#this is all stuff that takes a long time to process and a long time to master

[quarterlifekitty]

Moth girl getting into that state with nesting, being tired, her belly hurts and she's just acting off.

König already knows it's the time of the year when she lays eggs. But some time passed, and she still didn't get better. Still didn't come out of the pillow nest.

When he's checking up on her, her belly is round and swollen, but the eggs are not coming out..

König having to help her out. Carefully pressing down on her belly, rubbing her little pussy to stimulate her and trick into finally letting the eggs go.

(I made that up, it lives in my head rent free.)

cw: egg laying stuff, overstim

König’s heart aches when he looks down at you, squirming and sluggish all at once, the distention of your belly obvious. His precious mottechen, so uncomfortable and full.

The only struggle he experienced was internal as he pulled you from your nest of blankets and pillows, your usual pips and chirps replaced exhausted whines.

He’d been warned that this could happen. That sometimes hybrids have trouble expressing, especially if the eggs are unfertilized.

He’d gotten you into bed, your back to his stomach with your legs spread and ankles hooked over his thighs.

One of König’s massive hands is splayed over your abdomen, cupped to create a bit more pressure from his gathered fingertips as he rubs ellipses over you.

Your hands grip weakly at his forearm as he tries to stimulate you. You look up at him with barely formed tears gathering at your waterline from how long and tiring this process has been, keeping you exhausted and restless at once.

“Ich werde es besser machen, liebling, I promise,” he coos, shifting his legs to spread you a little better. It feels… a bit wrong to be touching you this way when you’re not well. Like he’s taking advantage, even though he knows it’s the least invasive way to help you. It doesn’t help that you can definitely feel him hard against your back.

His touches start feather-light on your clit, flicking and rubbing to try to spur your inner muscles into making the necessary contractions. His petting and stroking gets heavier, until your hips are twitching and your eyes clench shut with the strain as you pass the first egg in your clutch.

König lets out a breath he’d had no idea he was holding as the cream colored egg slips onto the towel beneath you. It’s a little bigger than the ones in your last clutch had been, which is probably what caused the issue, if he had to guess. His poor little siedenmotte.

The ones after the first come much easier, thank god. He wasn’t sure he could handle seeing your face twisted in pain much more than he already had.

He grinds his teeth, sick with guilt when you thrash against him with what must be the last of your strength— your legs twitching as you try to free yourself from his hold, from the overstimulation. But he has to make sure you’re not holding onto anything, so he keeps you pinned, pressing down on your belly while two of his fingers find a home inside of your sore cunt. He makes you cum, finally, and heaves a sigh of relief when you don’t produce anything more.

Your eggs, which he typically finds laid in an array with almost mathematical precision, sit in a sticky pile on the towel. Not quite as many as usual, but noticeably more girthy, not as uniform either. He hoped it didn’t mean you were sick.

He puts the towel off to the side to be dealt with later, focusing on untangling your legs. He lays with you on his chest, and he starts to hum an old song he remembers from his childhood so you can feel the rumble in his chest. He doesn’t have the deepest voice, but it seems to do well enough for you, relaxing you enough to let your eyes close.

When he feels you’re recovered enough that he feels he can leave you alone to rest, he’ll dig out a flashlight from his dresser to shine through each of your eggs, just like always, just to make sure there’s nothing in them before they’re returned to you.

Hopefully you’d be back to your usual self tomorrow. He isn’t sure how much more of this his heart can take.

[warping-realities]

All For The Family - Part 2

���Ryan… Ryan… bro… wake up!”

Brian didn’t wanna wake up; that dream was where he wanted to be. No worries about work, no competition with his brother… brother? What brother…?

“Ryan, brother, get up… NOW!!!” Someone yelled, chucking a pillow at him, waking him up with a start.

Br-Ryan shot up, “WTF? What’s with the pillow, RJ?”

“We’re late for work, you dumbass! Dad’s gonna skin us alive if we take too long. Get your act together!” The muscular guy in front of him said. Ryan still remembered the dream, envying the other guy’s body. Could he ever reach that size? Wait, why would he want to be that big? Something felt off… that dream… and…

“Dude! Get up right now or I’m dragging your skinny ass outta there!”

“Okay, okay, just let me take a shower and brush my teeth!” Ryan replied, getting up and deciding to worry about strange dreams during his downtime. Easier said than done, because as soon as he stepped into the bathroom, a surprise awaited him.

“What The Fuck!” he exclaimed, staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The skinny physique he was used to had been replaced by a toned body, like he actually lifted weights, either at the gym or on the job. The physique in front of him was the same as in that dream… had it really been a dream? Maybe it was a memory… but how could he remember something he never lived? Or had he lived it? While he tried to process that info, he was interrupted by RJ, standing in all his muscular glory at the bathroom door. Had he gotten even bigger in the last few minutes? No way, that’d be impossible!

“Bro, you’re playing with fire! I know you’ve made some sick gains since you started working here, but now’s not the time to be admiring yourself!” said the muscle giant, though he sounded more satisfied than scolding. More importantly, that explanation made sense in Ryan's confused mind, causing a smile to spread across his face as golden sparks surrounded him.

“Okay bro, just a minute. I really gotta pee.” He said while sniffing his armpit, finding the smell acceptable; even if it wasn’t, he knew the shower would have to wait. After a long pee, he grabbed his clothes tossed by the bed—a worn-out pair of jeans, a tank top, and work boots—and headed for the kitchen, following the familiar path he had taken for months. The first thing he noticed was the delicious aroma of Mrs. Abernathy’s cooking. Following that scent, he found her chatting with Debra, lunch already well underway. The two didn’t even seem to notice his entrance into the cozy farmhouse kitchen; they were so caught up in their lively conversation. For some reason, Mrs. Abernathy looked more radiant today, as if the weight of a few years had been lifted from her, and even Debra seemed to glow. It must be the joy they were sharing at that moment, Ryan thought.

Not wanting to interrupt, he turned to the table where the two biggest guys he’d ever known were seated, Mr. Abernathy, Roy, and Roy Jr., RJ. They both smiled at him, taking up the whole kitchen with their massive frames.

“Jesus, Ryan. You took your sweet time, son. Sit down and eat a good meal; today’s gonna be busy, so even though we’re late, I don’t wanna risk seeing you hit the floor from lack of fuel!” Roy said, still smiling, but that last part made something click in Ryan’s mind, something about…

“And what about my car?”

“Oh bro, don’t sweat it, we’ll check it out at some point today, either after lunch or later in the afternoon. Now, do what Dad said and stuff your face!” RJ replied. Realizing he was starving, Ryan sat at the table and began piling food onto his plate, way more than he’d ever eaten in his life… or had he? He had the distinct feeling that this was the usual routine every morning since he started working here… so why did it feel so… new? He was trying to wrap his head around that incongruity when a loud burp next to him made him turn to RJ, who was laughing openly.

“Damn, that was a big one! Come on, Ryan, show us what you got!”

“I… I don’t know if… I should!”

“Come on, son, better out than in, and with all you’ve eaten, your stomach must be bubbling.” Roy encouraged as Ryan realized what he was saying was true; he was stuffed, and something was pushing up from his stomach with high pressure until “Burrrrrp.” Ryan let out an even bigger burp than RJ’s. It sent all the guys at the table into fits of laughter, while Mrs. Abernathy shot them a disapproving glance.

“Boys, have some manners at the table!” she said with a serious expression.

“Marisa, leave the boys alone; boys will be boys, right?”

“Then let them be far away from my kitchen!”

“Alright, alright! Time to get to work, boys… and Ryan, I’m really proud of you; you’re showing yourself to be the right kind of man!”

Hearing that made Ryan beam, golden sparks erupting around him once again.

After that, the real work began. Harvesting was tough. The more experienced Roy and RJ took turns driving the combine and the truck that collected the grains, while Ryan helped guide the flow of seeds to make sure they didn’t fall in the wrong spot. Every grain counted, given the family’s tight financial situation. Ryan wondered how they managed without him? Having been there for a year, arriving shortly after the last harvest, he now understood why the family treated him with such care; the work must have gotten a lot easier with him around. After they finished the hearty lunch delivered by Debra in generous portions, without even leaving their vehicles, Roy called for a break. There were only a few acres left to harvest, which could be done the next day. So if the boys wanted, they could work on Ryan’s old Mustang.

As they arrived at the barn, laughing and chatting like the good friends they were, RJ asked Ryan to wait while he grabbed the tools for the car repair. Still chuckling at a story RJ had just told him, Ryan sat down on an old bench. This was the first moment he’d been alone for more than a few seconds since he arrived at the Abernathy home… from where? Didn’t his car have a problem? But his car was currently covered by an old tarp in one corner of the barn and looked like it had been sitting there for months collecting dust. He was sure he had been working for Roy for a year now, but where had he worked before that? The answer that popped into his mind was a bank? But that didn’t make sense; why would he work at a bank? Those were the thoughts racing through the young man’s mind, with light brown hair and well-toned muscles, until he was interrupted by a persistent voice.

“Ry… Ry… RY!!! What’s up, bro? You look like you’re on another planet!”

Ryan looked up to see RJ holding a wrench, his work tank top discarded somewhere along the way, and a worried expression on his face.

“Hey… b-bro… do you remember where I worked before I came here… was it at a bank? I can’t seem to recall what I did after college…”

“Ry… this is a joke, right? Someone like you could never work at a bank! And college? Guys like us don’t do that!”

“Guys like us…?”

“Yeah, man, guys of the land, manual labor, real men. Like me, like you!” RJ replied, smiling.

“You think I’m like you?”

“Of course, you’re exactly like me!”

Hearing that sparked a fire of acceptance in Ry’s chest, which somehow led to another wave of golden sparks surrounding him as a smile spread across his face.

“Now let’s get to work on what you’ve been itching to do, let’s fix your car, bro!”

“Hell yeahh!”

Hours passed as the two worked on Ryan’s red Mustang; there was a lot to do, but luckily they both knew their way around cars. Right after leaving school, Ry had jumped from city to city taking on various jobs, the longest being at a mechanic shop, where he had coincidentally acquired the car they were now trying to fix.

“Man, I’ve always been obsessed with cars. To me, the American Muscle Car is the pinnacle of automotive achievement!” an excited RJ said.

“Dude, I totally agree with you. I needed to have this beauty here. I knew with the right work, it’d be perfect! I don’t get why my brother got so mad at me!” Ry replied, stopping immediately after that comment. Did he have a brother?? Then why couldn’t he remember his face or even his name? He wondered, an expression of anguish creeping his bearded man's face as his defined muscles involuntarily tensed in discomfort.

“Shit…” RJ muttered quietly before quickly recovering. “Your brother? Bro, I’m the closest thing you’ve got to a brother, and I’d never criticize you for buying a badass car like this! It’s like you haven’t learned in all these years we’ve known each other that I’ll support you even in your cra ziest ideas, just like you support me in mine, and buying the Mustang isn’t even close to being as wild as some of the things I’ve done!”

“Years…?”

“Now you’re really worrying me, brother! Dude, we’ve known each other since we were kids! My greatest joy was when you came to work with us right after we graduated. Can you imagine? Working with my best bro!”

“Best bro? I… I’m your best bro?”

“Of course you are, Ty! You and I are best bros for life!”

“Best bros…” Ty repeated, a smile breaking across his face as the biggest wave of golden sparks enveloped him, his strong, toned muscles relaxing as he looked at his lifelong best friend.

“Sorry, man, I’m feeling kinda weird today.”

RJ, sensing that the thinh they are doing was coming to a close, went for the final push while discreetly notifying Roy that their plan was nearing its climax.

“Chill out, man, I know just the thing to help! How about we take a break here and really work out? My muscles are aching for a pump, and even though you’re not a skinny twig anymore, you still have a ways to go to catch up to me.”

“This is definition, bro!”

“No, this is malnourishment, Ty! Let’s head to the back right now.”

The two moved toward the back of the barn, where there was a separate room that, to Ty’s surprise, was basically a fully-equipped old-school gym.

“Wow man, this is sick as hell!”

“Ty, bro! You talk like you don’t live here with me and haven’t used Dad’s gym since we were kids, even though you still seem like a little weakling to me.” RJ said, grinning.

“Shut up, asshole!” Ty shot back, mirroring RJ’s smile. But that quickly faded as he sat down, lost in thought.

“But it’s true, that’s what I’m trying to tell you, man. It feels like something’s off with me. You’ve spent the whole day reminding me of things I already know; I feel fine for a while, and then everything gets muddled again. Am I going crazy?” he questioned RJ who was standing right in front of him, wearing nothing but some extremely short shorts that showcased his massive muscles.

“Ty, bro, you need to stop worrying about that. Now it’s time to work out and try to get close to this!” he said, flexing his powerful chest and arms.

“I… work... out? Yes! But… I… don’t remember… that’s what I’m telling you… there’s something… missing…”

Before RJ could respond, a deep voice interrupted them.

“Can I know what’s going on here?” Asked Roy Abernathy in his work clothes with a serious expression.

“Roy… Mr. Abernathy… I’m sorry… it’s my fault… I wasn’t feeling well, and RJ wanted to cheer me up…”

“I know, son. What I want to know is why you didn’t say anything. You’re like a son to me, TJ. I expected you to see me as a father too!”

“Like a… father?”

“Of course, boy! I’ve watched you play with RJ in these fields since you could fit in the palm of my hand. I’ve followed your football games from Pop Warner all the way to the state championship semifinals in high school. You’ve brought me as much pride as my own son, boy.” Said the bigger man with a smile.

That seemed to trigger the golden sparks once again.

As the trademark smile spread across TJ’s face, knowing how little time they had left before their work was finished, Roy quickly stripped down, donning only some shorts that were just as tight and short as his son’s. His muscular body was less defined but much larger in mass and power.

“Let’s go, kid, take off those pants and show me what you’ve got! Who knows, maybe one day you’ll match this!” he said, flexing his arm and grinning.

“I think that’s pretty unlikely, Roy, but let’s see what I can do!” TJ replied, smiling.

“Start with the warm-up, son! How about some squats?” Roy suggested as the younger man positioned himself.

“And, TJ?”

“Yes?” TJ answered, starting the exercise.

“My friends call me Roy. My sons call me Dad! Show me who you really are, son!”

That phrase, amidst his concentration on the exercise, ignited a new wave of golden sparks. As TJ squatted down and pushed up, his mind flooded with various memories: childhood days playing with his twin brother, who was just a few minutes older, under their father’s watchful eye. The two brothers, inseparable best friends, taking care of the farm chores together. The football games that had led them to the semifinals of the state championship. The decision to stay on the farm to help their parents with the work. Finally, the gaps in his memory were filled. He finally knew who he was. With one final push upward, Tyler James Abernathy finished his warm-up set, smiling at his father and his brother.

“Warm-up done, old man; how about we move on to something real?”

“Not before you do what I asked; show me what you’re capable of. Flex for me, son!”

“Dad, come on!” TJ replied, a bit exasperated.

“Hey, are you gonna let an old man outdo you?”

Smiling at his dad, who despite being frustrating was still his greatest role model, TJ flexed his massive muscles as a grin spread across his face.

…..

As the sun set that day, the twins walked home, chatting animatedly after making significant progress on the Mustang’s repairs. However, they stopped dead in their tracks when they encountered an unexpected scene that made their cheerfull expressions turn serious.

Their father was standing with his arms crossed, staring at someone with his imposing physique blocking their view. But both knew their dad’s posture well enough, even from behind, to tell he was fuming. And a very angry Roy Abernathy was exactly what the other man was seeing.

“I already told you I haven’t seen the guy you’re looking for, officer!” Roy said, his voice steady but firm.

“I don’t want to doubt your word, Mr. Abernathy; I’m just asking to take a look around your property. The last I heard, my brother was supposed to come here yesterday. Brian is many things I don’t approve of, but irresponsible isn’t one of them,” the man said, stepping into the twins’ line of sight.

“Hey, you two, I’m Officer Lucas Harding. Have either of you seen my brother Brian?”

“Fuck!” exclaimed a startled RJ.

Just as Debra and Marisa Abernathy emerged from the house, and Roy turned to his sons. All eyes were fixed on TJ, who stood frozen in place while the same question ran through the minds of the rest of the family, what had gone wrong? Worse than that: what else could happen?

Continue....

[25centsoda]

Tagged by @jediscribe! <3

Long Awaited, Unexpected summary: "Young padawan Luke Skywalker and his master Obi-Wan Kenobi get a visit from Inquisitors. It will change their lives—and Vader's—forever." Basically, Luke and Obi-Wan get drugged and taken by Inquisitors and Vader goes "omg is that my son" and hugs Luke while Obi-Wan is #suffering in the corner. The final chapter is partially written but needs to be finished.

Crawl Before You Can Fly is inspired by Ursula K. Le Guin's The Fliers of Gy, a short story within her book "Changing Planes", wherein some humans grow wings at age 18-19. It's a long, fever-intensive process that basically incapacitates you for a year. F in the chat for Luke, who was just starting this process when he went on the Cymoon-1 mission, and got discovered - and captured - by Vader. :) The fic will be a VERY long one, featuring Luke's entire year, going from "out of his mind with fever and sleeping all the time" to "got some functioning back but needs to learn how to operate these new limbs" to "learning to fly" to "fully functioning again now let's take down the government". I plan to write it as a oneshot collection, with installments of various lengths. Basically, it's a lot of whump and family bonding - and eventually murder! First installment will be Cymoon-1 and the lead-up thereto, then a 5+1 where Vader tries to get a feverish Luke to comprehend the "I am your father" reveal. Other planned installments include Piett #suffering, and Palpatine being delighted that he has a new propaganda piece in the new Imperial Prince. Luke has a rough time, but I'm having so much fun.

The Language of Love summary: Lighthouse keeper Din Djarin has finally left his bloody past behind him and lives on a secluded coastal island with his nonverbal son, Grogu. Life is quiet and routine until a mute merman washes up onshore and refuses to be thrown back into the ocean... | Ft Cara Dune, Moff Gideon, and Din et al getting dragged to the deep by Luke's father as both Din and Luke's pasts come back to haunt them. It's got AAC (based off of my boards and others found online), it's got Little Mermaid vibes, it's got murder, it's got magic, it's got complicated family stuff. I tried to finish it before the summer ended but then I got hella busy, and then Fliers of Gy took over my brain lmao. I have 3 chapters out of 5 written, the 4th chapter is started, and I have plans/ideas for the last two chapters.

Tagged here by @kimium!

Rules: Make a 24hr poll listing the titles of every WIP you want to work on. (It’s fine if you only have one, still make a poll for the vote count). Whichever WIP title gets the most votes, write 1 sentence for every vote received.

Here are your options…

These are the only options at the moment, sorry!

Tagging: @waythroughtheice @tyrantchimera @emeraldthelynx

Feel free to play or ignore!

[thewitchblue]

"I told you not to touch that."

You had warned a very curious Tim repeatedly. This one wasn't anything harmful. You simply didn't want him touching your potions. It was a very annoying potion to make.

You had left it boiling on a burner while you got a snack, but Tim shut off the burner to touch your half-baked potion. You had no idea how long he's had it off the burner, but it wasn't boiling anymore.

"What does it do?"

He didn't have the guts to do anything but hold the boiling hot beaker. At least, not in front of you. He felt like he was a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"It was SUPPOSED to be a present for Jason, jackass. Now it's ruined."

You aggressively took the breaker from Tim and borderline slammed it down on your windowsill. You stormed over to your burner and turned it on again. Maybe you can salvage it. It had stopped boiling because Tim was too curious for his own good.

"Oh."

Tim looked embarrassed. You didn't bother to tell him it was liquid weed, so Jason could stop stinking up the manor when he smokes.

You were sick of getting accidentally drugged because Jason left brownies out without a "do not eat" sign. You think Jason secretly likes drugging people, but there was an unspoken agreement: shut up and leave the drugged person alone.

You were hoping this potion would get him to go to you instead of some shady drug dealer, but Tim doesn't need to know any of this. This is between you and Jason.

"Do me a favour and never touch my stuff. My next potion won't be so friendly."

You grumbled. You were the family witch. Yes, the stereotypical potions and general magic. You learned from Constantine and Zatanna how to use spells, but potions are where you shine.

You are called The Alchemist at night and are feared mainly due to how prepared you are. You had a potion for anything and everything.

The villains actively avoid you as a result of your preparation. You're seriously more prepared and paranoid than Batman in a lot of cases.

Scarecrow is the only one salty enough to go after you. He wanted you as an apprentice, but he's not getting anywhere by kidnapping you on the occasion. Come on, just give him one potion that he can replicate if he can't have you on his side!

Joker found you boring, Bane doesn't want to tango when you take away his muscles with a potion, Ra cares more about physical combat, and the list goes on. It's ridiculous, truly.

You were actually quite close to Poison Ivy, however, and she supplies you with various plants for you to use. You even send her photos to update her on how the plant is blooming with a thank you text (yes, you have her number, score!)

Being a Wayne helps with the potions as well. You can get you an endless supply of various metals, chemicals, and powders to work with alongside the plants. You often question if you are on a government list somewhere. It doesn't look good to order 15 kilograms of gunpowder and potassium nitrate.

The family doesn't know any of this, but then again, they don't know much about what you do. They rarely ask questions about your potions except nosy Tim, who refuses to leave your room until he knows more about whatever potion you are making at the time.

"I was curious!"

He tried to defend himself, which failed as you retorted,

"And you could have had your finger dissolved if you touched it! For the brains of the family, you really are stupid."

Does he have no sense of self-preservation? Why on earth would he touch a mysterious liquid? Survival of the fittest indeed.

Tim scoffed. How else is he supposed to find out more information if he knows nothing about the process? You had all your potions memorised! No recipe book, no paper trail, you even have a witch/magic users pack between Zatanna and Constantine, so they won't tell the family anything. He can't even identify all the plants you use so he could test them.

"You're lucky I make weapons for you guys. Some of this stuff takes weeks! I have 9 of you guys running around, using MY supply because you guys don't use your potions wisely. What if I needed the paralysing potion for Bane, but uh-oh, you stole it from me, so I can't do anything."

Tim had no excuse. He's, admittedly, stolen more than a handful of potions to reload his weapons, and he's not the only one. He tried to smooth over your irritation. In a nervous tone, he said,

"I'm sorry. I would be surprised if you didn't notice the missing potions, though."

Damn right, you'd notice it. What kind of alchemist would you be if you didn't notice your missing stash and resupply? Granted, you also have the power of bullshit spells that you learned from John and Zatanna, so you aren't entirely helpless, but it's annoying reaching for an imaginary potion on patrol and needing to trudge all the way home just to restock.

"I think you need to keep your hands to yourself. I might have to redo this potion now. Please tell me you didn't touch the potion itself."

You wouldn't know how to handle a high Tim Drake. You tried to keep your eyes on him while putting your potion back on the burner. Is the weed in his bloodstream, or are you safe to continue your drug cooking?

He gave an awkward smile. He may or may not have smelled the potion. It smelled like a freshly mowed lawn, and the tiny sip he took tasted like an apple. When all you got was silence, you groaned and said in disbelief,

"Oh, fuck, of course you did."

Just your luck. The drug will hit Tim any second now. You ran a stressed hand through your hair before turning to him and saying sternly,

"You are going to sleep on my bed and let the potion run its course. Do. Not. Leave. This. Room. Got it?"

Tim looked confused, but what does he know about magical potions? If you say let it work through him, he'll follow instructions. He sat on your bed and then it hit him.

"Woah, what the hell did you do to me? Were you trying to lace Jason with something?"

You frowned and physically pushed him onto the bed. You quickly swaddled him like a baby in a sea of blankets.

He can not leave this room. Bruce would murder you. You were supposed to be the good one. The only one who caused no problems (to their knowledge).

"Tim, look at me."

Tim did not, in fact, look at you. He was distracted by all the plants you have in your room. Did someone drop off more plants in the time he's last been in here?

"Did you get more plants?"

You huffed. You didn't. They have only grown since he's been snooping in your room. You tried to get his attention by snapping your fingers and calling his name,

"Tim?"

When he continued to look around with rapidly reddening eyes, you squished his face in your hand and forcefully pushed his face until it faced you.

"Tim, you are going to sleep. I'm going to play some music for you and we are going to forget all about this when you feel better."

You can make a potion to erase recent memories. Tim can't know you are making drugs in your room. Nobody can know except Jason.

You decided to turn on some calming music in hopes he would drift off, which seemed to be working as his eyes drooped, and he smiled at you like he knew something you didn't. He was lost in his thoughts, clearly.

You wondered what was going on in that big brain of his. It didn't matter. He can blaze in blissful peace while you deal with his mess.

You kept the music quiet and soft like he was at a spa. You hoped the combined warmth of the blankets with the soft music would work faster.

With a sigh, you stood up from your position at his bedside. This is not good. Tim needs to learn when to leave your stuff alone. What if you boiled his blood or poisoned him? It's best to leave the witchcraft to the witch.

You watched him like a hawk. His thoughts seemed to be slowed and sluggish. You supposed you can bottle your potion after all. Should you put a dropper on it? Normally, your potions soak through the skin and clothes, but you were extremely careful with this one.

You gave his forehead a small kiss once he fell asleep. You went to your bottles while shaking your head in disapproval. You were very happy with the results of the potion, not so much with the tester. You would hate to think about what could have happened if you didn't swaddle him. Would he be walking around high and babbling about funny potions? Probably. He was already hallucinating pleasantly by the time he passed out.

You were so lucky that Tim didn't get the potentially dangerous symptoms. You can handle a mellowed out Tim, but not if he was going through psychosis.

After successfully bottling and hiding the potion, you pulled out one of your memory potions.

You felt bad drugging him then making him forget about it, but you can't have him telling anybody, whether accidentally or purposefully.

You know you could just tell Bruce that Tim touched a memory potion on your burner, and he'd believe you, but why draw in the eyes of Batman? He would want to know about all future potion making.

You frowned as you put one drop on his forehead and watched it sink in. He won't remember any of this.

You were a bit overprepared, but you were Batman and Constantine trained. Of course you'd have some weaselly way out of accidentally drugging someone.

Oh, John would be so proud of you.

[hinamie]

unconditionally

[bowsbar]

pillowbook thoughts because ive been thinking about them all day!

[sukunas-wife]

HAH BACK IN TIME FOR CHRISTMAS! I was working on a little Christmas piece but ran out of time it’s 11:55 so have a little foot ball Sukuna head canon 🤍🤍🎄🎄🌟 and-

MERRY CHRISTMAS

Sukuna is the kind of player who if you’re talking to him when he needs to go change in the locker room, will drop his helmet on your head and rip his jersey off and throw it over the helmet and guid your blind into the locker rooms and you’ll just stand there yapping and all his teammates are spilt between hating it, or smiling because “No way in hell Sukuna brought her in here”

On away games, it’s a given that for your boyfriend you make him a little care pack, and I don’t mean a blanket a pillow and lip gloss and all that stuff, he was confused at first when you said you wanted to give him something, he was ready to roll his eyes and say “No I don’t need your Hello Kitty keychain bullshit to remember you, I’ll literally be backing in the morning” he actually does hang your Sanrio keychain on his duffle bag and flexes it hard and flips off his teammates for trying to bully it, but some of them low key think it’s cute and kinda funny so some of them end up getting funny little plush keychains for their own bags- but that’s not what happens, he’s actually surprised when you give him a little bag with icy hot patches, Gatorade, little snack protein bars he carries around, candies he usually steals from you ZzzQuill, he actually cracks a small smile and laughs amused, nodding as he tied the bag taking it away with him

When it’s a long day, and he’s groaning in aches and pains, he’ll lay face down shirtless in bed, and just hand you a bottle of Icy Hot, Tiger Balm or Cortisone cream, he showed you how to wrap a gauze so you can rub him down and wrap up his achey parts, sure the room smells and your eyes water a bit, but he loves you all the more, he’ll hug you into his side and order takeout and let you choose a movie more often than not, he’ll fall asleep in the weirdest positions if he’s not crushing you with his weigh

Your purse, bag, book bag, pockets (if you have em) sometimes even your jacket hood will have one of his snacks stored away in it and you won’t even know, there you are talking to him and he casually pulls your purse from you opens it up and there’s a magically a protein bar he starts eating, he walking with you as you complain about your bag being heavy and he gives you a weird look and leans back to look ah your bag, “Oh, that’s where I left it” and he’ll pull out a blender bottle full of whatever drink he chose that morning, not his favorite as when you run up to hug him during the winter, he’ll wrap an arm around your shoulder, look down and use his free hand to drop something into the hood of your jacket and once again at the most unexpected time he’ll reach behind you, pull it out and offer you some as if he didn’t just shake you around by your hood just to get a snack out of you

Games: if he doesn’t see you immediately and it’s not play time yet, you can see him just yawning and looking around bored, but internally he’s looking for your face and mumbling “Where’s that woman at?” It’s a related process, as he stands and walks around, just looking, the same sentence reworded, “Woman, where are you?” Where’s my woman? “I can’t see her, where the hells she a- oh there she is”

People think he’s a flirt, and likes the attention, the truth is, he doesn’t care much for female or male attention, he’s doing it all for the chance to make it big and make big money, so when women are crying out for him, he just seems uninterested and says “let me introduce you too” and drags whoever is closest to him to deal with whoever was trying to touch him

When he’s making impressive plays, in the moment he doesn’t dare look at you, he says if he wants to see you smile it’s not going to be a sympathy smile because he fucked up, it better be a smile because you saw the complicated shit he just pulled

When he lands a touch down, he doesn’t gloat or look at cameras, he looks directly at you with a hard stare (it’s not intentional, he’s just in the zone) and he point at you, that’s it, no heart or air kiss, no you just need to know, that’s his way of saying ‘That’s for you short stack’

Winning games, go one of two ways, he loves to just go home and groan and lay on the bed or sofa and doesn’t even shower just stretches out all his sore muscles and just relaxes with you i til he decides you can get up and shower and order in whatever food, or he showers and changed in the locker room and takes you out to eat, he actually hates bars, he hates fast cheap drinks, even at expensive bars he feels like his drinking experience should end in 5 minutes, so he takes you out to dinner in a nice place, sit down and just celebrate his win slowly unwinding the day

Losing game, if he’s angry, it’s best to just sit in silence with him and let him think over it and process it. What went wrong, what did he do wrong. Where does he need to improve, sometimes he just needs to rant it out and figure it out himself so he can understand. If it’s a sad loss, there are just some times where you’ll go home in silence, he’ll walk straight to shower, you’ll have to fix his bed and get him clean clothes, turn on the ac and leave something running on the tv, he’ll come out the shower, quiet, staring down laps in whatever thought clouds his mind, lay down and let him play between your legs with his head on your chest, hold him and let him rest, run your hand through his hair gently and run your hand over his back, let him have his moments of peace and just be with him <3

I know nothing about American football but picturing college bf!sukuna all sweaty in an American football uniform makes me feel things

bonus if he gives you his college jersey to wear at his games for good luck, he likes to show off on purpose for you

[icewindandboringhorror]

I've referenced before how I have a big google document to keep track of every media I've ever seen in my entire life (just for reference because I like to track everything possible lol… I am the Data Collector), but recently as I was updating it, I thought of actually evaluating them to find out random percentages (like for example, out of Total Shows Watched, what percentage did I finish vs. stop watching, what percentage did I like or dislike, etc.)...

Evaluating these things is made easier by the fact that I already place everything on each subsection of the list into 6 broad ranking categories, so I don't have to go back and guess to figure out how I feel about them or anything. The categories are: Ranking 5 - overall best* (despite some criticisms of course because I'm too much of an Analyzer to ever find anything Perfect lol) Ranking 4 - more positive than neutral, but not good enough to be 5 Ranking 3 - either the good + bad negate each other, OR it's just not memorable/interesting in any way enough to be ranked higher or lower (this is the Default category ALL things are placed in if no other rank applies) Ranking 2 - maybe a few redeemable elements but largely more negatives than positives Ranking 1 - So bad that it circles around to being fascinating to observe in some way (not necessarily Funny, or Good, but just interesting somehow) Ranking 0 - Bad in a genuinely frustrating or obnoxious manner

*("best" primarily defined here as most interesting, rather than most good in a technical sense, or some other measure. I tend to value more highly whether there's something novel or thoughtful about the worldbuilding, tone, writing, base premise, etc - than about whether it's actually executed perfectly.)

And here's the amount of shows that have so far been placed into each category -

TV shows ~ Rank 5 (highest) - 20 shows ~ Rank 4 (mid-high) - 28 shows ~ Rank 3 (neutral/default/meh) - 114 shows ~ Rank 2 (mid low) -33 shows ~ Rank 1 (low low but intriguingly so) - 14 shows ~ Rank 0 (iredeemably low) - 2 shows

This would make for a total of 211 TV shows overall. However, there are 57 shows within these list marked as "didn't finish" (typically meaning I quit on the very first or second episode - but log them still to keep a record that I at least had a brief view of them).

So my total of genuinely fully watched shows would be more 154. 211 Total, but a More Accurate Total of 154.

Counting them all and using the Total Number Of The List (211) -- that means roughly 9.5% of all total shows I have ever watched (or at least attempted to watch) have been Mostly Good, 13% have been Moderately Okay, 54% have been either entirely Forgettable or some mix of good + bad that lands them right in the Neutral Middle, 15.6% have been Mostly Bad, 6.6% have been Bad (but in an interesting way), and 0.9% have been Terribly Bad.

Additionally, I didn't even get past the first two episodes of about 27% of the total.

Sooo, discounting ones I didn't finish, my total TV shows ever watched in my life would be about 154 (maybe give or take a few, assuming I might have forgotten some from very long ago).

But instead of entire life, let's just say this is the total for 'About 20 Years' (so, not counting very early childhood when I likely wouldn't remember things I saw/have no detailed recollection of them (like for example, I'm sure at some point when I was like 4yrs old I must have seen an episode of Spongebob or something, but I have zero distinct memories of it, can't quote anything of it, and barely recall the premise - so I don't count it on the list, etc.)).

In that case, 154 divided by 20 would be roughly 7.7 shows a year.

Which is actually surprisingly low considering that I often have stuff on in the background for hours whilst I make sculptures and do costumes and stuff (maybe I should have also marked some distinction between 'things I fully paid attention to' and 'things I kind of half listened to whilst sculpting', but that would further split the categories too much probably lol), but I guess a lot of that is youtube videos or random documentaries, so .. eh.. maybe I get it being lower.

Now, doing the same thing for movies-

Movies ~ Rank 5 (highest) - 4 movies (3.4% of total) ~ Rank 4 (mid-high) - 12 movies (10.3% of total) ~ Rank 3 (neutral/default/meh) - 91 movies (78.4% of total) ~ Rank 2 (mid low) - 8 movies (6.8% of total) ~ Rank 1 (low but interesting) - 1 movie (0.8% of total) ~ Rank 0 (irredeemably low) - none in this category (0%)

That makes 116 for a Total (Actually Remembered) Movies Watched In Lifetime (Or At Least In 20 Years).

116 divided by 20 is roughly 5 or 6 movies a year (I feel this has probably been skewed though by adding everything since like elementary school onwards, as I remember a lot more movies from child/teen years.. Whereas, the past 3 years I feel like I've barely seen maybe even 5 movies?? lol). I also have "Didn't Finish" marked on 18 of them. Which means I quit halfway through about 15% of the total movies.

So, a for broader summary stuff..

I seem to be less forgiving to movies than tv shows, by far. Which makes sense to me, I guess, because I love elaboration and details, so "short form" things that only last an hour or two are often lost on me a bit. My biggest complaint with movies is indeed usually walking away just wishing there had been more exposition, more scenes where characters are doing nothing, more "mindless bantering" conversations, more Quiet Downtime and Lore Elaboration and so on lol, so... of course most 1-2hr films end up feeling a bit Not Enough To Draw My Interest/Nothingy to me.

If you count 5 and 4 as "like" and rankings 2 to 0 as "dislike", then for TV shows I at least somewhat liked 48 of them, and at least somewhat disliked 47 of them.. So it's almost exactly the same lol. I'm just about equally as likely to find something bad as I am to find something redeeming about it. But overall, the largest chance is that I just won't really care much for it at all and it will be tossed into the 'neutral' pile, forgotten forever. Movies have a bit better of a balance, "liking" 16 of them, and "disliking" only 9 of them. So I'm slightly more likely to enjoy a movie than to find it annoying - though still VASTLY more likely to just not find it anything in particular, possibly not even finishing it.

ANYWAY.. this is vague and literally pointless, but like I said, I just really find information fun. Like my document where I've rated every apple flavor I've ever tried (like 40 of them now?), or reviewed every oreo flavor (32?), or ranking data from my entire 10 years of Trying To Make Friends process (out of 100 people, roughly 8% chance of a moderate compatibility, 3% chance of high), or etc. etc.. I love to have random pointless things to analyze I suppose lol.

I doubt anyone tracks things in their life in this same exact way, but I'd be interested in hearing any at least somewhat similar data !!! (like, how many TV shows you watch a year on average, and what percentage of those you like vs. dislike (if you keep track of that sort of thing), etc.)). I guess it might be easier with movies, since I think some people use those websites where you curate a list of movies you've seen and you can rate them or something, so maybe the numbers are already available on those places. :0

[comfortlesshurt]

OKAY, IT'S FINALLY HITTING

(will you guys hate me if I post this longfic a month later than planned?)

[goldkirk]

If anyone remembers all the dental work I needed done uhhhhhhh three years ago and never went back and ran away forever…I’m finally going back to a dentist on Thursday to restart the process and face my deep and utter abiding terror. And I also scheduled my COVID and flu vaccines for a couple hours later. And my psych appointment to restart meds.

I figured get it all done in one day, have my miserable immune reaction on Friday that I seem to always get with Moderna COVID shots, and then flee directly into the weekend and never be a person again except when I’m on and off crying. It’s going to be so kind to future me to get these things done and I can do it no matter how much I feel like I am constantly about to Actually Physically Die.

[chiarrara]

i haven't written anything today, but i have spent a lot of time obsessing over blood, and blood loss, and blood type, and blood type compatibility theory. so that's been fun :)

[soutsuji]

There's an English class on Golden Age detective fiction being offered next semester but the prerequisite for it is the intro to literary study class required for all English majors (which I haven't taken because I'm in a hard STEM major and don't have much time for electives, which means that I have to be really picky with my electives and only go for stuff I like AND doesn't have an awful workload) and also even if I did have that prereq, I wouldn't be able to take the class because it's at the same time as one of my major reqs. And also I'll be in two labs next semester and one of them is pure hell so like I literally don't have the time to take more than 13 credit hours (as tempting as it is to keep up my streak of taking 17-18 every semester even though it's been like really pretty bad for my social life and hobbies). Sigh. (Pressing my hand wistfully against the glass) maybe someday they'll offer the class again

[kkoct-ik]

how are you supposed to react to the realisation that your parent is like actually abusive

[reitziluz]

this september has been absolutely cursed so far. back to back misfortunes and setbacks.

the funniest one (or well, the one i can't help but laugh about) is how my new doc at the health center was gravely worried over my hemoglobin count. surely it is a sign my hrt dose is too high and all my organs are going to melt!

i have just recently graduated from the trans hrt specialty clinic after a long time of monitoring my hemoglobin and figuring out a dose that actually keeps me just above the lower threshold of the clinical range i'm aiming for. they figured my blood is just Like That as a genetic thing. the only time in my life i've had a hemoglobin count within the reference ranges is the few years when i ate mostly vegan and donated blood regularly. i was told by a school nurse at fifteen that i should donate blood when i turn 18 because my blood is so thick.

like it's p likely i was a bit dehydrated during that latest blood draw too. the doc needs to chill. there were much more worrying things in the results than the hemoglobin. stuff that's the actual reason i went to get the tests done.

but my blood being thick and rich like a luxurious vampire delicacy never fails to make me laugh

[corovera]

One of these days, I need to write out all the backstory and headcanons and stuff that I’ve come up with for my WoL. There’s quite a bit of it!

[what-even-is-sleep]

Trying to get ahead of an unsustainability cycle that might be starting up this week,,, (I start work).