#at 19 i thought it was normal to be in pain. to cry. to not-like-it. that it should be perfunctory.

[inkskinned]

the thing is that they're so fascinated by sex, they love sex, they can't imagine a world without sex - they need sex to sell things, they need sex to be part of their personality, they need sex to prove their power - but they hate sex. they are disgusted by it.

sex is the only thing that holds their attention, and it is also the thing that can never be discussed directly.

you can't tell a child the normal names for parts of their body, that's sexual in nature, because the body isn't a body, it's a vessel of sex. it doesn't matter that it's been proven in studies (over and over) that kids need to know the names of their genitals; that they internalize sexual shame at a very young age and know it's 'dirty' to have a body; that it overwhelmingly protects children for them to have the correct words to communicate with. what matters is that they're sexual organs. what matters is that it freaks them out to think about kids having body parts - which only exist in the context of sex.

it's gross to talk about a period or how to check for cancer in a testicle or breast. that is nasty, illicit. there will be no pain meds for harsh medical procedures, just because they feature a cervix.

but they will put out an ad of you scantily-clad. you will sell their cars for them, because you have abs, a body. you will drip sex. you will ooze it, like a goo. like you were put on this planet to secrete wealth into their open palms.

they will hit you with that same palm. it will be disgusting that you like leather or leashes, but they will put their movie characters in leather and latex. it will be wrong of you to want sexual freedom, but they will mark their success in the number of people they bed.

they will crow that it's inappropriate for children so there will be no lessons on how to properly apply a condom, even to teens. it's teaching them the wrong things. no lessons on the diversity of sexual organ growth, none on how to obtain consent properly, none on how to recognize when you feel unsafe in your body. if you are a teenager, you have probably already been sexualized at some point in your life. you will have seen someone also-your-age who is splashed across a tv screen or a magazine or married to someone three times your age. you will watch people pull their hair into pigtails so they look like you. so that they can be sexy because of youth. one of the most common pornography searches involves newly-18 young women. girls. the words "barely legal," a hiss of glass sand over your skin.

barely legal. there are bills in place that will not allow people to feel safe in their own bodies. there are people working so hard to punish any person for having sex in a way that isn't god-fearing and submissive. heteronormative. the sex has to be at their feet, on your knees, your eyes wet. when was the first time you saw another person crying in pornography and thought - okay but for real. she looks super unhappy. later, when you are unhappy, you will close your eyes and ignore the feeling and act the role you have been taught to keep playing. they will punish the sex workers, remove the places they can practice their trade safely. they will then make casual jokes about how they sexually harass their nanny.

and they love sex but they hate that you're having sex. you need to have their ornamental, perfunctory, dispassionate sex. so you can't kiss your girlfriend in the bible belt because it is gross to have sex with someone of the same gender. so you can't get your tubes tied in new england because you might change your mind. so you can't admit you were sexually assaulted because real men don't get hurt, you should be grateful. you cannot handle your own body, you cannot handle the risks involved, let other people decide that for you. you aren't ready yet.

but they need you to have sex because you need to have kids. at 15, you are old enough to parent. you are not old enough to hear the word fuck too many times on television.

they are horrified by sex and they never stop talking about it, thinking about it, making everything unnecessarily preverted. the saying - a thief thinks everyone steals. they stand up at their podiums and they look out at the crowd and they sign a bill into place that makes sexwork even more unsafe and they stand up and smile and sign a bill that makes gender-affirming care illegal and they get up and they shrug their shoulders and write don't say gay and they get up, and they make the world about sex, but this horrible, plastic vision of it that they have. this wretched, emotionless thing that holds so much weight it's staggering. they put their whole spine behind it and they push and they say it's normal!

this horrible world they live in. disgusted and also obsessed.

#this shifts gender so much bc it actually affects everyone #yes it's a gendered phenomenon. i have written a LOT about how different genders experience it. that's for a different post. #writeblr #ps my comments about seeing someone cry -- this is not to shame any person #and on this blog we support workers. #at the same time it's a really hard experience to see someone that looks like you. clearly in agony. and have them forced to keep going. #when you're young it doesn't necessarily look like acting. it looks scary. and that's what this is about - the fact that teens #have likely already been exposed to that definition of things. because the internet exists #and without the context of healthy education. THAT is the image burned into their minds about what it looks like. #it's also just one of those personal nuanced biases - #at 19 i thought it was normal to be in pain. to cry. to not-like-it. that it should be perfunctory. #it was what i had seen. #and it didn't help that my religious upbringing was like . 'yeah that's what you get for premarital. but also for the reference #we do think you should never actually enjoy it lol' #so like the point im making is that ppl get exposed to that stuff without the context of something more tender #and assume .... 'oh. so it's fine i am not enjoying myself'. and i know they do because I DID. #he was my first boyfriend. how was i supposed to know any different #i didn't even have the mental wherewithal to realize im a lesbian . like THAT used to suffering.

[darkstar225]

@woso-fan13 Updated Masterlist

Updated: 04 January 2024

I have no clue why I did this, I just love this writer sm and wish I could check everything in one place since I keep re-reading the fics lol

PS: If the writer wants me to delete the post and send it to you so you'll post it, feel free to message me! I just love the fics and felt like doing this :D

It didn't fit everything so check out @woso-fan13 for the other masterlist with the rest S2

Sicktember 2023

Number 1: Hopelessly Bad at Self-Care

Number 2: Quest For A Cure

Number 3: “What Happened To Your Phenomenal Immune System, Huh?”

Number 4: Hiding an Illness

Number 5: Preventative Measures (Not Taken)

Number 6: Sick & Injured

Number 7: “You’re A Jerk When You’re Sick”

Number 8: Persistent Fever

Number 9: White Coat Syndrome

Number 10: “The Only Place We’re Going Is To The Pharmacy”

Number 11: Beginner’s Guide To Faking Sick

Number 12: Home Remedy/Old Wives Tale

Number 13: Anxious Stomach

Number 14: “I shouldn’t be worried about you, but for some reason I am.”

Number 15: Sick in an Inconvenient Place

Number 16: Consulting the Internet/Web MD

Number 17: Magical Remedy/ Healing Potion

Number 18: “Wear Your Coat, You’ll Catch a Cold”

Number 19: Curled Up With a Pet

Number 20: Cramping Pain

Number 21: “But if you stay, you’ll get sick too.”

Number 22: Terms of Endearment/Nicknames

Number 23: Coughing Fit

Number 24: “Did you just sneeze?”

Number 25: Confused/Disoriented

Number 26: Forehead Kisses

Number 27: Uncooperative Patient

Number 28: “I should have stayed home”

Number 29: Side Effects/Adverse Reaction

Number 30: Patient 0

WHUMPTOBER 2023

Number 1: “But now this room is spinning while I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps.”

Number 2: “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.”

Number 3: “Like crying out in empty rooms; with no-one there except the moon.”

Number 4: “I see the danger, It’s written there in your eyes.”

Number 5: “You better pray I don’t get up this time around.”

Number 6: “Do or die, you’ll never make me; Because the world will never take my heart.”

Number 7: “I paced around for hours on empty; I jumped at the slightest of sounds.”

Number 8: “I’ve got soul, but I’m not a soldier.”

Number 9: “Learning everything ain’t what it seems, that’s the thing about these days.”

Number 10: “Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?”

Number 11: “All the lights going dark and my hope’s destroyed.”

Number 12: “I haven’t slept in days but who’s counting?”

Number 13: “It comes and goes like the strength in your bones.”

Number 14: “Feed me poison, fill me ‘till I drown.”

Number 15: “I don’t need you to help me, I can handle things myself.”

Number 16: “Would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

Number 17: “You’re the lump in my throat and the knot in my chest.”

Number 18: “I tend to deflect when I’m feeling threatened.”

Number 19: “I’ll take one final step, all you have to do is make me.”

Number 20: “People don’t change people, time does.”

Number 21: “See the chains around my feet.”

Number 22: “They never saw us coming, ‘til they hit the floor.

Number 23: “It’s gonna get me by the end of the night.”

Number 24: “I’ve got a head full of chemicals; mouth full of ridicule.”

Number 25: “You’re not delivering a perfect body to the grave.”

Number 26: “Sometimes I get so tired; I don’t even know myself.”

Number 27: “You drew stars around my scars; But now I’m bleeding.”

Number 28: “We might not make it to the morning; so go on and tell me now.”

Number 29: “I only sink deeper the deeper I think.”

Number 30: “It’s okay, just to say, ‘I’m not okay’.”

Number 31: “I thought that I was getting better.”

Comfortember 2023

Safe

Sweater Weather

Leaves Changing

Warmth

Treehouse

Notes

Sick/Illness

Grief/Mourning

Aftermath

Sadness

Comfort Show/Movie

Dreams

Baking

Late Night Phone Calls

Plushies

Coffee/Tea Break

Heirloom

Cuddles

Loved Ones

Shopping

Relapse

Cry

Anxiety

Blankets

Rain

Friends

Soup

Flashbacks

Sleepover

The New Normal

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt players #uswnt imagines #uswnt woso #uswnt reader #woso x reader #reader insert #x reader #woso imagine #woso soccer #womens soccer #woso #masterlist

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demo || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 19

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 19: magic or not

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

I was left alone.

No amount of screaming or silence got anyone's attention. The pain contorted my body, my veins pulsing like needles, and spine spasming. I slammed the back of my back against the wall to get the headband off but it did nothing. There was nothing vital on that side to make it break or fall off. It only made my head hurt more.

Tears streamed down my cheeks until I had no energy left, slumping to one side against my arm. My body twitched and convulsed, but I had no energy left to do anything about it. My vision darkened as my lungs lacked precious oxygen.

Something stirred inside me. It felt like a thread being unwrapped. It was magic related, I could tell, but I didn't know what exactly was happening to me. I worried what would happen next but there was nothing to do except wait.

The feeling happened again. It was in the back of my mind, as if it wasn't actually part of me. I wondered if it was supposed to be freeing but it didn't quite have that effect. It tickled the inside of my mind and body, nothing else.

I thought back to Alastor. I might end up killing us both. Why was I always failing? I had been successful my entire life up until I met him. I had defeated all my opponents yet now I barely managed to kill a single powerful Demon. It took so much effort just to kill Striker and he wasn't even a true Overlord.

I thought to when I first tasted his blood in the kitchen. I could almost feel his hands in my hair again, gently tugging on it to get me to stop. I remembered dancing with him in the living room. He had held true to his promise and hadn't made fun of me. He had finally revealed parts of himself and his past.

I remembered when he kissed me. I remembered how warm I had felt. His lips had been oddly soft and his earthy scent made me feel like I was supposed to be there, supposed to be next to him.

Guilt gnawed at me. He had probably been honest. He was probably telling me the truth when we were talking after the fact. Had he actually fallen in love with me? When had that happened?

I remembered his hand on my shoulder as we argued with the Vees. I had felt confident with him there. Even when Vox taunted him, I still felt somewhat confident. The two of us. Together. If people feared me as much as they feared him, I would never find myself in this kind of situation again. People would never come near us or the haven.

Yet here I was, trapped and helpless. All from my own doing. And now I would lose Reagan because of it.

As much as I hated needing him, I wished Alastor was here to help.

As if hearing my plea, he melted out of my shadow and came to stand in front of me. I felt his cold claws lift my face as the headband broke into pieces. It clattered to the floor and my magic gradually came back. Alcine finally came out of my normal shadow.

"Blood," I murmured. An instant later his black blood touched my lips. I lazily ran my tongue along the cut on his palm and tried to bite down, but failed. My physical energy was still gone. My jaw was weak from clenching it so tight for so long, making it next to impossible to press my teeth further into the wound.

He attempted to make it deeper, the blood falling faster, but even my tongue and lips couldn't move very fast. My arms suddenly dropped from the chains and I let out a cry of pain. I fell back against the wall, foot claws sliding out from underneath, still shackled to the floor.

My head lolled to the side and if it wasn't for his hand I would've fallen over on my side. I tried calling on the shadow souls for energy but it was as slow as my physical movements. Just breathing hurt.

"My apologies dear." His other hand lifted my chin as his presence went straight through my shields and filled my entire mind with him. Green filled my vision as his hot magic seeped into my veins. His magic blended with mine, twisting and melding it into something else.

I didn't realize until I felt his blood soothing my aching throat that he was kissing me. His own blood pressed through his teeth and straight into my mouth. My body lurched forward as the combination of all kinds of magic took hold of me. My body buzzed with our shared energy as a magenta color spun around us.

He broke the kiss and I snapped the chains off my feet. I pushed off the wall with newfound energy. Anger coursed through me as Blackwater opened the door, his shadow stretching across the floor to sit at my feet.

Alastor's shadow suddenly disappeared and half my energy went with it. What just happened? I leaned on Alastor for support as he bristled at the new threat.

"Nice to finally meet you, Alastor." He closed the door behind him but didn't come any closer. Something was wrong. My magic was gone as quickly as it had been gifted back. I could feel Alastor's magic just out of reach, too.

"Blackwater, I presume." Alastor spoke as if nothing had happened, as if his magic wasn't just striped from his fingers. His glaring eyes paired perfectly with his smile.

"You'd be correct. Like my new invention?" He raised his hands to the ceiling. "Why be restricted to just a headband when I can turn it into a whole room? Now, we're just two equal men."

"I'm afraid magic isn't what puts you on the same level as someone," Alastor answered. "You have yet to prove yourself as my equal, and I'll have you know, no one has gotten there."

"Not even your precious soulmate?" He nodded his head to me, hands back in his pockets.

Alastor's grip on my shoulder tightened. "You have my attention, Blackwater. So what would you like to do with it?"

The man let out a chuckle. "Keep you out of my way." He threw his hand out of his pocket and sent a blaze of fire at us. We both pushed the other away as the fire split us, the flames nearly reaching the ceiling. Alastor used his cane to stand up and face Blackwater.

I ran at the man first but he casted wind to throw me back against the wall. A small crack popped in back as I slid to the floor. How was he using magic but ours was gone? How was he even using magic at all? He wore no metal backpack.

Alastor's form was entirely black through the flames, smile wicked and wide open as Blackwater casted again. I stayed on all fours and ran along the edges of the room. It caught Blackwater's attention long enough for Alastor to move. The man threw me head first into the wall before Alastor managed to impale the back of his shoulder with his claws.

Blackwater cried out and casted water over Alastor's head. He wrenched his claws out of Blackwater's body and tried to bat the water away. It stayed wrapped around his head, preventing him from breathing.

World spinning, I pushed off the wall and threw my body into his legs. He fell backwards over me and slammed his head into the floor. I closed my eyes to keep myself from getting sick, grabbed at his coat, and buried my claws in his leg.

He screamed and casted fire at my face. Alastor just barely managed to pull me back by my collar. The heat grazed my face as I fell back on top of him. I shook my head, world orienting itself right, and watched Blackwater struggle to his one good foot.

I got back on all fours and zig zagged. I jumped over the casts of fire and went his wind, using its momentum to move faster along the edge of the room. Alastor grabbed his cane before moving towards Blackwater. His main concern was obviously Alastor as he ignored me to cast at him.

I jumped for his feet again, sliding across the floor and knocking him down a second time. I stood up against the door, barely avoiding the wave of fire he casted up. He rolled onto his feet, hands up again.

Alastor pointed his cane at Blackwater but did nothing. They stared at each other, both breathing heavily from the fight. I looked to the door that was partially melting away. I took one step back and threw my body into the lower half.

It folded against my weight and I slipped out the hole. My magic immediately came back to me like fresh air. I quickly casted an illusion on Blackwater to allow Alastor time to snake out of the room.

Something cold wrapped around my throat and hoisted me to my feet. Alastor froze in place as he eyed the person restraining me.

"Don't come any closer!" Finn yelled in my ear. He took several steps back then held a knife right over my heart. "It'll end you both. Don't test me!"

I noticed Alastor's shadow on his wrist before he did. The shadow pulled his hand away from my heart and threw him over the railing. His yell was cut short when he landed on something that splintered apart.

Alastor raised his hands and the sound of large metal screeching echoed through the warehouse. I could feel exactly what he was doing with his magic. The earth opened its mouth and was slowly swallowing the entire building. He punctured gas pipes and lit them aflame, casting everything in a huge, hot orange fire.

"Reagan. Reagan!" I looked around the warehouse. Where did he take her? Where was he? We both turned to see the room empty save for puddles of blood.

Then I heard Reagan. I heard her yelling my name and pounding on a door. I followed the sound, avoiding the collapsing metal beams and blowtorched gas lines. My entire body was sweating and muscles aching.

I found the door she was hitting on. I bent the metal door handle and yanked it open. She immediately wrapped her arms around me, nearly sending us over the railing like Finn. I enclosed her in my own arms and accepted Alastor's hand.

He took us through the shadows far away from the warehouse. Reagan refused to let go of me even once we touched the ground. Alastor looked through the trees and bent the building further into the chasm he had created, the earth successfully swallowing it whole.

Then all was silent.

Alastor kept his gaze on where the building had been. Reagan kept her arms wrapped tightly around my waist. I kept my eyes on Alastor's back and my hand on her shoulder.

"Alastor," I breathed. His ear twitched and he turned his head just slightly to look at me over his shoulder. "Thank you."

He glanced at the now empty clearing. "A thank you is in order for you, as well." He finally turned to face us, eyes briefly looking at Reagan's crying form. "I will send you two back. I must stay here a while longer."

I nodded, understanding perfectly why he needed to do that. He reached over to push a collection of hair out of my face, knuckles gently grazing my cheek. A moment later, we were back in the center of the Haven.

****

Blackwater pushed everything he had into the latch. It groaned open, weeds snapping and dirt crumbling into the manhole. He put a knee up on the surface and leaned into his shoulder to open the latch the rest of the way. He fell forward, cheek hitting the soft grass.

He laid like that for a while, pain radiating through his chest and shoulders. His team of six were all nursing their own injuries back to health.

"You alright, sir?" Finn knelt beside him. He accepted the help to sit up, groaning as he did. "What do we do now?" He helped Blackwater shed his bloodied coat. The sacks of blood taped on the inside were empty now, one of them with claw sized holes. Finn carefully took the tubes out of the back of Blackwater's arms and tossed the mess to the side.

"We recover and try again." Blackwater held a hand over his heart despite the pain being in the back of his shoulder. How close had Alastor been to impaling his heart from behind?

"I need a scout," Finn ordered, looking to see who was the least injured. One of his arms was completely immobile and he was holding himself up at a funny angle, probably from the fall.

Blackwater wasn't one for accepting help, let alone working as a team rather than as a command. Yet he was grateful to have Finn with him. The man had joined him when he was just a teenager and has never come back from a job empty handed or unsuccessful in some way.

Finn ordered the scout to run to the nearest village to get contact. The nearest Blackwater asset would send a team with magic to come get them. They just had to last until then.

It was well into the afternoon by the time their team arrived. He had lost two men in the meantime. The healer fixed Blackwater first before moving to the others who were still alive.

He stood up and snatched a phone from the nearest person, tossing it into Finn's lap so he wouldn't fumble it like he did with Python's blood.

"Get the damn doctor on the phone," he ordered, turning to look at the injured group. "Tell him his timeframe just got shorter."

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

Author's Note:

Alakazam!

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

Taglist:

@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine

#demi demon #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #soulmate au #soulmates #hazbin hotel #reqs open

[stvolanis]

Pretty Stars

PT .1

PT .2???

PAIRINGS: Elvis Presley x Rival! Rockstar! OC

WARNINGS: EATING DISORDERS, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, EXPLOITATION, MENTIONS OF ABUSE, inaccurate time lines probably, this is more depressing than my other stories, age gap (OC is 19 and Elvis is 23), foul language, Elvis is an asshole but so is OC, typical rivalry things, enemies to lovers

NSFW WARNINGS: NONE, it will all be in part 2 if this does well :)

Don’t be shy, request something!!

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

Rosalee Marziel worked her ass off to get where she stood today, and she’d die before she let some stupid boy ruin it for her.

She’d lived in cities since she was a toddler, and growing up in such a hostile place causes you to realize that no one will help you but you. It took her losing her mother, her extended family, and a few boyfriends and flings to realize this. Once she had nothing, and was at rock bottom, of course she’d sign her life away. What more did she have to lose when everything was already lost?

The 1st amendment no longer felt like it applied to Rosalee. She was stripped bare of her former self, and instead embodied a new persona, Rose Marz. Rose Marz was confident, selfless, bold, and had no problems making a statement. She was a music, movie, and fashion icon all the way past France.

Truth was, she’d been groomed since she’d signed her life away when she was only 15. Groomed by the men around her who only wanted the greatest pleasures of life, and naive Rosalee Marziel was their ticket to that. ‘Wear less, and more of this’ they’d tell her as they held up skimpy playboy sets. She was 16. ‘More makeup, she’s aging.” They’d tell her makeup artists. She was 17. By the time she had reached 18, she’d corrected every little flaw they had pointed out. She spent hours covering acne scars, moles, and stretch marks.

She’d powder and cake herself in flawless natural makeup, which wasn’t so natural once you’d watch her apply a ton of it. She formed an eating disorder and lived off of eating Cesar salads with extra grilled chicken, and even then, she’d sometimes feel herself become sick. The smell, taste and feel of food made her vomit in her mouth. So, when she went to ball events, charity event, etc.; she’d stick to a glass of water and give tight lipped smiles when offered a plate of appetizers.

You’d think oranges were her favorite fruit, but she’d only eat them when she’d gain a pound or 2. Her stomach pains sometimes became unbearable, but beauty is pain, or at least that’s what her producers would tell her with money on their tongues. Sometimes she swore instead of feeling spit when they’d speak to her, she felt hard and cold coins. God forbid they found out she’d eaten that day, the comments would strike up.

The ones that formed her eating disorder in the first place. The ones that make her cry herself to sleep and curl into a ball. The ones that made her weep for her dead, junkie of a mother. The ones that made her throw up her insides till her stomach felt like it was trying to eat itself. And the ones that made her wanna not wake up the next day.

Roses first gig was a lousy bar her old manager booked for an hour. It’s one she’ll never forget, I mean, it’s what sparked her love for preforming in every sense of the word. On stage, she didn’t have to be the broken shell of a little girl, especially not when she heard people cheering her name. The rush of adrenaline shot into her veins was addicting and was a high she’d strive to chase any moment she could. In those first moments, she felt like her body was on fire, and the words slipping from her mouth held every ounce of raw emotion she would never normally say.

She had something other rising female preforms didn’t have, and that was a genuine love for music. They didn’t have the same spark in their eyes like she did. They weren’t passionate about the lyrics they wrote or sang. The only reason they were famous was because of their sex appeal.

Climbing the ranks in a male dominated industry wasn’t an easy task by any means, but Rose managed to do it. She sunk her perfectly manicured claws into their backs to rise herself to get to where she was today. Past Carl Perkins, past Johnny Cash, even past Jerry Lee Lewis. She was at the top of her game.

Showered in every luxury she could imagine. Queen worthy jewelry, the latest and hottest cars, 3 mansions and 10+ houses stationed all around America. Her favorite house was stationed all the way in Milan, Italy. She had an endless list of ‘friends’ and men throwing themselves at her feet for even a glance, but she wasn’t naive anymore. She could see right through them with the x-ray vision she swore to herself she had.

Hell, even the Kennedys loved her.

But none of it was ever enough. None of it made the throbbing pains in her head, chest, and stomach stop. It didn’t stop her from taking nearly lethal amounts of pills on her roughest days in hopes that just maybe she’ll find the courage to take a little more.

Rose was never satisfied with the life she had. And when they started throwing her in movies alongside people she didn’t care to know, she nearly lost herself. Rose? An actor? That couldn’t be right. She was a singer. But it’s what her fans wanted, which means it’s what her producers would make her do.

She was sure her fans adored her, and she was grateful that they did, but a small part of her detested them. A small part of her had wished she’d never became famous. If she knew this would be her at only 19 years old, she would’ve ran away from that man with a few papers and a pen all the way to across the globe. But she could never bring herself to hate the people who got her to where she is today.

They are the only reason she’s able to live the way she does, after all. Those little girls who look up to her, dreaming of being in her shoes and, wishing to be like her when they get older and cheering her on from crowds will always be the reason she continues to preform. But how badly she wanted to cradle them and tell them ‘careful what you wish for.’ Because she wishes someone had told her.

Though she was at the top of her game, there was still one large obstacle in the form of a southern man.

Elvis Presley.

No matter how many movies she starred in, or how many songs she made—no matter how many awards she won and was nominated for, he always somehow managed to beat her. Not to mention the constant comparison she was always faced with when I came to him. ‘Elvis does this better’ her manager would start. ‘So you need to do this’. He’d say.

I learned how to dance, and Elvis was the star of a dance musical called ‘Copacabana’ the next day. I mentioned i knew how to draw, and all the sudden Elvis’ art was plastered in museums. The list goes on and on of him trying to out-do her an coming out successful. Naturally, Rose wouldn’t care, but at the end of the day it was her having to hear her entire management team on her ass. One time her producer even phoned in about it.

It was a constant battle between the two and it seemed like an endless cat and mouse game. Not to mention Elvis throwing loads of shade at her when he was in the press a few weeks prior. Since then, anytime she’s been asked about their ongoing rivalry in the press, she’s said the upmost worst things about him. If it was any other A list celebrity, her manager would have her head, but it was the 2 most hottest people in America going head to head like bulls. Obviously it would make both parties become a more popular subject, and the more publicity, the better.

And now they want Elvis and Rose to preform together for a Valentines special? Hah, they must be crazy to think they wouldn’t claw each others throats out. Rose had never dared to protest against anything her producers and managers had planned for her—the last time she did she was beaten. But this—this is the one thing she wouldn’t go down without a fight for. After a good year and give or take a few months of going against each other, why would they now want them to make amends? The damage had already been done.

Rose was fortunate enough of never having to actually meet the man talking the upmost shit about her in person, till now.

As she sat in her dressing room, she could swear her makeup was sweating itself off, resulting in her panicking. Her eye makeup was dark and bold, and her lips were a faded cherry red. The dark mole above the corner of her lip just barely peeking through her pounds of foundation. Her hair was was naturally a brunette, but her main manager thought blonde would be a better look on her. So now she sat with her blonde hair teased and overly large, adorned in pink and red flowers to match the Valentines theme.

Rose felt her confidence begin to dwell as she thought of every possible terrible outcome this show could bring. Her brows furrowing as she applied setting powder aggressively while thinking of beating that stupid man, Elvis Presley, to a pulp if he tainted her imagine in any way, shape, or form.

A knock on her dressing room door brought her out of her thoughts. “Miss Rose, it’s almost time.” An annoying feminine voice said from behind the door. Rose huffed as she got up. “Alright, give me a moment.” She yelled back as she began to dress herself.

They’d chosen a white, tight fitted turtle neck long sleeved shirt for her to wear, paired with a short, light pink dress to go over it and a large white belt fit around her waist to seem more slim. The knee high white leather boots and different shades of pink and red heart earrings pulled the whole look together as she stared at herself in the long mirror in front of her.

She smoothed her hands down her dress as she took in a long breath of air before she finally found the courage to leave her dressing room.

When she stepped out, the narrow backstage hallways parted like the Red Sea at her entrance. Her manager, a short old man with the personality of a donkeys ass, stumbled his way over to her.

“Ah, Rose! There you are, come.” He said urgently as he tightly gripped her upper arm. Rose didn’t get a chance to respond, and instead winced as she was dragged along with him to wherever he was taking her. Their walk wasn’t long as they stopped at a tall man with his back turned to them.

“Mr. Presley.” Her manager coughed out, making his prescene known. Rose fought an eye roll. The man turned around and Rose swore her jaw could’ve dropped right then and there. The pictures and interviews did him no justice, as he was even more good looking in person, much to Roses dismay. Nonetheless, this god of a man was still her biggest rival and the only person stopped her from being deemed ‘queen of rock n roll’ on every cover of The Rolling Stone Magazine

Screw him and his charming smile. She hated his stupidly perfect hair—and she wanted to pull the little strand hanging out on the front out of his head. She wanted to punch him in his perfectly chiseled jaw, and same with his nose. She didn’t like the fact that he easily towered over her, even in heels, so she thought about kicking him in the back of his knees to bring him to the ground where she thought he belonged— below her.

Elvis on the other hand felt his breath get caught in his throat and her nearly dropped the cup of water held in his hand. There she stood, in all her terrorizing glory, was Rose Marz. But Elvis’ eyes couldn’t help but linger on the chubby fingers tightly wrapped around her arm, almost in a painful manner.

How could this little thing be his biggest competition? She was so small. So pretty. So- “fuck you.” So vulgar. That was the first thing she’d ever said to him, and he’d remember it for the rest of his life. He would’ve been offended if it wasn’t for the fact that she was so damn cute with her furrowed brows and pouty red lips.

Her managers face went pale as a ghost. “Aha!! She meant hello!” He nervously laughed as he glared at Rose through the corner of his eye. The small girl let out a huff. “Elvis.” She acknowledged, sizing him up with a quirked brow. He felt a chuckle rumble deep in his chest.

Rose turned her head downward to hide the blush creeping onto her cheeks at his intense gaze, even as he talked to her manager. “That’s quite alright, Mr.Smith. How ya doin, Rose?” He said in that southern draw that made all the girls’ head spin and panties drop. Now Rose understood why, but she would never admit it aloud.

“Terrible since I seen you.” She said with an eye roll. Elvis pursed his lips. “I’m real sorry ‘bout what I said in the press about ya.” He replied with a nervous chuckle. Roses head shot up at that. “Liar!” She called out with a pointer finger.

“Jesus, Rose! Can’t you act civilized for one damn moment?!” Her manager screamed in her face. Rose went beat red in embarrassment, her hands clenched into fists. The old fat man looked at her pointedly. “Excuse my behavior, Mr.Presley.” She said through clenched teeth and false smile.

Elvis pondered for a moment as he took in the situation before him, before coming to a conclusion. “Lemme take ya to dinner to make up for it, Rose.” He said. Something boyish was swirling in his eyes and a certain hope was in his small smile he sent her way. Rose opened her mouth to reject his offer, but it seemed her manager had other plans. “Yes, of course she’ll go!” He answered for her.

Elvis merely glanced down at the obnoxious fat man. “I’d like for her to answer.” He stated with a glare. Rose paused. No one had ever stood up for her like that. No one batted an eye when people would yell at her, grab her, or even beat her to a pulp. She didn’t know what to think—or even how to act.

Her mouth was hung agape as he awaited her answer. “I—uh, sure.” She responded—seemingly in a daze as she gazed up at the taller man. His eyes danced all across her face before stopping at the mole she tried so desperately to hide. “Tomorrow night.” He said before his eyes snapped up to meet hers again.

Rose, absent minded, merely nodded her head.

“You’re on in 5!” Someone shouted over the loud backstage ruckus. That caught Roses attention as she quickly smoothed herself out and took in a deep breath. Elvis reached his hand out towards her. “Shall we?” He asked with a smirk.

Rose rolled her eyes as she slapped his hand away. “Let’s just get this over with.” She replied as she turned quickly away from him.

But Elvis didn’t miss the blush on her cheeks.

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

this wasn’t proofread

#70s elvis #elvis presley #elvis presley fandom #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x y/n #elvis x oc #elvis x reader #elvis fans #elvis presley fic

[sleepy-gee]

famine┊vampire!coryo/sejanus┊chapter one┊fic navi┊playlist

coriolanus wakes up in dr. gaul's office with a splitting headache, and no idea of what happened to him. little does he know, his world just got rocked.

word count: 1.6k

trigger warnings: needles/injections, emetophobia (one mention)

The first thing he noticed when he finally came to was just how much he ached. The ache was like nothing he had ever experienced before. Sharp pains punched through his gums, followed by waves of extreme nausea that rolled over his entire body. He couldn’t seem to stop shaking. Every time he opened his eyes, the throbbing in his head turned into something sharper.

He lay in Dr. Gaul’s office, drifting in and out until a sharp prick in his forearm seemed to bring him back to reality, later followed by relief.  The throbbing in his head and gums still persisted, but at least he could open his eyes. He half expected to be back in his room, woken up by the refreshing sight of Tigris running her slim fingers through his hair. “How are you feeling, Coryo?” She’d ask with her smile that instantly would calm him.

Instead, he was met with the sour sight of one of Dr Gaul’s assistants, an ugly ginger with freckles across his cheeks that were far too dark for his skin. “Ah, good! You’re awake.” He leaned in closer. The throbbing in his head got worse. Coriolanus cringed as he caught a waft of his breath. The ginger scribbled down something on his clipboard. “Dr. Gaul wanted me to ask you a few quick questions before she came in. Think you can do that for me?”

“Yeah, just.. Talk quietly.” And as far away from me as possible.

The assistant ignored his request, speaking in an obnoxiously loud and cheery tone. “Number one, what’s your name?”

That’s easy. “Coriolanus Snow.”

“Good. Number two, your age?”

Were they all this bland and easy? “18. Soon to be 19.”

“Number three, can you name everything you can smell right now?”

What the hell? These questions weren’t so bland, it seemed. “Uh.. I’m not sure. Maybe.. Some sort of disinfectant. Your breath, and my own. Something.. Irony. Something warm, too..” He trailed off. Were smells always this pungent, now that he thought about it?

The ginger scribbled down his answers. “Number four, same thing, just with sounds.”

“Besides us, I can hear the vents.. Breathing.. A dull thumping.. Like a..  Like a…”

“Like a heartbeat?” The assistant finished for him. 

“.. As a matter of fact, yes. I hear.. A few..” Coriolanus’ eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Alright..” The assistant looked up from his notes, giving the boy an obnoxious smile. He had something green wedged between his two front teeth. Blegh. “The doctor will be here momentarily!”

Coriolanus nearly sighed in relief when the ginger left. That small interaction alone left him feeling overwhelmed, but not in a normal manner. It was almost like hunger. Almost. He’d learnt to block out the sensation of it long ago. But this? This was.. Something new. Something different. An angry blaze that he could barely contain.

He flinched when Dr. Gaul entered the room, body tensing up almost on instinct. Like he was about to strike. But he knew better. An attack would just get him in trouble. Wait, why did he want to physically attack her?

“I know you must have many questions-”

He cut her off. “What the hell happened? Why am I here, and why do I feel so weird? What did you do to me?”

The doctor squinted her mismatched eyes. “Your memory deteriorated more than I thought it would. If you must know, Mr. Snow, you signed up for this yourself.

His heart nearly stopped. Did this to myself? Why would I ever want to endure such a thing?

“Hm.. You might need something to help kickstart your memory.” She pulled a large hypodermic needle out of her pocket, filled with a translucent orange liquid that sloshed around with the consistency of water. 

“Don’t touch me-” Coriolanus hissed as she approached his bed, crying the phrase out again when she grabbed his arm. The doctor persisted, plunging the needle into his forearm and pressed down on the plunger. His skin burned at the touch, protesting whatever she had injected in him. His stomach churned, nausea resurfacing again, before he found himself slipping unconscious.

***

Who knew a flier hanging on a wall in the main foyer would catch his attention so easily? “Donors and volunteers needed,” it read. “Will be paid generously. Contact Dr. Volumnia Gaul if interested.” What did Dr. Gaul need volunteers for? Didn’t she have enough rats working in her lab? It must’ve been big if she needed anything more. Normally, he’d never subject himself to something as humiliating as volunteer work, but the prize money was captivating. 

He needed a second opinion, though. Normally, he’d speak to Tigris about something like this, but he already knew her opinion would be worthless. Self preservation was one of her strong suits. It was a strong suit of his, too, but with the way money was so tight? Some self sacrifice wouldn’t hurt. Maybe what he was looking for was reassurance, and there was only one student who gave it for free at the Academy-

Sejanus Plinth.

He confronted the boy at lunch, sitting in front of him. It wasn’t hard to find him, the boy always hung close to the sidelines, wanting to avoid being ridiculed. You’d think people would grow up and accept the fact that he was district already, but they still gossiped about it like he had moved here yesterday.

“Sejanus,” he greeted politely, earning a startled nod from the other.

“Coriolanus. Can I help you with something?” So proper. So uptight.

“I just need a second opinion, and you’re the only one I trust with this.” Coriolanus took the flier out of his coat pocket, and unfolded it carefully.

“Not to sound rude, but why not ask Clemensia? I thought you two were close, class partners, even.”

“Her opinion isn’t what I need.” Coriolanus dismissed, sliding the flier across the table. “Your’s is better suited, I believe.”

Sejanus picked up the flier and scanned it briefly. “Dr. Gaul wrote this.”

Coriolanus had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. So damn slow. “Indeed she did.”

Sejanus lifted his head, a puzzled expression on his face. When was he ever not puzzled, though? “You’re thinking of signing up? Why? I’ve heard from other staff members it isn’t going to be a usual series of trials.”

“When is it ever with her? She’ll probably pluck a few of my hairs and try to clone me or something.” Coriolanus shrugged, taking the flier back and refolding it before placing it back in his coat pocket. “And for the academic opportunities,of course. Stay on her goodside. Maybe she’ll put a good word in for me for your father’s prize.”

The brunet’s expression softened a little at that. “You’re hellbent on that prize, huh? I thought the Snow’s lived in a mansion made of money.”

“Then there'll just be some more to add to it. The more the merrier, right?” Coriolanus replied coolly. He attempted a smile to ease the other. It worked somewhat. “It’d pay for my tuition to University, anyway. Just makes things easier.. Which is all the more reason to do it, hm?”

“I guess.” Sejaunus said slowly. Hesitantly. Ugh, this was a waste of time. “If that’s what you want, Coriolanus, then go for it.” He paused. “Just promise you’ll tell me about what goes on in there? I’m too scared to see myself.”

What a baby. “Of course.”

***

To his surprise (and pleasure), he had been the only one to sign up for the trials. Was it really such a surprise, though? Most of these kids were too chicken to kill spiders. Coriolanus, on the other hand, liked them.

Coriolanus decided to keep the ordeal a secret from his family for now. They didn’t have to know. He could say he won some stupid competition at school, or had found a small job. The doctor would require him to visit the lab once a week following the initial procedure. Definitely not usual, but it didn’t concern him.

Never in his wildest dreams would he have suspected her to suggest changing him into a mutt.

“I’ve experimented on countless animals, but never a human.” The doctor informed him when they first met. “Maybe an Avox or two, but that never meant anything. But this, my dear.. Could be the future of Panem as we know it.”

Coriolanus’ jaw tensed. “You’re joking, right?”

“Never.” She smiled. Crooked, unnerving. Evil. “I thought you Snow’s were all about honor and glory? Being the first human mutt would be a huge honor.”

“We also have pride, ma’am.” He retorted, getting ready to make a break for it. “Good day.” 

Just as he turned to leave, two assistants dressed head to two from white grabbed him by the arms. One pulled out a hypodermic needle and jabbed it into his side. Coriolanus felt his legs turn to jelly, head swimming with fog.

“No! Wait-!” He slurred, kicking with what little strength he could muster. The last thing he was able to make out before blacking out was the blank expressions on the assistants faces.

***

He sprung upright with a start, drenched in a cold sweat. Dr. Gaul hadn’t gone anywhere, he could tell by the overbearing scent of her perfume. 

“Did that answer your questions, dear boy?” She taunted him. He couldn’t answer if his life depended on it. “Your vitals are running strongly- Stronger than we expected.”

“What did you do to me?” He stammered.

“We have created the first human mutt in Panem history, and we call it a vampire.”

#the hunger games #thg #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tbosbas #coriolanus snow #sejanus plinth #snowjanus #coriolanus x sejanus #vampire au #vampire!coriolanus #chapter 1 #fanfiction #my fic #mcrfic

[yantao-enthusiast]

the midnights era is so underrated. i'm not getting my revenge. i'm not hopelessly in love. no, i'm staring at the ceiling, know that once i fall asleep tomorrow will start but with my weary consciousness, i'm left with the thoughts of everything i've ever done. there's such a comfort in this subliminal space in this barren time. there's no one to judge me except myself. that one person i dated and never talked to again, do they ever think about me? i hear the crickets chirping while i'm crying in the bathtub. i hate my body but it's the one i have. actually, the world we live in is such a beautiful place and it's so soft and full of wonders that wouldn't exist without its quirks. when i was young, i wanted to be a dancer. i wonder what she would think of me now. she's still here, in my heart. actually she would probably hate me, like everyone else rightfully does. all i do is hurt people and every bit of my kindness is complicated and calculated. do you think about me? do you think about how you hurt me with your complicated bullshit before coming back like nothing's wrong? do you stare at the wall, wishing you did something different just like me? actually no. fuck you. fuck you and fuck everyone who ever hurt me. i'll ruin your life and you'll never know it was me. i'm hot shit and god the bathroom mirror makes me look so sexy. i'm going to put on a sparkly dress and dance because you don't deserve my sadness. oh shit wait i'm in love. that's terrifying. it's delicate and confusing yet so effortlessly simple. okay back to fuck you. i don't even have to do anything. that's how much the universe loves me. that's how much kindness and love is in my heart. oh also i love this person so much. they love me. they don't expect anything from me. they're like the blanket wrapped around me in the darkest hours, keeping me warm, keeping me alive. oh yeah i also orchestrated this person's presence into my life because that's the only way i know to get people to love me. but they know that. and they love me all the same.

oh look it's 3am now. how the fuck did that happen. god remember the time we were going through it? yeah but we had each other. i'm sorry for hurting you, pushing you away during that time when we were both struggling. you just wanted to help. and you did. maybe i'll tell them in the morning. would that be weird? maybe she'll get the message telepathically. man what if nothing wrong ever happened to me. i'll never be that girl. i'll never be the person i would've been if everything was normal in my life. fuck my life. oh right i'm in love. love this handsome fella. he makes me have vivid hallucinations about being in paris. i mean who need to go to paris when i got my baby with me??? who needs to pay attention to anything else? actually. this is really off topic. i cheated on someone once. yes i know i shouldn't have. but i was dying, stranded in a loveless land, and he saved me. yes i shouldn't have cheated on you but maybe you should've loved me. this relationship was a mistake. i didn't mean to love you. but i did. i'm in your arms and i don't remember how i got there. it's wrong. it's right. i never wanted this. nothing else will ever be as good as you. oh god i'm 19 all over again. with just one glance, i'm transported back into that time when i ached with every step, begged for just a piece of you when you're the one who looked at me. i wish i could go back. i am back. i just can't change anything. you have stolen a piece of me i will never get back and it's been so long but you can never get over the pain of losing yourself. but you don't have to worry about that, right? because you never gave anything. just like you'll never give my girlhood back. i wish i could keep anyone else from feeling that pain. i want to tell them all what i've learned from all the years i've been hurt. but why should anyone listen to me? i'm still a wreck, still figuring it all out, shouldn't they get advice from someone who actually knows how to navigate this messy existence? does it even matter? i'm in a state of paralysis, forever wondering, unable to get closure. it's too late. every midnight.

#i'm just saying. #tldr put some respect on midnights' name!!!!!! #midnights appreciation post #THE midnights appreciation post #actually #she's literally just spittin..... #it's giving late night adhd depression babygirl #midnights #midnights era #taylor swift #a tag for my very long posts about taylor swift #<3

[dyns33]

Flufftober 19 - Marc Spector

Marc Spector x reader 

Everyone had secrets.

Shameful, painful, unmentionable things, and even if they trusted certain people, ready to die for them and knowing that it was mutual, they didn't necessarily want to tell them everything.

This was the case for Marc and Y/N.

Even though they loved each other deeply, there were some things they had never said to each other.

For his part, Marc had told Y/N almost everything. It had taken him some time, Steven's encouragement, Jake's sighs and Layla's gentle teasing, for him to open up to her. There were a lot of things he would have preferred to keep to himself, but everyone had told him it wasn't right to hide all this, and he couldn't contradict them.

So he had told her about the army. His jobs as mercenaries, the people he killed. His meeting with Khonshu. His DID, introducing her to Steven and Jake. His marriage to Layla, and their separation. The Scarab, Cairo, Harrow.

There was only one subject he still refused to discuss, even though he had made some progress, not crying anymore and not forcing one of his alters to take over as soon as he thought about it.

His childhood.

His crime.

His tormentor.

He was afraid of Y/N's reaction if he told her about it. He didn't want her to pity him. Or for her to see him as a monster. Or that she has no reaction, as if it were not so serious.

For her part, Y/N tried to remain calm whenever the big skeletal bird appeared to shout at Marc or one of the others. Because she wasn't supposed to see or hear him.

Ever since she was little, she was able to see and hear many things. She had strange dreams, about events that had happened, or were about to happen. She visited places that were on other planets, sometimes in other universes.

She knew very well that she could have spoken to Marc about it, especially since he had confessed to her that he was an avatar. But it was stronger than her, she remembered perfectly how her parents, the other children, the doctors, had treated her when she had told them about those strange voices, those shadows and huge creatures. that she was the only one to perceive.

After several months in a hospital, with lots of drugs, she ended up saying that she had made it all up, that it was over. She was normal, everything was fine.

And most of the time, that was true enough. There were always weird things everywhere she went, but if she avoided certain places like cemeteries, churches, or museums, it wasn't so bad, and she managed to hide her weirdness.

With Marc and his Moon God, it was a little more complicated, but she had ended up getting used to it.

That wasn't what bothered her the most.

There were two entities that regularly followed Marc. Sometimes during the day, sometimes at night. Y/N could see them in her dreams.

The woman was very aggressive. The little boy never said anything, running away as soon as she saw him.

To determine what they were, ghosts or demons, and force them to leave Marc alone, she tried to talk to them.

           "Leave him alone ?" repeated the woman with crazy eyes, but also full of sadness. "After what he did ? But you don't know what he did, do you ? He didn't tell you. Because he knows he doesn't deserve to be happy and that you will leave if he talks about it !"

           "Then explain to me."

           "He took my Roro ! He did it on purpose, I should have known he would do such a thing, I should never have trusted him ! He deserves to be punished, you understand ?! My Roro ! I want my Roro !"

Y/N failed to get any more information from the woman, who was then only crying and screaming hysterically. She couldn't figure out what a "roro" was.

So she turned her attention to the little boy. It was really not easy to manage to approach him, but in one of her dreams, she found him near a cave.

           "Hello." she said softly not to scare him. "What are you doing here all alone ?"

           "I'm waiting for the doctor."

           "The doctor ?"

           "Yes. I'm his assistant, Russell, and we're going to explore this ancient cavern for treasures."

           "Oh, those kind of doctors, okay. You're explorers. That's great ! And the doctor isn't here yet ?"

           "No, I'm expecting him. But I don't know if we should go in there. Mom and dad say it can be dangerous."

           "They are probably right."

           "Mom's been weird lately. Especially with my brother. She's mean and I don't understand why. He's nice, my big brother. He hasn't done anything wrong. She makes him cry, I don't like that. I don't want to see her."

The poor kid then started to sob and Y/N couldn't help hugging him to try to comfort him, until he disappeared or she woke up.

She often dreamed of him, always the same dream, near the cave, talking about adventure and her brother.

Until she dreamed he was drowning. This jolted her awake, her cry also waking Marc.

           "What's going on ?! Are you okay babe ? Are you hurt ?!"

           "No. Excuse me. A nightmare, that's all."

           "Oh. I get it. Do you… Do you want to talk about it ? Steven says it might help to talk about it." he said, before starting to whisper. "Yeah okay, I'm going to hug her. What ? You think so ? I don't know Steven, Jake might be right, I should ask her if she wants me to hug her first."

           "You are all adorable. Yes, I would like a hug, please."

Not wasting a second, Marc guided her against him, resting her head against his chest, his hands caressing her back and her hair.

He said nothing, waiting for her to speak, if she wanted to.

           "You'll find this absurd, but I often dream of a little boy. I grew attached to him and last night he... He died."

           "Sorry."

           "It's not your fault. I mean, I don't even know if he's real."

           "... What do you mean ?"

           "I... I may have seen him before, somewhere, and don't remember. Well, I think I'll remember a boy named Russell. Maybe when I was at the hospital. He was waiting for a doctor. He had a little accent, like Steven."

Beneath her, Marc's whole body tensed suddenly. He stopped moving, even breathing.

           "Marc ?"

           "... Tell me more about this boy." he asked slowly, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

           "Hmm. His name is Russell. He must be five or six years old, I'm not sure. He has a big brother. Their mother has been weird for a while according to him, she's been picking on his brother and he doesn't don't understand why."

           "... He doesn't understand why ?"

           "No. His brother is very nice. He told me a lot about him, about their games. It makes him cry that their mother is mean. I may have also dreamed of her now that I think about it. Or maybe not. Do you think "roro" could be a nickname for Russell ?"

           "For Randall. It's a nickname for Randall."

His voice got very weird as he said that. Y/N raised her head to look at him, discovering a disturbing mix of fear, sadness and weariness.

Slowly, she ran her hands over his cheeks.

           "Marc ? Are you okay ? Do you... Do you know Randall ?"

           "He was... my brother."

           "Oh. I see."

           "No, you don't see."

           "Actually, I think I do. Your…Your mother also talked to me a bit. I saw the cave. Rus… Randall told me about exploring. How dangerous it could be. You're the doctor, aren't you ? It was a game. Then there was an accident. An accident, Marc, it wasn't your fault. Your brother knows it. He told me. He said so many nice things about you. You were the best big brother and he doesn't blame you at all. In fact, he even avoids your mother now. He doesn't like what she did to you. What she is doing to you, even now. You didn't deserve this, you didn't do anything wrong, he said it himself. Don't ask me how I know, but I don't think they're at the same place. He's waiting for you to play, she wanders in the shadows. Marc... Marc, darling, please don't cry, I'm sorry."

She kissed his tears, his forehead, his nose, his mouth, trying to comfort him, afraid that one of the alters was coming. She adored them, but she and Marc had to deal with this together.

Maybe he was strong enough, maybe the others knew what to do and what not to do, but Marc stayed with her, shaking and sobbing.

           "... He's not mad at me ?"

           "Not at all."

           "Isn't... Isn't it just a dream ?"

           "... No. There are some things I haven't told you. Things I know, see, hear. Like Khonshu. I must tell you that he is really very unpleasant. Except with Jake. He's a little more polite with Jake. Sorry for not telling you before."

           "I haven't told you about Randall before."

           "You didn't have to." she reassured him, rocking him. "It's my fault you had to tell me."

           "You're not responsible for what you dream of, or anything else. We had little secrets, and it's all good now."

           "Are you sure ?"

Marc looked at her for a long time. There was something she couldn't read in his eyes, as if he was surprised that she was asking this, that he didn't know how he should take it, before smiling slightly, deciding that it was. was a good thing.

There was little chance that everything would be all good, between the traumas, the ghosts, the missions and the visions, but they would be together, with no more secrets from each other, ready to face anything.

#moon knight #Marc Spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector imagine #marc spector fanfic #flufftober 2022

[f1crecs]

'Megaverse Monday - Week One

if your fic is on this list and you don’t want it to be, please let us know and we will remove it immediately, no questions asked. we have contacted most of the authors on this list, but sometimes people fall through the gaps - just pop us a message🤍

have a pairing you want me to do next? please read the faqs and then head to our inbox.

don’t forget to give the authors featured on this list some love in the form of kudos, bookmarks, and comments!

did you know that this fandom has one of the highest percentages of a/b/o content? join us as we celebrate the fandom's incredible omegaverse works every 'megaverse monday. 🤍

Charles/Esteban/Pierre

nsfw: no poor substitute by @leclercenjoyer | E | 4.2k Charles and Pierre are mated. Charles goes into heat early while Pierre is out of the country. They ask Esteban to help. Esteban longs for both Pierre and Charles, but has always respected their relationship and the slightly awkward detente they’ve all achieved. He doesn’t hesitate to help when asked, but he also doesn’t dream of overstepping and treats Charles gently and with the utmost respect. The three of them (Pierre is joining in by phone) come to an understanding that they all want more of each other.

'Charles is warm all over. The skin of his back is flushed and sweaty, sticking to Esteban's chest where they’re pressed together. His heat broke earlier, so he's cooling down bit by bit as he comes back to himself, no longer feverish and searing to the touch but still not quite back to normal. His belly, under Esteban's hand where it is splayed. And the back of his neck, where Esteban has tucked his nose against his spine, hair tickling his forehead. All warm. He's warm inside, too, his slick heat a firm pressure around Esteban's swollen knot where they’re still locked together. If he concentrates, he's pretty sure he can feel Charles' heartbeat pulsing around him, slow and steady. They're both exhausted, the past three days having taken a toll, and they’re both covered in a lot more than just sweat, but cleanup will have to wait until Esteban's knot subsides. For now, he simply holds Charles close and lets his mind drift. He’s half-dozing, or something close to it, when he becomes aware of Charles’ quiet murmuring. At first, his barely-conscious mind thinks Charles is talking to himself, even though it barely makes sense. He's probably not talking to Esteban, given how quiet he is. Then a pause, and another voice filters through. It’s tinny, and probably at the lowest possible volume Charles' phone can go, but it's unmistakably Pierre. Oh. Right.'

Alex/George

nsfw: Like as a huntsman by @boxboxlewis | E | 11k

Alex and George bond to one another when they are 19 and 17. George is pressured to have the mating mark surgically removed and the bond broken and is then discouraged from seeing Alex at all. The angst in this fic is palpable. George and Alex bonded too young by society’s standards, but of course it was right for them. George’s deference to authority is very in character for him. He spends a lot of time and effort trying to suppress and ignore his emotions and physical responses, and trying to live up to what he has been told is “best” for him.

He wakes up again and realises, this time, that he must be in hospital. Presumably, this has something to do with the pain at the side of his neck. It's sickening, the pain, throbbing and ebbing in great kaleidoscopic swells that make thought very challenging. He tries to remember what happened and can't. Someone appears at his bedside: a nurse, presumably. George says "Why" and starts crying, slow hot tears leaking from his eyes and dripping down his cheeks. The nurse says, "Ah, hmm, I'll just fetch the surgeon. I won't be a minute." This is, of course, a lie. George waits in a state of confused dread. The surgeon is an alpha, which means she arrives in a choking cloud of musk that somehow makes the pain in his neck worse, brutal waves of it cascading into his skull and washing through his arms and legs. "Right, George," she says briskly. "I'm Ms Kincaid, I'm a consultant surgeon in dynamic medicine here. Do you remember why you're in hospital?" George shakes his head, which is an error. As he does, a memory comes back, and he shuts his eyes against it: Alex saying Come on, Georgie, this is for the best. Don’t make it difficult. Saying that he didn’t want to be mated to George anymore, that it had all been a mistake. "Try not to move your head," Ms Kincaid advises, cheerfully oblivious to the devastation George is reliving. "You've just had a major operation. Preliminary indications are very promising, but the healing process will take time." "What," George says. Ms Kincaid leans forward and rests a hand on George's leg, and he can't scream or say no so he just sits frozen. "We removed your mating bite," the doctor says. "We successfully severed the bond, you're back to being unmated. As if the bite never happened. A very exciting result, it's quite an experimental surgery." George needs Alex. He tries to call out through their mating bond and recoils in shock from the frightening blank nothingness that meets him. He tries again, harder, and faints.

Daniel/Max

you only have to ask by @toastandvegemite | T | 13k

After Michael can no longer be Daniel’s ‘Supervising Alpha’, he is left with just a week to find a new Alpha or risk being unable to race. Max is always there. I loved how in this work there is a balance of Omega Daniel and Alpha Max, but also confident Daniel and quiet Max. I love a/b/o set within racing environments, and this feels like a well thought out depiction of that. All of the characterisations are very fitting.

Daniel meets Max with everything he had, tried to drag him closer even when Max was holding him so hard he couldn’t barely breathe. It was like falling into the turbulent ocean, the sensations crashing into him like a breaking wave, filling his head with a roar that was nearly deafening.

Charles/Max

nsfw: like fire and powder by @grandprix-ao3 | E | 15.5k

Max and Charles are both alphas, until they both learn the myth of “bitching” is actually true when Charles becomes an omega. I love non-traditional a/b/o dynamics, and this fic is complex and thoughtful. Max in particular is beautifully characterised. You get the sense he was never all that comfortable as an alpha and he rebels against his own instincts. He is especially frustrated by the way his instincts drive him to behave differently around Charles than he did before. They both need to learn to navigate this new dynamic if they are to maintain their relationship.

“But I am an Alpha.” It’s all Max can think to say after Charles propositions him. His heart rabbits in his chest, ribs aching with it, cracking under the pressure. All of his skin burns hot, blistering, burdened by Sakhir’s heat. The thick collar of his fireproofs has never felt so stifling, wrapped hotly around his throat with a hate, easy to fiddle with when fingers tremor under the wound of Charles’s eyes, his words, the way he says it like he means it—you piss me off, you piss me off, please touch me, please touch me. Charles twitches. He stands with his feet apart, race suit loose at his hips, sleeves nearly dragging on the floor. He looks more aggressive all done up in red, framed by the closed door of Max’s driver’s room. His face is burning, too. Sweaty, wet without champagne. Max’s has it, the sweet taste of victory, bubbling and crystalline against the heat of his skin. He wonders how much of his scent is drowned out beneath it, if it’s anything like Charles’s smell now, hot and aggressive and battered by the stink of losing. He refuses to rest his weight. Charles stands like he might pounce, fists clenching and unclenching, shoulders tight. His lips are off-kilter. He has too much stubble. He looks fit to burst, steam seeping from his ears, halfway to explosive. “I know,” is what he finally answers with, and his voice is batty. It rumbles with something low, growling, straight from the chest. Max leans forward instinctively, challenging, not one to surrender without a fight. His racing boots scuff against the floor.

thank you to @lydia-petze and @maaxverstappen for helping to compile this list ❤️

#'megaverse monday #lestappen #maxiel #galex #pierestebarles #pairing:alex/george #pairing:charles/max #pairing:daniel/max #ot3:charles/esteban/pierre #a/b/o #driver:alex #driver:charles #driver:daniel #driver:esteban #driver:george #driver:pierre #driver:max

[randomgentlefolk]

CPC CHAPTER 164

I'm crying on the ground. Sobbing with my cat yet again. I feel so peaceful and destroyed at the same time.

Lambcat really said we should start the year with a breakdown huh

I'm gonna hold my breakdown until I talk about the moment.

Lance to the rescue!! Man I love that guy. I also really love how he looks in the panel I put as my pfp. He looks so soft and gentle :')

The interaction between Lance and Lorena is rising my hope that they will still be friends after the chaos ends.

This did caught me off guard lmao 😭 I'm sorry for saying this but is he implying that he has a thick skull because nahh he did himself dirty

Y'ALL IT'S THE MOMENT WE'VE (or at least me haha) ALL BEEN WAITING FOR. Lance!!! Fighting against his kingdom!!! I'm so proud of him YOU GO LANCE!!!

Huge respect for Lance and his friends tho for CARRYING THAT HUGE PILLAR LIKE WHAT. Remember when I said something along the line of "if Frederick say he's weak while he can carry an entire llama, then I'm terrified of what Lance can do"? Yea this just proved my point.

Also I'm going to keep saying that Lance is going to have a sick scar with that x mark.

I once again wonder what is the legal age for alcohol in cpc? In US and the country I live in, the legal age is 21. But I think it's 18 in UK right? If it's 18 in cpc then that makes sense because Lance is 19 and Blaine is 20 (i'm saying this because of the beer pong comment by Lance's friend)

Sheesh, I hope Leland will be defeated from the king position soon. I don't want anyone to be executed. That would be disturbing.

Oooh!! Syrah and Saffron probably showing their fighting skill in the future episodes??? I hope so!!

Thank you Maria! It's nice to see that The pastel siblings now believe that Frederick truly loves Gwen.

Feeling like your legs are paralyzed whenever you're gonna face something you're terrified of is so real :( you can do it, Frederick! I believe in you!!

LELAND CHILL???? MAN YOUR HANDS ARE BLEEDING. Eat a snickers damnit. You're not you when you're going through a heart break xd

Oh. Okay. Ouch. Massive ow. Y'know when I said how the Monika's room episode and Frederick's monologue about what he wants really hits for me? Well add this to the list because wtfff.

Aww Gwegg :( She kept blaming herself even though it really isn't her fault. What Gwen said is pretty comforting though. Them apologizing to each other </3 It really is the shit when you realize you haven't treat yourself kindly. Like when you keep wondering why everything is wrong then you look at your inner self and go "oh. That's why".

GWEN SAYING "No matter what happens, I'll never let go of you again!" HAJWHSIWBS

INTOOOOO LEELATHAE'S BACKSTORY!!

*cue 1996 batman transition*

Aww the births of The Pastel Siblings! Though Leelathae's thought during each of the births...it breaks my heart :( it seems that she view the births of The Pastel Siblings as a way to apologize for her "mistake" (in which she didn't make any mistake at all), even though it shouldn't be like that at all...

I'm surprised no animals appear at Maria's birth lol. I was really expecting for a deer or birds to suddenly appear haha.

This IS making me a bit worried though. I don't know much about child births and stuff but while it is normal to still feel pain after giving birth, is it possible that there were some complications leading to Leelathae's dead 3 years after giving birth to Gwen and Jamie? I'll let someone more knowledgeable to figure out what is happening with Leelathae since I have no idea at all.

Anyway! Finally, a close up on Pastel Siblings as babies!! I know we've seen them before in the portraits beside Jack's bed, but it's nice to see them clearer.

Initially, I was worried how Leelathae would react to Gwen, but nevermind that

I'm so happy about this scene :') Leelathae realizing how beautiful Gwen is, even calling her the most beautiful in all the land. Also her saying as long as Gwen thinks she's beautiful, then what other people think doesn't matter makes me sob. Mother love is always something so touching.

On the other hand though, it made me a little confused now on why she asked Jack to lock up the children and never let them out. Looking at one of the fast pass episode's thumbnail, maybe it's because of the witch? We're nearing the end and there are still so many questions.

And now, INTO THE PRESENT! And the moment....

*cue 1996 batman transition*

I'M. I'M GONNA CRY. The fact that Gwen doesn't recognize Leelathae?? The fact that they're wearing the same robe???

WHEN LAMBCAT SAID THERE WASN'T ENOUGH GUT PUNCHES, SHE WAS BEING FR. I don't have anything to say about this scene, but at the same time I want to say a lot about this scene. Gwen's mom telling her that she's beautiful, Gwen crying without knowing why, I'm going to cry.

But hey, Gwegg is finally whole again! True love kiss is real after all ^_^ i love how Lambcat does a little spin at the classic true love kiss. But now that Gwen is finally awake...Well, let's just wish her, Frederick, Aurelia, and Celso good luck at dealing with the officially confirmed big bad wolf/serpent, Leland.

We kinda should thank Leland a bit, though. If he wasn't there ripping off all of the thorny veins, Gwen would get pretty hurt if she still wakes up while sitting up

Yooo the newest fast pass being the final chapter of Leelathae's diary? I hope we will have our questions answered!! And the fact that there's a witch in the thumbnail...hm.

That's it for now!

Mono out! (But still in to hear your thoughts)

#cursed princess club #cpc

[rainisawriter]

I’ll Never Leave – Renato (PSF #19)

Ficography

Genre: Fluff

Prompt: Keeping someone safe (@flufftober)

Word Count: 2,983

Pairing: Reader x Renato

World: Dead by Daylight

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

You rolled your neck, breathing heavily as you stared at Ghostface from across the dropped pallet. You were the last survivor alive and he had been toying with you for about ten minutes. Despite chasing you while covered from head to toe, his breathing was completely normal. 

He tilted his head to the side, expression hidden behind the mask, though you knew he was smirking as he flipped his knife a few times. “How much longer can you last?”

You wiped the sweat from your brow, glaring at him. “As long as I need to.”

He didn’t know it, but you had been lucky enough to pull Bill’s hatch perk before the match began. You could see it glowing yellow in the distance, so close yet so very far. You were already injured and exhausted. Did you have enough energy within you to reach it?

As soon as doubt started to cloud your mind, you clenched your fists and told those thoughts to fuck off. You’ve been forced into this damn cat-and-mouse game for years. You were a veteran by this point and there was no way in hell you were going to give up. At the very least, you wouldn’t give this smug bastard the satisfaction.

“What are you waiting for?” you taunted, holding out your arms. “I’m already injured, Ghostie. Come and get me… if you can.”

Ghostface chuckled, gripping his knife tightly. He did love the thrill of the hunt. “I’m gonna get you, little lamb.”

You scoffed, faking right before running left. He fell for it but corrected himself quickly and you switched directions as soon as he did. You looped him for a solid minute before he got tired of it, kicking the pallet hard so that it broke in half. The second his boot hit the wood, you darted toward the hatch, clutching your stomach.

The shirt you wore was soaked with blood from the wound, pain shooting through your body with every step. You didn’t have to glance over your shoulder to know that he was on your ass. The hatch was nearly within reach now.

A cry left your lips when his blade sliced across your back, knocking you down to the ground. Unfortunately for him, you fell right next to the hatch and, before he could grab you, you slipped into the inky blackness, successfully escaping the trial.

You exhaled as you felt your wounds healing on their own, the darkness surrounding you completely. The first thing you heard was Renato calling out your name before his tall body fell against your own, his arms around you. You blinked a few times, the survivor’s camp coming into focus.

“Welcome back, meu coração,” he breathed out, his thick accent bringing a smile to your face. You honestly had no clue what ‘meu coração’ meant because neither he nor his sister would tell you, but you adored the way he said it.

“Thank you,” you replied tiredly, patting his back.

Nea scowled at you before slapping a candy bar against David’s palm. He was grinning widely, clearly proud of himself. Currently, you were on a winning streak and the two were constantly betting on you, offering up snacks or med kits. Since Nea didn’t like you, she kept betting for you to lose and always tried to sabotage you when you were in trials together.

It didn’t take you long to realize what she was up to and you certainly weren’t going to let her be your downfall. 

Renato pulled back, a smile on his lips. “That’s your twentieth win, meu coração! Ten more and you’ll beat Bill’s record.”

You glanced at the old man sitting in front of the fire, a cigarette between his lips. He didn’t seem worried or bothered by this because, to him, it wasn’t a competition. He was here to fight and survive, nothing more, nothing less. You felt much the same, though you had found another reason to survive.

Your eyes fell on Renato and he offered you a shy smile, hand finding the back of his neck. It was what he did when he was nervous, you had learned, and he did it a lot when he was with you. 

“Are you hungry?” he asked

“Not really, no.” Your nose wrinkled at the thought of food, making him frown.

“Do you feel unwell?” His hand found your forehead. “You don’t feel warm.”

“I’m fine, just tired.”

He nodded in understanding, giving you a soft smile. “Go get some rest, meu coração. Sleep well.”

“Thanks, Ren.”

He bit his lip, butterflies fluttering in his stomach at the nickname. His dark eyes followed you until you disappeared into your tent. He wished he could make you feel better, but there was nothing that could heal against the entity’s grip. Whether you win or lose a trial, it’s always tough on the survivors.

You were a lot like Bill, pretending as if it didn’t bother you but he knew it did. It affected everyone, though he had noticed that it wasn’t the same for everyone. Some of the survivors were weaker to the entity’s influence, taking days to fully recover after a trial. Others were ready to go after just a couple of hours. You were part of the latter category, though he still worried for you.

Thalita nudged his shoulder, a smirk on her lips. “Daydreaming about them again, hm?”

His cheeks dusted with pink and he sent his older sister a scowl. “I was not.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” she snickered. “Honestly, I don’t know why you don’t just confess.”

“No way!” he replied quickly, shaking his head. “I could never.”

“Why not? It’s not like we’re going anywhere. Though,” her eyes flickered to Leon who was roasting marshmallows on the fire. “If you don’t confess soon, someone else might.”

Renato followed his sister’s gaze and frowned, feeling several negative emotions settling in his gut. He hadn’t failed to notice how close you and Leon were, though he couldn’t tell how you felt. He was confident that Leon liked you and the thought of him confessing to you scared him.

Leon was kind, friendly and selfless. He’s sacrificed himself many times just to give his team a chance at surviving and he never complained. Not to mention he was strong and attractive.

On the other hand, Renato was more reserved, struggling to properly interact with the others. He wasn’t willing to rush in and sacrifice himself for others, unless it was you or his sister, and he didn’t believe himself to be attractive at all. He was also self-conscious about his English, though you had reassured him numerous times that his English was fluent.

He had pictured himself confessing to you many times since the two of you first met, but he could never quite get up the nerve to do so. He was afraid of losing you. Not that you could go anywhere, you were all stuck in the entity’s realm, but he was afraid you wouldn’t want to be near him again.

It was honestly a tale as old as time itself, but he was okay with being a cliché so long as he had you by his side.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

A sharp sting against your wrist pulled you roughly from sleep and you scowled at the survivor mark etched into your skin. It was the entity’s way of keeping track of everyone and alerting them when it was their turn to enter the trial. It couldn’t have been more than five hours since your face-off with Ghostie and you still felt exhausted.

There was no getting out of it, though, not unless you wanted to spend time in the void, stuck to a hook for days on end. With a sigh, you pulled yourself out of the sleeping bag, stuffing your feet into your boots before stepping outside.

Most of the survivors had gone to bed, the campfire dwindling. The moon was full above, thin clouds floating around it like a blanket. It was hard to tell the seasons in this realm but the air was nippy, reminding you of autumn. The thought brought a smile to your face.

Your wrist burned again, smile twisting into a scowl. “Yeah, yeah. I’m going.”

You approached the shed that sat at the edge of the camp, stepping inside. Leon was standing at the locker closest to the door and he glanced at you, smiling warmly. You greeted him with a nod, approaching the locker beside him and holding up your wrist. The blue orb on the door scanned it before the lock clicked.

The locker opened up, the inside bigger than the ones in trials. The items you owned sat on a table while the walls displayed the blood web and the items you could buy. The timer had begun to tick down, indicating that everyone had arrived.

You didn’t bother looking to see who else had been chosen, you just focused on choosing your items. You decided on taking a toolbox with a brand new part, but something stopped you. Your gut was telling you to choose the med kit and you grabbed it seconds before the dark fog filled the room, encasing everything.

Cold drops of rain pelted your body and you knew what realm you had landed in before your eyes even opened – Mother’s Dwelling. It was your favorite realm because it was peaceful, easy to hide in, and because it always rained. You could only hope the killer wasn’t too annoying.

“I swear if it’s Ghostface again,” you muttered under your breath, beginning to walk through the forest, sticks snapping beneath your feet. 

There was a generator in front of you but you didn’t touch it. The beginning of the match was important because you had no idea who the killer was. They always listened for the annoying grating of metal as the generators started up and that would determine who got caught first.

Your heart rate increased, the beating in your ears steadily getting louder as the killer approached. You darted behind a thick tree, squatting down so you could peer over a thick bush. The forest was dark, thick black mist covering the floor. Your eyes narrowed as the killer came around the corner, heading straight toward the gen. 

It was the hillbilly.

You bit your lip to hold back your groan, fingers curling around your pant leg. Of all the killers, why him? Granted, he’s not as difficult as the cannibal, but he was still a pain in the ass because that chainsaw was painful as hell. 

‘Looks like I’m going stealth this game,’ you thought, watching as he sauntered away to check the other gens. Once your heart rate returned to normal, you approached the gen and got to work connecting wires and tightening screws.

You heard hurried footsteps behind you and you glanced over your shoulder, eyes widening. Renato smiled at you when your eyes met his, but it was a weary one.

“Meu coração,” he breathed out, coming to a stop beside you. “You’re back in a trial already… are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you assured him only to connect the wrong wires and cause the Gen to blow up in your face. “Shit.”

His slender fingers curled around your wrist, tugging you up and away from the gen just as your heart rate increased again. You could hear the chainsaw revving in the distance, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end. You shoved Renato to the side and he cried out, losing his balance and hitting the ground with you on top of him.

The hillbilly darted through the spot you had just been standing, the chainsaw cutting through the air. He let out a frustrated cry and you scrambled to your feet, only one thing on your mind – protect Renato at all costs. You would do anything to keep him safe, even if it meant sacrificing yourself to do so.

“Oi, shit stain,” you taunted, stepping away from Renato who was still on the ground, watching you with wide eyes.

The hillbilly slowly turned toward you, glowing eyes narrowed. 

You smirked at him. “Your aim still sucks. You should consider asking that leather-faced bastard for some tips. He’s way better than you.”

A loud, angry cry left him as he lifted the chainsaw above his head, revving it repeatedly. You turned on your heel, darting away with him right behind you. He tried to rush at you with the chainsaw but you darted to the left at the last second, just barely managing to dodge it. 

You ran through a pallet, thinking you had enough time to drop it and gain some distance but you misjudged it. He struck you hard with his hammer and you cried out, clutching your shoulder as you ran.

You were about to vault into the killer shack when Nea appeared on the other side of the window, a smirk on her lips. She shoved you backward as hard as she could and you stumbled back. The hillbilly grabbed your injured shoulder, bringing the hammer down again. Your body crumbled, pain filling you.

He grabbed you by the back of your shirt, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You struggled to free yourself but he had been lucky enough to get iron grasp, making it much harder to break free. You glanced over your shoulder, realizing he was bringing you toward the shack, intent on putting you in the basement. 

Was he going to camp the hook? 

As he stepped into the doorway, the pallet was thrown down, stunning him. You fell from his shoulder, stumbling forward. Renato grabbed your hand and ran toward the other side of the shack, keeping you in front of him since you were already injured.

“This way, meu coração,” he whispered, lightly pushing you toward the corner of the map. 

You could hear the chainsaw revving and the hillbilly yelling. Renato bit his lip, acting quickly. Just before the killer came through the door, he shoved you hard against the log wall that surrounded the map. You winced as it dug into your back, aggravating the wound but that was quickly forgotten when the tall male pressed his body against your own, shielding you from view.

His fingers found the nap of your neck, warm breath on your ear as he whispered, “Please try to be quiet, meu coração.”

You buried your face in his tank top to muffle your groans of pain, fingers curling around the black material. You could hear his heart racing within his chest, the sound interlacing with your own until they became one.

You could hear the hillbilly’s heavy breathing as he searched behind trees and in bushes, trying to find you but his eyesight had never been the greatest and he certainly wasn’t the smartest. 

“I’ll protect you,” breathed Renato, his hand coming to the back of your head, his other arm slipping around your waist. His voice was trembling and he was obviously scared, but you knew he meant every word. “I swear I’ll protect you, meu coração.”

You chuckled softly, finally feeling as if you could breathe when the hillbilly gave up the search to check the gens. You pulled back just enough to look up at him, adoring the way his tanned cheeks had turned pink. “Isn’t that the same thing I said to you in our first trial together?”

“You remember,” he smiled, offering you a nod. “You’ve saved me so many times since I arrived here. Now, it’s my turn.”

“You can start by healing me,” you joked, giving him a half-smirk when he sent you an embarrassed look.

“Sorry!”

You kneeled down, allowing him to lean over you, his hands hovering above the wound on the back of your shoulder. With the entity’s magic, you felt the wound begin to close, wincing at the strange sensation. You’ve been healed thousands of times, but you didn’t think you would ever get used to the feeling. Rather than the wound healing, it felt more like…

Well, it felt as if time was reversing itself, as if someone had pressed rewind on just the wound. It wasn’t painful, perse, but it was a strange and uncomfortable feeling. It was unnatural like everything else in this damn realm.

“There,” he spoke softly, stepping back so you could stand again.

“Thanks, love.”

The words slipped out on their own accord but both of you tensed up because of them. It just felt so natural to say it to him that you hadn’t given it any thought. He knew that it was a common thing in some parts of the world to say to people that you had no romantic interest in.

He knew that, yet his heart raced within his chest, face burning. If it hadn’t been for the lack of ear-piercing pounding in his ears, he would have thought the hillbilly had returned. 

You frowned as you took in his tense posture. “Sorry, it just slipped out. If it makes you uncomfortable -“

“No!” He replied quickly, holding out his hand. “I-I like it… a lot.”

You hummed, amusement dancing in your eyes. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“A deal? What do you mean?”

“I’ll start calling you love if you tell me what meu coração means.”

Renato bit his lip as he considered this. “If… if we both survive this trial, I promise I’ll tell you.”

You hummed in thought, ignoring Nea’s scream as she was taken out by the chainsaw. It was just deserts, in your opinion. You smiled, slipping your hand into his. “You better stay close to me, Ren, so I can keep you safe.”

His eyes sparkled as he nodded, giving your hand a squeeze. “I won’t ever leave your side, meu coração.”

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

-> General Taglist: @asterhaze, @mrskenpachizaraki

#flufftober2023 #day 19 #dead by daylight #renato lyra #reader insert #dbd #video games #fanfiction #fanfics #RFO - PSF #RFO - PSF23 #rains ficography #RFO - video games

[skyward-floored]

Febuwhump day 19 - “you deserve this”

HI I’M UPLOADING YESTERDAYS BECAUSE I COULDN’T DO IT THEN I’ll get today’s up at some point hopefully 😅 I’m not even that happy with how this turned out, but that’s life I guess I hope you all enjoy it anyway

Injury/blood warning, it’s not too graphic but it’s there!

Slate is botw Link, and Sprite is oot/mm.

Courage of ages explanation

————————————————————

Slate squeezed his eyes shut, clutching at his leg as he tried to breathe evenly.

His pant leg was sticky with blood, and moving it at all was agony, but he had to get out of the ravine he’d tumbled into. He didn’t have any healing items with him, not even his pouch was on his hip where it belonged.

And who’s fault was that, idiot?

Slate groaned, and looked up at the steep ledge he needed to climb up in order to get out of the ravine. Normally he’d scamper out in a minute or two, but his leg was probably broken, and the idea of trying to drag himself up did not sound fun.

...But it was that, or lie here and hope his bloody leg didn’t attract predators.

Biting back a groan, Slate began to slide himself over to the ravine wall, and painstakingly pull himself up, arms shaking. His bad leg bumped lightly against the side, and he hissed in pain, sweat trailing down his forehead as he dragged himself upward.

The climb only got harder the longer he went, arms shaking and leg aching almost agonizingly, but he kept going, ignoring the hot pain rippling all along his side.

“You deserve this anyway,” Slate gritted out to himself, blinking back tears as his leg burned with pain. “You deserve this, it was your fault, and you completely—“

He bit off a whine, agony pulsing through his leg.

He pressed his face to the wall for a minute and gasped in a breath, then continued to pull himself up out of the small ravine, gritting his teeth against the white-hot pain wrenching through his leg.

“You’re the one who decided to storm off after a stupid argument,” he hissed, speaking aloud mostly to distract himself from the pain. “It’s your fault he was even mad, and he’s perfectly within his rights to be mad because it’s your fault he’s even here—”

His hold slipped and Slate gasped as he fell back to the bottom of the ditch, yelling as pain slammed up his leg so harshly his vision whited out at the edges.

All he could do was lie there for a long time, gasping raggedly as he tried not to cry out again. His leg hurt even worse than before, and he felt oddly dizzy as he looked down at it, something about the angle a little funny looking.

Stupid stupid stupid.

He closed his eyes and swallowed, thinking back to how he’d even ended up here.

An argument had started between him and Sprite, something stupid neither of them really cared about. But it had somehow escalated, until they were both just yelling at each other, ending with Sprite saying it was all Slate’s fault that any of them were here in the first place.

Slate hadn’t even known what to say, words dying in his throat as he stared at Sprite. He’d wanted to defend himself, but how could he?

Sprite was right. It was all his fault.

It was his fault they’d all been ripped away from their homes and families, his fault the Yiga had decided to exact revenge on all the heroes, his fault he hadn’t realized what they were up to and had allowed them to grow powerful enough to even drag all the heroes here to try and kill them—

He squeezed his eyes shut, and put an arm over his face.

He’d just run off after that. Everyone had been staring at him and Sprite, but he hadn’t said a word before taking off like the coward he was, ignoring the few calls of his nickname.

And then he’d been so caught up in his thoughts that he’d tripped on a root and gone falling straight into the ravine.

His leg throbbed again and Slate bitterly welcomed it, watching the shadows grow longer. It had been a while since he left camp and fell, at least an hour by his guess, and he wasn’t sure he was up to trying to get out again yet. Besides, lying hurt at the bottom of a ravine was no less then he deserved. It was nice and quiet down here at least.

“Slate?”

His heart sank at the voice, but he moved his arm so he could peer up at who had spoken. Light’s head poked over the edge above him, multicolored eyes wide with worry, and Slate averted his gaze. He wasn’t sure he’d wanted to be found just yet.

“Slate are you okay? Oh no your leg— don’t worry, we’ll get you back up!” His head disappeared for a moment. “Hey Mini, I found him!”

Slate let out a quiet sigh, and kept his arm over his face as he heard scuffing from the top of the ravine. A rustling noise sounded out, and then there was a hand gently tapping his arm.

“Hi Slate,” Mini said softly, and Slate let out a grunt in response. “Light’ll be down in a second. Your leg looks really bad, are you okay?”

“Fine,” he murmured.

He was sure Mini frowned at him, but then footsteps padded in the dirt and another hand was poking at his leg.

“Holy crow what did you do Slate? This is broken in at least two places,” he said in disbelief, and Slate finally looked at up.

“I fell, okay? I’ll be fine,” he muttered, then winced when his leg throbbed again.

Mini gave him a little pat on the arm. “You will, once you have a potion or two.”

“Yeah but I think his leg will have to be set before we give him anything,” Light said, sounding a little grossed-out. “Which means we have to get him back to camp, because I’m not doing that.”

“I wouldn’t trust you to do it anyway,” Mini teased, but Slate didn’t laugh like he normally would. He merely continued to look up at the sky.

It took some doing, and Slate nearly blacked out at one point when his leg was hit, but Mini and Light eventually managed to get him up out of the ravine, and without jostling his leg too much. They were both a little short to easily support him, but they did their best, and slowly walked back to camp.

Not that Slate really wanted to go, but he hadn’t exactly been given a choice.

They shuffled along in relative silence for a while, Slate occasionally letting out a hiss of pain, and Mini or Light offering quiet encouragement. He wasn’t sure how long they’d been going through the quiet woods though when Mini suddenly spoke.

“Sprite didn’t really mean all of that you know,” he said quietly. Slate didn’t reply, and he sighed. “I think he’s just still upset Era got so hurt yesterday.”

“Yeah, because a cult from my world dumped him in our group,” Slate muttered. “If I’d just realized what they were up to I could’ve—”

“How could you have possibly known, Slate?” Light asked in disbelief. “It’s not like you knew and decided not to act. And you’re being just as hurt from their actions as the rest of us, if not more. Don’t take on all that guilt, okay?”

What’s a little more? Slate thought to himself, but didn’t vocalize it.

“Nobody blames you Slate,” Mini said gently. “And even if Sprite says he does, I don’t think he actually thinks it’s your fault. He’s just... tired, I think.”

“Well he doesn’t exactly sleep very much,” Light snorted, but Mini just shook his head, looking a little sad.

“Not that kind of tired.”

Light looked at him, then nodded a little thoughtfully, and Mini met Slate’s eyes.

“Will you talk to him after we get your leg fixed up?” he asked with a pleading look. “He did look like he felt bad after you left. Plus Era was talking to him, I think he’ll make him see sense. And Slate?”

“Yeah?” he replied tiredly. He felt rather wrung out from the afternoon’s events, and wanted to just collapse by the fire for a while.

“I mean it. It’s not your fault,” Mini said sternly. “It’s the Yiga’s. And you don’t get to blame yourself for their actions.”

“Ap-ap-ap no arguments!” Light said quickly when Slate opened his mouth. “Or we’ll get Gloam on your case, and I’m sure he’s told you this before.”

Slate looked away. “...he has a whole speech,” he admitted, and Light and Mini laughed.

Their group went quiet again after a minute, but Slate felt a little lighter, though the knot of guilt and shame still hung on in his stomach. They needed to figure out how to stop the Yiga before any of them really were killed, but until then... he’d let go of a little of the blame.

But not all of it.

Because despite what anyone said, or tried to convince him of, Slate knew a hefty amount of the blame rested on his shoulders.

#today’s will be up soon hopefully #it’s my bro’s birthday so it might not tho 😅 #legend of zelda #legend of Zelda au #courage of ages #coa slate #coa Mini #coa light #writing from the floor #febuwhump #febuwhump2023 #day 19 #you deserve this

[inkskinned]

im having a particularly terrible night with urges and imagery that i dont know how to handle. i gave in to some things. held back on some others. but im barely holding on, dear internet stranger.

you do not owe me your time or your words.. but if you could write some hope into existence for me.. i would be unendingly grateful to you.

please. tell me how you do it. tell me how you survive. because im not so sure i can get through the fifteen days it'll take to get to my seventeenth birthday.

could you please give me something to place my faith in? i dont think the universe is watching out for me anymore.

i don't usually answer these, because i am not a professional, and you deserve professional help. when i was 17 i was terrified of the idea of professional help, because my household was extremely unsafe, and made it clear that if i ever chose to get help, i would be punished for it.

i hope this is not your case. i hope that you can call someone, and they can take you where you should go.

but i will give you the advice that i wish i got, when i couldn't get help at 17, when i was so bad that years later, i literally don't-know-how-i-survived it: what you want is peace, not death. your brain is sick. it has romanticized an ending where there are no consequences. where effort isn't necessary. where you can just... forget.

you want peace. that is a normal, human thing to want. maybe it feels more like you want quiet. or just... to take a break for a second.

here is what i will say: to end yourself means you never get to experience what it's like to actually be happy. i thought i knew what it was like, and i was bitter about it. i'd say - i've been happy, it's not worth it, because i didn't know what i was missing. i thought that happiness meant having a partner or having a job or money or a college degree. it sounded like effort. it sounded like something that had to happen to me.

for the first time in my life, just this week, i was able to go to a concert and just-enjoy-it. no liquor, no drugs. just stomping my feet and getting caught up in it. i didn't feel nervous or self-conscious or overwhelmed. i just had a good time. these days have a lot of these firsts for me - it is the first time i can eat cake without crying. it is the first time i can be around an exacto blade without supervision. it is the first time i have too many people to call when i am crying.

i can't tell you where you'll run into happiness, only that, for me, it started once i was out of that fucking house. it started once i figured out where the pain was coming from. once i figured out that i was not possessed, something medical was wrong with me. that i am not stupid or lazy, i have depression and adhd. the first few years were difficult. at 19, during my efforts to recover, i actually got worse by a considerable margin. and then, with time and patience - i got better.

happiness doesn't feel like what you think it will. in movies it's so golden and all-encompassing. but it doesn't fly into your hands when you buy your first car nor does it arrive in the arms of a partner nor does it require passing your classes. happiness came to me on a tuesday in the form of a red-winged blackbird, and i looked at her, and she looked at me, and i said - oh. the whole world suddenly filled itself in with color. like i had been forever-asleep. like every corner of every room was suddenly glistening.

it ended quickly, back then. it just stopped in to check in on me. but it was enough - this thing i had never experienced, but that i knew (logically) could happen. before that, i was only staying because it would make my mom sad if i died. that was my only reason. and then the happiness came, so strange and brilliant and lovely that for years i couldn't even look at it directly.

these days, things are so different. life is so much easier. i don't wish for death because so much of what i have is already at peace. my boss understands when i need a mental health day. people in general are less prone to high school drama. entire communities hold my hand and have my number. i have a car and a dog and a little apartment garden and candles on all available surfaces and today i bought myself a little cake just-to-celebrate-nothing. my body is my own and we are both dancing.

there are so many things i've gotten to taste in the last 10 years. i know, for you, that is an eon, because it's more than half of your life. but if it helps? in the 5 years between 17-21: i filled myself with laughter and love. i got to be a lead in a ballet and got my first tattoo and then my second and pierced my ears the way i'd wanted to (one of them professionally the other over a hot stove with a potato) and i discovered hozier is my favorite singer (i know. he was new back then) and i got my first real job and my first real paycheck and i hadn't ever been seen as smart but then i started to actually treat my adhd as a condition rather than a burden and people started saying you're like the smartest person in the room and my best friend met her husband who i will one day stand next to as maid of honor when he is her groom and i got to help people and make a stupid blog called "inkskinned" and find out that writing is actually my passion and that maybe i'm actually kind of good at it if i just practice and i got to meet my parents' dog (his name is kaiju) and i slept on couches and kissed people and tried new things and learned how to breathe without feeling my chest tighten and that peace is here, on this planet, that peace echoes everywhere, it is in my hair and my homework and my houseplants, it is quiet and divine and mine because i fought for it and i built it and yes i lost hair over it but holy shit the whole world feels like it is shifted through a sunbeam

recently someone asked me if i could go back in time to 6th grade, with all the knowledge i have now, would i? and without thinking, i barked absolutely not. i know i should say it's because i wouldn't want to risk losing any of this stuff - but really it's because i would never survive being a teenager again. it sounds incredibly lame and impossible, fake - but being a teenager was the hardest thing i ever did. i had no voice, no control, only fear and hatred.

but i did survive it. nothing about me is special. nothing about me is stronger than you or better prepared or more efficient. i didn't survive it perfectly. i made a lot of mistakes and lost a lot of friends and harmed myself in ways that i'm still recovering from. but i did survive it. and there is a part of me looking at you in the past and saying - i'm you in the future.

and holy shit. every day. every goddamn day i'm glad we survived to see the rest of it. because you hit 18 and everything changes. like, everything. and holy shit, it is infinitely worth it.

#i hope you are okay #i wish i could help more #i hope the pain eases soon #and i hope that you stay #ps . to those of you reading this thinking i should help you too: please just dm me #it makes me really #really really scared when it's anonymous #bc i cant check in with u #i am not a professional and i am not actually good at helping ppl through their troubles #this is an exception bc they are 16 #not the rule #ps if u misunderstand ''being a teenager is the hardest thing i ever did'' when i mention briefly that i was in unsafe housing... #trust me. it was worse there. by like A HUGE margin #every person raised in unsafe housing nodding their head like . oh yeah worse stuff TECHNICALLY happened after but leaving that home was #legit the hardest thing i ever did

[fxntxsix]

Because we don’t have enough Sebastian Kydd fics out there, Sebastian with #19

The Window

Words: 1138

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

He had moved in the house opposite from yours when both of you were all of six. The excitement carried you to carelessly run across the street as fast as your little legs could take you to see what was going on. In your carelessness, you had crashed hard against something and landed right on your butt. You had scraped your knee right through your skirt and felt tears well up in your eyes. "Ugh ow," you heard the sound of a little boy and looked up at him. He was holding his head. His elbow was hurt and his lip seemed to be bleeding too. By now you were fully sobbing from pain and fear of being yelled at by grown ups for not being careful. Now, he was looking at you and he quickly dropped his hand from his head and crawled over to you. "Hey, don't cry. It's okay. My mom says brave kids don't cry," while trying to comfort you he had stood up and was helping you up. The first thing you noticed about him were his big blue eyes. He innocently asked you, “Why were you running?”

“I wanted to be your friend and show you my tree house,” you answered honestly.

“Let’s go then.”

You both limped your way to your backyard and up the tree to your beloved tree house. Little did you know that that was where the both of you would spend your time for the next six years.

---

6 Years Later

“No, Y/N! You’re too old for that tree house now! Just let it go,” your father yelled at you.

Upset beyond belief, you sought comfort in the only place you knew - Sebastian Kydd, the boy who had been your closest friend since you were six. So, you crossed the street over to his house and knocked on the door, once again, with tears in your eyes.

“Hey Y/N, I was going to come over to the tree hou- What’s wrong?” he asked noticing the tears.

Without giving it a second thought, you threw your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a hug. 

“Daddy’s going to take the tree house down.”

“Oh”

Your tears were now wetting his shirt. He pulled you back by the shoulders and said, once again, “Hey, don’t cry. It’s just a tree house.”

You sniffled, “B-b-but what about us? Where w-will we ha-ang out?”

“I’ll figure it out. I promise. Now, go on home and I’ll see you after dinner, okay?”

You nodded knowing he was telling you the truth and that you would see him tonight. You just didn’t know how or where. So, you went about your normal routine. After dinner, you were curled up in your bed with a book and that’s when you heard your window rattle. You got up to go see if a storm had started and pulled the curtain back. You gasped loudly when you saw Sebastian precariously balancing on the outer ledge.

“Jesus Christ, Sebastian are you crazy?” you asked him as you opened the window and he jumped into your room.

“I promised I would see you and I don’t like breaking promises to you.” 

For some reason you felt your heart flutter but you pushed the feeling away, “How did you even get up there?”

“Well, your room is right next to our tree house tree and I’ve been climbing that tree for years. I just climbed a little higher and I could reach your window.”

---

4 Years Later

It was now a usual thing for Sebastian to jump through your window but still, he sometimes managed to scare you. Like this morning, when you had your headphones on and had ‘Danger Zone’ by Kenny Loggins playing on full volume. 

It was the first day of junior year for both of you and you wanted to pump yourself up by having a little solo dance party before school. Of course, you forgot to lock the window and he jumped in rather quietly. You were rocking out an air guitar quite fabulously when you felt someone grab your shoulders.

“AAAHHHH!!! Goddamit Sebastian! You scared me!” He was laughing so hard that he had doubled over, “You know my house has a door right? You don’t always have to use the window.”

He was now sitting on your bed comfortably, “I know but then how else would I catch you dancing?”

You picked up something from the floor and without even looking at what it was, you threw it at him, “You’re so annoying.”

“These are nice,” he had caught what you had thrown at him - your flowery pink bra - it was now dangling by his finger.

You turned red in embarrasment and marched over to him, “Give it back.”

“What? This? No, I think I’ll keep it,” he extended his hand further out of your reach.

“Sebastiannn,” you whined and bent over him trying to reach for the bra. He took his opportunity and tickled your ribs. You jerked away from him, “Don’t you dare, Sebastian Kydd. Just give the bra back to me, please.”

“Come get them.”

You tried to be quicker in bending over him this time but he still managed to tickle you. You lost your balance and at some point during the struggle you realised you were lying on top of him. Suddenly, both of your laughing ceased and you were breathing heavily, so close that you were breathing each other’s air. 

Sebastian gulped, “Y/N, I think I’m going to kiss you now.”

You nodded slightly and before you could even blink, he had leaned up and captured your lips. Both of your inexperience made the kiss fast paced and messy. You’re not entirely sure how but when you eventually pulled away to catch your breath, you saw that it was now Sebastian who was on top of you.

“Y/N,” Sebastian muttered, still trying to catch his breath, “I-I’ve been wanting to tell y-y-you something for a few days now.”

And almost like your minds, bodies and souls had become one you bluttered out, “I really like you.”

The look of shock on his face scared you but that fear melted away as soon as it came because all at once, his face cracked into that beautiful smile that you had come to love because yes, you had known you loved this boy when you had looked into his big blue eyes at the naive age of six.

“Can I take you out on a date today after school?”

You nodded vigorously and this time he bent down to just hug you in the position you were in on the bed. He gave you a quick peck on the cheek, then the lips and went back out that god forsaken window.

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

I hope you enjoyed it @thatonemoviefan 

- Fantasia <3

#austin #butler #austin butler #austin fans #austin butler fans #sebastian kydd #austinbutlersebastian #austin butler sebastian kydd #sebastian kydd fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #request #100 followers #`100 followers celebration #the carrie diaries #the window

[xandriagreat]

The Golden Snake Tooth | Chapter 16

Prologue | Last chapter | Next chapter

Notice/warnings: blame, injury, yelling, caps, crying

▪▪▪

Professor Marmalade, Splaarghön, Shaård, Onsáày, Drillaärgh, and Ghaâstly just taken gotten Snake back from Lucky Jim and the Bucharest Bandits.

They got to a spot in the woods that was almost a few miles away.

“That was too close for comfort.” Splaarghön growled, looking down at Marmalade.

The others nodded, glaring at the guinea pig.

“Don’t blame me.” Marmalade said, glaring back. “Let’s just take care of Snake first. We don’t want to lose any venom of his.”

Drillaärgh nodded and started to help Snake.

Snake’s Golden tooth got cracked when he got knocked out. Thankfully it was a small one but it also means that they need to be careful. Because with one mishap or wrong move, Snake’s golden tooth will become a normal snake tooth.

Drillaärgh got a golden tooth cap that was similar to Snake’s and got it in place. “There we go, it’s good for now.” he said, looking at everyone. “It'll slowly heal on its own and he’ll be back to the Sundrop Snake that we know.”

“Good.” Marmalade said, nodding as he walked to them.

“Good thing it’s not like the incident.” Onsáày said, her arms crossed.

“Agreed.” Shaård said, looking at her.

Ghaâstly snapped her pincers to agree.

Drillaärgh glared at them as he got up. “Are you guys still mad about what happened 19 years ago? I thought that we moved past it.”

Then Ghaâstly started snapping angrily at him. Everyone looked at her as she snapped.

“Um, Ghaâstly… WE DON’T UNDERSTAND WHEN YOU SNAP ANGRILY!” Onsáày shouted at her. “AND WE’RE TALKING TO THE QUEEN BEE! THE QUEEN BEE!”

Everyone got quiet when Splaarghön looked down at everyone and said, “Everyone, let’s talk about this later. We don’t want to let the truth out to Snake. Understand?”

Everyone nodded.

“That’s good.” Marmalade said, looking at everyone. “Now come on. Snake is about to wake up.”

Everyone went to Snake, with their worried and concerned looks on their faces.

◇

Snake groaned and rubbed his head as he woke up.

He felt pain and his head hurt.

He also noticed that he didn’t have his hat.

He saw all five of his caretakers around him, all looking worried at him.

“Oh, Snake!” the caretakers exclaimed in relife.

“Professor Marmalade… Splaarghön… Shaård… Onsáày… Drillaärgh… Ghaâstly…” Snake said as he slowly sat up.

He noticed that they weren’t by the shore but in the woods. “What… what happened?” he asked, looking at them as he lowered his tail down from his head. “How did you all find me?”

Professor Marmalade held Snake’s tail as he explained, “We wanted to see if you were safe when we saw them attack you.”

Snake nodded a bit in understanding and asked, “Did they do anything to me while I was out?”

The grownup shook their heads.

“Ghaâstly and I knocked them out before they could take you away.” Onsáày said while Ghaâstly nodded in agreement.

“They did crack your golden tooth.” Drillaärgh mumbled under his breath.

Snake’s eyes widened when he heard that. “They did what?!” he asked worriedly.

“Don’t worry! I fixed it.” Drillaärgh reassured him. “I put a tooth cap over it, so it’ll heal slowly while you can move your head.”

Snake let his tongue feel his golden tooth, feeling the tooth cap.

Then everyone heard a snap sound. “We need to leave.” Shaård said, looking at everyone as he got his blades out for protection. Everyone nodded and got ready to go.

Snake looked around as everyone got up to go, tears in his eyes.

Splaarghön looked down at him, sadly. “We tried to warn you, Snake.” he said with a sigh.

Then Snake started to cry and lean on Splaarghön. Everyone looked at him as Snake cried, “You were right… You were all right…”

“We know, Snake…” the caretakers said together. “We know…”

They all went to the tower, not knowing that in the shadows, there were four friends and the captain of the kingdom watched this happen.

▪︎▪︎▪︎

Tag list (if you want to be tagged, please let me know): @luonnonvalinnat, @royallydivinelesbian, @monospace13, @mars-wuz-herez, @bezierballad

#the bad guys #the Bad Guys au #the bad guys tangled au #tangled au #Professor Marmalade #Splaarghön #Shaård #Onsáày #Drillaärgh #Ghaâstly #professor rupert marmalade iv #mr. snake #mr snake #the bad guys fic #the golden snake tooth

[kart0]

Venting about me being stupid tw ed and suicide thoughts

...hey

I feel like I should start this by saying I've been actually pretty well lately ! I am drawing again, I lost weight which was something I really wanted, I think I made new friends, and I've been growing a lot on social media - I love the attention btw

So what do I have to complain now ? Dani doesn't this get tiring ? Uhhh yes but it's my blog so FUCK YOU

Anyways, it's exam season and there's a lot of things to do. And I have to mention I am illiterate I do not read nor am good at writing. I guess it has to do with my anxiety, I have a lot of thoughts. A LOT. That keep playing 24/7, so it's kinda hard to write something coherent.

So, I have this class, ceramic class, and I am terrible at it. Like. Super bad. Everything I do looks so bad it's literally disgusting to look at. Ok so we had this essay to do and I did, proudly, and I finish it on time which made me so happy. And I thought I did pretty well in fact !

Hm. Thought. We got our grade today and I got such a bad grade. Like. Not even half of the grade. And now I can't stop crying and feeling so stupid specially because ! Basically everyone in my class uses Chatgpt and gets away with it. And I swore, on my life, that I would never, NEVER, use AI to do my work. To do nothing, really. I have an ego the size of the universe, and I am extremely proud. It's my dignity on risk. What would my parents think of me ? What would I think of myself ???? I would never do that. Instead I keep writing everything on my own, with references of course. I used to think I'd rather get a low grade instead of using chat fucking gpt.

Well, now that I actually got a low grade I am really really upset, and regretful. Why did I have to be so proud and stupidly arrogant with my abilities. I know I FUCKING KNOW I can't write for shit. I keep thinking about how I should've used AI.

And I feel so shitty I skipped dinner tonight. Because I feel like I should starve and die. I do not deserve food. All I have to feel right now is fucking pain, and be miserable. Because I am failing this class. And I know, rationally speaking, this is super dumb. It's just a class and it's just one essay y'know. And I need to eat. Cuz honestly I'm pretty hungry.

But I keep thinking about what I did, and how I could've done so much better. I feel like such a fool.

Such a fucking fool.

And now my thoughts are spiraling, how I should either dropout of college (again btw) or kill myself ! Damn bro. Chill for a second.

And I have been eating less. Too less in fact. That's how I've been able to lose weight. So eating even less each time feels like a sickly accomplishment somehow. And I keep weighing myself everyday, morning and night. Sometimes 10 times a day. And all I want is for the number to get lower. It's so sick I should stop but I don't know how. And I feel so embarrassed and ashamed, I haven't told anyone about this.

I need to lose more weight, I NEED to lose more weight. Keeps on replay, and I work even harder to not eat. It's a game of being unworthy of basic human needs. I am starving myself to death. I know that.

And now I am punishing myself by not eating anything at all because of a fucking essay. Why do I keep doing this. What am I even trying to achieve with this. I keep feeling sick and nauseated and it's so bad and I keep taking pills for headaches and I just feel so... stupid

But I need to see me getting skinnier. I feel proud. And there was a time when this happened before too, when I was 18-19. I was so skinny back then and I did not eat.

And now it's happening again and I can't remember how I stopped the first time.

I don't want to feel sick all the time. I don't want to keep looking at the scale. I don't want to think I have to deserve food.

I don't want to die.

But I want this to be over. So much. And I know it's not the end of the fucking world but why, why does it feel like this all the time. Why can't I be normal, and have normal thoughts, and behave normally, and just be fucking ok for once.

I was doing so well... How did I end up like this again.

When will this ever stop ?

#me #rant #vent #uhhhhh

[roundtriptojupiter]

i just sprinted across campus to escape the rain, and now i want to talk about my experiences as a cane user while i remember how to breathe again.

i started using a cane 4 years ago, at the end of elementary school. i’ve been chronically disabled (likely fibromyalgia, but currently diagnosed with myofascial pain syndrome; it’s an inaccurate diagnosis, but at least it’s something) my entire life—i struggled to sit cross-legged in kindergarten because it hurt too much, and the first accommodation i ever needed was permission to sit in a normal chair during circle time. i was born early, and both of my parents had issues with their legs in their lives; my father as a child learning to walk, and my mother in her teens, until she got knee surgery when she was 19, but neither were the same as what i have.

i’ve always been an indoor person. i’ve never enjoyed sports, but to this day i don’t know if that’s because i genuinely don’t like them, or because i always end up hurt. so my parents always thought i was just lazy and exaggerating and needed to get in shape. the third one always makes me laugh. when i look at myself in the mirror, i can count all of my ribs. i inherited it from my dad; his nickname was ‘rice’ in high school because he was white and skinny. maybe i’ll grow out of it, i don’t know. people tell me i look sick, and it kind of sucks to tell them that they’re right.

the old pastor at the church i grew up in was a professional volleyball player. there was an inter-church volleyball tournament held every year, and monthly volleyball games within the congregation. when i was in elementary school, i loved it. i loved volleyball more than any other sport i’d ever played; for the most part, i didn’t have to run anywhere, and that was what made the difference. and players were swapped around a lot, so i got a lot of breaks, and it seemed like... maybe i had just been lazy. maybe this was my lucky break.

and my parents signed me up for volleyball camp. i don’t remember how old i was—maybe twelve, thirteen? i could do the math, but my brain is too exhausted. it was only a week long. we did drills, we played games; every day i went back to my parents sobbing and exhausted, with burning red marks on my arms, barely able to stand and far worse than any other child there, even the other ‘lazy’ ones. that was the moment everyone in my life finally realized that something was wrong.

thus started a long, frustrating process and the wonders of the canadian healthcare system.

people love to compliment canada’s healthcare. they love to compare it to usamerica’s, they love to stand on their soapbox and say how great it is— i can always tell whether those people are disabled or not. because, yes. there are a lot of pros. but anybody who preaches that it’s wonderful and flawless will get my cane to their shins. because the reality is, the wait lists span years, and even when you live five minutes away from one of the best youth hospitals in the country, maybe even north america, sometimes they’ll put you through hell for three years straight, then give you the wrong diagnosis, throw an attempt at fixing you at the wall that doesn’t work, and then expect you to move on with your life.

i only have two vivid memories of that three-year process while i was still in elementary school: the beginning, and the end. my first major specialist appointment was with a neurologist. he stuck pins in my leg and arm and sent electric shocks through them to evaluate muscle responses. it was one of the worst pains i’ve ever felt. to this day, i can’t sustain a static shock without my leg buckling or my hand seizing up. my mom held my hand, and i was screaming; i still cry when i think about it. the test came back with nothing.

the end was when i finally saw a physiotherapist. at the time, it felt like a miracle; he spoke to me for what seemed like only ten, fifteen minutes, and gave me a diagnosis and a physiotherapy plan. that was in 2021. the physiotherapy turned out to be hell; i only lasted a few months, even doing the most basic of exercises, and my parents grew sour at the idea of driving me to the other end of the city on a regular basis. so that all shattered into nothingness.

but that’s all just an aside: the real point is, the first time i used a cane was on a school trip to a large city, at the end of elementary school. it was going to involve a lot of walking; something i knew by that point would be difficult. and so my mother gave me a gift. an old, simple, dark red, wooden cane. the same one she’d used in her teen years before her surgery, and kept just in case. i genuinely don’t know if it’s good or not; i don’t know if i could afford a better one. i’m still using it. i think buying a new one would make the reality too real—that i will not get a magic fix, like my mother did.

on that trip, my very first time using a cane, with my grade eight class, was the also the first time that anybody made fun of it. while walking through the city in small groups, another boy in my class called me a grandma from across the street. i ran after him and hit him (not hard) with it, and he kept his mouth shut for the rest of the trip.

when i started grade nine, my high school was a twenty-to-thirty minute walk from my house. (another aside, shorter this time: after almost every other form of exercise was slowly nixed out of my life, walking became my everything. it still kills, but it’s better than anything else.) and it was too much. by the time i reached school every day, i was unable to stand for the national anthem. that was when the cane became a regular part of my life; i took it with me every day for support while i walked, and even when i didn’t need it, it made my disability somewhat more visible. the respectful people saw it and realized that there was something wrong with me. the assholes saw it and were assholes.

here’s another thing about me: i used to have a cousin. i have a lot of cousins, actually, but the one in question was almost my twin. we were born in the same week, and shared a birthday every year growing up, and looked nearly identical—when our hair was the same length, that is. he and i were complete opposites in most other respects; i was a quiet, well-behaved (read: neurodivergent) kid, and he was a loud, trouble-making (read: neurodivergent) kid. but we got along. and we went to the same high school, and it always stunned people to find out that we were cousins.

in grade nine one of my cousin’s friends made fun of my cane, in front of him and me. my cousin shoved his own friend against a locker and threatened him because of it. i wasn’t made fun of for my cane at that school for the rest of my time there (unless you count the things that people say when they don’t mean to be mean, but have also never witnessed someone my age with a cane before. i don’t, but they still hurt.)

my cousin’s gone now. he overdosed on xanax and killed himself in october. it’s my fondest memory of him, when he turned on his own friend to defend me. i didn’t see him for two years before he passed because of covid quarantines and precautions. i genuinely don’t remember the last time i did see him.

and here’s one last thing: people think that growing up disabled with a parent that had suffered similarly would make things easier. but it was the opposite. because my mother wasn’t chronically disabled. she had horrible knee problems that were fixed after years of physiotherapy and a major operation. she was also labeled as gifted and diagnosed with something i forget the name of, which means that it takes more effort for her to perform tasks than it does for other people. and all that has done is this:

a more recent story. i’m currently spending a month living in québec on a university campus. initially, i was slotted to be staying in an off-campus apartment; they moved me to a residence building before i arrived because they knew of my disability. my room is on the fourth floor. there is no elevator. i wonder every day if my would-have-been apartment would have had less stairs.

my mother drove me there. when we arrived, she carried my suitcase up the stairs for me, because i was incapable of doing so myself. and when i complained, mostly lightheartedly—“oh, doing these stairs is going to suck all month”—she turned on me and told me that when she had been just a little bit older than me, she’d done a program in québec and lived on the third floor with no elevator, and she’d just had major knee surgery. and she’d been fine.

it was nothing for her. i still remember her exact words, four weeks later. i don’t know if she’ll ever truly take me seriously, because to her, she was disabled too, and she got through it. i’ve yet to find a way to convince her that it’s different. that not everything has a magic cure if you just work through it.

i’m eighteen now. she was nineteen when she had knee surgery. maybe when i turn nineteen, i’ll finally get a new cane. it’ll be symbolic, of something. i don’t know what. hopefully i’ll figure it out.

#jupiter.txt #monty.txt #is this poetry? maybe #disability #disabled #cane user #ableism #suicide mention #okay to reblog