#so i can't be like ''oh my god i know that's inaccurate i have no idea why i said that'' because i *don't* know until after i've done it

[sulfurrrr]

> You are encased in the cement that is those you love who love you.

> It protects you. Makes you beautiful. It will immortalize you.

> Your legs are restless.

> You're going to have to move, sooner or later.

> The sun will blind you, at first. The wind will feel like razors against your skin for a time.

> Do you think it'll be worth it?

> Who would choose to become human, over art?

> There will be times where your once graceful shoulders will hunch in pain. Your formerly serene face crumpled in ugly anger.

> You will be so scared to turn around and see the wreckage. Chunks of cement and dust are all that will be left of the statue you used to be.

> Aren't you scared?

[dredshirtroberts]

it is not slacking off to write or create it is not slacking off to do things that are fun i am not slacking off or procrastinating right now i'm allowed to do things i enjoy doing for fun including playing games and writing and such

[lxnarphase]

━ ❝ OH, IT'S MINIKUNA ! ❞

✮₊‧⁺...content: heian era!sukuna x wife!reader, fluff, mentions of childbirth, sukuna is an overly proud father, sukuna is whipped for his wife

✮₊‧⁺...lunar's note: based of this little blurbie and this one too !! needed some fluff with kuna bc he would love having a baby girl idc what anyone says !!! also i did my best describing the birthing process in a time accurate period but it's definitely a bit inaccurate because...i have never had a baby LOL

no one has ever seen sukuna ryomen, king of curses, wince before.

not until today, at the wrath of his pregnant wife who somehow got a hold of his fingers instead of his hand.

one of the nurses did warn him to not give you his finger and to ensure you always hold his hand. but by the gods, he swears you almost ripped his finger off.

it's cute to him, however, when you attempt to curse him out.

'gods, sukuna, i despise your entire being!'

'i know, my wife.'

'i should've never let you get me pregnant, you animal!'

'you begged for it, my wife.'

'i am never letting you bed me again, use your hand for the rest of your existence!'

'you can't keep your hands off me, my wife, no need to lie.'

but the sigh of relief, the way you instantly look down and coo once the sound of wailing filled the air...it makes him melt just a little bit.

he can't deny, seeing you in pain made him heated. it took everything in him not to kill every midwife, nurse, and lady-in-waiting in your birth room for not being able to make this process completely painless.

except chiyo. he would have to reward your personal physician for preparing you so well for this...

what did the old hag like again? wines, meats, gifts for her grandchildren back at home?

hm, yes, that would be great for her. of course, he'll say it was from you. the king of curses shows gratitude for no one.

he's pulled out of his thoughts at the hushed whispers once the other women exam the baby before following your unspoken request to hold your child.

"d-do you think lord sukuna will harm our lady for this...?"

"i hope not, surely he can make an exception, t-they both are still young and can always try for more!"

"but he's the king of curses, t-there no way he won't have a reaction!"

before he can demand what they find so important to discuss in front of you, chiyo hushes the girls with a wave of her hand, ushering the girls to help wipe off your sweat, tears, and clean off the baby—gentle like it's the finest glass, she instructs—before turning to sukuna with a knowing smile.

"well, your greatness...congratulations on having a healthy and gorgeous little girl," she hums, wiping her hands with a clean cloth before going to rinse her hands to help stitch any rips and clean you up.

the room falls silent aside from your soft little coos and the wails of your daughter as you brush the wet, fluffy hair on her little head.

all the women in the room continue to work, but it's clear they are silently waiting for his outburst.

everyone knows that a proper heir to any throne is a boy...but now, sukuna's first born child is a girl.

but rather angry, yelling, and threats to your and your child's life, the room is filled with Suku's booming laughter, which practically shakes the entire room.

instead of an enraged expression, pure delight, and excitement are painted on his face as he sits next to you on the soft cushiony bedding on the floor, his hand caressing the rounded cheek of your newborn.

"so, you've given me a girl," he hums in delight, all four of his eyes narrowing. "this will be the one who takes over my throne once i decide to step down?"

this thing, this tiny, itty bitty baby...came from you both? it's almost laughable how small this baby is compared to his hand, that something so little could be related to him.

she's...nothing short of perfect. "absolutely divine...she will not just be beautiful like her mother, but as powerful as both of us."

he's so proud of you and your child. he would shower your daughter with riches, love, and anything she could ever want and ask for.

but, he couldn't lie.

she's a damned fat baby, big head and all.

"sukuna, watch your mouth!"

he can't help but laugh, not realizing his thoughts came out of his mouth. "what, it's a good thing! means she's healthy," he boasts with a grin, leaning down closer to see her better.

"she looks strong already. as soon as she is able, i will personally teach her how to be a truly malevolent little princess, how to properly slit the necks of her enemies, how to—!”

oh, he is so excited, it's adorable.

“sukuna, shush, i just gave birth to a child with a massive head like yours, give me a moment," you say with a light laugh, your smile still reaching your clearly tired eyes.

“…apologies, my wife.”

chiyo can't help but laugh with you she finishes applying the healing ointment on your lower body, using a bit of her cursed energy to speed up the healing process to help you skip any serious pain.

after all, nothing but the best physician for you in sukuna's palace.

"always such an excitable boy, my lord, ever since you were a young man," she hums, helping one of the midwives properly wrap your baby in the soft, clean cloth.

"be gentle with her," you instruct him, gently moving your arms toward him so he could take the little bundle. he's...nervous, but he hides it well.

you place your daughter in his arms and he looks down at her, suddenly conscious of how loud he's breathing. she's got his hair, still a bit wet but soft and fluffy. it's pink, just like his.

a pleased rumble vibrates his chest, and he doesn't even realize he's doing it.

but then...her eyes open.

both sets.

he almost didn't notice it at first, they're just so small, but they're there. the same color as yours, pretty and big, filled with so much life.

his eyes burn, vision getting blurry. no words come to his head, he can't think of anything to say. he's so caught up in his thought he doesn't even notice chiyo ushering the other girls in the room out and shutting the door before quietly tending to you with water or food.

she knows that look, you do as well. she's been around longer than uraume to know her master, knowing the king of curses since his young years as the unwanted child of the village, abandoned by his mother for his 'horrid' appearance.

she was lucky to have found him before the villagers got to him, torches, axes, pitchforks and daggers in hand to take care of the child who they believed to have brought misfortune to their home.

getting him to safety was one of the best decisions she'd ever made, king of curses or not. no child deserved to be abandoned like that. and now, he's seeing himself in that tiny little being in his arms right now...chiyo can only imagine what he's feeling.

so, out of respect, she keeps her gaze averted, pretending she does not see the misty gaze he gives your daughter. this is a moment for you and him, and she does her best to make all her movements as quiet as possible.

all sukuna can think about in this moment is how he used to be just as tiny as this. he was just as vulnerable in his mothers arms. he couldn't talk, couldn't speak, couldn't fend for himself.

yet, his parents looked down at him just like this and decided he was an abomination and didn't give him a chance.

but now?

sukuna knows he would never, ever let anything happen to this little bundle in his arms. he would rather destroy the entire planet before letting anything happen to his baby girl. no one would make his little one suffer and live to see another day.

he flinches just a little, feeling your soft hand rubbing his bicep. "it's okay, my love," you softly coo at him, reaching up to wipe a tear from his eye before it had a chance to drip down his cheek. "she's going to grow up feeling loved and cherished because she's got a great father."

"hmm..."

a smile crosses his features as he looks back down, looking at the squirming baby so makes a little noise before calming down when he strokes her little, chubby cheek again to keep her from crying again.

"and she's got a great mother. she'll be the most wonderful princess in all of history," he says with a toothy grin, chest rumbling with a laugh.

"aww, my love, that's so sweet..."

"seriously, though, how in hells did you squeeze this thing out of ya? thing's got the head of a watermelon."

"sukuna, give me back my baby, and chiyo? get this man some food to stuff in his mouth before he says something to warrent the rage of a new mother."

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[azmageddon]

I Can't Lose Him (Part Three)

Pairing: Ariel x Cassian's twin!healer!reader

Summary: Finally, Ariel wakes up.

Warning: Painfully inaccurate to the original storyline.

a/n: Part three of I Can't Lose Him! Let me know if you'd like to hear more about the pair!

The commotion in the tent gets louder as you rush toward it. There’s an argument happening inside, and the sound of shattering glass reaches your ears. It isn’t until you hear Nesta shout at Azriel to “Sit down!” that you realize you’ve left the two most stubborn fae in all of Prythian alone together. 

When you whip the tent flap open, you’re met with a dizzying scene. 

Azriel, leg still splinted straight and right arm bandaged tightly to his torso, has a white knuckle grip on the wooden chair beside the bed. It groans under the pressure as he puts all of his weight on it to help him stand. Nesta, however, is attempting to form a human shield, with two hands splayed on his chest, attempting to push him back down to the bed.

“Damn it, Azriel, sit down! You’re half dead; do you want to be all dead?” Nesta pushes with all of her strength, but even injured, centuries of training is not lost on the Shadowsinger as he refuses to be forced down. Clearly, the two have not heard you enter the tent, as their arguing only continues.

“Tell me where she is, Nesta,” Azriel hisses through clenched teeth, trying to ignore the pain that you’re sure is ravaging his body.

“Y/N is going to kill you herself when she finds you out of bed. Plus you’ve smashed the pain tonic. Now for the last time: Sit. Down. Right. Now.” Nesta pushed with each word, anger lacing her voice, but still, your mate would not relent.

“I don’t care if Cassian is with her, tell me where she is. Knowing him, she’s probably worse off than being alone.”

“What is going on in here?” you shout, rushing to Azriel’s side. “Are you insane, Az? Sit down before you rip your stitches out!” 

Both Nesta and Azriel instantly stop their arguing at the sound of your voice. The hazel eyes that meet yours were ablaze with worry and confusion, but instantly soften to relief when he sees you. 

“Thank the gods,” Nesta said, dropping her arms to her sides and stepping away from Azriel. “You have the most possessive and unreasonable mate in existence.”

“Oh, like yours is any better,” you joke, convincing Azriel to at least sit on the side of the bed for the time being.

If Nesta was affected at all by your words, she didn’t let on, her face as neutral as ever. “He’s not my mate,” she deadpanned. 

You felt a smile working its way into your mouth and you quickly turned away so she wouldn’t see. “Sure he isn’t, Nesta,” you replied, amused by both her’s and your brother’s blatant ignorance. You winked at Azriel, hoping to lighten the mood and reference the countless times the two of you had whispered about Nesta and Cassian. But your attempt at making the joke was met with a look of displeasure from your mate. 

“Are you going to tell me where you were? Why did you swear Nesta to secrecy?” Azriel interjected, his eyes boring into you with frustration and pain.

You signed. “Honestly, I’d rather not,” you replied, pushing his dark hair away from his sweat soaked forehead. 

“Rhys and Cassian took her to Devlon’s tent to heal him.”

“What?!” Azriel made to stand again but you pushed him back down with one hand on each shoulder. Centuries of training hadn’t been lost on you either, despite your exhaustion.

“Nesta!”

“See you later,” she said, fake innocence in her voice as revenge for calling Cassian her mate. She flipped her braid over her shoulder and spun away to leave, pushing the tent flaps open and closed with more force than seemed necessary. 

“Why would you do that for Devlon?” Azriel asked, eyes roaming over you for signs of the Lord of Windhaven and his less than respectful approach to Illyrian females. 

“Relax, Az, he barely tolerated me near him, let alone him wanting to touch me.” You took this opportunity to get Azriel back into bed, swinging his legs up and helping him reposition himself. “Besides, Cassian and Rhys were with me. Cassian almost ripped his head off for much less.”

He chose not to respond, instead closing his eyes and taking deep, calming breaths.

“Why didn’t you take the pain tonic I left for you?” you asked, already knowing the answer. It was at your feet, the bottle shattered in a million pieces and the liquid seeping into the dirt floor. 

“I’m fine,” was his only response. Stupid, prideful, Illyrian baby, you thought.

Digging through your medical bag, you found another tonic and touched it to his lips, encouraging him to drink. But the moment you brought it to his mouth, he pulled his head away, refusing to drink it.

“Don’t make me force feed you, Az. I need to check your stitches,” you warned, hoping it would convince him to drink it.

“No.”

“Don’t be stupid, it will help you.”

“Why did you close your side of the bond?” he asked, opening his eyes and cocking an eyebrow in your direction. You were taken aback by the sudden change in topic. You turned away and placed the tonic on the side table with a quiet clink before sitting on the side of the bed, admitting defeat.

“I didn’t want you to know where I was in case you woke up. I know how much you hate Devlon. But obviously that didn’t work out as I planned.” 

“You never close your side of the bond. I thought something had happened to you. And then when I woke up, Nesta was there, not you. She refused to tell me where you were or what happened. I tried to reach out, but you were completely closed off to me. I thought… I thought something…” he stopped, his good arm flying up to the stitches on his side and hissing in pain.

You reached for the pain tonic, and this time, you gripped his chin and tipped it inside his mouth. “Drink it,” you demanded. With a swift bob of his Adam’s apple and quick dart of his tongue across his bottom lip, you were satisfied.

The two of you sat quietly for a few moments, Azriel’s confession laying heavily in the air between you. After what felt like forever, you knew you were going to have to be the one to break the silence. Azriel was, afterall, a spymaster for a reason.

“I was scared,” you admitted, dropping your gaze to your hands. “You fell 200 feet out of the sky. When you were first hurt, I thought I was going to lose you. And then you were screaming. I had never heard that sound come out of you before in my entire life. I had both my arms inside your chest, Az. I had to cut you open while you screamed for me to stop. I couldn’t be your mate in those moments; I couldn’t hold your hand and tell you it was going to be alright. I couldn’t send comfort through the bond. At that moment, all I could do was scream at Cassian to hold you still while I butchered you.” You turned your hands over and stared at your palms, remembering the blood you had to wash off of them after you had finished putting him back together. “I had both my hands inside your chest,” you repeated, trailing off into a whisper.

“You promised me,” you continued, allowing the vulnerability to become present in your voice. Your eyes were rimmed with wetness as you thought of how close to death your mate had been. “You promised you’d come back to me.”

“Technically,” Azriel started, reaching a scarred hand up to brush a piece of hair out of your face. He cupped your cheek and pulled your gaze away from your hands and back to his eyes. The mountains and valleys of his scarred skin felt comforting and familiar. “Technically, I kept my promise. There were just a few bumps along the way.”

You blinked, letting out a weak laugh and let the tears flow over. You leaned your forehead to his and closed your eyes, inhaling his familiar scent. Opening your side of the bond, you felt a wave of emotions wash over you from him. Love and appreciation filled your soul, spreading from the center of your chest where the golden thread that connected the two of you were joined. 

 “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

“I’m sorry, love,” Azriel said, lacing his fingers through your hair and holding you to him. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

For a few moments, the two of you stayed like that, soaking in the rare time alone together. It wasn’t until he shifted in the bed again that you pulled back, wiping your tears and getting up to check on how he was healing. 

“Oh gods,” Azriel groaned. “I feel like the morning after Cassian’s birthday at Rita’s.”

You let out a laugh, still choked with leftover tears, but felt yourself send a jolt of amusement through the bond unintentionally. 

“Hey! That’s my birthday too, you know,” you joked, unwrapping the splint that held his leg tightly in place. His fae healing truly was remarkable. You were able to bend his leg up to his chest, still being careful of the damaged lung and healing stitches underneath the dressing wrapped around his torso. 

“Yeah but you’re not the one insisting I keep drinking.” He grunted through the stretches, allowing you to rotate his hip out, around, and back a few times. 

You shrugged, a smile spreading across your face. “No one ever said you had to drink them. You could just dump them and tell Cassian they were delicious.”

His eyes narrowed at the suggestion. “And is that what you do? Because I seem to remember that for the past few centuries, you've been roaring drunk on your birthday. Last year you refused to come home with me because you thought I was a random stranger trying to pick you up for a one-night-stand.”

You threw your head back in a boisterous laugh, remembering how you woke up with a horrible hangover and found Azriel asleep on the floor at the foot of the bed. A smile spread across your mate’s face at the sight of your joy, despite your fingers massaging deep into the tissues of his leg to work out any lingering pain. 

You worked your thumbs into the muscles of his thigh and swore the moan of relief that left Azriel’s lips stirred something deep in your belly. You shook the feeling off and kept going. 

“Should I mention some of the times you’ve drank too much? How about that time Rhys kept buying you shots and you kissed me in front of all of Rita’s, almost blowing our secret of nearly 300 years?”

Azriel smiled and you felt the memory wash across the bond. The vision of you giving into the kiss before hastily reminding yourself that your match was supposed to be a secret, played in your mind. Thankfully Cassian, the only other person besides you and Azriel that knew about the mating bond, faked the possessive brother act, pushing Azriel off of you and dragging him outside where, instead of telling him off like everyone thought, had actually dunked his head in the icy barrel of rainwater to help him work off the alcohol. 

You gasped in surprise and shook your head to clear your mind of Azriel’s memory. “You never told me he dunked you underwater. No wonder why you came back soaking wet. Cassian said you fell face first into the Sidra!”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “Of course he did, that bastard.” 

After a quick peek at the stitches along his left flank and a thorough stretching of his right shoulder, you flopped yourself onto the bed beside him. Exhaustion washed over you again and you felt Azriel’s concern flood your senses. You ignored it, instead choosing to wrap a blanket around yourself and close your eyes. Shuffling closer to your mate, you came as close as you dared without worrying about hurting him. 

You felt a scarred hand thread through your hair to scratch at your scalp. A pair of lips touched your forehead and your mate’s voice sounded deep in your ears. “Sleep, love. I’ll be right here.”

Without another word, you fell headfirst into a deep, undisturbed sleep.  

[taeyongdoyoung]

end of beginning

summary: your perfectionist self can't settle and wants to improve your grades. no matter the cost... pairing: johnny x reader genre: smut warnings: professor/student dynamic, age gap (unspecified), dubcon, power play, neck-kissing, biting, spanking, fingering, slight dumbification, size kink (duh), unprotected sex, creampie, forbidden relationship, pet names (angel, baby, sweetheart) word count: 1.5k

You have never felt so foolish as you do now, standing outside of your professor’s cabinet, waiting for his office hours to start. This isn’t like you at all. You are usually at the top of each class, amazing students and teachers alike with your well-written assignments and outstanding participation in the discussions. You are usually the one that professors praise.

To say you feel embarrassed would be an understatement. You are not used to this, asking for help, admitting that you are falling behind, that your grades have never been worse. But if you want to graduate successfully, you have to swallow your pride and face the problem head on.

You don’t know what it is about Professor Suh’s lectures but you just can’t seem to focus. You try to take detailed notes as you do in your other classes, but you end up getting so lost in his beautiful voice, staring at his pretty face and thinking about his big hands as they flick through the pages that your notes end up being messy, incoherent and awfully inaccurate.

You have tried different strategies such as asking other students for their notes but nothing seems to work. So, in your desperation, you end up here, waiting for Professor Suh to put you out of your misery. You hope that no one else shows up during office hours ‘cause it would be too mortifying if other students find out and start making fun of you for being so behind on the material.

“Oh, Y/N!” Professor Suh exclaims in surprise as he unlocks the door to his cabinet, letting you in. “How long have you been waiting? Usually no one comes to these office hours so I’m a bit late. You should have emailed me.”

You stand nervously, your fingers digging into the tender skin of your already sweaty palms.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…” you start to explain.

“No, you don’t have to apologize, it’s just unusual. Take a seat, make yourself comfortable,” he tries to reassure you in his calming voice.

You take off your bag, putting it on the ground and sit in the chair against his. God, you feel so stupid…

“So, what brings you here?” Professor Suh asks.

“You’ve probably noticed but my grades have been plummeting,” you murmur awkwardly.

“Well, if that’s what you call a couple of B’s, then sure, I guess,” he laughs softly.

“You don’t understand…I know other students may be happy with such grades but this is unusual for me.”

Professor Suh looks at you over his glasses in disbelief.

“You do realize that in real life nobody cares about grades, yes?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry I’ve wasted your time,” you reach to grab your bag but he stops you.

“I didn’t say that I wasn’t going to help you.”

You exhale in relief.

“What is troubling you the most? Is it the material?”

“I don’t know…It doesn’t make sense because I love literature, it’s always come easy to me. I just have a hard time focusing during your lectures, for some reason.”

“Must be my fault, then,” Professor Suh smiles knowingly. “My teaching method isn’t engaging enough.”

“N-no, that’s not what I m-meant,” you stammer nervously. “I’m just…easily distracted, I guess.”

“Oh? Are you like that in your other classes, as well?”

“Not really, no,” you admit, feeling even more embarrassed.

“See? Then I guess I need to improve. Find a way to help you focus,” Professor Suh insists.

“Please help me. I really don’t want to fail your class, it’s very important to me.”

“Is it important to you because you care about your grades or because you don’t want to let me down?” Professor Suh asks staring into your eyes.

The question is so direct that it takes you off guard. You want to look away but you are so captivated you don’t dare to blink.

“I…don’t want to disappoint you, Professor Suh,” you confess. “Your lectures are very engaging and I enjoy listening to them.”

“Do you enjoy the content or the sound of my voice?”

“Professor…” you break eye contact and you are far too gone to think clearly. What is this man doing to you?

Suddenly, he stands up in all his glory, walks to your chair and lifts your chin up with his finger.

“Answer the question.”

“What…what was the question again?” you ask dumbly.

He shakes his head in disapproval.

“Just as I feared. Helping you focus would be quite difficult.”

“I’m s-sorry, I’ll try harder.”

“You better.”

Grabbing a book from his desk, he opens it and puts it in front of you.

“Read. Out loud. Don’t stop unless I tell you to, understood?”

You nod eagerly and start reading.

“We like to think of the old-fashioned American classics as children’s books. Just childishness, on our part.”

Professor Suh starts playing with your hair gently, surprising you but you don’t dare to stop and continue reading to the best of your abilities.

“The world fears the new experience more than it fears anything.”

He is kissing your neck, biting even, eliciting soft moans out of you. How is that going to help you focus?! You feel like your brain is no longer working.

“Keep reading,” he reminds you.

“Cutting away the old emotions and consciousness. Don’t ask what is left.”

Professor Suh makes you stand up and then pushes you down abruptly so that your breasts and tummy are lying on the desk and your ass is up in the air.

“And you can please yourself, when you read the Scarlet Letter, whether you accept what that sugary, blue-eyed little darling of a Hawthorne has to say for himself-” you continue to read, voice shaky and lacking any confidence.

He lifts your skirt up, touching you in all the right places in all the wrong ways. You are so terrified of what is happening but you are even more terrified of stopping to read.

Professor Suh spanks your ass harshly the second you pause briefly.

“N-no, it h-hurts,” you cry out.

“Read,” he orders you and you have no choice but to obey.

“They didn’t come for freedom. Or if they did, they sadly went back on themselves.”

Professor Suh takes your panties off and slides his fingers inside your pussy easily, as you are embarrassingly wet. He assaults you vigorously, expecting you to keep reading.

“They came largerly to get away. In the long run, away from themselves.”

“You skipped a few sentences.”

Damnit, how did he catch that?

You go back to the parts you missed but your reading continues to be full of mistakes. Eventually, Professor Suh grows tired of that and takes the book away from you.

“I’m not sure this method is helpful,” he sighs and starts unbuckling his belt. “Might have to find another way for you to acquire knowledge.”

“S-sir?” your voice trembles, though you already anticipate what is coming.

“Stuff you full of it,” he explains calmly and enters you from behind.

You want to scream but you are so afraid of someone hearing that you bite your hand.

Professor Suh seems to notice your concerns, moves your hand away and presses his own against your mouth.

“Shhh, it’s okay, angel, I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispers gently while doing the opposite of what he’s saying.

He is so big that you feel as if he’s splitting you in half. Miraculously, you are still alive.

“You’re not good at focusing in my lectures anyway so I might as well give you something to remember during them,” he laughs. Oh, he’s so mean. You deserve it, though. For being so greedy. Not satisfied with a B. Stupid girl.

He removes his hand from your lips, trusting you not to make any loud noises.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Why ask now? He’s already gone this far…

“N-no, p-please,” you whimper helplessly.

“No as in stop or no as in keep going?”

You genuinely don’t know what the right answer is. If this is a test, then you’re surely failing.

Apparently, Professor Suh does not care what you have to say. Perhaps it’s your fault for being so slow…He keeps fucking you, going deeper inside of you than any man has ever been. Soon enough, he paints your walls white as if he’s an artist and not a literature professor.

You feel so dizzy, so brainless, so silly.

“Are you alive?” he asks, scooping you up into his big arms.

“N-no?” your response comes out with a questioning tone.

“Take all the time you need to recover,” he tells you thoughtfully.

“Can I ask you something, Professor Suh?”

“You should call me Johnny when we’re alone.”

“Oh, um…Johnny, what if someone had walked in?” you ask fearfully.

“Relax, sweetheart, I locked the door,” he laughs gently.

“Ah, that’s good.”

“Anything else you’re worried about?” Johnny plays with your breasts lazily as you sit in his lap.

“Um, yeah…”

“I’ll write you all A’s from now on if that’s what…”

“I don’t care about that anymore,” you confess teary-eyed. “Was this a one time thing for you, Johnny? Will I have to pretend nothing happened during your lectures?”

He caresses your hair just like how he did when this all started. For some reason, it doesn’t feel like the end.

“Oh, baby, this is just the beginning.”

The End

[naamahdarling]

Maybe it isn't that I actually hate medical professionals? They just suck and are weird sometimes, and a lot of them shouldn't be practicing, but I don't hate them as a group, like, personally.

What I hate is their ability to make my life harder in ways that are often completely opaque to me, and a lot of the crap things they do are not really possible to challenge. And I hate the fact that holding them responsible fort dogshit behavior in any way that will actually benefit me is almost always impossible.

And I also hate the fact that they have to do stupid things sometimes because that's how the system is set up, and those things sometimes mean patients actually get harmed. They aren't fond of that part either! They don't want the system to be the way it is! But they don't have a choice, so sometimes people like me get forced by bureaucracy into doing things that are re-traumatizing. And I can't imagine that feels good for them at all, knowing that their patients are sometimes only "consenting" because that bureaucracy will not let them be helped in any other way. Which isn't consent at all. I imagine that must be pretty traumatizing for them, too, sometimes.

If it were easier to actually access medical care without tremendous delays in this country right now I would have much less trouble finding providers who are good at what they do and are not horrible people, and who have clinic staff who can do their fucking job.

Oh and I also don't appreciate how evasive and unwilling to commit they are out of fear of being held to an answer that turns out to be inaccurate, but I can't make an informed decision about my own care unless they give me at least some information about probabilities and trajectories and typicalities. Genuinely, how the fuck am I supposed to navigate that shit. I get that some patients are really fucking difficult, but I should be able to get a special stamp on my file or something that says I understand that sometimes medicine isn't an exact science and the best answers that my doctors can give may not always prove to be accurate in the long term. I know they don't like being in that situation either.

A lot of medical professionals are fucking assholes, and unfortunately the ones who are not are still hamstrung by a system set up to actively prevent people from getting care.

I miss my old doctor. He gave no shits about anything that wasn't the patient. He prescribed scheduled meds based on what the patient needed and not based on fear of consequences potentially being imposed on him by the punitive patient-hostile drugs-are-bad moral panic machine developed to force suffering people into buying more dangerous drugs off the street in order to prevent far fewer people from maybe getting high off of drugs that at least weren't laced with lethal substances. (The purpose of a system is what it does.) Did he get sanctioned and become locally unhireable? Unfortunately yes he did. Does he now provide concierge care to rich people? Yes he does. He found a way to make it work, God bless him.

Everything about the medical system in this country is fucked. Hospitals, doctors, nurses, pharmacies, pharmacists, pharmacy techs, phlebotomists, clinic administrative staff, insurance companies, medical schools and schooling, licensing boards, drug advertising to both providers and patients, pharmaceutical reps, researchers, research, publishing, medical trials, pharmaceutical companies, manufacturers and distributors, medical equipment, charting software, billing and billing codes, diagnostic criteria, charity and low income services, accessible transportation, home care, the lack of independent individual patient advocates, dietitians and nutritionists, access to physical and occupational therapy and physical and occupational therapists, the massive bigotry of every kind rampant in every corner of the medical field, social work, senior care and assisted living, deprioritization of informed consent and harm reduction, disability applications, inaccessibility of medical records, especially psychiatric notes which are specifically allowed to be withheld from patients, lack of continuity of care for disadvantaged people, care that is equitably accessible to disabled people, telemedicine, patient portals, phone systems, clinic hours, every single aspect of inpatient and outpatient psychiatry, facility security, all sorts of things going on with therapists who are nevertheless probably the least malicious group of people in this entire charade, aaaaaand patients themselves.

Also hospital toilets that are too tall and make it literally physically impossible for me to poop while I'm there waiting for somebody to come out of surgery. I just needed to take a crap, guys. You didn't need to make the toilets so tall that my feet didn't even touch the floor. It is very clean but there is no shitting for short people at St Francis.

[pawl3ss]

I came here to be a hater and hate on the minecraft movie trailer.

Get ready because this is probably the longest and the most autistic post ive made so far

I wont talk about the weird cgi and how unprofessional it looks but about how inaccurate the trailer is because it pisses me off and I have to be a nerd about it <3

ALSO IM NOT SURE IF TUMBLR WILL LET ME POST ALL OF THIS IN ONE POST so if it doesnt ill reblog with the rest <:3

first of all, those are NOT minecraft mountains.

Yes such seeds exist and you can find smt like that super easily in the game but it does NOT look so blocky

It should be a bit more smooth like here ⬆️

Next, what the fuck happened to the flowers.

Alot of the plants, trees, etc look like a disrespectful rip off of minecraft

Talking about plants, the trees are a big wtf

On the first pic you can see the log is SO THIN. LIKE THINNER THAN A TOOTHPICK. In the second you can see it is thicker, but because the block that fell out is so Itty bitty, you have to make the tree thinner.

The tree is as wide as the players, and when the block falls out its bigger than whatever the fuck this is. Yes I understand they have to carry the blocks and they can't make it too big, but you know what's a good solution? - make the blocks bigger when they fall out, but make them shrink when they get close/get put into a chest or inventory. SO EASY

Also I know you can find pink sheep naturally in the game, but oh come on.

You want to show how sPeCiAl the characters are and that they're sOoOoOo special they found a pink sheep on their spawn but oh my God you could have just let it be a normal sheep.

We stay with animals, and WHAT HAPPENED TO THE POOR WOLF. THE SNATCHED WAIST???? WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM ☹️

and why is the creeper so, fluffy. Creepers are NOT made out of fur they are made of what alot of minecraft players suspect rotten skin like zombies or a skin-alike material, but it is NOT fur.

Also, *wrong buzzer sound* llamas don’t just spawn naturally. Unless theres a wandering trader (or however theyre called in english) they aren’t able to spawn just like that. They also usually have the carpet on their back.

EDIT: TURNS OUT THEY DO SPAWN NATURALLY IN MOUNTAIN BIOMES. still the Llama being here looks like they just put her there to try and "be funny" ykwim?

I also wanted to also say, this one character I feel that they're gonna be the most stereotypical, annoying one out of the whole movie and my ears hurt just looking at them

I wanted to say that the portal shouldn't be blue but like. Only the nether portal is purple, it's unknown how other portals look so... yeah

But still wtf is this cube??? What's the fuck are you holding young man???

Also, talking about mobs, piglins dont look like that, they dont have red light in their eyes, they dont have those drum-things because THEY DONT EVEN EXIST IN MINECRAFT which i will get to latur. They aren’t able to build like that, they aren’t able to get wood for trapdoors and for the fences and iron for the chains. Also they do not even know how to craft, they probably domt even know what a crafting table is. And ghasts also aren’t able to be in the overworld. I understand that theyre invading the land ans taking over but still Like Cmon >:(

I also wanted to say that this is not how nether looks but like. It does a bit, like where the piglins usually spawn ykwim? so ill give them that, the nether looks alr

Anyway TALKING ABOUT THINGS THAT DONT EXIST IN MINECRAFT: whatever this is, it isnt craftable in minecraft, unless there are mods installed. But the „mods” excuse can be used for everything in this post. It was the first thing i saw that pissed me off so badly that i had to make this post because like JUST USE ALL THE STUFF THAT THE ORIGINAL FRANCHISE HAS TO OFFER! NORMAL BUCKETS WOULD PROBABLY WORK JUST FINE!

Last but not least, if you think those two are the same character ive got some bad news for you buddy.

At least dye his beard brown. At least get the colours right. Please.

I think i mentioned everything i wanted. Lets hope the movie will get fixed or will turn out to be at least a bit better.

Thank you for letting me get nerdy about it <3

[cartierre]

TENNIS COURT | fv

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU frederik vesti x fem!tennis player!reader (fc: emma raducanu)

side note: i've come back from my hibernation side note pt2: i have zero knowledge on tennis. all of this is probably so inaccurate but we're just going to roll with it, alright?

♡ liked by frederikvestiofficial, serenawilliams and 64,938 others

yourusername feels good to be back 🎾 pulled a muscle a few weeks ago, thankfully it wasn't all too serious and i was able to return this week! let's train hard to achieve nice things in the future! 💪🏼

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user1 so glad recovery went well!

user2 you've inspired me to always do give it my all on the tennis court, so happy you're back again! comment liked by yourusername

frederikvestiofficial finally i can return to my true calling: a wag ⤷ yourusername fear no more, your dreams are becoming true ⤷ user3 they're so alex and lily coded

user4 hopefully we'll be able to see you in wimbledon this year!

user5 it's giving "we'll boune back stronger next race" HAHAHA

♡ liked by yourusername, frederikvestiofficial and 33,874 others

tagged: yourusername

elleuk British tennis hope Y/N Y/L/N poses in this months issue with fashion ambassadorships for tiffanyandco and dior !

yourusername is returning to the tennis court after minor health issues and has been climbing the ladder to success steadily ever since! she's a strong contender for the champion title at wimbledon this year.

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user6 y/n is so incredibly gorgeous oh my god

user7 "british tennis hope" LET'S SAY IT LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK

yourusername had so much fun during the photoshoot! can't wait to see the other pictures as well! comment liked by elleuk

user8 i've never bought a fashion magazine, but i will be running to the next supermarket for this one!

user9 i am so in love with her it's not healthy ⤷ user10 fred better sleeps with one eye open

♡ liked by 273,283 people

tagged: charles_leclerc, pierregasly, carmenmundt, georgerussell63, danielricciardo

formulaupdates some f1 drivers attending the finals of the ladies' single in wimbledon this year! f2 driver frederik vesti's girlfriend, y/n y/l/n, is fighting against title defender jelena rybakina.

view all 1,239 comments

user11 i'm sure they're not just there because y/n's fred's girlfriend but it's so adorable that they're showing such a support

user12 the way everyone looks so serious and then there's george being all 🙂

user13 i don't know anything about tennis and yet here i am watching for y/n ⤷ user14 literally same, i'm sitting on the edge of my seat as well

user15 i just know fred is somewhere on the sidelines absolutely nervous

♡ liked by yourusername, frederikvesti, cocogauff and 574,847 others

tagged: yourusername

wimbledon The nation's tennis queen 👑

yourusername is your Ladies' Single champion 2023 🏆

#Wimbledon

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user16 SHE DID IT OMG

user17 britain might've lost their actual queen but do not worry y/n stepped up ⤷ user18 thanks to her, britain is able to play chess again: they have a queen again

user19 I AM SO PROUD OF MY BABYGIRL

user20 one of the most interesting matches to watch. y/n won fair and square, a great win! she made england in the midst of london proud!

♡ liked by frederikvestiofficial, mickschumacher, venuswilliams and 71,293 others

tagged: frederikvestiofficial

yourusername deserved summer break 🌊

view all 738 comments

user21 fred needs to win the f2 drivers championship and they'd literally be the most unstoppable couple

user22 they're so boyfriend and girlfriend i cannot ⤷ user23 they're each other's wag

frederikvestiofficial i don't want summer to end ⤷ yourusername italy's been too good to us

user24 i don't know if i want to be with y/n or be y/n

user25 i can't wait to see y/n back on the paddock again!

[obsolescent]

bad idea right?

Pairing: Fuckboy!Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

Author’s Note: This wouldn’t leave my head until I got it out!! Giggling, kicking my feet writing this up. I don’t know if I made him fuckboy-ish enough but, lol. This got really nasty then really sappy. Enjoy!

Song: bad idea right? By Olivia Rodrigo

Content Warnings: Explicit sexual content, oral sex, squirting, Leon’s cocky ass mouth, trans Leon, no gendered language for reader, edging, orgasm denial, confessed feelings.

Words: 3,258

“Haven't heard from you in a couple of months But I'm out right now, and I'm all fucked up And you're callin' my phone, you're all alone And I'm sensin' some undertone”

Getting trashed with your friends has become a weekly occurrence, going out bar hopping and dancing the night away. It’s the usual Friday night, taking shots in between your horribly inaccurate throws at the dartboard with your darts, sending you and your friends into a laughing fit. After finishing your turn, you ungracefully plop down onto a bar stool, pulling out your phone.

The screen lights up and you’re met with a missed call from your ex, Leon. ‘What does he want?’ Seeing a voicemail was left, you stand up and let your friends know you’re stepping outside for some air. Opening the back door into an alley, the brisk autumn air sending a chill through your body. Clicking on the voicemail, you let it play.

There’s some rustling on his end of the line, “Hey,” He starts, slurring his greeting, “What’re you up to tonight? Settled into my new place…Not too far from those bars you and your friends go to,” He knows? Like he can hear your thoughts, he lets out an airy chuckle, “Come over…Been thinkin’ ‘bout you...Missin’ you. Sent the address.” The recording ends there. Obviously drunk himself, yet that huskiness of his voice that always sent tingles through your being is present. He knows what it does to you, even after everything.

“And I'm right here with all my friends But you're sendin' me your new address And I know we're done, I know we're through But, God, when I look at you”

You bite your lip, contemplating. The way things ended between you two wasn’t that bad…He’s just an asshole! His antics drove you up the wall. The shit he would get into with his friends, that damn mouth on him. But, oh, he was so sweet when he wasn’t being a little shit. Crinkling his beautiful blues, cocking his head, that grin. Whispering the sweetest words in your ear, syrup dripping from his lips. Coating your senses and setting your body aflame.

The way he could work your body…Fuck. You don’t think you’ll ever find someone as good as him. The past couple months have been achingly empty for you, in so many ways. Your body yearning for his touch, it begging, one more time, please just one more. Your teeth bite into your fist, trying to rein in your hormones and your thoughts. You know it’s a losing battle, especially with your inebriated mind. 

“My brain goes, "Ah" Can't hear my thoughts (I cannot hear my thoughts) Like blah-blah-blah (blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah) Should probably not I should probably, probably not I should probably, probably not”

Feeling fuzzy, your body warming up at the thought of his hands on you again. ‘He invited you! He wanted to show you his new place, you can’t be rude and turn that down. It’ll be okay, come on! You can just be friends now, there’s no harm in that.’ Your brain jumps through hoops trying to sway your answer. 

“Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right? Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right? Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right? Seein' you tonight, fuck it, it's fine”

You take a deep breath and walk back inside. Your friends are sitting at a table now, munching on appetizers and sipping away. You tell them you aren’t feeling good, that you’re going to go home and go to bed. Wishing you well and to be safe, their sentences blending together. You take your leave and head to the front, pulling out your phone to get a ride to Leon’s new place. It doesn’t take long for the car to show up, and once inside the car pulls away from the sidewalk, heading to your undoing. 

“Now I'm gettin' in the car, wreckin' all my plans I know I should stop–but I can't And I told my friends I was asleep But I never said where or in whose sheets”

You don’t let him know you’re coming, in case you change your mind. ‘You won’t,’ Your mind hisses, ‘You need this too bad. It’ll be this one time and you can get it, and him, out of your system,’ Your mind is still persuading you, even as the buildings fly past and the streetlights blur across the window, ever getting closer to him.

The car reaches its destination, you thank the driver and step out to an apartment complex. Taking the stairs instead of the elevator, you give yourself a once over while you make your trek to the second floor. Taking the smallest steps, you finally make it to his door. Deep breath in, exhale, you knock.

“And I pull up to your place, on the second floor And you're standin', smiling at the door And I'm sure I've seen much hotter men But I really can't remember when”

Faint shuffling is heard before the door is opened, and there he is. Propped against the frame, taking up the majority of the space with his broadness. Shirtless, with gray sweats that hang dangerously low on his hips, that crooked smirk is plastered on his face. It soon turns into a grin as his eyes make his way up your body, flushing your entire system with want.

He sighs, cocking his head. His blond fringe falls away from his face. “Knew you’d come.” He steps aside and ushers you in, locking the door behind you while you remove your shoes and put down your belongings. The new place is quite nice, Leon having already unpacked everything, the kitchen and living room looking immaculate. The thing about Leon, is that he may seem like a douche on the outside, acting like he doesn’t care about anything, but he’s quite the perfectionist. What you lo–liked about him, how meticulous he was about things, small stuff that you didn’t think he’d notice.

Which makes it all the more frustrating for you. His outwardly behavior doesn’t make–You snap back from your thoughts when you feel him brush against you from behind, his body’s warmth seeping into your system. “Like it so far?” He whispers, bending down to your ear, his breath disturbing pieces of your hair. This close, he smells faintly of vodka and his signature scent, the fragrance washing over your senses. God, you missed him. 

“My brain goes, "Ah" Can't hear my thoughts (I cannot hear my thoughts) Like blah-blah-blah (blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah) Should probably not I should probably, probably not I should probably, probably not”

“Yeah, i-it looks great. You’ve always had an eye for decor,” You get out, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. He hums, placing his hands on either of your upper arms. His fingers gripping softly, skin tingling around his palms. “Thanks. Let me give you a tour, yeah? You haven’t seen the best part yet,” He chuckles and steers you into the living room, seeming like he’s actually going to take you throughout the place.

He directs you to stand in front of the couch.

It’s the same one he had at his old apartment. A black leather sofa with solid wood legs, the contrasting colors make it pop. It had always been pretty comfortable, you could see why he wouldn’t get rid of it. “Remember this couch?” He asks, lightly squeezing your arms. You hum and nod, not sure where he’s going with this. He leans down, grazing his lips against the shell of your ear. You can hear the grin in his words  as he says, “Remember when I made you squirt so much that it was dripping off the sides?” 

The fire that erupts in your body scorches throughout. Like he flipped a switch with his words, your nipples harden, feeling wetness run out of you. You make a noise in the back of your throat while he moves his hands from your arms. One lowering to grip your waist, the other moving higher, to your throat. A firm hold, he adds no pressure. It sits there, possessively. 

He guides your head back, tilting it so you can meet his eyes. Cerulean half-lidded, grin still spread across his face with satisfaction at your body’s response. Tipping his head forward, lips brushing. “You’ve needed me so bad, huh? Must’ve been so hard these past couple months without me fucking you.” You whimper, eyes fluttering closed. He tightens his grip on your throat. 

“Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right? Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right? Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right? Seein' you tonight, fuck it, it's fine”

“Look at me,” He commands, your eyes once again trained on his face. “So good, you could always follow directions so well.” “Please,” You plead, beginning to tremble. “Oh? Something you want? You know how to ask, or is that brain of yours already turned to mush?” He’s taunting you, you don’t even fucking care. “N-need you to touch me, so bad,” You whisper, lips parted. You lean up on your tiptoes to try to close the distance between your lips, but he pulls away.

He tuts, “Why don’t we start with you getting on your knees for me, then I’ll think about touching you, hm?” He pats your cheek with his hand. You turn towards him and immediately sink to the floor, knees hitting the rug a bit too fast, causing a bit of burn. Ignoring it to grab at his sweats, you begin pulling them down. “Goddamn, baby. If I knew you would get on your knees this quick, I would’ve called sooner.” Ignoring him, you work on his briefs next, joining the pants around his ankles.

Fully exposed to you, your eyes rake up his sculpted physique. Having looked like he was carved out of marble, freckles and moles scattered about his body, his chest scars faintly contrasting with his skin. “Admiring the view? Me too,” He props his hands on his hips, smirking down at you. You think if you rolled your eyes any harder they’d pop out of their sockets.

You look up at him, a smirk pulling at your features. He narrows his eyes. “What’s that look ab–oh fuck!” He yells out, hands shooting from his hips to entangle in your hair, having latched your mouth to his T-cock without warning. It jumps in your mouth and you quickly set to work on sucking, moving your head back and forth, hands gripping his thighs.

You set a ruinous pace, giving him a taste of his own medicine. You glance up to see his head thrown back and eyes closed, biting his lip to unsuccessfully stifle his whines. Your hand trails up closer to his cunt, fingers dipping into the wetness that’s accumulated. You slide one inside easily, immediately curling it and setting its pace to match your mouth.

He gasps out, body hunched over yours now, the grip he has on your hair tightens, a slight sting to it. “Ugh, God, baby don’t stop it feels so good, uh, yeah, you make me feel so fucking good,” That mouth of his never knows when to shut up, especially during sex. His babbles continue, his hips now meeting your mouth, thrusting into your warmth. You glide your tongue over his hardened clit, nose bumping into it while dipping down into his hole, tasting more of him. You love the way he tastes, eyes falling shut, savoring.

Leon’s body begins to tremble, a sign that he’s close. You latch your mouth back into place over his growth while you slide another finger inside, ramping up the pace. “FUCK, God! Don’t stop, I’m so goddamn close, baby. Feels so good, make me feel so good, love that fucking mouth,” continuous stream of words pouring from his mouth now, making you dizzy from the praise.

Feeling his beginning release splashing against you, you move your hand up to his lower abdomen and press down. Cock pulsing in your mouth while he squirts, soaking you and your clothes. They’ll surely be a noise complaint from the scream he produced as he hit his peak. You remove your mouth from him with a pop and lean back, loving the fucked out expression his face. 

“God. I needed that,” He murmurs, his hands now soothingly running through your hair. You hum, reaching to peel off your ruined clothing. “That’s a good look for you, babe.” It never stops with him. Shooting him a glare, you stand up and pull your bottoms down, stepping out of them. You pull your shirt off next, throwing it against his chest. It meets skin with a satisfying splat. “Ugh, why’d you do that for?” He grumbles, tossing it to the ground. 

“You and that goddamn mouth,” You spat, shoving your underwear down to your feet. “Whatever, you fucking love it.” He says, watching your movements with a starved look. Now fully naked, you turn toward him and catch his stare. You grin, “Admiring the view?” You repeat his own words to him, his eyes darting up to catch your amused look. Without answering, he stalks forward and you’re suddenly lifted into the air, a squeal leaving your throat.

Wrapping your legs around his waist to anchor yourself, latching your arms around his neck, he carries you into his bedroom. Tossing you onto the bed with an ‘oof’ leaving you, he opens his night stand and sets a few items to the side. “I’ve been thinking,” He starts, coming back to you and grabbing the back of your knees, pulling your legs apart. “About this since you walked out of my door two months ago. Been craving your pussy like a fucking drug.” He sinks to his knees. 

“Yes, I know that he's my ex, but can't two people reconnect? "I only see him as a friend," the biggest lie I ever said Oh, yes, I know that he's my ex, but can't two people reconnect? I only see him as a friend, I just tripped and fell into his bed”

“Now, you’re going to keep those legs spread for me while I eat you out, and you ain’t cumming until I tell you to.” He spits on your cunt. He watches it drip down your clit, jumping at the contact, swollen from arousal. “Fuck, no, come on Leon,” You beg, propping yourself up on your elbows to look down at him. You open your mouth to plead some more when he lunges forward and licks a trail up from your hole to then suck your clit into his mouth. 

You gasp, falling back against the sheets and he takes his fill, the noises of your wet pussy filling the empty space. You whimper, holding yourself back, but his fucking mouth. On a particular hard suck, your body spasms and you squirt, wetting Leon’s chin. He pulls away, narrowing his eyes. “What did I tell you?” He asks, pushing two fingers into your trembling hole. “I-I didn’t–fuck–cum!” You gasp out, his finger unrelenting. “No squirting either, or can you not follow directions, huh?” He goads. You huff, letting your head fall back to the bed once more. “Can’t help that it f-feels so good–ah–” Your back arches when he hits a particular spot inside you. 

This isn’t what you were expecting from Leon’s call, thinking it would be a quickie, it soon evolving into what seems like an all night fuck session. You would have those every once in a while, his stamina seemingly lasting for hours. You were not prepared for it, but you’re not complaining, either.

His mouth returns to you, lapping up your juices, slurping as he goes. You groan at the sensation, gripping the sheets. “Favorite fucking meal,” His babbling coming back, pussy drunk. You tense up, fighting off the waves of pleasure and bite your lip, taking deep breaths. He must notice, as he pulls up for a breath he asks, “Aw, poor thing. Bet you’re wanting to just gush on my face, huh?” You whimper, “Leon, please. I’ve been so good, let me cum,” You’re close to tears, willing to tell him anything if he allows you to finish.

He hums, contemplating, rubbing his thumb against your clit, it throbbing against his finger. “Tell me how much you missed me, how badly you needed me these past couple months.” You tense, your brain in a frenzy trying to form a sentence. You did miss him. Missed his cocky smile, his corny jokes and his softer side he showed only to you. Your brain conjured up something you didn’t proofread before it left your mouth, saying, “I love you.”

Leon stills. His movements paused over your overly sensitive area, watching your face. “You…What?” Unbeknownst to you, his widened eyes shimmering with emotion, you hastily try to backtrack. “I-I didn’t mean to say that, not what I meant to say,” You get out, pulling yourself up on your elbows. “I didn’t mean to make this awkward, I’m sorry, Le–AH” You yell out, your lower body getting grabbed and dragged even further off the edge of the bed, Leon starting again with renewed vigor.

“F-fuck, Leon! Oh God, I c-can’t hold back anymore, gonna cum,” You wail out, hands reaching down to pull at his silky strands. He groans against you, “Cum for me, baby, come on. Make a mess all over my fucking face,” He growls out, unrelenting. Your hips buck up to meet his suckling, fingers squelching in and out of you. Keening, you reach your orgasm. Chanting his name as you quiver against his head, your release running down his face and chest. He groans, letting you ride it out. Rutting into his mouth, his jumbled words indecipherable to your blissed out mind. 

Laying limp against the sheets, Leon finally pulls away, eyes raking over your body, taking in every detail he can. He maneuvers your body to lay your head against the pillows, climbing into bed himself. He engulfs your frame, burying his face into your neck.

“Did you mean it?” His ask is muffled by his face’s position against you. You bring your hands up, running one up and down his back while the other cards through his hair. You take a breath before responding. “Yeah, I did,” Turning your face, your confirmation whispered against his head. His grip tightens, a noise bubbling up from his throat. 

“Do you…Love me too?” You ask, the air around you two seemingly waiting with anticipation. He moves his head against you, nodding. A smile adorns your face. You kiss the top of his head, letting him continue to latch onto you. He shifts, clearing his throat and pulling the blankets over your bodies. You’re now turned away from him, with him spooning you. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulls you closer. He buries his face into your hair, “Do you, you know. Want to try again?” His voice is quiet, muffled still. 

“Yeah, I would,” You smile, squeezing one of his forearms. “Cool,” He says, his grip tightening. Emotional constipation aside, It’s moments like these where you forget why you left to begin with. These moments you cherished with Leon after being so vulnerable. The way his voice softened and became shy, how he would hold you close. Maybe, after your confession, it would change things, maybe.

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Tags: @neondogs, tagging since I finished it before I sent you the excerpt 😭

[angelicpoison12]

Hi! If you’re comfortable with this, I was wondering if you could write an Angel Dust x blind male reader oneshot. Maybe Angel is very over protective of the reader, because to him they’re fragile and he wants to make sure that they don’t get hurt. But he also feels bad that the reader can’t see what he looks like. But maybe in the end, the reader comforts him and shows that they are ok. If you’re not comfortable writing this, I completely understand ✨

absolutely!! especially since its officially Disability Pride Month, i'm more than happy to write this! also PS-i'm sorry if some of this is inaccurate :(( i tried my best to write in a blind reader's POV from what i know and have seen via blind content creators

— ✃☕︎︎ — 

being in Hell sucked, but being blind was worse.

you were thankful that Charlie had brail books available in Alastor's library, and that everyone seemed patient with your disability. you tried to avoid asking for help most of the time, even when it was very clear that you needed help with something.

one of the more sympathetic people to your situation was Angel Dust. he was often seen by your side, always there to help you. it was annoying sometimes, but it was better than being ignored you supposed. "heya toots," you heard. you squeaked, flailing around before hearing, "no, no-hey, 's okay. it's just me, Angel." you sighed a breath of relief. you were currently sitting in Alastor's library, sitting at a table, reading a brail book. your white cane was by your side by your left leg, and you were still in your pajamas. or, well whatever you considered pajamas.

"oh.. hey Angel," you responded quietly. Angel scooted a chair to the side, sitting beside you. he then asked, "you alright, toots? you aren't as bubbly as usual." he said. you grunted, feeling the soft bumps on the book against your forefinger and thumb, trying to figure out what the phrase said. "just trying to think.." you muttered. you then asked, "Angel, could i get a translation? does this say, 'bread for me', or 'dough for me'?"

Angel was quick to glance at the book, his hand on top of yours. he looked at the English writing translation and said, "it says 'bread for me' toots." "ah, okay. thanks," you continued to read quietly, and Angel observed you. he was honestly really proud of you. he didn't fully comprehend your disability, but he could imagine it fucking sucked.

"say toots, lets get outta here. you haven't ventured outside of the hotel ever since ya been here." "maybe because i can't see where i'm going twenty-four-seven?" you snapped, making Angel wince a little. you sighed and rubbed the bridge of your nose. "fuck, i'm sorry.. this is just still hard to get used to," you admitted, feeling sad. "hey, hey, it's okay, toots. you just.. you're adjusting. and its okay to get frustrated," Angel said. you felt his nose against your cheek, then his lips. you giggled-it tickled.

"lets get shopping, yeah? you need to feel more than some bumps for a little bit. whataya say, hm?" the idea made you feel a bit excited, but nervous as well. you knew Angel wouldn't allow anything bad to happen to you. "yeah.. yeah, i'd like that, Angel." you said, smiling for the first time all day. "great! want me to help ya pick out an outfit?" "nah, i've got it, but thanks."

you indeed needed help.

when you came out of your room with your handy dandy cane, Angel couldn't help but burst into laughter at your outfit. you didn't know what he was laughing about, so it made you severely confused. "oh toots, i don't mean to laugh but.. doll, you're wearin' a sweatshirt? it's summer, baby!" "so? i like the feeling of this sweater," you said defensively, but it had a playful edge to it. Angel came closer to you. he felt the fabric; it was a soft felt. "mm.. red suits ya, toots." red. so that was the color of the sweatshirt, huh?

Angel decided to take you to his favorite clothing store. thank god it wasn't a BDSM shop. he joked how that type of store would still be a fun sensory experience, but you retaliated heavily.

"how do ya like this one, toots? it's a nice pink," he said, grabbing a pink tie and showing it to you. he guided your hand to the fabric, letting you touch it. you grimaced. "ick, velvet.. nope, nope, nope... no velvet." "ya don't like velvet? why?" "it's too rough. it makes me gag," you told Angel. you rolled your cane around, feeling his leg. "is that you, Angel?" you asked. "yup, that's me, doll." "oh-i'm sorry," "you're fine, baby. don't even worry about it,"

the shopping experience was oddly fun. you found yourself feeling a ton of textures that you knew of but hadn't taken the sensory feel of them into consideration ever since being alive. you discovered that you didn't like microfiber stuff either; it made you want to grind your teeth into pebbles.

back at the hotel, you were in the library again with Angel. you were feeling your favorite shirt you had gotten from the shops. it was a black turtleneck shirt with an embroidery heart on the left breast pocket. the heart had beads and gemstones on it. you were constantly feeling over it with your thumbs, trying to figure out if you could make some sort of brail out of it.

Angel thought the sight was adorable. he asked, "can i pet ya hair, toots?" you were a little hesitant, but nodded. you hummed when his soft, gloved claws went to your hair, stroking the locks back with gentle swipes, his thumb occasionally brushing against your forehead. your eyes closed involuntarily, the darkness that clouded your vision not changing.

"Angel.. do you have multiple arms-?" you asked, feeling two arms pull you closer to him, his other hands in your hair. he nodded with a soft hum. "mhm. i'm a spider, toots. i've got six arms, actually. i just keep my third set hidden." Angel told you. you nodded slowly. you nestled your head into his neck, squeaking when you realized he was fluffy.

"Angel, you're really soft," you exclaimed gently. he smiled, guiding your hand to his chest. you squeezed, and he groaned as he chuckled, "oof, not too hard, baby. grabby little thing, ain'tcha?" he giggled, and you turned bright red, realizing what you were grabbing. "wait, if you're.. a boy, then how come you have breasts?" "well they're not necessarily tits, dollface. its my fluff. i just brush 'em up to look like tits." "oh." "god, you're adorable,"

Angel could definitely get used to this. who would've thought only being able to feel and touch would be so heavenly? maybe this wasn't so bad after all, especially if you got an excuse to snuggle up to this fluffy spider all day.

[bigskydreaming]

The Vampire Daniel Molloy, when Louis asks what he's looking forward to most about the next stage of his newly immortal life:

Hmm. With how much my maker already complains about me ruining his life and how every day I give him a new reason to regret ever siring me, if I had to pick just one thing, I'd say the thing I'm most looking forward to is when I hit vampire puberty.

Louis: ....

Daniel: Vampire puberty's when the really wild superpowers kick in, right?

Louis: I suppose technically that's not....inaccurate.

Daniel: Hey, what are the chances of me getting the 'set shit on fire with my brain' thing you've got? Can you even imagine how much that would piss him off? His disappointment of a fledgling having the same gifts as the ex who dumped his ass....oh, man. C'mon now. I bet I could do some real damage with that.

Louis: Actually, while we're near the subject: would you please stop introducing yourself as 'the reason your vampire parents got divorced?'

Daniel: No, Louis, Louis! You're not getting it, see....the thing that makes it funny is its true.

Louis: You've really decided to lean into the whole 'second childhood' angle, huh.

Daniel: Mmmm. And just think. If you'd turned me fifty years ago when I first asked, I'd be well past this stage by now. And also still twenty. And hot.

Louis: Ahh. Its like that, then, is it.

Daniel: Oh, only a little bit. Really though, its like, every day I discover a new way to make Armand rue my very existence all over again, and maybe I'm just a simple man with simple needs, because that's just....very fun for me. I mean, there's just something extra validating in knowing the guy you're all "fuck that guy, I hate him, he sucks" about hates you waaaay more than you can be bothered to hate him. Because then its like you win the feud, right? You still get to hate that guy, which is great, because fuck that guy, he sucks, but you also get to know your very existence drives him way crazier than his ever makes you, and I mean, let's be real. Who doesn't like winning things?

Louis: Well I'm so glad you've found something that gives you a sense of purpose at least. Its very -

Daniel: Yeah, yeah, immortal blood drinkers need hobbies other than mass murder, it keeps the body count low and is good for the environment. Relax. I know. I literally wrote the book on it. You were there.

Louis: That's what you got out of it?

Daniel: Why, did you want me to fixate on your sex scenes instead? That seems weird. A little narcissistic even. And at the risk of self-awareness, when I'm the one -

Louis: Right. Well. I just wanted to make sure you had something to focus your energies on. It can all be a bit overwhelming at first and with your level of public attention at the moment, its very crit -

Daniel: Nope, all good here. Got myself a steady supply of Deadbeat Dad jokes that make my maker's eye twitch - apparently base word play is "gauche" or some shit - ugh, my god, its like nothing I do is ever good enough for him, and I only ate one of the editors on my shitlist to test drive my shiny new murder skills. He had this thing about Oxford commas, used to bug the crap out of me. Its like we get it, you hate them. They're literally dots on a page, they can't hurt you, can we please move on....

Louis: ....

Daniel: Louis, I'm kidding. Look, you don't have to worry about me. I already decided I find emotional evisceration way more satisfying than the physical version. Less clean up and it lasts longer anyway. I'm not going to get myself into trouble by cosplaying as Jack the Ripper where paparazzi can catch me red-fanged, and even if I do, I hereby absolve you of all responsibility. You can stop mother-henning me, you didn't turn me, you literally said no when I begged you to, its the whole reason I have eternal wrinkles instead of youthful tautness.

Louis: Not gonna let that one go, are you.

Daniel: Gimme a few centuries and ask me again. I'll let you know then.

Louis: Mmhmm. So this was....memorable and we definitely won't be doing it again. But you do seem to have things figured out so I'll leave you to it, then.

Daniel: Wait, Louis, don't go! Don't you want to hear my five-century life plan for annoying Armand into an early retirement mausoleum? I made visual aids!

Louis: Goodbye, Daniel.

Daniel: Fine, leave then! I don't care! You're not my real dad anyway! Et cetera, et cetera!

[championari]

Alright. I said I would write this and I’m gonna stay true to my word.

I’ve been seeing a lot of takes since The Giggle has come out questioning the potency of 14’s ending. People have been citing multiple different times during the reboot era where the Doctor has “settled down” somewhere, from Darillium, the university in S10, to even Trenzalore. However, I think all of these comparisons are apples to oranges, completely missing the details of each instance and how The Giggle’s ending rebukes all of them. 

So, because I cannot leave an inaccurate take alone, I’m going through every single one of these instances and explain why 14’s ending is different from them, in chronological order.

I’m gonna start with a weird one: S7EP4, The Power of Three. Because it provides a good example of all the things we’re going to be talking about. 

Prior to this episode, long time fans already had a good idea that the Doctor…does not do well in monotonous environments, a truth that is consistent across multiple incarnations.

“I don’t do families.”

“Street corner, two in the morning, getting a taxi home. I’ve never had a life like that.”

“Here you are, Living a life, day after day. The one adventure I could never have.”

“Christmas dinner.” “I don’t do that sort of thing.”

“Oh god I had a terrible nightmare about you two!” [Talking about Amy and Rory having a normal life in Leadworth]

The entirety of The Lodger

“There’s a bigger, scarier adventure waiting for you in there.”

The Power of Three, spells this truth out in bold, montage style marker pen. The Doctor “needs to be busy”. Why, as Amy later asks?

Personally I think this answer varies slightly between regenerations, based on experiences and losses each face goes through. 9 couldn’t imagine a life of peace coming out of a war, a war that he had a major hand in. 10 continues that idea, with the added baggage of losing Rose. 11’s reasoning is a bit subtler: he says to Amy that he is running to things before they go, as if he now understands how short beautiful things last. He’s going from one thing to the next in avoidance of staying to watch things die. 

“And what’s the alternative? Me standing over your grave?”

This doesn’t change by the end of the episode. The Doctor explicitly tells the Ponds that he’s only staying to watch the cubes, and once the threat is gone, he’s already out the door. He only stops because of a potential threat, an idea we will return to in the next example. He even accepts the idea of Amy and Rory wanting to stay behind: “things to do. Worlds to save. Swings to swing on. Look, I know. You both have lives here. beautiful, messy lives. That is what makes you so fabulously human. You don’t want to give them up. I understand.” The Doctor is saying, ‘I know you have lives here, and that I can’t always be a part of that. And that’s ok.’ 

This episode in my opinion is a perfect microcosm of The Doctor regarding this topic, spelling out explicitly why The Doctor can't ever settle down. The Doctor needs to have something to run to because they don't feel secure enough in any place to not allow their altruism outweigh their need to process their trauma. The only thing that could motivate the Doctor to stop, even just for a second, is the promise that their friend(s) will be there too. The next example is the worst-case scenario of this issue.

Trenzalore is an interesting case. When I first heard of it being counted, I immediately shut it down, because Trenzalore was a literal war zone (wars are obviously not a good place for mental health time). But in doing research, there is actually way more baggage contained in this period making it unsuitable for this argument than just that fact. 

Trenzalore was set up to be the Doctor’s final resting place, where they would truly die. It wasn’t the first time a death prophecy had surrounded the Time Lord, and once again, just as with The End of Time, the thing that kills them is, what Davros would later call The Doctor's “greatest indulgence”: compassion. Tasha Leem warns 11 that she will burn the planet upon the possibility of the Time Lords returning, a warning the Doctor takes extremely seriously.

“This planet is protected.”

“Christmas has a new sheriff.”

For 300 years, 11 stayed true to his word. He fought long and hard, for the townspeople and his own. He was celebrated and was loved. But Clara returning with the TARDIS revealed how he really felt about all of it. 

“Everyone gets stuck somewhere eventually.”

“But you didn’t have your TARDIS.” “Well, that made it easier to stay.” 

There’s an unspoken sentiment in these words, echoing 11's philosophy in Power of Three: the Doctor will always want to leave, in this case, to understandably avoid his prophesied death. But he doesn’t, because “Every life I save is a victory”. Their compulsion to help, their innate capacity to help those in need. So often it’s been their greatest strength, but here it’s framed as destructive selflessness. 11 has become so wholly committed to helping others before himself that he’s willing to accept his own death. 

Clara correctly calls this out: “What about your life? Just for once, After all this time, have you not earned the right to think about that?” The Doctor didn’t stay on Trenzalore for himself, he stayed for everyone besides himself. It’s only because Clara gave the Time Lords a proper verbal smackdown that the Doctor managed to survive. Had they not intervened, The Doctor would've suffered and died, once again to protect them, despite already saving them from annihilation in the previous episode, Day of The Doctor. Trenzalore wasn't The Doctor stopping, it was a century-long effort to keep satiating the bottomless survivor's guilt they still carried from The Time War.

Darillium is yet another case of looking like a time the Doctor settled down somewhere on the surface. But the details don’t match that conclusion. The entire thesis of 12 and River’s final conversation was about the fleeting nature of their situation. 

“Times end, River, because they have to. Because there’s no such thing as happily ever after. It’s just a lie we tell ourselves because the truth is so hard.”

The Doctor says this, cries at hearing the Singing Towers, despite already knowing they have 24 years in a night. Because he knows it can’t last. There’s already a deadline on their moment of peace before it’s begun. Eventually River must go to The Library. 

The final quote of the episode punctuates this: “And they lived happily ever after.” Fading away until “happily” remains. Because they didn’t have their “ever after” and they didn’t “live”, because a person can’t entirely experience life to the fullest with a clock hanging over their head. 

While they got their moment of happiness, it was only a moment. 24 years is just a blink of an eye for a Time Lord, and sure enough, we see by the end of “The Return of Doctor Mysterio”, the next chronological episode, 12 is ready to leap back into the fray. Still the same overall Doctor he was before.

The University is an extension of this. We find out that the only reason he has stayed is to guard Missy in the vault. When 12 tries to mindwipe Bill (an eerie parallel to both Donna and Clara), he directly says: “I have no choice, I’m in disguise. I have promises to keep.” Just like with Trenzalore, The Doctor’s altruism has trapped him somewhere he doesn’t actually want to be. The second he hesitates, he immediately runs after Bill, inviting her into the TARDIS and sneaks off to the universe behind Nardole’s back.

So, now that we’ve gone through each past instance, what’s the connection? What’s the key issue(s) that prevented the Doctor from permanently stopping in any of these cases?

The (fear of) loss of their friends, and the Doctor’s own self-loathing. Either out of fear of the march of time, or the chains that their altruistic nature binds them to, The Doctor always runs away from the picket fence life.

Now, let’s look at 14 and how this ending departs from all other examples.

Wild Blue Yonder and The Giggle more prominently explains 14’s origins as a coping mechanism. The reason why 10’s face came back was to retreat to an incarnation that didn’t invoke the loss of The Ponds, Clara, and Bill. The second destruction of Gallifrey and the reveal of The Timeless Child. The Doctor’s avoidance of their trauma has now been made physical, just like how mental stress can often manifest as physical changes or ailments. 

“We stand here now, on the edge of creation, a creation that I devastated, so yes I keep running, of course I keep running!! How am I supposed to look back on that?!”

Already this is a departure from the instances we’ve discussed, because by the very nature of having 10’s face again, it’s forcing the Doctor to ask why. 

“It’s like I'm trying to tell myself something. Like I’m trying to make a point.”

But 14 chooses not to answer it, because answering it means accepting the truth: it’s too much. The trauma can’t be avoided anymore, because The Doctor would always be reminded of what they’re trying to avoid by looking in a reflection. 14 telling Shirley, “I don’t know who I am anymore.” Then asking Donna, “what am I? What am I now?” It’s not because he’s been given a blank slate and doesn’t know what to do with it, like other regeneration stories. In trying to run away again, to bury the trauma and pain, The Doctor has made it more visible than ever, and doesn’t know what to do with that. 

Ironically, the Toymaker causing the bi-generation was the greatest gift he could’ve given the Doctor, because 15 was exactly who 14 needed to see. He’s happy, energetic, full of life and wonder, but also empathetic, understanding and open. He’s the only other person in the entire universe who The Doctor will listen to (well, one person, we’ll get to the other later), because he knows all of the trauma they went through, and yet, made it through ok.

“But you’re fine.”

“I’m fine, because you fix yourself.”

15 is leading by example, their own ‘ghost of Christmas future’ but positive. 14 now has an ideal self to strive towards, a face born from love and empathy. 14 doesn’t have to ground herself out of moral obligation, 15 will now protect the universe. 

But that leaves one question: why Donna? Out of all of the people to settle down with, why her? That’s easy: because she gets it. 

Donna, out of all of the companions the Doctor traveled with, understood the soul behind the legend, because she recognized someone fundamentally similar to herself. One of Donna’s signature character flaws is her horrendously low self esteem: “I’m nothing special.” no one ever listened to her (thanks Sylvia, for at least cleaning up your act later), so she covered up the silence with noise. She held onto whatever indisputable moments of genius she had to drown out the cacophony of voices shutting her up. Wild Blue Yonder explained this perfectly: Donna believes she is both brilliant and stupid at the same time. 

She lives in two contradictory self images at once, and so does The Doctor. The genius and the idiot. The universe’s most fascinating person, and the person who would easily throw away their life for the betterment of others. She’s seen their blinding arrogance/rage (the Racnoss, Jenny) and their crippling self doubt/loneliness, and always met both with empathy and kindness. 

“Doctor! You can stop now!”

“Cause sometimes I think you need someone to stop you.” 

“It won’t stay like that. She’ll help you. We both will.” 

“Is ‘alright’ special Time Lord code for ‘really not alright’ at all?” “Why?” “Cause I’m alright too.”

Donna shouldered the burden of destroying Pompeii, she silently hugged 10 after coming back from Midnight. All because she knew what all of that would feel like in her own life. She didn’t need to know the history of The Doctor and Davros, because she saw her best friend afraid and knew he would want comfort, because she would too.

Even if Dalek Caan manipulated the timelines to get Donna to him, That friendship was completely real to both of them. We saw what Donna was like without the Doctor in Forest of the Dead and Turn Left, and she always felt some level of unhappiness. 15 years removed from them and she still felt as if something was missing. In every future/reality, she always wanted them there. Same for the Doctor too. Within only a few episodes of losing her, 10 started to fall into becoming the “time lord victorious”. 12 looks the way he does because of Donna’s plea to adhere to his name, and save people. Even before 14 came into existence, the Doctor was willing to tell other people how important she was to them, on account of River recognizing Donna by her name: “you’re Donna, Donna Noble.”

Donna didn’t just travel with the Doctor and she wasn’t just friends with them. She completely understood them, their soulmate. Two halves of a greater whole, The DoctorDonna. 14 stayed because there was a more stable incarnation to take his place, and because his best friend would be there alongside him, helping and supporting him through and through. The Doctor stayed because, for the first time in their life, they felt safe. In where they would be staying, and what they would be leaving behind. 

That's why 15 doubling the TARDIS was so significant. In giving 14 her own TARDIS, 15 is allowing his younger self to have what they always removed from the equation: free will. The Doctor can still go anywhere they want, which makes them even more motivated to stay and fix themself. 14 can feel safe staying with Donna, Wilf, Mel, Rose, Shaun, and Sylvia because the option to travel is still there.

And the truly amazing part of all of this is that the TARDIS knew it from the beginning. Was it a coincidence that very soon after 13 regenerated into 14, the TARDIS landed close to where Donna and Rose would be shopping? 

“You didn’t always take me where I wanted to go.” “No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

The TARDIS brought the Doctor home, and this time, they stayed. Because it was a place where they wanted and needed to be. 

[potato-frenzy]

"Bill.....Bill? Billiammmmmm...Mr. Triangle Apocalypse Criminal Serving Time As A Dirty Human...."

Bill jolts hard enough to send his bowl of honeycomb cereal and oatmilk tottering across the table, hissing at what are soon to be blooming bruises on his knees. Sensory input rushing back in so fast he feels his vision white out, grey creeping in at the edges as his chest begins the jackhammering act again. "Oh my god! Don't die! Not like this! Holy crap, Dipper!"

He only distantly hears Mabel's voice as he slumps out of the kitchen chair, lost against the backdrop of bloodflow and electrical wiring in the walls. His head doesn't crack on the linoleum funnily enough and part of him notes it but the rest of him is lost in the whiteout of sensation assaulting all too human sense. Noise above everything but ligaments and cartilage are a horrible thing to be able to feel when those are elasticated a certain way. Smell never seems to be very obtrusive but tasting dust and wood and plastic as well a hundred other things in a space.

He's never really aware of how long these things last, but he knows that as long as he's not alone it's okay.

Eventually things settled, his awareness comes back to the background noise levels that humans are supposed to operate at. His nervous system no longer able to handle higher levels of input. He blinks away the white and spots and finds himself looking up at Dipper's stricken face and then he registers the taste of blood.

"Did you ......stick your hand in my mouth?" The fifteen year old Pines guiltily tucks bloodied fingers into a vest pocket. Bill can't muster the energy to roll his eyes as the frayed edges of lessening awareness ease.

Another set of hands helps him sit up and he feels his stomach flip uncomfortably. "Did Sixer never tell you that I have a bite clip for that, Pine Tree? It's literally like......in my pocket." Bill grumbles, almost slurred as the younger twins help him back into the chair.

"I was just reading the section of your care guide where the seizures were being covered when Mabel screamed so......" Dipper grumbles as his sister shoves him into another before going to get the first aid kit.

It's the first summer since his return to this reality that the two have spent with their uncles. The pair had reacted poorly at first, both convinced that Bill was playing some long con. But it wasn't very long before they realized he was genuinely helpless. Stanley being willing to care for him in this state, keeping non-dairy alternatives and other GI safe foods in the house so he doesn't die, was a big help.

"What triggered it? The guide said they weren't random. Ouch, Mabel!" Dipper hisses as his bleeding fingers are sprayed with peroxide and Bill has a moment to look at this face that he's looked out of at one point. The younger twins are as identical as their uncles, almost eerily so since Mabel got a pixie cut about two weeks into their stay.

"I don't know, all I was really aware of before everything started exploding was Glitterbomb on the phone with........Puma?"

"Her name is Fatma, Twinkmageddon!" An accusing, jingly, glitter acrylic nail tipped finger is jabbed in Bill's direction. Glitterbomb is a not inaccurate description of the femme Pines twin. Bedecked as she is in glittery resin jewelry, bedazzled denim, and chains dripping in brightly colored charms. "You know my girlfriend's name, you just refused to use it."

"Well excUuuUuse me, princess. I just had my jiggly brain loaf of grey matter firing on all cylinders to a degree that is considered unhealthy according to some. If I misremember a rando's name in the direct aftermath, I apologize." Bill drawls sarcastically, rolling his eyes hard enough to see camera flash after images and cracking his neck with concerningly loud pops like a BB gun.

"Enough," Dipper snaps, yanking on his sister's chain belt. She glares out of the corner of her eye as she returns to the task of patching her brother up. The masc twin groans at the bickering, not like he isn't just as prone to sniping about Bill's situation, but pulls the care guide out of his vest pocket. "I didn't read what the typical observed triggers were yet....."

"Pain or sensory overload or both." Bill answers before Dipper can find his place in the book again. Busily pretzeling his legs under himself as his heartrate takes it's sweet time returning to resting.

"Ah, okay.....Are the lights in here too much? Are you in pain?" Ever the scientist, his fringe falling his eyes as he leafs through the guide while he gathers data.

"Not any more than normal. Chapter 2, kemosabi."

"Right, your baseline is a 3. What could have set you off?" Dipper flexes his hand as the last Jurassic Park bandaid is secured to his fingers, the gears in his brain going as he mulls the presented problem.

"Well, I just know that he started spacing out while I was on the phone and then jumped like he got electrocuted when I touched him." Mabel jingles about, putting the first aid kit away grumpily.

"You ruined a good dissociation is what you did-"

"Oh my god! Too much sensory input due to coming back from a dissociative episode too quickly!" Bill can feel his heartrate spike, his ribs protesting by twitching threateningly, vision tinging grey slightly. Dipper sounds way too excited by the discovery.

"Congratulations on your breakthrough, Baby Einstein." Bill drawls again, slumping against the sticky surface of the kitchen table to steady himself.

-------------------------------------------------------

I would die for Mabel Pines, that's my girl.

This piece is brought to you by my experience with pain/sensory seizures. The POTS symptoms are courtesy of my partner, the EDS is just for fun.

For reference, the first piece was six weeks into Bill's mortal tenure. This one is seven months in, the younger twins have been back for a month. This is the summer between their freshman and sophomore years of highschool. They're turning sixteen at the end of the summer.

Still mulling Dipper's evolution, but, Mabel is a baby lesbian and basically glitter punk. Her girlfriend is trans btw.

[fireflylitsky]

@latart I DID and it will not be nearly as cool or edgy as anyone thinks or wants to be honest 😂 It's a very barebones wip, Hidan from Jashin's POV.

Hidan is not immortal, Jashin just has a fixation with him and goes out of her way to bring him back every freaking time. She is up to her eyeballs in frustration with this guy and cannot understand why he keeps killing himself. She later finds out that her scriptures have become twisted after so many years of inaccurate translations and translations of those translations.

Now people seem to think she's some sort of death god??? It's very stressful for her, but she can't help but feel something for her stupid little human follower.

Snippet:

Jashin keeps a journal. It’s an important thing to do as a God. With a projected lifespan of eternity, it’s easy to forget the little details. 

Ever since the great culling of Gods by her paleness, Kaguya, Jashin has been in hiding, relying on the worship of the few to keep her godship instated. 

The rules are simple: No worshipers, no Godhood. 

Most of her journals over the last few centuries are filled with mundane drivel that she doubts she’ll ever revisit—then Hidan shows up.

Things get interesting, but interesting doesn’t necessarily mean good as he is quick to display.

Dear diary,

Yesterday I had 23 followers. Today I have one. I should hate him since he’s responsible for killing the rest of them. Smite him, maybe. But he’s all I have left. Besides, I can’t fully blame him for the massacre, humans can be rather irritating.

Dear diary,

His name is Hidan. Sorry, I should offer context. That follower I was talking about yesterday? His name is Hidan. I’ll learn more soon I’m sure.

Dear diary,

Hidan died today. As you know, he was my only follower. I know I’m not supposed to resurrect the humans, but what else was I to do? It was kind of sad how it happened. Fell right into a trap, poor guy. One of those pits with spikes in the bottom. I figured he could have a second chance. Besides, who is going to tell me no? Hah.

Dear diary,

Well, he thinks he’s immortal now. I suppose I should have seen this coming.  He bragged about it to quite a few people, even used my name. Maybe this is good advertising? 

Deary diary,

He did it again. It was on purpose this time. A pointed rod through his heart. Injuries like that are easy to fix at least. Sometimes I appreciate how simple he is.

Dear diary,

This human is more work than all the previous ones combined. I can hardly look away without fear of him dying. I’m getting the impression he thinks he’s doing this for me.

Dear diary,

I found the scriptures Hidan had gotten his hands on. I think the previous members wrote it themselves. I have never once demanded a human sacrifice; this feels like they’re projecting. Is it a mistranslation issue? Anyway, I think I understand Hidan a little bit more now.

Dear diary,

I am a God, not a personal shopper. I do not need to be wasting my time masquerading as a mortal and commissioning a custom weapon. This is a stupid idea.

Dear diary,

I did it. I got the scythe. It was a moment of weakness, but he was having a bad day and I… I just felt bad. I hope he likes it. I made sure to get it in his favorite color.

Dear diary,

Hidan made a friend. He’s tall and upon further inspection, appears to be made of black spaghetti. I’m afraid I have fallen out of touch with what constitutes a human these days.

Deary diary,

Oh. They are not friends.

Dear diary,

I’m not sure what they are anymore. But if Hidan likes him, then I like him.

Dear diary,

Hidan is upset about something. He cried today when no one else was around. He always talks to me about everything, but he hasn’t mentioned this. Should I be worried?

[spoofymcgee]

alright i've watched death in heaven and i've entirely revised my take on clara's character to the point where i think the 6k character study of her i finished last night is just. totally inaccurate and wrong.

my original perception of her was based on the fact that the narrative and the doctor's perspective both try very hard to make her a good character. she's the doctor's companion, which means she has to be good and kind and nice.

except that she isn't.

clara oswald is special. and she knows it. she's different from everyone else–there's something exceptional, something remarkable about her–why else would she get to travel the universe with the doctor? she isn't like everyone else, and she likes knowing that. it makes her feel powerful and better and bigger and in control.

she wants to have everything normal people have and more, to prove that she can live a regular life and run out in the middle of the day to save a planet, and this is what keeps proving to her that she's important.

she's the impossible girl–there's something different about her, and as long as that is true she's worth something.

which is not to say that she's bad: she's a little callous and sometimes cruel, she isn't very compassionate or sympathetic, but on the whole she has a basic set of morals.

and it's fine, for a while, i think.

but she fits everything into very specific boxes, including people, and knows where they go and of not how to control them than at least how to work around them.

and then the doctor changes, and she's not there to see it, and he regenerates, and she is there for that.

and he doesn't act like she's learned to expect, she can't rely on him, he doesn't treat her like she's special anymore, he's more critical, more honest, and she gets afraid.

she can't predict him anymore, and she's also afraid that he's getting too close to really seeing her, or maybe just stopping to pretend that he hasn't already. and somewhere, maybe subconsciously, she wants him to think that she's good and kind, wants to keep believing that she is, and she's just as afraid as he is that she isn't a good person.

and that's the crux of the problem with the doctor and clara's dynamic–they're too similar. that's why, in hell bent, the doctor doesn't need clara to figure out what's going on–he never has.

the doctor needed clara because he needed someone to believe he was good when he didn't. even if she couldn't convince him, he needed someone there to see him as good. twelve spends a lot of time thinking about whether or not he is good, whether or not he can be trusted, what kind of man he is and wants to be.

eleven spent the last three hundred years of his life defending a planet of innocent people who he got involved with his war. he watched them fight and die and tried to save them and knew that, in some very real ways, it was his fault.

as eleven, the doctor got big. the doctor got important. the doctor became a legend and a god and a figurehead and a nightmare and he doesn't know which one of those things cancel the others out.

so he needs someone there who just sees him as the doctor, plain and simple.

to clara, the doctor isn't important because he's a good man, or he does good things, or because she cares about him as a person. he's important because he proves that she's different from everyone else, that she's special–he's her path to the stars, to singularity.

oh, i don't think she knows that. i think she wants to believe–and does, maybe–that she loves him, that he's her friend, the one person she'll never leave behind. that's what she's supposed to feel. but the second something happens that isn't supposed to, the second her life diverges from the narrative she wants it to have, her first course of action is to try and force the doctor to do what she wants by threatening his life and freedom.

and that's good enough for twelve. if he's a tool to her then he's not a god, and she's controlling enough that if he spins too far out from good she'll pull him back so she doesn't lose him, and doesn't lose the sway she has over him.

my proof for this in clara's character is the way danny's story ends.

she didn't object to the fact that he died. in the end, she more or less killed him. for a girl whose first plan when the only person she loves dies is to threaten to kill herself and her best friend in a volcano, she gives up very easily.

if this was a story about how much she's unwilling to let danny go–which it seems to be–then she shouldn't care what he wants. she should be trying to make him stay, or at least convincing him, she should be crying, she should be screaming and trying to stop the doctor from flipping the switch.

but instead she offers to do it. she stands there quietly and demurely holding him while everything wraps up.

clara was more upset by the fact that he died in a boring, ordinary way than the fact that he died, because ordinary, normal death didn't fit into the story of danny-the-hero, danny-the-soldier, danny-who-saved-the-world. she is not ordinary and so she is owed a star-crossed love story by the universe and star-crossed lovers are not separated by car accidents.

but if he dies a hero, if he sacrifices himself to save her and everyone on earth, if he's special, then she gets to keep being special by association, gets to be the woman he loved so much he resisted cyberman brainwashing for, the woman he saved the world for.

for clara, traveling with the doctor while maintaining her normal life is a litmus test of how special she is, and because she is special she is owed the life she thinks she should have by the universe. danny is part of what she is owed, and part of the reason she is owed it.

for the doctor, clara is the only person he has to rely on to see him as a man and measure whether or not he is still good, still doing the right thing, still staying within the lines.

neither of them are ever going to give each other up, and they both believe so strongly that if they express any genuine attachment and strong desire to keep travelling together then they'll scare the other off. so they won't even admit how attached they are to each other, and they won't walk away even though they keep pretending they will, because they need each other like air.

the second the doctor loses clara or clara loses the doctor, the illusion collapses, and they're going to have to see who they really are inside.

and. god. that's so fascinating to me.

[royallygray]

JUST WATCHED EP3 TO THE END OF THE LIGHTNING THIEF AND OH BOY

I enjoyed that. Significantly. SOME OF MY FAVORITE THINGS (spoilers):

Hades is so fucking based? And for what? Like he's so chill he's chill in the books but Hades is cool as a cucumber

Pausing the show to rant to my friend about stuff that was inaccurate or just how cool stuff is. I love the show.

The funniest fucking thing was when Cerberus fucking broke through the clouds after Percy squeaked the ball and that was a literal jump scare and I screamed. It was fucking amazing.

I was so mad after Annabeth hugged Percy at the Arch and Grover didn't get a hug. LET MY FUCKING BOYS HUG OH MY GODS IDK IF THEY HUG IN THE BOOKS BUT GROVER LOOKED SO LONELY

Speaking of: GROVER IS THE MOST FUCKING AMAZING CHARACTER. HE GASLIT ARES. I LOVE HIM.

Speaking of, I also enjoyed Annabeth gaslighting Hermes.

I also liked screaming "LIN-MANUEL MIRANDA" when he was going up the elevator.

Also Medusa was kind of like... nice? And I got weirdly attached to her? Also where was the diner I wanted them to eat their hamburgers in the diner

grovers conflict resolution skills are. peak

the scene where he snaps at them after Medusa is dead is fucking amazing.

My friend and I were so upset that Percy and Annabeth didn't have the double stuf Oreo scene in the shitty animal trafficking truck

although when they got out of the truck and let the animals escape, I fucking adored Grover being like "the animals are safe" and Percy being like "I meant the humans" and Grover going "oh. them. well, the animals are safe!"

Fucking hated Echidna. Bitch. I enjoyed hating her. She looks like if a school counselor got sent to an insane asylum and broke out. I don't know how, but it works in my brain.

I was screaming the entire time they were at the Arch. I went summer o' 2023 and LIKE. IT WAS SO COOL. Also Thomas Jefferson? Legend. I went to Monticello and the UVA on the same trip. I fucking love architecture. Really hate that he had slaves. The architecture was really cool though. Not a good person, but he does like his fucking brick roads. Seriously. So many brick roads. He's a hypocrite politician who had slaves, he is, but also designed some pretty fucking cool architecture.

Anyways back to the Arch, I WALKED ON THAT GROUND THAT THEY WALKED ON YIPPEE :D

Also I was a little disappointed that Percy slipped off of the Arch rather than jumping but whatever

OMG THE HEPHAESTUS SCENE ANNABETH I LOVE YOU. I fucking loved that scene she fucking solved it.

Also Sally wanting Percy to be different from the gods because their family is shitty AF? sad. AND him actually being different and Annabeth believing in him? sad.

AND LUKE. SOMEHOW I LIKED LUKE AT THE END. AND MY FRIEND AND I HAD AN ENTIRE DISCUSSION.

LUKE'S REASONS WERE SO FUCKING JUSTIFIED AND IT MAKES ME SAD. Sure, he shouldn't've fucking SOLD HIS SOUL to Kronos, but gods. Luke. You were right. You are right. The gods should fucking carry their slack, and while I don't think Percy believed him at first, at least not completely, I think by Last Olympian Percy understands completely where he's coming from, because Percy has a lot of pent up emotions at the gods too and I think Luke got part of what he wanted. I think

ANYWAYS HERE ARE SOME PHOTOS I TOOK WHEN WE PAUSED THE SHOW TO TALK:

the second one of Ares (the contemplation face) is a meme. I guarantee it. I can't remember which meme, I just remember that I've seen that facial expression before.

the angles of Ares and Grover for the 1st Grover one (the weird above angle) were strange. like a detective scene. a strange detective scene. it was fucking hilarious.

Grover having his head out of the roof was such an amazing moment for me. I loved it. It's such a good picture.

also here's a meme I made

Thank you for coming to my ted talk and have a nice rotation of Earth's axis :)