#the faking sick one

[heroictoonz]

Wip wednesday!! Sicktmeber? edition (sorta...) [LMK SEASON 5 SPOILERS!!]

“And what about you, young monkey?”  MK looked back up at Xiangliu. “Huh?” “What brings you back to your mother’s temple?”  MK frowned. “She’s not my mom. She’s just… a lady… who created me.” He crossed his arms. “Look man, if anything, the rock is my mom!”  Xiangliu chuckled. “Whatever you say, Xiaotian. But that does not answer my question.”  MK looked away from the beast. His gaze resting gently on everything it touched as he examined the room around him. The walls of paintings, the gold and jade jeweled treasures, finally landing on the statue of Nuwa.  He was almost impressed with how it looked exactly like her. He wondered if the temple was man made or not. He noticed how the older something was made to depict one of the immortals the closer to their actual likeness it was. Things that were made more recently seemed to have a lot more creative liberties to them. He supposed that was just how things like that went.  He turned back to Xiangliu but didn’t look at him. Instead opting to look down at the shards of vase, kicking them back towards the pile of things. “I dunno…” he mumbled.  “You sure did put on a show to get here.” “Wha—?” Xiangliu sat up and gave an over exaggerated fake cough into his arm before throwing MK a knowing smirk.  “That’s not—that wasn’t—” MK frowned. “How the heck do you know about that? Have you been spying on me?!” MK’s fists clenched angrily.  Xiangliu held up his hands defensively. “Calm down, Xiaotian,” he spoke calmly. “I have much better things to do than constantly keep my eyes on you.”  The way he said ‘eyes’ and how the snakes that made up his hair seemed to look at MK at the word made the man wonder just how many of those eyes Xiangliu really could see out of.  MK shoved his hands into his pockets and gave another kick at the vase shards. “Coulda’ fooled me,” he bit back. He gave a big, dramatic roll of his eyes, letting his head move with them as if the action was heavy enough to move it along with. “You did so much watching after you woke me up!” His voice echoed through the halls as it grew louder. MK could only end his sentence with a glare to the beast.  To his credit, Xiangliu did look somewhat sheepish. He sighed, letting his feet fall back to the floor and taking a gentle step towards MK. “Xiaotian,” he spoke softly. “You must understand, I meant no ill will upon you with my actions.” He opened his arms and gave a grand smile. “I wanted to give you life! I wanted to give you a gift that not even Nuwa had planned to allow you! Give you life experience to make your own choices and in the end choose your own destiny. Not one that she-” he threw out an angry hand towards the statue that quietly listened to their conversation “-predetermined for you!” MK’s shoulders slumped visibly. He looked away from the other and he could no longer hide the sorrow from his eyes.  Xiangliu also dropped his hands, watching the expression on the other and matching his falter.  “I can’t help but think that… maybe I still made the wrong choice…”  Xiangliu frowned harder at that. Now a touch of frustration edging into his expression. “You are missing the point of this all,” he sighed. “Choices are not inherently right or wrong. A decision you make has much more behind it than good or bad. The experiences you had—the experiences I woke you for—guided your choices. You did not have black or white intentions as no one ever does. The human experience is so layered and detailed. Isn’t that wonderful?”  “Not if I’ve just doomed everyone all over again!” MK shouted.

[starlit-writer]

in sickness and in health, ch. 1 - alpha!simon riley x omega!reader

ah, look at that. have some omegaverse angst inspired by this post here <3 if you want to understand more about my omegaverse au, you can look at my masterpost here, and it'll help explain all of the intricacies that may or may not be explained well enough in these short-form fics!

well, this turned out to be miles longer than i expected it to. there's not really a solid ending, so let me know if you want more! have so much fun getting your heart ripped out <3

word count: 4,764 chapter two masterlist ao3 link

Three years ago, you and Simon got married. It wasn’t anything flashy or big - fuck, how could it have been when you didn’t even love each other? But, military law forbade an unmated omega from joining the ranks, and Simon was seen as a wild-card alpha, too headstrong and violent, too hard to control. So, the brass laid out an ultimatum: mate, get married, or be discharged. Both you and Simon had worked too hard for too long to get where you were, so discharge was entirely off the table. There was no courting, no dates, and the wedding, if you could call it that, was little more than signing papers - three signatures on a thick piece of A4 government paper, one from you, one from Simon, and one from your witness, Captain John Price. You didn’t even exchange rings or vows. It took less than five minutes. 

After all was said and done, you and Simon went back to your lives. Sure, you were respectful to one another, and you spent one or two heats and ruts together, but you both maintained a distance away from each other. Neither of you were thrilled with the idea of being tied down, of being mated. The mating bond between you felt more like the neck of a too-tight sweater than it did a comfort, feeling each other’s emotions more of a chore than something you looked forward to. Sure, you worked well together, fluid and deadly like a well oiled M2 on the field. Always had. But there was a stark difference between working well together, and being mated.

So that’s how you ended up here. You had lost twenty pounds. Your skin was sallow and pale, your eyes sunken in. When you looked in the mirror, you could count your ribs, the knobs of your spine, even when they were hidden under the bruises that bloomed across your sickly skin.

You had thrown yourself into work, and when there was no work, you were challenging any living thing to go for a round with you on the sparring mat. But, you were weak; the bond sickness sapped all of your energy and strength faster than you could ever hope to replenish it. Your scent, which was once a warm and spicy caramelized vanilla, now smelled like sugar burnt to the bottom of a pot - acrid and rotted. You were dying, and you knew it. But your pride was far too great to ever go crawling back to Simon, the very man who caused the sickness to infiltrate every cell of your being. It had been months of this torture. Simon, your alpha, had all but abandoned you. You had been without his touch, his scent, anything and everything that the very base instincts of your omega craved from its mate for far too long. It didn't matter to your omega that this marriage, this mating bond was nothing more than a way to keep both you and Simon in the service. Instincts couldn't be fought with fact, and now you were reaping the consequences of the neglect of the bond. You had thought bond sickness was a myth, a fear-mongering tactic to keep alphas in line. However, you were now aware that there was far more truth than you could have ever imagined to that story that is told. 

You had seen the concerned looks of your team as they watched you haunt the halls of the base like a spectre. Soap had started to bring you chocolates and drinks, anything in hopes to get you to eat. Gaz took a different approach, always being the one to take you up on your sparring requests, the beta knowing that at the very least he could be gentle with you while still giving you an outlet. The Captain had made sure to keep you off any truly strenuous missions and tasks, mainly relegating you to the medbay or to training recruits. If you were any stronger, you would be pissed, but right now you took it as a blessing. At least he hadn’t kicked you off the team for your weakness. But Simon? Simon was nowhere to be found. He continuously was the first volunteer for the most dangerous missions, keeping him away from base for weeks to months at a time. When he came back bloody and bruised, he would avoid the medbay like the plague, only coming in to get fixed up by another combat medic when he knew Soap or Gaz had forcefully pulled you away. If you two happened to be walking in the same hallway, Simon would duck out of your sight without even so much as a word. You had long since given up on running after him. 

So color yourself surprised when you were standing in front of the mirror in your bathroom and the screen of your phone lit up, a text from Simon blaring on the too-bright screen. You had every intention of ignoring it, but your pride was no match for the dying ache of your omega. 

Come to my quarters.

The text was simple. Demanding, even. And all it did was make you angry. 

You quickly tugged on a pair of sweats and forced a tank top over your bruised and feverish skin. You thought briefly for a moment about tugging a sweatshirt on over your mottled skin, but, fuck it, let him see all that he has done to you. Maybe he would give you the one blessing you had hoped for over the last few months of neglect, and finally sever the bond between you. 

You trudged through the hallways of the base, every soldier you passed giving you a wide berth. You were certain you looked like death froze over, and the rage-filled expression set over your brows and your lips certainly did not help. When you reached his door, you didn’t even bother to knock. You just shoved your copy of the key in the door and slammed the door open. 

Simon barely even looked up from where he was lounging on the bed. His shirt was off, a rare sight, even for you, but even more shocking was the fact that he wasn’t wearing his mask.  He didn’t look much better than you - his once-bronzed skin paled, his own scars raised and reddened, and he had a poorly bandaged bullet wound wrapped, the white medical wrapping blossoming with a red mark. Pulled stitches, definitely. 

“Close the door,” came the rough demand as his arms lazily opened in an invitation to lay with him. “And c’mere.”

You, in all of your rage, just stood stockstill in the still-open doorway. Even as your omega side cried to jump into his arms and let his scent and his touch wash away all the pain, you refused with a defiant jut of your chin. You didn’t know why he had called you here, and the only thing your mind could conjure up is that Price, or Laswell, or fuck, even Soap, had sat him down and forced him to do this. And you wanted nothing to do with this or with him if he actually was not trying to change.

“I don’t want your pity. And I sure as hell don’t want your affection just because Price told you that you had to fix me,” you replied, your voice shaking with weakness and pain, even as you tried your damndest to keep it steady, strong. 

Simon growled, the sound of an alpha not used to not getting his way, as he rolled onto his side to look at you more squarely. His arms were still open, but you could see the way his muscles clenched, his own anger rising. “It ain’t about pity. It’s about basic biology,” he bit out, the words short and angry. 

That made you laugh, the sound short and sardonic before it morphs into a cough that shakes your entire, frail being. You brought a shaking hand up to wipe your lips before you fixed him with a glare hard enough to freeze an ocean. “Basic biology?" you mocked. “Yeah, for sure. But it’s also basic biology to not let bond sickness even be a worry for your omega, but looks like you fucked that one right up, didn’t you!?”

Your words made something in Simon snap. Your rage, the vitriol, clenched his hands into fists as he quickly swung his powerful legs over the edge of the bed, crossing the space between you in the space between one of your breaths and the next. He was in your face now, just enough space between you to not be pressing completely against you. You averted your gaze, knowing that if you didn’t, you might continue yelling at him, or worse. 

“Look at me,” he ordered, using the same tone he does on the battlefield. His hands are still clenched into fists, but they are shaking. Why?

That tone made your eyes harden, the instincts of a hard-bred soldier kicking in. Even through the fraying of your bond, your sickness, you knew that voice. You listened when given an order. You allowed your head to loll back to look up at him, but your expression was still set in that same hard glare. You weren’t on a battlefield. You were on base, far away from the acrid explosions and hot gunpowder. How dare he pretend otherwise? “Why?” you bit back in response. “This isn’t some tactical decision, Simon. Don’t treat me like one of your fuckin’ rookies.” 

He took a sharp breath through his teeth, obviously trying to control himself. He knew you were weak, the bond sickness taking so much more from you than it ever did him. But your defiance, your spirit despite the bond sickness was making his alpha go crazy. Even with you glaring up at him, he stared down at you with fierce eyes as his hands gripped your hips, shoving you out of the doorway and pressing you against the wall right beside it. Taking one hand off of your hip, he shut the door with a resounding click before his grip, and his attention came back entirely to you. “I ain’t treatin’ you like a goddamned rookie,” he growled out, his cold brown gaze entirely focused on your own broken one as one hand slams into the wall by your head. Even through your rage, he can see it. Feel it. He had broken you. And that knowledge caused his alpha to writhe in pain. “I’m treatin’ ya like my fuckin’ omega.” 

As he caged you in, growled those words at you, your own expression hardened. Your lips curled up to reveal your smaller omega fangs, a low growl of your own reverberating from your chest as your hands clenched into fists. It’s hard to ignore the sheer size difference between the two of you as he towers over you, his head dipped low to keep your attention. However, that did nothing to stop your rage, in fact, it increased it tenfold. 

“Oh, right. I forgot. Being your omega means less than being one of your rookies, silly me.”

You knew the second the words left your mouth that you just opened a Pandora’s box. You saw it in the way his eyes instantaneously darkened, in the way his hand left the wall before you could even blink, his fingers crushing your jaw between them in a bruising grip, forcing your head back against the wall as he brought his face ever closer to yours. However, as his face got closer, you could see the glint of something else in his eyes. Triumph. His alpha was revelling in watching you snap and get fiery again. It was a victory, in his mind, to see you able to be so angry after the bond sickness had taken so much from you. “Watch it, sweetheart,” he muttered, his voice low and gruff. “I know that attitude of yours will always be there, but careful.”

His words sent another wave of anger through you, and as he forced your head back, you jerked your neck, snapping your teeth at him, your small omega fangs glinting in the low light of his quarters. It was a clear message. Fuck the bond sickness, he had no right to touch you right now. You did not forgive him, and he has to work to even begin to earn that, and if he won’t? You would dissolve the bond without him, whether or not it risked your life. 

“Don’t sweetheart me,” you growled out, glaring up at him even as the bruising grip of his fingers squished your cheeks together, slurring your words. “Not after everything.”

His alpha instincts flared again, the desire to force you into accepting his help clear as his eyes flashed in irritation at your anger. He pressed you further into the wall, his body now flush against yours as he snarled right back. “Then do something about it,” he challenged. “Get mad. Fight me. Let it all out. But, you’re not leaving this room until you let me fix this.”

As much as you hated it, hearing Simon’s permission gave you the ability to let it all out. No matter how much you wanted to pretend that you were unaffected by him, the knowledge that he wanted you to fight, wanted to fix this broken bond between you, allowed you to finally and truly get all of the anger out, and maybe, just maybe, give the bond a chance to heal. 

And so you did. Your body jerked against his, your sallow cheeks flushing red as you bared your omega fangs and growled at him again. Your eyes held the faintest spark of life, a far cry from what they used to have, but there’s something there now. 

When Simon saw that spark, the faintest hint of his omega coming back, he chuckled gruffly, his eyes glinting with a possessive heat. 

“Yes, spitfire. I want you t’ fight me. Hit me, scream, yell at me, tell me how shit of an alpha I’ve been. I don’t care. Just don’t. Hold. Back.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, the dam inside of you broke. Months worth of anger, agony, grief, pain, and aching sadness flooded your veins like a hot, volatile drug. It felt like a living, breathing thing as the emotions curled around your lungs, your muscles, your heart. Tears pushed at your lash line, the aching pain making itself known through the rage. 

You held his cold brown gaze for a moment, your eyes searching his. When all you saw in return was steely determination, you did the only thing you could think of. Before he could even move out of the way, you shut your eyes and cranked your head back as far as it would go, and drove your forehead straight into his nose. It wasn’t nearly hard enough to break it, but definitely hard enough to hurt and make the blood start flowing. 

He staggered back from you, his hands coming up to cup his nose, but the alpha was far from angry. In fact, he was grinning, the blood pouring from his nose coating his lips and teeth. A low growl of approval rumbled from his chest as he stared at you, approval glinting in his eyes. “Good girl,” he muttered lowly, the praise slipping through so naturally. 

As his praise washed over you, you felt your stomach flip. It shouldn’t feel that good. Not after the months and months of neglect so bad that you were literally dying. But, you couldn’t help the small ember of warmth that bloomed through your chest as that muttered praise of good girl flowed through your veins like a warm blanket settling over you. 

But, you were still angry. And hurt. And countless other emotions that you couldn’t even begin to name, all just culminating into a neverending ache. And as you saw the blood marring the plush flesh of his lower lip, something inside of you snapped. 

He had made his worst mistake. He had let go of you, and now you could truly fight. 

You crouched down, using your smaller stature and power legs to kick your leg out, and you swept it across the ground, knocking the much-bigger alpha off of his feet. You watched as his massive frame hit the ground, shaking the walls, a bloom of satisfaction erupting in your chest. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins now, the only thing allowing you to move, and before he had the chance to become reoriented, you were on top of him, straddling his hips as you punched at his chest. Your tears of anguish were falling freely now, sobs breaking free with your yells. 

“You have broken me! Broken! I used to be so strong, so happy, and you destroyed that! Ripped it away from me! All because you were too fucking caught up in your own shit, your own fucking fear, that you couldn’t even be half of the alpha you needed to be!”

Simon grunted in pain as his back collided with the cold, hard tile of his quarters, his hands automatically coming up to grab at your hips. Not to shove you off, no, but to keep you on top of him. He knew he deserved this. Every punch, every pointed word, every tear. It was his penance for all of the pain and agony he had put you through, even if it was ripping his heart to absolute shreds. 

“I know, I know,” he growled softly, his voice thick with regret. “I know I did.”

You shook your head, tears and snot flying from the force. You were so angry, so hurt, but the adrenaline was quickly running its course, leaving behind only bone-deep exhaustion and pain. Your punches slowly weakened, until you were barely able to lift your hands. Instead, they came to rest on his bare chest, your omega claws digging sharply into the thick muscle that covered his chest, one of your hands digging directly over his heart, needing him to feel a fraction of the agony that coursed through your own. 

“Don’t you agree with me! Don’t you dare! Gods, you do this to me for months, and you… you have nothing to say for yourself!? I tried! Tried to be a good spouse, a good omega! I tried to give you your space, to be unobtrusive, even though that killed my omega! And all I fuckin’ got in return is this fucking bond sickness that is killing me! Tearing me apart from the inside out!” 

His body shuddered as your claws dug into his chest, his skin breaking under the tiny points. It hurt in every way that it could, but the tiny pinpricks of blood that welled around your claws were nothing compared to how he had hurt you. He knew that he deserved this, every inch of your wrath, of your anger, and the pain it brought for him. It was the least he could do - to bear this for you. But, Gods, it didn’t stop your words from tearing into his heart in a way your claws couldn’t even begin to touch. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he repeated, his words thick with the guilt that was threatening to choke him. “And I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry.”

His apology broke what little strength you had left. The bond between you was fraying, seconds away from snapping completely, and you had never felt more lost. A sob broke free from your lips, the force of the sound causing your body to lurch forward. But, Simon was there. For once, he was there. His chest caught your head, your tears wetting his skin almost instantaneously as your claws scratched down his torso, leaving thin, raised red lines down his scarred skin. 

He hissed softly in response to the pain, but he made no attempt to move, to shy away from it. You had completely given up on your ego, your omega so desperate for your alpha, no matter what he had done. But, you were still so hurt, your omega so wounded that you had no idea how you were going to come back from this. 

“Just… just tell me why. Why did you do this? Why did you treat me like this?” you sobbed out into his chest, your sour, distressed omega pheromones wafting around him like a shroud of despair. 

His alpha writhed in pain at your scent. It was wrong, so, so wrong, but he had done this. His neglect, his apathy, had taken his once strong, ferocious omega and reduced her down to this. He had never seen you like this. And he never wanted to again. He could feel the bond between you slipping between his fingers like shards of glass digging into his very being, and fear rose to take its place. He wrapped his arms around you, cradling your tiny, trembling form against him, his nose burying into your hair as he pressed a featherlight, shaking kiss into it. He swallowed harshly against the lump in his throat, his heart clenching in fear. In pain. In anger at himself. “I was a coward, love.” 

You sobbed harder against his chest at his admission, shaking your head jerkily. Your body felt like it was freezing and burning up at the same time, as the frayed edges of the bond dug into you like poisonous thorns. You could feel your mind shattering, your heart stuttering as the bond sickness continued to take hold. You were dying, and you knew it. But at this point, you would almost take death over the amount of pain you were in. “That’s not a good excuse,” came your shaking reply, the words thick with tears and agony, but they were strong with conviction. “Tell me why, Simon. Tell me why, or break the godsdamned bond.” 

The words that left your lips felt like they were suffocating the alpha. Break the bond. His arms tightened around you until you were completely pressed against him, and he could feel every shudder, every quiver in your weakening body. A low growl rumbles from his chest, the sound full of pain but also a desperate desire to comfort. He had to try - to even attempt to explain, even if he wasn’t sure it would do anything. But the thought of losing you without even trying made his heart shatter, his alpha howl in protest. 

“Because I was afraid,” he murmured, his voice thick with regret and honesty as his knuckles ran across the knobs of your spine. That caused him more pain than you would ever know, feeling how you had atrophied from his neglect. How his dismissal, his abandonment had caused his once strong, beautiful omega, to waste away before his very eyes. “Afraid of getting caught up in you, in this. Of loving you, of giving you part of my heart. I didn’t know how to keep you safe. I didn’t think I was worthy of having something like that, like you. I still don’t.” 

“Then break the bond,” you whimpered out, the pain of the bond sickness, of your own emotions, and what little of Simon’s you could still feel through the barest threads of the bond ricocheting through your body, reduced you to little more than a husk lying on top of Simon. Your heart was shattering along with the bond, the broken edges of each splintering in a way that made it hard for you to breathe. Your breath pushed and pulled achingly slowly through your chapped lips like broken glass, just another thing ripping your very being apart. 

“If you can’t do this… I’ll… I’ll figure it out. The brass’ll let me stay, at least for a little bit. But, I can’t… I can’t keep doin’ this. ‘M not asking for love. ‘M not asking to be a real marriage, but I can’t be apart of a bond where ‘m not… where ‘m not bein’ taken care of. I can’t.” 

Your words were slurring, little more than a broken and pain-filled whimper against his broad chest, and Simon could practically hear the way his heart shatters beneath you. He did this. He did this. And yet, the selfish part of him couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, no matter how much pain he had put you through. The alpha snarled as he wrapped his arms around your ever-weakening frame impossibly tighter, as if he was afraid that if he didn’t hold you tight enough, you’d slip away from him forever. 

“No, baby, no,” he replied softly, but the words were filled with a growl of conviction, of promise. “I was stupid. I was so stupid, and I hurt you. Let me… let me fix this, okay? Please, baby. Lemme fix you. Just for right now.” 

Simon was begging. You didn’t know if you had ever heard him beg before, but here he was, begging you to allow him the chance to fix you. Your exhausted, wounded omega perked up a bit at his conviction, but you couldn’t help but feel like this was far too little, far too late. “I… I don’t know, Simon. How can you… how can you fix this?” 

The pained gasps between your words drove a stake of fear through Simon’s heart, his alpha whimpering painfully. He swallowed harshly against the ever-growing lump in his throat, as he knew that he had to be the pillar of strength. If he broke right now, there was no hope for you. His lips brushed against the top of your head as he inhaled your sour, rotted scent in despair, his hands running up and down your back in a vain attempt to soothe you. 

���Let me… let me have a chance,” the alpha, your alpha, pleaded. “Please baby, let me fix this. I’ll do better, I promise. Gods, I’ll do anything. Just… just let me get you better,  baby, please. And then, if you still want to break the bond, we can, okay? Just… I can’t lose you. I can’t let you die. Not like this. Never like this.”

You felt, more than heard, his words wash over you. You could feel your body failing, the bond sickness taking what little was left of you. Even with Simon’s touch, with his promises, you had a brief moment of clarity where you just knew that this still might be it, that the bond had been strained too far, the cavernous distance between the two of you still too great, that this bond sickness might still kill you, despite his promises to fix you. 

You were so tired. So, so tired. The pain is too much, your eyelids too heavy, and it felt like what was left of your shattered heart wasn’t pumping nearly enough oxygen through your veins. You were teetering on the edge, and all you wanted to do was sleep. 

“Just… just let me sleep. In here. With you. Please?” you mumbled, the words soft and slurred. Any fight, any pride you had just a few minutes ago was long gone, and if you were going to die, your omega wanted it to be right here, in your alpha’s arms, taken peacefully in your sleep. “I need… just, please, Si.” 

Simon’s resolve shattered at the nickname that fell past your lips. He instantly sat up, gathering your frail, fragile body in his arms as he nodded, his own tears finally breaking free. 

His fault. All his fault. Always his fault. 

He quickly stood up, your body light (too light, too light) in his arms as he carried you to his bed. He was terrified. He could feel how slow your heartbeat was, how weak your body was, how slurred your words were. He shushed you softly, gently, but the sound warbled against his own tears. 

“Shhh, shhh, baby. I got you. I got you. Just… just sleep, okay? I’ll be right here. Right here. Never leavin’ your side again. I promise. I’ll be right here when you wake up. Just sleep.” 

He gingerly laid you on the bed, surrounding you with blankets and pillows, anything he could find that was drenched in his alpha scent, before his body came to blanket you. He couldn’t lose you. And he will keep his promise, even as his own silent tears fell down around your now-unconscious face. What’s that old saying? Oh, right. You never know what you have until it’s gone.

[beatcroc]

peppino "never tell the health inspector" spaghetti

hey! it's a series! fake peppino world tour: [noise] [noisette] [peppino] [gustavo]<- u are here [gerome] [noisette again]

[arinrowan]

Source: person who first developed a vocal cord disorder and then started going nonverbal in addition to the vocal cord disorder and can't decide if it's that big a deal or not

[lostandbackagain]

we know china can turn her glamour off--or at least dim it--bc she did in SotA when we first meet her so in UtE when all skulduggery could do was whimper into the carpet in her prescence to the detriment of their planning it tells me either he's Just Like That with her or she left it up on purpose to keep him on his knees. discuss.

[coffiicorgii]

… He’s right behind me isn’t he?

[akabloom]

swapping places

alt text under the cut

[a digital drawing of matoba and natori from natsume yuujinchou. the drawing is in mostly grey scale of the both of them from a role swap au. natori is sitting holding a black cane looking down with a smile and the gecko youkai crawling across his face. he is wearing a kimono with a haori. matoba is in a closer shot on the left side, 3/4 view looking at natori with a neutral expression. he is holding a bow in his hand. in the background, a few of natoris paper dolls are behind him while behind matoba is his youkai pot.]

[teddybeartoji]

i hate how perfect characters in movies look nowdays aragorn looks like he hasn't showered in... ever and i want him SO FUCKING BAD,, his hair is greasy his face is all dirty he's sweating buckets his clothes are soaked from who knows what even his hands were all bloody and muddy and it just gives so much more to the character like i fucking love it please bring this back make your characters filthy again please

[ciderjacks]

being native rn feels insane. Like at some point shit just becomes really funny. White americans are so insanely INSANELY deluded all you can do is laugh at them, because if you dont laugh your head will explode into flames and you’ll go out into the streets indiscriminately stabbing white people like your life depends on it.

[respectthepetty]

Pit Babe Colors Ep. 4

Because I have asks in my inbox about the color coding in Pit Babe even though I don't want to watch it, I'm challenging myself with this show and seeing how good my color skills really are. I'm doing my normal thing of watching it double-speed on mute, but now, I'm going to take off the captions.

I ship it. The reds are bad, but I don't trust a single blue except Alan. Kim is a honest red. I appreciate that in a show FULL OF LIARS!

Yes, Barbara! Be upset with this fake blue boy. Are you telling him how you saw him with Jeffery?!

I know Babe and Charlie are end game, but without subtitles, my hate for Charles grows each episode. The visuals are telling me he is a liar who does not respect boundaries. Charles should be with Waymond the way they both are LIARS!

And this is why I trust Alan, and only Alan. Drinking that color-coded product placement like his life depended on it.

Waymond, I trusted you. Then you turned red last episode, and now I'm noticing how you don't. wear. blue.

Y'all just talking freely in front of THE SPY NAMED JEFFREY!

Every episode, I feel worse for Barbara. Someone get him out of here (not Waymond or Charles, but a secret third option).

GOD DAMN IT! Not him! Why is everyone so handsy in this show?!

Something is happening! I'm so tempted to turn on the subtitles. Something is going on. What is Waymond telling Barbara?! Because something is clicking for Barbara. This is good acting because Barbara's posture changed. WHAT IS BEING SAID?!

Before he was a Slut for Christ, Barbara had a steering wheel necklace.

Waymond, what did you do because you are in love with our Barbie? Did you make a deal with the devil aka Big Red?

IT HAPPENED AGAIN?!

Babe's posture changed. What is Way telling him?! What is happening?! This is strange. I don't like it.

Wait, did we know Jeff and Charlie were roommates? Was Babe just jealous of them being roommates? Did I think they were lying when Babe is just being jealous?

What is happening?! See, nah. Even if Babe knew they were roommates, I still don't trust Charlie because this incident is too convenient. Babe gets attacked and Charlie just happens to be around. And he isn't even fighting back. This is the fight with Kim all over again. Something is off.

I do not like it here. These two pop up every time there is trouble, and Jeffery keeps staring at everyone all sus like, and BABE RUN AWAY RIGHT NOW! Big Red is there. GET OUT!

There are no colors to guide me here, but I trust Kim, so . . . did Winner send people to hurt Babe and Kim is upset about it? Nah. I don't trust Charles soooooo much, that I'm still betting that he set that up.

I know you and Kim will be a thing, Kenta, and I've thought you were good since the first episode, but I need you to pick a color that ain't black. I trust your future boyfriend, so I'm extending you some grace as you stand next to the devil.

Barbara, why is this man in your house? Did you invite him over or did he not respect another boundary? You probably told him to come over because *love* or whatever. Disgusting. I'm as annoyed as you, Barbara.

He had an entire sling on just hours ago making sandwiches, and now he is slicing and dicing. Don't tell me they have special healing powers. I don't want to know. Babe looks unwell, and Charlie is being creepy, and I'm in my feelings about it.

Jeffrey isn't bothered by touch anymore? Are they already sleeping together then. Babe needs to quit arguing with Jeffrey because the trailer had a car on fire, and I KNOW Jeffrey will be behind it.

Normally, I'd be thrilled for colorful characters, but I 👏🏾 Don't 👏🏾 Trust 👏🏾 Them 👏🏾

Y'all, does Babe know they are roommates, and is just jealous?! I still don't trust Charles or Jeffrey, but now I'm thinking I'm judging them too harshly if Babe is being irrationally jealous instead of being lied to.

So either Jeffrey is coming up with the plan to sabotage the car or he is seeing the future (where he sabotages the car).

I don't care if Babe knew Charles and Jeffrey are roommates and is just being jealous. Charles has no respect for boundaries and is a color faker; therefore, I hate him.

WHY ARE YOU WEARING BLUE AND RED, PETER?! You're wearing more blue though. Why was Kenta watching you? Why did he call Big Red? Why will you end up with Way? CAN I TRUST YOU, KATNISS?!

Babe is at his darkest watching his stalker lurk around his house.

Barbara shook Kimberly's hand, and that's all I need to support my Kim-is-a-good-red theory. But then Charles is watching this game with Sus Bros & Co, so I'm mad all over again.

JEFFREY, I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DID THIS, I HOPE ALAN CHOKES YOU TO DEATH! And if it was Winner, who was SMILING, I hope Kim chokes you to death.

Alan, don't trust either of their asses. Do you hear me?! Go save our Barbie from the clutches of Charles before it's too late.

Afterthoughts: I really think watching this show without subs was the dumbest idea I've had because now I think I got some of the plot wrong and Babe is just super jealous instead of being lied too, and I'm wrongfully trusting Kim, but I'm committed to the bit. It's too late to turn them on now, and I refuse to go back and watch these episodes with subs since I'm so mad at Charles, Jeffrey, and Waymond who is doing some strange stuff to Barbara.

I only trust Babe, Alan, Kim, and Pete (because he is pretty).

Everyone else is a liar, liar, pants on fire.

[cozza-frenzy]

Hey guys, it's Vivien. Just kind of wanted to take the chance to I guess... address a few things that have been bothering us since we started Systober. Terry doesn't want to tackle this, so instead I'm taking over so we can hopefully get this dealt with. Anyone who's been paying close attention to the blog has probably noticed that we've been getting increasingly hostile anon messages. In addition to this, we've been banned from the "Anti-Endo Systems" tumblr community, presumably because of the posts on our blog. From what we can tell, the general consensus of the system community re: us seems to be that we're faking, that we're "secretly" endogenic, or that there's something else wrong with us besides being a system. So - just to address some of the controversy that's been leveraged towards us?

Yeah - we don't have to justify jack shit. Unlike our host, I don't respect literally any of you people, and I'm not going to mince words; we're sick of stumbling upon posts about how people think systems "should behave", about which behaviors they feel are "really DID" and which ones are "delusional". We're sick of being picked apart over shit like the complexities of our inner world, our willingness to leverage our own visualization tools to aid in our recovery, and our open-ness in talking about both of these. So starting right now, we're distancing ourselves from the system community on tumblr. None of our posts going forward will be tagged. I'm here to make art for me, my system, and our friends, and I'm tired of attracting the attention of idiots who want to upset our host and ruin the stability we all work hard towards maintaining. If you stumble upon our blog and you don't like what's here, fuck off. Vivien out.

[beatcroc]

homest[ar/uck] posting. this was meant to be supplementary to the gerome comic as him 'explaining the joke' but i uhhhhhh forgot.

i'm not much for crossovers in the the traditional sense, but it IS one of my favorite character exploration exercises to just go like 'if x media existed in this universe, who would and would not be a fan of it?'. and these ones are pretty notorious and always very fun to mess with for that and so here we are

[woodsborostabathon]

how it feels when, out of the three possible surnames a certain fictional family u like could have, it is sooooo common in fanon to see the one u like the absolute least used as their ‘real’ name

[gomzdrawfr]

The thing I'm most proud of myself for doing (recently) is about two months ago, I pushed myself out of my comfort zone and signed up to learn the bakery side of the café where I work. And I got accepted!! It's been a wild time, studying and practicing how to make delicious treats, but I'm so glad I did it!

Hey that’s great to hear!!! Here’s to learning more new tricks and recipes for you (slide me a quaso while you’re at it *wink wink* /j)

[deus-ex-mona]

good night~~ may you have dreams that are sweeter than this… dance…

[thisistheheartspeaking]

The world has become so twisted that a constant act of kindness given freely and unconventionally gets taken for granted while those offered with a price gets treasured. I have learnt not to be generous in giving my time, my shoulder, my ears and certainly not a single space in my heart. It's in our nature to appreciate things with high prices. I guess that's how people view kindness today. A mere 'thing' that holds no value.