#they have their own trigger warnings

[rottmnt-residuum]

Are their other villain mutants that were captured by the EPF?

the only mutants from the show that wont show up in the facility are; that goat guy clem, bullhop, fish guy, the dig band, corpse flower guy, piebald (<- she just straight up doesn't exist in residuum actually), and scor-pion

everyone else is either already there, or will be at some point in the future

[expensivemistake]

matthew murdock parallels. earth 65 & earth 616

[sky-kiss]

Orin/GN!Durge: Pride (18+)

A/N: Look just. I dunno. There's that fun lil' solo-satisfaction challenge going around but this is NOT tagged for that because no one should be burdened with Orin lol. But like...I thought it'd be a fun character study? So... now this exists. I'm sorry.

Orin/GN!Durge: Look, by Orin Standards this is Tame

Pride drives her to her bloodkin's bed. They are gone again, off to do the slave-lord's bidding. It tears at her. The memory of their last exchange haunts her, heavy like a touch, like lips tracking up her spine, a tongue pressing to the small of her back.

"Off again, is it? You fly from our pasture so often these days. Our sheep whisper, bloodkin." 

They smile, so pretty, so pale, teeth white, white, white—she likes them better flecked with blood, sank deep into the throat of their shared kills. "And what do Bhaal's sheep say?" 

Pride is why she touches herself. Bhaal's Chosen needs reminding. Orin slips beneath their sheets, leaving her scent on them. She winces, fingers dipping between her legs and finding herself dry. She rarely takes pleasure in something so banal, and the touch is such a little thing. Not sweet like a blade, barely anything at all. 

But she thinks, rotates the memory in her mind, and there. Better. 

"That you have made yourself the Tyrant's toy. Bane's Chosen, they say." 

And her bloodkin had laughed at her. Foolish Orin, fool child—always kept in the dark about their plans. Father’s plans. Orin bares her teeth, twisting. The sheets catch about her legs, silk-slippery, too soft, all of it. Hollow thing, empty thing—and the fingers are not enough, no, no. She thinks of the knife again (their knife, and Orin's stomach clenches, a sharp pang of arousal tearing through her), but cannot find the will to move.  The world narrows to a single point: their laugh. It echoes through her damned skull, slips its tendrils into her flesh, and so she slips a finger inside herself. 

Bhaal's Chosen crooks a finger, making her cross the space between them like one of their supplicants.  

Her heart thunders against its cage of bones, threatening to snap them, as her bloodkin's hand settles at the curve of her throat. They press—delicious pressure until the world's edges go black and curl inwards. "Sweet kin…you doubt our Dread Father?" They trace her cheek with their nose, voice like honey, syrupy-thick. Their left hand comes up, fingers curling against her clavicle, scratching, tapping, in time with her heart. 

She swallows, snarling. Tear it free, yes, tear the traitorous thing from her chest. It ought to have beat for Bhaal alone, but it hungered for her Bloodkin's touch. Weak-flesh, pathetic thing. She lifts her hips to press deeper. The moment she breaks from the memory, the pleasure washes back out to sea, and she cannot will it back. Orin thumps her fist against the mattress, turning her face into the pillow as if to suffocate herself with their scent. 

"The Lordling calls you away, and away you run. He bleats, and you turn your ear." 

Bhaal's Chosen ignores her. "Look at you." 

Her bloodkin hums, curling their fingers, breaking her skin. Orin chews the inside of her cheek hard enough to taste blood. It aches to have them close—like her flesh is too tight. Like it should give way. Heretical thoughts flood her head—they are flawed things. Father made them incomplete. Orin's stomach twists. The answer is to tear them open, yes. Crawl inside, stitch their seams to hers—only then can they be truly whole. 

"Sweet Orin…my gift." 

Orin turns onto her belly, letting instinct wash over her as she sinks further into the memory. Her hand shifts, bones rearranging, stretching, setting until it's their hand. All its familiar calluses, nails sharper, threaten to tear at her insides. Good. Good...oh, it is written, decreed. It is Father Bhaal's will that they should tear one another apart.

"It will be you and I at the end of all things." 

They have whispered this same promise to each other over the years. They will drown the world in blood and carnage. They will build their citadels with its bleached bones and stand amidst the hollowed shells of its corpses. They will kill and kill and kill until it is only them. 

Pleasure swells, and she whimpers, dragging her nails up her belly to cup her breast. She clutches until the flesh gives way. She must imagine it's her bloodkin's nails, taking those few millimeters to press nearer to their heart. 

Orin thinks of the light leaving their eyes, burying her dagger in their heart. Perhaps she will pierce their lungs first, yes—swallow the last of their air…

The changeling shudders, fucking herself harder, gasping at the thought of her kin's knife finding its mark between her ribs. Yes, together. They'll go together, just as promised, just as…

Orin pulls taut, her cry short and clipped. The savageness of her orgasm and its suddenness catches her by surprise, her body clenching on nothing first and then gripping her fingers hard enough to hurt as they press back inside. The longing, the hunger, the emptiness…oh, all these wretched sensations remain…she is never enough to chase these things away. 

It will take more whispers in the dark, more blood, more promises…it will take their lips on her throat and the press of them between her legs as they bask in a fresh kill…

…it will take death, yes. Their blood and flesh mingled. And then Orin will be satisfied. 

[lbulldesigns]

AITAH For accusing my former best friend of trying to break up my relationship, and promptly ending our thirteen-year long friendship?

Posted 18th of May, 2021

I (18 M) need some outside opinions.

Background information. I have been best friends with Pow (18 F) since we were six, I first met her when my Godfather Benny introduced me to his best friend's newly adopted daughters. Both girls had been in the foster system for nearly a year after their parents died, and were lucky enough to get adopted out by their Godfather Van after he was able to track them down and prove to the courts and children's services that he was a safe option.

At first, I was a little intimidated by the older sister, we'll call her Daisy (she's named after a flower and I don't think she'll appreciate me using her real name) because she seemed angry at everyone but quickly put on a friendlier face when she saw how nervous I was.

When I saw Pow, I felt an instant attraction to her (not romantically, I was just interested in how pretty her blue hair was) and ended up spending our first encounter trying to get her to open up and talk to me. She was traumatized by the past year and had turned silent as a result. I felt so proud when I finally got her to smile and giggle, we became thick as thieves afterward, she was my best friend.

We shared everything together, our interest in academics, such as art, mathematics, video games, dancing, robotics, computers, and later DND.

There were some things we did separately. Pow competed in gymnastics, and I would take part in skateboarding competitions. And without fail always came to each other's thing to show our support.

Pow had some difficulties with her older brother Lo (fake name), he constantly took his frustrations out on her and everyone pretty much gave up on him ever getting a clue and stopping. So, we all tried to get Pow to stand up for herself, we figured if she stood up to her "bully" then he would learn to back off. However, Pow was a shy one and never spoke up for herself. As a result, she was hesitant around others and had difficulty making any friends outside of myself.

This became more apparent once we got to high school. We had a few classes away from each other and in these classes, I made some new friends, from there I got convinced to join the basketball team when some of my new friends told me it could help with my college perspectives. In lieu I convinced Pow to try out for the cheerleading squad, as per my new friends' advice, I made it onto the basketball team but Pow didn't make it onto the squad which I was surprised by because she's a pretty decent dancer.

Because I was on the basketball team, I wasn't able to participate in most of the same clubs as Pow and ended up moving on from these interests to focus more on my future, which is understandable because I can't spend every day playing make-believe anymore.

Pow was set in her ways however and seemed to want to continue playing make-believe and seemed determined to hate my new friends. She constantly avoided them and would rather sit alone during lunch than hang around me when they were around, she would always get a sour look on her face whenever they were around me (which was a lot of the time) and would decline invitations to hang out with them, she made no effort to get to know them properly and this hurt. But I still persisted with our friendship because, despite everything, I do care for her.

And then I met my now GF Kara (not her real name), Kara is sweet and funny, she writes me poems and little love notes with cute little love hearts and takes her academic future seriously. She has been trying to convince me that my friendship with Pow is toxic and understands why I couldn't just end the friendship but says that I wouldn't be the bad guy if I did.

I would get uncomfortable whenever she brought this up, but more and more recently I began to see things from Kara's perspective, albeit guiltily. I brought up my concerns with Daisy and her GF, and they were convinced that Pow is probably a bit possessive considering their own problems with her. Pow hates Cat (the GF) and even made her cry after Cat made an offhanded comment about law enforcement that seemed to trigger her. Daisy promised to speak to Pow about everything after everything between them had cooled down, she and Daisy got into a massive blowup about making Cat cry, something that Cat was feeling seriously guilty about.

So, when, three days after Kara and I decided to become official, Pow pulled me aside during lunch and confessed that she "loved me" and didn't want to just be friends anymore. I lost it.

I actually shouted at her in the middle of the lunch crowd and shamed her in front of the whole school. I called her a "possessive psychopath" who can't let anyone be happy, she pretended to look confused and asked what I was talking about, and I reminded her I was in a relationship as in I have a girlfriend. She managed to conjure up some tears and said that she didn't know, but I wasn't falling for it. I flat out, told her that I was done with her and this "friendship" and left her standing there.

At the time I couldn't feel anything but angry, and vindicated. My friends were laughing and joking about the situation, and Kara was super cuddly with me and kept asking me if I was okay and saying that I didn't do anything that wasn't due.

But now I'm questioning myself, with the anger cooled off. All I can see is Pow's sad doe-eyed look and the sound of the rest of the school snickering at her. She didn't turn up for classes for the rest of the day, and on my way home I heard a group of girls sl** shaming her.

Zer, my one new friend that Pow actually gets along with, called me an AH, and she thought I was a better person than that, and that she was now reconsidering her friendship with me.

So, Reddit. AITAH for ending a toxic relationship?

(This is a fanfic, please read tags)

[nururu]

Under a cut because I'm analyzing marineford/ace and it's heavily about suicide/being suicidal

"name a character that didn't run away" and they say ace............. I'm pretty sure he did the ultimate "run away"..... Do people not see aces actions at the end of marineford being..... Suicidal....? He wasn't being a bad ass. definitely think oda was trying to portray how tough being suicidal can be, where, even if you have everything and everyone is there for you, it ultimately doesn't matter. And how tough it is for the people who love the person who's suicidal/has committed suicide. And no matter how they go about helping, at the end of the day, it's up to the individual to choose whether they should continue to live or not. That's why when people say "garp should have stepped up he could've changed everything" Im like???? Because it wouldn't have made a difference at that point. And garp knew that. Ace knew garp loved him. Ace knew his friends and family loved him. Ace knew all of that. Regardless, ace didn't want to live. Oda is trying to make you empathize. He wants you to empathize with the "good guys" and the "bad guys" he wants you to empathize with the pirates AND the cops. He wants you to empathize with the victims AND the abusers. Now, oda takes a stance, you can tell what his stance is and where he resides on the moral scale, but that doesn't mean he doesn't practice and doesn't want you to practice empathizing. Marineford was odas way of saying that your love matters. Even if it doesn't succeed. It's still important to love. People will choose to die if they choose to die, and they should die knowing they're loved. Ace died knowing he was loved. Even if that love wasn't enough to keep him alive. Sometimes it's not enough and it's not your fault and it's not their fault. Idk...... I have so much to say about this. I think so many people miss this about marineford and it's a damn shame bc it has such a powerful message regarding people who are suicidal and people who are left over after someone they loves commits suicide.

[kur4p1k4p1k4]

Just finished season 3 of Castlevania and well. My favorite characters are Hector and Alucard so if you know the show you can probably guess how I'm doing.

[leviiackrman]

I am fighting for my life to be mentally stable and it’s not working

[jankwritten]

Jasico Bingo Challenge: injury

“I thought I was supposed to be the idiot who doesn’t know when to stop?” Nico snaps, dragging a heavily battered and bleeding Jason Grace through camp by the (likely broken) wrist. “You’re supposed to be the one telling me to knock it off, you’re supposed to be the one babysitting me, why would you make me be in your shoes, huh? Are you trying to teach me a lesson, Grace? Because fuck you, it’s working.” 

Jason has the audacity to huff out laughter as if there isn’t a concerning amount of blood staining the back of his shirt. As if his temple isn’t swelling into a lime sized lump, as if his bones aren’t fractured under his skin, Nico can feel how displaced they are, he’s going to be sick about it later. Probably. Maybe. 

“I hate you so much,” Nico says. This is what he gets for thinking Annabeth and Percy would be enough to keep an eye on Jason. What was he thinking? Leaving Jason in the hands of a woman who fell off two cliffs and a man who Nico had to shove in the River Styx so he wouldn’t get himself killed. Of fucking course neither of them thought Jason looking this bad was anything to worry about - they probably look worse. 

Nico cannot think about that right now. He can only drag one stupid self-sacrificial hero across camp at a time. 

“It’s really not that bad,” Jason says, still like he’s laughing, laughing, Nico’s going to shove ambrosia down his throat until he’s better and then kill him. “Nico, relax?” 

A rageful heat Nico hasn’t felt in years sparks up his spine. Relax? Relax? “I’ll relax when you’re not bleeding out,” he says sharply, rounding the volleyball courts. The grass crunches beneath his feet. He can feel, far below, skeletons creaking, moving about in their graves. Responding to him. 

He breathes deeply, but oxygen only fuels the fire. 

“I’m sorry,” Jason says, this time like he almost means it. His wrist goes slack in Nico’s hold, as he finally stops resisting and instead lets Nico’s yank become a guiding line instead. “I’m sorry.” 

The one thing Nico never did, when he was self destructing, was apologize for it. The fact that Jason feels the need to, with him, makes his rage boil over into a sick, sticky slop in his stomach. 

“Apologize to me when you can promise you won’t do this again,” Nico says as he shoves open the Big House door. 

Jason stays quiet all the way up to the infirmary. 

As the Apollo kids flit around him on the cot, Nico looms, arms crossed, eyes narrowed to watch every movement, to make sure Jason doesn’t let them miss anything. 

[midnightsunnyday]

So, I've been thinking over this, and I'm really not trying to come across as rude or offend anyone with my take, but...

What exactly does this fandom want from this game and its characters?

Do y'all want a game featuring good, uncomplicated human men who live by good, uncomplicated human standards and never do anything wrong but with tails, horns, and wings?

Or do y'all want a game about the literal lords of hell and whatever that may entail?

Because I can't be the only one who finds it ironic that the characters who act the most like demons are widely disliked, while the characters who act less like demons are widely liked, right? In a game about dating demons, being demonic or showing any kind of character flaw isn't attractive, and those of us who actually do enjoy the darker themes, when we do get them, are treated as having somehow failed morally for liking it. It makes no sense to me.

And this is in spite of so many posts from this fandom stating how they want their "demons to be demons." That they want complex and interesting characters. That they want to feel like they're in a realm surrounded by devils and engage with all the hostilities and angst and drama and blood that comes along with that, yet in the same breath, can't even handle characters like Lucifer, Belphegor, Asmodeus, Solomon, Simeon, and Diavolo. Characters who aren't exactly nice or fully transparent about their goals or actions. Characters who are a little or a lot fucked up. Characters who are gray at worse, but ultimately, show they are capable of being more. Even if poorly executed by the writers, they tried to show us, to some extent, exactly what we've been asking for. Now we rarely get events or chapters where the brothers so much as even swat a fly, and I can't help but blame that on the knee jerk reaction of the fandom to scream about anything less than flattering.

Which is why I can't help but wonder if Obey Me! Nightbringer does happen to touch on darker themes and characterization, than I can only imagine how well the fandom will handle any of it (my guess is poorly).

Feel free to leave a comment. As I'd really like to have some more opinions on this.

[southsidestory]

Chapter 2: Time to Collect

Mickey has made the Kash and Grab his go-to shoplifting spot. Mr. Lewandowski should send Kash a thank you card; that old polack has been trying to run Mickey out of his corner store for the last five years.

Ian works late shifts on Fridays, so he’s the one at the register when Mickey swings by at quarter to midnight. He picks up a can of barbecue Pringles, puts it back. A box of Twinkies, puts it back. A Kit Kat, puts it back. 

“Where’s the king-size?” Mickey asks.

Ian stares at him flatly. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not letting you steal anything.”

“Sure, you aren’t.” Mickey plants his palms on the counter. “You ever go home, asswipe? Every time I come in here, you’re stocking shelves or brown-nosing customers or doing some other dumb shit.”

“That’s called working. You might’ve heard of it.”

Mickey swipes his wrist over his mouth to erase his smile. “Sounds like a waste of time to me. There’s a lot easier ways to get money.”

“Oh really? Why don’t you educate me.”

Fuck, he’s hot when he smirks like that, all snarky and lopsided.

Mickey makes himself laugh. “What, you a vice cop now? Officer Gallagher gonna get me to incriminate myself?”

“Screw that. Couldn’t pay me a million bucks to be a pig.”

Now it’s easy to laugh for real.

“Guess you’re too good for the police academy, Mr. ROTC.” Mickey picks up a packet of Big Red and turns it between his fingers. “Saving your cherry for the U.S. Army to pop when they fuck you over?”

Ian blushes like gingers always do, pink rushing to fill the pale spaces between his freckles. “That’s different. The Army protects us from foreign threats. Police are supposed to protect civilians inside our borders, but they usually go after the people who need the most help.”

“Look at that, Ian Gallagher’s swallowed the military propaganda whole.” Mickey mimes knocking back a shot. “Washed it down with some Kool-Aid, I bet.”

“Look at that, Mickey Milkovich knows the word ‘propaganda.’ That’s like sixteen points in Scrabble before bonuses.” Ian scrunches up his nose. “Course, you’d have to be able to spell it.”

Smug piece of shit.

“I’d also have to be a fucking loser who plays board games.”

Mickey rips open the Big Red packet, unwraps the foil around a slice, and pops it in his mouth. Cinnamon burns his tongue, but it’s a good heat.

“That’s ninety-five cents,” Ian says.

Mickey chews the gum with his mouth open, as loudly and obnoxiously as he can. “Your math’s off.”

“There’s no math, Mickey. The price is on the label.”

Mickey glances over the torn packet. “Fourteen pieces of gum. Ninety-five cents for all of them. I only ate one, so I owe you seven cents—that’s rounding up, so I’m being real generous here.”

Count those points, asshole.

Mickey pulls all the money out of his coat pocket—a few crumpled twenties and a handful of coins—and picks out a dime to throw on the counter. It bounces right at Ian, who barely catches it before it goes over the edge.

Mickey leaves the rest of the gum behind, says, “Keep the change,” and walks out smiling.

Read all of Chapter 2 on AO3

***

AN: You might recognize this snippet, which I used as a teaser a while back. I made a few changes, but the point stays the same: dumb boys flirting through shoplifting.

Love you @bawlbrayker and @hamspamandjamsandwich who are the best betas a girl could ask for <3

[novustrad]

Anyway, I feel like some of the disappointment comes from the hype.

Personally, I was so hopeful for something new that story writers typically wouldn't touch on (trans Stalker (Stalker becomes Jade)). Getting to see that growth and change would have been amazing.

What we got wasn't awful, but it was short, and it's going to leave us with questions that probably won't get answers for a long, long while.

However, it answered at least one that no one asked. What happens if you turn a [redacted] into a Warframe?

[divine--witness]

this is my account to scream any horrible thoughts inside my head

do NOT interact if you believe my account may upset you in anyway, I will interact with what most people would consider toxic content, do NOT interact if you are a minor, do NOT interact if you believe pwASPD or NPD are inherently abusive.

please send me asks I love talking about myself

information below the cut (I am 18)

I have aspd, I experience extreme bouts of obsession and delusional thoughts. I see myself as divine and an angel, this is not a thought pattern that can be changed and if you try to convince me otherwise it will not be acknowledged

I struggle to form connections but feel free and try, devotion and blind praise is always appreciated

even if I tend to be generally lighthearted I do experience violent fixations and my behavior can be extreme let's enjoy mutual destruction

[mamuzzy-creates-stuff]

FEBUWHUMP 2024 DAY 4 - OBEDIENCE @febuwhump

Devotion The Clone Wars fic Word count: 300 Characters: Commander Fox, Sheev Palpatine Relationship: SheevFox. It can be shippy, but it works as platonic too. I make a tag for it just in case. Warning: Toxic relationship

"Chancellor, I wish you could see into my heart. There is nothing I wouldn't do for you" "I know, Fox." The warmness in the Chancellor voice made Fox's breath quiver on the fragile, veiny hand, which the clone held so carefully as in fear of breaking him. Sheev smiled. This foolish clone. He doesn't even know how to kiss a hand properly, otherwise his lips wouldn't have touched his skin. But a regular clone from the Coruscant Guard wouldn't have dared to initiate such expression of devotion. It wasn't needed. The Guard, especially the shocktroopers were ruthless, smart, efficent. Programmed to be loyal to death even more so than other clones. They proved themselves with deeds, not promises. He would have been repusled if someone else did it. Those subjects of his will, hungry for power, for money, or were loyal to him by sheer cowardice. Fox being so theatrical was also completely unnessecary and yet it amused him. Flattered him even. This commander who wasn't the bred to be a shocktrooper came from the battlefield, straight from the trenches. Fox was a beast needed to be tamed to his will but the thing with foxes, the more you corner them, the more vicious they would become. He needed a different approach. There was fire in Fox. Fire in those amber eyes, rage in that heart. Wrath of Coruscant, the troopers called him like that behind his back. Fox's obedience wasn't due to some programming. It was born from the same fire, it was devotion. It was love. And it was dangerous. Unpredictable. Love, just like fire needs constant kindling otherwise they would burn out before time. "I see you, my dear commander." It would be shame just to extinguish his flames but he will have to get rid of Fox. Eventually.

[psychicbluebirdmiracle]

heya, so I know we both really like epic, and I’m gonna release my thoughts on the wisdom saga in a little bit and i have somehow started accumulating a list of people who wanna be tagged when I post it, so I figured I would ask you too!

no pressure either way ofc, just figured I would ask!

Oh yes please do!!! I'd love to see your thoughts!!!

[mosspapi]

Once again trying to decide whether or not I should make a dedicated sideblog for my sh shit. We live in a society bottom text

[gardenpansy]

// The Wiring Event // Documentations

The relentless and purposeful injury to the brain is essential for creating the machine that is the adult product of trauma.

Interference, which is discouraged, allows the development of self-identity, self-assurance, and trust.

Discrediting interference establishes doubt in the machine’s self and surroundings, and ensures consistent and lifelong dependence upon the creators and bystanders.