#you use to follow me then I remade
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mellotronmkll · 1 year ago
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mako-island-moon-pool · 6 months ago
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Personally of the belief that live action fans who go onto animanga posts uninvited like 'I DESPERATELY NEED YOU TO KNOW THAT I THINK THE ART STYLE IS UGLY EVEN THO THIS OPINION IS IRRELEVANT TO THE POST' should be hit with a big rock. We already moved past this ten years ago, get with it or get lost. Swallow the hunger inside of you that demands everything be palatable to you. Maybe you could stand to be a little uncomfortable for a while
#Keep ur trashy comments to yourself#It's not even ugly! It's just not the conventional anime style so you deem it ugly. That's so fucking sad of you#You're the type of person who sees a piece of art and is like OMG WERE THEY ON DRUGS?!?!?!?!?!#Idk I think the art style is very fitting for the gigantic world Oda has built#People are allowed to be ''ugly'' because not all of us were born to be models. Shock and horror I know#(this is NOT aimed at the ppl who critque the way Oda draws women (to a degree...) bc I agree he could've done the same for women as he doe#The men by giving them way more diverse features and body shapes)#No this is aimed at the ppl who think the style as a whole is ugly and demean it bc it doesn't suit their tastes#Meanwhile their taste is the most conventional cookie cutter bland pretty boy/girl bullshit out there#(I say to a degree up there bc I think ppl go way too far with the criticisms like the one person who posted the Charlotte family identical#Sisters and went LOOK HOW SIMILAR THESE WOMEN ARE ODA SUCKS when they were MEANT to look similar)#^ yes that is an actual post I saw in like 2018 or 2019 when WCI was reaching its end in the anime and it made me die laughing#There are dozens of other examples you could've given but no. You intentionally chose the triplets (quintuplets? It's been a hot minute)#Rebecca and Nami and Vivi and Shirahoshi all having the exact same face with different hair? No I will use the identical twins as proof#What a unique way to undermine your own argument bc I was with you up until that#Anyway yeah the more I think abt the more I think the live action sucks actually for getting rid of Sanji's eyebrows bc they'd 'look bad'#Who cares? It's part of his design. You are cutting off parts of his character. Same w/ Usopp's nose.#Who fucking cares if it would have looked 'bad' or 'ugly'? Is that all you guys really care about? Keeping up appearances???#I'm so sick of the shit I like getting 'remade' to appeal to people who will never actually appreciate why stuff looks the way it does#It's so shallow I hate it#<- yes I'm still bitter about what they did to my boy WW in the three guns reboot iykyk#And Livio and Razlo for that matter. What the FUCK was that about#Idk maybe it's cuz it's something I recognized in myself and attempted to squash so it's frustrating seeing other ppl do it#And again obvs Oda isn't perfect w/ this either as he draws evil women as fat old hags and his protags as skinny and beautiful#Or how he thinks not following ur dreams will make u ugly and fat and following ur dreams will make u conventionally attractive#I get it. Storytelling method. But u can do better. Use colorschemes instead of physical attributes or something like Veneer does
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aftertheglitterfades · 1 year ago
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One of my biggest regrets is not joining Swiftie tumblr years ago.
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chococolte · 7 months ago
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Your sagau zhongli is my fave! Devotion is soooo good he's so good!! If he were offered a reward, what would he ask for? He definitely deserves good things for being such a dedicated worshipper
word count. 1.6k
୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, sagau + cult au shit, religious themes, g/n reader.
୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. hi guys......... sorry i took so long to write this, and im so happy you like my characterization of him!!!! it means so much to me!!!
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Your praise.
Zhongli has rarely ever wanted. 
When he was young, still arrogant and born of war, Zhongli didn't want— he took. He had no need of envy or desire. What he could not have, he would get in time. Immortality comes with an infinite patience. 
If he was still that god, flippant and self-important, maybe he would demand some sort of compensation. Some sort of recompense for past agony.
For as long as Zhongli's lived, he has never wanted; not in the way a mortal yearns for their lover, or the way a dog longs for its owner until it whines. Never in any way that mattered, never before he met you.
Zhongli has had eons to become used to the loneliness that so often encompasses him. And now, knowing that you breathe the same air as him, he's become rather acquainted with the ever consuming desire to nestle close to you, like ink caressing every pore of canvas. 
His desire runs through him— barking and loud, rapid and frantic— but when faced with you, a whisper, whimpering in the dark crevices of his ribs. At times, he comes close to asking you to hold him, but decorum and propriety keep him in place, tight and tense.
Liyue was built knowing your gaze followed him. Its foundations set, earth molded, and its rivers bent, hoping they would be fit to your liking. His every breath spent chasing after your favor, desiring to be remade in your image, to be exactly what you want him to be. Afraid that, when finally met with you, you will not like what you see.
Zhongli has rarely ever wanted, and rarer still, has he ever feared.
It's a mortal's fear. The fear of their lord displeased with their harvest. A boyish fear, made up of desperation and the fear of disapproval; one he shouldn't feel, one he should feel no familiarity with. One he suspects many have felt when within his own presence.
When you ask him what he would like in return for all of his efforts— a reward, you say— Zhongli feels his breath seized from him.
Zhongli lived much of his early life against you. At every opportunity, he rebelled at what he thought was a cruel god. Imperious and charged with Guizhong’s death, he would have demanded answers. 
For him to have lived while those he cared for perished without a moment's repose, for him to have survived every moment of cruel war when each breath was like a whip against his lungs— he deserved to know, if you were as real as Guizhong so staunchly believed, why he had lived in her place.
Yet, despite centuries of tempered rage, Zhongli has become content to live as nothing more than your servant. 
He tells you he wants for nothing. That all he desires now is the simplicity of being beside you; the escape of your laughter, where there's no need to concern himself with anything other than you. He tells you he only wishes to know how to take care of you better, how to align himself with your tastes and desires.
"I insist," you say, and Zhongli realizes it's a command. His mouth turns dry, and every word settles on his tongue like heavy weights, dead and still.
You stare, and his breath hitches, his heart a swell in his chest. Zhongli thinks of every answer, how your reaction to any could either breathe life into him, or leave him broken. How, for a moment, he amuses himself with the idea of asking for your touch— the cusp of your palm on his cheek, your fingers against his spine; how he could ask, and how you might favor him enough to do so. 
He then thinks of asking you for reassurance. For affirmation of forgiveness for the actions in his youth. To finally have the certainty that he hasn’t failed you, and maybe, the confirmation that you may care for him.
“Forgive me for my impropriety, Your Grace,” Zhongli begins, voice light and breathy. His hand rests on his chest, fighting the urge to dig into his skin, hoping to calm the pounding of his heart. “But… if I may, I was wondering if I had done right by you?”
You sit inertly in silence for a moment, and Zhongli wonders if it’s on purpose, some sort of punishment for daring to ask such a thing. You had no reason to reward him, and he had been blessed enough to hold your attention for longer than a moment. He had no right to ask for your thoughts, not so directly.
He thought he knew that. It was why he followed you, why he made sure your every request was completed to the highest standard. If you mentioned the taste of your tea being too bitter, or sweet, or that you’d rather he prepare something else for you entirely, he would rush to follow your word. Even if he had been the one to brew it, even if it was him who cultivated the leaves, even if he thought it would be to your liking.
All he needed was to be helpful. All he needed was you. Within you, was his salvation— within you, was love itself. Without you, the once great Lord of Geo was but a fragmented elemental wisp of energy, only ever calling your name.
A spike of adrenaline rushes through him, fear and anxiety denying any sense of hope. All he hears is the solitary sound of his heart in his ears. 
“You have only ever done good by me.”
Zhongli’s heart lurches, heat rippling through his body. You say it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and his mind feels dizzy at the implication. The ground sways, and his feet feel light. 
“You deserve more than that, I think.” You step forward, and Zhongli is so lost within his own thoughts, he takes no notice of your sudden increase in proximity— but his breath still quickens, and red still coats the apples of his cheeks. 
“Kneel,” you whisper, and though you say it so softly, it's as though the sky had been torn asunder with the speed he responds. Zhongli’s mind still feels far away, but he hears your orders as if spoken directly into his ear.
He drops to his knees, no care for whether he does so elegantly enough. All he can focus on is the weight of your gaze, and the way he's the only thing under it.
“Do you want me to praise you?” You trace his jawline with your finger, still speaking in a soft, unhurried tone. “Do you want me to tell you how much of a good boy you are?”
Zhongli inhales sharply, fighting every thought that screams at him to eagerly lean into your hand. He stares up at you, russet lashes fluttering and amber eyes swallowed by adoration and worship. 
“Yes, Your Grace,” he whispers hoarsely. 
Your thumb swipes over his lower lip, and a whine rises to the back of his throat. 
“My good boy.” Zhongli’s entire body shudders, his chest heaving. A shaky breath escapes him. “You've been waiting to hear that for so long, haven't you?”
He whimpers, then nods in a way he hopes doesn’t come across as overeager— quickly bereft of any sense of propriety, or care for whether or not he’s making a fool of himself. All he can concern himself with is how close you are, how easily your scent renders him still, how quickly he borders on senseless. 
You smile at that, and he bites his tongue to stop himself from whimpering. 
“Do you want me to tell you how grateful I am?” Your fingers move across his neck, brushing against his Adam’s Apple, watching it bob as he gulps, trying to keep himself steady and not fall against you. “How you're my favorite?”
An ugly sound rips from Zhongli’s throat, and it's one he's instantly ashamed of. Every part of him feels bare in front of you, laid out messy and without decorum. The mask he’s worn for eons steadily breaks, and every one of his veins and bones scream out for your warmth. 
The Lord of Geo wouldn’t have ever allowed himself to be so vulnerable. He never would have amused himself with the thought of pleading for anything, or kneeling and falling apart because he was treated softly— least of all, of being so desperate to know that you love him; that you favor him. 
Zhongli, now without his Gnosis, is as mortal as the men he used to lord over. And perhaps it’s his newfound mortality that moves him to lean into your hand, frantically trying to meld your fingers against his skin until his flesh is like clay inlaid with your fingertips; hoping that you’ll rebuild him until he fits your desires, and tell him again that he’s proven to have done good by you. 
Every thought is a prayer, another hymn, another psalm.
“Am I? Your favorite?” 
His voice trembles, and breathes into a soft whisper. Zhongli doesn’t mean to sound so desperate— he doesn’t mean to be so greedy— but his soul has never felt so full before. His mind is so mired by your touch and voice that he doesn’t realize his lack of formality, or how he might come across as arrogant. 
He wants only to think of you, and so he does. Nothing else matters.
“Yes.” You chuckle, and his heart speeds up at the sound, fervent. “Why would I want anyone else?”
Zhongli whines, and faintly, through the blur of fanaticism and worship, thinks that no matter what you asked of him, he would do it without hesitation. 
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tojisun · 6 days ago
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https://www.tumblr.com/disgustinggf/766387162976518144?source=share
I want Simon to bully me like this.
OHH MY GOD WIFE YES ABSOLUTELY YESS
simon's so big too, pressing everything on you. in you.
the way simon's bulk shrouds your own ⁠– and you're not even small. petite has never been a word used on you but simon's built like a fucking tank, heavy and wide in all the right places⁠—
just like this, with his cock hammering into you in shorts bursts. all he could do is lay there, on you, humping in your cunt in blunt strokes. he followed your toppling, caging you in the warm press of his flesh until simon is all that you're feeling. all that you're hearing; breathless in his bloating euphoria, grunting in an animalistic heat.
it's not like you're faring any better; choking on your squeals, pussy fluttering because you swear that simon's fucked it raw. fucked it to the point that pain and pleasure have begun to explode in tandem, racing in a matching pace like you're being liquified.
unmade, then remade ⁠– there, on his cock, with all of him pressing on you.
words and colours stopped meaning anything to you as you lay there, carrying the brunt of simon's affections. his love, etched into your very pore as he fills you up with his cum once more; another load to cherish.
it's catastrophic.
it's something that has never been done to you before.
like this, simon's truly ruined you for everyone else.
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readychilledwine · 6 months ago
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Odd One Out pt 2
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Summary - After 500 years of friendship, the last thing you ever expected was the Inner Circle to miss one of your symphonies. But you know what they say, time changes people.
Warnings - 10 year time jump, groveling, Fluff, reader forgives Azriel, loosely edited (Liz will fix and check for mistakes she and her friend missed with fresh eyes 💕)
A/N - forgive the name picked for Kal and Vivienne's daughter. So many of you are playing with Disney princess themes I couldn't shake it.
Odd One Out pt 1
✨️ Azriel Masterlist ✨️ Master Masterlist ✨️
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Dawn was beautiful. In the past 10 years, as you had toured the Realm performing, you had realized that quickly. Every court always brought you back to Dawn. Every High Lord brought you back to Thesan. Thesan had allowed you to build home here, welcoming you and your talent with open arms, and tonight was a true testimony of his love for you and your music as he paid you a high honor.  
Thesan had spent the day hosting the quarterly High Lord's Meeting, and tonight, his gift of relaxation to the other High Lords was you, your orchestra, and a night of candle lit music, champagne, and food. 
You smoothed out the dress Thesan had commissioned for you tonight. An off the shoulder tulle number with long sleeves. It was soft and buttery, flowing with every step. The top hugged you perfectly, and two long slits sat on each leg, exposing them and the heels you were wearing. The fabric was a soft white color, a stark opposite to your conducting gowns in the Night Court. Jewels were sewn into the fabric, dripping down your body like you had been wrapped and bathed in starlight. The only sign of your home was that star-like glow and the earrings Azriel had bought you many years ago. The rough diamonds set in rose gold had backs that dropped on delicate chains with another diamond sitting at the bottom. “something delicate for my gentle girl,” he had whispered that sentence to you, letting it sink into your skin and mind. 
How odd it truly felt to compare that moment to when Azriel sat there in silence as Elain lashed out against all you had built, all your hard work, studying, you're very being. 
You took a deep breath, silencing your nerves as the theater went quiet. Dinner had been served, drinks flowing left and right, and now it was time. You watched as you musicians took their places, sitting and preparing themselves as well. Most had followed you from Night, and last you tragically heard, the Rainbow had grown silent in your absence. The new musicians ranged from every court, every walk of life. You smiled fondly at what you had remade, at their outfits so finely crafted of black fabric and silks. 
Thesan took the stage next, doing something Rhysand never had, “High Lords and Ladies, faithful emissaries, friends. After a long day of tense negotiations, words said in anger and frustration, and Rhysand's horrible father jokes,” a loud “hey” came from the audience making you laugh softly, “I could not think of a more enchanting way to end our night. A decade ago, a talented female came to me, offering to exchange a week of shelter and security for her playing music nightly for my court.” 
Thesan looked so softly towards you, “An offer many of you would go in to receive as well as she traveled our lands studying our music and history. Her talent had touched my fae and myself so deeply that when the time for her to make a home base came, I was honored when she approached me and built this theater to her exact wants and needs.”
He continued after a long breath, “Tonight is her first performance and opening night. I felt it would be wrong for anyone besides all of us to see her newest pieces first. Pieces inspired by every court, by all of our stories, of our fae’s stories. She wrote a collection of 7 songs, for us, about us.”
Silence refell over the room, a quiet appreciation for what they were about to see. “Without further ado, y/n.”
Clapping began as the faelights turned off, and candles took their place, glowing and reflecting off your gown. You bowed gracefully before turning and raising your hands as soon as Thesan took his seat. You began the concert in Tamlin's court, playing a piece inspired by his own love of music and the sounds of a spring storm. The music rose before a gentle fall where everything became more gentle as if it was quiet after a hard rain. You couldn't see as Briar took his hand at the swell, the soft moment where the violin went from the jig of a fiddle to the formality was a reflection of the moment Tamlin's dreams were lost to him, but new dreams began.
Summer was a symphony to the magic of bioluminescence. The sound was heavily inspired by the night of laughter and fun you had watched Varian and Amren enjoy. It had been the ancient female's first time seeing the ocean turn to waves of stars, and Varian had hired you to play for them that night. She cried as a familiar harp solo came, one that she had turned to Varian on one knee as you played it. 
Autumn was the sound of battle and passion. Eris's rise as high lord was captured in every note, every building drum. The high lord openly smiled during the peak. The moment where drums of war faded to the sounds of peace. The sound of peace after war was shown through a soft wood flute playing. An instrument that was born in Autumn's halls.
Winter had been the most unique to compose. Kallias and Vivienne's story was so well known, but their daughter, their darling Elsa, the 10 year old princess, was an unknown and protected factor. You took a deep breath before beginning this piece and looked to the white-haired girl, “For you,” you said softly to her bright grin. Elsa had written on sheet music for you during your stay there, lyrics to accompany the notes on your page, you held out your hand, welcoming your only singer for the night. The song was a desperate plea, a singer begging to be noticed for who she was, for her talent to be noticed before her beauty. You had picked the singer based on how young and fragile her voice sounded, the way it truly felt like a cry as she begged to be looked at for who she was. 
Dawn's turn came and the music felt like taking flight, it encompassed the thrill of the air, of an early morning sunrise adventure. The piece left you breathless due to the amount of movements it took. It was intricately layered and as lively as Thesan's court while maintaining an air of class. 
The Day Court was music of love and sex. Tender moments mixed with playful notes and chords that screamed sensuality. The tone was overall seduction, but moments of tenderness came through as well. It was a tribute to the biggest flirt you knew. The biggest flirt who became the most faithful husband. 
You were left with one court. You turned to begin your thank you and took a deep breath, “Over the past several years, you all have welcomed me into your courts and homes with open arms. You allowed me to study the music of your homes, your culture, and learn to play them to perfection. For that, I will always be grateful and so humbled by the generosity and kindness shown to me.”
You took a deep breath, stilling the last of your nerves. “My story begins in Night, though. My childhood began a long friendship between myself and someone who pushed me towards my dreams. This last song is dedicated to him.”
Azriel heard as Rhysand held his breath. He watched as his brother laced his fingers with Feyre. Feyre began to cry immediately. Of all the songs you composed, this one held the most strings, a clear call to Rhysand and your humble beginnings in the streets of the Rainbow playing. Azriel watched you in awe. 
You turned and a voice you had heard countless times played through magic. It was the moment they had met and a soft purr of, “There you are. I've been looking for you," echoed before the music began.
10 years, 10 years without even so much as a whisper or note. He watched you move with grace, watched as a violin sang softly. The tune was a call to the Inner Circle, and before Azriel could stop them, his shadows began to dance. 
Every movement of your arms and body was like watching liquid starlight sparkle and gleam to the fantasy inducing tune you had created. As your hands fell to indicate the end, Azriel felt his heart stopping. 
It was the bond that drew him to you. 
It was the years of friendship, of quiet nights listening to you play for just him, or long hours with you hands over his, so soft and warm, teaching him to play piano. 
It was the fact that he was in love with you. And he realized he had been for a very long time. 
Kind, talented, beautiful, you. 
He watched as you wiped a few quick tears as you and Rhysand held eye contact. He felt his breath hitch as you bowed during your queue before walking out. 
The orchestra played a familiar tune as everyone stood to leave and feyre began to cry. You had played this song during Feyre's first Starfall, hoping the romantic tune would have been enough to make the high lord and his mate kiss. It became a song they begged you to play every second they could. Rhysand held Feyre while looking at Azriel. 
“Get. Her. Back.”
You did not attend the after party. Seeing the Inner Circle had been too much. You had hoped that after all these years, that pain would be gone. You leaned against your balcony, humming a new tune you wanted to write. A shadow caressed your skin as you moved inside and sat at your harp. “I know you want me to play your song.” The shadow swirled and began to dance as you plucked the taunt strings. 
“You spoil them.” Your breath hitched at that familiar voice. “Don't stop,” Azriel sat down in the corner of the room. “They've missed dancing for you.”
You let out a shaking breath and began again, watching with a soft smile as the shadows weaved and played. The sight always memorized you. They always memorized you. These beautiful shadows were more like children than darkness. Each had a personality, a voice, a preference in instrument. You finished and lowered your hands.
“Elain is probably wondering where you are.”
Azriel rose a brow, “Elain and Lucien are on their honeymoon, sailing the world.” 
You knit your brows. “I'm sorry. I know you loved her.”
“Not the way I love you.” Silence fell over the room, “I have loved you for so long and been blind to it. I will never get back the time I wasted in my stupidity. I will never be able to take back the hurt Elain caused you.” 
You went to open your mouth and speak, “No. I want you just to listen to me, y/n.” You nodded and looked at him. “I love you,” he stated it like a finality. “The bond snapped for me the night you left, but in your absence, I have realized I loved you long before that blessing and that I would love you long after.”
He paused and continued, “I was silent when Elain spoke to you because I was in shock, but that isn't a good enough excuse. She hurt you, and I stayed silent. I will never forgive myself for that, so I do not expect you to. I'm not even worthy of asking you for a chance to make things right, but I am here as a desperate male. A male who wants nothing more than his mate, his love.”
“Azriel-” 
“Listen,” he moved to you, getting in his knees before you and taking you hands in his. He placed one on his face and smiled. “I dream of this gentle hands, of the joy they bring. I dream of you. Of your love and light. Your heart. When I sleep, I pretend I can hear your heart dancing for me, luring me like a siren spell.” 
Your bottom lip trembled and a tear fell, his love for you poured down that neglected bond, warming every inch of your being. “Azriel..” 
“Y/n, I am so sorry I wasted so much of your time, of our time.”
You threw your arms around him, holding him tight as he continued. “I beg you to allow me to try to make this right. To show you how special you are to me, to our home, to our family. I am begging you for just a chance.” 
His words left like a healing and soothing balm on unseen wounds. “Our family is at a party just below you. Waiting for me to either come back with you or to mourn the loss of you forever. Tell me what I am doing. If I have failed us.”
The party was in full swing as Rhysand watched Nyx and Feyre dance. He held his empty whiskey glass, debating on another one when perfectly manicured hands grabbed his empty glass and placed a full one in his grasp. He grabbed that soft hand instantly, “y/n darling.”
“Rhysand,” He turned and kissed your palm, violet eyes on yours. You continued the greeting softly. “Your presence makes my mind sing the most beautiful song.”
Rhysand held back tears as he answered, “And my heart longs to hear you play it.” He nuzzled your hand. “Come home to us.”
You sighed happily as Azriel rested his hand on your back, “I believe we can negotiate that." 
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General Taglist:
@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp
Odd One Out Taglist:
@gabbiskylar01 @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @blacktreacle22 @buttermilktea11 @heartless-tate @nerdy4itall @eep500 @tele86 @cleverzonkwombatsludge
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palms-upturned · 5 months ago
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Just adding on that Strawberry Seed Collective is another org that apparently has been doing outreach to verify fundraisers, I’ve been contacted by some ppl citing them as a verification source and they’ve compiled a list here of accounts that they’ve vetted
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Ok so i got this reply on this post talking about how palestinian bloggers are getting their accounts deleted and banned by tumblrs automated moderation system, and listen i have no interest in putting this person on blast cause i genuinely Dont think this sentiment is coming from a malicious place.
But i do want to talk about this nonetheless because i dont think you guys are realising that the people making these accounts and reaching out to us are doing so in english for OUR benefit, so that they can be understood by the english speaking majority on this site.
A lot of the people (not all but quite a few probably) are just not comfortable speaking in english!!! They may be using google translate to reach out to us and understand what we say back, and we all know how janky those translations tend to be. On top being completely unfamiliar with Tumblr's posting etiquette (which i do recall a lot of people were all taking pride in for being SO different from other sites not too long ago), there's a very obvious language barrier too.
Of course their posts will not be "natural sounding" enough for you.
And that's fine. Good on you for staying vigilant etc etc.
All I'm asking of you is to understand what you are asking of people when you demand that they "sound more natural" so that you can find them "convincing". You are demanding them to be fluent in language and culture they are not familiar with, when theyre already here at all because theyre in the middle of a genocide and just trying to survive.
So if you do get messages from palestinian people who want to spread their campaign and want to call yourself an ally, please dont immediately report them. There are places you can check to see if they are legit or not, there are palestinian bloggers who are working really hard to make sure any money you donate are going to people who actually need it instead of disgusting scammers who are trying profit off their misery.
Literally all you have to do is type their url into the search bar, and most likely you will find out if theyre a scam or not. If there arent any results you can just ask someone. Just dont outright dismiss thats all i ask.
This is the least effort you can put in from your side
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makuzume · 2 months ago
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Toge Accidentally Uses His Cursed Speech on You (Part 4)
🔅content: Light angst/light comfort; gn!reader; no pronoun mentions
🔅synopsis: It's been 2 days since you last seen Toge... How do you go about this? What are you supposed to do? You wonder how to address the situation at hand...
🔅a/n: "What happened to posting part 4 soon" I ended up scraping the entire part 4 draft and remade it because I didn't like it :'D Thank you everyone for being so patient and putting up w my bs aaa Let me know if you want to be in the tags list and enable ur tagging :3
[JJK Masterlist] [Part 1 & 2] [Part 3]
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🔅Word Count: 2.2K
"...Should I... open it...?" You asked yourself quietly, looking down on your phone as you stared at the multiple notifications you received from Toge.
13 missed calls
31 new messegaes
All unopened, all unanswered.
Slowly, you hover your finger over to his chat box, however, you hesitate- quickly shutting off your phone and plopping down on the soft mattress where you sat.
While the rest of the Okkotsu family went out to watch the movies, you decided to stay in the house by yourself. "You should come...! I'm sure it will help lift your spirits." Mrs. Okkotsu offered, to which you kindly declined her offer.
You figured you needed some time to be alone for now, but the lack of presence in the house ended up cauing a deafening silence to fill the halls, creating more opportunities for you to overthink the recent events between you and Toge.
'...I wonder... what did he say...'
'...why am I so scared to read it...?'
Over the past two days, you've been comfortably staying over Yuta's family home in the city. But since Yuta wasn't there at the moment, his parents and sister have been kindly accomodating you the entire time.
You were incredibly embarassed and reluctant to stay over, afraid of becoming only a nuisance to the Okkotsu family, especially since current situation between you and Toge was not at all very dire, just an arguement between two lovers.
Fortunately, Yuta and his mother were understanding and very insistent that you were welcome for as long as you'd like. Afterall, you were also one of Yuta's closest friends.
Trying your best to not cause them too much trouble, you help out with minor chores like the dishes, setting up the table, throwing out the trash- but each time you do so, you were met with gentle scolding.
"We told you to rest! You're still very hurt!"
"No no no, you're a guest, put that down!"
"We are not letting you wash the plates. Go back to bed and lie down for a nap! We'll bring you some snacks later."
"Nonsense! You are not a burden! You are a good friend of Yuta, and he asked us to take care of you, so sit down and don't worry about us."
Though that did seem to reduce the amount of guilt you felt, you were still rather embarassed for staying over someone else's family home just to hide from an ongoing dispute with Toge. So, you figured you shouldn't overstay your welcome, at least.
You look at your phone once again, staring at Toge's contact name as you remember your last encounter with him.
Staring at the ceiling above, you allow the memories from the incident flood your mind once more- remembering the sorrow, the pain, the sadness....
The entire time you knew Toge, he had always felt like the safest person to be around with, and you trusted him more than anyone- be it about your safety or your feelings. Naturally, the shock from accidentally getting cursed would shaken you up quite a lot.
You were badly hurt, both physically and emotionally.
And even for a short moment, you even felt afraid of him for the first time.
A feeling you knew would devastate him if he knew.
As shy as you were to admit it, all you did the entire day after the incident was quiety cry inside the guest bedroom in Yuta's home.
You can say that you rather had mixed feelings about the whole thing. Not a moment has passed in which you weren't thinking about it.
At first, it was shock, then fear, followed by pain before sadness, eventually leading to worry- the feeling you were experiencing right now.
Why 'worry'? You think to yourself, curious as to why there was this sense of longing to see him despite the accident.
It was a strange feeling in your chest. Most certainly, you were still very much upset and hurt about what he had done to you, but still-
"...I wonder how he must feel right now..." You hug the pillow nearest to you closer to your chest, unable to stray away the concern you felt for him.
Perhaps it was the way he looked at you the moment he misused his speech on you. The way Toge's eyes expressed so much shock, the way his voice was filled with so much guilt and fear... You have never seen him act in such a way before, especially considering the fact that he was always the more calm and composed one between the two of you.
You couldn't get the desperate tone of his voice out of your head, and you frequently find yourself vividly remembering the panicked expression he displayed on his face.
"...He must be worried..." You whisper to the pillow you held tightly, your eyelids closing as you replay the events of the accident.
More than anyone, you understood him the most, and you knew that this must be really messing up his mind right now.
It was one of his deepest fears, hurting someome he loves unintentionally with his speech, and you knew how deep this sort of wound would cut him on the inside.
More so, there was also the fact that Toge had personally witnessed the tragic events that happened to his allies in Shibuya... not to mention the fact that he had also been heavily pinning the blame on himself for the death of innocent civilians' lives.... lives which he felt responsible of protecting, all because he led them to take shelter to the same area Sukuna had unleashed his Malevolent Shrine.
'Truly...' you thought.
'this must be really messing up his mind right now....'
You turn over to your side, eyes staring blankly into the empty air in front of you.
"...He was distant and acting different from what happened in Shibuya afterall... I know he didn't mean to hurt me..." you whispered quietly, trying to think of how to address the situation.
You sat up, your hand firmly grasping your phone, a hesitant but concerned tone evident in your voice "I... don't want to make him feel any worse than he already does..."
Without a doubt, Toge was always so good to you. So protective, so understanding, so kind, so loving...
He was always there for you at your lowest points... and you never even had the chance to return such comfort to him before, so you think to yourself:
'...it's my turn.'
Your previous attempt to aid his sorrow didn't end up so well, but that's why you were willing to try again; To try again for him.
He probably hasn't been consoled ever since the incindent in Shibuya either. You, Panda, Yuta, or even Maki hadn't heard from him the entire time, and that's considering that all of you are his closest friends.
You ponder about it, and then you realize he probably wouldn't have ended up hurting you by accident or behaving so distant towards everyone if he had just allowed himself to be comforted- to be held and be told 'it's okay.'
...And you couldn't help but want to be that person who does that for him.
The more you thought about this, the more you wanted to see him.
You already released all the shock, hurt, and sadness for the past few days through a few weeping sessions in the small guest room before, and you think it's about time to come out of hiding.
You try to gain back your composure.
"...I wonder where he is... I hope... he's not pushing himself." You glance at your wallpaper, looking at a picture of Toge holding up a silly little peace sign while he sat next to a cute little dog you randomly met on the street.
You couldn't help but chuckle softly for a moment, then, your smile slowly fades back to form a serious expression on your face.
You miss the smile in his eyes like in the photo.
The idea of him in such sadness, worry, and pain ended up hurting you just as much as well.
"...I should talk to him."
So, you unlock your phone, open messages, and look for his contact name once again.
His contact nickname and his silly little photo appear.
'Bonito Flakes'
"...There."
Just when you were about to tap his name, you paused.
"Uh... wait... what should I say...?"
You pull back your thumb from the screen, suddenly having a bit of a panic on how to address the situation.
"..How do I reach out to him...? What... did he text me..? Is he upset with me? Is he looking for me...?"
His last text was from yesterday night, so you weren't sure what should be the best mood to approach him at this moment.
Just then, as if fate had timed this moment perfectly, a notification suddenly pops up on the top of your screen.
1 new message from Bonito Flakes
You gasped, completely taken aback from seeing his name.
'Wait... I'm not ready...!!'
You panicked slightly, causing you to drop your phone on the hard wood floor by accident, a loud thump echoing throughout the room. Fortunately, the Okkotsu family still hasn't returned from their outing yet, otherwise, you'd give them another reason to be worried about you.
You sigh, picking it back up as you lightly shook your head to gain back your composure.
As you check your sceen, you see another text from Toge come in.
Then another.
And another.
It made you slightly nervous but curious as to what his multiple texts were saying right now, and it sort of made you even more worried to know what he sent.
Is he sad? Does he need you? Is he just reaching out? Is he leaving the school? Does he want to distance himself from you?
"I'll... wait a little..."
Ultimately, you decided to let him finish sending his messages before you view it.
He sent quite a handful of texts, and it took a while before the messages stopped coming in. But just to be sure, you waited for a few minutes in case he had any late follow ups.
"I'll.... wait a little more..." You whisper to yourself as you stare at the phone in front of you, hoping to view his messages during a time when he's offline- You just wanted to make sure there was enough time for you to process and react to his texts without the pressure of him waiting for your response.
But the green dot next to his profile picture was still lit up, meaning, that he would be able to immediately see your replies the moment you send it.
But you would prefer he only sees it AFTER you're done sending your responses.
Sighing heavily, you whisper once more '...I guess I'll wait again...'
You check again after a few minutes, it was still green. So you wait again.
More time had passed but still- the green dot remained.
You wait again.
It was all you could think about for the past few hours as you move back and forth from checking your phone to lying down, staring into nothing...
Untul finally, at hour three, the green dot turns dim.
And with that, you were left with no excuse to delay opening your inbox any longer. "...alright... here we go.... I guess..."
With a hefty sigh and a single tap of your finger, you open his inbox.
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Your eyes widened suddenly, immediate shock at the realization.
With a quickened pace, you hurridly limped towards the nearest window, the cast on your leg creating a slight scratching sound as you drag it across the floor.
Pulling away the curtains, you scan the street below in search for the white haired boy.
You squint your eyes slightly, trying to adjust your eyes to the darkness of the night.
Then, you see him.
"He... he's still there...?"
On the opposite side of the street, there sat Toge on the small pavement across from Yuta's house.
His head rested on his arm and his head hung low, perhaps taking a bit of a nap as he waited for your reply.
A wave of guilt suddenly washes over you as you realize how long you've made him wait out in the cold for a single reply.
You text him.
Toge???? Why did you wait for me?
You look drenched, what happened???
How long have you been there???
But your messages didn't seem to get through, not showing a mark of it being delivered.
"His phone battery must've died...."
Instictively, you hurried out the room with a more detemined expression, carefully treading the stairs with your injured leg, and rushed out the door.
Unintentionally, the noise of opening the door a little too quickly echoed across the dead silent street, casuing Toge to immediately jolt himself awake.
He made eye contact with you while he remained seated across the street, shocked at your sudden appearance.
Embarassed for startling him, you slightly lose your confidence and shy away from his gaze, a small lump in your throat preventing you from voicing out any words.
Toge stood up slowly, his eyes widen but his chest beated out of nervousness.
He doesn't expect anything positve, but still, he remained hopeful, as much as he felt like he didn't deserve you.
"...um...." you started, hoping to break the akward silence that filled the air.
"...I-...."
"....."
"....p-...please, come in...."
....
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[Back to JJK Masterlist] [Part 1 & 2] [Part 3] [Part 5]
a/n: So happy I finally finished this :')))))))) Shoutout to anon that poked me abt this that genuinely helped me lolol I just really needed a little push to finish this
NOTE classes are back ^^ and I'm doing some part-time comms sooo I'll be a lil busy but ofc I won't abandon this I luv this series <3
Credits to @makuzume on Tumblr || Do not steal, translate, modify, reupload my works on any platform.
tags list: @zhenyuuu @cowcreamers @mushroommorgue @yunho-leeknow @lemonnotade @exodiam @an-ever-angry-bi @cirieria @chifuyufirstwife @strxbxrrylover @sturns55
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rentalboos · 1 year ago
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if you want my humble trans opinion to the Star Beast Trans discussion, here it goes:
a) Rose is a non-binary trans gal, I think when they posted the character profile she even used she/they pronouns? Not 100% on that anymore tho. But as a non-binary trans guy, I really just kinda smiled at that
b) the whole "binary - non-binary" thing is just the modern who version of "reverse the polarity of the neutron flow". It has no meaning, it was a childish moron split into 3 making shit up that sounded smart and dramatic, don't try to give it meaning, it's funnier that way
c) It's nice that it's confusing because I have never seen so many cis dw fans having an avid, sweet conversation about gender identity and trying to understand and listening to us. hell yeah. representation works.
d) finally confirming the doctor as non-binary and genderfluid was really nice if they hadn't followed it up with "a male-presenting Time Lord would never understand". Way to ruin a good thing. It's really the only thing that bothered me tho
e) Seeing all the bigots lose their mind over the "did you just assume the meep's pronouns" moment is so fun, they really don't know what to do when their one joke is being remade into our joke. And the Doctor going "oh yeah, I do that too" was maybe the funniest thing on DW in ages, absolutely stunning, 10/10, no notes
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yellowjestertfs · 2 months ago
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Agents of Change
My submission to @occamstfs 2000 follower viral writing contest. A million congrats to @occamstfs for the achievement, and a million more thanks for the help in editing this story.
Not quite my usual story but pretty happy with how it turned out. Also make sure to check out the other amazing authors participating in this contest as well.
As an elite member of the Secret Service, Whitman was prepared for an endless number of threats. He could disarm an attacker in seconds, spot gunmen from a hundred feet away, even disable a bomb with one foot while blindfolded upside down. What he wasn’t prepared for was pretty boys.
"Sir,” Brella, the youngest and only woman in his detail, said, her voice raised slightly in alarm as she pointed out the five men heading toward them in the hall.
“I see them,” Whitman said, placing a hand on his taser and standing up to his full five ten of hight in an attempt to look intimidating. The men were not outright threatening; dressed in too small suits, they could easily be young aides or politicians, if not for the fact that they looked wrong.
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Well, that is not exactly true; what really set Whitman off was the fact that they looked perfect—too perfect, like supermodels mixed with superheroes. It wasn’t that Washington didn't have its fair share of handsome fellas. Rather to the contrary, Whitman had known plenty of young senators or lobbyists who used their good looks as an advantage in their careers. None, however, looked like these men. 
They strode forward purposefully down the hallway, feet landing and lifting with perfect synchronicity.
Each of them was tall and broad, with strong muscular legs that bulged against their suit pants, although not quite as much as the bulges in their crotches. Their waists were trim and tight, tapering out to wide shoulders and strong arms. And then there were their faces. 
Though each differed in hairstyle and facial features, they all possessed the same quality to their face. Something about the cut of the jaw or the glint of the eyes made them undeniably linked. Beauty to the point of uncanny.
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“Excuse me, sirs. This is a restricted zone; I am going to have to ask you to turn around.” Whitman called out, though the men were still at least 70 feet away. 
The horde of men continued to stride forward, though the one in the lead responded. In a polite but slightly monotone voice, “We are allowed to be here; we have a meeting with the president.” He said face, adopting a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
Whitman tightened his hand on his taser. He knew for a fact these pretty boys didn't have any such meeting scheduled. He found it strange and troubling that that excuse had gotten them this far. Confusing and deeply suspicious. “The president is busy right now. You really should stop walking and tell me how you got in here.” The men kept walking forward, now only thirty feet from Whitman, and his team, posed outside the president’s office. 
“Bret and Berry let us in.” The man said, invoking the name of the secret service agents who watched the door to the hallway. Hearing the names jogged something in Whitman’s head—a fact right in front of him he had somehow missed. He heard his second in command Santiago let out a gasp behind him as he reached a similar conclusion. Two of the men flanking the leader bore a striking resemblance to the agents, only with faces more handsome and bodies more muscular. It was as if those agents had been remade in the image of conventional beauty standard, smooth and unnaturally symmetrical. In addition Bret now had a short beard that suited his dark eyes. While Berry’s hair had been combed and bleached into a thick blond swoop, which complemented his square face, and each man had gained at least fifty pounds of muscle and half a foot in height. 
“Stop right there,” Whitman yelled, losing any semblance of politeness. By now, the men were only ten feet away. Whitman removed his taser from his holster and pointed it at the man in the lead. Behind him, his agents did the same. 
“I assure you we mean no harm. Put down your weapons.” The man in the lead said, his voice intelligent and charismatic but with a hint of something alien in his words. He took another step, and Whitman fired. 
Small metal wires sprung out, latching onto the suit of the man in the lead. The taser in his hand bucked as it sent wave after wave of electricity into the man's body. When he was in the army Whitman had been tased as part of his training. They were the worst five seconds of his life as his every cell was violently electrocuted and he convulsed on the floor. The man in the lead didn't break a stride, seeming more annoyed by the hole the gun left in his suit than the electricity. Whitman watched as Brella and Cameron fired their taser into two of the other men who had similarly lack of response. 
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Santiago, seeing the ineffectualness of the weapon, brought out his gun and pointed it at the leader. Whitman always preached avoiding lethal harm as often as possible; but the rapid escalation of the situation surely called for it. In a blur, the man in the lead rushed forward. Whitman could only feel the air kicked up by him as he rushed past and grabbed Santiago’s wrist with one hand, shoved it and the gun upwards towards the ceiling. Cameron reached for his own gun, but Bret and Berry rushed forward to stop him while another man grabbed Brella from behind and put a hand over her mouth. Whitman found himself backing up, physically blocking the door to the Oval Office with his body as his agents were incapacitated before him. 
These men moved faster than humanly possible and were far stronger as well, but Whitman was not defenseless. The last unoccupied man lunged for him, but Whitman managed to sidestep right at the last second, causing the man to lose his balance. Whitman took advantage of this and grabbed him in a headlock, pulling his gun out, and placing it to the man's temple.
Brella screamed something, but the sound was muffled by the hand over her mouth. Santiago’s arm was still in the grasp of the man in the lead, but oddly enough he seemed not to be struggling, instead staring straight ahead at the ceiling with a glazed look. Even more strangely, Cameron now faced away from Whitman, locked in the tight embrace with the man who resembled Berry. Whitman’s eyes went wide as he realized the two were kissing. He was even more startled to realize that Bret was unbuttoning Cameron's white button-down shirt from behind, running his hands over Cameron's now bare lower back.
Whitman couldn’t understand what was happening. His brain, grounded so long in the mundane, couldn’t process the unexplainable happening occurring before his eyes. Santiago's wrist and hand were jerking. No, not jerking, shifting, growing larger, bone pushed outwards as skin tightened, veins slowly rose to the surface. His fingernails straightened into perfect uniform cuticles, and his knuckles became rough and bony and distinctly masculine. His once slender wrist thickened, while his forearm muscles swelled, pushing against the skin with newfound strength as more veins and dark brown hair sprang to the surface like rivers and trees. 
Whitman watched dumbly as the changes quickly grew past Santiago's elbow, onto his upper arm, which grew muscular and brawny, and eventually up to his shoulder, which widened and rounded with new muscle. 
Cameron, from his own embrace, let out low guttural noises of pleasure. He shifted, revealing the side of his face. It looked almost as if Cameron now had a birthmark around his lips. The skin had the skin was slightly darker and completely unblemished. The change spread from around his lips in all directions like a flame in a field. As it went, it changed not just his skin but the landscape of his face, tightening his jaw, nose growing slightly, cheeks becoming high and prominent, and all the while leaving numerous small light brown hairs on his chin and cheeks to form perfectly groomed stubble. His brows became thicker, forehead lost its wrinkles, eyes narrowed and turned a deep shade of green the color of rusty copper. 
As this happened, Bret managed to remove Cameron's suit jacket and shirt from his body. He wrapped his arms around Cameron's torso, rubbing his hands over Cameron's slight belly and hairy chest. Everywhere Bret touched changed rapidly, stomach giving way to tight abs with cut obliques. Bret placed his hands over both Cameron's nipples, and under his hands, pecs grew in for him to cup. His back also shifted as the changes spread, muscles tightening and skin became just as hairless and poreless as on his face. Cameron began to gyrate his hips back into Bret's groin as his moans became louder.
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All of this happened in a matter of seconds. Brella was unaffected at least, as she continued to struggle against her attacker. “Stop whatever you're doing or he gets it.” Whitman barked, tightening his headlock on the man he had subdued and jamming his gun further into the man's head.
The one who had grabbed Santiago, the leader, turned to face Whitman. He dropped Santiago's wrist, which instantly fell to his side, slack. The alien changes had spread over his chest, down his torso, and into his other arm. Whitman watched as the changes crept up his neck, thickening as it grew a more prominent Adam's apple. Despite being free, Santiago stood there limply, gun clattering to the floor next to him. The leader took a step towards Whitman. The two men locked eyes. For a moment, he felt an understanding between him and the leader. This man was a killer bee, with drones at his command and yet also supremely dangerous in his own right. Whitman was a bear though, he would do anything to protect his charge, and he had a taste for honey.
The leader raised his hands in surrender, and Whitman smiled coldly. Then he felt a hand wrap around his bare ankle underneath his pant leg. Instant sensations overwhelmed him. Shock, lust, horror—his hormones became an unstable cocktail as sensations wracked his body. From the location of the touch, he felt a deep biting cold; the places where his captor’s fingers touched were suddenly plunged into an Antarctic snowbank. Whitman kicked his leg, breaking his captive’s grip on his leg, but the cold feeling remained. He tried to fire his gun, but his hands began to shake so violently that it dropped from his grip. He looked up and saw the leader had closed the distance to him in a second so that their faces were now inches away. Whitman thought he was going to kiss him as Barry had to Cameron. But instead, the leader whispered in Whitman's ear, so close that Whitman could smell the mint on his breath and feel the hot air on his cheek. “Stop fighting. Enjoy it. Soon we will be one.”
Whitman tried to say something, but only a croak came out. He fell to his knees, then fully to the floor as the burning cold spot on his ankle pulsed rhythmically. Whitman could only watch as the leader and the man who should have been his  captive walked over to Whitman's agents. The changes had fully spread across Santiago's face, giving him a handsome look somehow that shared the uncanny similarity to his attackers. Through his clothes, Whitman couldn’t tell how far the changes had reached on Santiago's lower body, but judging by the large bulge pushing out his pants in the front and the even larger butt pushing out from the back, they were spreading rapidly.
Cameron seemed even further along. His entire body and face were completely changed. He had become a brute of a man, with a tall hulking frame on trunks for legs, a creature of power. His face looked the same way; it shared the other's beauty but had a more square, simple cast to it that made him look halfway between a prince and a caveman. He no longer stared blankly at his head but sneered intimidatingly. He and the leader approached Brella, tying a rope around her arms and legs and putting a gag into her mouth. She looked desperately to Whitman or Santiago for help, but both were just as powerless as she was.
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Whitman watched as Santiago’s foot expanded, toes growing and curling in his now too-small shoes. As the last part of his body changed, Santiago looked up from his trance and light returned to his eyes. Whitman tried to signal for him to grab the fallen gun, but instead, Santiago moved to stand by the leader's side. Now a group of seven, numbers bolstered by two of his own, the men walked past a helpless Whitman and into the door to the Oval Office that Whitman had failed in his mission to guard.
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The changes spread down Whitman’s ankle into his foot and up to his knee. He found with alarm that he was unable to move those parts of his body, like they had been calcified in stone. With his arms he crawled forward gaining a view into the office. His discarded gun lay a few feet before him. He tried to crawl some more but found the activity becoming more and more taxing.
Inside the office, chaos had erupted. The four secret service agents Whitman had assigned to stay inside the office had heard the commotion outside and were ready with guns drawn. Even so, they were not fast enough. Four of the men, including Santiago, raced blindingly fast toward the men and incapacitated them in seconds; their touch began the changes on those agents that Whitman was currently experiencing. 
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The Secretary of Agriculture, Packson Jackson, a little man who the president had been meeting with, tried to stop the intruders, physically placing his body in front of the president. Cameron stepped forward and lifted the man into the air with one hand as effortlessly as if he were a toy. Jackson flailed in Cameron’s grasp, feet kicking harmlessly into the air. Cameron brought his hand up to hover just above Jackson’s face. The meek man shied away, closing his eyes tight in anticipation. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off as Cameron from above spit down into his mouth, then shoved his thumb between the secretary’s lips. Jackson looked horrified for a second, then a glazed appearance came over his eyes, and he began sucking furiously on the finger as his face started to transform from the inside out. 
Whitman struggled forward. The changes had spread up one leg into his hips and down the other. In the wake of the changes, Whitman's sturdy thigh had become a cut cascade of muscle, thick and hairy and made for pushing mountains instead of walking briskly down White House hallways. His hips spasmed uncontrollably as round mounds emerged to form a tight shelf on his butt, the movement forcing his dick into the ground repeatedly. His penis felt strange, growing erect, then warm, then pricked with hundreds of pleasurable tingles as his dick and balls swelled larger. The haze of sensations creating an overwhelming fogging on his brain became twinged by acute and powerful horniness. 
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The president, watching his secret service taken out so easily, raised his hand in defeat. He addressed the leader of the group, who leaned against the doorframe casually.
“I surrender.” He said in his signature southern drawl, giving a disarming smile. “Whatever your grudge is, it's with me, not these people.” He gestured to the secret service agents in various phases of transformation. “Release them and you can kill me, I won’t fight.”
“Kill you?” The leader asked from the doorframe. His voice was deep and hypnotic, with that same twinge of distance from before as if he were detached from the events happening around him. He rushed forward in a blur so that he was only inches away from the president. To Whitman's relief, his hands stayed by his side. “I’m afraid you misunderstand, Mr. President, we are here to give you a gift.”
With herculean effort, Whitman stretched out his arm far enough for his fingers to brush against the handle of the fallen gun. By now the changes had overtaken his other leg and moved onto his torso, which slimed into sleek abs. His head was on fire, every neuron on full tilt; he could barely keep up with the events happening in front of him, and in the back of his mind, he felt something—a new presence knocking on his proverbial mental door.
The president looked down at the Secretary convulsing on the floor in front of him. Already the changes had elongated Packson body significantly and beefed up his slender frame with significant muscle. “I don’t want your gift.” He glanced at Whitman, struggling on the floor for a gun, and knew he needed to buy time. “Let's talk about what you want—money, power, favors. I can do all three if you release these innocent men.”
The leader seemed willing to take the bait. “I sometimes forget how petty and simple men can be.” He said it in a thoughtful retrospective manner, looking the president up and down from his head-higher of vantage. “We are not apes to be so easily swayed from our course by the carnal; we are oneness, brotherhood, fraternity, true revelation. You will soon understand”
Whitman's flailing hand seized the gun. The changes had reached his chest, which now hovered several inches off the ground on pillowy muscular pecs. His shoulders locked up as the changes reached them. As he took aim with the gun the changes continued down his arm, leaving a round bicep/tricep combo and locking his elbow in place. 
Something about the way the leader spoke, about the lofty collective tone. It felt dangerous, otherworldly, and distinctly familiar. The intruder in the back of his mind spoke similarly; it urged him to put down the gun and to join it in its mission of conversion, of domination. 
Whitman blocked it out. He felt the changes spread up his neck, up his jaw, and over his mouth, removing any power he might have had to make a sound. He felt a strange prickle on his face as a thick, well-groomed beard grew in. An exhalation from his straightening nose tickled his new mustache hair. As the changes passed his eyes, he could feel them start to physically alter his brain, making him more malleable and honing him for whatever purpose these changes, this being, meant for him.
Even stranger he felt a connection start to emerge in his consciousness to the other affected men in the room. He could feel their thoughts, their emotions, and their misgivings. 
The leader stepped forward to grab the president's bare flesh. The president flinched back. Whitman could feel the leader's thoughts through the new bond and knew he intended to grab with the right hand and lunge with his whole body. Whitman's wrist and palm were no longer his, fully transformed; it didn't matter. He still had his fingers and just enough of himself left to pull the trigger. 
The leader, or rather the entity inside the leader, felt Whitman's actions as he did them. He was fast, but the bullet was faster. In the split second the entity inside the leader made itself physical to infect the president with his touch Whitman shot. The bullet sailed right into its eldritch form, just between the leader's body and the president, and out the other side. 
The entity led out an ungodly, inhuman, nail on a chalkboard screech, and then it was gone. All around the destroyed office, men woke up as if from a dream, eyes fluttering rapidly and looking around at the carnage they had only passengers to. Cameron looked down at his gargantuan body with shock, while Jackson groaned and picked himself off the floor unsteadily, his body now a foot taller and 100 pounds heavier.
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 From the hallway, Brella moaned through her gag. Santiago suddenly himself again, although now with a model's face and a bodybuilder frame, went to untie her sheepishly. Whitman lay on the floor, profoundly exhausted and overwhelmed. 
“Can I shake your hand?” A voice said from above him. Whitman looked up to see the president smiling down at him. That managed to rouse him, and he slowly got to his feet. Every part of his body, save the very tip of his middle fingers, had been transformed. His tailored suit now looked pathetically small on his thick muscular frame, and his face felt wider, more masculine, his jaw jutting outward strongly as if he could chew rocks like gum. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, of his body becoming this new foreign perfect thing. Whitman didn't know how he was going to even start explaining this to his husband or stepkids. 
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Now however, he had other concerns. The president stuck out his hand for Whitman to shake, and god damn it if Whitman didn't deserve it. He clasped the other man's hand, meaty fingers, and palm enveloping the leader’s, and shook vigorously with the strength afforded by his new beefy arm. 
The president gave a brief look of shock, and Whitman feared he didn't yet know his own strength. Then he felt something strange. The president's grip tightened, and his fingers started to move in the handshake; no, they started to grow, his hand becoming just as meaty and masculine as Whitman now was. 
The president dropped the handshake and raised his hand to his face, admiring the now smooth tan hand, powerful and devoid of any wrinkles. Both men waited for the changes to spread down his wrist or for the president's eyes to glaze over, but nothing happened. 
“I am so sorry, Mr. President. I will submit myself to quarantine immediately.”
“Oh, hush.” The president said, waving his new hand dismissively. He flexed it appreciatively, admiring the strength and lack of wrinkles “I think this could help me quite a bit in New Hampshire.” He unbuttoned the sleeves of his shirt and rolled it up to reveal his forearm. “Do the rest of me, then I will get you in touch with the generals.”
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amica-aenigmata-naboo · 2 months ago
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Weekend With You
Christian Yu / Mito x Y/N - drabble - 1.1K WC
Masterlist
Warnings: FLUFF AF, menstruation, embarrassment, they are both such good boyfriends I cannot stress this enough, very sweet, I guess this could be slight hurt/comfort?
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Christian watched as you slept peacefully. The way your chest rose and fell softly was hypnotizing, he felt like he could watch you like this forever.Your eyes fluttered open and found his almost instantly. He leaned in, “Good morning lovely.” he said with a smile while pressing a kiss to your cheek.
You smiled before your face scrunched up, “Oh for fucks sake!” you said with anger in your voice before you quickly got up from the bed and rushed into the bathroom. 
Christian sat up, looking at the shut bathroom door with confusion. He pulled the covers back to follow after you then he saw it. A little puddle of blood staining the sheets on your side. Oh. On one hand, he understood why you felt the way you did. On the other, he knew you were going to feel bad and embarrassed as you two had just gotten comfortable staying at each other's apartments. Christian stood up quickly and stripped the bed, tossing the comforter into the dryer and the sheets into the wash. He remade the bed just in time for you to reemerge from the bathroom. As expected, your eyes never met him and your cheeks were burning red. 
You tried to move past him, “I’m um… I’m gonna go home.” you said, picking up your sweatshirt quickly.
“No you’re not.” Christian said. He gently tugged you back to the bed where you noticed the different sheets. 
“I’m really sorry about the sheets… I can buy new ones…” you mumbled.
Christian shook his head, “Absolutely not. What you can do is get back in bed and order everything you want and need while I go get my heating pad from the living room.” he said, pushing his phone into your hand. 
You refused to sit down, “My underwear still has blood on it…” you whispered.
Christian thought for a second before running into his closet and bringing you back a pair of underwear. You looked at him with confusion as you took them from him, “When I modeled for Calvin Klein I got some for you but wasn’t really sure how to give underwear as a gift without looking weird or like I had ulterior motives…” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.
You smiled softly, taking them from him, “Thank you.” you said sincerely. You moved to go back to the bathroom before Christian stopped you again, handing you clothes that were sitting on the edge of the bed.
“I thought you might want these? They're comfy and clean.” he said. You could see it on his face; he wasn’t exactly sure what to do in this situation but he was trying and it made your heart melt. 
“Thank you… I’ll um, I’ll be right back.” you said, shuffling into the bathroom. You changed, setting his phone down on the countertop. You heard it buzz and looked over, it was a text from his mom.
Mom - 9:26 AM 
Make sure she eats well and gets plenty of rest, water too! Whatever she wants, get it for her. A relaxing day is all she needs :) 
You wanted to cry at how sweet Christian is. You had never met his mom but the fact that she knew of you, and the fact that he cared enough to text his mom and ask how to properly care for you made you absolutely sick with love. You emerged from the bathroom to Christian sitting on the bed, you made your way to him before engulfing him in a hug. 
He hugged you back, “My clothes look good on you.” he mumbled into the crook of your neck with a smirk before giving your ass a light smack.
You chuckled before handing him his phone, “Your mom texted you… I um ordered some stuff, I’ll pay you back.” you said, holding onto one of his hands.
“If you pay me back I swear to god…” he joked. “I ordered us your favorite so we don’t have to cook.” he smiled at you.
“Can we stay in bed until it gets here?” you asked.
“Of course!” he said, pulling the comforter back before laying the heating pad on your abdomen and pulling the blanket back over you. He slid back into the bed next to you, pulling you into his chest. 
“I’m sorry for fucking up the weekend… I know you wanted to go to the beach… and I ruined your sheets and it's all so gross…” you sighed, feeling guilty and shameful.
“Hey,” he tilted your chin up to look at him, “One - It’s not gross. It’s healthy and normal. Two - I own a washing machine, the sheets will be fine. And three -  The weekend isn’t fucked because all I wanted this weekend was to be around you, beach or not.” he said confidently. 
You searched his eyes for any sign of disappointment but all you saw was love. You kissed him gently before snuggling back into him.
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“Baby?... Baby!” Christian said, shaking you slightly. 
Your eyes fluttered open, you looked at him and noticed his softer eyes and more sullen look. “Mito!” you said as you stretched your arms, pulling him down into a hug.
You felt him smile against your neck, “The food and stuff is here, I set it all up in the living room. Your products are in the bathroom.” he said, pulling away slightly. He picked up a glass of water from the side table before handing you two pills “Ibuprofen… for the pain.” he said.
You took them both before walking to the bathroom and using a proper sanitary product because the emergency toilet paper pad was not gonna cut it long term. You walked into the living room where Mito sat on the couch, giving you a soft smile. He held the remote out to you, “Whatever you wanna watch.” he said, pulling you down so your legs rested across his lap and you could lean into his chest. 
You ate and watched random movies for hours, Mito surprising you with chocolate and other sweets he knew you enjoyed. You felt yourself starting to drift off again as he held his large, warm hand over your lower stomach. “Thank you for today…” you mumbled, “I love you so much…” you whispered before slipping off into dreamland. 
Mito froze before he looked down at you with big doe eyes, he kissed your forehead, “We love you too.” he replied for all of them. It was the first time either of you had said that to each other after just a few months of dating but he knew with his whole heart that he felt nothing but love for you.
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Naboo's Note:
Hello! This was based off a request and I love it! I'm such a sucker for these types of fics. Almost all of my requests right now are for Christian Yu/Mito/Mr. Insanity so I would expect an influx of them. I hope ya'll are doing well. My first day back at work since surgery went pretty well so here's to keeping the good vibes going! XOXOXO
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estrellka-chipsa · 11 months ago
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Medieval Save 2.0 (with CC)
Welcome to my Medieval save for The Sims 4.
I've dedicated a considerable amount of time and effort into crafting it, and the work will continue with more worlds to come. As an enthusiast of this kind of Sims 4 world, I've created something that I myself would eagerly enjoy playing. I wish you a wonderful gaming experience with this save. Don't forget to familiarize yourself with the instructions.
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Main Information:
1. Remade cities: Willow Creek, Newcrest, Magnolia Promenade, Windenburg, Brindleton Bay, Moonwood Mill, Sulani. More worlds will be added in the future.
(for convenience, you can download this file and place it in the Mods folder. It will highlight the remade cities).
C:\Users\username\Documents\Electronic Arts\The Sims 4\Mods.
2. The following hidden lots have been remade: Police Station, Laboratory, Hospital, School + Classroom, Magical Realm, Movie Studio.
3. How to install the save:
Place the .save file at the following path: C:\Users\username\Documents\Electronic Arts\The Sims 4\saves
Lifespan is set to high.
4. This is not a mod! It's a save file. Look for it in the game through "Load Game." Changes will only affect this save.
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DOWNLOAD SAVE FILE:
Patreon | Boosty (Public 25.XII.23)
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Many thanks for authors of CC and Mods: @lady-moriel @simverses ♡ @zx-ta @llazyneiph @janesimsten @pandorasimbox @deaderpoolmc @mizoreyukii @piedpiperworld @littlbowbub @chippedsims @littlemssam @kalino-thesims @miraim @clepysdra @eumedieval
All authors of CC and Mods (used in my save) can write me to get a free link for my save!
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slayfics · 6 months ago
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Hitoshi offers to stay.
950 words
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You puttered around your new apartment tending to your guests. Having a party with the rest of your pro-hero friends seemed like a good idea to celebrate your new place. However, you failed to remember that the one thing about heroes is they work hard and drink harder.
Getting everyone together to celebrate soon resulted in your apartment being filled with drunk friends. Laughing, dancing, catching up, but also plenty of alcohol spills.
“Oh shit! I’m sorry in your new place too,” Mina apologized, eyes glazed over from the alcohol, she looked around the room for some napkins.
“It’s alright, don’t worry about it! I’ll be right back,” you assured her and quickly took off for the kitchen.
You rounded the corner too fast, in a hurry, and half buzzed. Trying as quickly as possible to clean the spill, you weren’t paying attention and crashed into Hitoshi.
His red solo cup squashed between you both soaking his shirt.
“Shit! I’m so sorry Shinso,” you apologized backing up embarrassed.
“It’s alright,” he replied, glancing down at his drenched shirt.
“I got to clean up a spill in the living room, but then I’ll come back to remake your drink!” You said hurriedly grabbing the napkins.
“You don’t have to,” he replied, but you had already vanished back into the living room.
Mina continued to apologize as she bent down to the floor with you to soak up the spill.
“Don’t worry about it, accidents were bound to happen with all of us together again,” you laughed.
Mina giggled, “Guess we both need another drink, don’t we?” She suggested.
“I actually bulldozed into Shinso so, I’m going back to remake his drink. I’ll bring you back one too,” you offered.
Mina glanced up at you, ready to make a joke but you had already grabbed the soiled napkins and headed back to the kitchen.
When you entered the kitchen, Hitoshi had already remade the drink you spilled.
“I told you I’d remake it for you,” you spoke, alerting his attention.
“It’s fine, seems you got your hands full,” he commented, noticing your out of breath appearance.
“Let me at least get you a shirt and dry that one up,” you offered. “I’ve got a clean oversized t-shirt somewhere.”
Hitoshi smiled; it was sweet you were so persistent. He really didn’t care about his wet shirt, but he didn’t mind you wanting to tend to him.
“Alright, if you feel so inclined,” he agreed.
“Ok come with me,” you motioned for him to follow you to your room.
You poked around the room searching for a shirt that would fit him, while Hitoshi gazed around your room. Most of your things still in boxes. Very few items decorated your room, but on the bed a stuffed animal was laid out neatly. Something about that was cute and innocent. It made him feel as though he was stealing glances into your private life.
“Here you go! I think this one should fit, at least while I throw yours in the dryer,” you declared, holding up a plain black t-shirt that you sometimes used for bed. “I promise it’s clean.”
“Hold this for me for a second?” He asked handing you his drink. You grabbed the solo cup from him, and Hitoshi pulled off his soaked shirt.
“Oh,” you mewled out accidentally. Maybe it was the buzz you had going, but the sight of Hitoshi shirtless made your fingers tighten around the solo cup. The spill from the alcohol caused his toned abs to glisten in the low light of your room. Hitoshi peered up at you, an eyebrow raised at your reaction.
“Sorry!” You blurted out, “You um- must be doing a lot of hero work, you look good.” You said honestly.
“Thank you,” he replied, cheeks turning rosy at your compliment.
“Oh, uh here,” you handed him the dry shirt, hands shaking. It was clear you were nervous.
Hitoshi thought it was amusing. A beautiful woman like you nervous because of him? He couldn’t deny how much he loved it.
Grabbing the shirt from you, your bedroom door suddenly bursts open.
“Ops,” Mina giggled. “Was wondering when you were coming back with my drink. Didn’t realize I was interrupting,” she commented glancing over at Hitoshi who was still shirtless.
Your face darkened with embarrassment, “No! I was just giving him a dry shirt!” You explained.
“Uh hu, sure sure,” Mina laughed, leaving and closing the door behind her.
“I’m sorry!” You said to Hitoshi, face completely scarlet.
“Do you always apologize this much?” he asked, finally grabbing and putting on the dry shirt. “I haven’t seen you relax since I got here. Everyone seems to be letting loose but you.”
You let a sigh, and what felt like the first time since the party took in a breath. “To be honest I thought it would be fun to celebrate my new place with everyone but- it’s turning out to be overwhelming.”
“Mm,” Hitoshi hummed understanding. “It’s definitely a rambunctious group. Hard to keep up with all that energy.”
“Exactly! I’m trying to be a good host but I’m exhausted.” You confessed.
“If you’d like I’ll stay till everyone leaves and help clean up,” Hitoshi offered.
Your eyes flashed to his. Was that an innocent offer, you wondered? If his kindness had an ulterior motive, his lilac eyes gave nothing away. His gaze rested on you lazily, with a calmness that you envied.
You swallowed as your mind raced at the possible implications, deciding to accept his help.
“Yeah… I’d like that,” you smiled, part of you hoping Hitoshi did have another reason for wanting to stay.
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sinners: @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @derangedmango @reneinii @zanarkandskylines @abadbitchblogs @deluluforcarlos55 @that-one-fangirl69 @pinkpurpledreams
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boldsalad · 3 months ago
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Miiko's Eyelashes Updated after Aug 08 Patch
Hi..
I'm not a CC creator and I have no idea what I'm doing honestly, I just followed a guide I found to try fixing eyelashes after the recent patch for my own game as I haven't seen certain lashes I use in my game updated and have heard they likely won't be updated in a while. If the creator of these CC Lashes updates or wants me to take this down I will immediately!
This is not a permanent fix anyways as again, I have no idea what I'm doing. However I -painstakingly- followed the guide and remade each file, it was tedious and I truly have a newfound appreciation for CC creators. I made files for Skin Details, Mouth Crease and Right Lip Mole, and the new Eyelash Category. I updated all 5 parts of Miiko's eyelashes, and was planning on doing the rest that I use in my game that likely won't be updated, or at least for a while.
The lashes still conflict with accessories, some with glasses, some with rings, some with both. I tested them out in CAS and in game and they work otherwise. The only issue I ran into that may affect players is that I noticed the original eyelash package had 3 LOD's, however in order to update them I could only upload 2 LOD's, meaning I'm not sure how it will look in games that have lower specs.
Again this is really a temporary fix until either the creator or someone else who actually knows how to fix these comes along.
Sorry, I did this for my game but since they worked I wanted to share with anyone else who was waiting like me, I'm just sorry I don't know how to do these things well enough :( But I really hope they work for you guys! If not, again, I'm sorry.
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callmelitlesunshine · 1 month ago
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Lie To Me
reblogs are appreciated!🧡
1983. They spent another day in the safehouse working on a plan for their next joint mission. To play a couple who must infiltrate an important event and extract important papers from one of those who transmits data to the USSR. Perhaps this will help them find Perseus, whom they have been looking for for so long.
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Is there anything these two are not capable of? Of course not. But Bell didn't like the details that her "mentor" had added. Adler. Bell could see right through many people, but only with Adler it was difficult. He is one of those who is so secretive that several months would not be enough to "read" him. She understood him and his actions, but sometimes she could only rack her brains looking at him.
— I don't like it this plan. We should change it. We won't have enough time to get into the office. — Bell stopped him, blocking his way with her body. This operation had cost them several months of sleepless nights and Bell didn't want everything to be ruined. — It seems we've already decided everything, haven't we? — In one hand he held a folder with papers, in the other — as always — a cigarette. — Go get ready. — Adler walked around Bell and added: — Everything will go as it should. — His voice was as confident as on the day they decided to storm Lubyanka. But despite this, Bell still had doubts.
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Just as they were starting to work on the event, Adler suddenly changed the plan. Again. Bell hates it when everything suddenly changes. All they needed was to steal a few important papers. But Adler was not satisfied with this after he contacted the informant and realized that now they could get even more. And this, of course, was not part of the main plan. Having learned about this, Bell did not hold back. This is simply not in her rules and Adler knew it. The reaction was immediate and Bell rushed somewhere to the side away from prying eyes and ears.
— We will have too little time to get the files! What are you counting on? We may not make it!
Adler grabbed her hand and squeezed it lightly — this is how he demanded her attention. This made Bell cool her ardor a little and stop, at least for a second.
— Look at me, Bell. — His features seemed to soften at that moment. — Do you trust me? Or you scared? — Now he demands an answer from her. He wants her to believe him, otherwise there will be no point in all this.
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— I hate you and your unpredictability. — Her voice trembled, as if she herself did not believe her words, and her smirk only betrayed her. But she simply hated the way he behaved.
And Adler understood it. But all he was sure of was that she would follow him no matter what. — You know, I'm not thrilled with you either. — He said.
But the kiss that followed these words proved otherwise. They were like children playing some stupid game, throwing harsh words at each other. Now was not the time for feelings, but Adler thought it was the perfect moment to give in a little. It would seem that this is simply incompatible — a little weakness in the form of feelings and Russell Adler. But these two years, spent almost every day next to her, still made themselves felt.
Adler moved away from Bell, but it seemed that she herself did not want to let him go.
— It's time for us to go, — he said. Bell nodded her head slightly, showing agreement. But they both knew that they would return to this conversation.
P.S. This scene is partially recreated based on one of the scenes from the TV series Die Neue Zeit.
Soooo, heheh, i remade some of my old renders and rewrite fanfic with this and i'm very happy!😭That was a lot of fun to make all of this things! I like to tell their story and it will be much more soon!!🧡🧡🧡
Taglist [in/out]: @that1avian @gerdi-mitchell @mutantthedark @adlerdaduck @carlosoliveiraa @adlerboi @tommyarashikage @alexxmason
@hehehuhu490 @violetflavia @courtana
@iamcautiouslyoptimistic @sergeiravenov @pricescigar @ladysouthpaw1213
@drug-overdose @guigz1-coldwar
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velvet4510 · 7 months ago
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Headcanon that all that juicy stuff such as the hug, the acorn moment, “to me he was…” etc. all happened in book canon too because who says it didn’t, Bilbo just wanted to keep and treasure those moments to himself and leave them out of his memoir.
SO when Thorin went to Aulë’s corner in the Halls of Mandos, he watched Bilbo and Balin’s “to me he was” talk via Vairë’s tapestries. And he wondered what the rest of that sentence was, especially as the rest of the company insisted Bilbo’s use of “friend” to the house thieves was an oversimplification and not the real truth.
When Bilbo finally arrived in the Halls, though the Gift of Men could not be taken from him, he was allowed a few hours in Aulë’s corner to reconnect with the Dwarves one last time before leaving Arda. Once everyone had caught up on Bilbo’s life, and he’d said his last farewells to most of them, he and Thorin went to Aulë’s gates alone.
What followed was akin to the WandaVision finale. Though they knew they could not stay like this, Thorin’s last request was to know the rest of that one unfinished sentence he once overheard. “…What am I to you?” Bilbo’s answer was a parallel to, if not word for word, “You are my sadness and my hope, but mostly you’re my love.” One last hug and kiss, a promise to reunite when the world is remade, and Bilbo departed from Arda.
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