND ME. I care that bad shit happens in the world, but I can't do shit about it, so I mostly choose not to talk about it or educate myself. This also means I have no opinion on said subjects, because I'm not a fucking dickhead about not knowing things, like most of you.

Yes, my shittiness at communicating IS part of my disability. "ohh disbaility can't do that" Ohhhh so if you can decide why people can't do shit than maybe you should decide that everyone should have a cool life and be a reasonable person, huh? Shut up. You're just a big bitch, at this point. Yes, it's disability, yes, I'm diagnosed, no, you can't fucking know anything more than that. Or are you going to tell my your full medical history and home address? And proof that you're not making shit up? Because then we can talk about the terms of me telling you anything about myself.

To the reasonable people: I greatly appreciate how unhatable you are.

To everyone in general: I, too, am reasonable when not being actively attacked. Try talking to me now. Actually, don't I'm glad for the silence. Also, don't call me a faggot, we're not buddies, you don't get slur rights.

I in no way see how what happened between me and 3000s on the eel post is YOUR business. Most of you are just miserable drama chasers, and I think that's way sadder than curating your internet experience to your best efforts. Go smash some plates or jerk off or something, jesus christ. "Ohhh but I'm traumatized/in an abusive situation/whatever I can't do thattt" Oh my god that's the funniest response anyone could ever give to this. Ohhh god. That's so funny. Ah well, I can only dream, since reblogs are going off again as soon as I hit reblog on this. If your response is something like that do actually send it though it's sooo funny.

Have a reasonably alright day. I know that's what I'm doing, at least.

Don't send fundraisers or whatever to me.

[user98347501938475]

what a fun weekend i am currently having. friday morning woke up to no cuddles and steve on his phone he couldnt even look up to say good morning. then i made the mistake of kicking his laundry basket out of my way in the hallway twice so that means i deserve to get some nasty text messages at 6am. great way to start my day having to apologize, again, with no apology to me for anything, for "already ruining his day" and his reply, "you ruin most of em."

this text thread caused me to go into another spiral of depression, suicidal ideation, that i called my mom later that night and ask her to take me to the hospital because i wanted to hurt myself or go get blackout drunk. 22 days sober today btw woohoo!

so after being given the silent treatment all day, i am sitting crying in the office and steve took himself out to sushi, arcade, and movie date. not a care in the world that i said i was feeling suicidal and wanted to kill myself. but my mistake i made the comment you win and all i get in response is doesnt feel like winning. jesus fucking christ your wife is telling you she wants to end her life you dont give a fuck. honestly that was it for me. i dont think any amount of counseling will save this shit show.

for context when steve threatened to take his life early on in our relationship, i was threatening to call the police i was freaking out banging on his door and took all the fucking shoelaces out of his shoes because he said he had just tried to hang himself in his closet. then i stayed with him to make sure he wasnt going to do anything. and this same man doesnt even ask or care where i will be when i tell him ill be gone for three days, a 72 hour hold possibly.

so my mom and the dr said i would be okay to go home and be under supervision for the night LMAO still gonna wanna die tomorrow but okay cool. literally unless you have active cuts or say im going to go home and kill myself they wont give you any help. and just a thought. people who want to die, me specifically, is embarassed that i am such a failure at life that youre going to make me admit to you that i dont want to be here out loud and then be told youre okay go home. i just dont understand how there is no mental help for anyone living in this shithole society.

my future will be divorced and living in a little shitty apartment by myself and never leave and never make any new friendships or relationships because i cannot make friends and date. i have way too much fucking trauma. i mean my husband doesnt care if i die and my only friend, a gay man, but man none the less, cant even drive home to be with me because hes at his moms house getting drunk,(( his mom who wouldnt move her fat ass to bail him out)) .has been using me as a gooddamn vent stress doll because he was going to be arrested and i told him he would be arrested he didnt listen to me or take any of my advice. this friend needs a whole post of his own. but anyway, guess who was taking care of his loud annoying untrained chiuaua until fucking midnight and driving to lake elsinore to get your truck and then go to the bail bonds place, all of which was extremely stressing and then he gets out keeps me up until 2 am to tell me all about how horrible it was, congratulations welcome to the club of being arrested, maybe just maybe you should have listened to your "friend" when she told you how horrible it would be. but youre a fucking moron and thought the cops woould be NICE to you wtaf.

i dont even have the energy or like xmas spirit to put up my tree. i sure as fuck dont want to celebrate the holiday with steve. he cant even understand that i wanted to visit his family just not during the holiday hysteria. so what does steve do? he buys us $2000 worth of plane tickets to leave DEC 23 and return the 27. UHM WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. i guess you heard me but just dont fucking care what i want ever. or his concern for my arthritus and nausea he doesnt fucking care. HIS family is more important than his wife, obviously how could i be so stupid. i will never be anyone prioirty i have to make myself the priority. and he was shady as fuck acting like i thought we were on the same page...... yeah maybe buit we're reading two spearate fucking books dude. idfk how you could think my wife said she doesnt want to travel during the holidays means leave 2 fucking days before christmas.

so now hes going by himself and leaving the day after christmas at noon and then returning NEW YEARS EVE at ELEVEN FUCKING THIRTY AT NIGHT. boy better get a uber home. dont even fucking ask me to drive to LAX or JWA or wherever the fuck you land because you havent even told me which airline you booked, he probably doesnt even know. the way he buys plane tickewts its just whats cheapest on the day i wanna go idgaf about how horrible the time or airline is. but yeah glad that our first new years as a couple, married as well, that we could have had a new years kiss. but you planned to land on new years eve. he just doesnt think or care about anything i care or think about. we are so fucking wrong for each other.

im so glad i can write here since i only get therapy once a week and steve said he doesnt want to hear me "trauma dumping" or if hes already heard the story he doesnt want to hear it again. thank goodness for the void of internet.

[vendettaparker]

What a Dumbass [P.P]

Summary: Peter’s mistake leads to you being injured. 

Pairing: Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Swearing, like a substantial amount, suggestive content kinda, gun shot wound, and flustered!Peter 

a/n: I really liked writing this. I couldn’t stop laughing at some of the dialogue. and the mistake peter made to cause the whole set-up of the story is so funny to me. like i can legit see him making this mistake. also, i’m gonna make a permanent tag list, so please send me an ask or message me if you want to be on it! <3

        ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

     Peter Benjamin Parker is a fucking dumbass. All the time mostly. Most of the time his dumbassery leads to a lot of annoyed avengers, a lot of clean up, and a lot of spilled secrets. Hence why like three people who definitely shouldn’t know he is Spider-man do. But every once in while his idiocy can lead to an unexpected happily ever after, at least until he fucks something up again. 

     This particular fuck up has yet to be determined as a happy accident or your new 13th reason. It all started when that spider bitch decided it’d be a good idea to watch some explicit content on his laptop. Now, this wasn’t particularly an unknown activity for him to partake in, since we all know about his little impromptu purchase in Germany, but unbeknownst to this dork, his aunt was in the next room over working on a tear in his suit. And to make matters worse, he accidentally just so happened to purchase a subscription using said aunt’s credit card that was pre-setup in his laptop. 

     Now May is a very understanding woman. Very sex-positive, very loving, and inclusive; the whole shebang really. So when she happened to catch this idiot doing what he most certainly shouldn’t have been doing, she wasn’t mad, just thoroughly disturbed. Then she got the notification about the purchase. That was a bit more taboo in her eyes. So Peter was grounded from patrolling for a week and his laptop privileges were revoked for two weeks. That was fucking merciful compared to what this whole fuck up put you through. 

     At the school that following Monday, Peter spent the whole first, second, fourth, and lunch period trying to convince you to take over patrol for a week. Sure, you could definitely handle it, not to pat yourself on the back or anything, but you were significantly stronger than Peter, so it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. But you just really didn’t want to. Peter had his ‘Peter Tingle’ to help him find danger, while you’d actually have to look. It just seemed harder for you to do than it would be for him. 

     “Why are you even grounded?” You sighed after Peter's 3rd time bringing up the possibility of you patrolling for him at lunch. 

     “He got caught watching and buying p—” Ned started laughing.

     “Ned! Shut up!” Peter yelled, slapping his hand over his friend's mouth. 

     “How has your identity not been leaked yet, Jesus Christ.” You mumbled, giggling. You flipped through your chemistry textbook, writing notes to prepare for Friday’s quiz. 

     “Yeah, and how come you didn’t know May was home?” Ned pushed Peter’s hand away. “Where was your ‘Peter Tingle’ then?” 

     “She’s not a threat, dude. But shit, I really wish my tingle detected her.” Peter groaned, a deep blush covering his features. “Please (Y/N). I really, really don’t wanna leave Queens without any protection for a week. I’ll try to convince May to let me go out on the weekend, so really it’s only five days.” 

     “I guess I could help you out, but you owe me. I should really spend this time studying for my chemistry test. Iron bitch is gonna have my head on a spike if I fail another chem test.” You said, highlighting more notes. 

     “Okay! Delmar’s for a week, anytime, anywhere.” Peter said putting his hand out for you to shake. 

     “Make it a month, I know my worth.” 

     Peter hesitated, but eventually gave in, “Fine, but you better do a good job.” 

        ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

     So now you were stuck patrolling from 8:30 to 11:00 every night. It wasn't bad per se, and nothing too eventful happened. You stopped a small convenience store robbery, gave a few kids some tips at the skatepark, ran some errands for an old lady, and saved a cat from a tree. Thursday night was the real kicker though. Your night had barely started and you accidentally got in the middle of a drug deal between some smaller mob and a real messed-up junkie. This should’ve been an easy takedown, only six people in total that needed to be taken out, but like was mentioned before, you don’t have Peter’s goddamn, stupid fucking tingle. So after taking all six of the perps out you started to walk away after alerting the police. Unfortunately, one of those assclowns had come to, and grabbed the gun a few feet away from him and shot it towards you. The bullet went through your thigh and out the other side. Screaming in shock and pain, you used your own throwing knives and knocked the gun out of the mobster’s hand, then you proceeded to knock him out again with a few good punches to his noggin, maybe a few more, just for good measure. But this wound would need to be cleaned and stitched up. And if you went back to the Tower, Steve and Tony would give you an earful about “watching your surroundings” and “being more careful��. So in a moment of pure adrenaline and desperation, you texted Peter. 

You: are you home

Spider-Dork: Yeah, why?

You: i’ll be there in 5 

Spider-Dork: What? Why? Is everything ok?

Spider-Dork: Hello??? (Y/N)????

(Y/N) declined (3) calls 

Spider-Dork: Answer my calls idiot. 

     Peter’s texting and constant calling was cut short from a crash in his room. 

     “(Y/N)? Is that you?” Peter called from the couch in the living room. 

     “Yeah, can I borrow a t-shirt?” You called, fumbling around accidentally knocking over another lamp. “Oops, sorry!”

     “Uh, yeah sure. In the closet!” Peter called back pausing his show, prepared to make his way over to you. 

     “And some sweats?” You called back, blood dripping all over Peter’s hardwood floor. 

     Peter got up to make his way to his room. “Yeah, second drawer on the left side.” He said as he made his way to his bedroom. Knowing you were in there, most likely changing, he knocked. “You decent?” 

     “Nope, not really. I need a pair of your boxers too, though.” You called through the door, now seeing that the blood splattered on your underwear as well. “Also, bring the first aid kit when you come in.” 

     ‘What? Why?” Peter said in a more stressed tone, pushing his way into the room, completely ignoring the fact that you were very much not decent. “Holy shit.” He said seeing you out of your suit, in your bra and underwear, blood dripping down your right leg, pooling onto the floor. Your hand, red and bloody, pressed onto what he only assumed was the wound and blood seeping through your fingers. 

     “Bring a mop too.” 

     Peter ran out of the room to grab the first aid kit, plus some extra bandages and a cleaning solution. When he came back in he found you in the same state, standing in the middle of the room, eyebrows furrowed in pain, clutching your right thigh. 

     “What the hell happened?” He gasped, motioning for you to sit on his bed. You hesitated, not wanting to mess up his sheets. He seemed to notice your thought process quickly adding, “I have to wash my sheets anyway.” 

     “Gross.” You mumbled, scrunching up your face in disgust and finally settling down on his bed. 

     “Move your hand and tell me what happened,” Peter said kneeling on the floor next to the bed, positioned right at your hips. You removed your hand, bloody instantly seeping onto the bed. Peter winced looking at the hole in your leg, quickly grabbing the peroxide and dumping heaps of it onto your leg, much to your distaste. 

     “I got shot.” You stated as he cleaned the blood around the hole with alcohol pads.

     “Well, no shit. I mean by who and how?” 

     “Mobster. Sneaky bitch got me while I was walking away.” You winced as Peter inspected the wound further. 

     “I need to stitch this up. Did it go all the way through?” He said lifting your leg to look underneath for an exit wound. 

     “Yeah.” Peter found the exit wound and held your leg up with one hand, pouring peroxide on the back of your thigh with the other. 

     “You have to be more careful, (Y/N)! This looks really nasty.” Peter scolded, setting your leg back down and prepping the needle and sutures. “What if this was in your chest? Or—or if you didn’t get here in time? You could’ve bled out!” 

     “Well sorry that I don’t have your stupid tingle to help me out when I’m being fucking shot at!” You yelped, gripping the bedsheets. 

     “You don’t need spidey sense, you need fucking common sense,” Peter mumbled, stitching his first suture.

     “What the fuck did you just say?” You looked at him incredulously. 

     “I— uh, nothing.” Peter huffed, focusing back on stitching you up.

     “This is your all your fault, to begin with!” You accused, shifting uncomfortably, due to the needle constantly being stuck into your leg. “You’re the one that begged me to go on patrol for you! You’re the dumb bitch that got caught watc—” 

     “Ok! Shut up! For God’s sake, you’re never gonna let me live that down.” Peter groaned, finishing up the last stitch. “Flip over.” He commanded, pushing at the side of your waist to help with the movement. 

     “Well, it was fucking dumb. Don’t you check to make sure nobody’s home? God, we all know you’re a vocal bitch too.” You said, fully situated on your stomach. 

     “What the fuck is that suppose to mean!?” He gasped, prepping another needle. 

     “You’re a sensitive boy.” You shrugged, wincing when Peter started his next stitch. 

     “I-I am not sensitive! I’m emotionally and physically staunch!” He defended, going in for another stitch. 

     You just raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Sure, whatever you say, babe.” You winked at him, blowing an exaggerated kiss. 

     “You're a jerk,” Peter mumbled, finishing up his stitching job. “A jerk with a fucked up leg.” 

     You hummed, quite amused. Peter got up and started to collect his medical supplies. He shuffled out of the room to put everything away. When he returned you were trying to get up and walk, wincing at every slight movement. 

     “Here, let me just—” Peter lifted you up, bridal style. A small yelp coming from you when a sharp pain shot through your leg. “Sorry.”

     “It’s fine. Can you help me get dressed?” You said as he walked you over to his desk and set you down in his desk chair. 

     “Sure.” Peter blushed, painfully aware of your lack of clothes. He picked out some clothes from his closet and drawers. He helped you into them, wallowing in the uncomfortable silence, taking in each whimper and wince from you whenever he brushed against your thigh. 

     “Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He sighed after you were all dressed. “This is my fault.” 

     You looked at his distraught face, feeling bad for initially blaming him for the events of tonight. “No, Pete. It’s fine. I should’ve made sure all of the guys were knocked out.” You put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

     “No, I should’ve been more careful when I was watching that stuff. I have my spidey sense, I would’ve been able to avoid getting shot. It’s not your fault that you didn’t get bit by a radioactive spider.”

     “Pete, really, I’ll be better by next week anyway. It’s fine.” 

     Peter shook his head, sighing. “I just feel so bad, I shouldn’t have forced patrolling on you.” You hugged him and rubbed his back soothingly. “It’s my fault you got hurt.” 

     “Peter stop. It’s just an unfortunate accident.” You mumbled, hugging him closer. “It could’ve happened to anyone.”

     “But it didn’t happen to just anyone (Y/N), it happened to you. And I caused it. I-I don't know what I’d do if something ever happened to you. What if it was worse?”

     You sighed, pulling away from Peter and cupping his face, seeing the regret and shame pooling in his eyes. Without much thought, you pulled him closer, slowly connecting your lips in a sweet kiss. Truly getting lost in the feeling of his lips against yours, the feeling of perfection. 

     Peter’s eyes widened in shock for a moment, before he was kissing you back, reveling in the feeling he’s been dreaming about for months. You finally pulled away to catch your breath. Peter flushed at your actions, unable to stop the wide smile crossing his features. 

     “Sorry,” You mumbled sheepishly, “just needed to shut you up for a second.”

     “Maybe I should talk more, just to see what happens,” Peter smirked, pulling you in for another shorter, but just as sweet, kiss. 

     You hummed against his lips. “I really like you. Even when you're a dumbass.” You sighed against his lips.

     “The feeling is mutual.” 

     “Rude. I’m not a dumbass.” You gasped in faux offense. 

     “You’re the one with a bullet wound.” he deadpanned 

     “You’re the one who got caught watchin—”

     “(Y/N)!”

[mayhemmaybe]

anotherhumanpet

"Jesus fucking Christ..." Dennis let out the longest, weariest sigh of the evening. With how quickly and how frequently these two argued, it was almost as if he had never left home, but he found no comfort in the antics. Instead, he had a growing headache that was actively threatening to become a migraine with every passing second. Maybe he should feign one, just to get some peace, quiet, and privacy... At least Draluc and Ronaldo could move on from their petty arguments rather quickly and by themselves, which saved Dennis some added stress - but not much. The underlying tension in the air still felt somewhat thick to him, keeping him quiet while Ronaldo made his Great Introduction, and Draluc threw a few more barbed words at him for it. "...Thanks." While the book may have been technically illegible to him, Dennis still accepted it out of politeness and some low level curiosity. After all, he had all the time in the world with his immortality, so there wasn't much excuse for him to not learn Japanese and eventually read the book. And, in all honesty too, he was a bit curious and hopeful that the book could tell him all he needed to know about these guys. As loud and annoying as they were, they were still nice to him, and had taken him in with more grace and politeness than he could have hoped for. Dennis was hesitant to call them friends because he doubted they would call him the same, but... Quietly, he set the book down beside the jigsaw case. "So... if you're a superior vampire," he nodded to Draluc, then looked to Ronaldo, "and you're a hunter of inferior vampires, who apparently undress people, then what am I exactly? Cause all I've ever heard or known is just vampire."

The smug look on Ronaldo’s face when Dennis took his novel wasn’t aimed at Draluc, but it hit the vampire all the same. “You don’t have to patronize him.” As the words came out of his mouth, he finally got a look at Dennis. A real look, where he saw how exhausted their guest looked. Which is the only reason he didn’t further his dig at Ronaldo.

Draluc hummed at the question Dennis posed, but it was more for dramatic tension since he already knew his answer. “You, my young compatriot, are a superior vampire. Clearly you get on quite well with humans and aren’t driven by your hunger alone.”

“Don’t be fooled though. Plenty of the so-called superior ones make plenty of dumb decisions. So don’t feel too bad if you screw up down the line.”

Draluc nodded, “When you have all the time in the world, anything can happen.”

“Oh.” Ronaldo set his empty plate down then got up to rummage around his desk. The cryptic act got a curious noise out of Draluc whose eyes followed the hunter all the way there and back. On the return trip he held a chunk of paper out to Dennis, “Both our numbers, case you need anything. Aaaand in case you ever end up here again. Building address is on there too. You ever run into trouble with any of the hunters in the area show’em that.” Not that he thought Dennis would have any trouble. Sure there were overzealous hunters, but even those could usually identify a vampire that wasn’t a threat. This guy hardly had ‘danger’ written on him.

Not wanting to be upstaged in hospitality, Draluc held himself up tall while still sitting, “From the sounds of it, your ‘master’ ” there was plenty of salt added to that word, “and hunter uncle haven’t been able to teach you properly about being a vampire. Should you need any genuine assistance you’ll know where to look.”

"Nu nuu! Nu nuu nu nu."

"John says you're welcome to come over for games anytime you'd like."

"Oh... Right." Dennis deflated, unable argue against the threat of Jaden. The man may have been thousands of miles away from them at the moment, but his protective and familial wrath was still real and very present in the forefronts of Dennis' mind, so the eternal teen was left with no choice but to accept the situational sleepover.

Besides, he really was quite disarmed. With no phone and no wallet, he was practically a helpless baby in this day of age.

"I'll take whatever you have. Thanks." He pulled the pillow and blanket closer to himself, then made a small gesture at John to offer them as a booster seat - should the armadillo so desire. Either way, Dennis would get started on the jigsaw puzzle since the little guy was so insistent on playing with it. Not like he had much else to do anyway...

"Oh, Jaden's not my dad, he's my--"

Ahh, needless arguing between a vampire and a hunter minion. Now where has Dennis seen this before...?

"It's fine," he spoke up as loud as he could without actually yelling, trying to pull their attention back onto himself, "I'm not uncomfortable with staying over or anything like that. I just feel bad for being such a problem for you two, and thought it might be easier and a lil nicer if I holed up somewhere else. I can stay though, it's fine. Jaden's not my dad though. Like I said earlier, he's my uncle, and he's human, like you." Dennis nodded to Ronaldo.

"And I'm sorry for my outbursts earlier." Like Ronaldo was, Dennis started to stuff his food down his throat, using it more as an excuse to buy himself some time between words and as a shield to hide behind while he apologized more than a proper snack. "I didn't mean to yell at you guys or anything. I just... I'm sorry for being a dick."

[tigerdrop]

in lieu of doing more strenuous hand-based activities heres the Dogboy Gordon In Heat Megamix ive been talking about. i wrote this over the course of a couple months in an effort to feel okay about writing horny shit again and i only just realized there are nearly 6 thousand words here. and they only really fuck for like 10% of that

ta-dah

ive thought a lot about gordon being stuck back at gordonhouse after getting kicked out of barneyhouse. i think its ripe for a lot of pining. (and yes, he is pining over the guy hes actively banging. hes being a big mopey idiot over the fact that he doesnt get to have his fuckbuddy around 24/7.) absence makes the heart grow fonder or whatever and gordons already at a baseline of "wheres benrey. wheres benrey"......and now i am about to turn it up to 11

so lets say......gordons starting to feel weirdly under the weather. sweaty and irritable and tired. hes holing himself up in his room a lot, wrapping himself up in blankets to fight off a chill and a sniffliness that wont go away. and hes gettin awfully moody, too. real fuckin testy. starting shit with freemind for no reason and snapping at og gordon like hes a teenager. and......hes nesting, almost, or at least, gathering up a whole bunch of blankets and pillows and anything that smells vaguely like benrey. (hes not really aware hes doing this last thing.)

basically, long story short, feetman is fucked up. hes pathetic. hes being a huge bitch. at least og gordon feels vaguely sorry for him, and expresses this by way of observing him and trying to treat it. for science. its better than freemind, who just loudly complains about him being a huge bitch and reeking up the place. theres something weird coming from vr gordons corner of the house.....a musky, heady, hormonal kind of thing that makes freemind act simultaneously territorial and irritable and more lascivious than normal. and that also piques og gordons attention, because having both of them be wound up little freaks at the same time is enough to make even the most resilient person pull their hair out

now gordon primes got his suspicions as to whats going on, but hes not gonna tell vr gordon that he suspects hes going into heat. that would compromise the experiment, and all that. so poor gordons just going thru all this shit not knowing what in the fuck is wrong with him and getting more worked up and irritable about it by the day. hes convinced that hes just got the flu, or something......except, uh, haha, jesus christ he is horny all the FUCKING TIME

he doesnt get it! he feels like shit all the time, so why is he constantly fighting off boners and having weird wet dreams and thinking about-- well. his fucking boyfriend, he guesses. (are they boyfriends?? he doesnt know. he gets a weird, sharp pang when he thinks about them not being boyfriends, at this point, but its not like theyve ever talked about it!) gordons half-convinced that hes just losing his mind from being stuck inside all the time and he really just wants to see benrey again. its, like, all he thinks about. (see? hes losing it. theres the proof.)

the sucks thing for everybody else is that gordon is also Extremely Vocal about how shitty he feels and how much he wishes he didnt feel shitty so he could go see benrey and how much he cant stand benrey for not being able to read his mind and come over when he feels bad. eventually freemind gets so sick of his shit that he decides to cut out the middleman and get benrey involved directly. "come take care of your fucking dog before i call the aspca! animal neglect is a crime, asshole!"

(if pressed, freemind would adamantly reject the idea that hes being nice to gordon. but on some level, hes kinda sympathetic. the guys clearly miserable, and he just keeps asking for the same fucking thing. might as well humor him to shut him up.)

vr gordon is completely unaware of these machinations, however. hes just holed up in his room trying to work out what makes him feel better because, uhh, powerade isnt helping

jacking off doesnt do a whole lot for him anymore. like, it feels good, but its not very satisfying. gordon just ends up feeling more restless than anything afterward. and hes always stupid horny. more blankets. a box fan. less blankets. sleeping with one of benreys shirts pressed up to his face. grinding into his pillow when he wakes up hard from yet another weird dream. theyre all a little helpful, and he feels like hes working towards the right thing, somehow, but its never really enough to take the edge off

and then.....he tries......jerking off more. especially when he realizes that its bizarrely soothing to do so while he can smell benrey up close and personal on that stupid shirt of his. better still when he rolls onto his side.....and then his stomach.......rocking his hips into the mattress until he gets the idea to lift his hips a little. and......oh. cool. something kind of......clicks. in his head. as he raises his hips higher while he keeps his arms wrapped around a pillow and benreys shirt jammed against his nose. hes got that lil moment of realization that this is good, actually. this feels like a good move. and its making some of that discomfort melt away

and gordon thinks about.....how it felt. earlier. when they were with barmey. and benrey had him just like this, ass up, face down, and was spreading him apart and licking him open and making him submit and he groans so fucking hard that embarassment just rips through him like lightning. but his tail starting to wag a little faster.....electricity shooting through his belly......and he cant help but wonder. what if benrey had kept going? pulled back and-- maybe, replaced his tongue with his fingers, one at a time, curling them inside him and telling him how well hes behaving and-- and his dick throbs, hard, and gordon realizes he wants fingers inside of himself right fucking now, thank you, hes not fully certain how to accomplish it be he is going to fucking try

(sigh) so my guy figures out about the old fingers in the ass trick. and i need you to understand that i am fully convinced that this is one of those guys who has an uproarious reaction to getting fingers in his ass. mr repressed and uptight over here doesnt really get what the big deal is until he gets braver and pushes a little deeper and hes rock hard in an instant, goodbye, just like everybodys favorite creative writing exercise

and this is what he decides to do for a solid day or two without leaving his room, because, honestly, this is awesome. and the longer he spends jerking off the less time he spends stressing about the fact that his imaginations getting really vivid, here. sure, like, hes no stranger to weird dreams even before this, but this is the first time hes really letting his mind run wild and this dude is nonstop thinking about being bred and gordon still has no fucking idea that hes in heat. doesnt even occur to him

unfortunately this also does not solve his problems but at least it feels baller and it keeps him occupied. also, unfortunately, the increased rate of jerking off is causing a serious uptick in Dog Smells, the effect of which is turning freemind into a nightmare. its just not good vibes in this house. enter: benrey

now i need you to understand that when these two meet up again i want gordon to get Emotional. think about how genuinely excited he gets to see some of his pals in canon. the like......excitement and disbelief when benrey shows up outside his window throwing rocks at it before noclipping in. he forgets to even act pissed off at first. i think it would be super fucking cute for him to drop the game for a moment just out of shock, basically. his tails waggin, his ears are perked up, and hed probably tackle benrey to the ground if he wasnt also a sweaty, trembling mess whos been holed up in his room for days.

and benrey has No Fucking Idea what he has walked in on here. as far as benrey knows, freemind just demanded he get over there and take care of his dog.

(INTERLUDE: here is the part where i gin up a freemind POV of this exact scene. b/c i am out of my fucking mind

so. i had the thought of a freemind POV chapter where hes spying on gordon and benrey.....because. gordons in heat. ive talked about that scenario before too (literally so many FUCKING times okay i just need this dude to have the uncontrollable urge to be bred like a little bitch! and for benrey to take pity on him and make him feel better by nutting in him literally as many times as is physically possible!!!)

but i wanna manifest it in this specific way: from an outside perspective. voyeurism is great and also i have a one track mind and basically the only time i traffic in Other Guys in this fandom anymore is as a participant in gordon and benreys horse shit. Im not apologizing for this

lets say.....vr gordons behavior has been getting worse and worse for "unknown reasons" and freeman prime just sees it as a key observational opportunity for his research. while freeminds getting really irritated at how much its cutting into his normal way of life. for one thing, vr gordons room reeks, and he cant even escape it in his own room! and its turning him into a feisty, aggressive, and loud son of a bitch. but he cant even resolve it in his usual fashion at this point (baiting vr gordon into another competition/fuckfest) b/c gordons being a little sadsack holed up in his room and doesnt wanna play

but also.....he kinda just feels bad for the guy at a certain point. hes clearly really miserable and looks downright ill and all hes asking for is to see his boytoy again. (gordons convinced that hes dying, and feels the need to dramatically speak to benrey one last time before he croaks.) so freemind decides, in all his benevolence, to go over gordon primes head and drag the guy over there anyway. (with machinations, not his literal bare hands. what is he, a caveman?) he reasons that itll be a good opportunity to twist gordons arm into groveling at his feet later

and he spies on the two of them in gordons room.....why? idk. possibly something to do with investigating this relationship between a gordon and a barney that he had yet to fully analyze. tl;dr he gets trapped in their closet for a remix of that one barmey voyeurism chapter b/c why the fuck not

i just.....i dont know.....i think theres something really charming about a 3rd party not being able to fully make out what theyre saying or doing but piecing things together anyway.....like benreys weirdly soft tone of voice when hes talking to a super agitated gordon. as far as any of them know, hes not really like that. he either sounds bored or smug, but either way, its usually straight-up antagonistic

it would make freemind bristle to hear it b/c its almost a mocking tone, but.....it makes gordons shoulders drop and gets him to let go of some of that tension and thats probably fascinating to watch. literally soothing him like a stressed out dog, huh. smoothing back his hair and murmuring things in a low, even tone that freeminds enhanced hearing still isnt good enough to make out. (the guy mumbles, okay? he needs a fucking toastmasters meetup.)

it would equal parts horrify and fascinate freemind, in my onion. watching a version of himself fall that hard into the loyal pet role.....its pathetic! for all that gordon goes on about not being a slave to his instinct or whatever, he sure is doing a bad job of acting like it! its like watching himself, but worse.

and benreys having to soothe him like a startled animal b/c he doesnt even know whats wrong with himself, but theres something thick enough on the air that even benrey can smell it, and hes taking some stabs at the dark. especially with how charged some of the shit gordons saying is......"i cant fucking take it anymore", "you smell so good", "i dont know whats wrong with me, man, my dick hasnt gone down for days and im pretty sure i need a doctor-- no, a real one, not the other gor-- NOT a vet, JESUS"

and the whole time.....freeminds peeking from behind a closet door. watching them devolve from outright hostility into "gordon climbing into benreys lap and shoving one of benreys hands up his shirt and demanding that he fucking touch him already"

normally i dont think freemind would be averse to a little bit of voyeurism, here. if it was anybody else, hed probably at least engage in a little heavy petting. but this is getting weird, man. he cant shake the uncanny feeling that this is something too intimate for him to be watching. for one thing, gordons whimpering like a goddamn dog just from a little necking, and for two, hes never really been the kind of guy to watch people make out for 15 minutes before they get to the good stuff

its just kind of unsettling how much these two clearly really, really like each other at this point. its not like watching gordon prime give vr gordon a handjob as part of a "test". freemind expected more of a hatefuck kind of deal out of these two, what with how often gordons normally going on about how much he hates the guy, what a pain in the ass benrey is, how he just wishes benrey would stop jerking him around.....etc. freemind could shit himself right now. that lying bitch!

i imagine its also kind of painful, on a personal level, for him to watch this borderline-sappy shit. he cant even fathom being on the receiving end of that behavior, let alone from......well. theyve all got their barneys, right? and gordon primes basically doomed himself to incel status b/c he wont nut up and do anything about it. freemind just assumed they were all in the same boat: cursed to casual sex with their roommates/clones, forever, and unable to achieve any kind of intimacy b/c all 3 gordons are fucked up in the exact same way. since theyre all just diff flavors of the same fucking guy, right?

well, theres the evidence that hes wrong. and that vr gordons better than him, somehow. thats gotta suck, bro

anyway then he watches vr gordon get railed in the ass a bunch and jerks off anyway b/c its still hot. see ya)

“take care of your dog”. huh. hes got no clue what that means but, yknow, he does kinda miss his dog. hasnt seen gordon in awhile. and he immediately comments "wow. you look fucked up" in as blunt and unsympathetic a way as possible. but gordons so far gone that he cant even work up a good anger about it. he is pretty fucked up, man. and benrey sits on the bed and slaps his forehead with a palm to take his temperature (and that gets gordon to bitch at him, finally, that thats not how you do it, asshole) and judges that, uh, he is hot. in his expert opinion

and thats when gordon kinda grabs his sleeve and tugs it and starts tryin to say something. hes really bad at it, because he is having to perform the mortifying task of Owning Up To It, but eventually he manages to grind out that he needs benrey to touch him, please. just pet him. something. he feels really bad and he just needs benrey to scratch his fucking ears. this is the most gordon can cop to in one go, and it is such a sad struggle to watch, but benreys caught off guard by it and he feels weirdly bad for gordon upon hearing it so  hes just like "whoa, okay" when gordon tugs his hand to his head

gordon groans the moment his fingernails start scratching behind the ears and digging into his scalp. even just that much feels really fucking good. its comforting, for one thing, and its benrey, for another, and the physical touch feels so fucking good right now that goosebumps are crawling down his neck. gordon cant help but lean against benrey and bury his head in the crook of his shoulder. he wants to hide his face from scrutiny and he wants to get closer but he doesnt know how to say what his fucking problem is

and benreys weirdly quiet. just kinda mumbling and shushing him intermittently, awkward and not sure what to do b/c this is a level of intimacy he was not expecting but gordons sure is responding nicely to a second hand in his hair

so having both of benreys hands scratching at his scalp is really getting to gordon. hes scritchin behind the ears and gordons tails wagging at a mile a minute. the feelings making goosebumps race down his neck and arms. he starts kind of mumbling something into benreys shoulder, how hes been feeling so fucked up lately, and he squirms a little closer. hes not really aiming for anywhere in particular but every neuron thats firing in him right now is telling him to get closer. make contact. he missed the fucking guy, what can he say.

and one of benreys hands......slips down to gordons face. his jaw. a thumb pushing into that soft little divot between his jaw and neck, like hes trying to push up into gordons fucking teeth. its weird and bizarrely intrusive, but benreys hand is broad and warm and gordon leans into it anyway, groaning with relief. its not like its not doing anything for him. kind of the opposite, actually. then he palms at gordons neck, and gordon starts breathing harder. he can feel his heartbeat rabbit-fast, pushing against benreys skin (and theres no way benrey isnt feeling that, too).

benrey eyes are lidded and his breaths starting to get heavier, too. naturally, yknow, since gordons practically draped over him right now, melting all the more the longer benrey keeps petting him. oxytocin is crazy, man, especially when a guys in the full throes of some kind of chemical meltdown of the glands. gordons eyes are screwed shut, tail thumping furiously against the bed, and hes panting at benreys neck like hes a fucking dog.  he just doesnt know how to articulate what the fuck his problem is

benrey smells insanely good to him right now, and gordon just blurts that out. benrey gives him some shit for it, but when gordon only makes a weird noise in response and fists his hands in benreys hoodie, it makes him shut up real quick. hes squeezing out words about feeling like he needs something, but its clearly a fucking effort. its almost pitiful

so. gordons crawled right into benreys lap, too impatient after days and days of feeling like this (you know, being in heat, in so many words). hes been pounding off like crazy, that brand new collar of his strapped to his neck nearly every time b/c hes that desperate to feel… well. *benrey*. he cant fucking jerk off to thoughts of anything else - porn doesnt do it for him, and his fantasies slip right back to the same thing every single time. its frustrating! hes bisexual, for gods sake! its not like hes normally immune to the wiles of the Phat Ass White Girl, but lately he just keeps ending up on his hands and knees and whining benreys name into his pillow and he couldnt focus on a girls rack if he tried

point being. hes being awfully fucking demanding. (and also, hes wearing the collar *right fucking now)*. he shoves benreys hand up his shirt and shivers the moment he makes contact with gordons burning-hot flesh. and hes demanding that benrey touch him already, jesus, hes losing his mind! and benreys just crooning at him, “bossy, huh,” but hes scritching gordons ears and palming at his side and nosing at gordons neck and gordon starts to feel like hes melting into it. his protests at being talked down to are perfunctory at best

benrey licks a stripe up gordons neck and starts muttering his stupid horseshit right in gordons ear and it makes gordon clutch his shoulders so tight, claws digging into the meat of him. benreys kind of into it, though, and it just makes him laugh, low and harsh and right in gordons ear. that just makes gordons problem worse. he lets out quiet, nasal whines on every exhale, like a literal fucking dog.

he starts teasing, like, “haha, you’re *gagging* for it, bro,” but gordon doesnt respond with the defensiveness he expects. instead, its like opening a floodgate - he is, hes fucking *desperate*, okay, his dick hasnt gone down in days and he wants benrey so bad he cant see straight and he cant stop thinking about him and all of this comes tumbling out of him at once. gordons trying to press himself as close to benrey as he can physically get, legs straddling benreys lap and arms clutched tight around his back. and when benrey prods a little more, tells gordon to say what hes been thinkin about, gordon starts to pant, squeezing his eyes shut. but he cant bring himself to do anything more than choke and stutter on the words

hes half-hard in his underwear already (and, lets be be clear, he was only in boxer briefs and a tank top to begin with. hes sweating buckets and its the least amount of clothing he could get away with wearing around the house) and his tails thumping a mile a minute and hes so far gone, just from benrey talking down to him and kissing his neck and scratching his ears. but hes not budging yet, so benrey slides that hand on his ears over to his ponytail and *yanks*. tells him, “speak.” gordons dick twitches rapidly, and he lets out a sharp sound, and he finally says it: he needs benrey to *fuck* him, jesus

benrey lets out a harsh breath at that. “yeah? thats what puppy wants?” and the nickname should blister him, make him feel to embarrassed to continue, but gordons too desperate to care. he just starts spewing a litany of “god yes”s and “please”s. hes getting harder and harder, pressed up against benreys belly, and benrey can *feel* it. “good boy,” he mutters, and those claws dig harder, that panting gets louder and harsher

he slips a hand around to gordons back, rubbing slowly for a moment as if to soothe him, and then slides it under the back of gordons boxers. and lower still. starts rubbing at gordons hole. that gets a quiet “oh god” out of gordon.

gordon cant help himself - he rocks forward against benrey, just a little, rubbing his bulge against what he realizes is benreys *extremely* hard dick in his sweatpants. hes not the only one whos got it bad. but he *is* the only one whispering, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” as benrey pushes a little further, makes as if hes about to breach gordon dry. the poor guys so needy that he probably wouldnt even argue!

but benrey just stares at him, wide eyed and flushed, mouth hanging open a little. gordons so hot for this that it surprises the both of them.

anyway after some boring position finagling benrey coaxes gordon onto his hands and knees, running a broad hand down gordons shaking back. and he pulls back gordons tail, exposing him. its so fucking humiliating - gordons got his face buried in a pillow, and his ass in the air, and hes never felt so *vulnerable* before. he wants to argue, he wants to lift his head and look back to make sure that everythings, like, okay back there - benreys staring at his entire asshole, okay, and he wasnt exactly anticipating benrey making a house call to fuck him in the ass - but every time he lifts his head, or starts to say something neurotic about it, benrey chides him about it. clicks his tongue. tells him, “hey. dogs dont talk” or “i said *bow*, bro”.

for all his insisting that hes a real guy, that hes not just a dog, gordons feeling less and less like a human and more like something in thrall to his instincts. the condescension rankles like it always does, but doing what benrey tells him to feels good. feels natural. presenting himself like this feels like what hes *supposed* to do. it doesnt stop him from running his mouth entirely, but it helps to mitigate some of the embarrassment.

and then… benrey *licks*. gordon tenses and gasps. he doesnt know how benrey can stand it, its gotta be, like, unhygienic! but that didnt scare him off the last time they tried this, and its not like gordon hasnt thought about it since. hes thought about it a lot, actually. but hes been too neurotic to ask for it. benreys not stupid, though. hes a good dog owner (at least, so he thinks) and hes gonna take care of his dog. so he licks again, and again, pressing a little harder against gordons hole on each pass with the broad side of his tongue until he dares to breach it with the tip.

gordons rock hard again in an instant. his dick hangs between his legs and drips onto the sheets. he digs his fingers into the pillow now, tearing holes in its surface with those sharp nails of his, and he makes embarrassingly high noises that he muffles into into the pillow, too. hes tense, hes so fucking tense, he should be clamping down and making benreys task really fucking hard, but theres bright pink sweet voice dripping from his hole and benreys rubbing the side of his thigh in an effort to soothe him and both of these things work in tandem to get him to relax. and benrey works his tongue in further, further than a human ought to.

the tip was one thing, but it gets wider as benrey pushes it in, and its just as good as it was before - better, even, because now its just the two of them, just a master and his dog, and benreys the only one he wants to see him like this. bent over and whimpering. he cant— he cant stomach the thought of anybody else doing this to him. hell, there was a point once where the idea of stomaching *benrey* doing this to him would have made him laugh. but here he is. benreys fucking him open with his tongue and pressing against something thats making him see stars and gordon just wants *more*. he says it so sweet, too, voice growing hoarse and raw as he begs benrey to just fucking do it already, he doesnt wanna come like this!

gordon gets so worked up and emotional about it that benrey takes the time to scratch behind his ears again, shushing him and telling him to chill. benreys got him. hes been a good dog, and good dogs get treats. hearing the words “good dog” makes gordons entire body flush. thats all he wants, really. he wants to be a good dog. he wants to be *told*. he blurts out, “oh my god— say it again,” and benreys like, “huh? say what? youre gonna have to be more specific,” clicking the last syllable. it makes all the hairs on gordons head rise and prickle with shame. the best he can do is mumble it into his pillow.

benrey hears it, though, and tugs at gordons collar from behind, just enough to raise his head. “whassat? you want me to call you a good boy?” gordon cant bring himself to answer that directly, but his stupid body betrays him by making him whine. jesus christ, yes, thats all he WANTS! he needs benrey to be good and nice to him for once in his fucking life and give him what he wants instead of taking, taking, taking! but benrey just tells him that hes gonna have to earn it. gonna have to be *real* good for him. gordon could fucking snarl at that, but benreys pulling back to rub his dick between gordons cheeks and against his hole and that shuts him up pretty fast because hes *so close* to getting what he wants and hes not about to fuck it up now by running his big dumb mouth

and then… he starts to push in. that sweet voice has loosened gordon up enough to take even benrey, who, uh, is definitely the bigger of the two, in that regard. he goes slow, uncharacteristically so, and gordons chest heaves with the force of how hard hes breathing. a quiet string of “oh god”s spills out of him as he tries to crane his neck back to watch. the head breaches him with a strange popping sensation, and benrey groans, loud, as the rest of him slides in with little resistance in comparison. “good,” he pants in turn, “youre takin it so good,” and—

and gordon comes, in weak, aborted spurts. it snuck up on him. he clenches so fucking tightly that it winds benrey a little. he breathes out, “whoa. did you—” but gordon just begs him to shut up, keep going, hes not— hes not done yet, its always like this, its not *enough*. his dick barely even flags afterward, it just hangs there, achingly hard and dripping with cum. benrey cant even find it in himself to make fun of him. he wants it so fucking bad, doesnt he? and he feels so good, so fucking tight and slick around benrey that the only thought running through his head is “gotta take care of my dog gotta fuck my best friend gotta nut in him and make him howl”. so he pushes himself alllll the way in until theyre pressed together, skin to skin.

then he starts to move. slow, careful thrusts, more for benreys benefit than gordons. if hes not careful, hes gonna blow his load, right then and there, and hes trying to make it good for gordon, too, okay? unlike *some* of them, hes not gonna bust in two minutes and then spend the next half hour crying and trauma-dumping to the guy hes still got his dick inside of.

once he thinks hes got a grip, though, benrey starts fucking him in earnest, and that changes gordons vocalizations from weak little whimpers into something louder. less restrained. hes given up any pretense of being quiet so that his other selves dont hear that hes snuck his boytoy into his room. just loud, wordless moans on each thrust, initially muffled into the pillow but soon spilling into the wider room when he turns his head to catch his breath. the only words hes managing are “oh god” and “please” and “benrey, benrey, *benrey*”, and benrey just responds to him like, “yeah? thats good? fuuuck, bro, so good for me,” all short of breath and barely able to speak himself

he wants to see gordons face. he *needs* to see gordons face. needs to see what hes doing to him, needs to see that cute fuckin blush of his. so he tugs on gordons collar again, bringing him to his hands and knees properly instead of that bowing position. and then further still - pulls him back so that benreys on his knees, and gordons on his knees in turn, on his lap, cock still buried inside of him and fucking him in short, hurried thrusts. “paws up,” benrey tells him, and gordon does it. instantly. no resistance. just folds them at his chest like a real dog would.

“whos a good boy?” benrey croons, right in his ear again. gordon gasps, “i-i am!”

“yeah? youre a good boy?” nod, wail. “whose— whose good boy are you?”

and gordon chokes on his response. he cant say it, he *cant*, he doesnt want to be benreys but he does, he *does*. he doesnt want to be benreys because its not fucking fair! he cares so fucking much! so much more than benrey does, it feels like, obsessing over the guy like hes wrapped thorny vines all around gordons heart and he cant so much as shift in his seat without feeling the tug and the ache and thinking of benrey again. and benrey doesnt care, he never fucking cares, except—

except he showed up at gordons house, in his room. without even being asked. like he knew something was wrong. and he— hes always talking to gordon, shooting him stupid texts just to make him laugh. scheduling *date nights* for them. date nights where, yeah, maybe they couldnt see each other in person, and maybe they always end in some kind of depraved sexual act, but its not like gordons not into it. hes frighteningly into it, actually. and hes *so* into hearing benreys voice, low and crooning, right in his ear, and seeing him lean on an elbow and smile at him afterward. its— its practically genuine. and benreys always making excuses to talk with him, do things with him, watch stupid fucking movies that only gordon cares about and stream with him on twitch to help boost his subscriber count and—

and—

oh god. maybe he *does* care. that might be more terrifying than the alternative.

then benrey yanks the collar again. presses the whole of gordons back against his front in one hot, unbroken line. and asks, “i said, whose good boy are you, bro? *speak.*”

“benrey,” he blurts out, a ragged moan, “d-dont make me sa-AY it, oh god—”

“no?” benrey stills suddenly. his hands keep gordon stuck in place, unable to move or bounce or feel benrey shift inside of him. “thats, uh… thats too bad, friend. this trains for good boys only. good dogs go to heaven 2. no bad dogs allowed. gonna have to, uhh, escort you off—”

“im not a bad dog!”

“i dunno, gordo. bein’ kind of, uh… disobedient.”

(sorry. thats all i got . byeeee)

[aithusarosekiller]

It’s James birthday today, please please can we get the James ranking? <33

Okay ranking James'

1) carpe noctem. My boy has issues. A lot of them, Why is he so angry all the time calm down babes

2) larded with sweet flowers. Ikik, it's bad if my own fic is towards the bottom but I promise I do love him. It's just that he hasn't really done much at all so...there isn't much to love. Maybe I'll love him more when I write the epilogue with his comforting Reggie for 5000 words idk we'll see

3) I love him, I really do, he is so sweet and <3 but the saviour complex makes me sad and sad makes me minus points because I don't like being said. Love him though

4) When you were mine. Man's a good dad, simp and great friend simultaneously, what's not to love? He does need to find better ways to deal with this sexual tension though, the boy will explode if he keeps thinking this shit. See a therapist babes, let some of this stress out, deal with shit in a way that isn't bottling it up and hoping Reg makes a move first so you can't blame yourself for whatever happens bc of the guilt and confusion you're also bottling up. He's a great dad though so.

5) The filth. I love him. He's the perfect mix of assertive and 'I will do anything you want without thinking bc you're pretty and I'm gay' so...perfect. He also has great taste in the men he fucks so. He is like,,,the man everyone wants but nobody gets. Bc he is too nice and most of those men died out loooong agoooo

6) Tell me pretty lies, at the high end yet again because jesus fucking christ kill me. He's really sweet and a fairly good partner and friend but he needs to talk to some professionals about this trauma bc it keeps leading to bad decisions and fucking up his life and relationships so even if he ates talking about it to his parents, the by needs a journal to write it in so one day he can show it to a therapist and get hep bc my baby ad been through a lot I want to hug him.

7) Oh look, Drugs and Surgical Scrubs steals top place yet again, Who is surprised? That man is the definition of golden retriever energy and I love it. He is bribed with sweets, his favourite film is the little mermaid and spends 5 minutes figuring out where to put his sticker for being a good patient for his tired, grumpy crush? I love that for him. He's actively making decisions that will help him in the long run despite the physical and emotional pain it will cause him, along with the strain it will cause on his longest standing friendships, what a king. He has gone through a lot of shit and will probably continue to but babe's trying his best and that's good enough for me.

[synchlora]

I heard apocalypse AU? 👀

YOPOOOOOOOOOOO YESYEZYEZTWSDAGAVZGX

Yes

PARTICULARLY for the bench trio and wilbur :]] this was literally all sparked bc I saw an au where ranboo dies and I got so viscerally upset over it that I went through. so much effort to make an au where he lives. christ

SO :D

(so so many warnings abt graphic medical shit, infection, necrosis, Pain, medical malpractice, just. bad things, please be Careful)

tommy and tubbo r childhood friends. they run into one another quite soon after separating from their families. tommy ran from his family after his parents killed his sister, tubbo ran when his family told him to save himself and he blames himself for not saving them.

RANBOO. shows up half fucking dead lmao. many bites, definitely infected to become a zombie, arm is. very necrotic. and what else do tommy and tubbo do when they see another kid their age slowly becoming zombified?? take him home ofc <3

they live in an old rv out in the woods and ooh its shit but its something. ranboo is like. doing a little better??? bc hes not Actively starving but he is also still Infected and struggling w his arm. so tommy and tubbo have got to figure something out w all this

they decide to raid a nearby abandoned hospital for supplies and after taking a lot of medical equipment and drugs they Do Not Understand, they run into wilbur wandering the halls. they r obviously v defensive but wilbur is very curious, especially abt why they are taking basically Useless medical equipment unless they know how to use it

after some talking and deliberation, they learn that wilbur is (or rather was) a med student who was working an internship at the hospital when the apocalypse happened. no clue what happened to his family, they don't live nearby and there's no way to contact them

after long discussion between the two of them, tommy and tubbo decide to risk bringing wilbur back to see if he can somehow help ranboo. yeah its risky as hell to bring a stranger back to their most vulnerable friend but they're desperate as shit and wil seems to at least have Training lmao

so wilbur helps getting the equipment set up and he takes one look at ranboo and is just like jesus christ ive got my work cut out for me. BUT they get shit set up and start shit <- very technical language /s

tommys good at the tech shit, wilbur has the medical knowledge, and tubbo has the nerves of steel. and oooh boy those will come in handy becauseeeee

they have to amputate ranboos arm

basic details (BIG BIG WARNING FOR GROSS MEDICAL SHIT, BE CAREFUL): wilbur instructed, tubbo performed, tommy monitored ranboo Very Closely (hes on so much fucking pain killers its unbelievable. no general anesthetic, they have access but itd be too risky. they do have localized anasthetics though). applied tourniquet to upper arm around bicep area. pinned ranboos arm so he can't move it too harshly and cause unwanted damage. tubbo cut carefully and didn't shake a bit, ensuring to leave a skin flap of healthy, live skin for sewing and wilbur cauterized the blood vessels and major nerves as they went. obviously, as there is no general anesthesia, ranboo is fucking Screaming and also unable to sit still. that's tommys job, to monitor vitals and also literally keep him from yanking so hard he messes tubbo up. tubbo cut through muscle quickly and had a bonesaw to cut through the bone. hardest part of the entire procedure was smoothing down the bone at the cut. ranboo ended up passing out from pain and despite himself, tubbo was relieved at the lack of screaming. tommy was worried as shit at ranboo passing out but he closely watched to ensure he was still breathing and Alive. tubbo finished up and, with more of wil's instruction, covered the wound with the sewed skin (he would have left it open to monitor, but it was too much of a risk with how high-stress it was for ranboo already) left some drainage tubes, put on heavy antibiotics, and dressed the wound with clean gauze. ranboo took several hours to wake up and awoke screaming once again

it is overall fucking Awful and incredibly traumatizing for all involved

ranboo is Very weak at this point, both from the amputation and the steadily worsening yknow. zombification and shit

so the trio looking after him are scrambling around to do something Anything to treat him and try and save the guy

surprisingly, the amputated arm is doing well??? it does not have its own separate infection and the skin is actively healing, albeit quite slowly, around the wound. they've got enough supplies from the hospital to last a while for clean dressings and medications. jesus fucking christ did I mention how many pain killers hes on????

doesn't mean it doesn't hurt but its like. not entirely hellishly unbearable. only agonizing most days

anyway, through all this time theyre monitoring infection signs closely and wilbur is helping adjust doses of a cocktail of antibiotics and antivirals and even antifungals, just fucking Everything man

and.. things start to change

the sickly green tinge to the skin around his lymph nodes starts turning a more natural pink, the darkened veins start to lighten to a more human shade, the glassy fog over his eyes slowly begins to clear

and holy fucking shit did they just cure an infected person?????

hes been sick since they met him and now he's finally starting to get.. better?

dont get me wrong, hes still struggling and in so much pain and my god the dependencies hes got on a Lot of painkillers oough man, BUT. he is alive

and its an ordeal but. he starts to recover. the infection subsides. his arm is fully able to heal now that his body can focus energy to do that. he starts to actually be able to be himself and by god it really made it all worth it

AND THEY ALL FOUR LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER NO FUCKINH DEATH FUCK THAT THEY GROW OLD TOGETHER ND HAVE A GOOD TIME :]]

[viostormcaller]

okay yall I have a WILD fucking story for you guys today

So, for background, I ordered two things recently: a new onesie to replace my old one, and a pair of wireless earbuds from skullcandy. The onesie came (VERY comfortable btw) but the earbuds never did -- I had already tried once to pay for it and it got declined because I fucked up with the billing address and the shipping address being the same when it shouldn't have been. My fault, but I rebought the product, got my money back from the first payment, and thought all would be well. The onesie was delivered by USPS, and I literally never have issues with them -- every time I order something and they're delivering it, I always receive it. The earbuds, however, were being delivered by UPS, and I was like "oh god here we go" because any company who ISN'T USPS tends to be really fucking incompetent for whatever reason and I can never get my packages delivered to me. I had made the false assumption that maybe it would be fine and there would be no issues.

I was, of course, wrong.

For further background, the people in my apartment building are theives. Every time I get something delivered here, it gets stolen. They once stole a $5 pack of screwdrivers from me, so I have no faith in delivering anything bigger or more expensive than that over here (and thanks to the heavy police activity this morning they MIGHT be selling drugs up there?? but thats a different story). So I have all packages delivered to my stepdad's mom's house instead because the neighbors there are really honest and they've actually helped me with my packages a few times. But I digress.

I get it sent over there and, of course, the package is nowhere to be seen. UPS says it was delivered and left "with the customer," but clearly that was a fucking lie because the customer (aka my stepsister or me) did NOT have the package. And you know it's impossible to contact an actual human person at UPS?? Their pathetic excuse of a customer support line doesn't even have any support options, nor any options to get in contact with a representative of any sort. They DON'T EVEN HAVE A FUCKING EMAIL. And I tried to file a claim against them for my missing package BUT IT WAS INELIGIBLE FOR SOME FUCKING REASON. I was so stressed out and upset.

Well, as it turned out, when my stepdad came home he told me that the package had been delivered to the wrong house -- the postman that delivered it was a new guy instead of the usual guy, and of course they fucked it up. But whatever, the neighbors who recieved my package handed it back to the delivery guy and said "this isn't mine" pretty much, so UPS has to redeliver it (and I still could really heavy get on UPS for straight-up lying to a customer, but I'm not about to start more trouble). So I'm over here with my at least satisfied self thinking "at least they're honest over there, that package is worth 70 bucks and this is my second time trying to get it delivered so I'm glad I'm still getting it"

The upstairs neighbors at my stepdad's mom's house, however, didn't think that was good enough.

So one of them goes over there (because the place is right up the street) and goes to confront them, asking why they didn't just walk up to deliver it to the right apartment themselves since, y'know, the address is right on the fucking package and that wouldn't be that hard to do. So the two of them start arguing. And the guy who lives at the wrong house my package got sent to starts saying "black lives matter" to start shit and the neighbor at my stepdad's mom's house starts getting upset. A few minutes more of this I guess and the guy from my stepdad's mom's house TAKES OUT A FUCKING KNIFE AND STABS THE GUY IN THE ARM. I guess he then drops the knife and my other stepsister's boyfriend goes over to pick up the knife and walks off with it, so when the cops came they can't really accuse anyone right away because they can't find a weapon. But whatever I guess they did get the guy and brought him in and he was released this morning or something.

But I'm over here like... one, that's MY package yall are fighting over, it's not like it's yours, and two, not even I would stab someone over my own fucking package, why would I want someone to stab someone else ON MY BEHALF????? Like I feel kinda bad because like... I didn't realize this would be a big thing. All I'm trying to do is get some wireless earbuds so I can sleep with music on and not break my over-ear headphones. Like jesus christ if I knew this would end is someone getting stabbed I wouldn't have bothered!

Anyway TDLR; I indirectly caused someone else to get stabbed over a package I ordered and am both in shock and also feel kinda bad about it.

[thefoxsden]

@theclownprnc || starter call

Smoke was rising from the cold steel of the pipes that ran their way through the weathered brick ; rust c r e e p i n g in on the eldest duct as it stuck out above the building.  When the vapors hit the sharp bite of the night air, it was met with a soft rain -- a rain that’d hadn’t quit for days.  The energy had been palpable in the city.  Slow... f o g g y... w o r r i e d.  People had been on edge for something that hadn’t happened quite yet.

I wasn’t sure what to expect.  This hadn’t been the first time it’d stormed like this.  Cloudless nights that somehow brought a piercing rain, leaving the city wondering who was up to what.  I wasn’t too concerned, however.  I had shit to do.  I had a fuckin’ business to run and if people were gonna lock themselves up out of fear then I had to make up for that fact.  I still had a goal I needed to reach.

Despite the Den’s early success, I needed to do so much more to truly earn Falcone’s respect.  I still needed to prepare for Gordon and his men ; I needed to finish our alcohol selections ; I also needed to hire more staff.  Both thankfully and unfortunately so, the down-poor had caused a lull in the crowd today.  This gave me time to sort out my work and prep my interview process, but it also meant a heavier workload later this month to get these fuckin’ numbers up.

The last thing I needed today was an i n t e r r u p t i o n.

Calloused fingers hastily traveled their way down the sleek plastic handle, wrapping tight around its center.  With a jutting pull, a chilly mist was released.  Those same fingers made their way into the cold, reaching, moving, and pulling out a frosted glass.  It was soon filled with a dark brown stout, foaming at the brim.  A transfer occurred, followed by grateful words.

As I shut the fridge door below me, I scanned the room.  Couldn’t have had more than 20 people, all seeming to make themselves regulars ( some ex-cons looking for a break ) .  My burnt eyes darting back to the bar in front of me, examining the papers I had left to fill out.  Stress began to wash over me.  My body leaning over the varnished wood.  A sigh escaped my lungs.

Just as I began sorting my s c a t t e r e d thoughts, the room went quiet.  Cocking my head to the left, I listened for any activity.  There was none.  Abruptly, my neck craned to see what was occurring just now.  As my eyes carried their way through the small pockets of groups, I found only faces of shock and worry.  My mind began to race.  What was it that was about to happen here ?

Before I could finish my thought, my ears caught it.  Hairs on the back of my neck stood up in fear worry.  The sound e c h o e d through the empty, quiet spaces.  A cane, its rounded metal end, plinking its way towards me ; heels, dense wood of a dress shoe, m e a n d e r e d their way into my thoughts.  Breathing one last full breath in, I lifted my head to see who had found their way.

“ JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, ” forced out from under my breath.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

sorry for the wait between posts - i’m not great at the time management thing lol. this one is kind of a continuation from the last one, but not really. anyway, enjoy! (also sorry for the weird formatting, i don’t know what happened!)

You know you’re an outsider and that the people of Hawkins apparently don’t take well to outsiders. Especially the female population of Hawkins. Sure, they were pleasant enough when they saw you out and about, but the whispers started up just as soon as they thought you might be out of earshot.

Normally it doesn’t bother you - you learned long ago not to care about other people’s perceptions. But today, with your pregnancy hormones raging, the whispers that followed you from Family Video to the library to the grocery store, were just getting to be too much.

“Fifteen years! Can you believe it?”

”Knocked-up. Thought he was smarter than that.”

”Sure knew how to trap him quickly.” You turn down a different aisle in the grocery store, your free hand resting protectively over the small curve of your stomach. It wasn’t even noticeable - not unless you wore a tight fitting top. But the loose Duran Duran tee-shirt tucked into jean shorts obscured the evidence of your new pregnancy. There was nothing you could do about the age difference between yourself and Hopper. And sure, you’d only been dating just shy of a year when you found out you were pregnant, but that wasn’t so unusual.

What the gossipy, bored housewives of Hawkins hated was the fact that you and Hopper weren’t married. Or maybe they really did just hate that you had “trapped” him when none of them could. You hate the fact that Jim had slept with most of them, not because he’d had an active sex life before you came into the picture - you’d slept with a handful of men before falling for Jim -, but because these women thought it gave them a claim, a stake in his personal life. You throw three boxes of Eggo waffles into your basket and head for the check-out. It’s time to get out of the public area of town and head home. You keep your head down as your groceries are rung up, not wanting to attract more attention. But the whispers continue - about your too short shorts, your lack of wedding ring, the absolutely inappropriate way you had kissed Hopper at the Memorial Day town picnic just a few weeks before. Biting the inside of your cheek, you offer the teenage cashier a tight smile and pay, quickly scrambling to your car with the groceries.

————

Hopper comes home, just before dinner, and finds you curled up on the couch. He frowns when he realizes that you’re staring blankly at the TV, ignoring the opening music of the 6 o’clock news.

“Sweetheart?” he leans over the back of the couch and rests a hand on the top of your head. “You okay?”

“Hm?” you blink a few times, rolling your neck to face Hopper. “Oh, hi, baby,” you say quietly, giving him a small, tight smile, “Fine, just a little tired.”

He squints at you, evaluating whether or not to probe a little more. Eventually he chooses to believe you. “Everything good with the baby?”

“Mhm,” your smile is more genuine now. “I can almost feel her flipping around in there.”

“Her?” he raises an eyebrow and comes around the side of the couch to sit with you. He opens his arms and you settle against his broad chest, draping one arm over his stomach.

His arms lock around your shoulders and you shake your head. “Just a feeling. I could be wrong,” you mumble into his shirt. He smells like cigarettes, even though he was supposed to have quit when you found out about the baby. He must be stressed.

You can sympathize.

“Another little girl would be nice,” he says quietly, only a little sadness in his tone. You squeeze his hand and he squeezes back.

You cuddle with him quietly for a few minutes, neither one of you really wanting to move. Suddenly, he asks, “Hey, shouldn’t El be home for dinner?”

“She’s hanging out at Joyce’s. They’ve got some crazy D & D campaign happening. Joyce is ordering them all a pizza,” you reply.

“Got the house to ourselves?” Hopper asks and you can hear the smile and suggestion in his voice.

Any other night and you would’ve already had his clothes on the floor, but the murmurs and gossiping behind your back has really burrowed its way into your brain. You shrug and try to get even closer to Hopper. “Not really feeling up to it, Hop,” you admit quietly.

His hand - warm and large - rests against the middle of your back and rubs slow circles. “Okay, we can just relax and enjoy a kid free night.”

You shrug and feel Hopper shift under you. He gently pulls away and looks down at your face, a concerned crease forming in between his eyebrows. 

“Okay, what’s the matter? You’ve been quiet all night and I sure as hell know that’s outta the ordinary for you.”

You hesitate and then admit flatly, “They’ve been talking about us.”

Hopper’s face sets into an angry scowl. “Thought I made it perfectly clear that you n’me aren’t a gossip topic for this town?”

“You can’t stop people from thinking and whispering to each other,” you mumble. “At least they’ve stopped saying shit to my face.”

“I’m the fuckin’ chief, and you’re my girl,” Hopper growls. “Think they’d show us some respect.”

You let out a joyless laugh, “It’s not like they’re making up lies about me, Jim. I’m 29 and knocked-up with my boyfriend’s baby. I’m a fucking stereotype. At least I’m out of my teens.”

Hopper goes silent and you hold your breath, blinking back tears. He can’t even deny it - everything that’s been said about you is entirely true. Well, except for that fact that you plotted and planned to trap him with a pregnancy. That was entirely Mother Nature’s doing. Damn antibiotics cancelling out birth control.

“It’s fine,” you say, waving a hand in the air and trying so hard to sound casual. “I’m happy with you and El and the baby. I don’t care if a bunch of gossipy women think I’m just an unmarried harlot.”

“What if you weren’t?” Hopper says slowly and it takes your brain a minute for his words to register.

“Weren’t what? A harlot?” you ask, leaning away from him a bit and tilting your head in confusion. “I didn’t think I was.”

“No, no,” Hopper shakes his head quickly, a strangely nervous look settling over his handsome features. “What if you weren’t unmarried?”

You sit up fully, leaning back on your knees to stare at him. “I’m sorry? What was that?”

Jim grins at you - the audacity of grinning when your heart is beating right out of your damn chest - and grabs your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “Said, what if you weren’t unmarried?”

“James Hopper,” you narrow your eyes at him, a slow, disbelieving smile threatening the corners of your mouth, “is that what passes for a proposal in your mind?”

He digs his free hand in the front pocket of his work pants and produces a small velvet box. Your jaw drops slightly. “Would a ring make it a better proposal?” he teases, using his thumb to flip open the lid. A small, sparkling diamond set on a thin gold band greets you.

“Oh!” you gasp, covering your mouth with your free hand. “Jim?” you look up at him, tears gathering in your eyes.

He grins even wider. “Didn’t really plan on doin’ it like this, but what the hell. Y/n, mine and El’s lives are so much better ‘cause you’re in them. Will you marry me?”

He’s not big on romantic words, but you can’t help but feel like Jim Hopper just composed a fucking sonnet on the spot. You nod vehemently, lunging forward to grasp his face in your hands and kiss him soundly.

“That a yes?” he mumbles against your lips when you break for air.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Jim Hopper!” you exclaim, “Of course it’s a yes!”

He slips the ring on your finger and you admire it, smiling softly to yourself.

“Looks good on ya,” he comments.

“I love it,” you reply. “I love you.”

“Yeah?” he asks, as if he still doubts your love and commitment. He casts his eyes down at the ring and hesitates. “Wanted to ask you months ago. Kept gettin’ nervous. Then I didn’t want you to think it was ‘cause of the baby.” Your smile falters a bit. “It’s not, right?”

Subconsciously, your right hand traces the curve of your stomach - the baby changed a lot, but you hoped it hadn’t been the reason for Hopper to do something he wouldn’t have done otherwise. Hopper’s gaze tracks the motion and he shakes his head.

“El and I picked the ring out around March, was gonna do it then and there, but the kid convinced me it should be special. She and Max had ideas,” he laughs, remembering the onslaught of romantic actions he was supposed to have taken.

“I don’t need special, Jim,” you say quietly, resting your hand on his knee. “This was perfect.”

Hopper still looks a little sheepish, a little embarrassed, but there’s a happy twitch to his moustache and he pulls you forward into a hug. Kissing the top of your head, he mutters, “Anybody in this damn town thinks they’re gonna say shit about my wife, fuck they’ve got another thing comin’.”

You giggle - his wife. You’re going to be Jim Hopper’s wife and officially El’s stepmother. God, what a wild turn this day had taken.

tag list: @0hour9am @joemhazzello @technicallykawaiisoul @loonimoonylooni @fangirlinginspace@pixiehex1985 @harleyh1989 @fingersock1 @bitch4bagels @pulplorrd @wearethebrokenones@crazyonesarethebest @thatisthemagic @thatprettymvthafvcka @daniphee @hufflepuff25@pwoperfangirl @laneygthememequeen @ayatimascd @kakyoin-cherryboy @justalittlebum@anxietysasshole @l0ve-0f-my-life @billyrussosbutt @onceuponathreetwoone @hartonsleeve-blog @ithisismyusernamebitch @daydreamerzk @coolgh0st @w0nder-marie @cainanelea @leia-saveourskins @happy-hopper @that-aesthetic-wannabe @winterxblogger @girlwiththenegantattoo@gellus-bitches @anmactireaonair @yipthegoddess @thesimsnextdoor @mybulletproofheart7 @aisling1985 @uglyshirts  

[jereviendrai]

||| ooc; does every character on this blog have bpd symptoms? is this problematic, considering they’re all villains or would-be villains? is there a way to give a villain a mental health disorder without stigmatizing the disorder? well--

OH AND BIG TRIGGER WARNING FOR A WIDE RANGE OF MENTAL HEALTH TOPICS SUCH AS: eating disorders, mental illness, stigmatization of mental illness, self harm, suicidal tendencies, and a fuckload more. I don’t go into detail. There are just mentions. I’m not gonna say a bunch of graphic shit, I promise! If I went into graphic detail, this would turn into a PhD thesis proposal, and that’d be WAY too long to be worth writing. Also I have BPD, but I’m not going to pretend that I’m an expert on the subject. I’m not. My word is not law, but it’d be nice if my word was taken into consideration.

this post got so fucking long and disorganized jesus christ

The answers are: yes, not inherently, and absolutely.

I want to get into the mental health of all three characters in a second, but I think it’s important to talk a little about the other two points first. That said, though -- yes, they’re all borderline. All three of them! And they all experience it differently! I will come back to that. Anyway--

I feel like it’s important to talk about villains, mental illness and stigma. There’s a really common (and insanely lazy) tendency for writers to explain a villain’s villainy by simply saying, “oh, well they’re a psychopath,” or, “they’re just crazy.” This is not only lazy and offensive, but it contributes to an unfair stigma against the mentally ill.

Mental illness might, say, compel someone to steal a chocolate bar or snap at someone out of anger. It might make a person’s emotions volatile. It might make someone unreasonable. They might suffer delusions of abandonment, of some plot against them, of people’s secret intent to humiliate them, etc. They might suffer and handle their suffering poorly. They may cause harm. But that doesn’t make them... evil. It makes them complex. And how they react to and handle their negative actions says more about them than any diagnosis could.

When you have a villain with a mental illness, you need to examine how the illness is hurting them. Write about how it hinders their progress. Write about how isolating it can be for them. Write about the impact and struggle. Not how the illness makes them so evil or so irredeemably awful. The illness should be what humanizes them and helps to make them relatable. No matter how untouchable and powerful your villain is, they have some personal struggle that is independent of their villainy. When done correctly, it can go a long way in fleshing out your villain and adding interesting inner conflict!

I know, I know. You might be asking, “yeah, but don’t people with mental health issues sometimes cause harm directly related to their symptoms?” To which I say: yeah, duh, of course. Just like a depressed person might say something mean when they’re having a bad day. Just like someone with ADHD might make someone feel like they aren’t being listened to. Just like someone who has social anxiety might make a friend feel unloved. Just like mentally healthy people also occasionally cause harm.

I’m not saying mental health issues don’t cause problems and maladaptive behaviors. I’m just saying it doesn’t... make someone inherently bad -- real or fictional. And I need people to internalize that.

ANYWAY ON TO THE CHARACTERS AND THEIR BPD

(i know, you’re probably like, “dude oh my god shut up and get on with it” sakjlfdkjsa)

I’m going to be referring to the four subtypes. I know these are controversial to some people. Some really don’t like these labels, others feel comforted by them, etc. They’re just to make it easier to talk about this whole thing. No one fits neatly into any one subtype! Some people don’t resemble any particular one! Everyone is different! Don’t box people into these subtypes if you haven’t been given consent, thanks!

Mr. A / Clark Donovan Mr. A is a classic example of the Quiet Borderline. Someone with quiet BPD mostly directs their symptoms inward. It’s harder to detect than other types, as the symptoms that are most prevalent are mostly expressed, well, inwardly. Self-esteem issues, self-blame, insecurity, withdrawing emotionally, pretending you’re not angry when you are, self harming tendencies, suicidal thoughts, etc. He’s also kind of clingy. Mr. A is an extremely loyal person to a fault. He is a people pleaser and will go to the ends of the Earth to make his loved ones happy, even if it hurts him. This is of detriment to him, as he often finds himself getting hurt on behalf of people who might not care as much as he does. He’s let a lot of bad people into his life solely because they made him feel loved, wanted and useful. He views everyone he loves through rose-tinted glasses and only takes them off long after he’s been laid to waste by them. He has terrible issues with self-image and has thus developed an eating disorder. He also has severe depersonalization/derealization disorder, which is a result of how his mental health interacts with his reality-warping powers. It creates a lot of anxiety with him, watching himself phase through things and bend the world around him on a whim. His motivations in life are connected to this, but his motivation to do evil things is not. He wants to bring other superpowered people together as a united front against humanity, as he feels that humanity is a threat to their continued existence. This has nothing to do with his mental health issues. The part of it that does tie in is that he’s painfully lonely and has chronic feelings of boredom, so being surrounded with a shit ton of different people mitigates that. It’s a motive for him bringing people closer to him, but it is not a motive for him to launch an attack on all humanity. He’d be really offended if you tried to accuse him of doing this on the basis that he’s just a bit ill. His illness literally just makes him crave contact with other living beings just like him. He sometimes does bad or stupid things because of this, but it literally has nothing to do with his motives as a villain. As an addendum of sorts, Mr. A’s alias and reluctance to use his given name (Clark Donovan) are a result of identity issues he suffers due to his BPD. He finds it hard to maintain a stable sense of identity, so he just... doesn’t.

Ivan Chanteur Ivan closely resembles what we like to call an Impulsive Borderline, comorbid with ADHD. He is an impulsive person, as the name of the subtype suggests. He’s a thrill-seeker who suffers from extreme levels of chronic boredom, which he desperately tries to combat by any means necessary. Staying still and doing repetitive tasks is literal torture for him. If he cannot get up and move and do whatever it takes to keep himself feeling fulfilled and occupied, he is probably going to fucking lose it. When he is actively vocalizing his boredom on a regular basis, this means the chronic feelings of boredom have reached critical mass. It’s not just boredom. It’s anxiety, it’s agitation, it’s existential dread, it’s an inability to focus, it’s pent-up energy that needs to go somewhere and can’t just stay in him anymore. If he can’t get it out in healthy ways, he usually resorts to self-harm or less-than-healthy pursuits. He’s been known to dabble in drugs, self-harm, occasional promiscuity on a bad night. While therapy’s helped him get a handle on it, there’ve been a lot of stressful and traumatic things going on in his life have have made it a lot harder to keep himself in check. Ivan is pretty charismatic, able to cast a wide net and catch all sorts of people in his social web. He has a sort of natural magnetism that, on a superficial level, should make him quite popular. But underneath it all, he has difficulty trusting people long enough to actually let them into his life. He’ll act like an open book, only to slam himself shut and reshelve himself before anyone can get anywhere near the end. He’s easy to befriend, but difficult to get close to. This has caused him to feel lonely and frustrated. He wishes he could easily form deep connections, but it’s hard and it hurts him. In addition to all of this, he engages in a wide variety of attention-seeking and risk-taking behaviors. He often spends time with people who are not good to him, simply for the thrill of it. This has often gotten him hurt, but he finds it hard to cut this habit in spite of everything. This leads to a lot of frustration and self-hatred, as it makes it hard for him to protect himself. Every time someone hurts or betrays him, he beats himself up over it and tells himself he should know better by now. All that said, though, he’s come a long way in therapy. He’s not quite able to keep a handle on all of it all the time, but he’s managed to secure one or two decently stable friendships along the way.

Eve Laurier Eve is particularly difficult to talk about, but I’m going to try my best. Eve is what happens when you make a conscious decision to be bad. He knows beyond a shadow of doubt that what he’s doing is wrong, but he feels so wronged by the world that he just cannot seem to motivate himself to care. This... again... has nothing to do with his BPD. If anything, it’s his struggles with this disorder that keep him at least somewhat... grounded in reality. Eve suffered a personal tragedy -- the loss of his twin sister in a housefire. Though ruled an accident, he cried foul play. Consumed with grief at the loss of the only person he felt could truly understand him, he vowed to find the culprit and make them pay. This set him down a path of vengeance that would make John Wick blush. Eve grew up as the heir to his family’s criminal enterprise. This put him in a position of power the very moment he was born. This also left him exposed to a lot of terrible, violent crimes from a very young age. Because this was normalized by his family, he internalized and compartmentalized any misgivings he had about violence. By the time he was ready for university, he had been thoroughly trained to carry out hitjobs on behalf of the family. He was a weapon from the moment he left the womb. He was groomed to do terrible things, and it’s because of this ongoing and continuous trauma that he developed his particular cocktail of mental health issues. He mostly fits in with the label of Petulant BPD. Repeated and violent trauma did a number on him, leaving him angry and hurt over what his parents let him fall victim to. He also experiences feelings of self-loathing over the part he feels he played in his own trauma, despite the fact that it started in early childhood. He is self-defeating and self-blaming. He has a difficult time expressing his feelings and has angry outbursts fairly regularly, often resulting in self-harm and suicidal ideation. He’s been known to reach for the nearest mind-altering substance just to get out of his head for a bit. His mood swings are intense and leave him feeling fatigued and anxious. He has severe social anxiety that sometimes manifests as cold indifference. He also has issues with control, has paranoid delusions about the people in his life and doesn’t often believe it when people say that they care for him. He will find any and every piece of evidence that points to the contrary, even if he has to make it up himself. This usually ensures that he’ll end up alone again. He doesn’t have very many close relationships, if any at all. His BPD is not the reason he hurts people. Any hurt caused by his BPD is directed at himself, not at others. His BPD is a direct result of what actually has primed him to hurt people. It’s a direct result of trauma. He’s traumatized. And no, trauma is no excuse for what he’s done -- but his BPD didn’t make him kidnap and torture Ivan while he waited for Ivan’s parents to send in the ransom. That was all Eve. That was his conscious decision to make, in spite of everything in his head telling him how awful and wrong he would be to do such a thing. He knew it was wrong and ignored it, as he was under the impression that Ivan’s family had a hand in his sister’s death. If anything, his BPD aggravates his feelings of shame and self-loathing when he does precisely what his parents had been training him to do his whole life.

Anyway-- I hope this was helpful or at least interesting.

The point I’m trying to make here is that mental illness isn’t some kind of ultimate litmus test of good and evil. A disorder doesn’t make you good or bad. It’s just another facet of who you are.

So... to that end... please for the love of fuck stop using personality disorders as the reason for someone’s villainy. Please. I am begging.

I wrote a bunch of BPD villains in various stages of villainhood because I have BPD and this disorder often makes you feel like you’re evil, a monster, etc. Honestly, on good days I feel like an inherently bad person who consciously chooses to do good. That’s very flawed and I know that logically I’m not inherently bad, but that’s kind of what stigma does. It makes you feel like you’re inherently bad. And that feeling influenced how I write all three of these characters.

This is an incoherent mess but today’s the day I find out if I have coronavirus and I’m so fucking stressed out and hopped up on DayQuil. Thanks for reading any of this, I guess?

[bionicdragonguardian1]

Ranma 2/4

Part  Two: Chapter 13 - 25

Unless someone comes up with a better name I’m sticking with this one

HOW tf is the principal crazier than before?!

Yup, spreading out the Kuno-Principal thing

Is Sasuke seriously an anime-only?!?

Like I said Ryoga needs to chill a little first

Main reason I don’t like Ukyo That scene where she blatantly states she’s fine with turning Ranma into something he’s not rather than helping him

(Ignoring the near constant amount of undermining his abilities)

“I’m gonna cheer him up” as she holds a sword! Why?!

 Ranma you dummy, hug Akane!

I hate this demon/ghost cat

Shampoo, you manipulative bitch

Akane learns to swim like a normal person

The lifeguard in me can’t do it

 The principal is background shenanigans

Totally forgot about the kid who wants to play video games and is “weak” bc of it

Definitely need to find a different reason tho

 Lazy little shits are a pain

Also his mom is crap

 Akane… why you be dumb?

 Weird Happosai is Santa plot…

What is with the Excalibur meets lucky 1000 meets fairy godmother?

Good news is, with what I’ve done to Kuno’s understanding of Ranma’s curse Ranma knows Kuno wouldn’t give him that wish and calls it quits sooner

Someone just needs to explain Ranma’s really confusing sense of morality to me

 Cuz it’s either on 110% or it’s nonexistent, now normally nonexistent is for Kuno but still

 Look Ranma’s got ego problems but he ain’t stupid

No betting the Tendo Dojo at five!

 On what planet is that a legal document?!?

Some1 tell me why Shampoo using Ranma as a stop ramp bugs me so bad

That mo when you can’t remember if the Hot Spring Challenge is when Ukyo met Shampoo in the anime…

I don’t think so…

Akane you made me need to google a word

That like never happens Ranma you idiot

So close but so far

So much more logic, thanks

I mean more insanity, but it explains why Ranma swapped clothes

Finally! Ranma apologizes

Jesus Christ someone would think I won the goddamn lotto with how loud I cheered when this happened

600% approve of this over what happened in the anime

Oof poor Ranma

Hahahaha in your face Shampoo, but I also think I know why Ranma chose it

Poor Ryoga

I KNEW this guy was coming I still hate it

YEET you can’t PAY ME to  do this arc

Look, is it the fact that I had etiquette and dance classes as a child and everyone assumed this is what it was like? Probably.

It wasn’t so I won’t.

Any1 else notice how Nabiki is one of the few ppl that uses she/her when Ranma is in his cursed form no matter what?

Why does this bug me?

Akane, stop beating Ranma up, honestly

This is closer to abuse rather than teasing

*sighs*

 Gotta work that out of the narrative, intentional or not

Every1 sayin she’s violent isn’t helping

Like I said really fucking morally GREY Nabiki

How grey can you go before you get black? 

 Let’s find out together

Can everyone PLEASE stop treating Ranma like an object?!

 I literally can’t tell if Nabiki is fucking Aro or not…

STRESS

Why is this so hard?!

I hate seeing Akane cry

I know she’s playing Ranma like a kazoo, but the point still stands

WHY ARE YOU TWO SO DUMB?!

Nope, nevermind it’s just Ranma that’s a fuckin idiot I blame Genma

No, I’m not kidding

*sighs* I don’t condone Nabiki doing this in any way just for the record THAT’S not an apology Ranma!

This mess is totally your fault Nabiki

STRESS

am I intentionally pointing out where this work of fiction is stressing me out since I’m now online schooling and suffering for it? Yes, fuck off.

 Actually, don’t.

But Fuck Covid19

Aww his hat’s back!

Why do I love his hat so much?

No, seriously Akane’s so cute!

Oooww tree

y’know the sec she realized what Ranma was doing Nabiki should’ve TOLD him!

Congrats Ranma ya got the wrong sis- I mean the right- but wrong- dammit y’know what I mean

Some1 give me a logical explanation for why Ranma goes on a date with a panda doodle, PLEASE

I do appreciate the epic battle background fight for the anime

Further proof that Happosai sucks

Manga name’s somehow less believable I think it’s the use of “snowman” rather than “yeti”

Did Soun just find out that Pchan is Ryoga, and say nothing?

Ooo, Imma commit arson

Remember when I said obey Physics and Medical, I meant it

Arson is wrong and I know this but “transgender bitch” crosses the line

I will do it

Shampoo is a fucking yandere psycho

Just sayin “we’ll see who can get him first” 

honestly, any other group and I’d be annoyed, but these four can’t work together for shit I

’m still pissed at Taro, but he can kill Happosai, please

I can’t tell if Shampoo, Mousse and Ryoga are being purposefully obtuse or not

I just reread their names I know the answer to at least two of them

Idk how I feel about Kuno-amnesia we’ll see

yep, Kuno gives me the creeps w or w/out his memories

kinda wish this was anime

jesus christ, poor Ranma

press f to pay respects for Ranma’s stomach

InstaRegret

 Also Ukyo’s assumption that some1 can make Ranma doing anythin he doesn’t want to is crap

Like HELLO! Wake up moron!

Nabiki, I mean this in the nicest way possible, shut the fuck up

You’re making it worse

Also TALK to each other you ding dongs!

OH RIGHT! I almost forgot about the biggest fucking insult that Ukyo said of her own freewill!

It also proves that she doesn’t know Ranma as a person AT ALL!

It’s not a pick one or the other kind of thing

The fact that she thinks Ranma would accept that is insulting

The fact that she thinks that is insulting and makes me hate the patriarchy

Again, treating him like a prize than a person

*tries not scream, sighs*

Nabiki, you’re the cause of at least 30% of the stress I get from this

You having feelings ain’t the fucking problem here Ukyo, you not acknowledging Ranma’s is

 I hate fake criers, anyone who does this I hate you

Always let others in on your plans, kids

When’s every1 gonna realize Ranma’s “wishy-washy” cuz no one’s ever committed to HIM before?

This episode confused me, I’m prepared to be MORE confused

Less confused, I’m surprised

 Gonsunkugi, you creep

There is SO much wrong with this

*shudders*

WHAT?!

Y’know I didn’t think Gosunkugi could surprise me, I was wrong

Happosai still sucks unfortunately for all of us he’s now weird on top of it

I love how much Ranma needs to be kicked in the teeth to get any character development out of him

Ryoga is my #1 choice for it, always

Ranma… why are you like this?

Genma, emotional range of a goddamn wall

I am jealous of Ranma’s brain

I could be SO mean with the Shishihokodan

Also, are they implying that Ryoga has depression?

Gimme Ranma’s brain

I won’t ask for his confidence cuz that’s impossible but I want his brain

In Akane’s defense, given what she knows she couldn’t’ve known how badly that would affect Ryoga

 I ain’t gonna say “leave Shampoo” cuz that’s cruel

I like the “turn into a Cat” rather than the “Can’t Cross” & the use of New Year’s rather than random but this still brings around the fact that she doesn’t LISTEN to him

Mousse you’re NOT helping in fact you’re actively making it worse did you miss when he said blatantly “I don’t wanna”

oh, sure, NOW you’re ok with it

ugh Mousse, you have a brain, I’ve SEEN you use it. Do so now.

This entire episode weirded me out

IDK if it’s the age-dff or the fact that he was makin it up and somehow everyone thought this was okay … 

I won’t YEET it but MASSIVELY change

heheheh

Light bulb

NOPE I’m keeping this surprise to myself

it was a rather sweet end tho

Oh, this episode is a mess and a half, honestly

Also Nabiki, congrats you’ve literally enabled a stalker S

o many laws are broken here

okay, so Kodachi not being in on Ranma’s secret after so long makes sense purely because she doesn’t go to their school

however, with what i’ve done to make Kuno marginally less dumb it makes a little bit less sense…

I literally hate Kuno with what I’ve done to his logic of Ranma’s transformation, but that’s the point Kodachi… how do I handle you… oh, duh!

Ok, so Kodachi is now also terrible

 I’m trying to figure out where this is in the plot since there is ZERO

Ok, there’s a LINE, Nabiki

This one would be touching, if it didn’t end the way it does

TALK gentlemen! 

It won’t kill you

Fuck a parent that says they’re not your parent for no reason, EVER

I am going to make this hurt

 Also gonna take out Genma’s fail at stealth

 Remember I said Akane’s going to learn to cook

heheheh

sorry, I just love this idea

Oh this is SO against the rules it’s not even funny

 tiny adjustment so they actually have quasi-competent referees

Crazy wants crazy?I won’t stop ‘em

I reiterate: CHEATING!

I am aware that the “ending” apparently sets them back to the start in terms of their relationship but I swear to God if they pretend shit like this didn’t happen I will scream

 Someone ships something other than Akane x Ranma PLEASE explain why/how

don’t ship bash but I would insight when you explain 

STICK TO CANON

please trust me, I’m a multi/poly/crack shipper

(for frame of reference to a bnha I ship DabiHawks)

I understand the appeal of Fanon

however, I would like to stick to Canon here

so no Fanon

Canon Only

Fully love that high kick

Genma shows Ranma’s secret here, but they already know… so… I shall find out

Ooo, you’re not getting out of this Ranma

Do you know how tempting it is for Akane to at least tell Ranma she’s a girl- oh wait gendered sports… right…

Ranma… 

if you didn’t realize it was Akane when she hit you for calling her klutzy I can’t help you

I want to commit arson at some of the comments…

but can confirm that these are HS boys

 Doesn’t mean I gotta like it

I was wondering how long I was going to have to wait before tearing into Nodoka

FINALLY

Took me WAY too long to remember that Nodoka calling Ranko tomboyish is due to how he speaks in Japanese

I’ll need to figure that out since… English

Can I explode on Genma’s choice to take Ranma at TWO?!

Can I further explode on both of them for making a TWO YEAR OLD “sign” a Seppuku Pledge?!

I hate both of them, honest

ALSO communication! 

Genma! Just fucking TELL HIM!

Making her transphobic is SO tempting

I don’t mean in a “i hate you” way I mean in a “I sheltered my whole life” way

 It’s still bad, and painful, but she can easily learn from that

Or be worse, this could go 2 ways

I feel so bad for Akane for this entire conversation

Also poor Ranma like ouch… 

 Awkward

I’m going to make this hurt something fierce

Slight change since I’m hoping Ranma isn’t as “peak fight or flight” by this point

Genma don’t be an asshole for FIVE MINUTES

Please, that’s all I want

If she doesn’t learn the truth before the end I will make a bad decision

Really, I will

Don’t kill Genma, you can’t

 Akane, don’t say like you wouldn’t… honestly

Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, honestly, just look the other way Ranma

*sigh* 

Ranma…

See, this kind of crap here is why I really don’t like Cologne

any other day Akane’d be right

oof, that means he self aware that girls flock to him

I’m quite frustrated by that if I’m honest

Ranma is clueless about all the wrong things

I love him but God I wanna punch him sometimes

Why is there a swing from the ceiling?!

I had a jolt from the way they set that panel up, thanks

Are you trying to kill me?!

Thank you Cologne, now fuck off

Oh thank God, at least he learned

This is nonanime stuff so I have no clue what’s happening but anything to make Happosai miserable

I’m enjoying this immensely

 ugh, “think of it as a compliment” ghost

Eat me

 okay, yeah, as much as I want him dead, that’s worse

I’m glad he’s not a one-and-done character

I will forever ONLY call him Taro when it is NonDialogue

Wait Saffron as in big-bad Saffron?

I literally only know pieces of the end so I’m just pulling from what I know

Lol, wait… was that soldier Anime only too?

I almost liked you there for a sec Taro

Now I’m pissed again

bravo

Oh, YIKES

… if Ranma falls into the Spring of Drowned Twins would he split?

 I’m not going to DO IT, obviously!

I’m just curious okay… 

that answers that… and kills anyone other than Ranma’s plan to turn back to normal I hope everyone is aware of that

oof

Since when is there a castle on an island in Japan

tis just a scratch, I’ll admit that was funny

Ranma… your stomach gets you in so many problems

ok, that was wholesome

I approve

Okay, so my understanding is that Mrs. Tendo got sick, so I can understand the reactions to Kasumi

BUT I still find it odd because… well… anyone in my house gets sick and you mostly can’t even tell I mean, minus a worse attitude and a mask, other than that though, nope we keep ‘er movin’

 I’m moving this section sooner EVEN IF IT KILLS ME!

I like her mom’s cookbook tho

I could make a Ranma x Ryoga joke here, but I won’t

I also won’t make a Ranma x Ryoga joke chapter cuz I’m nice like that

Actually I might have no choice

I’m FINE just dying

 Help

my multishipper heart is dying here

 I love this

InstaRegret for THREE people

If nothing else, I’m impressed

(well three once Ranma’s back to normal)

I need help

Fangirling/Fanboying/Fanpeopling is dangerous folks, remember that

Poor Ryoga

Though I too feel that right now like where do I look because everything coming in at mach 6

I’m changing that one scene tho cuz I can’t justify the aftermath without it

This… is… weird to say the least

I feel like I should just expect anything with Gosunkugi remotely involved to be weird at this point

okay, not as weird as I expected

glad it was short tho

I think I am officially out of anime terf

YAY, new content!

This is why I ask about any ship that isn’t Ranma x Akane

Also, names?

That- that- that can’t... 

I DIDN’T NEED TO KNOW THAT!

EWWW

gross

WHY?!?!!

also, biology, that’s not how that works!!

You two ARE idiots

Ryoga you die I’ll kill you

Well… that hurt to see so quick…

Ranma, get up!

I officially hate this Herb guy

ok, so if you put HOT water in the ladle do you stay that way forever?

Alright! Way to go Ryoga!

I need to stop shipping Rivals it’s bad for my health

fucking eat it you dick!

 Poor Akane

nevermind, Ranma you idiot

awwwww

ok, so that whole no more Anime-content… I was wrong, and I admit that, but still

I’m just thinking of my bff when they realize she’s an adult cuz, yeah, she’s like that too

 except like physically an adult unlike tiny-Hinako

 oh MY GOD Ukyo you’re driving me up the goddamn wall I swear!

THANK YOU AKANE!

 “You’re all Ranma’s fiancées” when only one of them actually is 

GIANT SIGH OF ANNOYANCE

Ranma, learn to communicate, PLEASE!

Okay… so is this where they figured it out or are some ppl still in the dark?

TIMELINE!!

Honestly, mood Ranma, mood

This entire plot line confuses me if I’m being totally honest

I mean I live for the Akane focus, but there are so many better ways to do this

[princessplantasaurus]

A Part 2

Part two of this

Quentin Beck x Female OC Sometime after Iron Man 2 but before Age of Ultron (but we’re getting closer to Ultron now) OBVIOUSLY spoilers for Spider-Man: Far From Home

Content warning: alcohol, strong language, LOTS of sexuality including vaginal fingering, hair pulling, blowjobs, voyeurism, insertional intercourse  Previously:  So more often than not, she did her best to pretend it never happened. Pretend her only contact with him was that day in the break room. Which would’ve been made much easier, if he wasn’t suddenly taking all his breaks at the same time she was, eyes always on her, as if studying her every move. In a way, it was degrading, and yet...it was almost exhilarating. Like a game of cat and mouse. And god, did she ever want him to pounce on her already. But Beck was still waiting, still calculating. He was going to pounce, but the moment, of course, had to catch her off guard.

This didn’t make the weeks leading up to the company Christmas party any less stressful for Veronica. Of course, the holidays were a stressful enough time on their own, without the constant thoughts of Beck in the back of her mind. So when the night of the party did roll around, Veronica’s only plan for the evening was drinking just enough that things got blurry and then finally letting go, relaxing, having a good time.

This plan got spoiled before she even had a chance to finish her first flute of champagne. Swaggering up with a flute of champagne in each of his hands, Quentin raised an eyebrow at her glass, taunting “Looks like I arrived just in time.”

Eyebrows knitting in confusion, she questioned “What are you-”

She was cut off by the gesture of him outstretching an arm, wiggling the champagne flute enough to get her attention, but not enough so that any of the drink spilled. “Here. It’s for you. I got it for you.”

Veronica glanced carefully between her drink and the one in his hand, up to him, and then back to her own drink. Acting on impulse and deciding it best to trust him, she quickly downed what was left of her initial drink, before coyly questioning “Are you trying to get me drunk?” while taking the second drink out of his hand.

“Maybe.” he smirked, but in such a way that only one side of his mouth twitched upwards. Bringing his eyes away from her for the first time since he made his way over, he took a sip of his own, carefully glancing back out into the sea of partying Stark employees, before he questioned “You still sleeping with Stark?”

With a huff, she snapped her head towards him, stating clearly and aggressively “I never was. And I’m still not.”

The sideways glance he gave her was cautious, calculated, and reeked of curiosity “Potts? Didn’t tag you as playing for that team.”

“I’m not sleeping with anyone.” she corrected, with a roll of her eyes, but it was jovial. Unlike the last time they’d spoken, this didn’t seem serious, not a legitimate accusation of her character. Two coworkers joking around, shooting the breeze.

“No one at all, huh?” he questioned, before giving her the classic once over, biting down on his lip before pretending he hadn’t just made such an obvious move, shrugging as he looked back out to the party, mumbling “What a shame.” as his champagne got closer to his lips.

Cheeks flushing intensely, Veronica managed to stutter out “Excuse me?!?”

“I’m just saying” Quentin shrugged casually. “I’m sure a lot of people at this company would gladly trade promotional favors for sexual ones if you were the one offering.”

“Why do I have to be sleeping with someone to get ahead in the company in this scenario?” she questioned “Can’t I just be sleeping with someone cause I’m attracted to them? No strings attached?”

In retrospect, Quentin sitting his drink down and actively walking away from it should’ve been her first clue to where the rest of the night was headed. With a shake of his head a low chuckle, he countered “Oh no, sweetie, that opens up your sexual availability to the likes of me, and you don’t want that.”

“What makes you think you know what I want?” she teased, batting her eyelashes, still assuming this was all a game “Maybe I want that. Maybe I want you.”

With a breathy exhale of “You shouldn’t have said that”, suddenly Veronica’s senses were flooded with nothing but Quentin. Quentin’s hands on her face, his cologne in her nostrils, his beard just lightly scratching the area around her mouth, how surprisingly soft and wet and warm his lips were, the moan he let escape as she dropped her drink, letting her hands rake through his hair, kissing him back just as passionately and urgently as he kissed her.

And then...then they were in a cab. She couldn’t remember when they left, where they were going or how they got there. She remembered still being at the party when his tongue slipped inside her mouth the first time, and then...a lustful haze...and then Quentin’s predatory growls of pleasure as he bit at her neck, hand up her skirt and clawing at her thigh, brushing the silk of her panties just often enough to elicit a sharp gasp.

All it took was his other hand, the one that had been cradling her neck, to slip farther down as he attempted to fondle her breast as best as possible given that her dress was still covering her up, for her to finally break. “MMMM! Fuck!” she cried, causing him to cease the trail of hickeys he was leaving on her neck, lifting his head up to look at her as she whimpered “I need...please…”

Lifting both hands, and practically glowing in the shock that caused her, he touched her again, but only with one finger, to tilt her head to look him in the eye “What do you need, Veronica?”

“I need you…”

“Need me to what?” he continued to play dumb, but in such an obvious way that it was impossible for her to misunderstand why. He was loving every second of this.

“T-touch…”

“I’m already touching you, Veronica. Did you want me to touch you somewhere else?”

“You know…” she whined.

“But I don’t.” he shrugged. “You’ll have to tell me.”

She really didn’t want to say it. The cab driver could hear her. Having gone as far as they had with someone else present was already voyeuristic enough. But he was locking those beautifully blue eyes with hers, wide and full of feigned naivety, nodding at her to go on. “My pussy.” she mumbled, embarrassed.

“Do what with your pussy?” he questioned. “Use your words, Veronica. Full sentence. Come on.”

“I want you to finger my pussy, Quentin,” she hissed “fuck.”

“Is that all?” he smirked, lifting her skirt back up and sneaking his hand up and under the silk undergarment, rubbing it gently, at first, as Veronica threw her head back in pleasure. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Just gotta ask for what you want, honey. I’ll give it to you.”

And with that, he did give it to her. One finger, at first, just to gauge her reaction, but then pulled out and reentered with two. “I didn’t take you for such a whore, Veronica. Good girls don’t like getting fingered in the back of a dirty cab. But you’re not a good girl, are you?” he paused, as if to see if she was going to argue, but the only noises she made were her laboured breathing and a lot of short cries of pleasure as fingers continued to thrust inside of her. “No, you’re my little whore. Say it. Say you’re mine, whore.”

“Quentin…” she moaned, as she felt it was all she could do.

“Come on,” he urged. “Full sentences, remember?”

“I’m your little whore” she whimpered, almost crying from just how close she was to release, and just how good he was at edging her there.

And then she felt it. His other hand rubbing against her clit. God, she was close. She could literally feel it coming. Any second now. 

“Mmmm, good job.” he smirked.

And Veronica hated to admit that his praise is what did her in, but it did.

And thank goodness, because as she began to come down from her climax, the cab slowed to a stop. As she sat back up and yanked her skirt back down, she saw Quentin pay the driver, and assumed that this was, in fact, their stop. She opened the door to find that they were in Battery Park City, in front of one of the neighbourhood’s more modest looking apartment complexes.

As the taxi drove away, Quentin pulled keys out of his pocket, and then wrapped his arm around her waist with his free hand. “You’ve got to have your fun. Now it’s my turn.”

She giggled with excitement as he lead into the building, climbing the stairs to the second floor. The top of the stairwell, he decided was as good of place as any to kiss the hell out of her again, and Veronica wasn’t exactly resisting. Letting his lips travel south to her jaw, and then her neck, he mumbled “I don’t know if I can make it to my apartment.”

And as much as there was a very active part of Veronica’s brain that wanted to agree and let him take her right then and there in the stairwell, she had also already been fingered to climax in the back of a cab, and she didn’t want to make a habit of the whole public thing, god forbid she might discover that it had awakened something. “How far is your place?” she asked, the fingers previously combing through his hair giving a slight tug.

“Four doors down.” he admitted.

“That’s not far,” she reasoned. “And then you can do whatever you want to me.”

He chuckled, almost darkly, as he countered “I was planning on that anyway, sweets.”

And with a sudden yank of her hand, they were in the hallway, in front of his door, his hand only leaving hers to fumble with his keys, but as soon as the door was open, his hands were on her waist, the door was slammed behind them, and he’d somehow managed to sandwich her against it. Lips and tongues mixing in hot, desperate movements, as Quentin did his best to try and get her dress off of her. Problem being that the zipper to that garment was on her back that he’d slammed against his front door.

Pulling away from their sloppy wet kisses, he muttered “Jesus Christ, am I going to have to rip this thing off with my teeth?”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” she teased, breathlessly, before sliding out from under him and unzipping the back. “This was expensive though.”

With a smirk accompanied by a borderline predatory gaze, he conceded “I can work with that.”

And suddenly, she hit his mattress with a soft thud, Quentin hovering over her, yanking the dress off of her body, his own shirt gone and his pants unzipped. “Fuck,” he muttered, seeming almost genuinely upset “You really weren’t wearing a bra this whole time?”

“It’s a strapless dress.” she stated, as though it was an obvious forgone conclusion.

“You really are a whore.”

She didn’t have a chance to respond, as he was back to kissing her, now happily letting his hands knead her breasts, chuckling deliciously in the delight he took in hearing the high and sharp “mmm!” she made when his thumbs ran over her nipples, languidly flicking them back and forth. 

“You like that?” he smirked, pulling away. 

Veronica nodded, almost helplessly, and squirmed in pleasure as he lightly booped her nose, assuring her “We’re gonna have a lot fun tonight, honey.”

Before she had time to think about what was happening, she was flipped onto her stomach, Quentin having discarded his pants, working now on removing the panties he’d been so happily playing under not so long ago. “You were so wet when I was fingering you in that cab, Veronica.” he practically purred, lifting her legs around his torso like a wheelborrow. “Slippery job, getting you off. Can you do that again for me? Can you drip all over cock?”

“Wait,” she muttered, turning her head around best she could, her voice clearer and more assured as she asked “Are you hard already?”

She got her answer in the form of Quentin shoving his entire dick inside of her. “Fuck,” he gasped “you’re so tight. You’re such a small thing, Hansen.” 

She wasn’t sure which shocked her more, the sudden slap to her ass as he continued to thrust into her, or the sudden realization that it was the first time she’d heard Beck voice her last name. 

Doing her best to meet his thrusts and match his rhythm (being taken from behind was throwing her off her game), she caught even herself off guard as her back completely arched when, after curling her hair around his fist, Quentin gave the copper tresses a pull. Voice slightly ragged from the physical exertion of pounding into her pussy, his lips were suddenly at her ear, muttering “I think about pulling your hair every single time you pull it into a ponytail in the break room. Taunting me. And now every time you do it, you’re going to think about me, aren’t you? You’re going to think about how good that felt.”

And for a moment, she was back in the break room, tying her hair up, with Quentin watching her. Always watching her so intently. But now she imagined a devious gleam in his eye, a knowing smile. With another yank of her hair she was brought back to the bedroom, back to reality, back to his lips still at her ear, his breath hot, his breathing getting more and more irregular as his thrusts became more and more sporadic. “Fuck,” he muttered, surprisingly gently, before suddenly lifting himself farther from her, pulling his dick out.

Veronica watched in confusion as he climbed off the bed, before he pointed to the carpet, stating “on your knees.”

Apparently, her slow blink in horny confusion wasn’t a fast enough response for him, because suddenly he was pulling her hair again, but in a much less sexy way, as he barked “I said ON YOUR KNEES, Veronica! What part of that are you having trouble with?!?”

She obliged this time, moving as quickly as possible. Of course, she knew what he wanted. She took just the tip in her mouth at first, glancing up as she bobbed back and forth, slowly pushing a little more into her mouth each time. She glanced up, cautiously, but as his eyes rolled back in his head it seemed like whatever caused that outburst had dissipated. He was enjoying it, bucking his hips towards her, needily. There was a shuddered gasp of her name, and then pulling out, quickly, to try and aim to cum on her tits. “That’s my Veronica,” he praised “That’s my good girl.”

She wasn’t about to admit it, but there was something inherently arousing about being covered in his jizz. As he flopped himself back onto the bed, sitting this time, she remained on the floor, slowly but surely massaging the cum by fondling her own breasts. Each of her tits in one of her hands, she moved them up and down, gently rubbing against each other, quickening in pace. She was almost ready to start grinding her clit against the carpet of his bedroom, but as she let out a small moan of pleasure, Quentin’s eyes flickered back to her, and his sudden moan was a lot louder than hers.

“You really are just a sick little slut, aren’t you?” he questioned, moving, not to touch her, but to start stroking his own dick, watching her. With an almost lazy smirk, he added “Perfect for a sick little guy like me.”

She would’ve blushed if her cheeks weren’t already flushed from her own arousal, as she nodded, looking up to him, making eye contact as she let one of her hands drop to her clit.

Immediately, Quentin’s hand was on her arm. “No no no, don’t do that.” his voice was hushed. “Both hands on your tits. Please.”

“But-”

“You need to get off.” he finished automatically, before tapping his thigh, inviting her up. “Come on. Get up here.”

“You sure?” she questioned, standing back up.

He nodded, letting go of his erection, using both hands to grab her by the waist and pull her onto him. “You’re my little whore, remember? I gotta take care of you. And you,” he paused, taking her hand in his, leading it to his cock, making her stroke it “Got to take care of this. This is your fault. You made it show up. Now take care of it,” his eyes widened, in a way she wasn’t sure was playful or not, as he lustfully whispered “whore.”

For a moment, she was content to tease him, continuing to rub his dick, brushing her thumb over the tip now and again to hear him groan. But while he’d gotten off to her mouth just a few minutes ago, she hadn’t gotten off since the taxi over. She didn’t make him wait too long before climbing onto his dick, riding it quickly, deeply, mewling and moaning in how good it felt all the while. 

Beck was quick to buck against her, quickly capturing her lips in his again, now that they were facing each other. Bringing his lips down to leave a slobbery trail across her jaw, his beard scratching at her neck, the sensation only heightening every thrust, every other touch. 

Veronica’s head fell against his, foreheads touching, with a soft whimper of “Quentin…”

“Tell me you’re mine,” he whispered breathlessly. “Tell me I’m the only one who makes you feel like this.”

“Quentin, I’m-mmmm!” 

He didn’t get to hear what he wanted, but he did get the next best thing, as the warm wet walls of her vagina clenched and tightened around his cock, Veronica riding out her climax while still on top of him. Her fingernails digging into shoulders, he felt his own push, doubling up in speed for the next few seconds before he completely poured out inside of her.

“Did you…?”

“I’ll pay for the Plan B, don’t worry.” he assured her, before throwing himself back onto his bed, finally lying down. Waiting for her head to hit the mattress next to him, he turned to her as she did, smirking “So good, right?”

Nodding, eyelids falling from exhaustion and exertion, she echoed. “Good. Really good.”

He nodded back, licking his lips slowly, before finally questioning “Better than Stark?”

“I’m still not sleeping with him.” she droned monotonously.  A small, genuine smile crept up on his lips, as he found himself murmuring “Good.”