#the people have spoken: just fuck it out!!!

[sturnsrecord]

CLIMB THROUGH MY WINDOW

PART TWO — [fuckboy!chris x smart!reader. alcohol, drugs, dj on the vj, fingering, eating pussy]. you find yourself gravitated towards chris at a party, letting up more than you thought you would.

ʚ part one ɞ — ʚ part three ɞ

despite your studious lifestyle, and somewhat good decision making as a teenager, you didn't always turn down a party. if you had done all your work for the week, and had found a good lie to tell your parents, then you’d show up.

after that night in your room with chris he hadn't really spoken to you, other than in class or around school. you hated to admit it, but it bothered you. a lot. 

it had been a week since then and you’d already seen him chatting to other girls by their lockers, leaning on them like some idiot as he chatted them up. 

you didn't let that bother you. you knew chris, and what he was like. he was a fuck boy, of course he was gonna do exactly that and fuck other girls. deep down you wished you had the sexual confidence to sleep with other guys, maybe make chris feel shit. although a part of you knew he wouldn't even care.

you also knew that not having sex with him was bound to push him away, but you weren’t stupid enough to just sleep with him to keep him close. if he didn’t want what you was giving him then he could fuck off. which is what he would do.

this was your first time at a boys party though. you thought there'd be no difference, it was the same clump of teenagers in their school that showed up to all the parties. but apparently, not having a girl as the host meant there were a lot more rouge plus ones and a lot less organisation. 

the house was poorly lit, only adding to everyone's intoxication, as well as the mixed smell of bo and alcohol. 

you walked through the crowd, clinging onto your best friend's hand in the hopes that you wouldn't be separated. the both of you thought that making a beeline for the garden was the best idea, but the second you got out there it was just as busy.

“who the fuck are all these people?” you mutter to bella. “no idea.” she huffed, looking around to observe all the new faces.

as you make your way through the garden, you spot chris. he’s sat on an outdoor sofa, surrounded by other rowdy boys and some girls who were very obviously flirting with him and his friends. you tug at bella's arm, motioning towards chris.

“no, i don't wanna go over there.” bella huffs, raising an eyebrow. “c’mon. it's just chris, you know he's nice. besides, he's my friend.” you say, slightly desperate to go over there. 

“friend?” she questions, giving you a certain look. “you guys are fucking.” she mumbles under her breath. you scoff at her words. “i'm literally a virgin.” you retort, as if that changed anything.

“you're still doing stuff with him.” bella mumbles back, trying to tease you. “okay whatever, i'll meet up with you in a bit.” you say, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “kay love ya.” she hums back before you separate ways. 

you walk over to chris, noticing the half rolled joint in his hand. as soon as you’re close, he immediately looks up, a bright smile on his face. “didn't expect to see you here.” he says, returning his gaze to the joint as he delicately compacts the tobacco and weed into a cone.

“why not?” you remark, taking a sip of your drink, the already decided first and last of the night. he shrugs, licking the paper. “dunno, hardly see ya at parties.” he responds, folding over the paper meticulously before looking up at you. “thought you'd have too much work to do.” he remarks.

you raise your eyebrows at his comment. “well i don't.” you say with a smug smile. “hmm, that's a first.” he mumbles, the joint hanging from his lips, making his words even less clear. 

“shut up.” you roll your eyes, frowning slightly. he smirks to himself, leaning forward to get a lighter off the table. 

you hesitate slightly, going to sit on the armrest of the sofa. he takes note as he leans back, “you can sit y’know.” he says, bringing the lighter up to the end of his zoot. you sit down, fixing your skirt slightly to be composed on the small surface. 

he wastes no time wrapping his arm behind you, his hand gripping onto your hip. you’re a little shocked at the tame yet out in the open pda, but watching chris relax as he inhales the weed makes you realise that it was very possible that he'd done other shit tonight too.

“you want some?” he asks, smoke tumbling out of his mouth as he speaks. you look down at the joint being offered to you, hesitating for a second.

“you can say no, m’not forcing-” you interrupt, pinching it from his hand as you take a toke. he smirks, watching as you smokes. he won't deny, you looked very attractive.

you hand it back, appreciating the burn to the back of your throat at the strength. “good?” he questions your reaction.

“better than any other weed i've smoked.” you answer honestly, taking a sip of your drink, hoping it would soothe your throat, despite the fact it was a vodka-coke.

“that's cos i’ve got good shit.” he says, his face scrunching as he inhales whilst talking. a couple of his friends leave, creating an open space next to chris. he taps the side of your thigh, motioning you to move to sit next to him.

you stand promptly, walking past his spread legs to sit next to him. 

“what you drinkin then?” he asks curiously, a little smile on his face like he's teasing you for drinking. “guess.” you respond, holding it out for him to try. he sighs, reluctantly grabbing the cup from your grasp to give into your little game.

he takes a sip, grimacing slightly. “you drink vodka-coke?” he questions, the judgement clear in his voice as he hands the solo cup back. “it's better than doing coke.” you mumble, a stupid jokey remark you were almost embarrassed to say out loud.

he gives you a look, a slightly amused smile on his face. “that was a poor joke.” he tells you, despite the grin on his face. “well, it's true.” you say sharply, giving him a look of disappointment.

he shakes his head with a smile before taking a toke. “since when d’you care bout the drugs i do?” he asks casually, a small frown on his face, contrasting his slight smile.

you could tell he was a little offended, and that he actually didn't like the joke you’d made. you shrug. “i wouldn't say i care, s’just not good for you.”

“hmm.” he nods a little, which was him nicely telling you to fuck off. “so like, you wouldn't let m’do a line off you?” he mumbles, looking over at you with an intense gaze as he takes another puff.

you almost choke on your drink, your eyes wide as he asks. “uh.” you cough a little, composing yourself slightly. “what d’you mean a line- like where on me?” you question, now a little curious at the proposition.

he grins at your response, shrugging. “dunno, between your tits or somethin.” he says casually.

“and how many girls have you done that with?” you question, calling him out a bit.

“between the tits?” he repeats, thinking for a second. “none.” you roll your eyes at the obvious insinuation that he'd done lines off other parts of girls bodies. 

“want anymore?” he offers, his eyes now a little more red and sleepy. you take it from him, relaxing back on the couch as you inhale.

“so, s’that a no on the line?” he murmurs, clearly high as a kite as he looks over at you with a lazy smile, subtly holding out a baggie with white powder. 

you look over at him in slight disappointment, snatching the baggie from between his fingers as you shove it into his coat pocket. “don't just pull that out.” you panic slightly, not loving how carefree he was sometimes. 

he looks around, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “no one here gives a shit.” he grumbles, frowning a little before his gaze meets yours again, his eyes silently asking.

“you actually want to?” you question, not really understanding the point. you take a toke of the zoot after speaking, stubbing the end out into the ashtray on the table. 

he shrugs with a small smirk. “why not?” he questions, like he's daring you to do so. you sigh, questioning your own judgement as you actually consider it. 

he senses your hesitation, leaning forward a bit as his elbows rest on his knees. “doesn’t have t’be between your tits.” he mumbles, his eyes roaming over your body like he was looking for another spot. “could do it off your thigh.” he suggests, his voice almost hoarse as he speaks, making it very apparent that he himself liked that idea. 

you definitely preferred that idea, it seemed like less of a hassle. maybe it was the mixture of the alcohol and the weed, clouding your judgement, but you were down to do that. “m’kay.” you mumble, giving in. it's not like you yourself were gonna do a line.

he nods a little, almost proud of you for saying yes and venturing out a bit. then he stands, offering his hand to you before he leads you through the house, your delicate hand gripping onto his more rough one as you tag along behind him. 

he took you to an upstairs bathroom, letting you shut and lock the door behind you. you turn and he's already got the baggie out, holding it open. “shut the lid, n’sit.” he tells you, motioning towards the toilet. 

you do as told, mindlessly chucking your bag onto the floor before you take a seat on the closed toilet lid, the plastic cold against your upper thighs.

“this is so stupid.” you mumble, feeling a little nervous. “and pointless.” you add, watching as he sorts out his shit. 

“nah, it's hot.” he corrects, walking over to you before he gets on his knees in front of you. he holds his id card against your thigh, almost creating a barrier before he sprinkles a small line over your skin. 

you watch intensely, feeling your heart rate spike at the sheer adrenaline of the situation.

“don't move.” he tells you, using the edge of the card to straighten out the line a little. you take in a small breath, trying your hardest to remain completely still.

he puts the baggie and his card away, looking up to see your slightly nervous expression. “you good?” he asks, his hand coming to gently rub your other thigh. you nod a little. “can you just do it, i'm scared i'm gonna flinch or move or something.” you say quickly, clearly quite stressed about the prospect of spilling the expensive substance on your thigh.

he chuckles slightly at your panic, more calm as he trusted that you wouldn't move. but he complies, reaching into his back pocket for a dollar bill.

he rolls it into a tube before leaning over slightly as he brings it to one nostril, pressing the other with his finger. you feel the dollar bill touch you slightly, before he runs it along the line, snorting the coke. 

he's quick to tip his head back, his face scrunching as he sniffs, making sure it's all in.

your grip on the side of the toilet seat loosens slightly, as the muscles in your thigh relax. you look over at him as he puts the bill away, sniffling a little as it passes. then your gaze shifts to the tiny trace of the substance on your thigh, a miniscule amount left.

he pops his thumb into his mouth before collecting the remainder on your skin. “you want it?” he offers, although he's not expecting you to say yes. you shake your head. “how are you meant to snort that?” you question.

he smirks before sucking it off his thumb and then wiping it clean on his jeans. “like that.” he says, watching as you look at him curiously. “huh.” you mumble.

“s’not a lot, won't do much.” he shrugs, before looking back up at you. 

neither of you move as his gaze shifts over your body, specifically at your exposed thighs and short denim skirt. 

the coke was obviously getting to him as his gaze became fixed and concentrated, whereas your mind was spinning slightly. you were minorly cross faded, making you more brave than usual, as demonstrated by that little performance you just took part in.

“what kinda underwear d’ya wear.” he mumbles, his eyes not leaving your thighs. you smile at his question, finding amusement and confidence in the fact that he thought about that kinda stuff. 

instead of answering you begin to part your legs, revealing your black lacy underwear, the material only partially see through. 

his mind blanks at your action, his mouth filling with saliva as he admires the view and boldness. “you wear lacy shit?” he questions, his voice hoarse and lustful. “only when i dress up.” you respond with a smile, looking down at his reaction.

“looks fuckin sexy.” he mumbles, moving his hand forward to lightly brush his fingers over the fabric, feeling the slight dampness.

his head falls against your thigh at the feeling of how wet you are, his other hand gripping your calf. “fuck.” he groans, keeping his fingers there. 

he looks up at you eventually, his eyes heavy. “d’you have any idea how wet y’are?” he mumbles. you nod with a small smile, basking in how much it was sending him over the edge. 

he refrains from moaning again, instead returning his attention back to the heat between your legs. you gently play with his hair as you watch his fixation. “can i?” he murmurs.

you don’t even know what he's asking, but you’re quick to respond. “yeah.” you whisper, catching your bottom lip between your teeth.

he pushes the bottom of your skirt up, watching as it bunches at your hips. then he hooks his fingers into your underwear, tugging it down your legs. you lift your hips up, helping him, and that's all the confirmation he needs to know you’re more than ok with this.

he separates your legs, admiring your naked form. “fuck-” he whispers, reaching out to touch you, sliding his fingers through your folds. you slouch back, looking down at the movement of his hands. you keep an eye on where his hands are going, almost waiting for him to do something.

his middle finger moves lower, gently prodding at your entrance. you flinch slightly at the new feeling.

“you still not into me fingerin you?” he questions, fixated on the way the tip of his finger slipped in slightly. “you can.” you breathe out, suddenly desperate to feel him. maybe it was your intoxication talking, but either way you knew you wanted chris, you just struggled to rationalise and vocalise it to him.

“you sure?” he asks, tilting his head up to look at you. you nod eagerly, opening your legs a little wider to give him access.

he wastes no time slowing pushing his finger in before gently twisting his wrist to get the right angle. you bask in the new sensation, never having had anything up there. then he speeds up quickly, curling his finger up into your g-spot.

“oh fuck-” you gasp, your body tensing slightly at the intense pleasure. he concentrates on the rhythm of his arm, making sure to hit the spot inside you perfectly. 

“can't lie, i really wanna go down on you.” he murmurs breathlessly, clearly overcome with lust in the moment. 

“what..?” you mumble out, returning to reality for a second as you focus your eyes on his face, and the desperate expression on it. 

“y’know, when you give a girl head-.” he explains with a sly grin. you shake your head quickly. “fuck off.” you scowl at his sarcasm. “i mean like, right here?” you raise your eyebrows as you question.

he looks over your body, your legs spread for him, exposing yourself at almost eye level. “well, i mean…” he raises an eyebrow, making a point about the position you were in right now.

you think for a second, looking over the situation. he senses the hesitation, bringing his hand to gently rub your thigh. “it’ll feel real good. promise.” he tells you, venturing closer.

your heart rate picks up as he brings his face closer to your heat, a peak in anxiety and insecurity as no ones been that close to you like that before. but all that vanishes as his tongue presses over your sensitive clit, making your body jerk in pleasure.

“mghh..” you groan, threading your fingers through his hair. he gets the message, immediately going all in, circling his tongue over your clit expertly, his hand still gripping your thigh.

“you're really good at that.” you croak out, your mouth momentarily falling open at the feeling. he smirks against you, concentrating on the task at hand as he soaks in the praise.

after a few minutes of the delicate touch of his tongue, he shifts so that he can hold both your thighs, pulling you closer to his face. for comfort you end up mindlessly resting your legs over his shoulders as he goes in further, sucking and nipping at your clit.

it makes your back arch, chris holding down your hips with his hands. “fuck-” you moan, your voice cut off by a gasp as he gently slips a finger in.

you sit up a little, looking down at  him with an already fucked out expression. “wait- i’m gonna cum if you do that.” he removes his mouth, looking up at you curiously, “is that not the point?” he taunts, his finger slowly moving in and out of you.

“yeah, but i'll be too loud.” you whimper, reminding the both of you where you were, anyone could be outside that door waiting for the toilet.

his smirk only widens at your admission, “be quiet then.” he ushers before his lips connect with your clit again. he leaves you with no time to dispute before gasps and whines are tumbling out of your mouth again.

he's quick to match the pace of his finger with the movement of his tongue, applying more pressure to your sensitive nerve as his finger hits your g-spot repeatedly. 

you grip onto his hand that's still on your thigh, holding tightly as you try to make less noise. 

from the constant simultaneous stimulation you feel, waves of pleasure coarse through your body, digging your nails into his skin as your orgasm builds up.

“gonna come.” you squeak, trying your best to stay silent. you resolve to covering your mouth with your hand, poorly muffling your moans as your high hits. he looks up at you from his position between your legs, not wanting to miss the sight of you coming undone from his touch.

your hips desperately grind forward onto chris's mouth as you come, his movements slowing to a reasonable pace. he removes his mouth, watching his finger pump in and out slowly as your body shakes and you come down from your orgasm, eventually pulling his finger out.

once you've calmed down, he gently removes your legs from his shoulders, planting your feet on the floor. 

“holy fuck.” you breathe out, almost in shock from how good that felt. he basks in your orgasmic haze, loving how good he made you feel. “you taste really good.” he comments, sucking your slick off his middle finger. 

“don't do that- that's disgusting.” you mutter, frowning judgmentally.

“what?” he chuckles, amused by your reaction. “i just had m’tongue on your pussy.” he points out. you grimace a little, despite the truth of it. “don't say it like that.” you mumble, shaking your head slightly with the same disgusted look on your face. 

he rolls his eyes playfully as he stands up, “you're ridiculous.” he tells you before he goes to wash his hands. 

you sit up, your legs a little shaky as you pick your underwear off the floor, stepping into them. you stand, pulling them up before fixing your skirt. 

“you good?” he asks, leaning against the counter as you sort your stuff. before you can answer there's a bang on the door followed by a loud voice telling you to hurry up.

your eyes go wide, and you want nothing more than to curl up into a ball and hide. “chris, i can't go out there.” you whisper, picking your bag off the floor.

“s’fine.” he says, like that's supposed to just reassure you completely. he saunters to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open almost theatrically. 

chris daps the guy up, and from the friendly interaction you can tell it's one of his friends.

“you guys hookin up?” he asks, looking between the both of you with a grin, his gaze remaining on your legs for far too long.

“nah, just doin the usual.” chris says, subtly wiping his nose as he speaks. the guy's eyebrows raise before he looks over at you again. “you do coke?” he questions, clearly surprised.

you go to respond, your words getting caught in your throat. but it doesn't matter because chris is already talking. “she did a bump, wanted to try it.” chris says, leaning closer to the guy as he speaks.

then chris's arm wraps around your waist, pulling you further away from the bathroom. “see ya around.” chris says to the guy, before pushing you so that you were now walking in front of him, a part of you thinking he did it to block the view of your ass from his friend.

“you okay?” he asks you, walking behind you as you descend the stairs with slightly shaky legs. “fuck off.” you tell him, trying to act like he hadn't just made your legs complete jelly.

he chuckles a little at your attitude, holding his hands up in surrender. “m’just asking.” he mumbles, a grin on his face.

you both reach the bottom of the stairs and you turn to look at him. “well i'm fine.” you hum before looking down at your unstable legs. “my legs are just a bit shaky.” you mumble under your breath.

his eyebrows raise a little, his own cockiness taking over. “oh really, why's that?” he asks, leaning on the bannister with a sly knowing smirk.

you roll your eyes, not wanting to feed into his ego further, although to be fair that may have been the best orgasm of your life. 

“why'd you always ruin it?” you huff, moving to stand in front of him, his arm still over the bannister. “m’not ruining nothin.” he mumbles, pressing his lips together as he pulls you in by your hip. 

your bodies are flush, and you can feel his steady heartbeat against your own chest, a contrast to yours. you look around at the crowds of people, some in conversation, others walking past the both of you to go upstairs. “you sure you wanna be seen like this with me?” you question, taking note of the increased pda when he's coked. 

he pouts, a soft frown forming on his face. “what's that meant to mean?” he mumbles, although he knows exactly what you mean. 

“we just look very couply right now.” you point out, looking at the lack of space between your bodies. he shrugs like it's nothing, but you know it is.

“so, we're just two people havin fun at a party.” he says, his other hand coming up to brush a strand of hair out of your face, tentatively tucking it behind your ear. “just cos we look couply, dont mean we are.” he adds. 

“m’kay.” you mumble, just accepting his silly answer. “what?” he questions, frowning down at your change in expression. 

“nothing.” you say, spreading a smile across your face to reassure him. “s’not nothin, what’d i say?” he asks, his hand now playing with the ends of your hair although his gaze is focussed on your eyes, following their every move. 

you sigh, unsure of what to even say. “it's just-” you're cut off by him kissing you, his hands gripping your face to hold you in place. the kiss is hot, but softer than usual. his tongue isn't licking across your lip like usual, instead it's just the soft plush of his own lips. the intensity is there, it's just not in the action, rather in the emotion. which scares you a little. 

he pulls away, pressing a soft peck to your lips. “stop thinkin so much.” he tells you with a small smile, rubbing his hand over your cheek. 

you look up, into his eyes, aware of how adoring your gaze must be right now. “sorry.” you mumble out, drawing your eyes away from his. 

“you're good.” he says shortly, before he kisses her head. you feel cold as soon as he's no longer touching you. 

“i'm gonna go find bella.” you tell him, taking a little step away trying to keep it casual after that interaction. he nods, looking around a little. “i'll see you later then?” he says. you nod before parting ways.

you watch him walk away, letting out a breath you were unknowingly holding. fuck.

©sturnsrecord

notes . reupload from my previous account @/plan8sturn, I will be continuing the series here

[xoxochb]

— glue song ꣑ৎ‧₊˚.

warnings: swearing, kinda rushed ending pairing: luke castellan x daughter of hades a/n: first chapter… drop your opinions!

series m. list

the multiverse theory is the ideology that there are separate universes beyond this. many scientists have researched studies to retrieve a clear answer, yet nothing has been found. many people additionally like to make a belief that them and their most beloved would be different in this alternate universes. many think they might hate each other, love each other, or simply not know of each others existence.

you— the only daughter of hades at camp half-blood believe strongly in the fact that you and your best friend, head counselor of hermes cabin, would be best friends regardless of the opposite universe. luke castellan doesn’t think much into your science-y stuff, but if he ever finds you rambling he can’t help but listen because you’re you! disregarding his opinion on science theories if you love them that means he loves them, it’s a mutual thing, truly.

anyways, on days such as these, the slow ones where there aren’t much exciting events or camp duties, you find yourself cooped up in the coldness of cabin thirteen, a silent cabin all to yourself. this was only until your brother decided to move back in from cabin seven— then you would have to share it, unfortunately. you keep a book open in your lap, reading over the lines of endless words, entrancing yourself into the fictional world that is your book.

it was silent, and it was perfect and the fireplace crackling only added onto your cozy aura. you can’t help but let out a tiny squeal at this, then returning back to your seriousness of reading. but you were naive to think that you would get alone time for at least something as simple as an hour, soon enough the door to your cabin opens and you frown, refraining from looking up from your book and ignoring the person walking towards your bed. but by the prominent mop of dark curls you know who it is.

“not even gonna spare me a glance? you wound me, nerd, truly.”

“go away, luke, this is my silent reading time.”

he doesn’t listen. instead, luke ushers you to slide over as he takes a seat beside you on your bed.

“what’s the book of choice for today?”

“the shining.”

luke nods slowly. “I like the movie better.”

you remain silent and try to get yourself back into the book world as luke returns to silence. you’re disrupted again when his finger twirls around a strand of your hair delicately. you sigh and attempt to ignore it. until he tugs at it

“what the fuck are you doing! stop it!” you take your hair from his hold as he laughs at your dismay. “I’m not laughing, I don’t find you funny.”

“really? because I think I��m hilarious.”

your mouth remains shut.

“c’mon, nerd, talk to me. I’m dying here.”

“great. I’ll see you at the gates.”

luke opens his mouth to speak but ultimately decides not to say anything. you’d known luke since your first arrival at camp back when you were ten, you’d came straight from the underworld where you lived with your father. as a demigod, typically you’d stay with your mortal parent, however, your mother had apparent ‘complications’ said by your father and you were forced to live in his palace for the first years of your life until he deemed it unhealthy for you to be cooped up down there for so long. when you’d arrived at camp, luke had been one of the only campers that had spoken to you— most to all of the others wouldn’t dare look in your direction due to your godly heritage.

but luke didn’t care about that. he welcomed you happily and allowed you to befriend him, since this, you had been inseparable. when you were fifteen he discovered your passion for all things astronomy while catching you reading a planets book by the lake one afternoon. he had sat beside you and listened as you rambled until the moon rose and the sun set, nonsense he declared it, just a bunch of your nerdy stars and planets bullshit he’d never cared for before. but since meeting you he’d grown to become fond of them— they were always a quiet reminder of you. and welcome the nickname. ‘nerd’ he calls you. at first you hated it, after a year or two you got used to it and stopped complaining.

“I’ll get to see you?”

“that’s not—” you search for the right words. “stop.“

“you’ve gotta make a more convincing argument, nerd.”

“well I want you to stop, isn’t that enough?”

“alright, my mouth is zipped.” luke makes a zipper motion over his mouth. you turn back to your book and try to re-read the lines again. luke places his head atop yours, inhaling the scent of your shampoo. he frowns. “you smell different. like vanilla. you usually smell like berries.”

“you got an emotional attachment to the berry conditioner?”

he shrugs. “I did.”

“I’ll make sure to buy that one next time then since your feelings are so hurt.”

“really? you’re great, nerd, thanks.”

you shake your head slowly. the cabin returns back to silence, a comfortable silence. yet you secretly wish he would say something again, even if it’s utterly stupid. and unbeknownst to you, luke wishes only the same of you.

[bowlofworms]

This is my buddy, Alfa. He doesn’t know what a/b/o is and we’re too afraid to tell him.

That’s Bravo. They’re a theatre major.

That’s Charlie. They’re pretty much the only one who has their shit together. He even pays taxes. We wish we could be her.

That’s Delta. She’s a stream ecologist.

That’s Echo. They’re in spoken word.

That’s Foxtrot. He’s a dance major and he’s really proud of his name. We don’t think he realizes how many people think he’s a furry.

This is my buddy, Golf. He swallowed a golf ball once and the nickname stuck.

That’s Hotel. Her name is actually Telle, but she called herself a hoe once and we haven’t let it go.

That’s India; short for Indiana. Yes, like Indiana Jones. The joke is that his fursona is a dog. Cuz, ya know, Indiana is the name of the dog.

Next to India is his girlfriend, Juliette. Unless he’s feeling like his boyfriend that day, then his name is Jules.

That’s Kilo. His name is actually pronounced KY-low.

That’s Lima. We have no idea how its name came to be, but it’s a pretty cool to hang out with.

That’s Mike. He does stand up.

That’s November, but we just call her Novie! She thinks all weather is sweater weather and her dedication is impressive.

That’s Oscar. His middle name is Dorian. His last name is Grey. He likes to fuck with people by pretending he has absolutely no idea who Oscar Wilde is.

That’s Papa. His name is actually Peter. He transitioned pretty recently and told us that his grandkids finally started calling him Papa; and since he says he’s the group grandpa, we started calling him Papa too.

That’s Quebec. They’re not Canadian.

That’s Romeo. She’s effortlessly butch and we’re jealous.

That’s Sierra. She’s from Colorado and loves the mountains.

That’s Tango. Unlike Foxtrot, she’s not a dance major, but she does have two dads and she really likes penguins, so.

That’s Uniform. His real name is Garrison and he wears camo pants all the time. The nickname practically made itself.

That’s Victor. He really likes Dracula and refuses to see the irony in this.

That’s Whiskey. His mom’s name is Brandy his sister’s name is Margarita.

That’s X-Ray. His names actually Xander, but his middle name is Ray, so we just call him X-Ray.

That’s Zulu. Both of their parents are Umzulu.

if you're transgender and need name ideas, may I direct you toward the nato alphabet because like. delta? november?? echo?? romeo is like the butchest name. please consider foxtrot. being named whiskey would be cool as hell. I know multiple transmascs who were a bit too into english lit and are named victor now. I've met people named sierra who were trans in every direction. maybe don't name yourself golf

[wrathofrats]

Seeing Blind (you’re too good to be all mine)

Chapter 5. Mature, 2.4k. Read under cut or on Ao3

(Part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

As always thank you to @divine-misfortune for writing this with me <3

Rain whipped around. Confused to see Dew running up to him from the side field, brushing debris off of his overalls. They had never spoken before, at least not directly like this. Small quips and comments when he finds himself at Swiss’ side that sound like they’re meant to be digs directed at him despite the fact Dew barely acknowledged his presence.

“I’m sorry?”

“I think we should have a talk“

It’s Rain’s turn to barely sleep in Swiss’ arms. His head swimming with a tirade of thought. Was he not good enough? Did he do something wrong? Go too fast? Maybe Swiss just didn’t want him in the same way he did?

He could feel how hard he was against his back for a good portion of the night. Rationally, most of that couldn’t possibly be true. Why would Swiss assume he wasn’t ready for it? None of it made sense and it left a strange, conflicted feeling in him. Not quite dejected but certainly confused.

At least he could finally sleep comfortably beside him, in a bed, like real people who like each other do.

When the sun threatens to crest the horizon, Swiss is shifting behind him. Moving carefully. Thoughtfully trying not to jostle Rain awake, no reason for him to have to adhere to the ungodly early schedule Swiss kept. It’s a hopeless effort but it was the thought that counted. Rain stirred as the arm beneath his head began to retreat, making a soft sound he could only describe as a chirp. His eyes fight to open, drooping despite himself, as Swiss slipped from the cozy little cocoon they’d made.

“Shh tadpole…Go back to sleep”

Cute. Rain looked beyond adorable and Swiss suddenly understood the meaning of ‘cuteness aggression’. The messy hair and blush coloring his cheeks the loveliest shade of pink was entirely unfair, but the way he managed to bat those pretty eyelashes was playing dirty.

“Just’a couple more minutes Swiss, ‘lease” Rain mumbled his way right into a yawn, tugging at Swiss’ shirt like he might just drag him back into bed like this.

“I’ve gotta go, I can’t be late. But come see me on my break, ‘kay?”

Swiss smoothed the hair from his forehead, dipping down to kiss the little crease between his brows before Rain’s head dropped back to the pillow with a small whine that he gives up on committing to when the comforters pulled back over him. Hard not to snuggle back in, harder not to bury his face in the other pillow to inhale the comfortable lingering scent like he might just pretend Swiss was still beside him.

Didn’t stop him from pouting though.

Leaving Rain was a real test of his will but dutifully Swiss dragged himself away. It was safer for him to duck out as early as this, less of a chance of being caught by the wrong person. He woefully stuffed his feet back into his muddy boots abandoned by the front door and trudged outside towards his truck.

He prayed it was too early for anyone else to be lurking about, and if it had to be anyone, let it be Mountain.

But God had a sense of humor, apparently.

Dew and cirrus were waiting for him with wolfish grins near the tractor, immediately trying to prod him for answers.

"Well well well, smooth talked your way right into his bed huh?" Dew laughed

"Didn't take him for easy.” Cirrus folds her arms looking over his sorry, disheveled state.

"So how was he? Did he even know what he was doing? Was it embarrassingly bad? That why you're doing the walk of shame before the suns even up?" Dew gasped at the promise of scandal, hanging off of Cirrus’ arm with a smirk like he was pleased with himself.

Swiss couldn’t tell if he wanted them to die or if he'd like a stampede of cattle to take him out then and there. Honestly, didn't know if they even deserved a response. Probably shouldn’t. All their senseless prodding, he shouldn’t dignify it but God Dew was too fucking annoying to ignore at times.

“We didn’t do anything” Swiss pushed past them to make the hike back to his truck so he could at least change. Boss might give him weird looks for showing up in yesterday's wrinkled clothes.

“Oh, sure. Totally. So, tell me, he invites you in and you spend the night doing what exactly? A kiss on the cheek before turning off the lights at nine on the dot so you can sleep on opposite sides of the bed with both hands above the covers?” Dew questions incredulously, with an oddly specific example. “You’re the worst liar I’ve ever fucking met, Swiss!”

Swiss winced at the volume of his voice, nervously eyeing the farmhouse standing silently as he gestured aggressively for him to shut the fuck up. Rain would be mortified if he knew the others were talking about him in this fashion.

“Love that Swiss thinks he can lie his way out of shit like this, as if you of all people don’t know what he looks like after a long night.” Cirrus snickers behind her hand and Dew suddenly looks appalled.

“Oh my fucking god it was one time!”

“It was a couple times actually-“

Like a thief in the night, Swiss uses their endless bickering as an excuse to slip away from their interrogation. He climbed into the backseat of his truck and rummaged under the passenger seat - working a job like this, he learned early on to keep a change of clothes on hand. It was awkward to say the least. He was not a dainty man and the back of his truck was far from spacious but he managed to climb out only having smashed his elbow into the window twice. Seemingly just in time. The crunch of gravel and the sharp squeaks of a poor suspension announced their arrival before the truck branded with an all too familiar logo rounded the bend.

His head snapped around alarmingly fast, met with mischievous grins from the both of them. He bristled. “Not a fucking word or I’m telling him to drug test you two.” Swiss hissed, both warning and threatening. Dew made a face, opening his mouth to retort but Cirrus was faster. Sticking out her tongue in his direction before grabbing him by the arm and leading him away to where they would pretend to work for the next two hours.

As they left him standing beside his truck, Swiss watched Rain’s father get out of the truck with clearly stiffened limbs. His throat felt tight as he looked his way, fearing that just maybe he knew but the man just regarded him with a curt nod and a gruff good morning, then headed inside.

Swiss wanted to close his head in the door of his truck, multiple times.

It was going to be a long fucking day.

Rain slipped out the back door an hour or so after lunch. Wearing exhaustion and semi untamed curls, a brand of disheveled he’d never sported before. He was off the schedule they’d taken to over the last few weeks. Swiss’ lunch break was a little before two, and it was currently well past. Swiss could sigh and huff all he liked about him sleeping in and shirking his fruit picking responsibilities, as well as what he’d woefully described as ‘kiss withdrawls’, but Rain truly couldn’t be faulted for sleeping in. His sheets smelled like warm tobacco and aftershave, a little bit like hay and whatever it was truly encompassed Swiss. It was hard for rain to leave in the morning, silently hoping it would linger until he got back that night.

“Rain! I’ve been looking for you!”

Rain whipped around. Confused to see Dew running up to him from the side field, brushing debris off of his overalls. They had never spoken before, at least not directly like this. Small quips and comments when he finds himself at Swiss’ side that sound like they’re meant to be digs directed at him despite the fact Dew barely acknowledged his presence.

“I’m sorry?”

“I think we should have a talk, can you come here for a minute?” Dew kicked some rocks and pursed his lips at rain who looked more than confused. He looked around for Swiss, to see if this was one of his shenanigans or could at least save him from whatever was happening.

Dew knew their routine. Knew exactly how to intersect Rain’s path before he could go attach himself to Swiss like an overgrown leech. It was almost too easy for him to find and stop him. If Rain had any more confidence in himself he would’ve told Dew to leave him alone, return the same disdain Dew had regarded him with from the start, but he was alarmingly forward. Grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him with surprising ease towards the tractor for a bit more privacy. Less of a chance they’d be interrupted.

Dew, and the other workers by extension were far from fond of him. Swiss was the outlier. Rain knew fighting him on this would cause nothing but trouble.

“Where are you going by the way? Thought you didn’t have to do your small share of work till later.” Whatever over sweetness he’d greeted him with dropped from his tone, borderline sneering at him instead.

“Dad asked me to check on one of the cows, said she looked in bad shape this morning.” Rain readjusted the bag on his shoulder, eyes flitting towards the field with a silent prayer that Swiss might just happen to pop up. Save him from whatever he’d walked into.

“Bullshit,” Dew barely stopped himself from laughing at his lie. “He would’ve mentioned it to us, not you.” Dew crossed his arms, leaning on the tractor. Casually and subtly blocking off Rain’s easy exit back to the yard.

“Ok…Then what do you think I’m doing?” Rain scoffed and rolled his eyes. This was dumb, they both had better things to be doing.

“Considering that brown paper sack in your hands, and the little birdie that talks about you in the barn, I’d say you’re bringing Swiss a snack for his break” it’s the slight flick of his eyes that answers the silent accusation.

“I don’t see how what I do with my time is any of your business” Rain's voice was almost entirely confident, almost. The faintest waver under his incredulous stare. It was hard to hold steady when someone as intense as Dew was interrogating him like he was caught about to do something downright sinister.

“Well I just think it’s funny how much time you spend with him. All of your breaks, sneaking out to go to the bonfire, spending the night?” He practically hissed his last point. “Thought your dad didn’t like you spending too much time with people like us. Weird, huh?”

“I’m not like that, I’m not my father.” Rain felt almost guilty as dew continued to stare at him like he was disgusted. Had he really been that bad? He didn’t think he was that much of a priss before Swiss came around.

“Oh you aren’t? Rain, all you do is sit on your throne and occasionally feed the animals or pick fruit for daddy’s approval. I’ve heard what he’s said, what you’ve said.”

His face, with whatever increasingly anxious expression he’d been sporting, fell instantly. Comments from his father over the years rooted in overworked frustration when profits didn’t balance out costs, when equipment turned up broken, when the work wasn't done to his standards. Blindly throwing blame on his workers. And Rain, a teenager vying for his parent’s approval, stupidly echoed the sentiment more than once and turned his nose up at them and the work they did. Even went out of his way to avoid the lot of them at the behest of his father.

“Dew, I’m sorry…I never-“

“All I’m saying is don’t fuck around and break Swiss’ heart just because you’ve decided to enjoy the attention from the peasants” Dew spat. His tone growing increasingly more frustrated as the months or years of indignation began to finally bubble to the surface.

“That’s not-“ A finger is held up before he can begin to explain himself, effectively shutting him up before he could stammer any further.

“Save it princess, I don’t want to hear it! I’m warning you to stop fucking around with him - Swiss doesn’t deserve to be some passing fancy till you’re able to go back to that prestigious university of yours.”

Rain opened his mouth and quickly closed it when he couldn’t manage any sound. Dread filled his stomach and began clawing its way up his throat. Choking him.

Is that really what they all thought of him? Is that what Swiss thought all of this was?

“You’re a smart guy, yeah? You should be smart enough to know not to cross this clear line in the sand that you and your dad drew a long time ago. Go back to your fucking tower and stay there.”

And as quickly as his tirade began, it ended with Dew turning on his heel and storming off with his fists clenched at his sides. He’d said more than enough for Rain to get the message; none of them wanted anything to do with him, Swiss just didn’t know it yet. They all harbored a level of resentment Rain hadn’t quite comprehended apparently.

Rain didn’t walk after him. Stays rooted in place watching Dew stalk off towards the fields until the vague shape of him becomes blurry. Tears burned in his eyes. All he could do was shrink into himself and return to the house where he promptly shoved the paper bag to the bottom of the trash can. At least there, he could pretend he’d never made it to begin with.

Was he stupid? He felt like an idiot for ever thinking he could really have something as genuine as this.

Heat radiated within his chest and made itself known in the form of blotchy redness in his cheeks. He retreated to his room, bag dropped steps in front of his door in order to throw himself onto his bed like a teenage girl with a broken heart. They weren’t anything and yet it felt like his rib cage was caving in. Guilt, shame, and humiliation danced inside him. Mingled into a single sensation that made his throat painfully tight.

Rain hiccuped over a half sob, shoving both pillows off the bed and onto the floor. He didn’t need the reminder. With both pillows out of the way, he was met with the cotton candy blue shark he’d stuffed into hiding the night before. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and pulled the plush against himself. Childish comforts.

Dew was right, telling him the things he was too selfish to acknowledge. None of them wanted him around, and maybe Swiss didn’t really either. Did Swiss only humor him because he was the boss’ son? Placate ‘the princess’ to keep his job. Dew was right. He didn’t deserve Swiss.

[radfemsiren]

So I saw this on TikTok live and decided to request to debate, since I saw it was all men and one pick me woman ganging up on and bullying a soft spoken Muslim woman.

Debating on TikTok live for the first time was a fucking struggle lmao, they kicked out the girl for being a Shia, so I had to try to argue while not revealing myself to be an ex Muslim 😅

They sniffed me out right away! Too much empathy and intellect! Something Muslims are not allowed to have. When the pick me Host (she hates women more than any other woman I’ve ever met lmao) brought up a pro slavery Hadith, I asked them, “Genuinely, you’re telling me you’re pro slavery? With your own logic and morality, you are ok with literal slavery??” And they all loudly declared “YES!! Are you questioning the Hadith? What Muslim questions the Hadith?!”

They kicked me out with the swiftness lmao, Islam is not compatible with modern, civilized society 💀 The pro rape, pro wife beating, pro slavery Hadiths they were bringing up to defend their arguments.. it was hard to not out myself as an ex muzzie and just shout “YES, THATS WHY ISLAM IS EVIL BRUH, why do YOU approve of these things 😭” I’m glad I at least wasted their time and ruined their moods lmao, they got really offended by my explicit avatar pfp … they only noticed towards the end and started yelling “What the hell is that ?!” 😂

That’s my husband’s beautiful blue ass, what do you mean 😔

Anyway gonna finish setting up that ex Muslim discord and post it tonight! I wanna think of a way to troll these debates that keep growing in numbers. They don’t have many viewers but there’s so many of them and I wanna keep them down and ruin their evangelizing attempts at brainwashing more people… maybe a funny, slow speaking character to bore and annoy? Stoner muslimah that keeps interrupting to ask what’s the Islamic ruling on smoking weed lmao. She keeps coughing into the mic whenever someone tries to speak 💀

Any other ideas lol?

[shion-ah]

Death of me

Cillian Murphy as Thomas Fucking Shelby

"Do you honestly think I could ever forget?"

Hayley Atwell as Katherine Redwine

"Christ...just tell him or I will."

Annabelle Wallis as Grace Burgess

"Is that jealousy I hear?"

Joe Cole as John Shelby

"You'll always be a Shelby never get that."

Paul Anderson as Arthur Shelby

"Don't worry luv, we got you. Who do I gotta kill?"

Sophie Rundle as Ada Shelby

"You've always been there for me, of course I'll be here for you."

Helen McCrory as Polly Grey

"Us women are smarter. Now chin up, we have a job to do."

Chapter One

The air of Small Heath seemed to have a way of sticking to your skin or clothing. It left you feeling almost sticky and sweaty from the grim that would collect no matter how careful you chose to be. The people had grown used to such things and one could never be too precious about their clothing. Children seemed to run wild with their dogs and friends, men in the factories returning home covered in soot and the women trying to keep their homes cleaned to the best of their ability. Katherine Redwine had been brought up on Watery Lane and in her young mind, she believed that this was always going to be the case. “Kat, are you listening?” The annoyed voice of Ada rang through her ears pulling her attention away from the window. “Yes, of course. You were saying?” Katherine gave her friend a smile and lifted her cup of tea to her lips. It was rare that the two girls got moments like this and she didn’t mean to waste her time lost in the clouds. Ada watched Katherine with a sad smile of her own. Since the war Katherine hadn’t been the same, which she supposed was the common saying amongst the rest of the world. “I was saying that I think it is time that we get you back out there. You are a beautiful girl and I know anyone would be lucky to have you.” Ada leaned forward in her chair and crossed her ankles. “He wouldn’t want you to live like this. Pat-” “I’m alright I promise, I am just not ready. There’s still too much to do right now.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Since the men had come back home it had been a hard adjustment for her. First her brother had been killed and the man she had loved for most of her life had simply turned his back and had barely spoken a full sentence to her. And now that same man seemed to have found more trouble as if he had been fishing for it. Katherine shook her head placing the cup down back on the table giving the young Shelby woman’s hand a small squeeze. “But in the meantime I look forward to hearing all about how sweet and kind Freddie is.” At the mention of Freddie Thorne, Ada's cheeks began to flush, the usual reaction when the man was pulled into the conversation or whenever Ada told her friend of the latest escapades the two had gotten into. Katherine watched as Ada continued to talk about how much she loved Freddie and the latest times they had to meet up in secret, the forbidden romance felt like a dream she had had once. She had been so young when she first met him but those blue eyes of Thomas Shelby would forever haunt her. She was sure she would die with the image of his eyes, his smile permanently imprinted into her thoughts. She had been so angry with him, the sting of her slap across his face still stung her hand when she thought about it for too long. Of course when she had heard of what he found she wanted to try to knock some sense into him. 

And now she had a sinking feeling in her gut that felt like it was growing larger and larger each time she tried to swallow. Leave it to the most clever man she knew to bring down the eye of the government, the IRA, and god knows who else by finding and taking those guns. 

Thomas fucking Shelby. 

Those words rang in her mind when her man had told her, they rang when she confronted Charlie Strong and Curly. And once she had left Ada making her way down the street and heard of his stunt with the Chinese in a show to gather more bets. Any time she had tried to tell Thomas that he was getting into things he had no business doing, he would tell her that it “wasn’t women’s business” and would drop it at that, leaving Katherine to stare at him in a mix of frustration and continued heartache. 

Katherine began to make her way to the Garrison pub for her usual one drink with Harry giving a small nod and smile to the people she passed and in return would gain her own “Mrs. Shelby” greeting. She had grown numb to the nickname and had given up on correcting those that continued to use it and she decided to see it as a type of shield. No one fucked with the Peaky Blinders and the Shelby name went a long way in Small Heath. If Thomas had taught her anything it was to appear as calm and unbothered as possible when inside you just want to shoot something, or rather someone.

“Welcome in my lady, your usual?” Harry said, placing a glass down on the bar once Katherine had entered. She made her way to the middle of the bar and took her usual seat. “Yes please, Harry.” Katherine gave the older man a kind smile and glanced about the pub. The usual bar flies were about four glasses in and only acknowledged her with a simple nod or not at all. “How have you been Harry? Haven’t been given any trouble have you?”

“None, miss. Mostly the occasional drunkard fight but it ends well enough.” Harry placed the Irish whiskey down for the Redwine and leaned on the bar top. “You look as if you need a good drink and a good sleep.” Katherine huffed a laughed at her friend’s words and shrugged taking a sip from the amber liquid. “Don’t I always look this way?” She teased tilting her head. She had always enjoyed Harry’s company; he was kind in his own way and cared for the Garrison like it should have been. This was home and he had taken care of her when she had gotten so drunk she hadn’t been able to stand and he made sure that she would never reach that low again. He had made Katherine promise to not lose herself in her grief or heartbreak. He had been the father figure that she needed after Patrick had been killed. 

“Kat, don’t bullshit me.” Harry shook his head. Katherine spun her glass slightly, his gentle but stern tone was comforting in a sense. It was the same tone he had when he found her in the private room that Thomas always used. She had broken down and cried in Harry’s arms and was more whiskey than person and she was sure her breath could have caused an explosion if she lit a match. Earlier that day they had held a service for Patrick and it had really hit her that he was gone, her big brother, her protector was nowhere to be found. Just like her Tommy, sweet happy Tommy who was able to light up a room with his smile and whose laugh was contagious seemed to have died the same night. Harry had listened as she cried and mourned the lives lost and dreams that were crushed but once she was done he picked her up and helped her upstairs and cleaned her up and put her to bed. He had banned anyone giving her any kind of alcohol in the Garrison until she was able to function. He would be damned if the sweet girl turned into one of the men he served. “I’m fine Harry, I promise.” Katherine was touched as he watched her but before he could comment the doors to the Garrison were pushed open as the one man who she couldn’t stand walked through in the most attention way he could have. 

Fucking Thomas. 

(It will get better I promise but let me know what you think!)

[cerisahh]

arcane season two act three spoilers

(just me wordvomiting)

i’m so happy that in at least one reality silco, vander and benzo get their happy ending.

i cannot even put into words the emotions i felt as soon as silco came on screen i had to pause and pace my room for three minutes before i could even continue. he literally😭😭got a happy ending😭😭😭 he looks so healthy too oh what i would give for an arcane ‘what if’ series

i mean we got a ‘what if’ vi died in jayce’s lab = no hextech, vander and silco rekindled bromance, no jinx, CANON TIMEBOMB, mylo and claggor are alive, and zaun and piltover are practically best friends

what if silco had taken in vi instead of powder/ powder gets taken by marcus instead of vi?? what if viktor mentored jinx?? what if neither silco or vander died?? WHAT IF THEY NEVER FOUGHT IN THE FIRST PLACE????

i need to consume written pieces of alternate!silco oh the fluff 😣 i can feel it already this is just perfect slice of life/married au material let me be your housewife silco i’ll do anything

i’m ngl the ending? did not care for it. i did not care for it, was it a good ending? no i actually dont think so. this season could have been 30 episodes long and id have sat my ass down and watched all 30 twice through… NINE rushed episode and u felt it was rushed too

NO MENTION NOT EVEN A WHISPER OF ISHA? HO DIED AND NOT EVEN A SCRIBBLED HALLUCINATION OF HER? NAAAAH!

THE ORIANNA OMFHDH i NO LIE started wojacking and looking at a fake camera see image below

THATS WHAT I DID I WAS SO GEEKED OMG

i also started crying on episode 7 whenever it would cut from ekko and powder to jayce literally sobbing because he looked like a hobo stop cutting away from timebomb

speaking of jayce… let’s talk viktor!! where did his vi-nis go?? nobody knows.. every time he said glorious revolution i geeked and cringed at the same time DONT GET ME FUCKING STARTED ON SKY “i’ll miss our conversations”… “no u won’t” YEAH NO HE WONT UR BORING 😭😭 actual snooze fest why was she even in his mushroom trip lucidity void fuckfest states oeuuhh im pissed

jayce haters feel really stupid now though huh🤣🤣🤣

circling back to silco jinx hallucinating h. stop. jinx hallucinating him and him not even digging into her he was COMFORTING HER. i can’t even . i can’t . i just cant. i need him.

and now it’s OVER?? no no no this can’t be.. no no.. NOOO!!!! i better see a steady stream of silco fanfics OMG I HAVENT EVEN SPOKEN ABOUT SEVIKA YET

bro her getting a fucking POSITION ON THE COUNCIL was peak my woman DESERVES a happy ending. she was always loyal to zaun and her people and seeing her get to be in that position just yes. so good (im kind of pissed that we got a caitvi sex scene - if you can call it that they just fondled each other - instead of sevika scissoring at a brothel, ok dpmo).

don’t think i forgot about maddie yew stewpid bitch… HER GOOFY LITTLE CHEST BANG LMFAOO then she got shot #DESERVED #WHATHAPPENSTOGINGERSINARCANE

not even going to write anything on mel because although her little storyline was cool to watch i didn’t fucking get it ☠️ ambessa was hot until her untimely end though. lost a muscle mommy today raise your flags

and to summarise!

jinx: probably alive let’s be honest, gone to find herself a girlfriend (lux)

vi: alive and happy with caitlyn

caitlyn: alive and happy with vi

ekko: alive, misses powder (jinx? both)

mel: alive, now has superpowers which is sick, still gorgeous but stuck with that awful black outfit i hated it so badly

jayce and viktor: transported to a doomed yaoi novella after saving runeterra (very sad)

isha: dead?? they never showed us a body but let’s all be real and not lie she is most probably dead. here’s to holding out hope though, maybe she’s ziggs!

ambessa: dead dead dead “you are the wolf” thank you motherrr 😝

sevika: ALIVE!!! got her happy ending YIPPEE!

vi’s bro dude i forgot his name: death by a million arrows RIP

hot firelight bat dude: AAAALIVEEEE!

hot enforcer fish dude: AHHHHLIVEEEE!

maddie: DEAD TRAITOR TRAITOR DIE DIE DEAD

heimerdinger: pretty sure he got zapped out of existence but he’s lived a long time so not that huge of a blow. rip little bro though

and for my own peace of mind and mental wellness

powder: ALIVE AND HAPPY

ekko: ALIVE AND HAPPY

silco: ALIVE AND HAPPY

vander: ALIVE AND HAPPY

benzo: ALIVE AND HAPPY

claggor: ALIVE AND HAPPY he took ozempic too holy damn!

milo: ALIVE AND HAPPY worlds worst mustache though

vi: AL- oh not here. that’s fine i guess

[creatingblackcharacters]

I don't tend to interact with people in general unless they initiate even if i want to, and that goes double with fandom spaces. I very easily miss and forget things, including attempts at bullying around or even toward me. Idk i usually only send asks via Anon, but this question thing is just. Really good. At first, i didn't feel like they applied to me much since i haven't really interacted with fandom spaces since i was 14 anyways and that when i did, i also remember confronting the racism i managed to notice.

But thinking more about it. I know there was a lot of racism i didn't notice or recognise or forgot about immediately and therefore didn't respond to and even if i don't see myself as part of 'fandom' that all definitely also applies to the real world!

My two best friends are mixed and have both told me they'd been called the n-word in fucking kindergarten. My dad's friend's wife who i like and care about a lot not only had to deal with moving from Uganda to a very different country and learn a new language only spoken here, but she and her kids must've dealt with so much anti-Blackness that i have no idea about. There's so many people i know, both friends and close acquaintances who constantly have to deal with something i have such a hard time to understand.

Some family members have the philosophy that saying bigoted shit when only family are around is ok. They think I'm being a spoilsport for getting upset about it even when that certain bigotry doesn't apply to me. It sometimes makes me think that maybe i am overreacting, but if i can't feel comfortable even having them around people who that bigotry would apply to. If i feel embarrassed for being related to people like that, then I'm not overreacting at all when i get upset and tell them to cut it out.

Not speaking out against it means I'm contributing to a terrible environment i know not only hurts people i care about deeply but also so many more. Bigotry in fandom might not seem as serious as in real life, but it reflects how those people are irl and helps normalise an environment where people feel comfortable to be bigoted. Black people not being able to escape anti-Blackness for a second even in fandom shouldn't be accepted as how things just are.

I apologise for the long incoherent rambling, weird wording and focus on myself i just. Asking those kind of questions and doing what you do is invaluable in so many ways. I really hope everyone that's seen your posts are able to apply it both in fandom and art as well as outside of it. Thank you, all your work does make a difference and I'm very happy that I'll be able to be a better friend and ally!

Indeed! Nothing I say here can't be generally applied to how you treat Black people in real life. The perspective holds; you don't consume media in a vacuum.

I sincerely hope you do become a better friend and ally 🙏🏾

[super-ion]

The Engineer

I catch a glimpse of the pilot as she is wheeled towards the med bay. Her eyes have that telltale glaze of just having been wrenched out of herself.

I've never spoken a single word to her, but for a brief moment as the gurney slides by, those eyes briefly clear, ice blue pinning me to the spot. She raises an emaciated arm and her hand almost seems to beckon to me before something in the gurney clicks and whirs and she slips back into catatonia.

That brief moment of clarity, that piercing gaze, unsettles me. She recognized me.

It's neural bleed. I know it has to be. She doesn't know me, but Morrigan does.

Good god. In the pilot's present state of post combat haze, she probably doesn't even know where she ends and the machine begins.

Does neural bleed work both ways? Is it her head that I'm about to climb into?

My wrist strap buzzes. I have a job to do and I am late.

The pilot is a problem for the med team and the psychs.

The machine is my problem.

I hurry down the corridor, keeping my head down, avoiding the eyes of every passerby.

I don't like people.

I don't like how their eyes follow me. I don't like the whispered gossip that follows me.

One of the techs is waiting for me at the vestibule.

I don't know his name.

All clear, he says to me. Time to work your magic.

He says it without sarcasm. Others have been less kind.

Even so, he can't quite hide the leer as I strip down to the skinsuit. I don't have the physique of a pilot. My body hasn't been subjected to the stresses that ravage their bodies. Unlike them, I have fat and muscle and the skinsuit clings to every curve of my body.

I force a cursory smile and try to forget him as I walk barefoot to my destination.

The vestibule is small, windowless. It's impossible to assess the scale of the machine from here. The only part visible to me is roughly four square meters of pitted and scarred metal plating framing the access hatch and the pilot's cradle beyond.

B0-987T the stenciled lettering reads. And below, in flowing script, is “The Morrigan”.

She's a Javellin class, medium weapons fire support unit. She isn't meant to be on the front lines in a skirmish, but one-on-one, she can hold her own against a Wraith. Which is exactly what happened only a few hours ago.

I place a bare palm on the bulkhead. She thrums with some distant vibration. Her reactor is still online, still in the early stages of drawdown as she transitions to dock power.

“Hey beautiful,” I say to her.

I think of the pilot. I think of piercing blue eyes and I think of neural bleed.

I flinch my hand away.

The tech looks at me, asks if I'm alright. I'm fine, I tell him.

I climb through the hatch and into the cradle.

I feel like an interloper here. The cradle isn't calibrated for my body. Everything still smells like the pilot. Mingled with the smell of the machine is her sweat and her adrenaline and the particular scented soap that she prefers.

There is a faint whirring as her cameras track my movements from a dozen angles. The access ports open to receive me.

Against my better judgment, I imagine eagerness for this exchange.

This is immediately followed by an all too familiar sense of inadequacy. The engineers’ rig is not nearly as all encompassing as a pilots’. It's only the most basic neural interface. No haptics. No neurotransmitter feedback. No access to the suite of sensors studded throughout her hull.

I can't interface with her the way her pilot can.

My rig is a remnant from basic training. The pilot corps wanted me for my exceptional ratings in synchrony and neuro-elasticity, but after serval training exercises, they determined that I didn't have the temperament for the battlefield. I froze up too easily.

A neural rig is a massive investment and removing one will fuck a person up a hell of a lot more than installing one. The selection process is designed to weed out washouts before we even get to installation, but some of us still slip through the cracks. Most end up reassigned to logistics, operating loader mechs or piloting long haul supply frigates. But my aptitudes made me ideal for the engineering corps, so here I am.

Morrigan senses my mood and the cradle shifts slightly, aligning itself to my dimensions. Her eagerness to connect morphs into a sort of tender reassurance. It's a slippery slope, ascribing human emotions to these machines, but she does seem genuinely happy to see me.

I can never be part of what she and her pilot have, but I can be part of something in my own way.

The pilot knows about me, she would even without neural bleed. Does she envy the relationship I have with her mech? Does she envy that I can exist both together and apart with the machine?

Is she jealous of us?

Morrigan slips her jacks into my rig and my mind enters hers and I feel tension leave my body. Some dull ache that I wasn't even consciously aware of ebbs within me.

My senses dull and my visual cortex is fed a series of diagnostic logs and telemetry streams. The techs have access to the exact same data, but Morrigan highlights particular data points that she and the pilot flagged. I log them in the engineering report.

A wireframe schematic of the battlefield spreads out in my awareness. Green markers for our battlegroup. Red markers for the pack of Wraith interlopers.

I hear the ghost of music, strange and ambient, like whale song. The first time I heard it, I asked the techs about it. They had no idea what I was talking about. One even suggested I get an eval for some psych leave.

Later I realized Morrigan was singing to me. Or rather she was interpreting tightbeam comm links as something my brain could process. A human mind can't possibly interpret the full datastream, but with Morrigans's rendition, I can suss out the basic meanings. The battlegroup is a choir and Morrigan is playing me their song.

I caused quite a stir when I first made that connection and started flagging battle events the analysts had missed.

I survey the battlefield before me, reconstructed from feeds from TacCom and all the individual mechs.

Morrigan and I have done this enough times that she knows my preferred display layout, but she holds back, allowing me to pull off the virtual displays on my peripheral vision. There's an odd sort of intimacy to it, her letting me take charge like this.

God-knows how many tons of metal and ceramic and miles and miles of wire and optic fiber and see waits eagerly for me to start the playback sim. She wants to show off. She wants me to assess the actions of her and her pilot and tell them they did well.

Other engineers, few as we are, have mentioned similar experiences with their assigned machines.

“Alright,” I whisper so that only she can hear. “Show me the dance. Sing me the song.”

[haunteres]

ֹ ⑅᜔ ׄ ݊ ݂ 𝓞𝙝𝙝, 𝓢𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚’𝙨 𝓘𝙣 𝓛𝙤𝙫𝙚 ﹗۪ ֹ ᮫ ⟢

⌗ smut , nsfw , caught in the act

you and dean had something going. something beyond just fucking. everyone knew it, you knew it, he knew it, sam knew it...

sure, sex was the main thing, but to him, it was just a plus. he cared, he loved you, but did he ever make that clear? no. why? because he's dean! he doesn't do—love. so what did he do? he left. without a word. not physically, given you all were working together, but he stopped talking to you, completely ignoring you, and taking every chance to get away from you, wether it's runs to the store—whatever. he just couldn't face you.

but until one night, you and sam— well, you fucked. to put it bluntly.

and dean, being ever so careless, walked in on the two of you. sam? ontop of you. you? beneath him, hands around his neck. but thankfully, you were both under the sheets, so dean wasn't exactly too traumatized. but being dean, was he ever really traumatized by sex? not really. but when it came to his brother, fucking his—whatever, made him not only angry, but well—just angry.

he didn't even have the right.

but he left as quickly as he came, slamming the door shut. you quickly excused yourself, and sam, being the sweetheart he is and completely understanding you and dean's—situation, let you go without a question. you quickly dressed yourself and called out for dean.

once you finally caught up with him, he was outside, the night sky doing so little to ease the tension, and once he turned his back to look at you, you were met with an angry look.

“my brother? seriously?!” he exclaimed.

you had never seen such a side from dean, to you, more specifically.

“that's not fair! you haven't spoken a word since we last slept together!” you protested.

he sighed, a long sigh.

“look—im sorry. okay? i-.. i shouldn't even be mad. but my brother?” he asked, more calmly now.

“i have needs too, dean. you of all people should understand that. after all, that's all i was. right? someone who you fucked when your dick was hard?” you snapped.

and oh did he feel horrible. he immediately softened his expression, and moving closer to cup your cheek.

“no. never. i love you.” he said, more of a whisper, then he pressed his lips against yours. you, immediately kissed him back.

he stepped, and you followed once you too were back in the house.

“if you were so cock hungry, you should've told me.” he said against your lips. “i'm here now, and i'm much better than sam, i bet. now, let's go kick sam out of that bedroom, hm? we'll be needing it.”

helloo!! this is my first ever smut/nsfw post :3 i loooove dean so mucchhhhh!! i just started watching supernatural just for him and he's been my hyperfixation ever since. tell me if you guys liked this:)) i will make more soonnn!!!!!

[cottoncandybitchfuck]

Burrows End

“It’s interesting to watch someone go from wanting to survive, to wanting to live” -Teedles

“It’s better to go together than to go alone” -Viola

"Gentle parenting is an aspiration but sometimes you have to tell these kids to get out of this fucking bear"-Brennan Lee Mulligan 

"We prepare for the worst that could happen, and the worst has happened and you’re still alive."-Viola

"The truth is that the blue, the monsters, the dust in the air, all that, the real reason that grown-ups talk about this like they have a big secret is because we're scared too. Because as much as you think we know everything, the biggest secret of all is we mostly don’t. And that’s what we hide from you. The thing we hide from the kids isn’t that we know everything it’s that we don’t know everything. Cause we don’t want you to be scared." -Tula

“I can’t put any more effort into being a daughter”- Tula

“You can’t guarantee safety. You can’t guarantee that you get to hold onto everyone forever. What you do get to choose is who you love.” -Tula 

“This isn’t just corruption it’s power. But is there a good type of power?”-Viola

“I’ve seen very powerful people collect power, and I’ve seen un-powerful people do what they can to get by, and I think the things they both have in common is none of them ever seem to have any choice about what happens next. I wouldn’t spend life chasing power. It’s hard enough just to chase happiness” -Tula

“Funerals are so often not for the dead, but for the people they leave behind.”-Aabria Iyengar

“How can you not look back when something sees you?” -Aabria

“If we’re in the dark we know nothing, and if we know nothing, we’re not safe.” -Thorn

“I think the truth is, the monsters were always going to be coming back.” -Sybil

“What are a bunch of monsters to all of us and everything we can do?” -Sybil

“Whatever we have discovered, these monsters were clever enough to make, and they do know it better than us. No matter how much we are obsessed with it, confident that we can harness it, the sky and the water. That’s the blue. That’s where we come from. For all we know, where it comes from is these monsters. So I don’t know where this confidence comes from, but if confidence could keep you alive, then Geoffery would still be here.”-Tula

“There’s always something unknown and scary, monsters in the dark trying to get you, but when you find something in people that can help push that back, you hang onto that.” -Ava

“The radical change that can happen when you are kind in the face of doom can change the battlefield.” -Tula

“Look around us, there is nothing but death, and all I can see is people squabbling.” -Thorn

“If you want power so badly, you have it.” -Bennett

“I think that someone who kills other beings to absorb how they live is something that wants power more than any person I’ve ever seen.” -Viola

“We’ve spoken a lot about hope and a lot about survival, maybe there is something else that we can do that isn’t just pushing them back and hoping that  they don’t come back with a bigger and bigger thing and scarier truck and all these things that will end all of our lives.” -Thorn

“A little pro tip, don’t do a bunch of mass murder, without having a little plan first.” -Olliver

“It was unlucky that we lost dad, and it was lucky that we had you.” -Tula

“Well I don’t like thinking about luck because if things happen by chance , then that means I have no control over what happens to you two or your kids.” -Ava

“You can’t lead with your fists” -Viola

“Chaos is good from time to time, but so is order. There’s a balance. You have to be able to embrace change, but you also have to be able to know when there is structure needed.” -Tula

“Power exists. Power should make you sad and tired. Anyone who seems to like power is suspect.”-Tula

[stickybowl]

just realized there's two kinds of charlos shippers

one being like "yes charlos are literal best friends they will fix whatever argument they have and be back to being the great teammates they are"

the other being "charlos is a toxic codependent relationship they hate each other but also they get each other its all so weird"

[shoezuki]

Thinkin bout Sampo Koski rn as like. His character n what we get of him in honkai star rail and he fucking. He confuses me like. There has to be So Much more to him like

The general vibes of him and especially how other characters treat him is that of comic relief, a punching bag, a goof, just a slick conman causing trouble. It's genuinely difficult NOT to insult him n treat him badly with dialogue options and any time he's even mentioned March 7th hisses at him. He's literally a cryptid in belobog. He's a joke.

But. But. There's his light cone. It makes me insane. It contradicts all of that.

In it he's competent. He's badass. He's omnipotent. He's able to somehow know a sniper from however far away is locked on him and address them specifically.

And even like... in the entire plot of jarilo-vi he's spoken of like he's not much. He's a 4 star character. But he's practically as present as bronya and seele and Gepard and his involvement in the story is ASTRONOMICAL. He has a part in every major event. He's the one who drags the Trailblazers and bronya into the Underworld. He's the one who takes you to svarog, to the overworld again. He gets Natasha and saves you from svarog. He's the first character you ever meet on jarilo.

And he seems to just vanish before you confront cocolia. But no. Sampo is the one who has the last word and wraps up the entire mission on jarilo-vi. He fucking breaks the forth wall. Jarilo-vi both begins and ends with Sampo.

He calls himself shadowy comic relief yet he seemingly orchestrated everything. What is he. What the fuck is he doing. What else is up with him and when will we get more of him. I want to bite into him and tear him apart.

[bonefall]

it is healing to come onto this blog and see basic respect for diasbility after being in other corners of the fandom and reading the words “snowkit could never be a warrior because he wouldnt know what anything is. he wouldnt even know what a clan is because nobody could explain it to him” said in full seriousness

Im..... That statement is so ableist I cannot even imagine the worldview you'd need to have in order to come up with that.

They really think the only way anyone learns anything is through verbal-speaking-words-noises? No one has ever observed something before? Not even once?

This is beyond touching grass, this person just fell out of the fucking Jurassic Period when all they had was ferns and stegosaurs.

I just...

OH YES. I remember my first day of Society Lessons as a hearing person, where the everything was explained to me. Via Audiobook. FIRST they spoke and said, "you are standing on the ground." It was a life changing revelation, and the world began to spin.

But it did not stop.

THEN they said, "there are fingers on your hands." The sensation of flesh and bone crackling into existence is indescribable, but I did not yet know pain, until they told me, "that hurts." I began screaming immediately.

And yet... it continued.

They explained so much. Chairs. Tables. Walls. The sky. Frogs. Ionizing radiation. Breathing. I was told all of it, in one sitting, and only then did I understand. Only when my ears were bursting with normal hearing knowledges, did they begin... my final test.

A strange wall-chair-finger emerged from the sky-of-the-wall, stood on the ground several times, until it was in front of me. A second one came behind it, this one slimmer. The audiobook gave these things names;

Human. Father. Mother. Door. Walking. It was completely impossible to know what these things were until that very moment.

I watch a human dip a hook into water and produce a fish, and I recall my Society Lessons where they called that "fishing." I am decked in the face by a nefarious hooligan, and I have only the audiobook to thank when I know I have been "punched" by a "bad guy." It was only the magic of verbal-speaking-words-noise that made me understand that there are "other people" and that they "do stuff."

Sometimes, even, in "groups."

Before the Society Lessons Audiobook, I knew nothing. I was pure, innocent, uncorrupted by concepts such as "parents" and "door." I am grateful every day that there is no such concept as "being shown things" or "simple logical reasoning" or "looking."

Blessed be those amongst us who escape the horrors of the Society Lessons Audiobook. I pray that you never learn what anything is. Be free! Free as a bird, which also knows nothing and famously cannot learn. 🤗

DEAF/HOH FOLLOWERS I'm losing my mind do you want me to bump a 'Hearing Disabilities Herb Guide' to the top of my priorities? Something you can use to bludgeon whackadoodles like that. This is ridiculous

Obviously not a MEDICINE guide but like; common causes of hearing disability in clan cats. Accommodations for hearing loss vs congenital deafness. Actual difficulties of not having that sense Clan-by-Clan. Debunking of misconceptions like... not being able to learn APPARENTLY.

[katerinaaqu]

One can argue that modernity is by definition the absence of form and that everything can change but either way again I completely disagree with the notion that there is no other way it could be successful. And many fans even got disappointed at the changes and all. Again we have so much connected the idea of "retelling" with "forget the plot" sometimes and it shows to all the "modern retellings" how they miss the point of the material they ellegedly adapt by a mile. Is your opinion and good for you to have it but again I disagree big time. It is a matter of marketing sometimes and like I said many people got disappointed at the changes as well. Many even said "we ignored the changes because music was good" and again i disagree. You might claim that and I can counter we shall never know again I disagree that you cannot be lore accurate. That is my opinion that's all.

I never meant to say over 3 hours although i see why it comes out this way. I meant 3 hours is a length that one expects a performance to have. And again I said many times over that he doesn't need to adapt every single moment of the Odyssey and turn it into a 5 hour thing. I said it would be better to be lore accurate. I literally said nothing of speeding up. Where on earth did that come from? On the contrary. In fact the last saga WAS sped up and it showed to the narrative.

Actually they were not to the Odyssey but to epic cycle and AGAIN that is exactly what I said. I said the first two sagas proved that you can have a LOOSE ADAPTATION (not 100% acurate) and STILL be lore-acurate. Astyanax incident was spoken in just one line in the Iliou Persis. It was given a reason in the musical. THAT is what I expect to see in an adaptation; liberties that work WITH the plot and fill in some gaps. Not something that says "fuck the plot I'll do whatever" that is not an adaptation in my mind or at least not a good one but it also depends on the media.

And I never said you did?! 🤷‍♀️ I said that is the feeling I got from some people who loved the musical who couldn't understand my dislike for it. Where did I say you said that? I said that they state their opinion on THAT matter like you express your opinion on THIS matter. And again why can't you accept that someone has a different idea on what a retelling is? You can say it is. I say it isn't because I do not agree in this method and a story that ignores the most basic parts of a plot does not count as a retelling in my book. It is an original story inspired by a material.

I put the emoji for a reason my friend. I was only half serious on that answer. I am honored you enjoyed my posts which is why also I engage with you and I express my opinion sincerely and directly because I believe we can be honest with each other. And when I said "don't expect me to change my mind" I meant that as an emphasis that I respect your opinion but I would continue to express the same thought and say that I disagree. If that offended you in any way that was not my intention. I see that you are passionate on your subject and I am on mine so I only "warned you" that my answer will still be the same. I NEVER said you are trying to push your opinion on me now I believe YOU shouldn't misunderstand me. I only mention that my opinion will continue to be the same.

And I said a hundred times already that I do not say you try to do the same and I also said that I didn't feel like that with most of fans either. You keep insisting on that but again all I said was that I disagree with you. Why do you feel attacked? If my previous reply seemed harsh I am sorry but again I didn't say you tried to push your opinion I only state what I do with mine.

Okay right back at you. I feel that you are not listening what I say. I again said I do not consider it a retelling because it literally respects nothing of the plot. It is not re-telling the story it is a writing of a new one (again that is my opinion). You disagreed and I disagree. Why do you keep saying that I accuse you of something? Also I said a million times you do not need a word for word thing to have a loyal adaptation. I also stated it a hundred times. Cutting is inevitable. THIS amount of change was optional.

I see. You definitely are free to do so. Honestly it is sad that it comes this way but you absolutely can and you have the right to do so. I am sorry you felt this way perhaps that is because I express my opinion too passionately the same as you. It happens. I am sorry that it comes this way. No I do not block people. If others wish to block me is up to them. It wouldn't be the first time. It is up to you. You do not need to earn Mr for it and I do not live for followers or people who block me

I know I am not a pleasant person and never claimed to be. I am who I am. If that is so unpleasant to you that you wish nothing to do with me is up to you really. No need to warn me about it.

You realize that a fandom has gone off the rails or that it has REALLY taken over when you see "Epic the Musical" tagged under images of Achilles and Patroclus! Like...how are two characters who were both dead by the taking of Troy, yet alone by Odyssey who do not appear not even as a mention for the Underworld as they were in the Odyssey, relatable to this?!

Sorry! XD

[spaciebabie]

at first getting diagnosed with cptsd was like, "yay my trauma has been validated (it always was valid)!" and i really thought that was going to be it, but then i started to do research as i do whenever i realize i have something and learned that!! the way i experience socialization is!! quite horrid actually!!