#stuff with skin and the like is the biggest issue for me because of the skin picking trigger

[thedeafprophet]

i really dont have a concrete way to describe what types of body horror/stuff bother me and what dont. and its hard to predict even for myself. like

okay in the Annihilation movie, the bear with the mutated skull face, while a horrifying scene that scared me in a fun way, didnt Bother me at all.

vs the like. Guts. scene and the flowers growing in self harm scars, that is what hit that Bad Thing part of my brain, esp the latter. itchy.

[warping-realities]

Parental Pressure 

Eddie watched the personal trainer's video for the thousandth time as he was getting closer to the little gym for his first class. He had snuck out of his house super early and quietly because he knew Nick, his old man, wouldn’t approve of his son wasting time on this kinda stuff. He became a single father really young, back in high school, and now, at 35, he did everything he could to make sure his kid didn’t follow the same path. Becoming a doctor was Nicholas Rousseau’s biggest dream, but early fatherhood messed up his chance to hit the books at college. Not that he blamed Eddie for it; on the contrary, they usually had a solid relationship, except when Eddie strayed from the plans his dad laid out for his future. If Nick couldn’t get into med school, Eddie sure as hell would, whether he liked it or not. And now, with less than a month before college kicked off, Eddie was having doubts about the path laid out for him. So, in a rebellious move, after getting an invite to check out Rocco “Rocky” Mancini's gym, an Italian bodybuilder who moved to the States, now retired and not exactly a big name in the game, who a few years back started hustling as a personal trainer and, according to the promo video on Eddie's Instagram, was looking for young men to boost his portfolio. It looked like that gig wasn’t going great either. The first person to sign up would get a month of free daily training. Perfect for Eddie; after all, a month of training with an expert before college would make things way easier when he had to hit the gym away from his overprotective dad’s watchful eye. Surprisingly he was the first one to sign up! And so, the young  skinny man, with light brown hair found himself stepping into the dimly lit gym at 6 AM.

As he stood frozen at the door, anxiety washing over him, a monstrous figure approached, strutting with swagger, muscles bulging looking like they might burst from the thin layer of skin wrapping them. With a fuller beard and looking at least five years older than in the video Eddie had seen over and over, the guy oozed confidence and a certain arrogance. But those weren’t the only things he was giving off, as it became clear to Eddie when the dude came up to him with a sweaty hand extended to shake, a distinct animal musk dominating his senses.

“You must be Eddie! Nice to meet ya, kid; I’m Rocco, but you can call me Rocky—everyone does. Welcome to my little temple. So, you ever trained before?”

“Ahn, no... I wanted to, but my dad... no, I’ve never trained.”

“Feeling a little bit of Daddy Issues here? Just kidding, son! Where’s your workout gear?”

“I thought, since it’s the first day... I... didn’t bring any...”

“Damn, son, you weren’t kidding when you said you’ve never trained; you don’t have a clue! But don’t sweat it, we’ll fix that! You can wear the shirt; I’ll get you some shorts.”

“I... don’t wanna be a bother.”

“Son, you came here to train, and train is what you’re gonna do. I don’t know what your pops taught you but it looks like you got a lot to learn from me. First thing, you gotta be more assertive—don’t be scared to say what you think or do what you like.”

Hearing that, Eddie felt something shift inside him; the fear and anxiety that had been eating at him for weeks seemed to fade away. He wanted to be there, and nobody was gonna take that away from him, not even his old man.

After hitting the locker room and putting on the shorts Rocco lent him, which were way too big in the legs but surprisingly just right in the waist, Eddie went back to the main room where the personal trainer was waiting for him.

“We gotta fill those shorts, son!”

“That’s why I’m here, Mr. Mancini.”

“Hell yeah! That’s the spirit but none of this Mr. Mancini nonsense; you either call me Rocky or coach.”

“Yes, sir, coach!”

“That’s right! Now, back to our chat, you said you’ve been training for a while, but how long is a while, son?”

That info was totally wrong; he’d never trained, right? But why did he have fuzzy memories of sneaking out to hit the school gym before class during his senior year? If he hadn’t trained, where did those small but tight muscles come from?

“I’ve been training for almost a year, coach, but I don’t think I’ve seen much result.”

“Two more things to teach you, son: first, we’re never happy with the size we are, and second, even so, you’re never gonna downplay your achievements; you’ve done something that most people can’t even pull off. Be proud of that.”

“I... I’m proud, yeah!” he replied, realizing the coach was speaking the truth. He had a lot of pride in what he accomplished, even though he knew he was still far from where he wanted to be.

“Awesome! Now you’re talking like a real champ. But enough chit-chat, let’s see what you’re made of.” Rocco said before putting Eddie through the most grueling workout he’d ever experienced. His self-taught training hadn’t prepared him for this level of exhaustion. After half an hour of intense agony, they took a break, and Eddie tried to recover before what he knew would be another half hour of torture as Rocco praised him.

“Damn, son, all that fuss you had with your pops to come train with me in your junior year was worth it. You’re huge; another minute and that shirt ain’t gonna hold!”

Still exhausted from the workout, Eddie took a moment to wrap his head around what the trainer had said. A fight with his dad...? And training here for at least three years...? No... it didn’t make sense... but then he saw his own reflection in the gym mirror, and he was... fucking swole! And that... that wasn’t just possible; it was thanks to the time he’d spent caring for his body all this while, even with his dad breathing down his neck.

“Thanks, Coach, but I’m still not anywhere near where I wanna be!”

“Well, if you get closer, this shirt definitely isn’t gonna hold. I’ll grab you one of mine, or you can train shirtless until the other clients show up, son. In the meantime, figure out how to get that thing off, but I doubt it’s coming off without tearing. Maybe you should film a video for your social media; I bet your followers will go wild!”

“Haha, I don’t think that they will care, and I feel kinda uncomfortable putting myself out there. So I’ll take the shirt.” Eddie replied as the coach returned with an enormous shirt in hand and offered it to him.

“Son, there’s no reason to be shy about showing off; you sculpted that body for a reason. Don’t tell me that’s another one of your dad’s ideas? You never cared much about what he thinks, and I’ve known you since you were a little brat, fourteen years old, showing up on opening day to get an autograph!”

Once again, Eddie felt something shift inside him; the cordial relationship he had with his overly protective dad was turning into a conflictual one, with both of them constantly arguing about the expectations they had for Eddie’s future, which drove him to practically live at Rocco’s gym, where he helped with maintenance or took care of the place to keep training without having to pay.

“You’re right, as always, Rocky; it’s just that, I dunno... I think this crowd that needs to post everything they do is kinda empty and vain.”

“Son if you don’t show off your gains, you won’t grow your followers, and so what if it seems kinda empty? What matters is being seen. And nobody builds a body like yours without a bit of vanity. I’ll let you keep training; I’ve got a client in twenty minutes. If you need me for anything, just holler.”

“Rocky, I can train better than a lot of pro bodybuilders, man! You know that!”

“Son there’s a fine line between confidence and arrogance! You can strut around all you want with your followers, but don’t come at me with that!” Rocky shot back, though he couldn’t hide a smile of approval.

As the trainer moved away to organize things for his client, Eddie focused on finishing his remaining exercises. Kicking off his sneakers and heading to the squat rack barefoot, he stacked plate after plate until he formed a sizable pile that would surprise anyone. But the truth was, despite the insane weight, it was relatively easy for Eddie. Next, he hit the leg press and finished with deadlifts using a bar that weighed more than a baby rhino. When he sat down to do his last exercise of the day, calves, a distinct funk emanated from his armpits, but mainly from his giant size 14 bare feet. Looking at himself and feeling pumped, he couldn’t resist pulling out his phone to shoot a TikTok video. He was in the middle of recording when Rocky interrupted him.

“Damn, kid, you reek! No offense, we all have a little man funk; I know how it is, but clients are gonna start showing up, so take a shower and let’s get to work.”

“Damn, coach, sometimes you’re worse than my dad.” The kid replied, stopping the recording.

“I am your father, boy!” The older man shot back with a sinister grin and a predatory look at the younger man before continuing. “And if you really wanna please your fans, be a show-off; don’t hide your assets, son; show off that chest and those abs, but hurry up, ‘cause this place is gonna be packed soon. We’re not the biggest gym in town by luck, Wardo. This young stud pose might please your fans, but the morning ladies prefer when you play the part of the innocent bambino.”

This time, the wave of strangeness hit Eddie so hard that he felt dizzy and nauseous, exacerbated by the potent funk he was putting off. And for the first time since he stepped foot in that gym, he fully realized what was going down as he automatically took off his shirt and walked toward one of the gym mirrors, a gym which seemed to expand with every step he took, turning from a small studio into a gigantic complex. As his skin took on an olive tone and his dark brown hair curled into perfect black curls, while his nose turned aquiline like a Roman emperor from antiquity, Eddie struggled within his own mind while Edoardo Mancini took control. If someone could hear the debate between the two, it would sound something like:

“Dude, I am... no, we are what you’ve always wanted to be! Pops gave you this chance; why not embrace it?”

“’Cause I... I’m going to med school...”

“You never wanted that; we never wanted that; that was Nicholas’s thing, not ours. This is our chance to be whoever we wanna be!”

“No... we are what Rocco made us; we’re just trading one controlling dad for another!”

“Not even close, dude! We chose this path; he didn’t pressure us! We followed him out of admiration, and that boosted both his success and ours; we’re legends in the fitness world!”

“Rocco was a mediocre pro... he’s using us for leverage!”

“And what’s wrong with that? We’re getting something out of it too! And how is that different from Nicholas pressuring you?”

“I... I... don’t know...”

“Dude, if you didn’t want this, I wouldn’t be here. Chill and enjoy; besides, Pops already got what he wanted from us. He’s not gonna pressure us to follow in his footsteps. We can be whatever we want: bodybuilders like him, or fitness models, or even kickstart an acting career; and I’m not even talking about porn, even though this big guy between our legs would be a hit. Just accept it.” Wardo said, stroking the giant cock in his mind and in real life.

“I... I... damn... this feels so... fucking... good!”

“Wardo! Wrap it up, kid, and stop playing with that thing; we got a new client coming.” Rocco scolded his son.

“Damn, Pops, another ruined video!”

“You weren’t gonna post that, kid; you wanna get banned from social media?”

“I was just messing around...”

“Kid... you’ve got five minutes to take a shower and get your ass to the front desk.”

“Okay, Dad! Did you hear that, folks? The great Rocco Mancini has spoken, and the good son obeys! I’ll be back with updates soon.” The young man said before stopping the recording.

“I’ll edit it so nothing racy gets out; don’t worry, Dad!”

“Five minutes and counting!” Rocco replied with fake irritation, but in reality, he was puffed up with pride for his son as he headed for the reception, spotting a man in his mid-thirties, wearing glasses and an outfit that screamed he’d never set foot in a gym in his life.

“Good morning, sir; welcome to Rocky's Gym; I’m Rocky Mancini, the owner and head coach. Are you looking for something?”

“Good morning, I’m Nick Rousseau, and I’m actually looking for my son; his phone tracker showed he was here just a few minutes ago before it suddenly stopped working.”

“Tracker? Isn’t that a bit much? Anyway, how old is he and what’s he like? We haven’t had anyone too young around here today, except for my own kid, but if I can help you out…”

“I... I don’t know...”

“You don’t know? What kinda dad doesn’t know how to describe his own kid?”

“I... I...” Nicholas replied, his voice filled with genuine desperation, which made Rocco feel a bit of sympathy, but not enough to stop him from making the next call.

“Hey, Wardo... Wardo!!! Damn kid never listens! Edoardo Mancini!!!!” Rocky yelled while watching Nicholas slightly tremble at the sound of that name.

“What’s up, Pops? I’ll get ready in a sec.” The handsome young man replied as he prepared to flex the powerful muscles that no kid his age could get without maximum dedication, watched by his dad and the other boy.

“Not that, you insubordinate ragazzo! This guy’s looking for his son; has anyone younger shown up today?”

“Nope!” He replied, giving Nicholas a quick glance over the shades he was wearing just for style before turning around and finally heading to the locker room.

“Sorry about that, teenage boys; you know how they are.” Rocco said, smiling at the other man.

“I... know?”

“Didn’t you come looking for your son?”

“Son?? Son... no... I don’t have kids... do I?” Nicholas replied, looking both confused and desperate.

“Are you feeling alright? I’m no doc, but I can try to help.”

“Doc... doctor? No... no need... I’m a doctor.” Nicholas replied with more confidence.

“Seriously? That’s awesome! Doctors are always good clients; they know how to take care of themselves.”

“Client?”

“You didn’t come here to train? We’re in a gym, after all.”

“Of course... I came... to train. You come highly recommended.”

“Modesty aside, it’s because I’m the best. I normally don’t take new clients, but we could use a doctor to evaluate our clients, so we could do a trade; you wouldn’t happen to be a sports doc, would you?”

“No, I…”

“Awesome! Just what I needed! But I can tell you’re already in shape!” Rocco said, grinning. “Let me show you the gym. Normally, this would be Wardo’s job, but the kid’s been so focused on his influencer career that he’s slacking here... between us, I’d rather he be a bodybuilder like me, but I think a dad should respect his kid’s wishes; don’t you think?” Rocco asked, and without waiting for a reply, he continued. “Don’t you wanna have kids? Are you single or married? Dude, if you’re single, I gotta introduce you to my sister; no disrespect to her, ‘cause my mama raised me right, but between us, she’s a total smoke show...” And so he went on while Nicholas followed, not realizing that with every word spoken, his reality was adjusting to the other man’s desires.

Minutes later, Rocco stepped into the locker room bathroom and watched his son recording another video, already showered but still unable to shake off the musk that surrounded him, maybe because he was still wearing the same shorts from his workout. He admired his boy, feeling proud knowing all this was his hard work paying off.

When the young man finished recording, he turned to him.

“Wardo, finish getting dressed and come out here for a minute; I got a surprise for you.”

….

“Hey guys, Wardo Mancini here, and I’ve got some awesome news! You’re probably tired of seeing my pops in my videos, but today, besides him, I wanna introduce you to someone else.” He said, repositioning the camera in the packed gym.

“This handsome fella next to my dad is my doctor, Nic Russo, and on top of that, he’s my uncle, married to my dad’s sister. And now for the biggest news: he’s about to be a dad, and he asked me to be the godfather of his boy! Just think about the genetics of that kid with a dad like this and an uncle like my pops. My uncle says the kid can be whatever he wants, but we all know the iron bug is in our blood, and as far as his godfather is concerned, Rocky Russo is gonna be a champion bodybuilder!”

[thargelalia]

Jason Todd headcanon alert 🚨

*taps mic, and clears throat*

Okay okay so, I’ve seen some people on here saying Jason probably uses 3 in 1 shampoo conditioner body wash, and I actually agree.

BUT as a latina I got somethings to say!

I won’t even address the comments I saw saying that he doesn’t shower regularly because that’s just insane btw. At least when it comes to the way I imagine him.

Obviously I try to make my reader as neutral as possible in terms of ethnicity and stuff but bitch I’m sure as hell incorporating our overall cultural aspect of always being clean and smelling like heaven alright lmao 💅✨

Smelling great has gotta be like one of the biggest aphrodisiacs in the world idc what anybody says. Being clean and smelling good is POWER babes!!!

That being said:

If Jason starts dating a girl like that, the minute she spots that product on his bathroom shelf, it’s 👏 going 👏 away 👏

He may protest at first, saying it’s practical, and that he’s been doing that for years etc, but the death glare he receives will shut him up completely.

Besides proper shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, I see him incorporating good smelling body lotion, and post-shave balm for example.

With time, he also sees your commitment with skincare (again, nothing too crazy), and gets convinced to adopt a 3 steps routine too (face wash, moisturizer, sunscreen). Ofc he’ll forget about it in the beginning and whenever he’s exhausted from patrol or his missions. But you’re always there to gently remind him or do it for him.

He also applies a thicker facial cream to his face on Winter, and relishes on the fact that his face stops cracking.

You might convince him to try on a face mask with you on a lazy Saturday night. It’s domestic and another way to bond as well.

Aside from abolishing the 3 in 1 horrid thing, you wouldn’t really push him into doing anything else. It’d be mere suggestions accompanied by an extra sweet smile.

Ultimately, Jason doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to. Even if you insist. If it doesn’t make sense to him, he won’t do it.

However, he’s actually as open to listen to your ideas and opinions as you are to his.

And that’s how he gets convinced, and starts incorporating these things into his life.

His skin and hair actually look better, hence he feels better about himself too. It’s an act of self care. One he’s never actually had the luxury to have or think about.

Besides, he loves how wonderful you smell with sweetened and fresh scents, making him wanna bite you all over just to get a taste of the supple skin.

So why wouldn’t he want to mirror that as well? He sees that it’s worth it when you just can’t stop smelling him, praising him, and returning his bites with just as much eagerness. This man purrs alright!!!

And listen, he’s a manly man, but fortunately not one to have a fragile masculinity in any way. So this isn’t an issue for him.

You’re there to help him when he needs it, making sure he feels comfortable, and respecting his boundaries at all times <3

Overall, I just think as your relationship progressed you’ve incorporated and exchanged a lot of things between each other, and I’m excited to share some other examples in the near future.

thanks for reading this, and let me know your thoughts!

if you disagree feel free to do so in your head (just kiddin’!! maybe!) <3

[russellsppttemplates]

Would you be able to write a blurb with Charles or lando with reader going through it with postpartum? Feeling down and sore maybe recovering after a c section or like issues w breastfeeding. You always write them so well and I need more to tame my baby fever

Note: this can also be considered a sneak peek of a big piece request I have coming up 🤍 also, thank you for taking the time to leave the compliment, it truly makes my day ✨️

Cw: breastfeeding, c-section, post partum, scarring, low mood, self-doubt

"Love, can you fill this bottle again, please?", you asked Lando so you could drink water while you fed Fraser, "it's supposed to help with healing and milk production and health stuff", you gestured.

Chuckling at your words, Lando went to the kitchen to fill it and brought it back, straw ready for you to drink from.

"He's getting bigger, don't you think?", Lando said, sitting next to you on the sofa and kissing your naked shoulder, "you're doing such a good job, baby, I love you", he whispered.

"Just doing what needs to be done", you shrugged your shoulders. It had been a whole rollercoaster with Fraser and you were just grateful that you were home with your family, safe and sound. The rest, you were taking day by day.

"You've been amazing, beautiful. I don't know how to thank you for how much you do for him, for our family", he said as he squeezed your arm reassuringly, "I know it can be hard to believe, but I'm telling the truth. Matilda kept telling her friends that mummy is her hero when I dropped her off", he smiled.

Having surgery, not being able to hold your baby straight away and all of the complications that arose stretched you to the furthest of your physical and emotional abilities, trying to make sure everything was right and doing well, but it was exhausting you.

After feeding and burping Fraser, he was also put in the tiny bedside cot, making you take advantage of the fact that you were up to get your nightitme routine down. After your shower, you rubbed moisturiser on the skin, grabbing the ointment to put on your scar. You wouldn't trade it for the world, your baby boy was brought earthside from there, but the pain and sensitivity were still heightened despite the medications you were taking.

"Baby, is everything alright in there?", Lando said as he opened the door slightly, not missing your rushed movements to pull your nightgown down, "yes, just need to brush my teeth", you attempted a smile.

"I want to take care of you tonight, if you'll allow me", Lando said as he kissed the nape of your neck once you sat on the bed next to him.

"Lando, I don't- we can't-", you attempted, tears falling from your eyes the minute you felt his hands on the side of your boobs.

"Baby, Y/N, darling, I'm not doing anything you don't want to, but I'd like you to relax for a little bit", he encouraged, kissing away your tears, "I hate seeing you like this and I wish I could take this pain away from you", he muttered.

Taking a deep breath, you fiddled with the bracelet on your wrist before you seeked the comfort of his hand in yours, lacing your fingers as you traced his wedding band, "I've been feeling... a lot of things", you started softly, your husband not pressuring you to speak and accepting your touch, "I feel like we're out of the woods - finally - but then it still hurts and I can't do all the things I want and it sucks", you said as tears welled up again,

"Baby, that little boy loves you so much. You're his mummy, and it is because you're so attentive to him that you can't do him wrong. Matilda, who was the biggest daddy's girl I have ever met, doesn't even care about me anymore", he joked, "she's always like, 'yes,b but mummy did this and that and so on', and you know I can't argue with her because she's right! She's in awe of you and you're the best example for her", he kissed your forehead.

"I just feel like I'm slower than everyone else else and that I'm not coming back as quick, and I'm not on top of all of it already", you groaned, "he just learned to latch properly this week - and it's not his fault because he's so clever already -, and then I look at his handsome face and there's this rush of love", you shook your head, "it's so much, all at once".

"It's normal, gorgeous. And you're taking it like a champ, I'm so proud of you for that. I love you for that and so much more", he said earnestly, "you're the best mummy - me, Fraser and Matilda all agree", he smiled, pulling you to rest against his chest and rubbing your arm.

"Tilly's really said that?", you chuckled, "I think it was more like 'mummy was able to feed Fraser and help me with my homework at the same time. Why are you struggling so much?', but, you know, maybe I'm just reading too much into it, you know?", he shrugged his shoulders, happy to see you smile genuinely and calmly.

(Thank you for submitting an ask ✨️)

[valorantmenheadcanons]

Innocent and shy masc reader has an incredibly dirty search history and an even worse taste in porn, has a large collection of order receipts from bad dragon. Cypher goes snooping and finds this all out? They have a little "chat" about network security -🐩

this is like my biggest fear except with my parents accidentally opening one of my packages. its either shampoo or a toy gnmsfgns

cw: suggestive, mentions of Corn, technically kind of cyberstalking? it's cypher what do u expect

wc: 718

It's late when you hear a soft knock at your door. You put your phone down on the bed, wondering who's on the other side of the door, especially at this hour. You hope it isn't a call for a last minute mission- the last thing you want right now is to be in a plane in a matter of minutes, geared up to fight.

When you open the door, you're greeted to the sight of a familiar beige figure, standing just a little too close. Cypher never seemed to mind getting in other people's space as long as he was the one doing it; invade his and he'd scamper off in seconds. His blue mechanical eyes scan over you quickly, though in a way that reminds you of someone checking for weapons rather than looking appreciatively.

"I need to talk to you about something," the man chirps, inviting himself inside your room before you can say anything. He slides by you with a careful hand on your shoulder, the leathery material of his gloves cool against your skin. You flush a little at the contact, fleeting but strangely electrifying. You shut your door behind him, folding your arms over your chest as you turn around to face him. You assume he's going to ask for a favour of some kind, or he wants to steal a piece of machinery from you, again, but you're really not in the mood to humour his requests, tired, and a little cranky because of it. Cypher pauses for a moment, hand half-raised in the air like he's trying to figure out exactly what he wants to say. "You know that I am very technology proficient, yes?"

You nod, frowning at the opening. He's usually pretty straightforward when he's asking for something.

"Come on, everyone knows to delete it afterwards. Are you trying to tease me?" Cypher's voice is smooth, peppy and cheerful but calculated, any hint of hesitancy gone. He's talking to you the same way he chides his opponents in a fight he's already won. The realisation sends a shiver up your spine- he knows something that either you don't know or don't want him to know. But you have an inkling, a gut feeling, that it's something you didn't want him to know. Not yet, anyways.

"What are you talking about?" You try, a little too quick to appear genuinely confused. Cypher's head only tilts minutely.

"You're too smart to be playing dumb. I mean, really?" Cypher scoffs, taking a few steps forwards, forcing you to take one back to maintain a semblance of distance between you two. "Looking up Moroccan models?" Another step forward, and your back brushes against the wall next to the door. "Picturing me as any one of them, hm?" Another step, and there's barely any space between you, and you want to die.

You hadn't intended for him to see any of that- although that meant he was snooping around your private search history, a whole other issue to tackle- but you also hadn't not intended for him to see any of that. It was a blurred line, your attraction to Cypher.

"'dirty talk in arabic'?" He has the decency to stifle a laugh, which only makes your face flush deeper, embarrassment, shame, and something else washing over you. "Mm, not to mention your purchasing history. Dirty, dirty, dirty boy," he clicks his tongue. "I thought you were all sweet, not so perverted."

You finally find your voice, the tips of your ears burning at this point. "I'm not the one snooping around in other people's stuff!" You tout back, a weak deflection.

"I'm not the one imagining their coworker is fucking them."

"Shut up!" You groan, really wishing with all your heart that you could be anywhere but here.

Cypher's beady blue eyes lift with a mirth you can sense through his mask. "Ohhh... but you like it. You're so red," and this time he does chuckle, mean and condescending, and damn if it doesn't send a little jolt of warmth through you, the idea that that little laugh is just for you to hear. "How about this: You show me which videos you like, and I'll give you a... personal lesson in how to delete your search history. How does that sound?"

[the-lonelyshepherd]

"fanon lottienatters please stay away from me" oh!! shots fired!! 2,000 dead, 10,000 injured!! BUT curious about your specific definition for fanon lottienat and what you dislike about it <33

ohhhhh okay... alrrrrrr

this is like. one of my biggest issues. im not like a shipper, never rlly have been until yj but i dont like engage in discourse bc thats stupid.

But basically? Fanon lottienat just kinda strips anything thats interesting about the ship away. and makes it like. punk x preppy. loser x popular. ive even heard black cat and golden retriever which makes me want to rip my eyes out.

And its not even accurate to their characterization? at all? like youre flanderizing them but like..... not even their main traits. like ive seen people say "precrash lottie would be like charlotte from status update (curse that movie btw. the things i do for u courtney eaton) which is just. like not at all.

first off lottie is not popular. yeah, shes rich, but shes clearly somewhat of a loner (WHICH PARALLELS NAT?? WHICH MAKES IT MORE INTERESTING???) even courtney has said this in interviews. she feels ostracized, and a lot of it can be traced back to the flashback scenes we see, esp those about her relationship w her parents and her supposed mental illness. the 90s, especially the 90s in a high pressure rich family, was NOT a good place to have schizophrenia (and yeah theres the "she wasnt actually mentally ill" argument but that changes nothing because atp in the story her whole family and probably herself believed she was.

Then we have the nat characterization. The fanon "grumpy" to fanon lotties "sunshine". guys canonically nat smiles more than lottie. girlie was always grinning while lottie was experiencing the horrors all of s1. ofc they both went THROUGH it but that specific stereotype pissed me off sm i had to address it.

also, nat gets shown a lot as masc?? which is a fine headcanon but like for her style like the whole punk thing? she acc dresses relatively femininely.those are little irks abt nat but they bother me idc. too tired to write more on this rn but feel free to ask!

so basically taking this stuff into account - fanon lottienat uses a gross mischaracterization of both characters, especially lottie (also that suspiciously align w stereotypes HMMMMM) to literally make the ship more boring. You are making it a stupid and lame trope. You literally have these two insanely complex characters who mirror each other. Theyre not opposites attract, they are the same character in different skins. They're both loners, one because of her punk/rebel nature and nasty rumors, the other because of her mental illness and lack of closeness to people. Theyre both loners because of their social status and their fucked up home life. Theyre both providers - nat the hunter, bringer of physical and real food like the deer. Lottie the prophet, bringer of hope and, through the teams eyes, the birds, the bear, etc. Lottie who begs to be a martyr but is denied nat who runs from it but shoulders it anyways. They're both bleeding hearts they both give soul to the team and are some of the most genuine characters but they present it so differently.

The fact that the majority of content grossly mischaracterizes them and is the widely accepted fanon just.. sucks tbh. and the fact that people get so up in arms about them, and literally attack fans of other characters (lottielee fans... travis fans....) for no reason?? all these other characters do is contribute to what makes lottienat such a compelling and fucked up and interesting ship. i love them so much but lwk most of yall are insane and dont even appreciate them for what they really are.

thoughts questions comments concerns hmu

[bombasticsalt]

Arcane and systemic issues aka why Jinx isn't the biggest problem for Arcane's characters

So this post is mainly based on this comment I saw on some random reaction video that said Jinx was the biggest problem in Arcane's universe and why they are wrong. Did we watch the same show? Of course you can root for whoever you want to but I don't feel like you can say people of the undercity revolting are the main problem.

See the thing is Jinx wouldn't have been created as she is if it weren't for her being born on the wrong side of town. I've seen people say Mylo created Jinx or Vi created Jinx but the thing is that arcanes society as it is created Jinx. Often when people talk about powder I see people say that she's only a kid and of course she's bad at stuff, but I think the bigger issue isn't that Powder is bad at stuff it's that she shouldn't have to be good at making bombs, or fighting, or parkour. Powder was a child, a sensitive child at that she's not less talented than any other normal child but, she's surrounded by other kids who have had to have thick skin and have been forced to survive on their wits. Of course, compared to Mylo, Claggor, and Vi she's the weak link because she's the only one in that group who doesn't have something she excells in. Powder has the talent of a child because she is a child who shouldn't have been forced to be at anything other than a childs level. Vi has always been a fighter from what we've seen and that's something that helps her but not every kid is like that, not every kid is a natural leader and they shouldn't have to be they're children it's their job to learn. But for kids like Mylo they don't see it that way all they can see is that everybody else is good at something except for Powder. Mylo makes Powder feel bad for not being good at anything, for jinxing every job because in his eyes she should be up to Zaun's standards. Even though the kids in Zaun shouldn't have to be tough, by normal standards Powder is a smart child but by the undercity's standards she's a weak link. It's not that Powder is bad at everything or a Jinx she's just a child who wasn't born equipped for the world she was brought in.

One of the things I love about arcane is how much content they give us outside of the canon show especially, the enemy music video. Scene's that stick with me are when Powder see's these two people fighting and she has this sad little face it's so heartbreaking, and when she does her little finger gun thing with enforcers. Which brings me to my next point, the undercity is ultimately stuck in a cycle of violence. Doesn't it say something that Silco's best idea of how to control the undercity is to introduce a highly addictive and dangerous drug that grants ordinary people the chance to be strong and retaliate. Most of the enforcers don't care about justice and are more focused on keeping people in the undercity than keeping peace. When you're raised around violence for that long it becomes all you know, hell what made Powder get into wanting to make bombs in the first place. As long as Jinx has been alive the enforcers and topside has been the enemy who has repeatedly said let them eat cake to the undercity's struggles. In fact the entire undercity is full of Jinx's, people who crave violence and chaos who begin to have an unstoppable rage against topside. Jinx is the person who had the guts to look topside in the face and declare war, a revolution to cut off Marie Antoinette's head. Of course in that moment for Jinx it probably was not a statement it was an act of hate, an act of passion, an act of rebirth.

Jinx is a symbol because of her defiance (killing the counselors) but somebody was going to have to do it eventually. Jinx is every top-siders worst stereotype about people from the undercity personified, but of course she is she's a mentally unstable person raised in a society that would rather pretend she does not exist rather than stopping this cycle of poverty and insanity. Of course she's a stereotype in a government that's done barely anything to support her or her sister. And the thing is it was never about Jinx, well it is but not really. Jinx is a name for the monster, a face to make the people raise their pitchforks and burn the entire coven. Jinx is the image not the movement. The biggest issue with the undercity isn't that the people are naturally disturbed it's that they're trapped in an endless cycle of suffering that ultimately leads to mentally unwell people.

Classism is such a big subject when it comes to arcane that I feel as if some fans refuse to acknowledge in a way that says something other than "oh yeah the under city is poor how sad". So many people talk about how you shouldn't compare trauma but it's objectively clear how class effects how people handle trauma. One of the biggest examples is Powder and Vi's parents death vs Caitlyn's mom dying. A line that sticks with me is during the first episode of season two when Vi says she watched the enforcers kill her parents and that Caitlyn has no idea how that feels then Caitlyn says she does because she's sounds so genuine when she says this but she doesn't at all. When Jinx killed Caitlyn's mom she was allowed to hate Jinx, allowed to hate the people of the undercity and nobody ever tries to justify her mother's death. Vi doesn't have that luxury she can't afford to not like the enforcers, she's not allowed to not like them because "they're a symbol of justice" sure they killed her parents but these are the supposed good guys! Vi isn't allowed to express her grief for her parents because the same people who killed them are the same people supposed to protect them, she can't afford to not like people from top side because "they're the good guys the civilized one's among a sea of beasts" sure they made mistakes and sure those mistakes get people from the undercity killed but still "We're the good guys"

Caitlyn claims that Vi can show people that not all of Zaun supports Jinx which feels wrong especially since Jinx shot that rocket with absolutely nobody supporting her. People supported Silco and that they should fight but in that moment that killed Cait's mom it was only Jinx. Yet for Caitlyn it's not Us vs Jinx, it's Us vs The undercity, she even tells Vi that she thought Vi was on their side. Not the side of justice the side of piltover because all it took for Caitlyn to hate the undercity was one bad person. That's what it took to make her see these people as inhumane and lesser than the people of piltover. Caitlyn and Jinx are parallels and I think the only difference between them that isn't just class is that; somebody gave a name to Powder's monster.

[twst-hottest-takes]

So, I’d say I’m someone who really likes Malleus. I enjoy seeing him pop up in events and the main story, and I’ll go out of my way to enjoy fanart and fanfics about him. BUT at the same time I’m his biggest hater, call me a Leona kinnie because as far as I’m concerned that’s my nemesis fr fr.

Seriously though, while I genuinely like Malleus, I also have a lot of grievances with the way his character is written and utilized whenever he shows up. For a while I had trouble pin pointing what exactly my grievances were, but it JUST hit me.

I was scrolling through some fanart I have saved on Pinterest(my Twisted Wonderland fanart treasure trove) and I REALIZED that all my favorite pieces of Malleus art featured him being emotional and/or really expressive; something we don’t get to see him be all that much, especially not in the main story.

And that’s my problem with Malleus, he’s not nearly as reactive as I want him to be, especially not when compared to the other characters. When it comes to Malleus, there isn’t a lot that can get under his skin and bother him, which is fine on paper but the way it’s executed means that most of his reactions to strange situations - ones that would have any other character panicking - are blunt and subdued.

And, of course, the reason he’s like this is because of ginormous power gap between him and literally everyone else in the world.

Why does Malleus not panic when the VDC stadium is destroyed? When Vil is turned into an old man? When ANYTHING bad happens? Because he can fix it instantly with magic, he’ll even comment on how easy it was. Even without magic we know that Malleus is physically super strong by virtue of being a dragon.

And it’s not just the big stuff, at this point I’m scared that Malleus’ next birthday card vignette will just be him immediately making himself look perfect with magic. Because of his incredible power, I feel like I’m missing out on a more messy, uncomposed side of him.

Like I just want to see this guy realize he forgot to set an alarm last night and he’s late for first period.

However, I’ll admit that this way of characterizing Malleus does have its upsides. That scene in Book Seven when we Malleus yells about the Senate and his Grandmother telling him what Lilia did for him??? PEAK, NO NOTES, BEST MOMENT IN BOOK SEVEN AS FAR AS IM CONCERNED, and I’m not certain it would’ve hit as hard if we DIDN’T have to slog through Malleus’ boring reactions thus far.

All of this is to say that when we finally get to fight OB Malleus and we get to see his backstory, I NEED to see him snap I NEED to see him panic and yell and cry and lost his composurE PLEASE YANA PLEASE.

And if they want to have their vaguely Grim shaped OB monster pose ANY sort fo a threat they better nerf Malleus HARD. Not just magically I need him to be physically weakened please. If this happens the birds will sing, the flowers will bloom, an angel will gets its wings etc

We've been hitting the nail on the head with these Malleus takes lately.

As anon said, he's had his upsides and moments and hopefully with the game moving towards the end (plz?) of Book 7 we can see more of Malleus' emotional range. . .gosh I hope so. Please nerf him. He can't keep being this powerful, if it always effects the weather it's no wonder he's emotionally stunted! BRING THIS MAN DOWN TO OUR LEVEL! (Or at least direct his rage at something worth smiting.)

I can only say, "Malleus is too important for his own good," so many times before it gets stale, but that's the issue in essence. So powerful, noble birth, such status, dragon, very dignified *Wow*. So trying to get him on the level where we really relate to and understand him as a person is awfully difficult for this game apparently. He's not the only character who suffers from the "can't have his image compromised because reasons" thing, but I digress. Malleus does have some fun and silly moments, but there's a lot more potential with him that's yet to be explored. I know that it's not impossible to have a character so far removed from average who can still be endearing and relatable, but the game just hasn't done that with Malleus. His otherworldly aura and pressence makes it hard to think of him as a person, which is very intentional; however, it puts him on this pedestal and has been written into a corner that doesn't allow his character to breathe. It's why he needs friendships like with the MC to help "humanize" him. That's something which the game doesn't do enough of.

Thank you for your take.

[schizopositivity]

Hey, could I ask what coping skills you use to help with hallucinations and such?

I’m not diagnosed with anything yet so I’m not on any meds. And my coping skills aren’t very good.

I usually just use music and try to ignore things to the best of my ability. That helps with a lot of the more usual auditory hallucinations. Walls and floors moving are…hard. But I typically just reach out to feel them (and hope I’m not having tactile hallucinations too and don’t feel that move)

But things like feeling bugs on my skin. Or hearing disturbing things (screaming, loud extremely negative internal voices / intrusive thoughts, etc) I don’t really know how to deal with? And I was wondering you’d have any tips? The internet isn’t very helpful and I was wondering if someone else who experiences this stuff too might have some better suggestions!

Thanks!

My biggest coping skills are distracting myself from the hallucinations, and trying to ease my emotional reactions to them.

Music is great, but it can't really drown out the auditory hallucinations. In my experience listening to a YouTube video, watching a show/movie, listening to an audiobook or talking to someone is more helpful. These things require my attention, and for me to think about what I'm hearing, that way I'm not focusing on or thinking about the hallucinations.

I am a fan of the "putting your hands on the walls to feel that they are actually steady" trick. I've talked about it a long time ago on this blog, since I have experienced moving walls and floors a lot. I think it also is a very grounding experience. If you are hallucinating it can be very helpful to use a fidget toy or something else that is pleasing to touch (dry rice, sand, rocks, soft blankets, etc). It shifts your focus to something that is real, that you can feel and be comforted by.

For the other, maybe more distressing hallucinations, it can be very helpful to distract yourself. Consciously shifting your focus away from the hallucinations and onto something you enjoy. This can be a hobby like drawing or crocheting. Or something relaxing like watching your favorite TV show, or going on a walk. This won't actually stop the hallucinations themselves, but it will keep you engaged with something else, which can help you ignore the hallucinations.

In my experience, spending a lot of time focusing on and thinking about the hallucinations can make things worse (as in feel more severe, not change the amount of hallucinations). Luckily I have spent years coping with the hallucinations, to the point where now I can experience them and immediately move on, which is way less stressful for me. And that was a skill I learned after a lot of practice, and I'm glad I did. It won't be easy at first, but I do believe that it is possible to eventually ignore hallucinations to the point that they are just mildly annoying.

Also since you aren't getting treatment for the root of the issue (the hallucinations), the best thing you can do is try and treat your emotional reaction to them at home. This can be any self care activity that works for you. This will be personalized to you but it can be things like cuddling your pet, taking a bath, reading a book, applying makeup, baking your favorite sweets, making a cup of tea, calling a friend, etc. If you want more ideas you can turn to the internet but look for "self care ideas" or "ways to destress at home". Because hallucinations can be very distressing, and it's important to care for yourself during and after the experience. These things can overlap with the distraction techniques, either way it's getting your mind off of the hallucinations and onto things you enjoy.

I hope you find a way to make the hallucinations more manageable, and take care of yourself. Your comfort is the most important thing when it comes to hallucinations. It is always worth it to invest your time into self care and relaxation.

[eccentricgrace]

Howl, Talk, Scream || IronDad

summary: tony rescues him, he does, he always will. but he's never quick enough, and this time-- someone has sewn his kid's lips shut.

tags: peter parker whump, hurt/comfort, mentions of kidnapping, protective tony stark, peter is okay!!

wc: 1953

⚠️tw: needles, sutures/stitches, gross medical stuff

cross-posted to wattpad by the same name!

Tony doesn't think this part of the job ever gets easier.

He gets used to most of it, see; the racing heart, the ache in his bones that never seems to go away, the threats he sees in very dark corner of a room. A rush of adrenaline that fades to crushing lungs. You'd think that was the biggest hurdle. Tony thought that would be the biggest hurdle, too, back in 2007, back when the sound of his phone going off had him choking in gulps of air between bile, back when the dark of his room after a nightmare would have him stop breathing all together.

Miraculously, he did get used to it, and then he got used to it all over again, but this time it was worse. It was worse because then Pepper's right there holding his hand after every nightmare, and Rhodey's visiting almost every day to bully him into taking his stupid SSRIs, and Happy's dropping by with some five dollar cheeseburger every other week "just because", and suddenly— suddenly he realizes. For the first time in his life, he has something worse to lose than himself.

Nobody ever comes out of a life like this without getting used to it. There's no other way to survive.

And yet. And yet.

Moments like these.

The part of the job that never gets easier.

The aftermath, of course. Tony's never prepared for the aftermath of it. He's never had to be, before all of this. He's had to take a stabilizing breath before entering a room before, but never because he was afraid to see—

Well.

The kid got himself into some hot water again. These days, this has proven to be the number one cause of Tony's tachycardiac increase. It was horrible, the whole process of it, like it always was— realizing he never made it home, scrambling to find him, praying when they found him he wouldn't be...

But they did find him, because Tony wouldn't let himself fail with something so colossally as important as keeping Peter Parker safe and be able to live with himself afterwards, the only issue is that he just— he just wasn't fast enough.

On a paper passed in the quinjet, he wrote in shaky writing:

they didn't like how much i talked

Peter's in the med bay, and he's bruised to high heavens, a wild look in his eyes that sets all the nurses on high alert. He hasn't spoken in hours. This doesn't mean he hasn't tried.

He clearly has tried, actually. Torn skin and dried blood coating the entire bottom half of his face, all the way down his neck. Tony feels sick at the thought.

"We just need to remove the stitches," the doctor says calmly. Gloved hands hold scissors in one, tweezers in the other. She stands a safe distance away. "Okay? Nod yes if you can understand me."

Peter— Peter's shaking. His eyes don't leave the doctor's hands, and his whole body is strung as tight as a bow. His fists clench.

"Peter," Tony's voice cracks. He clears his throat, avoiding his eyes. Takes another deep breath, and then summons all his courage to look his kid in the eyes. He's already looking back, holding so much trust and terror in his panicked gaze. 

Tony swallows thickly and shifts his chair closer. He'd been trying to give the doctors the space they need to fix this, to make it better where he couldn't, but he doesn't give a shit now. He can't, not when Peter's looking at him like that.

"We need to get those off your mouth," Tony says, wincing, because just the acknowledgement of the current situation feels so heavy. He feels like he's being crushed. "We need to know happened, if you're okay, we can't do that if you can't talk to us."

Peter looks like he wants to open his mouth. His lips twitch, but are firmly held in place by the shoddy sutures. He shudders, looks back at the doctor, then back at Tony.

The doctor takes a step forward, and immediately Peter's neck snaps back over to her. His breathing becomes frantic, his nostrils flaring to compensate for the lack of oxygen. A panicked series of muffled noises comes tumbling from his lips, and blood drips down his chin as the slight movement tears further at the stitched skin.

"Hey, woah," Tony stands up, putting himself between Peter and the doctor. She has already taken several steps back, her arms raised in the air, her expression soaked in guilt. "Okay, easy. Let's take it easy."

He turns to Peter, bending his knees to look at him better. Reflexively, a hand reaches for Peter's knee, and he pats it in comfort. "You're okay, right? I won't let anyone hurt you, I've got you now. I'm not letting you out of my sight. You can trust me, can't you? Breathe, kiddo."

Peter nods quickly, forcing himself to slow the breaths his nose was rushing to take. He blinks furiously, and tears trail down and wash lines of blood away. It's horrific. Tony wants to sit very quietly and cry for a very long time. He wants different blood to be on his hands.

"Mr. Stark," the doctor says meekly. "Might I suggest you remove the stitches instead? It should be fairly simple to remove, it doesn't look like they even did it properly..."

"Yes. Thank God for that," Tony grits out dangerously. He exhales shakily and looks back at his kid. "What do you say, kid? Can you nod, if that's alright with you?"

Peter looks at him for a long moment, his teary eyes glassy in the white lights of the medical bay. He slowly, cautiously, nods.

"Okay," Tony says. He takes a moment to solidify himself, his arms, his legs, all the parts that have been more or less liquid since he's carried Peter in here, since he's stopped carding a hand through his sweaty, blood-matter hair.

He locks away the wildness in his chest, the paternal beast that cringes and cries at the thought of touching Peter's wounds with his own hands, being the reason he winces, being the source of his pain if even for a moment.

Peter's trusting him. He keeps that running through him like saline on an IV drip. Peter's trusting him. He's in pain, he's trusting you to fix it, so fix it.

Tony pulls gloves on, takes the tools from the doctor. He approaches Peter carefully, and keeps his face neutral. He hopes it's more comforting than the look of a doctor who keeps glancing at clenched fists with sweat on her brow.

Peter's still shaking. Marvelously, he blinks a few times, and then closes his eyes tightly, and Tony feels his entire heart clench in his chest. It seems like such a simple thing. So, so, simple. But Tony's been on the other side of the room, watching needles or what have you with that kind of terror, and the last thing he could think of doing would be to sacrifice his most valuable sensory input.

Tony doesn't know how, doesn't know what he did to deserve this kind of innocent all-forward trust, but he looks at Peter, trembling in his fear, his eyes clenched shut and his chin jutted out, and Tony swears by everything holy that he'll protect it with his life.

"Do you want me to talk to you while I work?" Tony says quietly, sitting down in front of him.

Peter takes a second, and then nods.

"Okay." Tony steels his gaze, taking in the work. Fishing line, maybe, or something just as crude, sewn in one uneven, messy, tight line of stitches across his kid's bloodied lips. His stomach turns. "I'm gonna start on the left, your left, and I'm going to use tweezers, okay? You feel metal, that's just tweezers. Nothing sharp."

Peter nods once, just to show he understands, and goes still. Tony takes it as permission. He moves carefully, picking at the loosest bit of the stitch he can find, which ironically is a knot tied at the edge of his mouth. He pokes at it with the tweezers and Peter flinches.

"Just tweezers," Tony reminds him, keeping his voice level. It's a miracle he isn't shaking like a leaf. "Little cold, nothing scary."

He pulls it up a little, and grimaces at the sight of it, the whole grisly thing. "Alright, Peter, you're going to hear the scissors, but they're not anywhere near you. I just want you to hear the sound."

Tony waits for another nod, and then lifts the scissors up. He snips them once, twice, a few more times, until Peter's flinches become less as jolting.

"Are you okay?" Tony checks in. Peter nods.

"Okay, I'm going to snip the thread," Tony says. "It'll be just like last time. You won't feel anything. You're just gonna hear the scissors, remember? Do you want me to count down?"

Peter hesitates, and then shakes his head.

"Alright." Tony pulls back again at the stitch. He holds his breath, and then snips it with the scissors. With the knot gone, tension goes immediately lack, and Peter's shoulders drop.

"We're almost done," Tony cheers weakly. His eyes are misty, and it's so, so hard to keep the cracks out of his voice. He's trying. He's trying, for Peter. "Good boy. We're almost done. Few more snips. It'll be way easier now."

He tugs at the middle of the line, it easily becoming loose. Peter shivers, his face curling in displeasure.

"Yeah, I bet that doesn't feel good," Tony tries lightly. "Okay, you're gonna hear the scissors again."

He pulls up the line with the tweezers, and another snip. With that, he's able to pull half of the thread out of his goddamn mouth. Halfway there. Halfway. Blood trickles from the open wounds.

"Okay, other side now," Tony continues. There's a waver in his tone this time, sneaking out before he can calm it. "You okay still?"

Peter doesn't move. He keeps his jaw clenched and just breathes, and Tony remains still until he's ready. After a minute, Peter nods again.

Tony pulls at the other knot, and snips it, and then quickly pulls the thread completely out, and drops both the tweezers and the scissors to the side with a shaky breath of relief.

He blinks and he has an armful of teenager, Peter's arms wrapped around his waist so tightly Tony struggles to breathe in. Tony welcomes the feeling, just grateful that Peter is feeling strong enough to do so in the first place.

All the while, Tony's smoothing out his hair, he's petting at his back, squeezing his shoulders, saying, "I've got you. Jesus. Never again. You're okay. You're okay. We're okay."

Tears drip down his cheek, fine, he wasn't strong enough to keep them at bay. None of it matters anymore. The only thing that matters is the kid, and he's right here, and Tony's right here, and it's all going to be fine.

"I knew you'd save me," is the first thing Peter says, all blubbery and snot-covered all over Tony's nice shirt, and he really shouldn't be speaking yet at all. Blood is trickling from his mouth. His voice is very clearly hoarse.

"Of course," Tony repeats, over and over and over. "Always. Every time. Any time. God, kid."

Because yes, he'll save Peter for as long as he can still breathe. Longer, if he's able. He's done it countless times already.

It's always the hardest part of a job that matters the most, even if it never gets easier.

[starzzmissthesun]

The OC long post is here!!!!

Ok, to start this off, their story isn't completely worked out yet, but all of the important stuff is! Also, big thanks to @rowses and @thebearsthings for brainstorming with me!=DDD Also, they are the BIGGEST unreliable narrator, seeing as they barely remember their past, and have some perception vs reality issues. Im referring to my character as The Vampire(though they are not the only one) and the one who turned them and was their partner Their Lover. This is cause we dont know their names!! Also im referring to them both in gender neutral terms because The Vampire doesnt know much about Their Lover(nothing at all really) and they don't know that about themself(which ill get into later)

This will have talk of graphic violence and cuts/blood, and the vampirism is sort of a metaphor for sexual assault.

First and foremost, they are a vampire who travels as a bounty hunter. They get paid for killing the person, and that's how they feed. They are from the south, no particular time period, just before a time of internet. In being turned, they lost and forgot their entire identity, their name, gender, memories, and their lover, The reasons why will all be explained throughout. Bottom line, they're a mystery to themself.

Lets talk about the before, and how they got turned. For the years before, they were living in this beautiful Victorian home with their lover, that their lover "inherited" from distant relatives. In their mind, this relationship was perfect; soft touches, watching the sunset, kisses before a goodbye. (It was not, as a friend said "toxic yaoi (gender neutral)") Then, a kiss on the neck turned to teeth sunk deep. They started to feel drowsy, dizzy. (ill make a post about how i think vampires work if you want) They collapse to the floor as blood starts running down and their lover has betrayed them, after all this time. They almost jump to see if their lover is okay when they cut deep into their own wrist, but stops when the blood from that wrist is drained into their own mouth. They wake up in the dark, everything's too loud. They are covered in blood and alone. Alone in their own mind, too. As they walk around trying to figure out anything, they pick up notepads with dates written down and shorthand notes, little trinkets scattered around the house, a picture of them and their lover (?) but their faces are turned away. They run to find the closest mirror, but nobodies in it, nothings there. When they decide to leave the house, they stop in the pool of blood to see a ring sitting in the middle, the same on their lovers hand in the picture.

This is the only finished art I have of them rn->

This is right after they were bit, that's their lover in the mirror (not really there obviously). They wake up with bleached hair, but as time goes on they try to go to their natural colour in hopes of being themselves, but really get further always from their starting point. They do this with a lot of the "clues" they were given, they just take them so wrong and end up even more unhappy. They can't even look in a mirror to see them self, or get close enough to ask someone.

They figure out how being a vampire works, need to eat so they bounty hunt for money for places to stay in, the cowboy gettup allows them to cover their skin in the harsh sun. They never stop moving, they just keep going and going. They usually take cases that might lead them to their lover. They just want to know. They need to know why they would turn them into this, why they would throw away their lives together, why they would leave, what were they like, what The Vampire was like. They can not and will never be able to know more about themself because they will always be looking outwardly and in the past. They mourn their old self and idolize them, want to be them. Their loss of self will never be gained back, for they will never think "but what do i wanna be called, what gender do i feel like, what hair do i want to have?" because they are too busy looking for clues of what they used to be, what theyre "supposed" to be. They look at themself from before as a cookie cutter they must fit into.

They will never be able to have a happy ending for this reason, they are a tragedy. They look for their lost lover in others, every relationship they get into ends on strange terms and each is wildly different. They are somewhere else, always kind of absent for these people. They try so hard to be normal, to find these relationships, but there's always an ever present "What if?" What if my lover liked this? What if I wore my hair like that? What if they also drank their coffee this way? What if x kind of person was my type? What if I dressed this way? They will always be dissatisfied, because in their story (not the aus ill probably make for character exploration:\) they never find their lover, they never find out what they used to be like, or any of their history outside of nightmares and deja vu.

They travel the land, hoping motel to motel, kill to kill, lover to lover, NEVER in relief, always under tension. They feel their past self hovering behind them guarding, watching, judging. The only thing pushing them forward is the hope that theyll one day find Their Lover. When times get tough, they look to that same ring that left a permanent bruise on them, being twirled between their fingers.

Gonna definitely add to this later, and PLEASE ask questions or comments or anything, they drive me up the walls!!!!!!!

[lycandrophile]

I cannot thank you enough for your posts about top surgery. I'm hoping to get mine in a couple years. Your updates are really comforting to me, even (maybe especially) the bad stuff because it makes me feel more prepared. I hope your recovery keeps going well!

On another note, how did you decide whether to keep your nipples or not? I like how chests look with and without them, so it's hard to choose

for me there were a few factors that led me to go nipless:

the biggest thing was that when i imagined my body post-op, i naturally always saw it without nipples. that was just what felt right when i thought about how it would look — i didn’t even have to think about it, that’s just what came to mind. i figured, if i’m automatically picturing myself like that, that’s probably a good indication of what i would be happiest with.

i’ve also always had sensory issues related to my nipples. i basically wore a sports bra constantly, including when i slept, because i hated the feeling of loose fabric touching them and moving against them. so if i had kept my nipples, i would’ve ended up with either no sensation or more discomfort, not anything positive.

i really didn’t want to deal with the healing process for nipple grafts. my skin is super sensitive and finicky, so if anyone would be almost guaranteed to have problems with graft healing, god only knows it would be me. i also know i’m more prone to infection than most people, so avoiding the part of the surgery that has the highest chance of infection seemed like a good plan. on top of all that, i’m also a huge baby about having to touch any sort of injury on my body (just putting moisturizer on my mostly healed incisions was something i had to work up to), so i knew doing the graft care would be difficult for me too.

i know that i can be super picky about the way things look, especially when it comes to things like spacing and symmetry. so if i had gotten nipple grafts, i think it’s super likely that i would’ve ended up feeling like they were put in the wrong place or being bothered by any asymmetry in how they healed. obviously i wanted to pick the kind of surgery that was the most likely to give me results i would be fully satisfied with, so getting grafts despite knowing i’d probably end up nitpicking them for years to come just seemed silly.

i honestly really love the idea of having a chest that’s visibly different from a typical cis man’s chest. the goal of my transition has never been to look cis and i take a lot of pride in being recognizably trans, so having a kind of surgery that isn’t just trying to imitate what i would look like if i were cis was really appealing to me.

going without grafts is just cheaper, so given all of the other reasons i didn’t want grafts, there was just no reason for me to spend extra money on them. i want a few extra hundred dollars in my bank account way more than i want nipples.

and in hindsight, i genuinely couldn’t be happier with my decision. when i look at my chest, even now while it’s still not fully healed, it looks just like how i always imagined i would look with a flat chest and feels like the most natural thing in the world.

if you’re having trouble deciding which you like better, i would try just closing your eyes and imagining both on your body. this was one thing i did if i saw someone with grafts whose results i really liked and felt uncertain in my decision, because what i always ended up realizing was that no matter how good they looked on other people, it felt super weird imagining them on myself. in fact, most of the time i struggled to really even picture it at all.

you could also try gathering a bunch of pictures of both types of results and seeing how you feel about all of them. maybe when you look at the results with grafts, there’s only a few that you feel like you would be dissatisfied with, but when you look at results without grafts, there are a lot more that you probably wouldn’t want. or maybe it’s the other way around. like i said, you’re going to want to go with the kind of surgery you’re mostly likely to be happy with, so if you seem to be more critical of one kind of surgery’s results than the other, that can help guide your choice.

and if you really don’t feel any differently about them, consider the other factors: how do you feel about the healing process? is sensation in your nipples something you find pleasure in and would consider trying to preserve? what does the difference in cost look like for you and how important is that to you? how important is it to be able to pass as cis if necessary? and so on. your decision might end up being made based on something other than pure aesthetics and that’s totally okay.

[aurora-daily]

Aurora: “We have this golden opportunity to truly understand each other beyond religions, cultures and how we look, but we choose to fuel our fear against each other”

An interview with AURORA for Hot Press by Riccardo Dwyer (June 24th, 2024)

There’s an ineffable air of Teutonic mysticism surrounding Aurora Aksnes – an Aurora-aura, if you will. Raised in a small municipality near Bergen, Norway, her elfish appearance, rare humour and all-round quirkiness have led some to cast the 27-year-old as a kind of Nordic folklore character turned chart clambering sensation.

Perhaps this hyperborean categorisation is deepened by her appearances on Frozen soundtracks and John Lewis Christmas ads, as well as a fan-made Wiki site which contains enough hyper-linked lore to make the creators of Skyrim blush.

It’s easy to see why Aurora’s attracted so many dedicated Warriors and Weirdos (her affectionate label for her fanbase). In addition to her one-of-a-kind comportment, she’s released three glorious, genre-meandering albums which artfully zero in on some of life’s biggest quandaries – from inner conflicts to questions about a deity.

Her fourth opus, as anyone shrewd enough to spot the mentions of ‘Blood’, ‘Skin’ and ‘Mind’ in the singles leading up to the project will know, suggests a thematic direction towards us, mere Homo Sapiens.

“With every album there’s one specific thing that really inspires and intrigues me,” Aurora acknowledges. “This time, it’s man’s relationship to man. It’s all about your relationship to your own organs, and how you listen to what they’re trying to tell you, especially the heart. I’ve been reading a lot about the history of anatomy and the abilities we give each organ, and how that varies depending on the era and country.”

The title of the LP is at once a statement and an enquiry – a cry for civility in a world seemingly devoid of compassion and a marker of the artist’s own anatomical reflections. It’s probably best to let Aurora explain all that good stuff though. So, then, What Happened To The Heart?

“That is the question,” she nods. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot. I’m very overwhelmed by the state of the world. We have this golden opportunity to truly understand each other beyond religions, cultures and how we look, but we choose to fuel our fear against each other. We’ve been given the chance to be connected more than ever, but we fail to connect in the right places.”

The golden opportunity for connection – the internet, and more specifically social media – is central to the rampant evaporation of love.

“When I was younger and the internet first came about, I remember trying to understand what it could mean for people,” says Aurora. “None of that happened. Porn and gaming happened instead. We haven’t really made it as far as we all might have expected.

“We see and hear each other, but we don’t feel each other with our hearts. We still let these heart-breaking things happen, we’re watching people in Palestine lose their lives for no reason. We should be on a path forward to a peaceful world, but it seems like we’re heading in the opposite direction.”

This, Aurora suggests, is a result of our human tendencies being exploited by the binary overlords.

“We talk into echo chambers in real life, because we surround ourselves with people who are similar to us, so we don’t often get challenged,” she reflects. “Then we have the internet, which is based on algorithms, so we end up in echo chambers there as well. It’s like the world doesn’t want us to learn from anyone else with a different opinion or to interact with people who oppose us, and that’s something that really scares me.”

UNITY AND LOVE

The issue of climate justice also permeates the record. The origins of What Happened To The Heart? are in fact rooted in environmentalism, after a call to change led Aurora to pose the record’s titular question.

“Indigenous leaders of the world joined together and wrote a letter, ‘We Are the Earth’, basically pleading with leaders of the mass-produced world to lead more with their hearts and less with their minds,” she explains. “The way we live is so heartless and cruel. We take whenever we can. And if we’re not forced to apologise or pay for it, we won’t.

“We will gladly let the people of the future pay for what we’re doing now. And we will gladly let someone far away pay for the clothes we wear, or the food we eat. We know that things are wrong, but we still just go along with it. That’s how the world is today. It’s a weird dynamic to live in as a human, because I don’t know what else I can say. It blows my mind to realise how deep our issues lie.”

Aurora is evidently passionate and well-informed. Does she see it as an artist’s responsibility to weigh in on issues of social justice?

“Well, scientists have tried to warn us about global warming for 50 years and nobody has listened,” she points out. “Leaders of the world don’t want to change their ways because it won’t benefit them. They want to have money now and to not have to think about the world later.

“Sadly, it’s come to the point that artists and musicians, as individuals who connect people, have to deliver the important messages. You have to reach out and appeal to the masses, and artists are the best at doing that – at engaging people and riling them up around unity and love, rather than fear and hatred.”

EIGHT BIG THEMES

She acknowledges her own role in what’s often a ‘mass-produced’ music industry.

“You can talk to companies who do things right, or to people who have a minimal carbon footprint,” she says, “but that’s not where your words are needed. It’s good when you’re part of an industry that has a lot to be better in. There’s more room for the things say to make a difference, instead of talking the same shit to people who know it already.”

What Happened To The Heart? holds up sonically too. It’s rife with romantic melodies, expansive synthscapes and arena-ready choruses, punctuated by Aurora’s distinct, soaring vocals – which have drawn comparisons to both Enya and Björk. However, Aurora finds it difficult to assess her own music.

“I don’t really see it when I’m in it,” she says. “I see it later, when I hear it. I don’t like listening to my own music. I would rather eat a baby.”

They must have some tasty infants in Norway, I laugh – the songs really do sound good.

“This album has a huge range,” she admits. “It’s been extremely fun to play around with, because I wanted it to symbolise both lyrically and sonically a process of pain – and the two paths you can choose, self-destruction or self-healing. With humans, it seems that pain often inspires more pain – hurt people hurt people.

“I see all of my music as being a really clear extension of me, and I think that’s really showing in the production. It starts really soft and spiritual, and then it ends on a really hard and human note. It’s going to be fun to sing live. I’m shitting myself with excitement.”

Using that phrase as a gauge of excitement rather than fear is indicative of Aurora’s uniqueness. She goes against the grain in most facets of her artistry, even imposing a Tarantino-style limit on her creative output. Strictly committed to releasing no more than eight albums, the decision tracks back to her early days as a musician.

“I started writing songs when I was about nine,” she says. “Songwriting was beginning to give me a new sense of meaning in life and made me feel better than anything else I had ever touched or let touch me, and I just had a moment thinking, ‘Oh my God, there’s so much I could write about. What do I want to say?’

“I remember taking it really seriously and writing down a map of all the things I want to say, and there were roughly eight big themes that I wanted to approach.

“First up was The Demons. The Warrior was chapter two and then chapter three was God. Now we’re at The Human, but yeah, there’s eight things and I’ve said four of them. It’s going well so far.”

[eyesxxyou]

hey!! i just realized i messaged you in the wrong way lol!!

but it would be so cute if you did hobie brown x plus size!f reader. reader struggling with body issues and hobie just being the best boyfriend and just comforts reader by giving them many kisses and cuddles!! and uhh it can go the other way direction lol

*ೃ˚ :💿 hobie x plus size!reader

❝ warnings ❞ self deprecating talk, self-image issues, Hobie being a loving boyfriend

You never understood why Hobie chose you of all people. He was tall, lean, skinny, and undeniably handsome. He had a smirk that could make panties drop, his mannerisms attracted everyone, make them feel as though he's known them for years. Being seen by Hobie meant feeling like the most special person in the world and if he passed you over, there must be something wrong with you because he could see something great about anyone.

But why did he choose you? When he could have his choice of anyone in the world, he chose the biggest person in the room, with your rolls, your pudge, your excess flesh that made stretch marks appear in your skin. The wrong angle could show off your double chin. You felt like a pig in a pearl necklace every time you got ready in the morning. There was nothing attractive about you in your eyes.

But Hobie was always there in the morning with an arm wrapped around your large frame and his body pressed to yours like it wasn't disgusting. He grabbed at your flesh when kissing you and pulled you closer like you weren't twice his size and weight. He wanted you on top of him all the time despite all your protests.

"Come sit on ma lap, luv." Hobie slapped his thigh before opening his arms to accept you. You'd think after all this time, you'd stop worrying about crushing him, but when you weighed as much as you do compared to him, it was always a worry to you.

You shook your head, brushing it off with a smile even though all you wanted to do was to fall into his lap and cuddle with him. You even shuffle away from him on the couch. "I'm okay, Hobes."

Hobie grabs you anyway, dragging you onto his lap with a grunt that makes your heart squeeze. He adjusts himself to better hold you, arms wrapped around you and squeeze you tight to keep you on top of him so you don't run away. He placed his head on your chest and sighed with something of peace.

But you can't help but to think you're crushing him, that the sigh was more of one of strain. You lips purse and your bottom lip trembles, before you know it, you're crying and you don't even really know why.

Hobie doesn't notice until he hears you sniffle from above and looks up to see tears streaking your round cheeks. He reachs up with one of his large hands and begins to wipe you tears. "Lovie, wha's wrong?"

"This, Hobie!" You motion to the two of you, "this is what's wrong! You're obviously struggling to hold me and I can't for the life of me understand why you keep putting up with this!" You let out something of a choked sob. "Why do you want me? I'm a pig." You muttered, sniffling some more while Hobie caresses your cheeks with his hands and wipes your tears with his thumbs.

He pulls you in close and peppers kisses to your wet face, still wiping tears as they fall. "Aww, dove," he cooed softly. "Ya no' a pig, you gotta stop puttin' yaself down like tha'. 'N so wha' if I struggle t' hold'ja sometimes? I wan'cha 'cause you deserve love too. I wan'cha cuz I think you're beautiful. I wan'cha cuz every inch of ya is just more of ya to love on. Stop sayin' stuff like tha'. It gets ya nowhere but upset and frustrated. Now…lemme hold ya, dove." He pulls you in more and places a kiss on your full lips.

"So you don't think I'm ugly?" You asked between sniffles and you laid your head on his shoulder and looked up at him.

Hobie chuckled softly, still kissing your cheeks. "No, lovie, I think you're beautiful 'n if I have to start tellin' ya every second of the day, I will. Nothing could make me stop lovin' ya. If ya lost weight, gained weight, stayed jus' the same. You're so so gorgeous, my love." His lips were so tender against your cheeks.

You closed your eyes and felt his love.

[sunny-mercya]

Flushed Red

Eustass Kid x Male Reader

Fandom -> One Piece

Masterlist

Eustass “Captain” Kid—as part of the Worst Generation and the Eleven Supernovas—is a name to be remembered and a pirate to be feared, after all he's ruthless and mercilessly towards anyone who stumbles through his path and believes they're superior than him.

Honestly, a much better and on point description of Kid is, that he's actually just a big hothead—easily to anger, anger issues are the biggest flex trait in his personality, with the simplest things—with lost of stubbornness and a love for rowdy destructions—or at least these are the words you have used to describe Kid to your friends, after you had introduced him to them.

Kid who had never felt any shame or embarrassment before—why should he even, when there's pride to show off and pure intimidation to scare off and make people scam—but when Kid and his crew clothes had been switched to these, skimpy outfits, felt for once the embarrassment.

Or more like, first it had been anger—which rose quickly in him, ready to smash something—but when you, with the Strawhats, had been walking down the bridge, the embarrassment pools into his stomach like a flood.

In his sole defence—glaring at Killer when he had let out a cough of amusement—Kid was only embarrassed, because you, when you and the Strawhats had been walking down the bridge, had seeing him in these clothes—and than your damned smile, when skipping happily towards him and greeting him with a hug, clinging onto him like a Koala, just fuels the that embarrassment more.

Giving Kid, so shamelessly, in front of everyone of everyone a big smooch to his cheek, you exclaimed »You look really cute Kid!«

»You know, maybe you should wear this to bed sometimes soon! Makes you real sexy and I wouldn't mind to be conquered by you again, hot stuff.« and another kiss, this time on the lips.

»[Name]!?« Nami and Sanji's shout of your name were the loudest, because, even though they knew Kid and you are a couple, they're shocked to hear something like this out of your innocent mouth—then Nami, with a murderous glare, turns to Sanji and slaps him against the head, berating him how he's at fault for your foul language.

»Haa?! Oi! [Nickname]! What ya mean with this!?« oh, but Luffy was screaming—confused with what you meant, although given Kid a compliment to his new outfit as well.

Robin and Killer found pure amusement in this situation, Zoro muttering something under his breath, Usopp look likes crying, Chopper just like Kid himself looked embarrassed and Franky, Brook and Jinbei had this disapproving parental glance towards Kid

The anger rose, like a sparked match, in your boyfriend within minutes—you could tell, with the way how his non-metal arm, which holds you in place so you wouldn't fall off from him—given the size difference between the two of you—tightens around you and how his face goes into a scowl.

You whine, Kid has different sorts of anger and the upcoming anger is something you never really liked, it's so overwhelming and sometimes scary, to witness from your boyfriend.

»All of you! Sh Shut up!« snaps Kid, face so flushed red now it could rival his hair, frustration clear in his voice as he couldn't smash something to get his steam out—he would have, but pushed it down out of consideration towards you.

When setting you back down, Kid takes a good look at you—your current outfit to be exact, which makes his scowl deepen even more.

»Oi! Chibi! What are you wearing?«

»You like it? Nami-chan has picked it out for me. It suits me really well, doesn't it? I really think so!« you beamed at Kid, showcasing your outfit more to your boyfriend.

Kid licks over his lips, clenching his metal fist—glaring at Nami, who takes immediately cover behind Robin, couldn't believe this girl friend of yours had the courage to dress you up like this—wanted to disagree with you, finding your outfit not pleasant at all.

It's too skin revealing—exposed legs and thighs, naked stomach and bare shoulders, collarbone visible and chest a bit open for show—for Kid's liking, setting off jealousy and his possessiveness towards you.

Damn, what you currently wearing makes you a target for hungry eyes and Kid wished nothing more to scoop you up in his arms, just to block off the world views from you, because no one is allowed to look at your naked skin besides Kid himself.

Feeling something soft and warm being placed on your shoulders, you looked up at Kid—who had turned his head away, scowl had gone into a slight pout and the red flush on his cheeks had deepen once more—smiling at him, you let yourself fall backwards against Kid's chest and Kid, without looking your way, catches you with his good arm.

»Ne, Kid?« he hums in acknowledgement, waiting for you to continue whatever you're about to say next.

»Do your best! I believe in you, you're the strongest!«

»Shut up.«

[berrypass-de-murdler]

2 - 28 Banking on Murder

Me getting too excited when I get to write an episode with my babi chonkers in it

Anyway Irratino changes his outfit every book, and I've just settled on his Spurdle design :3 lemme know what you think!

DON'T READ THE EPISODES WITHOUT READING THE BOOKS!!

Logico and Irratino are chilling back home.

IRRATINO: Yearly million! LOGICO: What? IRRATINO: Every year, the Institute holds its million-dollar giveaway to anyone who can prove the occult! I’m withdrawing it now, then we can pick it up and hold the contest!

Logico rolls his eye. Irratino has a stupid amount of money. Goat Lord clicks around on the bank website and gets a pop-up.

IRRATINO: Service denied? Wh- SENDING ASSISTANCE?

He immediately gets a phone call.

PERSON: Fucked-up stuff is going on in your bank account, Mr. Inspector. I demand to speak to you! LOGICO: Oh, who’s that. IRRATINO: Uh… haheheh! Uh… LOGICO: Being rich causing… ⋆˚｡⁺⋆issues?~

Irratino does the biggest sheepish grin. They have to go to the bank right now. When they get there, the person who called Irratino is dead.

IRRATINO: Oh, thank god! Ha ha! 

Logico glares at him.

IRRATINO: I mean yeah. Murder time.

Chalk, Mango, and Emerald are wandering, being some of the richest people alive. Wonder what they’re here for?

EMERALD: I can tell you what I’m here for. LOGICO: Murder? EMERALD: N- LOGICO: Then I’m not interested.

It seems Mango is occupied printing fake money (with mustaches on the presidents!). He is snickering to himself as he watches the bills fly.

LOGICO: Feeling mature, I see. MANGO: EW, Logico. Go do something else, like solve a MURDER. LOGICO: That’s what I AM DOING. IRRATINO: Do you know who I’m supposed to talk to about the money thing? CHALK: [‘I don’t know’-adjacent llama sound]

Everything in the bank is so shiny, because banks are made out of money! Emerald is distracted by every detail, and Logico catches him hanging upside-down from a chandelier.

LOGICO: Excuse me? EMERALD: [wraaack?] LOGICO: Are you trying to steal crystals from the chandelier? EMERALD: No! 

He flies around in a frenzy, whacking Logico in the face. Gico decides to lie.

LOGICO: If you tell me the truth about what you saw, I’ll pretend I never saw you. EMERALD: You would do that… for me? All right… I saw a laptop under ownership of one that people tend to call… CHONKERS. CHALK: [scream] [nervous laugh] Hi!

Irratino gets a lightbulb idea!

IRRATINO: Logico! I just realized something obvious! LOGICO: Hooray. IRRATINO: We can hack into the security footage, and see who did it!  LOGICO: Can’t I solve it myself?

Unfortunately, there’s only footage from the vaults. Chalk is inside!

LOGICO: The bastard! Doesn’t he have enough money?

But no, he’s playing around on his laptop. There are some video game sound effects.

GAME: OBJECTION!!

Chalk giggles and claps. I don’t think he’s interested in what’s in the vault. When shown the footage, he cries.

CHALK: I just wanted a place to play my game… where no one would judge me.

Logico sighs. The only one who retains a guilty conscience is… the mango!

MANGO: That’s correct! LOGICO: You see, Irratino, there is no other way! IRRATINO: Pfft. I knew that in my gut the whole time. LOGICO: Sure you did. IRRATINO: Doesn’t matter, there’s no doubt about it - Mango is peeled! MANGO: EW! Are you saying I deserve to be SKINNED? CHALK: Irratino, that’s horrible! EMERALD: Even if he did this murder, there is nothing warranting that language! LOGICO: Yes, even I think that’s a bit- IRRATINO: All RIGHT I’m SORRY!!! Jesus. MANGO: For the glory of God, murder is permissible! LOGICO: What religion do you even follow??

The end!

nfjnjvkgfdkgbg my llama boi i can't

also to my UK pals BOOK 4 IS OUTTTTTTT I still gotta wait lol

US release date for the board game has changed from Oct 1 to 'soon' hhhhhhhhhh

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!