#tumblr ya gotta fix this shit

[neoyi]

No Straight Roads is an impressive First Good Try from a newcomer developer. It's a bit clunky (loose jump mechanics; weird fixed camera angles during stages prior to boss fights; some uh, choice voice acting, though the latter is largely relegated to NPCs), but it's visually surreal and enticing, and the game is a mastery of nuanced depths and inner secrets coming from each of the major characters.

Naturally, I was immediately drawn to the robot boy band, which, conceptually alone, is fantastic. This is such an evil thing for a major corporation to do. You have advanced machinery designed to be the perfect entertainment system, drawing in millions of fans and their money. They're completely ageless and can be exploited for however long is needed, and if one "dies", another can replace it. 1010 is diabolical.

But NSR one-ups this amusingly bizarre backdrop by adding 1010's manager and his contribution alone simultaneously explains a lot about the game's creativity and charm, AND his character. NSR isn't above emotional and heartbreaking moments, but it constantly maintains an upbeat, positive energy; fittingly Neon J's war background is portrayed as hammy and comical.

But they're not making fun of him for being a strait-laced soldier (well, a bit, but not in a mean-spirited way.) NSR is really good about laying out the cards and letting you find and piece together why these people act the way they do. And I'm just so damn bewildered and in awe that this man, clearly a war veteran and possibly enduring PTSD, decided the best way to cope is to take his toy-making skills and create a military-themed boy band. Art is therapeutic, after all.

And it somehow works? Like there is something absurd, but fitting about a former war vet addressing his band as soldiers and treating them as such. It's just another form of training, just replace guns with dancing, and any war fields with a stage platform. It's kind of fucked up, honestly.

I can see why fans have latched headcanons of this guy being a father to his boy band. Like in-game, he portrays the army-specific "Father to his Men" and hints of his backstory seem to imply that his robotic toys are very important to him. I mean, he's an artist, and a lot of artists extend a lot of themselves and a generous pouring of love (sometimes a little too much) into their crafts.

And then you see this and go, okay, yeah, I think the fans are onto something. He could have easily replaced any of these bots from an attack like that. Neon didn't have to get up front to try and protect them.

Of course, this could be another extensive of his military background; he's protecting his men because it's what he was trained to do. Maybe it's subconscious that way. Maybe he's already lost so many of his friends and brothers-in-arm that he just dived in. But I think it's abundantly clear 1010 aren't just soulless tools to him.

And like, the guy has, at least, a decent sense of morals. I'm not sure how he feels about associating with a capitalist company (and to be fair, NSR isn't really about that, though I guess I could argue that the people high up are as much victims in their own myopia that they failed to notice the greater issues as much as Bunk Bed Junction is), but he's one of the first to point out Bunk Bed Junction's chaotic method isn't exactly any better (he is correct, there wasn't any damn reason to break a nine-year-old kid's piano.)

This is kind of what I mean when I say NSR's characters has layers. So much that for a game I powered through in two days, it had a lot to say about its cast, and it does it with gusto. There's a lot I could probably talk about Neon J and 1010 (do the latter have self-awareness? Is he a cyborg because he suffered severe war wounds?)

Also holy shit, their Christmas upgrade. Words can't EVEN.

[madamechrissy]

Your vibrating panties Professor Gojo put on you malfunction, and Professor Geto walks in 🤭🤭

Law school AU, MDNI-sex toys, cumming. Teasing. General embarrassment lol.

Tumblr link for this fic

“Baby…” Satoru pulls your tits out, they bounce out of the too small bra, and his big hands cover them, squishing them in his palms. “Fuck they’re so pretty.”

He’s bent down, kissing them, as you’re rocking your hips, rolling against the vibrations, sending shocks through your body, until it’s all humming. You’re soaking the little toy, down your panties, down your thighs, as you start to lose focus, you don’t even know where the fuck you are for a minute.

Satoru’s pretty silky white hair falls softly against your skin as he kisses around an areola, before swirling his talented long tongue around it, sucking it into his mouth, and you can’t hold in your scream. He pauses, looking up at you with drunk eyes and glossy lips, putting two fingers to your lips, shaking his head. You gulp, chest heaving with your labored breaths.

“Hush baby, gotta be quiet. Let me give your other pretty titty attention, hmm? She’s angry at me.” You manage a laugh, through tears, through the pressure on your clit making you slippery and nearly blacking out.

“Like… em… Toru?” You can’t form coherent words. He looks up at you, as he bends his head, sucking the other pretty peak into his mouth and you can’t take it, you feel like you’re going to fucking die.

“Like? No. Love . Perfect bouncy tits. Pretty little nipples. Mmm .” He sucks on it again, pulling back with a loud pop, and you’re just crying, pathetic. “You cryin again baby?”

You just nod, wiggling, and he grins then. “Sadistic… little… lemme cum, please, please, please.” Satoru smirks, teasing your bare nipples with his long fingers.

“Poor baby girl, can’t cum, aww!” He pouts, and you wanna bitch, complain, but your eyes are rolling back in pleasure. “Ah-ah. Don’t cum yet.”

“Too late! Fucking can’t stop…”

Knock Knock Knock.

You gasp, jumping up and nearly falling, and Satoru chuckles a bit, buttoning you up quickly. “Shh, it’ll be fine. This will be good practice.”

You see the insane look in those eyes, and you shake your head. “Oh no… no Satoru-”

“Ya busy, Satoru?” It’s professor Geto. As soon as you hear his voice you’re more of a blushing mess, and Gojo is grinning so evilly you’re terrified.

“Nah, one sec Sugu.” He puts your blazer on, shit eating grin not leaving his pretty damn face. He fixes your hair a bit then winks.

“No, you can’t! I…”

“You got this. Just play it cool. Under pressure.” He kisses your lips with a little pop, then he opens the door, and Suguru comes in, smiling at you a bit, then looking at Satoru, narrowing his chocolate eyes.

“Huh.” He shuts and locks the door, crossing his arms and looking to Gojo, who just chuckles. “What are you up to, Satoru?”

“Me? Nothing.” He’s got his hand behind him, whistling and looking up. Suguru’s eyes go to you now, taking in your red cheeks, before sliding down your body, then back to Satoru, who’s acting stupidly nonchalant.

“Uh huh. Sure believe that.” He says your name, and you struggle to respond, as those vibrations are still pulsing on your pussy, a pussy that’s been trying not to have an orgasm.

“Y-yes, Professor… Geto?” You bite out the words, soft and whispery, and Satoru snorts in laughter, making you glare at him.

Geto walks towards you, tall and handsome, hair half up, the rest flowing down his broad shoulders, dressed in a white business shirt that… fuck, Geto looks hot, and it’s making it worse . And Gojo is watching you, grinning wide, wiggling his damn brows, so pretty you wanna smack him and fuck him. At once.

Geto touches your forehead, and you almost sob, gritting your teeth as Gojo turns it up more.

“You feeling okay, love? Satoru fucking with you?” He puts the back of his hand on your cheek now, and you whine out then. “Are you okay? You're all flushed.”

You can’t look at him, you can’t handle anything. You wanna cum so bad, and Gojo comes up too, wrapping an arm around Geto’s shoulder, looking at you with that knowing smirk as he watches you nearly die. You struggle to get a little bit of a breath, and then it comes out as a whimper. You slam your mouth shut.

“Satoru, what are you up to? Look at her, she can’t even talk.” Suguru shoves Gojo’s arm off, and Gojo just laughs, hand behind his back, he pushes it up, the higher vibrations killing you. You nearly fall over, clutching your tummy.

Suguru catches you, and you can’t, you can’t, his strong arm is around your waist, and then Gojo comes to hug you on the other side, putting you between the two of the tall handsome men. Gojo almost pushes you towards Suguru, chuckling deviously, and Geto looks on with growing concern.

“Should I take you to the nurse, love?” He asks you, and Gojo snorts.

“I… no… Professor… I am… mmnh!” Your legs give out, and goddamn if you’re not cumming, and cumming as your two professors hold you. Suguru pauses, grip tightening, and Gojo’s grinning, until Suguru scowls at him.

“You little shit, turn it off.” He orders Gojo, who pouts, as your cunt throbs around nothing, and you can’t even barely see, just glittery stars. Now it won’t stop and you’re crazy, stupid sensitive, and you struggle not to make noise, shoving your hands on your mouth then.

“Oh fine, it was an important exercise you know.” He takes the remote, but it just goes even higher, and you scream into your hands, unable to stand anymore, your knees give out so that Geto has to hold you as Satoru glares at the remote.

“I said, turn it off. She can’t even stand.” Suguru orders him, and you’re clutching to his arm, so embarrassed you wanna fall in a hole and die.

“I’m s’sorrry… Sugu… Profess…sorry!” You’re whining and Suguru clears his throat, looking down at you, and you see his face blushing.

“Not your fault. Satoru!”

“It’s not turning off! I don’t know!” He’s frantically pushing all the buttons, as you’re cumming again, this time it hurts, you clutch your thighs together. Satoru looks at you, licking his lips. “Fuck you’re hot.”

“Satoru!” You whine it out, Geto yells it out, and Gojo waves his arms.

“Oh fine, fine! I can’t figure it out, shit. Ohmygod, I think it's broken!? Or like malfunctioning!”

🤭🤣 Chap 5 of my fic 💖

[switchbladedreamz]

My Choice

LOOK AT HIS FUCKING SMILE OH MY GOD

Pairing: Teacher!Logan x Teacher!Reader

Rating: R bc too many swears for PG-13

Requested?: nope

Summary: uuuuuh not fluff and not really angst? Logan gets rejected but it'll buff out bro I swear, wanting to make this into my first series so please be gentle. Let me know what you think in the comments and reblogs!🩷🩷

PLS REBLOG TUMBLR ONLY RECOGNIZES REBLOGS IT HELPS BLOGS GROW. K THANKS ENJOY THE FIC BYYYYEE

~~~~

"How do you think the Phoenicians would interact with-" the bell shrieks interrupting me. "Alright that's time, class, dismissed. Have a great weekend!" My small class of fifteen students scrambled out of their seats, rushing single file out of the classroom. Eager to end their day. A couple desks were left askew in the rush for the door. Sighing, i walk over and fix them. There's a presence at the door and a swift two knocks. I look up to be greeted with Logan's hulking frame in my doorway. A smile on his face. "Hey teach, got a minute?" "If you don't mind that I pack my stuff up real quick, yes i do. What's on your mind Mr. Howlett." I pay him no mind as I cross the room in three steps. "How many times do I gotta tell ya, you can call me Logan". I 'hmm' in response, my focus on packing away my lesson plan. The mess of papers strewn about my desk are picked up and sorted before i put them away in my desk. The top drawer squeaks shut, soon to be juxtaposed by Logan's deep voice. "I uh.. was wondering if you would want to get a drink tonight. With me. Greet the weekend the right way." Did I hear that right? I look up at him, he's serious. It makes me laugh. Clearly not expecting this reaction, the look on his face is befuddled. "Logan ..I'm worth more than a couple cheap beers and a good fuck." I sling my bag over my shoulder and walk past him out of the door. He stands there, stunned. Has he never been rejected before? Not to say I wouldn't go out with him. God I'm practically in love with the man. But I owe myself more than to be, well for lack of a better term, another notch on his belt. His heart belongs to Jean as we all are annoyingly aware. Why should I hurt myself like that for a man. Halfway up the staircase, trying to get to my room, I can hear his weighted footsteps and the creaking of the wood before Logan speaks up. "Hey Y/n wait a second." I wait until I'm standing in the hallway at the top of the stairs to reply. "Yes Mr. Howlett?" "Cut it out with that mister shit.." realizing he sounded a little gruff he clears his throat and adds a quiet "..please.. And can I ask if you still want to grab a beer with me? Just friends?" "I don't like to drink and I have papers to grade. Have a good weekend." I turn around and swiftly walk to my room which sadly is right across from his. 'I can not believe i just turned him down. Twice! Oh my god what have I done? I could've just blown any and every chance i could've had with him. Fuck. Fuuuuck. Fuck!' The anxiety roils in my gut like a swarm of angry bees. I did good by putting my best interests first. I tell myself over. And over. And over. And one more time just to be sure.

For the next three hours I am hunched over the desk in my room grading my students work for my ancient history class. H.I.M. is playing somewhere in the background. Ville Vallo is doing his best to quel the increasing frustration that comes with being a teacher and not understanding how they aren't understanding what I'm trying to teach them. My focus is interrupted by an obnoxious dying whale call emitting from my stomach. I rest my head in my hands, letting my frustrations ease and the music flow while i shift my train of thought from work to food. I stand up from my chair and stretch the day's muscle aches away. I pause my music before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

Hank and Charles are animatedly chatting about... physics? I can't really tell, they're talking too fast. An open bottle of gin that is a third of the way gone is the probable explanation for the passion and animation which they express themselves with. I open the fridge and survey my options. A silent "fuck it" mumbles from my lips before grabbing the jelly. And then the peanut butter, bread and a butter knife. Another pb&j for dinner won't kill me. "Ah Y/n you know I heard you rejected a certain...wolfish man..twice today. How did you ever accomplish that given your....feelings?" Charles' words are always calculated. Maybe slurred a little by the bottle of alcohol sitting between him and his company. Of course he's already heard about it. "Well Charles, hi hank" he lifts his hand and waves. "I'll tell you what i told Mr. Howlett "im worth more than a couple cheap beers and a good fuck". I wanna date the guy, be with him, not just another fuck and then we're awkward with each other in the hallways. Hell no." Charles looks at me..admirably? "Thats what I've always admired about you, Y/n. You stick up for yourself no matter what. You're right you do deserve more than that. Hank and I were just discussing the possibilities of the multiverse. Care to join?" "All due respect, fuck no. Science hurts my brain, that's why I teach history. Now if you fellas would like to discuss the outcome the Compact Theory had on Jacksonian Democracy I'd love to, or even trade routes of the Phoenicians or Alexander The Great and his many many Alexandria I'm all ears. But I suppose I could sit and let you enjoy my company" i giggle at my own joke. I stride to the table, sandwich in hand and sit down. "No no no, I think I'd rather talk about how in love with The Wolverine our newest history teacher is" Hank flourishes his hands when mentioning Logan's moniker. A ditzy smile on his face to match the haze in his eyes, clearly a little more intoxicated than Charles is. "ugh please im not in love with the guy, i just have feelings for him. No one else sees how sweet he is, in silent ways. And he's patient with his students. The jackass is only a jackass as a coping mechanism because he thinks if he has friends they'll all hate him so he hates them and himself before they have a chance. Is it fucked up logic and self-destructive? Absolutely. Does it make me want him more? Fuck yes. Did I chew myself out for rejecting him? God knows I did. But I'm the only motherfucker that's gonna take care of myself and as much I want him to be the man that I see, that I know he can be.. it's not gonna happen." The intoxicated men guffaw at my response. "You're telling me you see his potential." ..."Yes. What's so wrong with that?" "Y/n the man won't live up to his potential in probably another 200 years. When we're all gone and all he has is..hopefully, this place." "Well jeez Chuck that was dark" "forgive me, I was a tad bit morose. But still. I suppose i do understand you denying yourself the one night of fun over years of heartache. It's romantic." At this I scoff. "Whatever you say man." I get up and grab two sodas from the nearby pantry. Why they don't keep them in the fridge, I'll never understand. I grab a glass and some ice from the freezer and take my seat. I pour mine in my glass of ice, the other i split between Hank's glass and Charles'. "To make the alcohol come back up easier in the morning" they laugh at my explanation and thank me.

"I thought you didn't drink" the deep voice from behind startled me with a jump. I turn around and there he fuckin is. In all his beauty. The warm kitchen lights cast a smooth glow on his face. Black tank top, black jeans..that stupid native skull with a headdress belt buckle. And that jacket. The only item of clothing that doesn't look like it will shred itself apart from his body with the slightest of movements. "I don't. Its soda. Chuck and Hank however..." I trail off, my head jerking back to the friends/coworkers behind me. Laughing their asses off at my expense ..and Logan's, I can tell. Asses, both of them. He only grunts. God what I wouldn't give to have him gru- Charles gasps, the alcohol numbing his control over his powers..or he's just being nosy. "Y/n those thoughts are unbecoming of a lady of your stature" he slurs. I roll my eyes. "What's he talkin about?" Logan asks. "It's nothing." I quickly try to cover up the topic and try to change it. "So how was the bar?" I try to be friendly. Despite my rejection earlier I do still want to be friends with the guy. "Yeah? What do you care?" Ouch, I totally earned that. He rolls his eyes and begrudgingly sits next to me. I can feel annoyance rolling off of him. "Its fine. Friends?" His eyebrow quirks up with his head turned toward me slightly. I smile and take the olive branch. "Friends." Hank and Charles clap and 'woo'. 'friends! Friends!' they drunkenly cheer.

~~~~ Logan's Point of View

I'm sittin at the bar, puffin on a cheap cigar. Some old country song sets the ..ambience. Nursing the same glass of whisky I've had for an hour. I just don't feel right tonight. I feel a hand on my shoulder. Maybe Y/n decided to join me afterall. I turn in my stool, disappointed to see a shorthaired red head. Not Jean and definitely not Y/n. "Hi handsome, this seat taken?" She cocks her head to the side gesturing to the empty stool next to me. Fuck it, I'll bite. "Please, by all means". She's pleased with this if the small smile on her face means anything. "You come here often?" A dull line. Before I can answer the bartender comes over "Leave the man alone Carmila, my customers don't wanna pay for what you offer." Oh. So that's why she's here. I get up, pull my wallet out and leave a $50 on the bar. "For my drinks and hers. See ya next time bub." I throw back the rest of my drink and leave the empty glass on the bar. Done with this place. The girl doesn't bother to chase me outside. I ride over to the nearest gas station, fill up my tank and make it back to the mansion in no time. Another night wasted at the bar instead of being wasted at the bar. Walking into the front door I can hear faint laughter. The laughter leads me to the kitchen, from the hallway I can tell who it is. And those asshats are talkin about me? Is that gin I smell?

"...rather talk about how in love with The Wolverine our newest history teacher is.."

'What the hell is Hank on about? Beast never could handle his alcohol. He'd be the damn town gossip if he ever drank outside of this place. Ah what the hell, I'm buzzed, I'm bored, and those assholes in there are talking about me so why shouldn't I listen?...just for a little bit.'

I heard Y/n laugh, man I wish it was me making her laugh and not those bozos. "-m not in love with the guy," ouch. "I just have feelings for him." 'Woah woah, what the hell?' "No one else sees how sweet he is, in silent ways. How he's patient with his students. The jackass is only a jackass as a coping mechanism because he thinks if he has friends they'll all hate him so he hates them and himself before they have a chance. Is it fucked up logic and self-destructive? Absolutely. Does it make me want him more? Fuck yes. Did I chew myself out for rejecting him? God knows I did. But I'm the only motherfucker that's gonna take care of myself and as much I want him to be the man that I see, that I know he can be.. it's not gonna happen."

'aaaaaah shit-fuck..i fucked up. Now she thinks I'm a worthless ass who just thinks she's meat. I just wanted to show her a good time, and have a good time. I respect her and it's time I showed her that respect. Especially now I know she just turned me down out of respect for her own self worth. Thats fuckin rare. It makes me want her more. To hell with it, Jean made her choice. Now it's time I make mine.'

The next words I hear sting. I know Charles is just drunk but hell I like it here.

~~~~ back to Y/n's Point of View

'God Logan is so close he smells so good. Usually I hate the smell of cigars but fuck he makes it so tantalizing. It's like the man sweats in manly yankee candles' Charles once again laughs out loud at seemingly nothing. This causes everyone around the table to eye each other suspiciously. I stare at my soda, watching the bubbles trying to not be suspicious. "I think it's time we get wheels to bed before he hurts himself." Logan chides in with a smirk. Thankfully taking the heat off of me. Charles gets in a huff rightfully and calls Logan an "ableist immortal whose only contribution to society in the past two hundred years is all the bullets he's taken for the country" what a catty bitch, i respect it.

The walk to my room feels like forever. Walking past my desk I can't help but glare daggers at the papers mocking me from their neat pile. '..Later.' I told myself. Grabbing a sleep shirt from my dresser and new underwear, i cross the room and enter my bathroom. Grabbing my fluffiest towel, because self care, I turn my shower on and my speaker. Continuing the goth rock playlist from earlier Black Veil Brides' "Lost It All" is serenading the bathroom walls. The hot water releases only the first layer of tension in my shoulders, it's enough. I stay under the water for 15 more minutes until I've decided it's time to get out. Back to the evil dry world.

[crybabyhearts]

Think outside a the box this Holiday Season! Who needs socks for their cold feet, or a new video game ta keep kids happy? When you've got--

Me!

Introducin some terms an conditions-- I am here in the Tumblr multiverse market ta play with fate!

So say goodbye ta basic sales, an say hello ta fast service mail!

Do ya want a bottle a liquid youth for your grandma? How about a checkbook that dont run out?

Need help crammin for exams? With my help you can perfectly memorize everythin you just read for up ta 3 years time! Oh my!

Further Information an Rates Below! ♠

All transactions an trades made on Tumblr will follow a "Thou Shall do No Harm" business model. While Salut Inc is the property of Hell, we believe in Good Business.

This means that there will be no intent ta harm, maim, or kill. Some may see the word "Demon" or "Nightmare" an think that we want nothin but cruelty. But in fact, we simply want happy clientele!

An how you'll be happy can be shaped by you! With our new an improved flexible payment system!

♠ CASH PAYMENTS ﹃

All potential clients are more than welcome to, an even encouraged, to choose this plan! Cash (digital or otherwise) is the easiest way ta get your promised wishes without havin to worry about payments later down the line! All wishes come with their own rates an conditions. Choosin this payment method will lock you into a fixed rate calculated at the time of wish makin. No payments are required prior to delivery or exchange- givin you a window of time ta cancel the transaction if you so please! But I don't know why you'd want to!

♠ EXCHANGES & TRADES ﹃

Do you have something extraordinary on your hands? Somethin you could live without but would make others go "WOAH!"? Then you've got yourself a trade! No deposits, payments, or otherwise! We are always in the market for the freaky shit the multiverse can crap out! Ain't nothin sell better than somethin no one's ever seen before! All ya hafta do is match your request with an item, skill, or potential working contract a equal value! Easy as PIE!

♠ FAVORS ﹃

When you hear "favor" you usually think "I'm screwed.", but I am HAPPY ta let ya know that, that? Ain't the case! Favors are a special kind a currency, somethin ta build trust with. An I don't believe in fuckin up my flow. SO let's get inta em, shall we? ♠ Endless Checkbook - Endless Checkbooks come with a steady favor of Promotion, as every check is Salut Inc branded. ♠ Three Years of Crystal Clear Memory - This can include favors such as; The Use of Your Voice*, An Extra Tax Taken from Your Income, Promotion, etc! *When agreein to the conditions of Salut Inc usin your voice you are hereby consentin ta the followin examples: marketin lines on the radio, covers of songs, advertising campaigns, and more! ♠ A Bottle of Liquid Youth - Can I ask you a favor? Will you sign your soul away ta me so this bottle a youth can find its way to your loved ones lips? Now I'm sure this one sounds like a doozey! But you hafta consider the weight a life. Other RATES apply! (Soul favors do not increase the risk of death, or expedite it. Soul favors are simply that, a favor. Once the signed dies (a death without ANY second party involvement, even manipulation an hirin) their soul will simply be that of Salut Inc's jurisdiction, an will result in a specified Hellscape (Ours).)

SIDENOTE!!

Raph's been on my ass about takin breaks an makin friends. So bein my friend could count as a sort a favor. But you've gotta play the part! ;* Parties, board room bitchin an ventin, an hangovers galore!

That should be most things important or another! Business Inquiries @ IM's.

[fromthemindofagirlnamedcalalou]

My therapist told me I need to work on my coping skills. I thought back to what helped me most as a kid when my feelings became too big: I wrote in a diary. She also told me I need to practice being vulnerable in places I feel safe. Since I was 12, Tumblr has been a safe space. So 🤷‍♀️ here we are, folks. And here we go…

Dear future self,

I was tempted to write “dear diary” but it’s not the diary that ever reads it again. So, hey Calalou. How goes it? Life has been a strange day. Something really sad happened to my dad and Frankie is writing letters and Winnie is excelling in her career, and Christy can make a whole ass purse. Just a whole ass crocheted purse in like 3 hours. Ya know, no biggie. 🤯 Mama is doing okay. I want to get her out more but I know she hurts a lot and I know since COVID, leaving the house has been strange for her. I got Emily back. If you’re reading this and Emily is not in your life, stop reading this and go fix that shit. She’s your sister. James reached out. He’s happy to know I’m 29 months clean. Being clean from drugs and alcohol is weird, man. It’s like you wake up to this life that doesn’t even really feel like you own, and attached to you is this bag of bones - the shell of the person you were. And you gotta pick up all her shit? So, yeah, I hope you’re still healing. I’m really happy to be in therapy now and I hope you’re still doing that. CPTSD is no joke and you’ve gotta stay on top your healing. I hope you’re not letting the world drag you down in any way. Trust Allah and enjoy beautiful creation. Go hug a tree or some shit. Just go outside if you haven’t been there yet today. Idk man, I hope you’re happy. I hope you and our Higher Power are still the best of friends. I hope you still find a way to smile and laugh every day - even if it’s at your own expense. Forgive yourself. You are goodness. Don’t forget it.

I’m going to continue this I suppose. It’s helped. Maybe my therapist is onto something.

How do I end this shit?

Bye?

[kindofabisexualdisaster]

[hello! So, I’d been out of writing fanfiction for a LONG time. But! I’ve recently fallen in love with ‘The Owl House’ and it’s reignited my desire to write fanfiction! So, here is what is my first post on AO3 (I’m a Fanfiction.net survivor), since I decided to share it here as well since Tumblr’s getting a bit of a revival! Message me if you have any queries or wanna chat about it! Or, if you wanna read more, I’ll be posting more of this on here in the coming weeks, but on AO3 it is up to Chapter 35, so if you want the link to that, feel free to message and ask! Many thanks!]

The taste of iron was overwhelming Luz’s taste buds as the wind whipped through her hair. But, the sensation was very much so dwarfed by the open gash on her chest that was currently holding a steady flow of crimson dripping to the ground below.

At that moment, Eda was in Harpy form, and was holding Luz aloft while flying at top speed into the deepest parts of Bonesborough

“Ya know, it’d kinda be anticlimactic if something like this were to be the thing that takes me out. I really would’ve preferred if it was in a huge battle with the big ol’ evil mastermind, Belos,” the teen managed, before falling into a fit of coughs that splattered more blood into the winds.

“That’s right kid, that’s why you gotta stay with me until we get you to the Healers,” Eda said, forcing out the phrase, holding back the deluge of tears that was threatening to break through,” You can’t let your story end like this. You know I taught you better than that!”

Luz let out a frayed chuckle at that, and muttered,”Aww come on, Eda. Can’t you tell? I’m feeling better already. Might even run a marathon tomor-“

Luz was cut short for a hacking fit, spraying blood all over the harpy’s feathered chest, sending Eda into a more frenzied flight pattern.

“Hey, hey, kid, it’s okay! Take it easy and just focus on breathing. We’re gonna get you fixed up, and tell ya what: If you can run one tomorrow I’ll get up and run it with ya. No wings or anything!” Eda said, her voice filled with cracks.

Luz went silent for a moment, before she started to shake, and the tears broke through.

“Eda I’m not ready to go… I have so much I need to do… So many people I-“

Comfort the Owlet- preen the Owlet.

The Harpy’s thoughts in her head made Eda pull back the sweat-matted hair from in front of Luz’s face, and gingerly cup her cheek, “Luz, LUZ! You’re not going anywhere kid. They’re gonna fix you all up and we’ll be home for pancakes with King in the morning! I promise!”

Luz cracked out what looked to be a hopeful smile, before her eyes glazed over, and rolled into the back of her head, and her body began to seize.

“SHIT!” The harpy exclaimed, loud enough to wake half the town.

Eda steeled her resolve at this, and dove into a deep dive to pick up her speed, and somehow maneuvered her way through the streets, holding to this speed as if her life depended on it.

Well, not her life.

She carried that speed into the lobby of a larger building- not even stopping outside. Once through the tall open doors, she stopped herself with a powerful backward thrust of her wings, and immediately screamed for all the help she could get, laying the still seizing body of her apprentice on the ground, and cradling her head.

It was mere seconds before she had been swarmed with at least 6 healers, all getting Luz onto a gurney, and getting her vitals. They rattled off important question after important question- but Eda silenced them all when she looked at them and told them Luz was human.

They all stared at her, then at Luz, then to each other with shock on their faces. Then, a familiar face stepped between Eda and Luz.

It was a large, slate grey looking humanoid, with two ragged looking horns adorning his forehead. He wore small, wire-rimmed glasses, and had a deathly-serious expression on his face.

“Edalyn- has your apprentice ever had healing Magic conducted on her? She’s HUMAN! Hells, we don’t know what it could do to the poor girl. We certainly don’t have any human blood to transfuse, and at this point, I don’t know if we could d-“

“Trill, you better not be getting ready to tell me you’re going to do nothing, and just let her die,” Eda growled, her words dripping with the deadliest of venom.

“No, Eda. But…. If we are going to try anything that MIGHT have a chance to save her, it would have to be through healing magic- and STRONG magic,” the demon said, meeting Eda’s eyes with the same intensity,” So you need to make a call. You are her mentor, and guardian. Are you giving us permission to attempt large scale healing magic on your apprentice?”

Eda’s expression met Trill’s, and then it absolutely shattered to one of panic- which….. oddly disturbed Trill much more.

“Trill, I don’t KNOW. What if the Magic just slowly kills h-“

Eda was interrupted by another, more severe fit of seizures from her apprentice on the gurney.

“Eda, I need an answer. NOW!”

Eda froze like a deer in headlights, as she watched Luz’s convulsing body. She was snapped out of it when Trill literally smacked her across the face and directed her face back to himself.

“EDA, NOW! YES OR NO?” Trill demanded, holding her by the shoulders.

“YES!” She shrieked,” DO ANYTHING YOU FUCKING NEED TO!”

Trill nodded, a fire burning behind his eyes.

“We will do everything in our power to bring her back to you,” he promised, before nodding to the team to take her to the back. He pointed to one of the team members in particular and commanded,” Get the ArchMage, this is the highest priority. NOW.”

Trill followed up to the door as the team pushed Luz’s convulsing body through, and only looked back at Eda before passing through the door to offer a determined nod.

Eda nodded back, and then paused a moment, before fully collapsing, and succumbing to the breakdown that had been fighting to burst through. The administrators only watched as her large, bloodied, harpy form was wracked with sobs and wails as she laid in fetal position on the cold, unforgiving floor…

[nefertsukia]

Okay, is it me or is Tumblr severely suffering with A WHOLE LOT of porn blog spam bots ? I find them not such searching unrelated hashtags, but also looking through comments of Popular posts. There's heaps of them. It's gotten really out of hand. :/

[onehyperfixationatatime]

Best friend!Argyle listening to the reader complain about a crush

Summary: You confide in your best friend argyle about a secret crush from your past. A boy you loved in Hawkins, but could never confess your feelings for.

Authors note: I have been SCOURING tumblr for some Best friend!Argyle content and I’ve found nothing?? So I figured if I can’t find it, write it.

Warnings: this is a first draft. Pls ignore any writing mistakes🥲I also have not written fanfiction in literal years so bear with me as I allow my creative juices to flow.

Your best friend Argyle was eyeing you suspiciously as you wrote in your notebook. “Whatcha writin?” he asks before taking a hit from the bong. You squeal, sitting up on his bed and looking at him. “I can’t stop thinking about this boy from Hawkins..”

You and your brothers, Johnathan and Will, as well as your mom Joyce and your…adoptive sister El, had moved to Lenora from Hawkins about a year ago.

“A boy from Hawkins? Is he like, a cute boy?” Argyle asks you in between coughs. “First of all, dude you have got to change that bong water. That shit grows mold in like three days, ew.” you say, causing him to look down at his bong, inspecting the water to see how gross it is. He makes a face of disgust. “Fair point. What’s second of all?”

“He is so cute!”

“Like a scale of 1 to 10.”

“Like 100!”

“Well damn girl does this mystery boy have a name?” Argyle asks, genuinely interested. You love how good of a listener Argyle is. He’s always genuinely interested in what you have to say. He never makes you feel like what you care about doesn't matter.

“His name is Eddie. He’s the coolest guy I’ve ever met, and everyone thinks he’s some freak, but he’s literally the sweetest guy ever. Anyway, long story super short, he’s basically the love of my life who I can never ever under any circumstances confess my feelings to because of the chance of me ruining our friendship.”

Argyle looks at you with squinted eyes, not sure how to help the situation. “So.. what are you writing?”

“It’s a letter.. to Eddie. A confession I will probably never send.” You say sadly, looking down at your notebook. “You gotta send that shit man,” argyle says, standing up and grabbing the notebook from you. You don’t object, letting him read it. “You gotta mail this shit right now,” he says tossing it on the bed. “You can’t just keep these feelings bottled up! Tell him how you feel!”

“Who?” Johnathan says, having now returned from the bathroom. . “This Eddie dude,” Argyle says ratting you out.

You playfully smack him with the notebook. “Argyle!”

“Oh yeah, I’ve been waiting for her to do that for years. Good luck man,” Johnathan says. “We gotta head out in like 10 minutes, but uh, let me get some of that,” he says, gesturing to the bong. You grab it from the floor and hand it to your brother. He sits in one of the bean bag chairs that is on Argyle’s bedroom floor. “I just don't know what to do. I don't want to ruin things between us. What if Eddie doesn’t feel the same?” you complain, throwing yourself face first into a pillow.

Jonathan takes a massive hit, handing the bong to argyle who was already blazed enough. “He does, everyone can see it. You and he are the only ones who can’t,” Jonathan says in between fits of coughing. He smiles sorta and closes his eyes, letting his head fall back in the chair, feeling instantly relaxed. “Well there’s your answer man, purple palm tree delight!” Argyle says with a big goofy smile. “Shit fixes everything..” He taps your foot to get you to sit up and hands you the bong. You sit up and take it from him, taking a hit slightly smaller than Johnathan’s. You all sit in silence for about three minutes before it hits you.

“I’ll go back for spring break! Yeah, Mike is coming to see El and Will, I’ll just go back to Hawkins! I’m sure the Wheelers would be happy to let me stay there. It will be nice to see everyone. And… maybe ill finally tell Eddie how I feel about him.”

“Told ya it fixes everything.”

“Shit we gotta leave now if we want to get Will and El from school,” Jonathan says, shooting up from his seat. You had convinced the two boys to skip school with you today, something you often used to do with Eddie.

To be continued? I might link this up somehow with my steve x reader x eddie love triangle story. We shall see? Thoughts?

[stinkywinke]

Twelve Minutes

I am obsessed with twelve minutes sooo, why not make an imagine about it 🧍‍♀️

Also this is the first time I have ever used tumblr, and my grammar is very poor. I will try and get used to the way tumblr works and hopefully if I have any motivation I will start writing more :) My writing skills are bad so this is going to be choppy

Another note : The roles are reversed, so instead of the reader being the husband, its going the be the wife figuring everything.

clench ya butt cheeks

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Readers POV:

No..no, no, no, this can’t be it

As I took a step into my apartment I heard my husband in the bathroom humming a soft tune. 10 minutes. The pills. The cop. The pocket watch.

“Hey, I didn’t hear you come in”

I looked up to see h/n (Husbands name) walking towards me with a smile and pulling me in to a passionate kiss.

“I made desert, let me know if your in the mood” He stated while making his way on to the couch.

I give a quick nod signaling that I would tell him when I was ready. Quickly glancing around my home I made my way to the sink and filled up a mug of water, the floorboards creaking in a specific spot as I ambled to the bathroom. I opened the medicine cabinet grabbing ahold of the sleeping pills and pouring them into the mug, and going back into the living room to see h/n reading a book.

"I think its a good time for desert” I suggested

“Ok, babe” h/n replied with a sweet smile

He noticed the cup in my hand and turned around to the fridge and got the desert out. I placed the drugged mug by where h/n was sitting and got my own mug instead.

“So how was work?”

“It was alright, met a couple of new people, Its going great” I said as I saw h/n drinking his water

“How about you? How was your day?”

“Same old day I guess it just repeats itself” he said as his eyes started drooping down into a sleepy matter

Tch.. talk about repeating

“Im feeling so tired all of a sudden, Im gonna go lay down”

“Okay baby, goodnight”

As soon as I saw h/n close the bedroom door I scampered to the closet and closed the door behind me aware that the cop will be here in a few minutes

Now we wait…

“Police!, open up I have a warrant”

My breathe hitched as I heard him turn the doorknob and stepped into the house

“Hello?, anyone home?”

“Police” the cop shouted when he opened the door

“Police, I have a warrant”

He made his final call making his way into the bedroom,hearing the light switch turn on a scream came from the man as he layed unconscious on the floor. After hearing nothing but silence I crept out the door into the room, searching for the valuables from the cops uniform

The gun, 2 handcuffs, the knife, and the phone

As I did last time,Rolling him over, gripping both of his wrists and tieing them together, I remembered there was a little box with my mothers name on it.

A/N : I did change the baby clothes to a necklace, kind of like a bday gift

My hand trembled to the gift lying on the table next to the flowers, I held it and stuffed the box into my front pocket. I took my time staring at the man in awe and confusion

He’s already told me why he’s here, he told me he was a good friend of my husband’s father. He’s hiding something.

“Augh- what- you little shit”

The cop was stirring awake from the electrocution but only figuring it all together that he was handcuffed. He glared at my shoes as some kind of threat and saying words, pleading to be let go, I reached into my pocket pulling out the box and showing the man the name on the necklace

“Do you recognise this name?”

“Dahlia? Yeah I knew her so what?”

“Do you know anything about her?”

“Yeah, she was the mother of your husbands sister”

Mother of my husband’s sister? But that was my mothers name

“Just let me go you prick”

“I promise im innocent I dont have anything to do with this”

“Okay maybe if you let me go, I wont kill you” the cop stated in a cold and tone

I took the knife out of my pocket and handed him his things, he asked…

“Im here for a pocket watch very valuable… do you have it?”

“Yeah, I’ll go get it now”

Thoughts were running in my head as I went to go to the bathroom to get the strange watch

Mother of my husbands sister? Dahlia, thats my mothers name… no it can’t be.

I grasped the pocket watch in my hand, watching is slowly turn clock-wise

“Have you found it yet? I dont have all day!”

My hand gave out to him, as he took the pocket watch

“Im gonna need a few minutes with your husband, go sit on the couch, but if you do anything stupid, I’ll kill you..” he demanded

He’s gonna kill him, I know, so lets just let it happen.

BANG!

A bead of sweat drip down my forehead as I smelled the scent of blood coming from the other room

Mothers name of husbands sister, husband said he got a necklace with my mothers name on it, Dahlia. So if dahlia is my mother h/n is my… brother. My own brother is my husband. Fuck no please, I have to get out

Sprinted across the room to the door and made my way out just to end up in the same place as always.

“No.. fuck no no no no- this can’t be happening please”

My husband came out of the bathroom again with a panic and worry on his face and started to bombard me with questions.

“Y/n?”

“Baby are you ok?”

“What happened honey?”

“Whats wrong?”

I’ve had enough

“S-STOP IT, GO AWAY”

“Baby whats wrong” he pleaded with concern

“NO! Please I have to go” I shouted at him as I bolted through the door coming back to the same gentle humming tune coming from the bathroom.

“Hey, I didnt hear you come in”

Again met with the same eyes with my lover ugh- brother, I cant tell him, I cant.

“Hey babe” I said as he kissed me once again,

this is wrong

“I made dessert, let me know if your in the mood”

The same sentence every ten minutes.

Snatching the pocket watch from the ventilation grid, the grunting and groaning leaving my mouth as I tried to get up from the pain in my back,

The watch was broken. Turning the long handle I fixed it back to its place, 2 minutes before 12. I saw the world turn into a dark abyss, the watch turning anti clock- wise, my hand slowly fading into the tiles of the bathroom, my eyes growing heavy and started to close putting me into a deep sleep

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey there he is… your back”

Huh?

“Look, I know this is a… terrible shock. But we need to be on the same page. Look, I… These feelings for my son… your brother. This isn’t how I wanted to tell you…you deserve… both of you deserve better.”

He said with a long pause

“Yknow the thing I hate the most, worst thing in the world?… Disappointing my lil boy. Well that was the worst thing…. And now a baby… you with your little… love… I guess it was always gonna happen”

He said as he walked around in disbelief and ignorance

“Nothing stays swallowed down forever. So, you gonna make a call”

“If i could go back..” I started

“Well. Things would be different. But you can’t just try again. Thats not how life works! So, you gotta make the choice, and make it now”

…

“Say something”

H/n’s book about zen..

“Fine!, your gonna force it by hand? Fine!”

“Hey “its only by forgetting that.. we ever really drop the thread of time, and approach the experience of living in the present moment””

“Ah, you’ve read that one, eh?”

“I know the idea of forgetting things sounds crazy but, what if… you could?

I can help with that if you want. All you have is the future, you’ll forget everything you went through. All the pain. All the stress. Forgotten forever. But, you need to understand there is no turning back. You can’t undo this… we can still talk about him but you need to choose an answer…”

I stared at the clock as I watch it about to turn twelve

“you don’t have to forget if you don’t want to, The choice is yours”

12:00

DING!

“ you do have a remarkable imagination… The stories you’ve created… but believing them so strongly, so deeply is unhealthy… you have to let him go… you can’t keep obsessing over him… sometimes things are just as what they are…

Its time for you to wake up…

[amymel86]

Hello! Do you have any bits of your awesome writing to share for WIP wednesday?😍

I just saw this anon!

And thank you for asking <3

This is a bit more of this as yet untitled 'post-apocalyptic/fertility/modern arranged relationship???' fic. The first bit I posted on tumblr is here and as before, some things are not yet decided (like town names) and things may change...

“Are you sure this is what you want to do, darling?” Her mother’s voice on the telephone was a balm to her soul.

Sansa’s finger brushed the soft vivid petals of the small potted iris she’d bought at the store today. The iris symbolises hope, wisdom and courage among other things and she prays that the pretty purple and yellow bloom will lend her some of those. “I’ve got to try something, Mum,” she says, turning her attention to the two separate bundles of paper in front of her. Two men, two candidates, two different futures. Sansa had filled out all the matching service’s extensive questionnaires and scrutinised all the information she could find on the program. It seemed simple enough – you’re rewarded for helping to repopulate. In turn, the authorities help to pair you with someone who should be a good match dependant on all the information they have about you. The aim is that this new generation of children are raised in the traditional family unit. That had appealed to Sansa. “I can’t seem to find the right guy all on my own anyway,” she said into her phone.

“How do you know it will be safe, though?”

“It says here that my situation will be monitored by my own caseworker. I can call them any time I want. They’re not just going to drop me at the guy’s house and just leave us get on with it.”

“Hmmm... tell me about them? These men that they’ve narrowed down for you.”

“One’s called Waymar, he’s a financial advisor here in the Vale,” Sasna pauses, looking at the man’s photograph on his paperwork before fishing out the other. “And the other is called Jon, he owns a farm in the Reach.”

“None in the north then?” Her mother has been itching to get her back home. “I just wish there was a way to know that either of them were good men, Sansa. That’s all I want for you.”

Sansa put the two photos together. Two possible fathers for her child.

“That’s what I want too.”

***

“Shit! Holy fucking shit!” Jon says to himself, hanging up from his phone-call. “Mance!” he yells, bursting out of his trailer to find the old man. “Mance! It worked! It fucking worked!”

He’d relented. When Mance first put it to him that he should sign up for that weird government breeding program or whatever the fuck it was, he thought the old man’s last brain-cell must’ve fried up in the sun. But if they were going to make it easier for them and it meant Mance could keep the farm (and Jon could carry on living there rent free), then it was worth a shot. So he had relented. He’d filled out what seemed to be a gazillion and one questions about himself, his politics, his views on family and finances and education and fucking... art and shit. These damned government people wanted to know everything about him down to whether he scrunched or folded his toilet paper it seemed. He’d even had to lie. He didn’t like doing it, but there was no way that a fertile was going to pick him if he didn’t. So, he fished out an old photograph – one taken before the bar brawl that lost him his sight in one eye, and he’d also lied his asscheeks off by claiming he had ownership of the farm. He knew – he knew – that these lies are just more things that were going to trip him up one of these days but with Mance urging him on, he’d signed that damn form and offered himself up for the program.

And now a fertile had chosen him.

Him.

Fuck, he might throw up.

This can go one of two ways. Either completely up Shit Creek without a paddle – with his lies and reality crashing down on top of one another, leaving them exposed... or, his fertile somehow looks past his deceits and sticks with him and they-... well, shit, he could actually become a father. No-one becomes parents these days, especially not ‘round here. Fertiles flock to the big cities, to men with bigger pockets, or they work for couples who can afford to pay them off in exchange for a kid or two.

“It worked?” Mance asks, rolling out from under an old Ford pickup that needed a new exhaust. “They sendin’ us a peach?”

Jon shook his head. “They’re not sendin’ you anyone, old man. An’ don’t call her that – they’re-“ Fuck, what did the council call them on all that paperwork? “Reproductively abled.” He’ll have to remember that if he doesn’t want to offend her.

“Well, shit,” Mance grins. “What did I tell ya? Knew your pretty face was good for somethin’!”

Jon frowns. “Ain’t so pretty no more though.” He might have to go get himself a patch to cover his milky, sightless eye. It’s fine most of the time since Mance is the only one he sees unless he’s going to drink at Hobb’s, but he certainly doesn’t want to put off his ferti- reproductively abled friend who’ll be arriving in three weeks.

“She got a name? Your new peach?” Mance asked, earning him a glare.

“Sansa. Sansa Stark.”

Mance grunts and nods. “Sounds fancy.”

Yeah... It did sound kinda fancy he supposes. Jon’s first reaction had been that it was a mighty beautiful name, but now he thinks of it...

“Shame we can’t look her up – see if she’s a beauty or not.”

Jon can’t remember a time when that was an option. He was barely 11 at the highest point of the virus’s hold. Government officials had deemed certain channels on the internet were causing more harm than good by spreading false rumours, incorrect statistics and completely counterintuitive medical advice. The whole thing was shut down, now deemed illegal, only to be reconnected again three years later apparently looking like a foreign landscape from the one before. The internet was no longer a platform to socialise, only government approved informative sites remained. Mance says it’s better this way – that all people used to do was post vain images of themselves for attention anyway.

Jon wouldn’t mind seeing a vain image of Sansa Stark right about now though.

Not that it mattered terribly. As long as they get along and she decides to stick around she could be as ugly as sin. In fact, she probably will be, won’t she? Most pretty ferti- reproductively abled women stick to the cities and its high-fliers.

It doesn’t matter, he told himself. You just gotta keep her happy here and-

“Mance?” he asks, an issue coming to mind. The man grunts in acknowledgement. “Where the fuck is she gonna sleep? She’s not gonna want to stay in my trailer.”

The man grins in response. “I’m glad you asked, boy. I’m glad you asked.”

***

Her caseworker was meant to meet her at the train station. It was quite a drive to the farm and he was meant to pick her up, make sure she’s safe and happy and introduce her to Jon.

That hasn’t happened.

“Please accept my apologies, my dear,” Mr Baelish said down the other end of the phone. “There’s been a mix up with my schedule. We can set you up for the night at a local motel or ask your match to come and get you. Which would you prefer?”

Sansa eyes the dirty looking motel across the street from the train station. Everything here at [[INSERT TOWN NAME]] seems a little on the... rundown side. Maybe the sooner she gets to the farm, the better. Plus, her tummy is all a flutter with anticipation to actually meet Jon. She’d wound up swaying towards Jon as a match due to a few reasons; 1 – he does not live in, around, or anywhere near Harry or his crazy mother. 2 – he owns a farm, and that had conjured up hazy daydreams of idyllic country life. Sansa may enjoy big nights out in the city, drinking her dirty margaritas and feeling her bones vibrate against the base beat in a nightclub, but she knows that’s not what she wants to raise a child around. A child will want to run barefoot through wheat fields and chase chickens and milk cows and –

Let’s just say Sansa has a few ideas and that they all helped to sway her away from city pleasures and towards farmhouse life. And Jon

And last, but not least, reason number 3 – Jon himself. Put side-by-side, his and Waymar’s photographs looked rather similar if truth be told, but Jon won out on something that Sansa just couldn’t describe. Looking at his photograph gave her goosepimples along her forearms because it was like he was looking right back at her. There was something in the depths of his eyes – a kindness? A wit? A strength? She’s not sure, but she couldn’t find the same qualities when she stared at Waymar’s likeness. And his answers too. His questionnaire was full of how he’d like to teach a kid how to walk and ride a bike and fix a... a tractor for heaven’s sake! And so her head was flooded once more of this idyllic life where they got up to watch the dawn stretch over the farmland and they’d grow their own vegetables and she’d bake a pie every day and it would just be perfect.

Perfect, perfect, perfect.

Sansa glances around the near abandoned train station.

This doesn’t look so perfect right now.

“Could you please arrange for Jon to come and get me, Mr Baelish?”

***

It’s been an hour and fifty-six minutes precisely since Sansa last spoke to Mr Baelish to arrange her match coming to get her. An hour and fifty-six minutes of sitting on the curb, waiting, surrounded by her three suitcases. She’d started off by sitting at the nearby bus stop, purely because it was somewhere to sit and she had a clear view of the road, but after the rude bus driver insisted that if she’s sat there, she must be wanting to hop on his bus, Sansa decided to park her butt on the dusty, sun-baked curb instead. Her legs were beginning to numb and she was starting to get a headache from the sun beaming down on her head. The curls she’d styled into her copper locks have likely lost their hold by now. What a waste. Opposite, on the other side of the street, beside the dirty little motel, there was a tiny bar that advertised the fact that it hosted exotic dancers at the weekends with a blinking neon sign. Next to it was a hunting and fishing ‘emporium’ and beside that was a vacant store with an old dirty sign that read ‘Blouses & More!’. Presumably, the ‘& more’ still wasn’t enough to keep that fine establishment in business in this funny little town. At the end of the block was ‘Tarly’s Drugstore’ and Sansa had been debating with herself whether or not she should haul her suitcases over to go buy a drink and a magazine for about the last hour and fifty-five minutes.

But she hadn’t wanted to miss Jon Snow’s arrival.

Jon Snow, who seemed to be pulling up outside Tarly’s Drugstore in a dusty Ford pickup truck right about now. Sansa stood, expecting him to come right on over considering how long she’d been waiting for him, but she found herself wondering if she’d got it all wrong when she hadn’t caught a good enough look at him before he darted straight into the store.

Sansa is done with waiting. She grabs her smallest case and places it on top of her larger one, trying her darnedest to roll all her luggage across the road in a lady-like fashion. She could feel the eyes of several passers-by on her while her stiletto heels clip across the street. In turn, her own gaze fell to Jon’s cream-coloured truck. Its front bumper looked a little rusty and wonky too. There was a big gash in the leather of the bench seating on the passenger side. On the truck bed, there were a number of items, including a rocking chair that seems to have a couple of spindles on the chair-back missing, and a new double bed mattress wrapped in clear plastic. Sansa was almost done frowning at the state of the vehicle when the over-door bell of the drugstore tinkles.

“Holy shit,” he curses. And yes, it definitely was Jon standing right in front of her. Only... well... his hair was tied into a knot at the back of his head and.... and... he was wearing a black eye patch? “Uh,” he stood there, arms laden with bottles from the store as the gaze from his one good eye quickly darted down her frame and back up again. “You’re her, right? You’re Sansa Stark?”

Sansa found she could only nod, looking him up and down, like he was with her. He was in jeans with oil smears, some tough, heavy looking boots, a somehow pristine white vest and flannel shirt with the arms ripped off.

Speaking of arms...

Gods-damn! Sansa’s focus was momentarily derailed...

“Sorry, I-“ Jon starts before his grey eye drops to the floor and then returns to her, looking a little bashful. “I didn’t expect you to be so pretty.”

Oh boy. He may be wearing an eye patch right now but this man could win over a thousand girls with that smile, Sansa’s sure of it. She resists the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl. She’s here to find out if they’re well suited enough to start a family together – she needs to keep her head and think rationally, not allow herself to be swayed by his rugged country boy charm. It was Harry’s looks that enticed her in the first place – and look how well that turned out for her?

“Thank you,” Sansa says, blinking back at him before his words truly hit home. “Didn’t they give you my photograph?”

Jon shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

Huh.

“Did they show you mine?”

Sansa bites her lip and gives a nod.

Jon grimaces. “So I guess you weren’t expecting this?” He points to his patch.

Sansa shakes her head. “No... did you... did you do something to injure it?”

Jerking his head, Jon begins rubbing at the back of his neck with his free hand. “It’s a long story... but... it ain’t gonna get any better, if that’s what you’re askin’.”

“Oh.”

They stood, staring at one another for a heartbeat or five before Jon sucks in a breath over his teeth and glances down to the bottles he clutched to his chest with one arm. “I tried to get you some things to help you feel at home,” he says, “these are the nicest smellin’ soaps ‘n’ stuff from Tarly’s.”

“Thank you,” Sansa replies, knowing full well that she brought her Highgarden Floral Scents bathroom range with her.

Jon chews on his lip as he eyes her suitcases. “Lemme get those for you,” he offers before dumping the bottles in his arms into the truck bed and reaching for her luggage. Sansa’s heeled shoes seem welded to the spot. Jon notices. Scrubbing both hands down his face in resignation, he takes a step closer to her and Sansa realises for the first time, that he had dirt beneath his fingernails. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. “It was a shitty thing for me to do,” he offers, his words low and husky. Sansa feels the timbre of his voice set off a trickle of gooseflesh down her spine. “I’m sorry.”

She blinks at him, momentarily confused.

“About this,” he explains, brows high on his head as he points to his patch. “I shouldn’t have sent that old photo of before this happened, but – fuck – even my ex-girl won’t acknowledge I exist anymore with this and I knew I shoulda been honest about it but-“

“This ex-girl...” Sansa suddenly found herself left with a sour taste in her mouth. “... does she still mean something to you?”

Jon licks at his lips, his eye falling briefly to her own. “No, ma’am,” he shakes his head.

[ren1327]

Close to Me

A Huskerdust/Angelhusk tumblr exclusive fic based on Ellie Goulding's "Close to Me" feat. Diplo and Swae Lee.

Part of the Light up the Night storyline

CW: Lots of cussing, mentions of sex and bullying Moxxie

---------------

SLAM!

Charlie jumped when she heard a door upstairs slam, then a hard pounding on wood before a frustrated yell had her on her feet.

She nearly ran into Husk as he stalked to the bar, grabbing a bottle off the shelf and uncorking it, taking several large gulps.

“Um…Everything good, Husk?” She asked.

Niffty suddenly hopped past, whining softly to herself as she leapt into the kitchen, hearing pots and pans banging.

Charlie looked at Husk, who had started on a second bottle and quickly followed the cyclops girl.

“Hey, Niffty?” Charlie asked.

Niffty was quickly measuring out flour and muttering to herself as she grabbed some eggs.

“Sad brownies?” Charlie asked as Niffty grabbed a block of fudge, then turned a grabbed a second.

“Sad brownies.” She said and turned to tie her hair in two short pigtails and wash her hands.

“What happened?” Charlie asked when Niffty gave her a bowl and whisk.

“Oh, Miss Charlie…” Niffty sighed and started chopping nuts. “It was awful!”

*

EARLIER...

“Dance with me, Husk.” Angel teased as they walked past a club, Niffty peeking inside and grinning.

“We gotta get this stuff back to the hotel, Ang.” Husk said. “Some other time, okay?”

“Fiiiiine!” Angel huffed and reached for Husk’s hand.

Husk pulled his fingers away and crossed his arms.

Angel blinked. “The fuck?”

“Not here, Angel.” Husk said and looked at an old poster of Angel in drag.

Angel’s eyes followed his and he scoffed.

“Are ya serious?” He asked and stalked ahead, Niffty looking from Husk to Angel before hopping to the former’s side.

“Husky, what’s going on?” She asked.

“Nothin’, Niff.” He grumbled.

The walk back was tense and silent as they all made it back into the hotel.

Angel dropped his things on the counter and went up to his room, Husk cursing and following after his boyfriend once the groceries had been put away.

Niffty cocked her head and leapt up the stairs, hearing muffled shouting.

“…fuckin’ scared to be seen with me?”

“…know damn well I don’t give a shit!”

“Be honest Husk!” Angel yelled as Niffty placed her ear near the door. “Ya think I’m disgusting or somethin’? Think I’m too much of a slu—”

“Shut up!” Husk yelled. “I just…I don’t think…Ang…we’re…not good enough to been seen together…”

Niffty squinted her eye, Husk voice very low.

“Good en---Good enough?!” Angel yelled and there was the sound of glass breaking.

Niffty ran behind a plant as Husk ran out, a perfume bottle smashing behind his feet as he turned.

“Angel…I didn’t mean it like that…Angel!” Husk yelled as the door slammed. He pounded on the door before yelling in frustration and going down the stairs.

*

NOW...

Niffty sighed. “I think I get what Husk meant. I hear him talking with Mimzy when she’s over."

“Oh?” Charlie asked as they waited for the brownies to bake.

“It’s not Angel isn’t good enough.” She looked up at Charlie. “It’s Husk. He thinks he’s not good enough to be seen with Angel.”

“And so Angel…oooooh.” Charlie said. “What should we do?”

“Brownies and milk.”

“Right! Any alcohol will make Angel spiral!” Charlie said. “He’ll lose all his progress!”

“…No, milk just taste better with brownies….” Niffty said with a frown.

“Right, right, right…” Charlie laughed awkwardly. “Sorry.”

Niffty huffed and heard the oven ding, taking the brownies out and letting them cool as she set up a tray.

“Ya know, Miss Charlie, sometimes we just gotta do what’s best for people in their own way.”

“But Angel staying clean is best for him—”

“Angel, not the hotel.”

“I…I think I have an idea. But I might need some help.”

She grimaced as she took out her phone and shot a text.

“Okay, Niffty, we might need a few more batches of brownies…” Charlie said. “And some of the good liquor I know you stowed away for this kind of situation. Let’s move all this to the home theater. And make sure the front room is clear.”

“Why both rooms?”

*

“That’s such bull!” Loona said as she downed another shot.

“How can he imply he’s better than you?” Octavia added.

“Yeah, Angie, you’re like, the fucking best!” Cherri said and stuffed another brownie in her mouth.

“Thanks gals.” Angel said, sniffing and taking another tissue from Millie. Then another shot.

Niffty sat on one of the sofas, a weird cartoon playing on the screen no one was paying attention to. She quietly excused herself and hopped to the other side of the hotel where Husk was drinking from another bottle as Blitzo chattered away.

“Listen, they all throw fits, but just have really rough angry se—”

“Sir!” Moxxie interrupted. “The best response is proper communication. As a happily married man, I can say with confidence—”

“No one cares about your boring married life!” Blitzo said and pushed Moxxie off his stool.

“Blitzy Dear…” Stolas cooed. “Aren’t we in a committed relationship?”

“Well I mean, yes.” Blitz said with a blush. “But! Marriage makes it less…sexy.”

“I see. But being my consort is much more…enticing?” Stolas purred, leaning against his partner.

“Uh…”

“Fellas!” Mimzy chided. “This isn’t helping.”

Husk was sobbing now. “I fucked up again…”

“Oh, Husker…” Mimzy said and rubbed his shoulders. “Alastor! Can’t you help us?”

The Radio Demon looked up from his drink, cocking his head. “Oh, I’m trying, my Love.”

“Tryin—Alastor! What are you up to?” The shorter demon asked her lover.

Niffty chirped and gasped, running back to the theater.

She burst in to see the same scene she had just escaped from.

Husk blubbered.

“He’s so fuckin’ beautiful, Mimz!” He said. “Like, look at ‘im! Hic! ‘Den look at me! He’s too good fa’ me and I hate…”

Angel’s eyes were transfixed on the screen.

“Hate how people look at us. ‘Dis tall fuckin’ babe and his shlubby boyfriend!”

“You’re not shlubby—” Mimzy said.

“Yes, I am!” Husk said and hiccupped. “I’m an ugly old man and he’s just! Just!”

“Just what?” Mimzy asked, side eying Blitzo and Stolas escaping into the hall to a bedroom.

“He’s fuckin’ perfect! He’s pretty an’, an’ has a nice voice…His cute widdle snore an’ man! Can he shoot, Mimz! He’s so fuckin’ vicious when he wanna be!” Husk said, waving his bottle around. “He looks so happy when he’s mowing down fuckers! Yeah, I snap at ‘im. But he can always tell when I’m bullshitting ‘im. We get in our little back and forths an’…he does dis little pout that melt me, ya know?”

Angel chuckled.

“His laugh…” Husk continued Mimzy carefully took the bottle. He mixed his drink with a smile. “Fuckin’ infectious. An’ he always smells so fuckin’ good. He looks at me like…like I’m da best damn ting in da world, ya know?”

He smiled into his glass.

“When Angel is…well, if anyone makes it outta here…I hope it’s Angel…I want ‘im happy.” Husk said. “I love him—”

Angel tackled him on screen, and everyone was shocked to see Angel had sprinted down the halls to kiss Husk's face.

“Love ya too, Husky!” Angel yelled happily, kissing the cat demon's cheeks and lips over and over.

Husk clutched him tight in a hug. “I’m sorry, Baby.”

“I know, I know, Husky.” Angel whispered. “Let’s get ya sobered up, Baby. Then we can cuddle with Nuggs.”

“Love Nuggs.” Husk mumbled as Angel picked him up, his wings dragging behind them.

“Aw~” Millie cooed as the girls joined the rest of the group in the front.

“Well, it’s late.” Charlie said.

Vaggie placed her hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Feel free to stay the night.”

They suddenly heard pounding from Blitzo and Stolas’s room.

“Ew.” Loona and Octavia said.

“I just fixed that damn wall!” Vaggie huffed and shook her head.

Niffty offered her the last brownie, the taller demon smiling at her as they dispersed.

*

Angel rubbed the base of Husk’s ears as he purred into his chest fluff.

“Ya wrong, Baby.” Angel said.

Husk moaned sleepily.

“We good.” Angel said, pulling the other into a kiss. “Together.”

“But…”

“Shut up.” Angel chuckled. “Just stay close to me. And love me like ya do, okay?”

“Love ya, Angel...” Husk agreed.

“Love ya too, Husky~”

[sbeefs]

uhhh generally nsfw text warning?? some talk of p*rn and such and also sexuality and male partner, lmao

listing myself as bisexual on here has opened such a can of worms in my head because I was given unfiltered access to the internet at far too early of an age and I basically immediately fell into obsessively looking at fucked up porn art. like I couldn’t deal with real porn even before I knew how fucked it was behind the scenes (and on camera), like I’m an autistic mess who can barely look at people’s faces in real life let alone when they’re naked and fucking or whatever. so I just looked at art and that’s a mixed blessing bc while it isn’t real, it’s probably partially referenced from real porn and the limits of the human body in reality no longer exist so you get some really fucked up shit going on that I’m not gonna get into the details of bc no one needs that. but let’s just say I was getting into some bizarre, abstract stuff and like, it’s all drawn by men, all of it. I had some access to female drawn porn that was usually better on tumblr but after the porn ban I lost all of that and was just stuck with male-drawn garbage where consent was nonexistent always, like either right from the start or a woman would consent and then it’d go too far and she’d want it to stop and it wouldn’t. it sucked so much but I guess I was kinda addicted and fucked in the brain so it felt like that’s all I could jack off to ever. 

and I had (and still have) a complete disconnect between myself and my libido, just crippling self hatred and disgust for my body and self so I turn myself off, so when I’m trying to get off, I just don’t put myself in any situation, I’m not included. and for my entire teens I considered myself asexual because I had no interest in touching anyone else or having sex or dating or kissing or anything, I just had my weird, abstract porn that made me feel like shit. and then at like 18-ish I went “asexuality is not real I don’t think, so what am I” and bc I still wasn’t feeling anything or at least not recognising it as feeling something, I went “statistically speaking I am probably heterosexual” so I went with that. and then at 18 I met a guy online and we became friends and then after a couple months we ended up dating and I was like “great, I’m fixed and I don’t have to think about this anymore” and it was fine! like we’re both autistic and he had a really delayed sexuality too due to fucked up shit happening to him as a kid and teenager so we didn’t talk about anything sexual for the first year and a half or so? we were just close friends who would sometimes think about handholding or hugging and it was nice. and then like a while into it I started having sexual urges and it took a while for him to catch up in which I just felt like such a pervert all the time, like my sexual urges were immoral and I was forcing myself on him by having those thoughts. eventually he did catch up with me and it was nice and we’d have sexual conversations and stuff. we’ve never sent any sorta photos to each other though like I’ve never even seen him shirtless and I don’t think I’d want to see any part of him naked in a photo, it feels very wrong. like I’m hoping and guessing it’d be fine in person but it feels really weird online. I’ve never met him in person so I’m just guessing there but yeah.

but anyway about a year ago I started thinking about everything again and I realised that if what I saw as attraction to men within me was indeed attraction to men (which I’m sure it is), then I also have the same level of attraction towards women. now I do need to say that on both sides this is very limited. I’m peak “demisexual” type if I believed in that nonsense, ya know? I’ve either not got enough of a libido or my libido is too fucked to really look at a person and go “they are sexually attractive” so I have a hard time recognising it. so I see people go “you gotta want to eat pussy to be a ssa woman” and that makes perfect sense but I don’t *know* if it fits me?? like it’s so fucked in my head and I’m scared I’m actually just pornsick and objectifying women because of that rather than experiencing a genuine sexual attraction to them. but I also don’t know where objectification ends and sexual attraction starts and if there’s overlap and if I’m capable of having both perhaps??? like I’m sorta scared to approach it and thinking about it makes me feel predatory and homophobic somehow. I have dreams sometimes where I’m eating pussy and I never knew what to make of that, like if they were pornsickness or something. and I was using the “I’m objectifying women” excuse for a while and I thought “well it’ll lessen if I went cold turkey on the porn and looked at more imagery of women as natural human beings instead” but that’s actually just made it stronger. like I can now differentiate a type in my head and I react more strongly to seeing a naked or lightly clothed woman or even just a normally clothed one too.

and its made me think about shit that happened in school to me like this one female friend of mine who looking back I probably had a crush on but somehow didn’t realise it was a crush?? like I was making amvs on flipnote about her and me to love songs and our thighs touched once while we were sat at a desk together and I genuinely couldn’t stop thinking about it and I still remember it now and I was probably so much less subtle than I realised about leaning my leg into it and oh godddddd

and this is absolutely tmi (but this whole entire post is so) but I tried masturbating last night to just a thought about two female characters of mine making out, touching each others bodies and fingering/rubbing and I successfully got wet and came in less time than it takes me when looking at the fucked up porn and I genuinely felt nice afterwards instead of guilty and uncomfortable. and I’ve never been able to do that while thinking of a male and female character having sex, even when it’s been picturing it as nice and loving and mutual. so like, I guess I am sexually attracted to women even though that still feels wrong and weird to say? and I don’t know maybe that’s still objectification somehow.

I think my strongest guess right now is that I am bisexual but my m+f side of my sexuality is all broken and twisted from all the weird fuckin porn I looked at for years, while my f+f side is more sheltered because f+f porn on the sites I go on are still very male-centric, it’s all drawn by dudes, and I just avoided those thoughts for a long time. and just like, some internalised issues somewhere down the line, though I dunno where those would come from bc my family’s never been openly homophobic or anything, my parents are pretty casual about that sorta stuff and my friend group in school was mostly girls who dated each other, funnily enough

I dunno, rambling. none of it matters anyhow bc I’m probably never dating again if the boyfriend thing falls through, I’m too autistic for it. 

[shatterflowerdemon]

I found

Words: 1,517

Reader & UT Sans & UT Paps & Error & Ink & Gaster

Notes:

This came to me as I was cleaning. Please note that I am not very familiar with Error and Ink. I just see pretty designs and write. I haven't abandoned my other reader inserts, but the big wheel in my brain has been landing on 'oneshot' for days. I also post on mobile so I can't chop this.

"Oh fuck. Am I dead? I knew I shouldn't have had that pasta!" Everything that surrounds you is white. "Holy shit? Did I make it to heaven? Unexpected."

"Ahem."

You scream and jerk, managing to scuttle back where you rest on the...floor? It's hard to tell in all this one shade of white. Then you look up. "Oh my fucking god, I am in heaven!" you yell before slapping yourself on the mouth. A skeleton that looks a lot like Ink- from that one AU on Tumblr- looks at you like you've grown a second head.

"Right, okay, back you go," he says, bringing his paintbrush down as if to strike you.

"What the fuck?" you roll out of the way. "Uh, watch where you point that thing!" He sighs and twirls it in this direction.

"Don't make this difficult."

You decide that you would prefer to, not liking the idea of the easy route. Hitting your elbow on the floor hurt. Isn't heaven supposed to be fun and painless? You can feel your heart thumping from adrenaline, too. Regardless of whether or not you're having a fever dream, you are very alive.

Ink attempts to slather or catch you in what looks like his namesake. You scramble and dodge, but the routine is tiring you out quickly. Then, right as you're cornered (in an invisible corner, of fucking course,) a hole opens.

"Dude, you left your- Uh." Error looks between you and Ink, clearly not understanding. "Scarf..."

Ink swings his paintbrush (Broom? Roomie? You forgot) down to rest at his side. "Oh, thanks! I didn't even notice. Just lay it somewhere. Gotta fix this first." You avoid another splatter, feeling like you're on the other end of mickey in that one Wii game with the paintbrush.

"Why's it so empty?" Error asks, glancing around.

"Just did a mass wipe. Decided a fresh canvas was in order."

"Oh. Okay."

You groan, dodging another splatter. "Why the fuck am I even in the doodle sphere?!"

Ink frowns. Error whistles, low and long. "Wow, you accidentally drug a creator here?"

"Shut up." Ink shoots again but misses widely.

Error snickers. "Let me handle this, squid." You watch his hands raise and remember what Error does for a living.

"Fuck no!" You scream, flailing and losing your balance. One minute, you're standing in a white room, and the next, you're nowhere.

It feels like you're falling for eternity. Darkness swims in your vision, making your brain try to fill in the gaps by tricking you with false images. If you scream, you sure can't hear it. Numbness creeps in.

A white oval emerges. Then it stays. Its not a false image? A form takes shape as if your eyes had to adjust. Half circle eyes, two cracks, and a thin smile. The body of spilled ink.

"Gaster." He makes a series of strange noises. Wingdings? "I'm sorry, I can't understand. I- I'm in the void, aren't I?" He nods, and two ghostly hands form before your very eyes. He holds them out to you. "Do you know the way out of here?" Another nod. You take his hands. His figure appears as if it's dissolving, then when you look down, you look the same, like a ghost. The hot iron of fear strikes you. "Wai-"

Your sound is cut out. Once again, for the umpteenth time today, your mind blanks out. An uncomfortable trend.

The first thing you register is cold. It's on your back, arms, head, everywhere. The next is something wet. You groan and shift. Why can't you be left to sleep in peace? WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE. You sit up quickly, disturbing the snow that had been blanketing you before. Something white and fluffy yelps. Your vision clears. Oh! It's a dog.

"Hey there, little guy. Thanks for the wake-up call." The dog barks cutely. You pet it, encouraged by the furious wagging of its tail.

A figure emerges in the distance, but it's hard to see through the snowfall. Whoever they are, they must be tall. Maybe someone on a rescue team? That'd explain the dog. You must have been drugged or passed out somewhere. It couldn't have been a long time since you're still alive in this weather. All your limbs have circulation, and you can't smell rotting flesh.

"DOG! UGH, I KNEW THE RED LEASH WAS SUPERIOR!" An odd sentence for someone on a rescue team, but you let it slide. Any help is better than no help. "OH. A HUMAN." Well, what else would you be? A bear?

"Hello? Do you know where this is? I think I hit my head or something." That would explain the hallucination.

"OH NO! A HURT HUMAN!"

It's like your heart stops and speeds up all at once. Papyrus is tall and a little foreboding at this angle. His scarf flaps in the wind that is currently picking up. He makes quick work of helping you up. The dog stays close by, tail wagging furiously.

"THIS IS NO SORT OF WEATHER FOR A HURT HUMAN! I'LL TAKE YOU HOME AND FEED YOU. MY SPAGHETTI IS WORLD-CLASS."

There's no other option than to agree. If this is a hallucination, you won't fight it. Maybe you're lucid dreaming? Intense focus does nothing to change your situation. Not a lucid dream, then. Papyrus carries you and the dog through the storm, who happily snuggles close to you. At least Papyrus blocks the wind blowing towards the two of you. He chatters the entire way to his house. Instead of the familiar house you were expecting, he brings you to a different one. It's a large log cabin with no porch. It looks like they bought more string lights.

"REST HERE, AND I'LL MAKE YOU SOME WARM FOOD." Papyrus sets you down on a kitchen chair, swiping a quilt and tossing it over you. The dog (presumably annoying dog) settles on your lap as if he owns it. You say nothing. Papyrus returns with a plate of steaming spaghetti and water. "I MUST APOLOGIZE. THE FOOD IS REHEATED SINCE I DIDN'T EXPECT YOU. PLEASE DO NOT MAKE IT A HABIT TO NAP IN SNOW POFFS." The spaghetti is great.

"Thank you, this is great. Uhm, weird question, but where are we?"

"MY HOUSE, OF COURSE!" he replies with a warm smile.

"I think they meant geographic location, paps."

And as if Tumblr hadn't already whooped your ass, here arrives Sans Undertale. Where's a dramatic cue of Megalovania à la trumpet when you need it? Honestly, the very last skeleton you wanted to see. It's like your Sans phase is coming to haunt you. Maybe today is just 'the attack of 2010's fandom.' The switch port could not have possibly done less to prepare you for this.

"Uhm, hi," you say. Sans plops himself down across from you at the kitchen table.

"hey. what's up?"

You make an awkward face. "I have no idea where I'm at or how I got here."

Sans takes it all in stride, pulling up your location on google maps and letting you take it all in. It's a country you've never heard of in your life. You rub your hands over your face and feel like crying. Papyrus, out of the goodness of his heart, offers you their couch for the night.

"hey, paps, why don't you get the human some bed stuff?"

"GASP. YOU'RE RIGHT, BROTHER." Aaaaand Papyrus is gone, taking the stairs two at a time.

"so, I couldn't help but notice you had a lot on your mind. penny for your thoughts?" He holds up said coinage, and it earns him a chuckle from you. Sans laughs himself and sets it on the coffee table.

"I promise I'm not insane, but I'm not from here, and I have no memory of this country. At all." Sans' expression betrays nothing. He closes an eye socket.

"eeh, figured that was the case." He sees your startled expression and shrugs. "I'm good at reading people. what do ya remember?" You close your eyes. The memories roll through, starting with a field of white.

"Black. A lot of it. Something...white?" You gasp, and the name flies between your lips before you can stop it. "Gaster."

Sans jerks, and your eyes fly open. He stares at you like he's seen a ghost. Sweat rolls down his skull. "how-" You can feel the frustration from your day boil over, forming tears that roll down your cheeks in thick globs. You sob into your hands, trying to hide it.

"there there," Sans says, patting you on the back. You finish crying quicker than you expected.

"Sorry. It's been a day." Sans nods and drops his hand. It lays limply at his side. "Guess I gotta fess up now. There's no easy way to say this, but I think you of anyone in this universe would understand." Sans watches with bated breath, apprehension bleeding through his sole eye light.

"I'm not from this universe."

"sheesh. and here I was thinking you were a mage or something. what a relief."

[mypimpademia]

Can I request a hc for taking fatgum to a black cook out ( and would you mind that I added you to my black tumblr writer list?)

Taishiro (fatgum) x black!reader

TW: Swearing

Key: Y/u = Your uncle;

Note: Not at all :) id be happy to let other ppl find an acc for poc

For Taishiro meeting your family for the first time, they decided to have a cook out

Hes excited 1. Because he can meet your family and 2. There's food

But hes also really scared cuz he doesn't want to make a bad impression

By the time you get there, Tai is so nervous

And its really unlike him to be so not-confident, so you know he really wants to make a good impression

"But what if they don't like me?"

"Tai, they're gonna like you. Shit, they already like you based on the things I say and they aint even met you."

That makes him feel a lot better

When you get there, you're immediately greeted with hugs and distant hellos from people that can't leave where their standing

"Hey, is that Y/n? Get over here girl."

You went over to your uncle who was on the grill, still hand-in-hand with Taishiro

"Hi Uncle Y/u."

"Is this the big man Tai?"

Your uncle gave Taishiro a hand shake and a hug

"I heard you like to eat. Some of the food got done cookin before yall came, why dont you fix him a plate Y/n?"

At the table full of food, there were collared greens, mac and cheese, chicken, steak, etc.

Tai got almost all of it

Taishiro + soul food is otp

Manz eats that shit UP

Luckily, he was wearing his more baggy clothes (which is probably most of his closest because he tends to eat a lot in general)

So when his quirk started setting in, he easily filled up his clothes

Once he reached as much as he could take, yall had an 8 ft tall fat man in your backyard

Just so he could get back to his normal size, he allowed all the little kids to use his stomach as a trampoline

Also let whoever was willing use him as a punching bag

"Come on, you gotta be feelin somethin, bruh."

"Nope, feels like ya flickin my stomach."

When he finally got back down to his normal size, he socialized more with your family, and you could tell he was much more relaxed

Your parents especially took a liking to him

They liked how he had such positive vibes, he was educated on black culture, and he was really good for you

Man is an all in one package

I know he knows ho to cook, so he probably helps out on the grill at some point

All your lil cousins and the other kids love him

Since he's 6'4 (?? Something like that ik he's above 6'2 but I think he's around 6'4 - 6'6) they're all climbing him like he's some sort of tower

Once it gets late and yall the kids are inside, he probably stays outside for a few drinks to keep talking with your uncles, cousins, and dad

Tai is basically family after that because it went so well

But he still gets nervous a few more times when he goes over

But you just gotta let him know that they all love him

[immortalcoelacanth]

PTA: Science Team (HLVRAI Fic 1/3)

*pulls dusty story out of garage and drops it into Tumblr*

I have been trying to finish the first chapter for AGES, and I finally got it done! I crave PTA AU content due to the wholesomeness and angst, and I just had to work on one short fic for this fandom. So, welcome to the first chapter out of three!

Word count: 1788

Summary: PTA meetings are a sham and no one hates them more than Gordon, but upon being forced to miss a “mandatory” meeting because of work, Benrey comes up with a brilliant idea to deal with this problem.

Chapter 1: Hostile Arrangements Require Equally Hostile Solutions

“Fuck! Shit! Okay-okay, I’ll just-motherfucker she did what?!”

Cursing was in Gordon’s nature. He often used it as a way to express his angry, dismay, shock, and all sorts of other negative emotions. As such it was not unusual to see pacing about and spitting insults left and right. 

What was unusual, however, was the fact that he was cursing in his own home. He had a strict swearing free zone in effect as a way to stop Joshua from picking up on any foul language, including a swear jar that tended to fill up whenever Bubby visited. It was quite fortunate that Joshua was currently being distracted by Benrey as the pair had been playing video games together for the past hour or so. 

Or they had been until, in a surprising display of stealth, Benrey crept out of the young boy’s room and slowly approached the frustrated Gordon. 

Gordon, who was currently continuing to quietly yell into his cell phone. 

“Are you kidding me?! I was scheduled for a meeting on the weekend! I have work tonight! How in the FUCK did she-”

“psssst, hey, hey feetman. you might wanna chill out there and, uh, stuff. turn down the volume.” Benrey cut in while pointing the tv remote at Gordon and clicking the volume button. “don’t wanna be a bad boy and teach joshie any naughty words.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Gordon sighed, no real anger in his voice before redirecting his attention back to the phone call. “No, not you Natasha, it was just Benrey-”

“tell tasha her cookies are baller.”

“Wha-baller? Who the fuck says baller anymore?!” 

“c’moooooooon man, be a bro.”

“Natasha I am so sorry-tell her that yourself!”

“i can’t feeman, you know i don’t have a phone.”

“YOU WERE THE ONE WHO STUCK IT IN THE MICROWAVE!”

“i-i was just chagrin’ the battery with those radio waves, man. ads… they never lie.”

Laughter could be heard coming from the phone in response to the conversation going on between the two men. It was enough to snap Gordon out of his somewhat enraged state and refocus on whatever it was that Natasha was telling him. He gestured for Benrey to leave and only succeeded in shooing the ex-guard to the kitchen so he could have some peace. 

Not that the peace lasted long based on the muttered cursing and general sounds of Gordon stomping around. 

About ten minutes later, the frustrated physicist joined him in the kitchen, quickly making himself a cup of coffee and grumbling under his breath. Welp, looked like this was the perfect moment for some interrogation. 

“soooooo, wha was that about?” Benrey asked as he took another bite of the block of cheese he had been digging into. If you asked him, he’d say it tasted pretty gouda.

Damn, he needed to torment Gordon with more puns again. 

“Fucking-” Gordon exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his messy hair, too angry to noticed how Benrey reached out and gently pulled at some of the locks, watching them bounce and resume their previously curly shape. “Linda.”

Well, there went his good mood. 

Benrey’s eyes immediately narrowed, becoming nothing more than glowing slits in his shadowy face, as a disgruntled frown replaced his previous smile. Even the cheese in his hand seemed to start burning, smoke wafting off it as it began to melt in response to the sheer anger that name invoked in him. 

Linda Smith, the scourge of the neighborhood and one of the most uptight, pieces of shit that Benrey had ever encountered. A narcissist with a massive superiority complex, she constantly put down everyone around her who she thought of as being inferior.

Which was just a cover for how much of a racist shitwad she was, plus there were the various comments she made about fags invading the neighborhood.

An obvious insult aimed at not just Gordon and Benrey, but the other “not normal” couples that lived here and there. Poor Joshua had overheard some of the insults on multiple occasions, and she had called the kid a mutt to his face-

“Benrey? You wanna calm down before you poke holes in the ceiling again?”

Fortunately, Gordon’s exasperated voice snapped Benrey out of his enraged state before he accidentally inflicted more damage to the kitchen. A place that had seen many, many small explosions and fires. At this point, he towered over the other man as sharpened, boney spikes poked out of his back and scrapped the ceiling. Plaster fell and dusted the countertop. 

“oops, s-sorry dude.” Benrey awkwardly shrugged, flesh dripping from his arms and face in a rather gruesome display, not that Gordon was bothered by this. He was used to how… horrific his partner could become. 

Especially when someone mentioned Joshua being hurt or insulted in any way. It was actually quite wholesome thinking about how much Benrey cared about the young boy and how much their friendship had bloomed since they first met. 

“I get it.” Gordon sighed. “She’s such a bitch she’d make anyone Hulk out.”

“ten points for the ref there, feetman.”

The physicist somewhat seriously flipped Benrey off, making him laugh, before continuing to rant about the purpose of the now finished phone call. 

“I still can’t believe that stupid school listened to her, and I’m not the only one getting fucked over here!” He spat. “I can’t just drop out-”

It was at this moment that the source of Gordon’s rage dawned on Benrey, and the ex-guard spoke up. “wait, the school thingy?”

“You mean meeting?”

“ya.”

Gordon groaned and hid his face in his hands. “The MEETING! Linda fucked up my schedule! I don’t know what she said to the administrator, but they canceled the weekend meeting I was booked for and rescheduled me for tonight. When I have WORK!”

Benrey winced in sympathy and reached out to pat Gordon’s shoulder with his not cheese coated hand. “damn, th-that’s a real cringe move. can’t you get, uh, joshie’s mom to take care of it? s...shea?”

“I can’t,” Gordon muttered, face muffled by his hands. “Shea’s been on a business trip for some conference and she gets back in five days.”

“oooooh, that’s why you’ve had little josh bro for so long?”

Rather than respond, the physicist just continued to groan and hide his face in his hands as he tried to figure out how to fix the mess he had been caught up in. 

Joshua’s school had a very… specific structure to how it was run. Standard funding and where it would be directed was determined by the staff, however, sometimes the school would receive donations or raise large amounts of money through fairs and other events. 

And it was how this extra funding would be spent that the local community had the chance to weigh in on. Determining if it should be used to get more sports supplies, help fund after school programs, or be used to help make the school more accessible. 

The ramp that had been added two years ago was one such example of the potential good that these extra funds had, however there was one problem with this process. 

All parents were required to attend a meeting and voice their thoughts. This was a rather new development that had been added after a small group of disgruntled parents, ones who had objected to using the extra funds to improve the school and arguing that it should go towards planning fun trips instead, had tried to sue the school board. 

Of course, the case had immediately been thrown out and dismissed, but it had set a dangerous precedent. A precedent that now made it mandatory for all parents to attend one meeting to determine their opinions on where the funding should be used and write it down so they could not claim their voices had not been heard. 

Honestly, it was such a stupid arrangement in Gordon’s opinion. Why not just send out an email? Or forms that kids could take home to their parents. It was so… disruptive and annoying, especially for single parents who had to work long hours. 

Like him. 

His hands tensed, nails nearly dug into his skin before Benrey carefully moved them, holding them. As Gordon looked up, the ex-guard sent him an awkward yet warm smile. An attempt at reassuring him that things would turn out alright. 

“hey... you-you gotta chillax feetman, things’ll be okay-”

“How the hell am I supposed to chillax in this situation?!” Gordon barked as he removed his hands from Benrey’s, shoved himself out of his seat, and began pacing around, furiously staring at the floor. 

“I’ve been fucked over by some racist bitch! Joshua needs someone there and it has to be someone who has some kind of guardianship over him for that stupid funding bullshit!”

As his partner raged on about the unfairness and overall stupidity of the situation, Benrey decided that it was time to think. To think, and plot, and come up with something that would hopefully calm Gordon down while solving the problem that Linda had caused. 

Simply put, Joshua needed someone who had designated guardianship over him to be present during the meeting to act in his best interests. Not surprisingly, Benrey did not have this title due as both he and Gordon had agreed that it would not be the best idea due to both his inhumane nature and the potential destruction he might cause. 

But, that did not mean that only Shea and Gordon were listed as the young boy’s guardians. There was one other who had been granted the title in case of an emergency, although his presence had never been needed up until this point, which was probably why Gordon had forgotten about him in his stressed out state. 

Dr. Coomer, one of Joshua’s “grandpas”. 

And, of course, if one member of the Science Team went somewhere, then the rest had to follow. The Science Team stuck together through thick and thin, no matter the strife or struggle and always left chaos in their wake. 

Hostile arrangements required equally hostile solutions, after all. 

“this is gonna be baller.” Benrey chuckled, his eyes flashing brightly at the brilliance of his plan. Now all he had to do was get Gordon to agree to it.

“pssst, yo, xen to gaydon.”

There was something about the tone that Benrey’s voice took on that snapped Gordon out of his ranting. How calm and collected he sounded, the coherency and confidence in his words. Somewhat concerned, the physicist turned around and saw the scheming look in the ex-guard’s glowing eyes as his fingers drummed on the table. 

“feetman, i got a plan.”

                                             xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I would like to make it clear that no offense is intended towards anyone named Linda, aside from the one racist Linda I know that she was named after who will never, ever read this so my sins will forever remain unknown :>

[violexides]

okay, here is the hot take i will delete in five minutes.

... 

If you genuinely believe that “trans representation”, “LGBTQ+ representation”, or any kind of representation at all actually, can only be done with softening characters and making them all uwu babies to play around with for your entertainment, instead of allowing them to be, I don’t know, actual people, I think the next step would be to consider what representation actually means, and why so many people seem to find it necessary to make every lesbian soft and a ‘baby’; every gay male petite and anxious; every trans women sweet but secretly deceiving (do not get me started on how much trans women get fucked over); every nonbinary individual completely androgynous, the list goes on.

If this is the only fucking representation we can get (speaking as a demigirl polyamorous pansexual here), then what’s the fucking point. I don’t want to read another goddamn story about a WLW couple where one of them is happy-go-lucky, with no personality, and (SECRETELY TRANS. GEND. ER. but don’t tell anyone omg we gotta save it for the PLOT TWIST <333 Ha. Ha. As if being trans is your sensationalization plot twist. As if trans people are just mythological people. Hey, I wonder why it was so hard for me to come out to people? Hm. Must be unrelated. /s) and the other has no other personality trait other than “I have clinical anxiety and depression and do I have any other characteristics no thanks for asking”. Do you think that makes me proud as a person attracted to women? Fuck no.

Show me a goddamn WLW relationship where shit doesn’t work out. Show me a goddamn female character that can actually be abrasive.

Hi. This isn’t fucking Narnia. I’m Sunflower, I use she/they pronouns, I want to date multiple people of any gender, albeit a lean towards females, and if you expect me to keep fucking identifying with these caricatures, please re-evaluate what your representation means. 

Perhaps I want to date a girl. Perhaps I am mentally ill. Perhaps I am soft spoken in real life.

I will not read another fucking story about this person-- with no fucking personality, mind you-- who manages to get all her problems fixed just by being this unrealistic sweetheart-- and don’t mind all the bullshit they do they don’t take accountability for! 

You want a genuine fucking story where an LGBTQ+ character takes responsibility for their actions? Go fuck yourself. You must be looking for the wrong representation. Hey, maybe tumblr user fieldsofsunflowers8 isn’t really LGBTQ+ after all! Let’s all go kill her, I hear she lives on [REDACTED] street. 

Maybe in the finale we can finally figure out what’s in her pants. 

That’s all. I’m fucking tired. This is longer than I thought. I’m probably about to get blocked over a couple of typoes. I don’t fucking care.

Back to writing my fanfic where a mentally ill lesbian does shitty things and doesn’t immediately get absolved from guilt. See ya.

Edit one: I have no qualms with a character being nice, for the record. That’s cool. Surprisingly, I know people who are nice. I also know people who aren’t absolute sweethearts either. Both are complex pools of people. And I like those people all the same. Also, no problems with people writing stories where a character is mentally ill. From my personal standpoint, I think it’s unrealistic to make a character’s mental illness some kind of brownie point for “oh look at how sweet they are”. I don’t speak for everyone. But, for an example here. Anxiety isn’t pretty. Anxiety doesn’t make me soft. Anxiety has never, ever, ever made me a kinder person. Make that what you will.