#this is my new favorite ask i could weep

[solsticelosthermind]

Bc you have so so many wips, do you have a favorite rn? Or one that haunts you the most?

Ooooh this is such a good question in that my initial answer was akin to a pterodactyl screech. All of them? The amount of effort I’m expending to not just start word-vomiting right now— scratch that, I need you to know that I had to talk myself out of making this post unbearably long by adding chunks of each wip. I’m chewing on the bars of my self-made enclosure. Ace, I adore you. I’m going to be unbearable for this ask I’m so sorry.

That being said, I’ll stick to SSKK since that’s what the other post became, which does narrow it down. Um. Slightly.

The brainrot today is focused on the self-cest aku thing because of a certain someone’s tag last night and the discovery that?? It’s?? Not even really a tag on ao3?? Except. I’m not so slowly turning that into porn with not only feelings but like, plot, so someone should save me from myself

Sad fic- thusly titled since I was not doing well when I threw that scene together, and I just. Need to fix it now. Except I made it worse the last time I went in there and now I’m that one drowning in my feels gif every time I open it.

Soul/mates and Ability share are probably on par with each other for how often I think about them, but Ability Share is much closer to actual writing while Soul/Mates is long stream of conscious run on sentence style outlining for a fic that’ll be so much longer than I originally intended. (Who’s surprised. No one.) Ability share began life as literally just a scene where Akutagawa’s injured and Atsushi forces him to take the tiger to heal, and then I went, “how the fuck would he do that actually,” and now it’s basically soulmates part 2. Soul/mates itself is. Well. Soulmates. Actual mates because tiger, possibly omegaverse, I haven’t decided. But most of the notes there are about how they could come to terms with it, develop as individuals and a partnership, and how Atsushi would ruin it mid-mission-going-sideways by screaming something horrendous and how Akutagawa shuts right the fuck down because he’s just. Kind of been waiting for it to blow up in his face. And how I want them to be able to share power by the end. is this literally the same fic twice? Maybe so. Two cakes meme goes here, except it’s just me, cackling maniacally, while being buried under 5000x wips

Touch is what I was toying with finishing next because it’s. Well. There’s a lot there, honestly, and the idea of exploring/developing intimacy tickles me. It’s literally just, “He’s never known a touch that doesn’t hurt. I can fix that,” while simultaneously ignoring that maybe you need something to touch that isn’t you doing the hurt for once. Which he? Yes. Everybody’s touch-starved. I love the initial snippet for this so much. Atsushi’s so tired and Akutagawa’s so weird but he’s still trying already and Dazai’s a little shit.

Tiger and his Hounds, though. That’s probably my baby, now that I’m thinking about it. I go back to that terribly regularly and just re-read what I’ve got written and scribble more notes for how I could progress. It’s a re-write. Ish? It’s. Oh how do I even?? The file is about 9k right now, but the only two scenes actually written are what if Atsushi stayed after Akutagawa collapsed post-Moby-Dick, and then Dazai and Atsushi running into a very pissed off Chuuya and Akutagawa. I want to work my way through the entire series, but kind of sideways? The opening scene is Atsushi at an unconscious Akutagawa’s side going, what changed? Why did he save me? And then deciding it doesn’t matter, but it does. And it does change things, because Atsushi’s looking at him differently. And then I want him to run into Akutagawa and Chuuya and dazai in situations between the big scenes. I want Chuuya to adopt him the same way I believe he did Akutagawa. I want Chuuya to be angry and Dazai to miss him. I want Akutagawa to be able to be seen. I want Atsushi to be the terrible little gremlin he is while also accidentally pulling all four of them out of the mud they’ve been drowning in through sheer force of will. I just. I love this. So much. My bullshit summary in this wip is: One sided enemies to frenemies to friends to lovers plus found family like woah. And it’s just—What if Atsushi realized everyone around him is also fucked up? What if he loved them anyway? What if. He realized he’s loved anyway? What if—what if I just posted a snippet because I do not have any self control at all.

The need to post the entire wip is strong y’all. I love this fic so much actually? how am I just realizing this.

“Hey, Ryuunosuke, how long d’you think before this one’s mine too?”

Atsushi scrunches his face up as whatever was brewing on Akutagawa’s face instantly wiped clean. He darts a glance at Dazai, and then focuses on Chuuya. “Preferably never. I am made to deal with the jinko entirely too often as it is.”

“And why, exactly, would the lad end up ‘yours’” Dazai asks with a brightness Atsushi could’ve pegged as fake even without his extra senses.

When Chuuya laughs this time, it’s an ugly sound. Akutagawa swears under his breath, which is all Atsushi needs to brace for whatever’s next.

“‘Cause he will,” Chuuya drawls. “That’s the fun part of your new stray being a kitten this time.”

Dazai matches his tone as he asks, “Oh?”

“See, dogs are loyal. Can’t help it, even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts. Takes a lot for a good dog to bite back. No matter how much you deserve it.” Chuuya’s smirk goes cruel as he put his back to the corner and watches Dazai watch him. A knee migrates up onto the bench, and Chuuya rests his elbow over it. He flicks his opposite hand at Atsushi.

“Cats, though? Cats ain’t built like that. They’re picky little shits. How long d’you think that shine in his eyes is going to last when you have to earn it? How long before your tiger boy decides to come run with the dogs you beat to shit and ditched? How long before you’re all alone again?”

Dazai opens his mouth, but Atsushi beats him to it. “I won’t,” he says quietly.

“That so?”

Atsushi curls his belt around his fingers as he meets Chuuya’s hard gaze. “I may not know why you’re so upset with him, but I know he’s trying to be different. That’s enough for me.”

Chuuya makes a face, wry and full of pity. “When he breaks you, kid, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Atsushi can’t help but huff a humorless laugh. “Can’t break what’s already broken.”

[4unnyr0se]

Could you write about choking kink with Tsukishima??

❥ tsukishima and asphyxiation

warnings: timeskip! tsukishima, fem! reader, asphyxiation (duh), dom! tsukishima, mean! tsukishima, degrading, rough sex, kinda dark content

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 937

a/n: i actually hate this but i rlly hope u like it :3

got a request? my asks are open!

Kei Tsukishima was vanilla when you two began to see each other regularly. Well, at least for the first time you had sex. He didn’t know what you liked, so he didn’t want to push your boundaries. He was an asshole, but he wasn’t a violater (at least, not towards you.)

At first, he was slow, tender, and meticulous. “Does this feel good?” “Are you in any pain?” “Can I keep going?” Those phrases constantly fell from his lips the first time you two were intimate, his cock slowly pistoning out of your warmth. Those were some of the rare moments when Tsukishima was soft with you when he was vulnerable. It was your first time together. He didn’t wanna fuck it, no. No one ever wants to fuck up their first time with their new partner. 

He learned what you liked and what you didn’t like relatively quickly, sometimes without you having to say anything at all. Tsukishima would notice how you would shake if he kissed your neck. How you would squeeze your thighs when he called you an idiot (affectionately, of course.) And especially, and possibly his most favorite thing about you, how you let those cute little moans escape your lungs when his long, calloused fingers grazed your neck's soft and delicate flesh. 

It was playful at first, his index finger poking your neck in public just to make you scowl. He briefly observed how your face flushed pink before a frown overtook your soft features, lecturing him about how bullying his girlfriend wasn’t very nice. The second time, the two of you were cuddling in his dorm room. Yamaguchi, his roommate, was visiting his parents for the weekend, so you had the entire room to yourselves. His bandaged hands squeezed your neck as he read his book, smirking as the faintest moan left your lips. 

“Oh? Did I do something you like?” he would tease.

“No! Shut up!” you’d him upside the head. 

Eventually, it got to the point where Tsukishima couldn’t take it anymore. It was almost too painful for him. If you weren’t going to tell him you wanted his hand around your throat, he would do it himself. After all, he was the smarter one out of the two of you.

“Look at you, drooling like a bitch,” Tsukishima smirked, his eyes filled with a dark lust for your submissive state. His hand tightened around your throat as he plunged his cock deeper into your weeping core, the squelching sound ringing in his ears. It was accompanied by your shortened breaths and moans, sounding like the most beautiful melody. “You’re so fucking wet, do you even hear yourself? Those filthy fucking noises you make? Or are you too dumb on my cock to know anything, pretty girl?” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing rolled off your tongue, your words being cut off by a harsh squeeze around your neck. “That was a rhetorical question, obviously.” he rolled his eyes, punctuating his sentence with an unforgiving thrust. “Is your head getting dizzy, hm? I bet it is, you little slut. Who knew my adorable little girlfriend was such a whore for my hands?” his free hand squeezed the fat of your breast, twisting your nipple between his index finger and thumb. “Dumb little bitch, squeezing my cock just because she’s getting choked. Fucking whore.”

His thrusts were cold and calculated, just like he was. He knew exactly how to make you squirm, what pressure points made you cum on the spot. Tsukishima knew your body like the back of his hand, and it made you weak every fucking time. 

“Oh? What’s this?” he purred, his fingers practically cutting off your air supply. “Your slutty little cunt is squeezing around me. I think she wants to cum. Do you think you deserve to cum after hiding what you like from me?”

You frantically nodded your head, your eyelids growing extremely heavy from the lack of oxygen to your brain. “Wanna…cum,” was all you managed to choke out, your eyes wet from the tears swelling in the corner. “P-please.”

Tsukishima scoffed and barely loosened his grip, letting you breathe just a bit. “Fine, I guess that’ll do.” his cock still pounded into you, his balls slapping against your ass. “Fucking cum on this cock, little bitch. Be a good fucking girl for once and do as I say.”

You came with a silent cry, your mouth forming a perfect ‘O’, exactly how Tsukishima liked it. Completely submissive and obedient to him, never bratty. Fuck, your orgasm face was always so beautiful. “Shit, gonna cum. Squeezing me so tight, fucking slut.” his seed spilled into the condom, euphoria crashing over him like a tsunami. 

He removed his hand from your neck, admiring the finger-shaped bruises he left. You’d be wearing turtlenecks for a week, that’s for sure. “Are you alright?” he carefully asked, tossing the spent condom into the wastebasket next to his bed. “I thought you were going to pass out for a second.”

You smiled and nodded, curling up to him. Skin-to-skin was always the best thing when it came to sex with Tsukishima because after he came, he was always so careful with you. He was soft, gentle, and delicate. A complete juxtaposition to how we were in public or with his Sendai Frogs teammates. “I’m fine, Kei, it was really fucking sexy. Maybe let me breathe a little bit next time, though?”

He chuckled and kissed the top of your head, inhaling your scent. “So, I get to choke you again next time?”

“Obviously.”

“I can’t wait.”

copyright © 4unnyr0se 2024 all right reserved

reblogs appreciated <3

[lubdubology]

I've been meaning to make this for a while now. Below is a compilation of my favorite Logan stories I've read--ones that have given me all the feels, made me kick my feet, cry with joy, weep with angst and all together delight my very soul. These are not in any particular order. If your story is tagged and you don't want it to be, please let me know and I'll remove it.

give me the first taste // @joelsgoldrush Synopsis: from the moment you first laid eyes on Logan, you knew he was a tough nut to crack. But if there’s one thing you love, it’s a challenge. As your relationship grows, you’re determined to show him that, in this universe, he can also be loved. (Part 2 of Guilty Pleasure)

guilty pleasure // @joelsgoldrush Synopsis: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

crawl home to her // @joelsgoldrush Synopsis: Will he be able to control himself once he's near you? In this moment, he feels more animal than human. Creeping, on the verge of crawling, back to you. OR Like a sinner seeking absolution, he finds his way back to you after every absence, as if you're the only salvation he's ever known. (Part 2 of You Can Use My Skin to Bury Secrets In)

you can use my skin to bury secrets in // @joelsgoldrush Synopsis: Saliva floods his mouth as you rise to your feet, looking down at him from above. Gracefully angelic, and yet— “I know what I’m asking for,” you continue, your voice descending to a low murmur that scratches pleasantly against some dark and remote corner of his brain. Then you lower yourself onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his waist. You repeat your question: “Can I help you?”

blessed are the forgetful // @joelsgoldrush Synopsis: To love is to cherish, to endure, to fight. But to love is also to forget—at least, for you and Logan. Despite countless attempts to erase the part of yourselves that yearns to find completion in each other, you always end up back where it all began: the moment your eyes first met his—the moment everything changed.

epiphany // @joelsgoldrush Synopsis: Superheroes and mutants weren’t enough. No—the universe had to throw in soulmates who share scars. Fantastic, right? Except yours had vanished, only to mysteriously reappear with the arrival of a new face: the “Worst” Logan Howlett, fresh from another earth.

never is a promise // @joelsgoldrush Synopsis: You are everything Logan isn’t: sweet, trouble-free, much younger—and, to top it off, Charles' caregiver.

give me all that ultraviolence // @joelsgoldrush Synopsis: You give Logan head for the first time.

sugar, sugar // @eupheme Synopsis: Your eccentric neighbor Wade may drive you a little up the wall… but, you’re willing to put up with him if it means he’ll introduce you to his new, grumpy-looking roommate.

honey, honey // @eupheme Synopsis: Even after you wake up alone, and almost late for work, it doesn’t deter your interest in your neighbor - especially after the night you shared. (Or - a miscommunication, and the following through of two late-night promises.)

you've got me wanting you // @eupheme Synopsis: As the days pass, you think your time spent with Logan is pretty much perfect. Well... almost. (Or - a dash of insecurity, some badgood advice from Wade, a near-fight at a bar, and the confession of overdue feelings.)

from eden // @eupheme Synopsis: Every day you wish you could do more. More for Charles. More for him. But the harsh sun eats away at you. You weren’t built for this heat. You were meant for gardens. For Eden. But you think… as your fingers trail through the earth, your life force flowing down into the greenery below - if something can grow here, in the desert - then maybe, so can hope.

just the tip // @pedroscurls Synopsis: you're ready to take the next step with logan, but you're still a bit nervous.

smoke and ash // @moonlight-prose Synopsis: cigar smoke trailed after him with every step, his mouth always desperate for something to wet, something to bite down on. and you with the match between your teeth indulged him every which way.

cardinal // @danidrabbles Synopsis: At the edge of the world, someone from another keeps you from stepping off.

i could play the doctor (i can cure your disease) // @sceletaflores Synopsis: it's been another six months, and logan needs your help...

runaway bride // @pedroscurls Synopsis: on the day of your wedding, you find out that your maid of honor and husband-to-be has been hooking up behind your back... and you run directly into the arms of a stranger to help you cope with the sudden betrayal.

nameless as a river undiscovered underground // @moonlight-prose Synopsis: his leather jacket remained a tie between your love and his. the weight of it, the smell of your intertwined scents, all revolved around a relationship he never thought would happen.

soft and serene (let me feel you on my lips) // @sceletaflores Synopsis: logan's not a virgin by any means, but he's still wearing white...

beggin' for seconds // @yxtkiwiyxt Synopsis: You visit Logan at work when one of his colleague's sons gets injured and then he goes back to the hospital with you.

mirror sex // @avocado-writing Synopsis: Mirror Sex (Old Man Logan x Reader)

snow day // @silverskyeline Synopsis: logan hates the snow, hates that it reminds him of the past. but he soon finds that being with you gives it a whole new meaning.

dust to dust // @moonlight-prose Synopsis: when the days are long and he's grown weary of everything, he knows he can find his peace in your body. that is until he brings a whole new understanding to the belt buckle that sits proudly on his waist.

slippin' and slidin' all over you // @sceletaflores Synopsis: logan forgot to fix the ac...

new rules // @seventeenpins Synopsis: You've been broken up for long enough. It shouldn't be this hard to stay away.

knuckle velvet // @ohcaptains Synopsis: he walks you home, then lets himself in.

the devil and i // @mystra-midnight Synopsis: logan might have looked like an ordinary man, but the weight of his metal-laced bones pressing against your back was intoxicating—deliciously so. and he knew this with the same certainty with which he knew the earth revolved around the sun.

[leftoverghosts]

'til death

art donaldson x cheating wife reader. mentioned you x pat.

"I don’t think I could survive seeing you with someone else."

warnings: nsfw!!! some curse words. use of she/her for reader. no use of y/n. dom art. smut. art is a munch. finger in butt. cheating reader. more gross than i usually write. not beta read.

nori says: please!! please!! read my warnings! xoxo. i have a few more asks to get through for my xmas game! but besides those (and ones pending from sof) i am closing it!! thank you so much for playing!!! here is a little gift of what i would have selected!

word count: 1,400~

"Tennis Legend Art Donaldson’s Wife Seen Kissing Mysterious Man."

The title elicits a scoff from you, while Art's teary eyes gaze at you as if you've castrated him.

Yes, you kissed Patrick. Yes, things went further than just a kiss. But for some asinine, no-name fucking blogger on Instagram to refer to you as "Art Donaldson's wife" is the real travesty here. That's libel, that's slander.

Your knee throbs with pain.

"Why didn’t you tell me Patrick was in town?" Art weeps, and you drag your eyes back to his face before cringing.

Martyr, martyr, martyr. It’s his favorite role. You want him to be angry, to be calculating like he used to be. You want him to manipulate his way back into your good graces.

"Art," you sigh, "ask me what you really want to know."

“Did you fuck him?” He asks it almost as soon as you finish speaking.

"Twice." You shrug, wanting to wound, longing for the real him to shred through the flesh of the docile facade he's hiding behind and fight with you.

He sucks in a breath, fingers drumming against the table before he...smirks?

"I don’t think I could survive seeing you with someone else. Especially not him.”

“You’re barely surviving as is, Art. Sometimes I feel like if it weren't for your blinking, I wouldn't be able to tell the difference between you and a doll. I have to sit you here, change your expression there. Fuck. Who are you?"

He blinks at you. "I am who you made me."

"I want you to be who you used to be."

"If I change, will that make you stop seeing Patrick?"

You pause, confused. "Patrick doesn’t matter to me. He's not the man I chose to marry. But when I'm with him, I can pretend it's the real you again. I like the familiarity of it, like we're back in that hotel room and he fucking listens. Having to explain this is beneath me.”

"Mhmm," Art takes a moment to process your words before getting up and walking around the table to stand beside you. He hovers over you, waiting for you to face him, and when you do, his hand is in your hair, yanking.

Art pulls you out of the chair with little effort. It crashes to the ground with a loud clatter before he kicks it aside. He steps behind you, needing even less effort to press the side of your face against the table's wood grain. His hand grips the back of your neck, firmly holding you in place.

"You don't just want me to listen, you want me to fucking snap, don't you baby? It's not like you to work backwards.” he sneers. “And if anything is beneath you, it’s still sneaking off with Patrick Zweig in your thirties. He’s ranked two hundred,” your skirt is pushed up to your hips, “and seventy fucking fifth.”

Art rarely curses, but you've pushed him over the edge and caused him to reveal that he's been keeping track of Patrick's rank.

This was what you wanted all along.

You start to complain when he rips your expensive pantyhose, but Art silences you with two quick slaps on your ass and rips enough of your underwear to have access to you.

“Shut the fuck up. You’ll use my Amex to buy new ones anyway.” He lets go of your neck and swipes his pointer and middle finger across your wet center like a credit card, squeezing your labia and working at your clit. You can't see his smirk but you can feel it. “Don’t you have any self worth? Or are you that bored with the life I bankroll for you?”

When you don’t answer, he pauses, peering down at you as he restrains himself. His expression is tinged with fear when your eyes meet, as if questioning whether he’s gone too far. Consent has always been important to him; even after five years of marriage, he never touches you without asking for permission.

“I’m okay, Art. You’re doing well.” You reassure him, not lifting up from the table, but turned on by how quickly the apprehension in his eyes transforms into lust.

"Okay." He nods and drops to his knees, "open your legs for me, baby." You oblige eagerly, yearning for his touch. His strong hands grip your soft flesh, spreading you open before him. Your heart races with anticipation as you feel his hot breath against your most intimate area. He teases you with a long, slow lick, his tongue warm and wet as it glides from your clit to your asshole.

A moan escapes your lips as he begins to work you over with his mouth. Art points his tongue and probes at your ass, prodding and swirling around the rim. He alternates between flicking his tongue rapidly across your hole and pressing it inside you, wiggling it deeper.

You're drunk on the vulgar slurping sounds as he laps at you, greedy and insatiable. He sucks and nibbles at your rim, taking you apart piece by piece.

He pulls back to spit thick gobs of saliva over your fluttering hole, the crude act making you clench and shiver. Rivulets run down your crack and over your thighs. He dives back in, sealing his mouth over your entrance and sucking hard, his tongue writhing against your walls.

You cry out and push your ass back into his face, desperate for more. Art’s hands grip your hips as he tongue-fucks your hole with abandon, plunging in and out, swirling around your rim. He devours your ass like a man who has been starved for days, moaning with pure bliss at the taste of you.

Your thighs begin to tremble, overwhelmed by the unrelenting pleasure and his grip is hard enough to bruise as he feasts on you, giving both your holes the attention they crave. He knows just how to please you, taking care of your every need before indulging in his own desires.

You would laugh at how even in his dominant role, he still prioritizes your pleasure first, but the sensations are too exquisite to do anything but feel.

Art works you over with his tongue, bringing you to a shuddering climax before standing and shifting his sweatpants down to free his throbbing erection. He fucks into you and one hand grips your ass cheek while his thumb circles and probes your puckered entrance, slipping inside to the first knuckle.

"Does Patrick fuck you like this?" Art pants heavily as he thrusts into your slick heat. "You think he could afford a woman like you? The jewelry you're wearing right now costs more than that piece of shit's entire car. And he thinks he can put his hands on what belongs to me? Fucking tell me."

"No, never!" You babble incoherently, grasping at the table for purchase as the dual stimulation threatens to overwhelm you. The sensations aren’t new, but this tension is. "I only keep him around because I miss you so much, Art. It's always been you."

“Lying. Fucking. Whore.” he grits out, each word punctuated by a sharp snap of his hips and a twist of his thumb buried in your ass. "You miss someone you were trying to get rid of? But you'll never be rid of me. 'Til death do us part, say it!"

“Til’ death, baby.” You eagerly agree, tears flowing from your eyes pool on the table under your cheek. It feels like a baptism, like you’re coming back to your religion.

“Cum for me. Slut.” He dribbles a little more spit down onto his thumb and quickens the pace of thrusting it in and out of your asshole, matching the rhythm of his cock inside your pussy. “Show me what you did for him in that cheap hotel room.”

He's always vocal during sex, but the degrading words are hitting you in all the right places. Your legs start to tremble and you tighten around him, signs that you're close to orgasm. Just as you think you're about to come, he pulls away, stroking himself until he finishes and ejaculates all over your backside and legs.

“What the hell, Art?” You whine, turning to glare at him. But he shoves the same thumb into your mouth and when you recoil, he laughs. His expression is deadly serious.

"If I catch you with Patrick again, I'll divorce you. Don't test me."

[archduchessgortash]

Unpopular Opinion

An 'evil power couple ruling Toril together' ending for Durge and Gortash is a horrible idea, and I'm glad that it doesn't happen in Baldur's Gate 3. If it ever did, it would not be a happy ending for either of them.

If that's your kink... cool. It's such a popular ask in the fandom that I'm sure someone already wrote it months and months ago.

My kink is redemption, but hardly anyone seems to want that for Gortash, and it makes me sad. I really think it should have been an option.

Here's why I don't want Durge and Gortash ruling Toril:

Durge and Gortash have both been abused, manipulated, and treated like complete shit by their families, their caregivers, and their gods. Bane's treatment of Gortash isn't exactly clear except that he tortures his soul for failure even though Gortash did everything he possibly could to succeed in the Absolute plot. By the time we meet him in-game, Gortash has become as bad, if not worse, than his abusers. Pre-tadpole Durge was a piece of work, too, although Sceleritas does mention that they struggled to stay the course that Bhaal had set them upon even before their lobotomy.

We know that one of the themes in Baldur's Gate 3 revolves around cycles of abuse. Even when the victim-turned-abuser isn't arguably 'as bad' as the one who hurt them, if they choose the same sort of path, they lose everything they were ever really fighting for: themselves.

I know Ascended Astarion stans will stomp their feet and say he hasn't become Cazador 2.0. To them, I say: 'You're right. He hasn't... yet.' However, he has eternity now and a delusional slave of his very own to bring out the worst in him. There's a reason that spawn Astarion mentions how he felt everything he'd learned since meeting his new friend/partner slipping away when he thanks them for stopping his ascension. Because that is what ascension does to him. Astarion loses. Cazador wins. Even dead, he has won. That the fandom doesn't get that boggles my mind.

Some fans like the idea of evil Durge and Gortash taking out Bhaal and Bane, becoming gods themselves. In my opinion, this is so much worse. Killing or torturing their abusers as revenge isn't 'finally showing them' or proving their strength. It is, in fact, a mirror of their abuser's own weakness manifested in their victim. Gortash has already crossed this line. Dravo Flymm is effectively dead, animated only by his tadpole. This is another reason I wish Karlach had the option to forgive Gortash--not for him--but for her.

Gortash intellectualized his own abuse so hard that he actually thinks he was helping Karlach by giving her to Zariel. He has not truly dealt with anything that was done to him. He projects it onto the people around him and makes his own problems into everyone else's. I believe this is why there's no ending in which he survives. That, and running out of time and money to do him and Wyll justice with their storylines.

I don't like Durge and Gortash becoming worse together. A history of abuse does not excuse its continuation. I don't want to watch them be overtaken by their own weakness, to weep as I gaze upon the manifestation of their inescapable cowardice.

I want to see them win, but my definition of winning is not ruling. My definition of winning is choosing to no longer emulate their abusers, to become what tiny glimpses into their back stories show us they once had the potential to be.

The idea of Durge and Gortash enslaving the world and ruling it brings to mind a line from one of my all-time favorite songs: Veteran of the Psychic Wars by Blue Öyster Cult.

'Did I hear you say that THIS is victory?!'

Well... it is. Just not theirs.

Repeating the cycle of abuse is nothing short of ensuring the legacy of the abuser.

Like I said... I want Durge and Gortash to win.

[ravenwind-75]

If @heylorrain subjected me to pain and angst songs and said to go with the ideas I was given, I listened, hard. And so I have something for you. Sorry in advance.

Indigo:

~~~~~~

He was worried about her. She knew that. That she shouldn’t be here still. That she’d lose her way to the next place. Yet she lied to herself each day that she could find her way back to him. That this time her path would lead to life not death. She never should have left him, she never should have gone there when he asked her to leave his family to him.

Yet she did.

She wondered if her aura had changed. He used to say it was bright and brilliant. She used to feel it herself, the thrumming of life and power, of love. Now she felt colder, and lonely. It was so dark here in the in between. She didn’t know how the other ghosts did it. How they moved past it. The guilt.

Maybe it was time she finally went home, but she didn’t want to leave him here by himself. It wasn’t fair, why did they have to say goodbye? Why did she have to be dead and alone, leaving someone who needed her just as much and even more so?

…..

He gave her a piece of his heart and then tried to run from it. Run from her love. And when he finally accepted it he was so lost in the clouds of fear, he’d never seen that the sun would risk her light for him. Now he couldn’t feel her closeness, warmth at all.

When he heard the news his light had left him, his face paled. When her hand evaporated in his the clouds of his soul shed tears, bitter rain of sorrow.

Yet her death had given him some hope and faith that he could be free of them. That he’d be saved.

But at what cost? What kind of lesson was this?

Her death is my fault…

He’d lost his color. He lost his light. He lost his love.

….

She was the gold to his silver, the sun to his moon. He had never felt warmer than when he was in her presence. Soft curls wrapped around his fingers, her cradled against his chest, her lips pressed against his. She gave him the joy that he’d shared.

Now he was her warmth yet she couldn’t feel it. Just a wisp of frigid wind that made him shiver that he didn’t have the heart to tell to leave him alone. He wanted her warmth back, to feel her colorful aura.

Yet she begged him as he knelt on the cold stone floor, wand to his head, “Don’t take the life I fought to save. Live for me. You’ll come home to me someday. Patience remember? I can wait. Please!”

“I already feel dead so why can’t I join you?! I don’t want another sun to set without being by your side.”

But he’d stayed when she left. Many tears were shed when they said goodbye, one last brush of her hand on his cheek he felt her fade away, his wand pointed skyward doing nothing to sense her shape.

“Don’t say goodbye I’m right here. Please, I’m not leaving, not ever.” She’d said weeping softly.

He just smiled weakly, “Darling it’s better there. Go.”

It didn’t take long to convince her. Her spirit was tired. And they just kept painting each other darker.

He couldn’t move on with her here. And she got no rest. It was time to part ways with their ghosts.

“Goodbye Ominis.”

“Goodbye, my darling.”

…….

She’d loved the color indigo. She said it was what a twilight sky looked like. Where everything is half-lit and bathed in a hue between reality and a dream.

Maybe this is how indigo felt. Calm, sad and soft. An understanding, the deepest sense of peace yet a slow pain in the quiet isolation of her absence. On the edge of something unspeakable, untouchable.

A longing, a wish for connection out of reach, something impossible. Not a bright sadness but a certain kind of a melancholy that simply fades into the silence of darkness like the light of day.

Like she did.

His favorite color used to be gold, her brightness.

Now it was indigo.

Because In his dreams, when twilight came, she lived.

[companionjones]

Weeping & Wishes

Pairing: Austin Moon x Reader

Fandom: Austin & Ally

Summary: Austin finds you crying in a convenience store on your birthday.

Warnings: Austin says a curse word!

*******

When Austin saw you, it was pretty obvious to him that you'd been crying. You were sure it was obvious to everyone around you, but he was the only one who said anything about it.

"Are you okay, Y/n?" He stopped in his tracks when he saw you.

You had been sniffling and staring at one of the sides of the candy isle. Your eyes went wide as you turned to stare at him.

Sure, you knew that he was in the convenience store. He was Austin Moon for pete's sake. You'd been crushing on him since middle school. But never in a million years did you think he'd talk to you without being prompted to by some sort of classroom assignment.

"Yeah," you mumbled out. You figured it was better to answer him late than never.

His brow furrowed at your lie. "No, you're not. You've been crying."

You looked away from him when you felt another wave of tears welling up. "Yeah," you agreed with him.

"Hey. Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey." Austin put down the basket he'd been carrying to comfort you. He put his hands on your shoulders and levelled himself to look directly into your eyes. "Why are you so sad?"

"It-it-it's my birthday, a-and I've just had the w-worst day..."

Austin smiled, but his eyes were sad. "It's your birthday? Happy birthday."

As your head fell, you didn't even have it in you to say, "Thank you."

Austin's brow furrowed again as he swallowed and licked his lips. "Hey. It's 8pm. The day's not over yet, right?"

Confused as to where he was going with that, you shook your head.

His smile seemed more genuine. "Great. Then I can still turn this around..."

And turn it around he absolutely did. First, Austin had you pick out your five favorite candies, your favorite drink, and your favorite kind of cake, and he bought it all for you. Austin then took you back to his place where you and him watched your favorite movie, that Austin had somehow never seen. He fell in love with it. The rest of the night, the two of our just talked and caught up.

"I just don't understand..." you confessed with a chuckle at one point.

Austin was putting a handful of one of the snacks into his mouth. "Don't understand what?" came his muffled question.

"Why did you come up to me tonight?"

He chewed and swallowed his food. "You were crying," he answered like it was obvious.

"I know, but you didn't need to do that. We don't...know each other." You hesitated to say that last part.

Austin looked at you like you were joking. "Don't know each other? We've known each other since the sixth grade."

That shocked you to hear. "You remember me from all the way back then?"

"Of course I do, Y/n. Why would you think I wouldn't?"

"I don't know," you honestly answered. This new information was throwing your head through a spin.

Austin glanced at the clock before he sat up next to you in his bed. "Now that it's past midnight, can I ask you a question?"

"I'm not sure what the timing has to do with this, but yes."

He hesitated. "I didn't want to ask you this on your birthday, but can you tell me what happened today to make you so upset?"

You took a moment to answer, and that seemed to have stressed him out. "You don't need to answer if you don't want--"

"--No, it's okay," you responded truthfully, "It's just that...it feels so stupid now."

"I promise you it's not stupid." Austin moved to grab both your hands.

You looked at your connected hands for a moment, then you looked up at Austin.

Austin was looking at you when you looked up, then he looked down at your hands. He pulled his hands back.

You swallowed before starting, "It's just that...for days leading up to my birthday, everyone was wondering what I wanted to do. I could only come up with one thing, but apparently that thing 'wasn't good enough' and 'was a waste of time'. Some of them said they would do it with me, but they all flaked when the time came."

"What was it?" Austin wondered, "What was the thing?"

At those questions, you just smiled and motioned your head towards Austin's TV. "It was sitting with me and watching that movie we just watched."

For a few moments after that, you and Austin just sat there, gazing at each other gratefully.

Then, a big realization dawned on Austin's features. "Oh, shit!" He scrambled out of bed and exited his room.

You sat there, confused on his bed until he got back.

Austin was carrying your cake, all lit up with candles. He looked apprehensive, however. "I wanted to do this while it was still your birthday." He carefully returned to sit beside you.

"Austin, do you have any idea how little it matters to me to blow out my candles on my birthday? Not only did you watch my movie with me, you loved it, and you were kind enough to buy me snacks and a cake? Do you have any idea how I feel right now?"

The boy seemed in shock by your overtly thankful words.

So, you blew out the candles. Then, you kissed Austin Moon. "Can you guess what my wish was?"

*******

Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, check out my masterlists. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

[hernakedmuse]

Eddie Munson x Horror!Bimbo Reader Headcanons Part Dos 🦇 🗡 💗

She loves dolls, like Barbie dolls. She has so many of them, she calls them all Marie Antoinette, and has each one in the case holding their own head.

Sometimes she wears Eddie's band shirts as a dress (he's a guy and it's the 80s so his shirts and jackets are oversized because let's face it our little coffin cutie isn't gonna be Nancy's size. Nothing wrong with her size because Nancy is hot and perfect her body is perfect but the group needs other perfect bodies.) And when she bends over he can see her thong because our neighborhood gore whore ain't the type to wear shorts underneath and protect her virtue.

Eddie. Goes. Feral!

He makes up any excuse to rub against her or touch her back.

Their friendship is already at the place where she sits in his lap. And at lunch it takes everything he has as she has her cunt that is only protected by a thin thong that presses between her slit, that is pressing against the crotch of his denim and wetting it. It takes every thing he has not to unzip and slip it in. Because that would not be friendship anymore...no...

He nearly cums in his pants again when she stands up when lunch ends to see her face flush.

Horror!Bimbo makes Eddie's lunch for school everyday. She makes him club sandwiches, double decker sandwiches, soups in a thermos, meatloaf sandwiches, she goes all out and his friends always weep with envy as they eat pb&js and baloney sandwiches.

She also goes over to the trailer often to make dinner. Excited constantly about trying new recipes, using her allowance money to buy the ingredients for her recipes. But Eddie doesn't allow that to go far, he always puts money in her pocket literally, has to force her to take it, doing more deals to make more money for her. Eventually she stops putting up a fight and takes the money because Eddie gets a 'do what I tell you or else' look in his eye.

She does his laundry and when she's over tidies his room up a bit and brings over fresh sheets from her place.

When horror!bimbo finds his playboy and penthouse stash she asks him if she would be pretty enough to pose for these magazines because she has always wanted to. "You're way sexier than Kim Morris bunny, but there is no way I'd ever let the world see that. "

Eddie would always drop casual dominance with her, and it always made you a fuzzy brained wet mess. Like whenever they walked through the hallways together and he'd gently guide her with a hand on her lower back. Or when they cross the street and he will hold his arm out in front of her until they could cross because one time she almost got hit in the parking lot. Or when he always has her sit either next to him or in his lap. There's also him always making sure she eats, asking "what did you have for breakfast?" "Did you remember to pack lunch?" "Sit, eat, you won't wait to serve us to eat your dinner." He even packs snacks for she so you can munch throughout the day. He nearly lost his shit when there was a time our coffin bimbo was starting a diet, only ensures and slimfast. "You're on some good shit if you think I'm allowing you to starve yourself and ruin your perfect body bunny, not on my goddamn life, you must be certified crazy if you think I would allow that!"

He makes her feel cherished and taken care of.

And when they go to a drive in movie or Benny's or anywhere he never lets her pay, and when she runs through her allowance quickly, he gives her more money.

She knows he's been working more to take care of her, so bimbo!reader will run him nice hot bubble baths because her Eddie works so hard for her.

She honestly loves being at her best friend Eddie's more than at home. Even added some touches to his room, like her stuffies, her favorite horror novels, her clothes, her soap, her skin care, hair stuff, perfume, just slowly nesting. Even brings Pyewacket and Socky (Socrates) over to be watched by Wayne during the day since he works at night. Pyewacket actually LIKES Wayne, maybe because he feeds him those Vienna sausages...

And when poor Chrissy Cunningham doesn't see it coming when reader notices her getting close to HER Eddie, and surprises Chrissy with spiders in her cheer locker..

[dramioneasks]

HP FESTS: Indiscretion Advised: A Harry Potter Infidelity Fest

Indiscretion Advised: A Harry Potter Infidelity Fest 2024:

happy in the haze of a drunken hour by Anonymous - E, one-shot - She once called it a dance, this thing she had with Draco: a Viennese waltz, or an Argentine tango, or a pas de deux in a ballet — dizzying and breathtaking, exhausting to its core — yet extremely beautiful, and graceful, and exciting to watch. They were performers on a stage, dancing a carefully choreographed routine of late work nights and orchestrated lies, and it was always a sold-out show. Reality was supremely more convoluted – in truth, they weren’t dancing prodigies or prima ballerinas, they were co-workers who cheated on their partners on the regular, and what they were doing was a great disservice to performers everywhere.

A fire I can’t put out by Anonymous - E, one-shot - The question sat on her. Each night, as she stared at the expanse of bed between her and Viktor, before rolling over onto her side and quietly crying that she'd gone another day without answering it. The question was hers. But the voice, this time, was not. Draco met her gaze, and he asked. “Are you happy?”

Darling, can I be your favorite? by Anonymous - E, one-shot - Hermione finds herself sexually frustrated at work and sends a letter to get the help she needs but the letter is intercepted. Was it a case of mistaken identity or was the cheating intentional?

AU PAIR AFFAIR by Anonymous - E, one-shot - Draco is contractually obligated to stay married to Astoria to keep his son. The only problem is he's in love with their au pair, Hermione. If he's found having an affair, he could lose everything. Can they keep their hands to themselves?

at all costs by Anonymous - E, WIP - Down on her luck, Hermione joins a dating app with Harry's encouragement. She just needed a few extra dollars. She never expected to find herself drawn to the mysterious and charismatic man on the other side of the screen. Meanwhile, Draco finds himself stuck in an unhappy marriage, luckily there's a girl to keep him company.

In the Middle of the Night by Anonymous - E, one-shot - If he didn’t already know she was awake, he does now. “Open your eyes,” rasps a familiar voice and she can’t help but obey. The only light in the room is the moonlight, and she notices the way it mirrors him: both light and dark, gleaming with a magnetic pull that has her almost weeping from the need she has to be held down and thoroughly fucked by him.

Filthy by Anonymous - E, one-shot - When Malfoy arrives at the Ministry Gala in Goyle Manor, he looks forward to dragging Hermione into a dark corner of the manor and letting her have her wicked way with him. But when he finds out she has yet again brought a new boyfriend, he has finally had enough and decides to tell her that their affair is over once and for all.

Happiest Place On Earth by Anonymous - M, one-shot - Disney is a place for families. It's the Happiest Place on Earth, so nothing can go wrong-- right?

As The Lady Wishes by Anonymous - E, one-shot - Today is my wedding day. I’m Hermione Granger, and I’m the bride.

Again by Anonymous - E, one-shot - Hermione plans on throwing Harry the best stag party ever. But the Gryffindors’ adventure in New Orleans has some unexpected guests who bring some complicated feelings with them.

Ronnie Doesn't Know by Anonymous - T, one-shot - “Ronnie doesn't know that Hermione and me Do it in my dorm every Monday She tells him she's in class, but she doesn't go Still, she's on her knees, and Ronnie doesn't know” Or the one where Ron discovers Hermione has been cheating on him with Draco Malfoy.

[creepyclothdoll]

Pit

I have a friend who lives in a tar pit. 

I love them. But if you hang out with them a lot, the tar gets on you and you can’t get it off for the longest time. It’s really easy to get stuck to them and fall into the pit if you’re not careful. But most people are. Most people avoid the pit entirely. That’s why my friend is lonely most of the time.

When I first met them, they were about waist-deep in the tar. You’d never know it, but under that black sticky mess was a pair of the most cutsey socks you ever saw. White fluffy pomeranians crocheted on. That’s what they said to me, anyway. All I could ever make out were the beady eyes of little black creatures clinging to their legs, slicked with viscous, heavy liquid.

They made some jokes about the tar pit, and we laughed. It was harder to pry them out than you’d think. It took all five of us, days of patience, and several contraptions. They sat down on the edge of the granite ledge overlooking the tar pit, their lower half covered in hot black ooze which stuck to the dirt and accumulated dead leaves and sand. 

They wrinkled their nose at this.

“How come this isn’t happening to you?” they said, looking at our blue jeans and dusty hiking boots, which were mostly clear of tar. 

“It is,” I said, showing them the tarry mess on my hands and elbows, coated with debris. 

“Only because you touched me,” they replied, staring at the dirt and tar on themselves with growing disgust.  “I think I would have died if you hadn’t come,” they said to me. When we started to leave, they started to cry. “You are abandoning me now? After saving me?” They asked. 

“Obviously we want you to come with us,” I said. 

“It’s because I’m made of tar,” they spat. 

We told them they were not made of tar. But nothing we said could convince them. We tried to scrape the tar off of them, but they only panicked when our hands came away blackened again. 

“We have to leave,” my other friends said to me after a long long time. “We can’t stay here forever, waiting for them to be ready. No one can survive here.”

They were right. The tar pit stank. The tar gurgled and sucked and emitted foul-smelling gasses. Nothing grew around here, and nothing could live long in this place. 

My friends left us. I was the only one who stayed.

“I will prove to you that the tar comes off,” I promised. “I will prove to you that you belong in the world.”

Every day, we took a little walk further and further from the tar pit. My friend saw things that delighted them. They heard birdsong. They tasted crabapples and raspberries and wild leeks. But sometimes, insects would get stuck to the tar on their legs, and would die from the effort of escaping. And my friend would believe they were horrible again. Every day, we scraped a little more of the tar away. But my friend would see new tar on their fingers and mine and believe the stain was only spreading.

When I needed to go home to sleep, to see my family, and eat something that didn’t taste like smoke and oil and petroleum, my friend would weep.

“I know you like them more than me,” they’d cry. “You only feel sorry for me. You’re tired of all this tar. I’m noxious, I’m poison.”

One day, when I came back to visit them, I didn’t see them at their usual resting place near the edge of the tar pit. I walked to the ledge and looked down, and there they were, ankle-deep in the tar again, among the animal bones and the boiling toxic fumes. 

This time, their excuse was that they’d left their favorite watch somewhere in the tar, and they wanted it back. Their arms were sticky up to their elbows, searching for it. I can’t remember if they found it or not. Not that it matters. 

They had a lot of excuses over the years. They’d scream for help and someone– sometimes me, sometimes other passing folks– would hear and come lift them out of the pit. And each time, there would be fresh, hot, sticky tar on their skin, and anything that touched them would stick to them and die there or come away stained. 

We tried soaps and creams and pumice stones. Sometimes, these things worked. But as the tar started to come off, so too would the dead mice and luna moths and spiders, the dead white flowers preserved in the black, the suffocated frogs and trampled baby snakes and those allegedly pretty crocheted socks and layers of skin. And it hurt. And it disgusted them. And then the next day I’d find them back in the tar pit again.

I visit them every now and then, of course. I bring them snacks and little things I think they’ll like. 

I’m not the only one. Once, I saw them pull another would-be-rescuer deep into the tar with them. He screamed and strained to get away from the tar pit, but my friend clung to him, desperate and grateful, dragging him deeper and deeper into the thick, viscous, stinking mass. He only barely escaped, spitting and crying and swearing to me that he’d never return to this place. 

“He abandoned me,” my friend despaired. “He said he wanted me, but he left. He acted like I was disgusting.”

“That wasn’t nice of him,” I said, passing them the bottle of sticky-sweet honey mead, their favorite.

“It’s because I’m awful,” they said, taking a drink and passing it back.

It’s because you tried to drown him, I thought. 

“I want you to come out of the tar pit,” I said. I say this every time. “Come out and try again.”

But a long time ago, they stopped trying. 

“This is my home,” they say. “I’m made of tar.”

They get angry at me when I tell them they are not made of tar. They are made of blood and flesh and that’s why they hurt so much. That’s why they can’t survive. 

You don’t notice it creeping up on you, but at some point, when you hang out near the tar pit, when you spend so much of your time trying to save the person inside, you become aware that all of your things are stained with tar. You go to kiss someone and your fingers stick in her hair, and you have the sudden and terrible sense that you’re becoming tangled in some terrible trap you can never escape and you flinch away so hard that you rip her hairs out. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. “It doesn’t come off. I feel horrible.”

“You’re not horrible,” she says. “It’s just the tar.”

But it feels like the tar is a part of me now. 

“I love you,” I say to the person in the tar pit.

“I’m going to die here,” they cry up at me. Nowadays, they’ve sunk in up to their neck. Their pretty pink shirt has long been submerged in the burning black tar. Their hair is a sheet of slick black rubbery ooze. Their lips are close to the surface. 

“Please come out,” I say.

“I can’t,” they reply. “I’m trapped.”

“Take my hand,” I say.

“I can’t,” they reply. “It’s too far away.”

“I’ll throw down a rope,” I say.

“No. It’s too hard to raise my arms from the tar now. The tar is too thick and heavy.”

“Why aren’t you calling for help?”

“I’ll just drown them. There’s no point.”

“We can get lots of people. We can bring machines.”

“There’s no point,” they say. “I’ll just stain them. They’ll all be cruel to me anyway. No one wants a tar monster ruining them with their touch, spreading tar everywhere they go. And I hate them all for that.”

“The tar comes off,” I shout. 

“You know it doesn’t.”

“You have to try,” I plead.

“I’m going to die here,” they say.

“Let me help you. Let anyone help you. Come drink the mead you like. Come eat the cakes you like. Come get a new pair of fluffy socks. But you have to do something to save yourself. Please. You have to try.”

“I’m going to die here,” they say.

I’m sitting on the ledge now. I’m watching their eyes as their face sinks closer to the surface of the tar. 

“I love you,” I say again.

“No one loves me,” the sea of tar responds. “I am poison. I am rot. I will suffocate you.”

“I do love you,” I lie to the tar.

“I ruin everything. I am hate.”

“I love you,” I lie again to the tar. 

“Why are you lying?” It gurgles and hisses and steams. “All you have for me is pity and resentment. Touch me and I will drown you.”

I am lying because I still see my friend’s eyes peeking over the black oily pit. I can still see the color they dyed their hair on top– pink, their favorite. I can still see the bunny hair clip they like. 

They’re still in there. 

My friend lives in the tar pit. 

Only the tar speaks now. 

It will not let go of them. They will not let go of it.

[gardenvarietygay]

What to do now

Or how I stopped weeping and learned to love my community

I hate to remind everyone but the Trump administration will soon be in power. Don't bank on his platform only being campaign promises or rhetoric. Here's what you can do now to prepare for January and the years ahead.

This list is very incomplete, please add more information and organizations if you know of other issues that could use increased attention.

Healthcare:

Medicaid may soon be reduced or eliminated for many people. If you may soon become uninsured please visit a healthcare provider as soon as possible. If you are unsure of whether you are up-to-date on your vaccines, screenings, etc. call or visit your healthcare provider.

If you are uninsured, you can still receive healthcare at a Federally Qualified Health Center (FQHC). FQHCs can vary from area to area but always offer a sliding fee scale, meaning that what you pay for healthcare will be determined by your ability to pay. You can find a FQHC near your using this tool. Find a clinic or healthcare provider that will work for you now, before the administration changes. Heads up that if you live in a small town or a rural area, your FQHC will likely be in the nearest big town, all the more reason to figure out your plans now including transportation. (If you don't have a hospital in your town, your FQHC is likely in the nearest town with a hospital)

If you have been diagnosed with HIV/AIDS, the Ryan White Program is a federal program that provides HIV treatment to low-income patients. Find a program near you using this tool. Find the state hotline to call for help here. You can also visit your local AIDS project by searching "[name of state] AIDS project." Planned Parenthood and other sexual health centers can provide care, find clinics near you using this tool.

If you are capable of becoming pregnant, find an abortion fund here. I hesitate to give more specific advice on this post, the link will provide additional information. I know it's scary right now but please use legal, science-backed methods of abortion. We are not yet to the point where it is necessary to induce abortion using herbal remedies or other methods, many herbal abortifacients are dangerous to the life of the pregnant person.

Become involved with any and all of the above organizations. Donate, volunteer, spread the word. Most of these programs rely on a combination of federal funding and public support. It is likely that federal funding will be reduced or disappear under the incoming administration.

If you or a loved one are or will soon be eligible for medicare please be aware that traditional medicare and medicare advantage are two very different services. Traditional Medicare is the program which most Americans expect to receive when they turn 65. It is administered through the federal government. Medicare Advantage is a health insurance program provided through private insurance companies. For most patients, the care they receive will be better through Traditional Medicare. It is likely that the information on this issue will become less reliable from the government.

The Center for Disease Control is the main federal agency which provides guidance for public health, including vaccines for children. It will likely be weakened or otherwise prevented from making public health recommendations. Your primary care provider will still be aware of vaccine schedules and able to vaccinate but the burden may fall on you to ask for vaccines. Get in the habit of asking for information on the latest vaccines at every visit.

Environment:

We will need environmental orgs to fight new policies, sue the government, and stall at every turn. Donate to your favorite environmental nonprofit. None of them are perfect, many of them are effective. Find out more here.

Become involved at the local level. Join a local chapter of a national group or a local organization. Visit parks and conservation areas around you, pay attention to any signage that has the names of local organizations that help to maintain that area and join them. If you see "adopt a stream" or "adopt a highway" signs, call to see what the responsibilities for that program are and if you are able to help. In my area, you organize a group of people and call a phone number to register. The requirements are that you adopt the stream for one year and clean it at least twice for about two hours, then they put a sign up that says you've adopted it. They provide trash bags, reflective vests, gloves, hand sanitizer, and trash grabbers.

Obviously, cleaning up litter from a creek or helping maintain a public park doesn't fight climate change or prevent strip mining. Those are problems that require big solutions from well-funded organizations. Those problems are the reasons you donate to organizations like the Sierra Club. You protest and disrupt big projects with organizations like the Indigenous Environmental Network who helped to organize the Standing Rock protests against the Dakota Access Pipeline in 2016-17.

However, cleaning up litter from one creek does mean that there's one less creek that's clogged with litter. That's one more area that can better support wildlife, help prevent flooding, and connect vital habitat areas that are otherwise fragmented. The organizations that lobby, sue, and stall cannot spend their resources on local environmental projects just like you cannot individually prevent the government from leaving the Paris Agreement.

If you have access to any outdoor area where you can grow plants, you should be planting native species. A balcony, a window box, a patio, even a single flowerpot will make a difference to pollinators and wild birds. Use this tool from the National Wildlife Federation to find native plants which support the greatest number of insects in your area. Insects are a vital link in the food chain, particularly for wild birds whose numbers are in shocking decline. Learn more about planting with natives here. A directory of native plant nurseries can be found here. Native plants can also be purchased from the NWF through its Garden for Wildlife shop.

Humanitarian Issues:

The National Alliance to End Homelessness works with providers and lawmakers to end homelessness with a housing-first approach. They have resources to educate yourself on becoming a better advocate for people experiencing homelessness including things as simple as contacting your representatives.

Get involved with local LGBTQ+ centers. Local LGBTQ+ centers are not always members of national organizations so it can be difficult to find them through a central database. However, you can find an on-campus LGBTQ+ center through a university which may be able to help you directly or point you toward organizations which can help. LGBTQ+ centers frequently have resources for finding queer-friendly healthcare, business to work for, advocacy organizations, and more.

Please keep the people of Gaza and all of Palestine in your thoughts as we fight for change at home. The Middle East Children's Alliance is providing food, clean water, medical and psychological care to families in Gaza. Please donate to them if you can.

Likewise remember the struggle in the Democratic Republic of Congo, Goma Actif provide medical care, food, and water for displaced Congolese. Please donate here. (Text of the fundraiser is written in French first, scroll down to find the English translation further down the page.)

This is just what I've been able to come up with so far. Please add any ideas for actions that support yourself or your community.

[blakbonnet]

curious about your favorite underrated artists/fic writers/creatives on here?? and maybe your specific favourite underrated fanwork??

Ooh. I love this question so much, anon ❤️

Underrated gif maker, and I say this with no bias, is definitely Ida @bizarrelittlemew because she just puts in so much effort in all her gifs. Ida looks through tutorials and then also does so much on their own, but mainly: if you look at all the recent gifs, they have such a unique Ida ™️ vibe to them. From rotoscoping (still don't know what that is) to playing with blending, Ida deserves to be right up there with one of the most creative gifmakers this fandom has produced recently.

Unfortunately I just very very rarely hang out reading ofmd fics T-T (I'm mostly in the hobbit and sandman fandom side of ao3) and there are a few writers I love and I tend to stick to them (xoxoemynn, forpiratereasons being the main ones) Most of what I read and like in the fandom is when a mutual ends up writing something that isn't modern au.

Having said that, underrated writer to me 100% is @palavapeite because their writing just never fails to transport me to whatever setting they're talking about. Listen, I just don't read modern AUs, they don't do it for me (def a me issue, I'm sure there are brilliant modern au writers in this fandom but it's something I filter out) but I would absolutely recommend this fic as something that brought me so so much joy, is fast becoming my more reread fic, because it did a perfect job with getting Stede's voice right. I can hear every single thing he says in my mind, it's SO good. Also their fic with priest!stede lives rent free in my head and I would soon find the time to read their non blackbonnet fics.

Another one is adamarks who, again, has such a good grasp on Ed and Stede's character that it doesn't matter which AU Jay has picked, it just always always works somehow. My favourite is this fic tho which is just so them that I might as well weep.

For artists, my recent faves (and I think they're underrated) are Lilo @harrylovesspaezle who's so so talented and I still can't get over that sketchbook tour - the growth and love for this show ough, @ofmderapolag whose pieces are just so so dreamy, and also @spookynadja whose style just floors me every single time.

I'd also like to shout out one underrated category, people who write such amazing text posts like @ourfag who obviously has the s3 scripts and is only sharing them with us in small increments due to the nda and @tulipseason for the currently unpublished book of "1 million ways I will articulate how much I love hit television show our flag means death"

and then there's my favourite most beloved cheerleaders who are always lifting up new writers and artists too like @marbledwings and @insteading ❤️ I especially love that everyone has a beautiful story with these two, you could ask any small or big writer in the fandom if they've been made to cry by wings or insteading and yeah, they're just lovely.

[thethreeeyed-raven]

Reader was dream who had had a crush on the king of dreams as long as she could remember. When he was kidnapped, she thought she’d never see him again, and the grief was slowly turning her into a nightmare with every passing day. She was sitting in one of Dream’s favorite spots when he returned, and the sight took her breath away. Before she fully realized it she was running toward him, and she threw herself into his arms. She studied his face and was barely able to keep herself from kissing him.

look what you have become pt.2

navigation | warnings : angst, character death | a/n : enjoy! | dream of the endless playlist | tags : @knight-of-flowerss , @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom

↞ part one

Morpheus had walked away and let you go, for now.

You wandered the streets pondering his words. They echoed in your head like a loud siren.

What did he mean?

Morpheus had many things on his mind, including tracking down Rose Walker.

When he found her, she told him of a strange reoccurrence that kept happening in her dreams.

A woman, sad and weeping. And when she turned around her eyes were black, infection travelling out of the sockets spreading around her face, reaching out to Rose.

But she said it felt warm, lonely. The woman uttered the Lord's name like it was a prayer.

This nightmare sounded oddly familiar.

"Did she tell you her name?"

Morpheus returned to his palace with hurried steps.

"My lord, did you manage to find Rose Walker?" Lucienne asked, noticing his panicked expression.

"We'll talk about it later Lucienne, I must find this new nightmare."

He found you perched against one of the many large trees in Fiddler's Green.

You looked so...alluring.

You sensed his presence a few yards away. You opened your eyes, focusing them on the black cloaked figure in the distance.

"Morpheus."

You rose, breathlessly running towards him.

Once you were close enough, your enveloped him in a hug. "Morpheus, you must forgive me, your absence has turned me into this."

Dream paused, contemplating you words, yet he still gave you no answer.

"Please, I don't want to be like this anymore. Please, please you must forgive me."

Morpheus took your arms and slightly pushed you away so he could look into your eyes.

"I forgive you"

He felt guilty when he saw your eyes lighten.

"But the mortals will not."

He stepped away.

"No."

He raised his hand,

"Morpheus, please..."

The sand eased out like a wave.

"Please-"

And you were gone.

He loved you.

Oh, how he loved you.

But humanity could never forgive you.

[mae-dwrites]

DPxDCxMLB Prompt:

“The Wizard was a Ghost King”

Now I love Danny Phantom, even though I haven’t had the pleasure to watch even a 1/4 of the show. But I love crossovers, and DPxDCxMLB is one of my favorites honestly, but there isn’t a lot.

This is more about lore stuff and is my personal brain worm of figuring out how to fill in a plot hole in Miraculous via crossovers.

So in Miraculous apparently a Wizard somehow learned about the Kwami. Now how could an alive mortal know of these beings? Now we could say they used magic, but let's go a more fun route!

This “Wizard” was actually a Ghost King, because from what I’ve gathered there have been multiple unless I’ve been lied to through headcanons. (I promise I’m getting to doing proper research on Danny Phantom, kinda got a list) Also, I don't recall most of what was actually said about this “Wizard” in the cannon.

This Ghost King could have been one of the kind or kinder ones, or just another selfish ghost craving for more power.

The “Kinder” Ghost King was friends with the Kwami hearing his friends complain or weep over not being able to truly interact with the creatures in one realm or another. Only tipping a few scales here or there, leading them somewhere else, among other things(Like Plagg committing genocide on the Dinasours or however cannon went…). The Kwami could only do so much in their current state, as they didn't have ties to the physical level/plane. So the Ghost King gave them options, for them to be tied to an object that could be handled by the creatures of the realms.

(Maybe they were acquaintances, or the Kwami came to the Ghost King for help to be on the physical plane of these other Realms? There are so many ways this can go)

The Kwami got to choose the realm(or Universe if you want to refer to it as that) that they could reside in.

It may even be the duty of the Ghost King to tie new Kwami to items and send them to their Realm, or to enact it when a Kwami would wish to join the world that their brethren now are in.

Now if you want to go the Selfish-Power-Hungry route, the “Selfish” Ghost King saw the potential in the Kwami and wanted to use it for himself. So to abuse their power the Kwami were tied to their objects, the “Selfish” Ghost King would be overthrown(the Ancients might have played a part if I'm remember who those are correctly), and the Miraculi would somehow end up their eventual Realm/Universe.

Or another one I came up with, the Ghost King of that time was a wizard in their part life! Or it could have just been a super powerful ghost, but the GK route is funner…

So imagine Kwami haven’t gone to a Ghost King in so long cause they’re wary, but these newer or older ones (older ones probably just didn’t want to join the physical plane) have heard of Danny even before he was crowned or was to be crowned. So they take a chance to ask for him to tie them to the physical plane of the realm their fellow Kwami reside in.

So chaos ensues on Earth as magic users, Guardians, and Amazonians alike feel the arrival of the new Miraculi for the first time in hundreds of years.

[humanconditionpoetry]

Star Ignited

A Birthday Poem celebrating Aaravos's birthday from the show the Dragon Prince

T.W/Tags - This Poem Has Some Traumatic Themes, Such as Imprisonment, Death and Persecution and a Mention of Suicide(Not Overt) - You Have Been Warned! Read At Your Own Discretion!

Also I do not own these images of Aaravos, these images belong to the Dragon Prince - A Show found on Netflix and Wonder-Storm and it's team!

Star Ignited:

There was Once a Time...

A Star found himself beside.

No Storm that he could foresee...

Things and people where there as they should be.

Things, were for the most part were peaceful...

He had a daughter, who treated everyone as an equal.

Many saw her for her faults...

But it matter not, He loved her with all of his heart.

In addition, he had mastered all of the world's magic like a dart with some art.

But remember the storm....

It arrived at my door.

My daughter did not know what she did was act of war.

Defying the cosmic order...

Tipped off by Anak Araw.

So, the star council, even after begging and pleading....

Deemed that my lovely child be sent to die to settle the score.

And after weeping and grieving in area left by her pervious life retreating.

My life took on a whole new meaning...

Cosmic Order, you say, well then chaos shall superseed it!

And Chaos he caused and did....

Humans now have dark magic...

They wield it and use it.

Elves were scared of this new development and tried to impede....

But this caused war on both sides....

Created in me quite a gleam and happiness surpise.

But So, my crimes catch up to me...

And then imprisoned me at the bottom of my daughter 's dead sea.

My home looked like my pervious dwelling that I owed....

How cruel there are...

Do they not know that only fuels the fire.

Stars can burn quite a while and hotter the sun in desire!

So, I bid my time...

I play both sides like a fiddle in a rhyme.

I plan....

People keep falling with the same old gimmick, just like when there were created in grand.

No mistake, I am not asking for mercy....

My motivations are that of a man.

Surely, many would understand.

Leola, can you hear me?

Can you see me?

You are always in my mind like a command.

I just want you back in my hands...

The world can be dammed!

A long-lived life is nothing sort of the grand...

I wonder if I would be able to escape this land.

Meet with you on heaven sand's.

Oh, Leola How I missed thee.

My Unicorn

I hope you all liked this poem and comment your favorite line! See you guys later, don't forget to follow!

[divorcedfiddleford]

ok last thing i SWEAR im gonna shut up after this but i just wanted to post michael rianda's outline for the jack kerouac wendy episode that i mentioned. it definitely needed a lot of work but i do like it in concept. image ID/transcript below the cut (warning it's LONG)

[image 1 ID: a screenshot of a tweet from michael rianda. it reads: "I Found a Lost Wendy Episode of Gravity Falls! We were always trying to crack a Wendy episode. This was my favorite. I love the teenage feel of wanderlust + getting excited about reading "On the Road." I love the backstory and flaw. It didn't work but I always liked it." end image 1 ID.]

[image 2 ID: a screenshot of michael rianda's outline. from here i will simply transcribe what he has written, only fixing typos that interrupt screen readers.

Episode 3. Wendy's "On the Road" This is the first in a series I did where I wanted to get to know a character better, and I started with that desire, and followed it through.

Cold Open: A woman answers a phone at a Wal-Mart type superstore place. Wendy's on the other end with Dipper and Mabel. She asks to be transferred to extension 234. Extension 234 connects them to the stores loudspeaker speakerphone. Wendy starts making joke announcements over the loudspeaker: Wendy: "Clean up to aisle 6, customers seem to be projectile vomiting all over eachother." Mabel and Dipper are laughing hysterically. The woman can't hang up on Wendy so she calls the cops. Wendy's still going. Soos asks if she could get in trouble for it. Wendy brushes him off. Then the cops show up. Stan sees Wendy arrested and swells with pride- "she HAS been learning from me (quietly weeps) I'm so proud."

Act One: Open on Manly Dan... by his age it must be the past- he teaches his boys to chop wood and they're all struggling. A huge tree drops in the distance. When the dust clears... it's little Wendy. He tells her to climb aboard his shoulders my little axechild! They happily gallop off. They love each other. It's very sweet. Cut to present day: A confrontational Manly Dan is bawling Wendy out for getting in trouble for the prank phone call. He tells her not to be so impulsive and do the first thing that pops into her head. Wendy insists Manly Dan is the most impulsive person she knows, besides the cops left her off with a warning. She brushes it off by saying she has to go to work.

B story. (Not sure what)

Wendy's reading On the Road at work. She's getting progressively more pumped about this book. Mabel asks what it's about. She explains it all and the kids are pumped. They're swept up in this romanticized teenage vision of hitchhiking on the open road. Stan has to leave for some secret portal reason and Wendy's like: "Let's do this right now!" (Secretly she just doesn't want to go home and deal with her dad.) "Let's do it let's just hitch hike. Leave town! Start a new life! Like Jack Kerouac!" Mabel is enamored.

End image 2 ID.]

[Image 3 ID: picking up from the transcript of the previous image:

Soos is wary of leaving the shop at first. But Wendy talks them into it. A couple of her friends come. Lee, Nate, Thompson, and Tambry. They get on the road and are immediately having fun. Things are looking up. Soos is worried. Wendy: "Easy Soos, we're in Oregon... it's just going to be a bunch of nice hippies..." Cut to a terrifying crazy red eyed driver without a face driving towards them. Act break.

Act Two: Wendy and Co are having fun just like you should on a road trip/vagabond adventure. They're stopping at mini-marts and getting lame snow globes- and making fun of them. Things are looking good. It's like a road movie. They all relate to each other about problems with their parents. Wendy doesn't say much but she has a flashback to her and her dad drifting apart.

Stan B Story.

The scary faceless driver comes by and offers them a ride. (they can't see his ghoulish faceless self) Wendy immediately says yes before anyone else can decide. People are like "I don't want to go hitch-hiking." "Wendy: It'll be fine! Come on- this is the adventure of our lives. People in those stories never said, no I'm scared." She makes them all go in. It's creepy and tense in the car. Eventually the guy reveals himself to be a horrifying ghoul face and locks the doors. They all go screaming into the distance.

Act Three: He takes them to the "End of the Road" Diner. Or you hang a lampshade on it and have it be Bob's Big Boy but with a David Lynch head on the outside. There are other people that get taken there and stay forever and are sort of these lost souls that are stuck there. From all different eras. It's like this terrifying Lynch-ian dark version of an idyllic road trip stop. Basically it's a Lynch parody fest with Soos and Mabel. Like these little creepy old couple are walking in fast motion out of a wall and Soos is pushing them back in. "Whadda you doin grandma and grandpa... get outta that mouse hole. Get back in that mouse hole you goofs." (Probably too insane) Anyway, everyone wants them to have "the special" and after you eat the special, you stay there forever. Wendy's really guilty that all this is her fault.

End image 3 ID.]

[Image 4 ID: the last of the transcript:

Wendy wants to impulsively react, but remembers her dad. She thinks carefully what to do and comes up with a plan- and chops down a tree on the driver. They all come home- relieved to be back in Gravity Falls, and her dad is chopping wood in the back- he's still mad at Wendy.

Wendy: Hey... Dad? Manly Dan: (grunts) Wendy: Can I chop some wood with you? Manly Dan just nods and waves her off. They fell the tree. Manly Dan: Haha! That's my little axechild! Wendy smiles and keeps chopping.

Something like that- obviously a lot of variables to be figured out- but I love the teenage feeling of this and love that it gives Wendy a story and a flaw. Still needs work to make her better but it's a start.

End image ID.]