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#rat writes
mrghostrat · 2 days
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flawless (E) (36k) (FIN)
Aziraphale steadfastly reminded himself this was a good thing. It hurt like nothing had ever hurt before, but the silver lining was actually bright, and broad, and glistened like diamonds. If he focused on that light ahead, he might not even feel the chill of the rain where it continued to pummel him.
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ghostsbimbo · 4 months
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TF141 x Disabled!Reader; Cerebral Palsy
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a/n: writing this from my own experience. i am mobile & independent w/o aids due to years of physical therapy, but it's getting harder. Please note, this disability is rare. There isn't much representation in media either, it's quite hard to find, there's 2 or 3 actors, a comedian or two. so I kind of want a small thing, y'know?
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Task Force 141 [ General Statement ]
Okay, so this disability is rare (200k cases per year in the US - I do not know about other countries). I have the genuine belief that when they first meet you and you tell them that you have the disability, they actually start looking it up right in front of you. Not only out of curiosity, but because they want to help you.
John Price
He knew it was one of those days for you. He could tell just from you sitting up in bed and hearing the wince you had tried so hard to hide from him. He sighed softly, mentally questioning himself before finally deciding to ask it. "Wheelchair and cane day, love?" "Yeah...Wheelchair and cane day." You admitted, sighing softly. He sat up and leaned over, kissing your head before getting out of your shared bed, ready to help get you whatever you needed.
Simon "Ghost" Riley
You two were at home while he was on leave, eating dinner - steak, a favorite of yours - but you were struggling with cutting it with the knife. Growing up physical therapy focused on the use of your dominant hand - especially with writing - so when it came to using your non-dominant hand? it was beyond a struggle to do things. Cutting up foods was one of them. "You want my help, love?" Simon asked, tilting his head. He understood you didn't like asking him for help, he understood you wanted independence when it came to even the simplest things, but he could also tell when you were getting frustrated. You simply nodded, placing the fork and knife down and carefully pushing the plate over to his side for help.
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
You tried your best to not be a messy eater. Like, to the point where you were constantly wiping your mouth, taking small bites of food, eating slow. but then there were days you just couldn't put that much brain power into being a conscious eater. It was a 'low spoons day' as you put it. Your body already hurt constantly due to your stiff muscles, which took a lot out of you on rainy days, so why make the effort to not be messy considering your body was already in so much pain. "Babe...You uh, got a little..." Gaz started, before getting a paper towel and carefully wiping the ice cream off your upper lip and the tip of your nose. You just blushed brightly and mumbled out a quick thank you and an apology. He just let out a soft chuckle and smiled at you. "It's alright, love, at leas you're enjoying something today, yeah?"
Johnny "Soap" MacTavish
You were scuffing your feet instead of actually walking walking. A habit that took years of physical therapy to break. You liked not having to think about not having to walk when you were in pain, but not many other people appreciated the noise. It irritated them. And that's how you got where you are now. In your work's break room, shakily texting your boyfriend to come pick you up. A customer had berated you in front of other customers and your boss in the store. He did get kicked out by your manager of course, but due to you being low spoons, that was your breaking point. Johnny was aloud in the break room on these kind of days. It was something your manager understood you might need on certain days. "C'mon love, you already clocked out, right?" You nodded and you guys walked out to his car, hand in hand with him rubbing small soothing circles on the back of your hand.
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ratmom819 · 10 months
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okay but imagine a snake gets into grimmauld place somehow, and sirius is so confused when everyone calls for, not an adult, but harry. sirius is especially confused by fred and george, who are calling for "the heir of slytherin" for some reason. and then sirius is even MORE confused when harry comes in and starts speaking parseltongue to the snake, and then picks it up as it hisses back, even sirius is like 90% sure it's a venomous species, which is confirmed by the horrified look on remus's face when he walks in.
harry looks up and sees their faces and is like, "oh, it's fine, he's just looking for a place to cool off. hey, we don't have any mice around here do we? he's a little hungry."
all the kids are going back to what they were doing like this is somehow normal.
"you're a parselmouth?" sirius asks.
harry looks confused when he responds, "skeeter literally reported it in the prophet a few months ago."
"I ASSUMED SHE WAS LYING?"
fred and george are now calling harry variations of "heir of slytherin," including "lord of slytherin," "mightiest lord of all snakes," etc, until finally sirius has to ask about that too, and that's how she learns that her godson defeated a basilisk at the age of 12. this is both utterly terrifying and extremely impressive to sirius, who then has a parenting crisis because she doesn't want to encourage harry to go out and fight giant snakes but she's also so fucking proud of him.
harry, meanwhile, is now trying to convince hedwig to catch a mouse for the snake, a suggestion she is clearly offended by, and fred and george are conjuring magnificent green carpets in front of harry's feet as if he's royalty. and so now ginny is trying to use the carpets to trip people, and when she successfully trips ron they get into a shouting match, which means pig is flying around their heads screeching.
sirius is pretty sure it's the loudest grimmauld place has ever been, and he can't help but think back to their summers at the potter mansion, and when they catch a fond look in remus's eye as he backs out of the room, sirius knows he's thinking the same thing.
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golden-rats · 1 year
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Fall of a sinner
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Aaaaahh finally got around to finish this. I am not entirely satisfied but my brain can't sit on this any longer. So take what you get my heathens.
Secondo having a little degradation kink.
Pairing: Secondo x GN!Reader
Words: 2.7k
Rating: Mature, so MDNI
Tags: Praise and degradation, handjob, teasing
You can also read it on AO3 here
Secondo only trusted you with this secret. Never really saying it out loud.
But you know.
You know by the way he slithers into your room at the dead of night.
You know by the way his gaze gets sheepish if it lingers on you for too long.
How he lets you touch him, caress his cheeks while your mouth spills words that make his legs tremble.
His cheeks under the paint burning red from the heat rising from the pit of his stomach. He's an open book to you. Spreading his pages just like his legs.
You're the only person to know and it's clear he'd raise hell if that ever got out. The punishment you place on him would be a walk in the park to how he'd shred you and your life to pieces.
But that's the exciting part, no?
"...I was good today."
Looking up from the book you were reading before bed, you saw a tall, dark figure looming in the doorway. Closing the door quietly behind him. His pace fast, coming over with long steps.
"And who are you to decide that?" You didn't sound very impressed with his claim. Turning your page. It was all part of the game. Part of something dangerous.
"How can I convince you then, amore?"
With a sigh you closed your book. Crossing your legs as you eyed the moody scary Papa. He didn't look so scary anymore. Not with the way he stood there, weight shifting from one foot to the other. Embarrassment written on his face.
"You really need my help for everything? Asking instead of trying. And what happens when I tell you? Will you follow order, be a good boy with it and expect a reward?" You could hear his breath hitch. Before getting shallow. Stepping closer to the armchair you've been sitting in.
"Or will you use it to tease and make a scene as bratty bottom just to get a reaction? Proving all you are is a sub who needs some manners taught? Enjoying it. The attention. The thrill. Chasing these fun little meetings." Lifting one hand, you signaled Secondo to close the distance between you. Which he willingly did. He came to a halt right in front of you.
Grabbing the fabric of his robe. Getting your grasp on his collar as he bent down. Staring into his mismatched eyes, mercilessly.
"Mhm getting excited, are we? Bet your mind is running with all sorts of things I could ask of you to prove how good of a boy you are…" One thumb trailing over his lips, smearing the paint slightly. You leaned your head to the side, giving him some time and the opportunity to answer. He swallowed. Eyes closed. It still wasn't easy for him to let go like that.
"Do you get aroused? Nervous? I'd really like to know what it is you'd expect from me. And how willing you'd be to fulfill. With how much resistance. Debating which side of yourself you want to show now." Your tone got quiet, alluring. Placing your hand on his chest. That's when he looked back at you. Getting hungry.
"The brat that thinks they could really dom one day? For the right person? Be fully in charge and have someone on their knees obeying your every command? Hungry for attention, not necessarily affection. Just knowing you see them." And with those words you pushed him. He stumbled as you got up. Falling backwards, landing right at your feet.
You stepped over him. Feet placed left and right from his waist on the ground. Looking down on your Papa. In more than one way. His robe was thin, showing the outlines of a bulge beginning to form. Soon you'd have him right where you wanted.
"Or will you fall back into the you that thoroughly enjoys it all. Having the status as toy. Still earning respect and getting adored. Being so fun to play with. To care for." He tried to push himself up on his elbows and forearms. Getting a better look at you. Awaiting your next action. And it followed almost immediately.
With a swift kick you shoved his arm away, making him fall back once more. Sinking down you hovered over him. Crouching. Seeing his chest rise and fall rapidly, shallow. You licked your lips.
"Let me know how I can provide for your needs. I'll be good and gentle. Unless you want me not to, which will suit me much, much better…" Running both your hands over his body. Feeling the delicate embroidery on silk fabric. The combination of green and black always suited him. It was your favorite look on Secondo. Too bad part of it will be ruined shortly. Or so you hoped, if he really was that perfect boy.
He let out a shaking breath before talking. His voice low and raspy. "Use me."
Even if you wanted to, you just couldn't stop the grin on your lips beginning to spread. The air was filled with an electric energy. "Just how I like it. And it doesn't take much effort to play by the rules, right? You sometimes play smug and hard to get. Trying to be witty. But you're not as good at this game as you might think you are, Papa~"
You're chuckling as he bucks his hips. Brushing against your butt. He's getting impatient. And big. Growling under his breath. His eyes searching your face, gazing down your body.
"While it is true you're entertaining…" Your hands that wandered over his chest now came to a hold near his throat.
"You're also just giving me right what I want. In the end it all comes down to the same result. Whichever way you see it, pleasure is what awaits… You just earn it differently."
Bending down you pecked a kiss on his lips. Whispering against them.
"Sometimes I even see you as reward. What it does to my ego to know you sit there, staring at my lips and waiting to hear these words. To know you're waiting for me to give you more. To know I'm someone who can rile you up. This is my high I'm chasing right now."
Leaning in, hesitantly at first, your lips met in a soft, tentative kiss. The taste of whiskey still lingered on his lips. You felt his arms rising to wrap around your waist. Fingers trailing along your spine. Goosebumps rolling over your whole body.
Being so near, his scent fills your senses. The leather from his gloves, it got stronger the more he wandered up your back. He wore cologne. You were sure it was expensive and well picked out. He took his time so it would match his preferences. It was strong but not uncomfortable. It mixed well with the faint scent of incense his robe carried. Sandalwood. It was very pleasing.
Almost addicting. You came back from your thoughts and broke the kiss. Straightening your posture and now kneeling completely. Sitting on his lap. Which greeted you with a hard on.
"Mhm I see~ What more do you want? I want to hear it from you. Speak up. You know how to talk, right? What do you want me to do. Lay out your thoughts for me. Let me poison your mind."
All the while you were speaking, your hips started to circle. You knew exactly what you were doing. Feeling two strong hands on your hips. Gripping them. A low moan hanging in the air.
"Tell me how much you like the way I treat you. The things I make you do. Make you think about."
The silk rustled between your bodies. You felt his cock twitch beneath you.
"I want it. I want all of it. I love it. How you treat me, how you can make me obey so easily. Probably more than I should. I even like that you remind me of the shameful things I've done. How flustered I get."
Secondo tried to move his hips on his own, grinding against you. But a hand around his throat signaled him it was a bad idea. He didn't have the right to act upon his wishes. Not now.
"What do you feel shame for? It's not like your existence isn't already shameful enough. There's nothing I wouldn't expect of you. You're desperate. A whore. Doing anything for just some attention. You have no right to feel ashamed. You have nothing to be ashamed of because you are nothing. The things I make you do are for my pleasure."
"Tesoro…" The next thing he felt was the lack of air. You squeezed his neck just ever so slightly. Enough for him to notice. To whimper.
"You say it's shameful? You say I should feel shame for the things I enjoy? Watching you, hearing you talk about the filthy tasks you do. That's my pleasure. And nothing you should feel shame for!" Release. A gasp. His nails digging into your skin, through your clothes.
It was almost amusing how he searched for words. Trying to phrase them right. Was it to earn pleasure or punishment? You were never too sure regarding your Papa.
"Shame for being so desperate. I don’t even think in the moment. I just do whatever I do, without even looking further. Because you ask me to. It reminds me of how low I am. But I like the feeling. Am I even allowed to like it?"
He keeps crawling back to you. It's delightful. You saw him on his hands and knees. You saw him in a collar. You watched as he filled his own desires. Jerking off as you observed. Knowing how low he'd dive for you. No, not necessarily you. Just this… situation. Whatever it was that you had going on.
"I allow you to…" Sometimes it was hard to deny what you really saw in him. And how much you needed him as he needed you.
The kiss that followed next was passionate, almost feverish, as if you had been waiting for this moment for a long time. As you kissed, both hands moved in a slow dance, exploring each other's bodies and discovering new sensations. His moans and gasps filled the room, echoing off the walls.
He started grinding against you even more. You had to put a stop to this before it got out of hand, it wasn't time for his reward yet. And you couldn't let him have the upper hand.
"Now now, what's the rush? Calm down and tell me what you want… And be a little more quiet, someone might hear you~ We don't want that, right?"
His movements came instantly to a halt. Averting his gaze for just a few seconds. Mumbling as he tried to steady his voice. Sounding serious all of a sudden.
"You're the only one that gets to see this side of me. And you very well know that. I would never purposefully attract any attention from outsiders."
"The only one? Then I'll make sure it stays that way. That those wishes and wants that come straight out your whore mouth will be for me only. I want to drag you to lows and places you didn't dream of before. Make you explore and realize how rewarding a life on your knees will be. I'll kiss you with soft feathers while the impact of my whip like words is yet to come. You'll ask and beg, whether it be for more or to finally give you release. You're at my hands mercy. Choking out your desires. Utilizing them for your benefit... Or mine."
Your words were accompanied by hungry hands. Releasing his throat you wandered down. Over his chest. His broad build, not exactly muscular. Secondo had curves and something to dig your fingers into. You've seen his bare skin before. Decorated with fine dark hair, just like his arms. You could feel the tension beneath your touch. The movement between his legs.
"I'm yours to please, cuore mio. Make me forget who I am for just a while. I am no Papa under you. I am no more than a dog. That's how low I'd sink for you." The rasp in his voice increasingly turned you on. The needy undertone.
"Mhm I get the thrill my little fucktoy. Maybe you do need a collar. A nice and tight one. With some functions I could control. Wouldn't that be nice? I'd love to see you writhe and whimper being with your brothers, at a ceremony, with the ghouls. Feeling soft pricks of electricity or vibrations sinking into your skin. I'd have my name engraved on one side and dog on the other. Since you clearly don't even deserve a name."
You smiled, he didn't. His eyes widening. Curiosity, excitement sparking in them. The possibility of getting caught. Of someone to find out.
"You're going to ruin me. I curse at how much I enjoy that thought. You truly must have put a spell on me- A-Ahh.." Throwing back his head he couldn't stifle a moan as you shifted your weight and sat right on top of his boner. It must be leaking at this point.
"My spit on the ground has more worth than you'll ever get to experience, slut. You can be happy I agreed to this." Squeezing his tits you drew more lovely sounds from his lips.
Pathetic. The way he presented himself. Needy. Desperate. So out of character for the stoic old man. But then again, it was all a facade. Of course he needed to unwind in some way or another.
Secondo behaved, you had to give him credit for that. Adding more attention to his bottom half, rolling your hips.
"My my, you're so close already and I barely touched you. Did you try and get off by yourself earlier? Is that why you came to me?"
His lips parted but no words began to form. Applying pressure to his cock he moaned once more. Sharply inhaling.
"Touch yourself."
"What?"
Swatting his hands from your body you got up. Stepping over him and back to your chair. Sinking into it and staying silent for a few heartbeats.
"You started this alone so you will end this alone. Come on now, I want to see you pant and writhe under your own touch. Can you do that for me?"
All you got was a nod. Again he steadied himself, remaining on the floor, leaning on one arm while his other trailed to his hot core. The bulge was undeniable at this point. A small wet spot already formed.
"Leave your clothes on. I won't risk getting your disgusting cum over my floor. You will get nice and clean later."
The thought of him sneaking around the abbey in dirty underwear was rewarding.
Secondo stroked his dick, trying to somehow wrap his hand around, pumping it. His eyes drifting towards yours, holding the stare. Panting. And you? You did nothing but sit and watch. He wasn't worthy of your effort.
"Hah… You're so good to me.. Look at what you make nhhng me do.."
It didn't take long for him to fasten his pace. Getting erratic. Breath quickening together with his pulse.
"Can I-"
"Yes you can come. You asked so nicely~"
In a disappointingly short amount of time he finished. Sloppy last thrusts into his hand. Growling as he hunted for just a bit more friction. Your room filled with his cries, as if he had forgotten other people lived near.
His mismatched eyes fluttered close. Concentrating on catching his breath. To come down from his high. The ecstasy your meetings brought him. But no, you didn't give him the time he needed. He had to collect himself and get out.
"What a perfect little toy you are. You're so good for me. Look at you all spent and filthy."
Your Papa sat up properly. For the last time this night you walked back over to him. Patting his cheek and placing a kiss on his forehead. He deserved affection.
He was your good boy after all.
Huge thanks to @applesauceandpeanutbutter for giving me inspiration to start this 💚
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ghostsbimbowrites · 1 month
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3 poems for my English class
so I'm taking creative writing this semester! We had to do an ode to things that people don't usually find beautiful, a prose poem to something haunting, and a pocket poem. TW: One poem heavily implies self harm/self injury. I've been working on these since March 7th, and just now got the last poem done.
please note: I AM OKAY. my inner 13 year old self took over writing these and I am so sorry.
Beauty of Growth Dark, deep purple lines stand out on her thighs & arms Showing health & growing in an unsightly way Causing years of insecurity and self doubt But with love and care, people's feelings change Just like the person looking in the mirror. She can start to see the beauty In being healthy again She starts to appreciate where she has gotten From the long journey of recovery & years of self hatred. She’s starting to love herself again, despite the dark, deep purple lines.
A scream for help. [ TW: Self harm implied. ] It’s an all too familiar feeling. The scars scattered across my body from the self inflicted pain show it. They’re permanent & they’re not going anywhere despite the scar removal creams and countless other things out on the market that promise to make them go away. That familiar feeling though will always be stuck, even if the scars do fade over time and become less noticeable. It’ll always be the thing I want to turn to when things get rough. I will always want that familiar calming sting. I’ll always want the sight of blood just to know that whatever emotional turmoil I’m going through is real. Even though, once in a while, that feeling will return even if I’m okay. I’m going to want the sting, the blood, and the numb feeling a razor brings.
Shutting things up Shutting the world away Would make life so much easier for healing, won’t it? 
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trashratsaws · 1 year
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Okay so I caved and watched Goncharov (1973) and I have opinions to say.
So you know that scene where Katya and Goncharov have their first sort of argument which isn’t really an out loud argument but you can sort of tel it’s the beginning of the breakdown of their relationship because everything they say is so fucking tinged with hate. Like for real De Niro’s line delivery in this scene is unfuckingbelievable. But anyway, after they sort of come to a stalemate and Gonch leaves the room the clock stops ticking again which as we know is never insignificant it is always a reoccurring symbol for the broken passage of time which gets more frantic as the movie progresses.
What I found which made me insane was that when Katya leaves the room after Gonch, she kind of notices the clock, which the other characters don’t really ever do except for Sofia at the end, and she kind of smacks her lips and mutters “damn thing” before walking out of the room??? The sound of her heels was perfectly in time with the ticking of the clock when it started up again, with two heel clicks for every one tick of the clock, so they’re in time, but Katya is moving a little faster. In this scene, where Goncharov and Katya are just beginning to fall apart, and where Katya is so clearly aware of what is going to happen to them and to her, she directly acknowledges the thing that is going to destroy her, and in her first act of defiance she is trying to move faster than time. LIKE Y’ALL.
Also Katya’s acknowledgement of the clock makes us sort of aware that SHE is aware that time is kind of broken? Like she knows that the way WE as the audience are seeing these events is not accurate, and she is aware of what is really happening, meanwhile she has to go on as a player in the story because inevitably nobody can outstep time. THE FUCKING LAYERS PEOPLE ITS KILLING ME.
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soullessrat · 1 year
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In the desert, a boy sings with such grace
His voice echoes through the open space
A soulful melody that carries far
Across the land and beyond the stars
Another boy so far away, a love so true
His heart beats for this boy, he knew
Though distance may keep them apart
Their love will always be in their heart
The singing boy, with his guitar
Plays a song that travels far
To the ears of his love so far away
Bringing comfort at the end of the day
The long distance lover, with eyes closed tight
Listens to the song throughout the night
Feeling the warmth of his lover's embrace
Through every note, every word, every grace
Oh, how sweet the sound of love
As it travels from the country to above
A melody that knows no bounds
A love that forever surrounds
Though oceans may keep them apart
Their love is stronger than any heart
And with every song the boy sings
Their love will fly on angels wings
So sing on, dear boy, sing on with glee
Your love will travel across the sea
And in the heart of your love so true
Your song will always ring anew
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lillygene · 1 year
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Me When I Realize I Never Posted My Writing Examples - Rat
Wow... shame on me huh? As compensation here are two stories I typed up recently! They are in relation to my own Call Of Duty oc, as well as Calmly.mangled on Tiktok's character.
Evelyn belongs to me, while Teddy/Cameron is Mangled's character!
Content Warning: Violence, alcohol, me pretending I know anything about the military in the slightest!
It had only taken five minutes for the first guy to hit the ground with an ugly smack. His nose was twisted up awkwardly, and his eyes had rolled back into his head long before his body stopped falling. 
Before that, Cameron had actually been enjoying himself. He was freshly nineteen, and a good year and a half into his days in the service. He had signed up for the marines the moment he could, he was hardly a day into his seventeenth year around the sun when he made the conscious decision to apply himself. 
The marines had been the obvious choice, for a few reasons. The one that sat heavy on the forefront of his mind was his father’s legacy. Left behind for him to shoulder. Cameron’s father had been in the army. He was damn good at it, too. There was nobody who could deny that. His father was good at his job. 
Now, what that actually meant for the boy was a different story. He’d spent seventeen years with a man who didn’t understand the expression to leave your work at the door. His home life had been work just as well. At least he had treated it as such. 
Army, they had a certain way of doing things. A particular way, it was their own. Cameron had a legacy to uphold, but it was also like second nature. He was raised on those ways, he didn’t really know anything besides the army. 
It had been a perfect choice in hindsight. He was going to make it into the military, one way or another, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t choose something for himself. Marines and army. They never got along. Then again, you could have said that for basically any branch of any force. Secret service versus the bureaucrats. Bureaucrats versus the military. Ok, it was really everyone versus the bureaucracy, then anyone versus each other. 
But the Marines and the Army had a long standing rivalry, one that was highlighted more prominently than the others. Usually it was seen as some inside joke. A way for civilians to nudge their buddy and go ‘Yeah, those Marines, right?’ 
There was a severity to it however. The army had their way, the marines had their own. It was a whole new playing field to adjust to, but Cameron was actually pretty good at that. 
See, the second reason for joining the military had to do with yet another thing the boy had put up with all his life. He was a fish out of water, for reasons uncontrollable by him. Cameron had always been, and still was, a large body amidst the crowd. He stood at 7’3, with the scale leaning well into the 200s. 
He could remember a time back in grade school, a time that set the precedent for the rest of his life. People had always commented on how tall he was when he was growing up, but they had always been harmless jokes. ‘Your boy is so big! Tell him to stop growing for me, okay?’ The ladies across the street would coo. Or his father’s coworkers would smack him on the back with a big grin. ‘He’ll make a fine young man, strong too.’ 
None of the kids in his class said that. It was around the time everyone was gaining consciousness. Which was really bad news for Cameron. He looked different than everyone, he talked differently too. Courtesy of his old man. 
Most ignored him, some stared in confusion or concern. However the isolation was the best part, sometimes he was met with a challenge. Someone didn’t like him because he was different. It scared them. People do stupid things when they’re scared. ‘What are you looking at?’ He remembered the first time a kid a year above him had asked him that. 
Nine years in the future he was hearing those words again. On a Tuesday night in an un-crowded bar, just ten minutes from base. Except they didn’t come from a scrawny boy with braces. It came from a man who stood level with his neck, glaring up into his eyes. 
Technically, Cameron shouldn’t have been there at all. He was only nineteen after all, far from the legal drinking age. He definitely looked the part however, and nobody ever died from a sip. Not really at least. Now he was wondering otherwise. 
“What are you looking at, punk?” The man asked again. Apparently from his quiet position on the uncomfortable bar stools, he had let his sight wander onto the agitated figure. It wasn’t anything personal, he had just been in his thoughts for a spell. Just staring without a word, indignation present on his features. He was paying attention now, and what was looking at him wasn’t really pretty. The man had to be older than him by just a few years, but he looked worse off. When he spoke his teeth barred, they were almost rotten. He had a bad haircut, too. Both on his head and his face. It looked like he had done it piss-drunk. Given the way he was talking, maybe he had. 
“Nothing really.” Cameron shrugged. Bad move. 
“Wrong answer.” 
And it had been, just not for Cameron. Two figures behind the grotesque man stood up. Their stools scraped loudly against the wooden flooring. The noise alerted the other people in the room. The bartender, two women in their forties in a corner booth, an elderly man, and two more men. The two men were seated near the door, and only one of them reacted past the initial concerned glance. He stood up, joined the three forms in front of Cameron. They looked like a real gnarly group. The part was definitely played well. Growing beards, deep nicks in their skin. There was some hardened muscle he saw peaking through their relatively worn clothes. 
He weighed his options, placed his drink down and swiveled in his seat. “How so?” 
There was no teasing tone to his voice, nothing that could have been taken as anything but just a question. The men didn’t see it that way. It was a challenge. The first guy snarled, like a wild hog. 
“Cause there’s four of us and one of you.” 
Cameron paused for a moment. Technically, the guy was doing everything right. There were four men standing together, and on the outside they looked like a real United force. But that was often a pipe dream. A fantasy thought up to dispel the action before it even happened. Some of the time it worked, most of the time it didn’t. Once the big guy went down, a good portion would get cold feet. In any group, from three to a thousand men. Someone always tried to worm themselves out. 
“Are you sure about this?” Cameron asked, he was beginning to stand now. Not to fight, not just yet.  
The guy opened his mouth to say something, his fist had begun to raise. But he never got the chance to speak, as his lips parted, Cameron’s hand shot forward. The cigarette punch was something he had seen his dad perform before, even in the comforts of his own home. It gets it’s name from the action. You offer a guy a cigarette, and when he goes to open his mouth you bust him in the jaw. 
Except Cameron’s hands were large, and the guy’s mouth was small. He had accomplished his goal of knocking some of his teeth loose (if not, out completely), but he had also hit his nose pretty hard. Which could have been a bad thing. It was an easy way to kill a man. He got a decent look at him from his position on the floor. His hands were starting to cup his face and he was turning white. 
“You should help your buddy out. He needs it.” 
Two men looked at each other, and then down at the first guy. The second in command, he had guessed, rushed towards him with a fiery expression. It was a futile attempt. He didn’t try punching Cameron, which in itself was smart. But he had attacked him all the same, which wasn’t. 
He barreled forward with his arms outstretched, trying to pile drive him into the back wall. His shoulder hit Cameron’s gut harshly, but he only slid a few inches backwards. The taller of the two just stared down at the pathetic attempt. He huffed a little, then promptly locked his arms around the guy’s own waist. He mimicked his movements, but he wasn’t trying to push this guy. 
Instead he lifted him up, and slung him over his shoulder. It was a mostly effortless movement, if not for the weak kicks and punches in attempt to free himself. He wanted to be let down? Fine. He launched the guy over his back. He heard the thud against the ground first, then he spun on his heel and kicked the guy square in his chest before he could try and stand again. 
He would be surprised if he walked away without a few broken ribs. Two down. The math was working in his favor. 
Cameron’s dad’s lessons hadn’t all been awful. He always spoke about getting the first hit in. Usually the advice went better for smaller fighters. They had to get the first hit in. If they didn’t, there was a fifty percent chance they wouldn’t get any in. They’d be dead on the floor before the thought could cross their mind. Cameron never needed that, he was a big guy. He withstood a lot. 
But he had a pretty big ego too. So he always liked getting the first hit in, if he had to. Which meant he didn’t wait around for one to get him. He watched the remaining guy’s reactions. One dropped to the floor, the other stared at him like mad. 
See, someone always gave in. A smile graced his tight jaw. He took two big steps forward, two steps and he was standing inches from the last fighter. He, too, tried to raise his fist to punch up at Cameron. But their height difference meant he was swinging like a baseball bat. All it took was a calm side step, and the man’s punch made contact with the air. He had put so much energy into the movement that the follow through left him stumbling over himself. 
Then he was falling. 
Cameron watched the movement, almost like it was in slow motion. He thought yet again, then decided there would be consequences if he let himself wind up another punch. So instead he twisted, and brought his forearm forward. It was a heavy blow to the side of the guy’s temple, and it stalled his falling trajectory. He stumbled again, then the pain set in and he hit the floor like a ton of bricks. 
His arm hurt, a lot more than a punch would have. He went out of his way to not give the guy permanent brain damage. He was doing him a favor. Cameron sneered, and rubbed his arm softly. It would probably bruise in the morning. But it wasn’t broken, so he didn’t mind all too much. 
There was silence, nobody said a thing. Nobody even moved. His head turned to the guy at the bar. He continued to massage his limb. “You see anything?” Cameron asked, raising a brow. 
The bartender didn’t look as shocked as the other patrons did. He just shrugged, tossed a towel over his shoulder. “Nothing.” 
“Not a thing.” He said again, this time louder. Not for Cameron’s sake, but for the women trembling in the corner. They got the hint, nodded towards Cameron. He felt a little bad, making them scared. But it was for his own good. He just sent three guys to the hospital, he didn’t need to be paying their bills too. 
He didn’t get the chance to ask the question to the fourth guy, he was clutching the first guy and shaking him awake. When he noticed his stare he seemed to shrink even more. “Nothing!” He called from the floor, his hands shaking. He looked like a terrified dog. 
“Really, nothing.” Cameron spoke with a grin, directed at the group. 
With his final words, he turned to the exit, but not before placing two twenty dollar bills on the counter. It wasn’t a lot, but then again nothing had been broken. Nothing that the bartender should have cared about anyways. He heard a dial tone, and the frantic words being pushed out to the operators on the other line.  
He had half a mind to turn around and watch the conversation. Then he heard a string of words that made him smile yet again. ‘It was some crazy accident. I don’t know how it happened.’ 
He didn’t need to stick around, he was sure the guy had enough sense to keep up with the lie. Cameron made it to the door and opened it with a shove. The cool evening air hit him. 
Then, without much thought to it, he turned his gaze in the direction of base and started walking.
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I'm realizing how long this post is so I'll make a part two </3!
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cheddertm · 1 month
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I REALLY KEEP CHANGING THE NAME OF MY MAIN CHARACTER BC I THINK OTHER NAMES ARE BETTER AND ITS CRAZYYY
also cause i want them to have a theme to em so I'm changing em so like uh,,,,,,,
what are cool desserts lmao [i'm so hungry]
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puppygirlkat · 6 months
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I think about how I can bend my ankles 90 degrees. I think about how i can stack my fingers and hook them around each other. I think about how I can bend my knees back 20 degrees. I think about how this happens often when I walk. When i stand I have to focus to make sure I am not hypextending my knees. I think about how my knees wobble and buckle.
I went to the store yesterday. I bought nuggets, lunchmeat, ramen, bananas, raspberries, apples, a loaf of soft wheat bread, a loaf of nicer 11 grain bread, lactase enzyme, razors, and two tubes of red matte lip cream. The bag was very heavy for me. 15lbs. My arm was a taut rope spinning freely every time i bumped into the bag. My shoulder was raised high compensating for the weight. It felt as though it could pop out of its socket at any moment. I thought, are limbs supposed to do this? My knees started to wobble towards the end of the trip. I felt as though bones were grinding against each other. I stumbled going up the stairs to my apartment. Inside, I sat down for a few minutes. I put the groceries away. I laid down. My joints burned and ached. I felt thankful I wore tights. I always wear tights when I go out. The thicker and the more they compress my legs the better. I dont feel comfortable without them. I wonder now if this is compensating. I remember when I used to go out walking before I came out. My knees would always hurt a lot. I rarely went out because of it. An unfortunate cycle.
I had to replace my boots recently. The padding had worn thin. I would stand around on the sides of my feet, flexing my ankles back and forth, standing on my soles, standing on the sides. A form of fidgeting.
I walk on my toes sometimes. I often walk up stairs on my toes. I walk around the apartment on my toes, pretending I am wearing 6 inch heels. It feels fun for a period. It feels like it exercises my thighs and calves. Often when I go on walks I stretch out my arms, look at the ground, and walk around on my toes. I pretend I am undergoing a sobriety test. I dont drive. I try to walk as straight as I can. It is difficult. I meander as a sine wave. I pretend I am a bird and flap my arms.
In my old worn out boots my knees would wiggle all over the place. I would hobble down the street. My ankles would bend and curve and twist. I always assumed twisting your ankles meant your foot was facing backwards. My friend told me what it actually means. I thought to myself, I do that all the time though.
I think about how I went to a physical therapist in my mid 20s. She said I have no strength in my gluteous muscles. She showed me exercises. I still remember them. I should do them. Maybe my knees will wobble less. She showed me to lie on my side with my knees bent, and twist my leg and hold it for a couple seconds. I cant remember the angle she said I should do. I can bend it 90 degrees. Sometimes more. I sometimes straighten my knee while my leg is twisted this way and move my leg forward in front of me, feeling the stretch extend further. The physical therapist also showed me strengthening exercises for my leg muscles. I lie flat on my back and lift my legs up and hold for a few seconds. Six reps straight, six reps twisted to the inside, six reps twisted to the outside. I dont know if I exaggerate these angles or not. I cannot feel it unless my leg is twisted at least 70 degrees. I can almost get my leg twisted to 90 degrees this way. I feel if i did these consistently I could get my legs straight up in the air as well while they are twisted. As it stands I can only do about 80 degrees. Almost pointed straight up.
I walk pigeon toed, I have noticed over time. Sometimes I exaggerate it on purpose. I twist my legs inward, lean forward, and walk around pretending I am some kind of strange creature. It is fun. I like to be a little weirdo.
I experience a lot of knee and hip pain. Elbow and shoulder pain. Joint pain in general. I view doing these things as helpful for keeping my muscles toned. Is this what ehlers-danlos syndrome hyperflexibility is like? I wonder. My skin is not super stretchy but it is very soft and i bruise easily. Who knows.
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mrghostrat · 3 days
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flawless (E) (35k) (4/5)
Dante ought to rewrite the circles of hell, because nothing could compare to this. Pure unfiltered dread filled Crowley’s chest when he saw Aziraphale and his husband walking into The Ritz. It was no small mercy that he didn’t have Aziraphale’s table that night, but seeing him and Gabriel dining from across the restaurant was torture enough. He couldn’t tears his eyes away. Ten car pile-ups had nothing on them, on the touch of their hands and the smile Aziraphale just couldn’t keep off his face. He watched like a hawk, insatiably curious about every little touch, while searching for anything that might quell the nausea in his stomach.
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ghostsbimbo · 4 months
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give me a reason - simon ghost riley x reader
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cw: implied dubcon, implied grooming, mentioned age gap relationship. a/n: simon is INNOCENT in this. he is helping reader come to terms with the status that they were a victim. simon isn't being a groomer, he's not guilting reader into consent, and they're not in an age gap relationship. title is from dial tone by catch your breath. please stay safe. minors, if you see this: that adult (18+ year old) is not into you. adults, if you see this and you ignore the fact that your friend is talking to a minor in a romantic aspect: you are part of the problem. words: 437.
All I wanted was an answer All I needed was to know Give me a reason I need a reason All those messages I left you All those nights I spent alone Give me a reason 'Cause all that I hear is A dial tone Dial tone
you two have been sitting silence. you didn't know for how long. all you knew is that the crushing realization of you being in a not so great relationship when you were only 14 with an 18 year old wasn't on the plate of things to do today.
"so all my friends....?" you questioned softly. simon sighed softly, simply nodding. you had talked to him about being with an 18 year old when you were 14, thinking it was normal, it was healthy. it wasn't until you noticed the concerned look he was giving you that it wasn't.
you even talked about the multiple times you tried to reach out to your ex, missing them- even going as far to include the fact he tried to get back with you when you were twenty and well past the age of being a legal adult.
you let out a soft sigh looking up at simon. "i'm an idiot, aren't i?" you questioned softly after the long silence of you mentally going over everything in your head.
simon just sighed softly, putting his arm around you before finally deciding to pull you into a bear hug. "no, you're not an idiot, you were a kid blinded by the fact that class mate was just like you and you fell for the attention he gave you." he pressed a kiss to your forehead, slowly rubbing your back - an attempt at him comforting you.
he didn't need to say anything else, you were slowly coming to the realization you were groomed, that your friends even encouraged so much of it all - peer pressure, wanting to be like your friends who were older than you, not wanting to be considered a loser because you were a virgin, and then on top of it all, your significant other making you think you wanted it - when in all reality, you were fourteen. you were a kid, so even if you did think you wanted it, you probably just actually didn't and just gave into peer pressure.
you finally let some tears fall. "i feel so stupid for falling for him." you mumbled. he didn't say anything, he just held you and let you cry until you fell asleep in his arms. thankfully it didn't take long, considering letting yourself accept the fact you were a victim, did take alot of energy out of you.
he stayed though, he stayed just to make sure you felt safe, and so when you woke up, you knew that no matter what, he wasn't going anywhere. you were stuck with him, just like he was stuck with you.
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ratmom819 · 10 months
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i like to imagine that this conversation happens soon after sirius and remus adopt teddy
sirius: you can call me dad or mum, whichever you want
teddy: dad or mum, dad or mum…can i call you both?
sirius: *extremely pleased* sure!
teddy: *feeling very clever* i can put them together! you can be dum!
sirius: wait-
teddy: dum dum! sirius is my dum dum!
and from then on teddy called sirius dum dum
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evilrat-sabre · 7 months
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This isn't about Strawberry jam
I want to ramble on about something I am not so sure about what it is, so I will tell yall a story.
So imagine this; You are 20 years old, you live with your partner in your shared apartment, your partner buys a tiny glass jar of strawberry jam. 
If I pointed at that moment and asked you what it was, I think you would say “Well, it's a jar of strawberry jam” 
Okay now, imagine one week later; the jam was good, but the jar was tiny so you and your partner already ate all of it, holding the empty and dirty jar you realize, wow it has a very nice shape, maybe I can use it as a cup, so you clean the jar and lets it sitting beside your water filter. 
If I pointed now and asked what it was, what would you say? “It’s an empty jar of strawberry jam that we use to drink water.”
Okay cool, nice and practical, lets go forward, Imagine 10 years later… Yea I know a lot of time, but hear me out; You are 30 years old and you had a child in the meantime, this child is 7 years old. 
If I pointed to the empty jar of strawberry jam and asked what it is, you know what they would say? “It’s a glass cup, we use it to drink water.” Do you see where I am going?
Okay now let's go 30 years in the future, imagine; you are 60 years old and this story isn’t about you anymore, no this story is about your grandchild now. Your 37 years old child has a 10 year old child themselves now. If I pointed to the glass cup and asked the same old question, what would they say? “Oh that's a vintage glass cup that belonged to my grandparents, my parents get it out on… special occasions.” Okay cool, it's a vintage heirloom now I guess.
Okay now Imagine; Someone broke it, what would be said if I pointed to the glass and asked you to say what it is?
“This was an empty jar of Jam, we bought it a bunch of years ago and I don’t remember if the Jam was good or not, but it served us well.”
Ok, and If I asked your child?
“Oh, this was an old glass cup that was in my parents house. I liked to use it when we would drink vodka… I think it was older than me. It's a shame it is broken.”
Your grandchild?
“This was a family heirloom. It was older than my parents and I pretended to give it to my child one day. To be honest, the thing was old, it is a miracle how long it lasted.”
The garbage man that will dispose of it.
“Someone threw broken glass in the wrong bin, I will have to put on my gloves.”
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todaysbird · 3 months
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thank you BarBar for publishing my story Within the Wall! this is such an odd story i truly didn’t think i would ever find a home for it. if you like rats, religious themes, and anthropomorphized animal stories like Watership Down and Warriors, i would appreciate your reads :)
this story contains depictions of violence, animal death, and religious imagery. please read at your own discretion!
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trashratsaws · 2 years
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Hispanic Steddie please and thanks.
Wayne Munson seeing Eddie bring Steve home for the first time and asking Eddie "Mijo, qué hace este mamon en mi casa?" only for Steve to cough awkwardly and walk up to him going "Mucho gusto, señor."
Eddie and Steve hanging together in the trailer living room listening to the radio and a truly delicious salsa comes on and Steve stands and pulls Eddie up with him to start dancing. A lot of Corroded Coffin's songs having a subtle latin beat to them.
Pet names extending from "hey, sweetheart" and "babe" and "big boy" to "mi amor/ mi vida" and "guapo" and "corazon" and "princesa" (Eddie already calls Steve princess in English but why not make him feel all flustered in both languages right?)
The pair talking dirty to each other in Spanish in public or when they're around their friends to fluster each other without anybody knowing what they're saying (not that Nancy and Robin need to know exactly what's being said for them to gag at how red Eddie gets when Steve whispers something in Eddie's ear they can't understand). Dustin constantly killing the mood by going "What does 'belleza' mean?" while butchering the pronunciation. Max knowing Spanish because Billy taught her and having to shout at them to please shut up with the gross nicknames, it's enough to hear them being annoying in english.
After a while, Dustin asking Steve to teach him so that he can romance Suzie, who knows like, seven different languages. The Byers being second generation, and Mike (embarrassed as all get out) asking Eddie to show him how to say "I like you" so that he can confess to Will.
Wayne calling Steve "hijo" for the first time while he's over at the trailer waiting for Eddie to get ready to go out, and Steve nearly breaking down crying.
Eddie learning how to play some truly sickly sweet love songs on guitar (learning the fingering for some of that latin guitar is truly stuff of nightmares, but he pushes through it for Steve)
Steve forgetting words in english more and more often (that head trauma is no joke) and constantly amusing everyone with "you know the... the thing... the- como es queue see llama esa mierda?" and being relieved when Eddie turns out to understand him and offers to translate.
Hispanic Steddie.
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