#the ending isnt NEARLY AS BAD

[luck-of-the-drawings]

"I think this is the most inhuman; and human, that I've ever felt.." MUCH CAN HAPPEN IN A YEAR. IN FIVE YEARS. A DECADE. imagine how much can happen in a century. just ONE (1). How will you grow? what phases do you find? even in 5 years, you will find patterns.

[zip-toonz]

Fell down a rabbit hole hard over the past 3 days. Made a Viva Pinata OC after watching a few episodes of the Show

[pickapea]

my absolutely biggest online pet peeve is US centric people projecting their rich sorority girl bully stereotype of nurses onto everyone else, as if nurses aren't working class and mostly immigrants of colour everywhere else. and when did it become cool to hate on underpaid and exploited workers anyway

[ana-rends]

i would rather live with ana for the rest of my life than binge like this ever again

[orcelito]

I think I cried harder today over my dad's jackets than I did at his deathbed. That was a miserable time of course, a memory that will likely be seared into my brain until I die, but I cried... I think a normal amount, all things considered. More than I ever usually do of course, but I typically don't cry At All. All this free crying is certainly surreal.

The jackets, though. I was put in charge of doing his laundry, because we don't want to pack up dirty clothes. I was expecting it to be unpleasant bc my dad's dirty clothes - gross. But really, it was much more unpleasant in that... those were his. It felt wrong to touch them. Felt wrong to treat his jackets as gross. Because they were just his jackets. They weren't even in the hamper. And then I was remembering him wearing them, and then I was crying. Again. And again. Weeping over these damn jackets.

Then I found a shirt on his bed that still smelled like him. It smelled like a Hug From Dad. And that set me off crying even harder.

In total, I think I cried like 6 times within 40 minutes. It took me that long to finish sorting the damn clothes bc I just. Was a wreck. Like, what are you supposed to do when you're living life like normal, vaguely hopeful bc you're taking steps to secure your own happiness, and then 4 days later you're sorting your dad's laundry because he fucking died. Suddenly. Without a goodbye.

And you have to worry about his lack of a will (even under an ideal situation, only 2 heirs and no conflicts between us, probate's a fucking Bitch), and arranging the funeral, and prepping his obituary, and picking out pictures, and writing a speech bc you want to talk at his funeral, of Course you want to talk at his funeral, but even just thinking about anecdotes you could share has you crying yet again.

I've cried more times in the past 3 days than likely the entirety of last YEAR. And that's WITH my cat, and uncle, and family friend dying. Those all hurt, my uncle most of all, & I was real fucked up over it. But this? This was my Dad. Likely the person I'd have named 2nd closest to me in my life, second only to my sister. He wasn't perfect, but he did so much for me throughout my entire life. All he wanted was to raise us to be happy and independent. And he accomplished it, we're getting by without him, but we still wanted several more decades with him. He was only 57. We should've gotten several more decades with him.

But here we are now. Playing investigators to his life, digging into all his shit, trying to find documents and take inventory of all his things, and learning Many things about him in the process. In his lockbox of sensitive documents, like his SSN and birth certificate and all that stuff, we found an old letter. About a decade old now, written in my hand. Right at the very top, we found that he'd kept the letter I wrote to him telling him frankly about my struggles and the things I wanted him to do better. He kept it. He tried to take it to heart. He looked at it again, sometime more recently than all the rest of the documents. That was on top.

His love for us is evident everywhere. The pictures he has hanging up all over the place, majority of them with us in them. The old fathers day cards placed on display in his bedroom bookshelf. The gifts we gave him, even stupid little knick knacks, placed around his apartment with pride. I wish we'd taken more videos of him. I don't want to forget the sound of his voice. I don't want to forget his smell either, the smell of a Hug From Dad, but I still tossed that shirt into the wash even though it felt like saying yet another goodbye.

It's the suddenness that hurts the most, I think. We were planning on having him help me finally get my license this year. My final words to him, the last thing he would've seen from me, were messages asking up on whether he'd called his car insurance company to make sure there wouldn't be problems. I should've called him more. I don't know if I'm going to learn from this.

I cut my 2 weeks off early to have time to grieve and to work on things for the funeral and settling the estate. The last thing I'd wanna do right now is selling fucking bubble tea in a job I already decided to leave. So here I am without a job, though with potentially two life insurance policy payouts to come. Inheriting half his 401k. Inheriting couches, knickknacks, keepsakes, paintings, art pieces, maybe even his guitar and other furniture if we can figure out what to do about space (I don't have room for this furniture, I don't know if I even have room for the couches, but God do I want to keep so much of this furniture). It has me even considering keeping one of his guns, just one. A tiny little revolver, it sits so comfortably in my hand. I don't even want to use it for anything. I just want to have it, keep it stored in a drawer with its ammo kept separate. I don't like guns, but this is a part of him. He loved collecting guns. He was about as responsible with them as someone can be, keeping them locked in a lockbox and impressing upon his children the importance of gun safety (I've known the basic gun safety rules ever since I was a little kid. Of course, of course, of course.) It reminds me of him. It's horrifically easy to have a gun in Indiana. I apparently don't even need a permit to carry anymore. (I have no intention to ever carry this in public.)

It's all a cycle. Business, grief, thoughts about my future. Round and round, like the most nauseating carousel in existence. I don't know how I'm still so functional. My skills with compartmentalization have been my lifesaver.

And im just thinking about the story my dad's best friend shared today. About a friend of theirs who lost her father. She reached out after hearing about my dad to share his words with her: "it's okay to grieve, but don't make his death your life".

He explicitly referenced himself in this, saying if he were to die suddenly that he wouldn't want us to define ourselves by it. Grief is expected, but he wants us to be able to move on. He's always wanted us to establish ourselves and make ourselves happy. He wouldn't want to be a weight holding us back from that.

So every time I start to feel guilty for thinking about having nicer furniture or using his life insurance payout to fund the rest of my college, I remind myself of that. Thinking about the material isn't a bad thing. I'm only human. And in the end, he'd Want me to be thinking about it. He never intended to die, certainly not without warning like this, so he would've only encouraged me being pragmatic about it all.

He only ever wanted us to be happy. So I need to do what I can to live up to that.

I love him. I miss him already.

[master-gatherer]

Ngl I see "bioware magic" and my blood pressure shoots up like ten points

[california-112]

Schrödinger's Question

Teen And Up Audiences | Graphic Descriptions Of Violence | Gen | English

Fandom: The X-Files

Characters: Dana Scully, Fox Mulder (Mentioned)

Additional Tags: Episode: s04e24 Gethsemane, Episode: s05e01-02 Redux (X-Files), Implied/Referenced Suicide, Cancer Arc (X-Files), Angst, Introspection, No Dialogue, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Suicidal Thoughts

Summary:

She preferred being able to think that he was just asleep, even though he never slept; that he was just out, although he had nowhere to go; that he just couldn't hear her knocking from the bedroom that he didn't use. She preferred to wait for a bit, rubbing her thumb along the jagged edge of his door key until it almost bit her, before turning and leaving the box unopened. Taking a pill and sleeping until morning, when she didn't remember the pain of the previous night until Mulder called her to say that he was downstairs with coffee, and would he have to drink it for her? And by then, all that didn't matter, because he was there, warm as the Styrofoam cup he handed her and suit just as crinkly when she suddenly gripped his sleeve, needing to be sure he was really inside it. -or- Scully has a lot to do in the day following Mulder's suicide. That night, she finally gets a chance to process everything. A slight AU of the Gethsemane/Redux transition. SPOILERS FOR S04E24 'GETHSEMANE' AND S05E01 'REDUX'

Link to AO3

[three-o-clock-things]

yknow i complain a lot about not having enough money but then i find out how much my coworkers have and... maybe i'm doing fine actually

[nururu]

I bought that choso sweater thinking the site was legit but it was some phishing scam site that stole someone else's design... anyways I started a case with PayPal like immediately after I realized what happened. wasn't even expecting the sweater to come but it did. was expecting it to be shit quality but it's actually.... nicer than the legit original one...... and PayPal also refunded me for the purchase... lmao hehehahahahohoho

[puppetlooselystrung]

everything still sucks but in my darkest time of need i can always count on getting distracted by being emotional about my fucked up sun/moon comedy/tragedy themed fallen aasimar warlock vienna who so clearly is a manifestation and a representation of my beautiful princess disorder which makes me look like this for the next half an hour

[eph3merall]

dealer!chris n innocent!bff!reader who eventually have sex ...

☆ . . . chris is so so sweet <3 gently coaxes you into believing that it's okay. that it wont ruin your guys' friendship at all, even though he knows once he hits he'll want to come right back. he'll be damned if he lets his best friend go fuck some other guy.

☆ . . . chris ends up taking your virginity when hes high. you were slightly tipsy from a few drinks, crawling all over his lap and giggling like some puppy. he couldn't exactly help the hard-on he got, y'know? hes a man. you couldnt blame him.

☆ . . . the two of you were just talking, truthfully. after chris had finally managed to get you to loosen up a little you were so smiley and squirmy, accidentally rubbing against his cock without even realizing. tipsy giggles left your lips every second he said something, his mind feeling all fuzzy and not quite there.

☆ . . . the topic of sex came up. chris isnt sure how, or why. "you've never been fucked?" "no..? s'that a problem?." "no, no.. jus', you're missin' out." chris is chuckling and staring at you like he wants to devour you, and you completely miss it. "m'parents always told me to wait until marriage" and he nearly starts cooing at you with how adorable you sound, tugging you closer as his hands cup your cheeks.

☆ . . . fast forward and he's lazily grinding up against you with his hands planted firmly on your hips to help you roll them against his clothed dick. "ohh, i know.. feels good? huh?" the prettiest little whines are sounding from your lips that have been bitten raw, eyes glancing down to where you repeatedly hump against your best friend. "chris..." his name sounds so good in that whiny tone, said in a low mewl as you grasp at his shoulders.

☆ . . . you dont know fully why you feel like this, all hot and eager for chris to continue helping you rut against him. then again, it isn't all sunshines and rainbows for him either. chris is fighting back the urge to bust in his pants, holding you close and letting your body move slowly on its own.

☆ . . . soon enough, he's breathing heavy as his cock strains against his jeans. staring at your nervous face as you tug your panties down and he has to stop himself from grabbing you and sitting you down on his dick until his tip hits your cervix. he knows it'll hurt. and chris just happens to be so kind to his best friend, he's letting you sit down in his lap with both of your legs thrown across his.

☆ . . . your head leans back, his chin resting on top of your head as he sinks his middle finger into your cunt. "fuck, oh.. look at you. s'cute, baby" "chris.." you just sound so pathetic to him, as he hushed you gently. his other hand is wrapped around your stomach, holding you close and keeping your thrashing to a minimum.

☆ . . . your gasp turns into a moan when chris eases another finger in, the squelching sound of your own cunt echoing in your ears—making heat spread up your neck to your face. it just feels so... weird. your hips twitched gently and yoh didn't miss the chuckle that sounded from your best friends mouth, his free hand sliding up gently to squeeze at your tits.

☆ . . . when you start shifting around more and your hand grabs at chris' wrist to try and slow the sensations down, he knows you're close. a soft hush comes from him as he continues with his ministrations, ignoring the way you whine and cry about how you feel weird. "jus' let it happen. s'not a bad thing, baby.. c'mon, cum for me. theere you go" the wave of pleasure that washes over you is almost heavenly, your body tensing then going slack a few seconds after, lips parted in heavy gasps of air.

☆ . . . you think you would be done honestly, until chris is tapping the side of your hip with two of his fingers. "up, c'mon. gotta help me now" and when you shakily lift yourself up from his lap, you hear the sound of a belt buckle and fabric being slid off skin. chris' hands are looping around your stomach gently to pull you back—ordering you gently to close your eyes. "trust me, i got you. you trust me, right?"

☆ . . . of course you trust chris.. which is why your eyes fall shut—letting the brunette pull you back and sink you down slowly onto his dick. except your eyes fly open the second his tip is nudging into your entrance, a shaky gasp falling from you as your hands grip at his wrists. "chris.. that—that hurts, y'know." except he ignores you, clicking his tongue in his mouth and slowly sinking you down further. maybe he should've stretched you out a little more, but god, he was so hard to the point it hurt.

☆ . . . once chris is fully sheathed inside you, he lets you adjust for as long as you need. he knows he's big, and he knows you've never had sex. you were gulping in big gasps of air like you were dying, even though it was fine... chris' hands rub comfortingly up and down your sides, rolling his eyes at how dramatic you were. "s'kay kid.. stop doin' that," "no, i feel full..."

☆ . . . when chris was finally able to move without you throwing a fit over how much it hurt or something, he's thrusting up gently and cursing under his breath. you've turned around just so you could hide your head in his shoulder if needed, and you do—burying your head into the crook of his neck and letting his hair tickle your skin.

☆ . . . chris isn't sure how long it's been but when you squeeze around him he knows you're cumming without you having to say it, and he almost busts his own load right then and there. biting down on his lower lip, he urges you off him when he's sure your orgasm had washed over you—shoving your shoulders down to get you on your knees between his legs.

☆ . . . chris knows you aren't on birth control or anything, so he opts for a quick lesson teaching you how to bob your head up and down his length until he cums over your pretty lil' face. surprisingly, for someone who's never sucked dick before, you were damn good at it. fitting whatever you could in your mouth and then wrapping your hands around whatever else was left, just like chris had told you.

☆ . . . he isn't the best at aftercare. you guys took a shower and he seemed so awkward, because normally the girl he just banged would be out the door in a few minutes. but you're his best friend, so he just pats the bed and you two watch a movie or something. cuddling always felt too intimate for him, never been one to initiate it or entertain it.

☆ . . . you don't complain much. sure, it would've been nice. well, it would've been really nice, but you were a little too scared to ask chris to hold you like you guys were dating. were you two dating now? probably not. you've never really seen chris with the same girl for more than three days straight, and he's told you a bunch how he hates labels. huh. so why is that pit of longing still stuck in your chest?

—

ur girl wrote this with a vicious nosebleed. i lowk need to write for matt more so some stuff for him is comin soon hopefully !!! after i finish all the reqs i got tho

@conspiracy-ash @sturniolosfavkayleigh @lvrsturniolo @st7rnioioss @meatballlover10 @ashlishes @ferdzom @55sturn @chriseatingmeoutin4k @unknvhx

©eph3merall 2024

[usoppssketchbook]

This is kind of what I was talking about with that art I recently posted. Usopp’s fighting style since the timeskip leans heavily on the pop greens. They are powerful, and he can handle stronger enemies than he used to because of them, but at the same time they’ve become a crutch for him. The weapons are powerful, not him or the way he uses them. It seems like he’s become less inclined to use his head and skills to win, and more likely to charge into situations headfirst, the same way he used to criticize Luffy and Zoro for doing. In the case of Sugar and Trebol, this resulted in getting his ass beat and only winning on a fluke**. 

Usopp has the might of pop greens behind him now, but they're not what make him strong. In a fight, Usopp's greatest strengths have always been his quick thinking and creativity. I want him in a situation that takes all his tricks, cunning, and inventiveness to survive, a situation where he can't lean on just his plants or some powerful weapon like Kuro Kabuto to get things done. I know it's never gonna happen because using your brains strategy isn't how you become a Strong Honorable Man™ in One Piece, but I really want Usopp's character growth to be about accepting himself, and for that acceptance to include using his own kind of strength to win, not capitulating to One Piece’s worship of head on battle. I want him to come out the other side of that fight with the understanding that he doesn't need to be like Luffy or Zoro or the giants to be strong, that he doesn’t have to be like his dad, that he doesn’t have to jump into every situation guns blazing or live completely without fear to be a brave warrior. 

**credit where credit is due, he did follow this up with an epic shot and psychological warfare tactics, which I loved

Edit 11/27/2024: I would like to formally rescind my statement about the plants and Usopp’s way of fighting post time skip. I do miss his old weapons, and wish he would bring them out alongside the pop greens or show off his inventive genius, but the plants are resourceful and creative weapons in their own right. They are not a crutch, but another sign of Usopp’s ingenuity.

I think that when I wrote this post I was feeling especially frustrated with how little screen time Oda gives Usopp, and conflated it a bit with Oda’s tendency to have Nami use Thunderbolt Tempo over… literally any other attack.

usopp likes to tinker, and make things, and invent things that improve himself and his skills and the fact that about absolutely NONE of that shines through in his design, fighting style, or skills, is bullshit. usopp is tactical and smart and i would classify as the best guy to make a strategy in any situation and the fact that this trait of his seems to have been replaced with the plants thing is shit to me

the tactician aspect of usopp is what should have been delved into further, it is the character development that usopp needs to come to terms with, that he’ll never be strong like luffy or zoro but he will always win against them because he is smarter than them and more clever then they are, that maybe he won’t be a “man” in the way he feels his father was, but he’ll be strong of heart, morals, and skills

like the plants thing is cool but it’s also bullshit because it’s an entirely new trait rather then expanding on a pre established trait like the rest of the got to do during the timeskip.

[machveil]

I blame you for my Simon brainrot, so have this:

Simon smitten with someone who is a complete nerd, just an absolute geek. Plays D&D, reads way too much, wears glasses (I double blame you for this) and dorky shirts and socks, etc. Him just sitting there listening to them ramble about something he has no clue about and then later on him referencing back because you cant tell me he isnt actually paying attention even if he doesnt have a vested personal interest in it.

I’ll happily take responsibility for Simon Riley brainrot lol

Simon Riley is absolutely smitten with Nerd!Reader - it doesn’t matter what fascinates you, he’s taken. anime, manga, comics? tell him about it. music, video games, movies? play something for him. are you into Dungeons and Dragons? he’ll listen to you explain everything - show him your dice, tell him about all the classes, spells, monsters

Simon Riley adores your glasses - prescription or not. thick frames? metal? plastic? functional or fashionable? he can’t stop looking at your face. if you do have prescription lenses you can convince Simon to try them on. they’re a little small sitting on the crooked bridge of his nose, he blinks once before handing them back, “Prefer my reading glasses.”. but if you wear his reading glasses? he’s nearly drooling, they look so charming on you - in fact, why don’t you just keep ‘em?

Simon Riley will soak in whatever you tell him. be careful talking to him about stuff you want, if you mention a certain pair of pretty dice or a new volume of your favorite series it’ll end up in your hands, cost be damned. if something is really expensive Simon will lie through his teeth so you don’t feel bad, “Was on sale, love, don’t worry. Hm? Exclusive release? Don’t know about that.”

Simon Riley, the big, hulking man he is, can be talked into cosplaying for you. he might roll his eyes, but he’s biting back a smile when you mention he would look good dressed as a certain character from a series you love. when October rolls around you might just come home to find Simon standing in the doorframe to your bedroom, dressed in oh so familiar clothes, “This what you wanted, lovie?”

Simon Riley that, even though he’s dead silent listening to you, can repeat everything you’ve said back to him. he might forget smaller details - the color of a character’s clothes, the way to specifically pronounce a name, but he remembers your favorite chapters and episodes, the class you play and your lucky dice. he might even surprise you when he talks about things you didn’t tell him, “Hm? Oh, jus’ did some light readin’ on it, nothin’ special.”

[gammija]

you know that post about how addiction isnt the only way to read Jon's journey in s4, there's also a reading where it's about what you're willing and ethically allowed to do to live (and several readings can coexist)-

it reminded of an older reading i havent seen around in a bit; that cynical lens, about what you do when you realize you're part of a system that benefits you only on the back of other people's suffering. Not the only or the best reading, but i did want to share it for people who might not have seen it before

So there's a way of gaining power that's maybe always been with humanity, but perfected by rich british men in the 1700s and 1800s. they made it into a science. the system has been used for centuries, by old rich families, organized religion, the police. And you, a young british man, have been set up to benefit from it nearly from birth, without knowing, without your consent.

And that doesn't mean it's kind to you; it will gladly feed on you if you don't play by its rules... but. play by its rules, and it will give you power.

This system only functions by the suffering of others. by the time you really truly understand what it's doing, it's unfathomable that you could break free from it. your well-being depends on it, the lives of the people you care about are shaped around it. so you perpetuate it. to live with it, you tell yourself; that it's really not so bad as it seems; that the hurt you cause is not in your control; that it's justified because you will use this power for the better; that you're not a bad person because while you harm these people just as much as the real monsters, you feel bad about it, and that has to mean something... right?

Eventually these powers cause the end of the world. the realization sets in that there is never a way to do good with this system, no matter who uses it or who is in charge: it must be destroyed entirely. but by this point in the story it's so interwoven with the world that destroying it causes terrible collateral damage - or you look away; once again; pass the consequences on, to people you will never meet.

[jesuistrestriste]

ohhh sageee i hath returnedddd, forgive me if this isnt that coherent, im extremely tired.

so, im thinkin about puppy!reader and puppy!art going on a playdate that their owners, Tashi and Patrick, set up for them. (i call Tashi, dear lorddd i need her to own me so damn bad🙏😩) anyways, as planned, it ends up with the two pups gettin too needy and usin each other. honestly im really just beggin to be bred and knotted by art

sageeEEE <3

tashi's always got you on such a short leash too (sometimes literally), so it's so hard to contain yourself when you meet art !! you get all warm and fuzzy at the smell of him and the sight of his pretty blonde curls.

art, on the other hand, is playful and kind and excitable and very much not disciplined by patrick. like, at all. but he's generally a good boy so pat doesn't actually feel the need to do much. the one thing he should have taught art not to do, though, is hump everything in sight.

so when patrick brings art over to tashi's, he's beaming as he springs out to greet you—rubbing his nose into your neck and breathing in the smell of your pheromones and everything there is to know and like about you. patrick plops down on the couch next to your owner, and she gives a soft tug on your collar when art begins to try to roll his hips up against yours.

a pout on your lips is all the resistance tashi gets from you before you back away and art is called over by patrick.

half an hour goes by, both you and art sitting on the ground in front of tashi and patrick respectively, and then the two make the mistake of deciding to leave their puppies alone in favor of going out to grab more wine.

another half hour passes, and when the two brunettes return to the home, they get so surprised by the sight they see when they walk in that they nearly drop the two bottles of sauvignon blanc !

art's got you trapped between his body and the luxurious rug laid out on the hardwood floor, rutting into your sticky body without a care in the world. he can't help it, and neither can you. it was foolish, really, for tashi and pat to have left you two alone together and not expect a scene like this one to come as a consequence. neither of you are even grounded enough to notice them watching.

your slick is all over the floor, dripping down from your hole as you bite into art's shoulder. he whines out and then tenses all over just as a current of white-hot pleasure rips through him and you.

his knot swells, locking him deep inside you as he pants and writhes and humps his spilling load into your cunt. your back arches up and you nearly yelp as the stretch from the knot aches within your soft walls, but it's painfully good. ten more seconds of both of you riding out your highs is all that is needed for you to snap back to your senses and lift your head up enough to spot the two slightly-amused owners peering down at the mess from the doorway.

art's still too gone to even move; continuously jolting his hips as his come continues to breed you.

tashi considers shooing the two boys out the door so that she can get you alone and spank you as punishment, and patrick almost considers doing the same to art, but they both silently agree with just a look to each other that the feeling of being uncomfortably knot-locked for the foreseeable future will be enough for the both of you to learn your lesson. hopefully.

[loverseon]

the things we were made to be | l.hs TEASER

pairing addict! heeseung x fem reader

genre angst, exes au

synopsis after everything that happens, you feel like you'll never be clean again. heeseung still thinks you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

word count 0.16k words for this teaser, full fic around 12k

warnings this gets heavy, abusive parenting / violence, substance abuse, addiction, toxic relationships, self-doubt / hatred, seung does love reader he's just really fcking bad at executing it, happy ending

— please please read the warnings properly! this isnt my regular lovey dovey cute fic these are actual real life problems i wanted to convey in fictional format. that being said pls lmk what u think of this one !!!!!! i love u

If anyone asked, you’d tell them you hate the rain.

You’d whine about the way it slithers and curls down your skin and gets everywhere, how it clouds the sky in an eternal grey mist, how the constant, dull noise rings deaf in your ears for hours.

You’d say you hated the downpour because of how it makes you feel — sodden and gloomy, like the clothes are too heavy on your back and your shoes are uncomfortable and wet, your body covered in slinking trails that seemingly never dry.

Rooms become too humid, so much so that your throat always seems to close up and your eyes fog and your head feels funny.

Rain can be hot or cold, and when it’s cold it’s cold, but when it’s hot it’s still wet and lingering on your skin all the same.

You hate how weighed down and exhausted the rain makes you feel.

And, if anyone asked, you think you’d say the same thing about Lee Heeseung.

+ full fic is nearly fully written! i jus need to revise a few things but im thinking like mid september :P

©loverseon do not repost or claim