#actually I was fine writing it

[thatpunnyperson]

According to NBC here in the US, the missing titanic sub has been found. As debris. Off the bow of the Titanic wreckage.

And it looks like the sub suffered what we all suspected, and what was undoubtedly the more merciful of the two options: a catastrophic implosion from the pressure.

Also, more info has come to light about the fishing trawler with the hundreds of migrants that sank cataclysmically off the coast of Greece, indicating that the greek coast guard knew about the vessel AND how much trouble the vessel was in, and were towing it at a speed that made it capsize, at which point they unhooked the tow line and watched the trawler sink without helping the passengers to safety. Despite a bunch of other ships trying to help as well throughout the whole ordeal.

So a lot of people are dead, all because of regulations (and the lack thereof) regarding sea-faring vessels and rescue protocols. People shouldnt be allowed to make a business charging a ton of money for a ride on an uncertified, unsafe, un-seaworthy ship going deep into the ocean with no distress beacon or tether to the mothership. People also shouldnt be allowed to enact laws that criminalize the ferrying of refugees, which then force the refugees to hitch rides on fishing trawlers, and which also prevent people from helping those fishing trawlers full of refugees due to fear of legal consequences.

Hopefully BOTH of these events spark changes on an international scale in terms of what is legally allowed to be sailed, who is legally allowed to be the passengers, and what the rescue protocols are in the event of disaster for any seafaring vessel, illegal or not. It shouldnt be just the global 1% who get 24/7 search parties and remote-operated submersibles helping rescue them.

#the question of 'what do we owe to each other' can be answered simply with 'the dignity of retrieving our remains when we die' #another answer is 'the dignity of thinking about each other fellow humans with similar motivations and feelings' #also 'stopping someones potentially self-destructive behaviors just because theyre rich and want to feel special' #also i feel like humans have been sailing the seas long enough that it should be guaranteed that people will survive sea voyages #im very mad about specifically mediterranean maritime disasters because we have ancient writing saying they made it safe #sailing from Egypt to Greece was so old hat and safe that people legit took the ancient equivalent of cruises back and forth #cleopatra habitually sailed from alexandria to rome with a ton of ships and was fine #Nero tried to have his mother drowned at sea by orchestrating a dramatic shipwreck while she was our sailing AND SHE SURVIVED #and then swam to shore got back to rome and whooped his ass #fuckin pliny the elder tried to evacuate people from pompeii and the surrounding coast villages when vesuvius erupted #and he actually WAS able to rescue people #but he himself had an asthma attack from the fumes which led to a heart attack and he died on the beach #there is legit no excuse for that trawler of migrant refugees to have wrecked #negligence all around #anyway #oceangate

[nightmaretour]

Anti-technology people who insist they're not ableist crack me up. What about people who rely on machines to breathe, eat, keep their heart functioning, or otherwise stay alive? "Well not that technology, obviously!" Ok what about AAC users, people who use hearing aids, or otherwise use technology to interact with the world in ways they otherwise couldn't? "Not that technology, obviously." Okay, my mobile phone is my memory, my sense of time, my sense of direction when I get lost, my ability to contact someone when I need help. It is my personal freedom because without it I would need full time care and supervision. But yes, that technology, right?

I hate how technology is made and utilised under capitalism as much as the next guy, but to pretend that technology doesn't greatly improve the lives of countless people, or even allow them to continue being alive, is to be willfully ignorant to the existence of disabled people. A world without technology is a world where a lot of disabled people don't get to survive. Capitalism is the problem, not the technology. Technology can (and should) exist just fine without capitalism.

#cripplepunk #cripple punk #disability #anti tech #actually disabled #don't even get me started on how technology is necessary to synthesise a lot of vital medicines #A whole lot of supposedly left wing ideologies rely on just pretending that disabled people don't exist #Or even outright admitting that we would no longer exist in their 'ideal' future #Apparently eugenics is fine if you put an anti-capitalist badge on it #Anti tech is ecofascism you can't change my mind #(Side note I forgot the word activism for a solid 5 minutes writing this and I'm scared) #eco fascism #1k #2k #3k

[siriusly-the-best-bi]

wow so I have like 3 analysis in progress that touch on this topic but I really need to just talk about it rn with its own spotlight.

Aziraphale has this entire life that he's built for himself on earth, after armageddon he's thriving. When we catch up with him in Season 2 his first scene is literally him going to check in with one of his tenants, and throughout the season we see that he has a decent relationship with nearly Everyone on the block. He has an entire life for himself all hashed out and pretty.

Crowley... does not. His cold open in Season 2 is back in St. James park, checking in with Shax, finding out the gossip on Hell. He doesn't have his apartment, he only has his Bentley and the few plants he could fit in it. He doesn't have any other human friendships. His entire life and everything he loves to do is built entirely around Aziraphale.

This is something that I just find so fucking thrilling because when it comes to their characters and where exactly they are in their arcs right now, it's essentially like looking into a mirror.

Aziraphale knows exactly who he is when he's on his own. He nurtures his own relationships with humans he sees often, he's a nice landlord, he loves books and classical music, and hot cocoa. But, Aziraphale still holds onto the ideals of heaven. He still cares about doing good and being forgiving. He still cowers and jumps at the opportunity to help heaven, not because he wants to but because he's supposed to because he's still an angel.

Crowley has nothing. He has his car, which he drives to a secluded location to park every night, only to drive it right back in the morning. He's only even vaguely recognizable because people associate him with Aziraphale and this is fine for him, he could care less. He doesn't really need to know who he is or process his traumas, why would he when he can put all his attention and focus and love and care directly into Aziraphale? His friend, who has always been his friend, the one person who has always stood by him. Who cares about heaven and hell, he has Aziraphale.

When we finally see them on their own and without the influences of their head offices, we see the opposite of what we'd expect, and nearly the opposite of the outcome we see in episode 6. Crowley is the one constantly checking in with Hell (wether he likes it or not), and Aziraphale is the one who's living care free without even thinking about heaven. When he does something good that he wants to report, he just calls Crowley.

this whole dance of Crowley not knowing who he is without Aziraphale and Aziraphale knowing who he is fundamentally but not knowing how to break free from the confines of Heaven that stop him from truly embracing Crowley in the end, it's just so delicious.

#like does this make sense #they themselves are almost foils for eachother #you would expect Aziraphale to be the one struggling without Heaven but he's actually doing fine? #he doesn't even think about rejoining Heaven until Crowley's mentioned but him wanting to help Gabriel at all out of this vague obligation #its just like man he's still in there #and Crowley being completely done with heavan and hell but never truly finding out what that means for him #i hope this makes sense to people #idek if at this rate anyone will see this #my recent posts have been swallowed by the void it would seem but alas ill keep writing them #bi.f.shit #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens spoilers #good omens 2 spoilers #gos2 spoilers #ineffable divorcées #aziraphale #crowley #good omens meta #good omens analysis #ineffable husbands

[harbingersglory]

{☆} characters arlecchino {☆} notes drabble, fem reader, sub reader, transfem arlecchino {☆} warnings 18+ content, breeding kink, degradation, stomach bulge, dacryphilia, restraints

"Arle, hah..please. I can't– I can't wait any longer."

The pleading, almost pouty, words had her letting out a deep, husky chuckle as she fiddled with the buckle of her belt, admiring your body as she stepped up to the bed. Her knee sank into the mattress as she knelt down, pressing a placating kiss to your brow and gesturing for you to turn over.

"Come on, dove. Be a good girl, or I'll treat you like the whore you are." Arlecchino clicked her tongue, firmly grabbing your hands and tightening her belt around your wrists, giving the leather a firm tug to test its strength– and to make sure it wasn't too tight. "I'm in a good mood. Don't spoil it by being a brat, little dove."

The pout it drew from you made her grin, canines flashing beneath her lips as she settled in behind you, cupping your ass in her calloused hands with an appreciative grumble. Your panties were already sticking to your cunt, the fabric soaked. She couldn't help but drag one of her digits across the fabric, teasing your folds beneath it.

"Lucky I adore that pretty mouth of yours or I'd have cut out your tongue," She gruffly spoke, her tone neither in jest or too serious– perhaps she would, maybe she wouldn't. She liked to keep you on your toes. "Hm. Maybe I'll use your throat after– shut you up properly. You look so pretty gagging on my cock, you know?"

Arlecchino slid her fingers beneath the waistband of your panties, tugging them down just enough to see your slick cunt, her fingers pulling the folds apart. Fuck, she could feel her cock throbbing against her boxers at the sight– she'd never get tired of it, just like she'd never get tired of using you like a toy.

"But in the meantime.." She finally pulled down her own boxers, her aching cock slipping free and slapping against your thigh– she slid right between your thighs, forcing you to squeeze them together around her. "Fuck, that's it." She growled, pumping her hips a few times before she was satisfied, lining up her cock with your entrance.

She had the decency, at least, to sink in slowly at first..let you adjust to her size for a brief moment before she snapped her hips forward and sank fully into your cunt with a sharp hiss.

Arlecchino typically enjoyed teasing you first, making you practically beg just for her to give you her cock at all, but she had other plans tonight– she wasn't going to waste time playing around this time. Her hand slipped down to your stomach pressed against the mattress, a low chuckle building in her chest at the distinct bulge her cock left. It was a wonder she fit at all– but she'd make it fit even if she hadn't.

"Be a good girl now and don't complain." She grumbled, leaning down to press you down into the mattress with her body, nipping at your ear before she pulled her hips back, hissing at the way you clenched around her in response. She took a moment to sit there, letting you ruminate and squirm at the lack of movement– only to grab a fistful of hair and start pounding you into the mattress before you can even think to whine about her lack of movement.

How quickly, how easily, you turn into a blubbering mess as she uses you like a toy for her own enjoyment. Not that you won't enjoy what she has in plan for you– just maybe not as much as she does. The mental image of filling you with her cum..it drives her thrusts harder, faster. She wants to fuck you stupid with her cock, fill you to the breaking point until her cum pools on the sheets, unable to be fully plugged up. Just the idea of watching her cum dripping down your thighs makes her control slip just the slightest bit.

She's already big enough to bulge your stomach with every thrust, but she wonders if she can push it further.

She certainly wants to, and she intends to.

The fat tears rolling down your cheeks only got her more excited, her hands gripping your hips so tight she can already imagine the bruises in the shape of her fingers against your skin.

"That's it, dove, give in," Arlecchino hissed, a low growl rumbling in her chest as she continued to pound into them relentlessly, her thighs already stinging from the sheer force of it. "Fucking take it, you whore."

Her muscles flexed in faint restraint, the shifting of your arms against her as you nearly screamed at the intense rush of pleasure making her sink her teeth into your shoulder in warning– a futile effort, really, as your body twitched when you came so hard she briefly considered if she had to stop..but you were still moaning even through the tears rolling down your cheeks, rocking back into her thrusts weakly, unable to keep up.

She wasn't too far behind, either. Her teeth dug deeper into your skin, muffling the growl as she plunged into your soaking wet cunt, bucking into you in much shorter thrusts until she finally felt her cum spilling into you. It was almost enough to send her over the edge again– fuck, you were practically sucking her in with how tight you were, squeezing around her cock.

Her head slumped against your shoulder as she pulled her teeth from your skin, taking a moment of respite to catch her breath and let the sting and ache settle in deep– she welcomed it, if anything. But she wasn't done.

She was going to fuck you till you were full– fill you up until she couldn't fit another drop.

For now..she pulled out, admiring the way her cum dribbled out of you. She didn't mind all that much..she was going to replace it tenfold, anyway.

She couldn't wait to plug you up and see you squirm during the meeting tomorrow, full of her cum and unable to find relief– maybe she'd make it a toy, see how long you last before someone realizes what's going on. She was going to enjoy it thoroughly.

#genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin x reader #minors dni #writing tag #arlecchino smut #arlecchino x reader #so. um. yeah. we r not gonna talk abt this one I was feeling indulgant and shdhdgsjsjsjsj #arlecchino awakens smth in me idk dont ask me #i considered making this tmasc arle for a hot minute but ill save that for another day #anyway manspreading arle agenda thsnks 4 coming 2 my tedtalk #anyway² slamming hands on table arle breeding kink arle breeding kink arle breeding kink #technically no actual direct mention of breeding but shes still trying anyway #sorry im in an arle phade i need her to do unspeakable things to me yknow. you get me. #PHASE not phade its 3 am and i csbt sleep twirls hair #accidentally posted this draft premature im AHHHHHHHH #okay im fine now

[beatcroc]

there's no way the bathroom at peppino's pizza is actually that big but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ . hey ummm anyway.... i care them...... anyway there's a lil ramble on my take on fake pep's like psyche or whatever in tags on the og post if ur into that kinda thing :y

hey! it's a series! fake peppino world tour: [noise] [noisette] [peppino]<- u are here [gustavo] [gerome] [noisette again]

#ramble after realtags yeag. shoutout to serrangelic btw suggesting the silhouettes thing bc i would have Died otherwise #pizza tower #peppino spaghetti #fake peppino #gustavo and brick #arting #pizzaposting #so anyway i think fake peppino has like. a general awareness that he is supposed to Be Peppino and that he was Made to do that #and likewise he does generally try to...do that. the thing he does NOT realize is hes like really goddamn bad at it #not to be mean but like...c'mon. they are pretty distinctly different kinds of guys even beyond the physiology yknow. #he's neither on-brand nor fooling anyone dsjdsjjkgfsd. BUT! #since the rest of the cast generally likes him [at least as I play it] he thinks hes doing just fine #he's like 'oh they r happy with me so i must be getting a good grade in being peppino :)' #so getting told that 'yeah you actually really suck at that but that was never the reason people liked you' #and told that by og model peppino no less--yknow THE guy he's supposed to be living up to #who's already a bit intimidating for that and who ALSO totally wrecked him TWICE in the tower #making him acutely familiar with just how formidable the guy is and how much there IS to live up to.... #it's a Moment for sure. not really a sad or hurt one though. just... contemplative. #thinking abt people liking him for being the guy he's already naturally been being even though that guy is Not Peppino #i don't think he's gonna be super broken up about realizing he has a bad grade in peppino given everything else hes got now #nor do i really think he cares enough to go like reinvent himself or whatever after the fact #he seems to b pretty clearly having fun with it already so i think he just keeps doing that #and in some cases he still has the pre-installed peppino traits/instincts like to cooka da pizza. and that's fine #is this projection. yes. but if youve been following me awhile you know most of my character writing is ghdhfdgf #gonna kinda expand on all this in the gerome one which is...one after next. itll be a bit but man. #anyway peppino will never admit to anyone and especially not himself that he's gotten a little attached to the guy. hee hoo #pep tends to be kinda surly but he certainly has his ways of showing he cares. all of which are on display here #''that thing is not my son'' says man currently watching thing's antics with the 'bemused dad' arms crossed pose. yeah ok buddy. #gus is totally onto him already but hes not gonna say anything. #if u read all this ur prize is not having to go decode fp's rot13. his lines are ''meant to be you...?'' and ''wrong question.''

[radio-writes]

It's about time for your blood to spill + you should sleep + we were soulmates

(Congrats on the 300 followers btw!)

Now, The Echoes Interlace

300 Followers Event

Warnings: Blood, physical injuries to reader, ambiguous major character death(s), angst

Tags: Alastor x reader, gn reader, relationship can be read in any way

MDNI

"You always have looked so pretty in red, Al." You hummed as your combed your fingers through his soft hair. You pressed your fingers against his scalp, lightly massaging against his antlers.

The light static that varied in volume crackled. "Fuck you." Alastor managed to say as his head laid on your lap.

His smile was strained—present, of course, as it always was, but strained. The trail of blood from his mouth dripped from his chin, joining the warm pool under both your bodies.

"Rude." You scolded him. Your breath coming out in a hiss as Alastor dug his claws into an open wound on your leg. 

"Must you continue to hurt me? You're already dying." You glared down at him as you would at a misbehaving pet.

You leaned forward, easily removing his hand from your body without much of a struggle. He only had so much strength left after all. 

"Fuck you." Alastor repeated, static morphing his voice this time around.

"Yes, well, I get that you're mad, Al." You continued your casual tone. "But it was about time for your blood to spill, don't you think?"

You grunted as you leaned your back against the cold wall again, sighing as the tension on the wound across your stomach was lessened.

"F—"

"Fuck me, yes yes." You cut him off. "Save your strength or you'll die out faster."

Alastor didn't mean to listen to you, but he just felt far too tired to argue otherwise.

Your hand returned to his head, damp with sweat and blood, and yet somehow still so adorably fluffy. Leave it to this guy to still look so presentable even when dying a second time around.

Your fingers scratched at one of his tufts of hair, causing it to give a slight, involuntary twitch.

"So they are ears." Your voice was soft. "I always assumed but was never really sure, you know?"

Alastor didn't respond. His red eyes continued to glare at you.

He adjusted his hands to lay over his chest. A weak attempt to slow his loss of blood. He didn't even have enough energy to press on it anymore.

"Hey, Al." You wheezed, breath slightly knocked from you. You had adjusted the way you sat so the demon could lay more comfortably on your lap. "Do you remember how we first met?"

"You told me that cheesy pick up line. How'd it go again?" Your hand paused as you tried to remember. 

A rather dashing demon slid up to you at the bar; charming, sharp smile, on full display. You've seen all sorts of sinners by now, but none so happy while rotting in hell.

You expected him to sell you drugs, or quite bluntly tell you to sleep with him. What you got instead was a very corny: 

"You must be buried treasure, because I am absolutely digging you." You let out a tired laugh, hand continuing to pet Alastor once more.

The sound of static crackling again was the only response you got. You think it meant fuck you. 

"Well you must be treasure as well, Al. Because it seems I'll be burying you tonight." You met Alastor's harsh glare with a soft smile.

"What? That absolutely was funny, you can't deny it." You defended yourself.

Alastor didn't think him dying was funny at all, actually, but he didn't exactly have any energy left to say that.

His smile was a tight, close lipped one, but you see his lips try to curl just a tiny bit in what you assumed would have been a snarl. 

"You always thought I was hilarious." Your own hand moving over the gash on your neck as if it was a mild inconvenience. You titled your head as you looked down at the demon on your lap. "What changed?"

Alastor merely glared at you.

Your eyes traveled down his body, staying on the deep wound oozing across his chest.

"That's not fair, Al." You laughed tiredly, eyes staying on his bloodied torso. "I always thought you were incredibly handsome—sinfully so really. But your attempts at killing me never changed that."

"Fuck you." The static over his voice was gone now. His tone was as spiteful, angry, and condescending as always, but much, much weaker.

Your eyes drifted back to his face. His smile was still present, but his lovely red eyes seemed more unfocused than they were a second ago.

Your hand in his hair stopped their movements. For a moment, the world was still as you wondered if your company had already left.

But it was merely for a heart beat, as a ragged breath from his lips snapped time back into motion.

You pealed your fingers from his hair, bringing them down to softly rub your knuckles down his cheek. He doesn't so much as flinch, but, you knew he would have had he been able to.

"Hey, old pal." You cooed softly. "You should sleep, you look so very tired."

His fingers on his chest twitched once, but you didn't get much of a reply anymore after that.

You sighed heavily. Your hands rested on his face as you leaned your head against the wall behind you, face craned upwards to the red sky that covered all of Hell.

Your own eyes closed, realizing just how tired and weary you yourself were.

Still, you were never one to be silent around a friend—or foe. It had always been unclear to you when it came to Alastor.

"We were soulmates, wouldn't you say so, Al?" You continued softly. "But in a funnier way, I think, where we were always meant to destroy the other."

Alastor's skin felt as it always did beneath your fingers. The stench of blood heavy as it always was around him. You felt his familiar eerie presence by you, as you always did.

And yet, you were unsure if he actually was still there. You were quite conflicted about how you were supposed to feel about that, truth be told.

"Fuck you, old friend." You sighed, eyes remaining closed, smile tiredly stretching across your own lips.

#tw: physical injuries #tw: major character death #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #vien writes #follower event #they're fine #i think #maybe #ending left intentionally ambiguous for those at the back who don't actually want to kill Al #but also for those who do so i didn't expressly put if they were saved or not #anon really saw the event and thought #im going to kill this man :)

[icewindandboringhorror]

I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :

-

(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )

#tumblr polls #hrmm... a little poll perhaps.. about a subject I find interesting.. since this image came across my facebook today #still really not feeling that well. no longer shaking violently and such but I still feel weird and weak much more than usual #They did say my markers for like infection or inflammation were elevated but that they werent sure of the cause so hopefully #it's nothing too serious. they did also say a lot of different things can cause that thing to be higher than normal but didn't go into spec #fics of what. maybe some of them are relatively benign or something. I still havent felt much back to normal since #I got really sick that one time though. I feel fine on and off but then little bouts of feeling weird and sick happen. hrmmm #ANYWAY.. looking for small ways to be productive. such as little doodles on evil ipad or editing game videos #or posting polls or cat pictures or some other like not very labor intensive things #I WISH I COULD FOCUS on writing HHRGGhh... I need to finish my game.. it would be so freeing.. a project that's been looming #over my head for like 5 years even though througouht that 5yrs I've probably spent a total of 3 months working on it lo.. ANYWAY #I still partially really cannot beleive that people CAN see stuff in their heads. There's always part of me that's thinking like. well mayb #e everyone DOES see the same exact thing but we just describe/conceptualize it so differently that we think we're talking about #different things when we're really not. But I have been assured by people I've talked to about it that they can GENUINELY really see #stuff in their heads like as vivid as an actual picture in real life or something. And the other senses are neat too. Like for exmaple I #can hear in my head much better than I can see imagery. I still CANNOT hear vividly like as if I were listening to actual music out loud.. #but I think it's developed more than my sight. AND interesting how this varies the creative process. a friend I was talking to on the phone #said they write by literally just watching stuff play before them like a movie. where my process is COMPLETELY different. AND that affects #the content/what details we focus on as well as our individual styles of writing have differences that can be traced back to that.. hrmm

[morganbritton132]

It be so funny if they took Joan to soccer game and put her either in the team colour or a cheerleading outfit.

Great minds think alike because I was just thinking that we having checked in with Joan in a while so this problem is perfect.

Every Saturday for over a month now, Joan has watched the humans and Ozzy leave the house in the morning and come back hours later loud, smelly, and energized. She does not have a problem with this per se but if she had eyebrows, she’d raise one of them. She would raise the other when they’re all too tired to play with her for too long after they come back.

So, Joan makes a decision.

When the next Saturday rolls around and Steve is digging around in the drier for his jersey, she makes her case known. She whines. She meows. She gets in the way of every step. She commits a drive-by biting. She even gets in the storage closet in the hallway and knocks over the dreaded cat stroller so it falls into the hallway.

She makes it very clear. She wants to go.

Eddie coos at her, “Awe, baby, she feels left out. Let’s take her.”

“Ed, it’s hot outside,” Steve replies, gesturing to Joan. She rubs her head against his leg. “She’s gray.”

“Steve, don’t be racist.”

“I’m not being – how is that –“ Steve sputters and then rambles on about tiny bodies, and fur, and overheating in the sun, but Joan already knows she got her way. Steve can’t say no to Eddie and he can’t say no to her either. Plus, she always gets her way.

Her way is the right way.

Steve sighs and gives in, “But if she gets too hot, you have to take her home.”

As a reward for Steve and Eddie’s good decision-making, Joan helps them get ready to leave. She wiggles her way into the cabinet with the first-aid kit and pulls out bandaids. She leaves them inside Steve’s cleats. He says thank you when he finds them.

Ozzy huffs from where he’s laying in his dog bed.

Joan purrs when Steve pets her head.

Since Eddie disappeared down into his studio the moment Steve agreed to let her come, Joan continues ‘helping Steve.’ Mainly, she cleans up (eats) all the scraps of lunchmeat he drops when making sandwiches for him, Eddie, Robin, and Nancy.

Eddie immerges from the studio ten minutes before they’re supposed to leave with a hastily sewed shirt made for a cat. It’s made out of the soft material of the cheer squad t-shirts he made for the other team members’ partners. He presents it first to Steve and then holds it out to Joan like, “Ta-dah.”

Joan sniffs the fabric – it smells like Eddie – and Steve is just like, “Why did you make that?”

“Because Joan’s got to represent, Stevie. We’re a jock family now and jocks wear their team colors,” Eddie insists, grin getting bigger when Steve rolls his eyes at him. “Everybody else is wearing team colors. Even Ozzy. See.”

He gestures to the pin attached to his yellow service dog vest that says ‘#1 Steve Harrington Defender.’ It’s right next to a patch that says ‘If You Pet Me, You Are A Part Of The Problem’ which is… “That’s new.”

“Yeah, I’m solving all the world’s problems today, baby,” He grins. “Isn’t that right, Joan?”

She hisses at the shirt.

#Its always fun to write from Joan’s perspective #also I just love the idea of Ozzy being annoyed by Steve thinking her for helping when she’s not actually helping. He helps. All the time. #Joan’s just like: it’s fine if you go out but you better have enough energy to play with me when you come back #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson #Joan the disservice cat #Ozzy the service dog

[thebad-lydrawn-sanses]

How well are the 500 yr old grandpas w/ technology? I already know their asses write like founding fathers

Nightmare: Killer! how do you say "this meeting will be a waste of my fucking time, fuck you" in professional e-mail terms Killer: Thank you, Name. I appreciate the offer, but I would like to know what I contribute to the meeting before attending. Cheers, Nightmare Nightmare: <- uses text-to-speech and autocorrect

Ink: you spelled captcha wrong Ink: and how Ink: and frustrating Ink: adjectives go before the noun Ink: you used "fml" right though so good job Ink: oh, you're also texting. in case this was meant for a search engine Ink: <- being annoying on purpose

#nightmare sans #dream sans #ink sans #in Dream's defense Nightmare has had 500 years to learn to write in English and Dream #hasn't #Nightmare still hates typing and Dream's fine motor controls are messed up from spending 500 years encased in stone #Dream is trying to text Swap 'the stupid captcha is so frustrating fml' for the record #i don't actually know how to email professionally so in Killer's defense he had to come up with a line on the spot #queue

[buwheal]

BEACH OUTFIT 💥💥💥💥

He used to surf the web back in 98'.

#the clothes were so difficult for no reason i kept having to edit them #i actually really like this one lol #cunty uncle type thing going on #Also i love the HC that he as a plush tummy thats so cute and im stealing it #i was about to give him flipflops until i realized he cant do that #He had a dolphin print shirt but it looked ugly with the shorts and i really wanted the striped shorts lol #deltarune spamton #spamton #spamton g spamton #spamton fanart #deltarune #deltarune chapter 2 #i think it looks fine but still i hope it comes across he's resting his right arm on an invisible prop for the pose lol #there was a small little fella in the back of my mind who wanted to put him in a two piece but i couldnt sorry lmfao #edit: I forgot to write this out but I wanted to put it on any post bc i dont want to post a txt post just for this #but honestly he's gotta be some flavor of queer. #It doesnt matter to me which type all that much but I HC that even though he probably is #he has never been in a relationship and i dont think he ever will #he is so full of himself and he's kind of an ass tbh. That and i doubt he trusts anyone with what he's gone through #even if he got time to heal i dont think he'd ever trust someone enough to make a real relationship that way #Thats it thanks for coming to my ted talk #if you opened the tags here's your secret paragraph & im not sorry #BuwheArt

[wisteriagoesvroom]

GOOD GRIEF 😭 OSCAR FOR MCLAREN X REISS.... CAN YOU GET YOUR FOOT OFF MY NECK

source: mclaren ig stories

#oscar piastri #twinklaren #op81 #reiss x mclaren #once again regretting that i live in the tropics and i will never use the sherpa fleece thing cus it's actually pretty fly #last picture makes me feel a bit feral actually #and the leather jacket i am so so ill #if nobody is writing fics about him in the jacket immediately.... #*thanos voice* fine. i will do it myself #we NEED a picture of oscar in pink shirt #preferably in some funky sunglasses too god #lissie mackintosh #and we are not even gonna TALK about the fact that it is captioned #oscar piastri. formula 1 driver #HOT?!?!?

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 96

Part 1 Part 95

Mom makes him go home when he starts dosing on Steve’s hospital bed. But it’s okay because she kisses Steve’s cheek before she leaves, and Eddie and Wayne stay parked by his side. 

The connection’s easier now. It’s like all that time straining for Steve has snapped something into place. He can feel them all the time, a warm buzzing in his chest. He wonders if he runs hot now. If the warmth will diffuse through his whole being, make coats obsolete even in the dead of winter. 

Hopper is waiting for them in the waiting room, El burrowed into his side. She looks wan, and tired, drooping into her extravagant coat, eyeliner running down her cheeks like she’s been crying. Something inside him twists when he looks at her.

Before he can untangle that knot of emotion, Hopper stands up, both hands slapping against his knees first the same way Mike’s dad does before he gets up from his recliner. “You ready to go?” he asks, not looking away from Mom. 

When Will glances up, Mom’s smiling up at Hopper in a way he doesn’t want to think about. The adults talk quietly in front, leaving El to stumble tiredly along beside Will. She’s staring at the side of his face. Will can’t bring himself to look back. 

“Steve,” she says, sounding the word out and making it longer like it still tastes foreign on her tongue. “He is okay?”

When Will gets up the courage to look over, her eyes are big and worried. He smiles at her helplessly. It’s almost funny how innocent she looks; like she’s a bunny dressed up in punk clothes. “He’ll be okay.”

She smiles, small and close lipped, but it still beams out of her like the sun. Will tilts his head to the side and tries to see what Mike sees in her. He wants to hide her in Castle Byers, build a fortress around her, and keep her away from all the lab people for the rest of her life. 

Is that howMike felt, hiding her in his basement, giving her frozen eggos and keeping his mouth shut? 

But then her lips thin and she looks forward again. The feelings vanishes. It’s just El, hia friend, despite how much of Mike’s attention she’d snapped up just by being herself. 

“I’m glad,” she says, looking at Hopper’s broad back as she takes two steps for each one of his. 

It’s quiet after that, the way it always is after; all of them too brittle and bruised and bone-deep tired for conversation.

Hopper’s truck rat-a tat-tats itself to life in the hospital parking lot. The radio croons out something quiet and thrumming until Hopper reaches over to shut it off.

El’s heads smushed into the window, vibrating against the pot-holed roads of Hawkins.

Will’s so tired he’s wide awake. 

He watches the familiar buildings of Hawkins flicker by. It's been a long time since knowing his surroundings brought any comfort. 

Monsters could live behind every door, every tree, every smiling face.

He’s not sure any of them will ever feel safe again. 

Will closes his eyes, locking the scenery out so he can focus on the bundle of warmth in his chest. They’re still huddled together, two sparks merging in his chest. 

The past couple days have been a necessary violation of Eddie’s private feelings. He’d bared them all with love confessions and grasping hands, trying to pull Steve back from the edge of immolation. 

He’s not even sure Steve knows, hopes he does. Steve deserves to hold that love delicately between his palms and choose what to do with it. 

He won’t crush it, even if it’s unreturned. He’ll hold it gently like he always does.

Will doesn’t realize he fell asleep, or that they’d arrived home until he’s in free-fall. It feels like one of those falling dreams where you wake up solidly in the middle of your bed, but this time he really is tumbling, only Jonathan’s arms keeping him from hitting the gravel. 

“Are you okay?” he asks shakily as he pulls Will into his chest, holding him tight enough to hurt. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Mom murmurs, wrapping them both up in her arms, chin landing solidly on Jonathan’s shoulder, sandwiching Will between their bodies. “Everyone’s fine, right Will?”

Will murmurs his affirmation, feeling groggy and confused in the light of day. 

“I was with Nancy,” Jonathan whispers. “I was just with Nancy, and you were–I almost–”

“Shh,” Mom cuts him off, reaching up to cradle his face and smile up at him. Will barely catches the edge of his watering eyes from his restricted vantage point between them. “Everyone’s fine.”

“I should have been he–”

“Jonathan,” Mom interrupts again, sharper this time. “Everyone is fine. You deserve a normal life.”

“But Will–”

“I’m fine!” Will cuts in this time. 

Jonathan pulls back, looking down at him with worried, droopy eyes. “And Steve? Mike said he was possessed.”

Will feels that bundle of warmth in his heart, lets it shine through his smile as he looks up at his brother. “He’ll be okay.” As Jonathan droops with relief, Will feels his smile turn cheeky. “Eddie will never let you forget that you were on a date while we were fighting monsters, though.”

Jonathan closes his eyes, pained while Mom laughs. 

It’s not until they’re walking toward the front door that Will notices the lack of demo-dog bodies. There’s still puddles of black oil-slick blood, but everything else looks normal. Who covered their tracks? The lab? Hopper?

He settles down for the debrief, pillowing his head on Jonathan’s shoulder as Hopper’s even tones flit through his brain. 

Maybe familiar places no longer hold any comfort, but Jonathan’s bony frame is enough to lull him into a peaceful sleep.

Part 97

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren @canmargesimpson @bananahoneycomb @rainwaterapothecary @practicallybegging

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #will byers #steddie upsidedown au #my fic #Steve pov: I'm a wretch and a monster and everything is my fault #will pov: steve's so comforting :) #also Jonathan freaking out because he missed everything is something that is so fun to me. He's like. I'm a terrible brother! #Meanwhile Nancy only has low stakes in the whole thing. And she never got involved so by the time she knew to worry about Mike. #She already knew he was fine. so her main reaction is feeling left out. #Nancy is so fun in this AU because her inciting character incident (Barb's death) shapes so much of who she is #that we have like maybe one episode of characterization to work off of wrt what she was like before #anyway I'm sick so we'll see how much writing I can actually get done while feverish!

[wlw-cryptid]

I am once again thinking about having a big strong butch lay back in my lap to nurse after a long day

Telling them that I want to make Daddy feel better and pulling their hands to my chest, helping them pull my shirt away. They'd hum and humor me because not even whatever cool-headed calm exterior they put on will stop them from having their princess's heavy tits in their mouth, and I'd eagerly pull them closer. Once their mouth was full, I'd start start talking them through it. Telling them how good it feels in my soft, warm voice, telling them how much I love them. What a good daddy they are, what a good butch they are, how they take care of me like a good husband should. My body's here to take care of all their needs.

I'd go from holding their hand to rubbing their forearm to massaging over their hips, and their eyes would get heavy as they relaxed more and more into me. Sure I'd sigh and whimper and love how it felt, but my voice would begin taking on that other tone; the one that reaches into their mind and soothes all their thoughts down until they can only wait for what I tell them. Before they even realized it, they're preening at being called a good boy and I'm undoing their belt, slipping my hands under their pants and palming at their bulge. I coo about how hard they are, how sweet they are to me, asking them little things like "do I taste good, sweetheart? does that feel good?" just to make them nod and listen and obey more than anything else. When I stroke their cock through their nice black boxers, I want them to moan into my breast and whine out "more" and "please" until they can't take it anymore n remind me whose in charge

#anyways i got off thinking about this earlier #i just want to be taking care of daddy and Pretending like I'm being subservient as they actually drown in subspace #she speaks #i know this isnt fine writing but i wanted to share #it would be so healing to start a scene cooing for daddy. make them moan for mommy. n then switch back to them being in charge n mounting m #once theyre inside. coming back to their senses and me falling apart under them #i wish you all a very lactation kink. drink my milk and tell me how youll help me produce more #greatest hits

[lady-tortilla-chip]

I saw a rant about how the back and forth between Fyodor and Dazai is ridiculous at this point and like. I think that’s the point. The point is that one is not actually superior to the other in regards to intellect so they are ALWAYS going to be stuck in this cycle of ‘well I thought of/planned/predicted that!’.

The difference is in their connections and what those connections are made of. I find it fascinating actually that Fyodor thinks he’s won because he STOLE gravity away from Dazai and claimed Dazai didn’t even know how to use it when he had it! The thing is though, Chuuya doesn’t seem to be under Fyodor’s control anymore and he hasn’t ever chosen the people who try to use him like an object over Dazai. And despite the four years of separation (which was longer than their time together) he always came when Dazai expected him to.

And I’m thinking he expects him to now which would ultimately be what tips the scale in Dazai’s favor. Because where Fyodor sees a tool Dazai sees his partner. I’m also thinking Chuuya isn’t the only key to success here and that was why he chose Sigma too (if the points where he thinks about the ADA not using each other is any sort of foreshadowing).

#also actually I have some more to write on the differences between Fyodor and Dazai and how they see Chuuya specifically #also kinda obsessed rn with the idea of Sigma being what changes everything around ultimately #like yes Chuuya is there but if this actually IS some kind of entrance exam (which would be AMAZING) sigma will have to shine somehow here👀 #ALSO by he hasn’t ever chosen anyone over dazai before I mostly mean like #in the given situation where it was working dazai and getting to broader horizon of understanding or of choice he’s always chosen thay #and Dazai very much represented that especially in the beginning even if Chuuya ultimately being and staying with the Pm— #isn’t the greatest outcome for him #ANYWAY AM RAMBLING UPON THIS FINE MORNING #bungou stray dogs #bsd #nakahara chuuya #dazai osamu #Soukoku #Fyodor Dostoyevsky #BSD manga spoilers #BSD manga #BSD spoilers

[ghouljams]

currently Terminally In Love with your fae!Simon au, and it has resulted in some ✨Thoughts✨

so, the bond that’s between Simon and reader — we’ve seen how it functions as a kind of honing beacon that allows Simon to know if reader is being fucked with by any other fae who dare to touch what he’s laid claim to… but from what I could discern the mark reacted so violently and allowed him to come to reader’s rescue solely because it was reacting to foreign fae magic… does it work the same for physical, nonmagical harm?

(and further, asking for the girlies…. what would Simon feel through the bond if the reader were to die 😚)

So glad you asked because it means I get to do some horror stuff. The short answer is Ghost's mark doesn't react the same way to human danger, it just pings Ghost to let him know there's trouble. The long answer is, the mark is stupid and will lash out at anything that is scaring MC, which sometimes includes Simon. Most of the time it just functions as an alarm system, but there's an adjustment period when Simon sort of has to train it on who it's ok to bite.

You've been followed since you got off the train. He's not even being stealthy about it. You make a turn, he turns, you stop, he stops, always a few steps behind you. No one else seems to notice or care. You look over your shoulder and see the same crewneck, the same beady eyes. His lips curve red into a smile when he knows you spot him. Your chest is tight, you try not to look at him. You thought you were past this, always looking over your shoulder isn't a good look. Then again neither is being dead. Better to be paranoid and alive.

It's getting dark. You don't live that far from the station, at least you didn't think you did. Maybe it's fear making the street feel longer, emptier. You pick up the pace, hearing the sentiment echoed behind you. The thud of footsteps getting progressively louder and closer, until you're forced to sprint. The effort is wasted immediately as you're grabbed and dragged into the nearest alley. Your chest squeezes with fear, your heart pounding in your ears as you're thrown against the brick wall. The buzz under your skin expands and contracts with your breaths, trying to do anything but calm you down. You think it might actually be driving your anxiety higher, towards a full blown panic, as the man grips your arms tight and grins down at you. 

"Don't you know it's dangerous for little girls to wander alone at night?" He asks, he's close enough you can smell the alcohol on his breath. Your skin hurts where he touches you, bubbling with something you can't put a name to. The buzzing doesn't fit right, it slams against your ribs as you draw in shuddering breaths, there’s nothing for it to latch onto. You glance towards the mouth of the alley, the street was so empty, who would see you? This isn't right, he told you you'd be safe-

Something wet hits your face. The buzzing under your skin is reaching a fever, shaking you to your bones. You look up at the man, at the thick red and black mud falling from between his lips. He gives a wet cough. Your eyes drag to the black talons protruding from his chest, a hole punched through his ribs as if it were paper. The ribs themselves are warped outward and folded back away from the intrusion, more like wire than bone. You can't tear your eyes away from the sight, from the slick clawed hand dragging its way backwards through the viscera as you feel your buzzing start to move.

The silhouette that the collapse of your aggressor reveals is abyssal. Absorbing the shadows of the rest of the alley in a way you've never seen before. The air around it swirls with them. It's holding the man's heart in one clawed hand, tipping it's head back to swallow the organ whole. You are pretty sure you're having a panic attack. The abyss moves towards you like a ghost, and the buzz under your skin takes hold and forces you to MOVE.

The nose your fist collides with is startlingly human.

"You little bitch," Ghost snarls, making a grab for you as you sprint from the alley. Your feet slide against the sidewalk as you round the corner. The buzz under your skin rears back and strikes as his claws just miss you. "Not me you stupid-" he swears, you think he swears, you don't understand it but the buzz cowers. 

You don't stop. Not even when you pass the door to your flat. You run because you can hear him running after you, can hear the scratch of his claws on brick and concrete as he tries to grab you. The gouges that he leaves in everything he touches, you don’t need to imagine what he could do to you, you saw it. You catch a glimpse of him as you turn a corner, his teeth are bared, his movements wild and animalistic. 

His claws wrap around your throat, and you’re slammed into a wall for the second time tonight. He’s huge when he presses against your back, his chest expanding around his labored breathing in tandem with yours. You try to turn your head to look at him and he yanks your head back to stare at the stars. You both breathe, the night filled with the sound of your desperation. You swing your arm behind you to try and hit him, anything to make yourself more difficult prey. He catches your wrist easily and twists it behind your back, growling in your ear as he leans his weight on you.

“Not Me,” He tells you, it thrums through you like a universal truth, the buzz under your skin going warm and shivery, “You don't run from me. Not unless I tell you.” You nod, desperate to do something to ease your situation. “Good girl.”

His hand slides through your hair, fingers pressing to your forehead, and it all goes black.

You jolt awake shaking like a leaf. You press a hand to your mouth, choking down a sob. You’re terrified, it’s too dark in here, your skin feels like it’s been scrubbed raw, you feel like you’ve run a marathon. It must have been a nightmare, it must have been.

Simon turns on the light by the bed, woken up by your movements. “What’s wrong?” He asks, still half asleep. You shake your head, trying to get the shaking to stop. You feel like your body is trying to rip itself apart. Simon reaches a hand towards you and you jerk away, falling in a heap off the edge of the bed. You scurry away from him, you need distance, you need to get away from him. From the nightmare. Your back hits the wall as Simon stands. 

“What did I say?” His eyes tear holes through you, you press against the wall trying to make yourself small as he stalks towards you, “Not. Me.”

#tw stalking #nonconsensual predator/prey dynamic #i guess??? #Love's mark fucking BIT him #Fae!Ghost #being absolutely feral and scaring the hell out of Love #He'll tap her good so she forgets don't worry #do we all like the horror? Just me? Well that's fine I'm my own target audience #simon ghost x reader #reader x ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #this is something that will likely get heavy updates in the actual fic #because I worry it is too vague #hmmmmm perhaps I should write some ghost perspective stuff

[quinn-pop]

this is a joke but it’s also…almost the meaning of something in drafts

#posts that only make sense to me #kirbyposting #my art or something #meta knight #king dedede #metadede #quinn does comics #okay sorry for the mtdd flood this week i had a lot saved up and actually drew for once #im probably gonna try to do more writing…which is what this is about #maybe some more mags stuff soon #love walking the fine line between shitpost and almost serious