#also should probably check what my library has but i like keeping things and Not getting in trouble for itvso

[fixyourwritinghabits]

The Quick Guide of Taking Care of Yourselves

RIGHT ANYWAY, semi-functioning again. Here's some generic tips for Americans (and beyond) in these trying times.

Limit Your Social Media News Consumption

Seriously, you need to set specific times to be aware of what's going on, and then you need to put down your phone. Many of the things that are happening are beyond your control. Doomscrolling is paralyzing. Do not fall into despair loops. This helps no one and it especially does not help you.

Make a channel in your Discord group for dumping things in and leave it to that. Find ways to plug into your local community - talk to your local library, check your local subreddit, pay attention to local events. But you also must give yourself a break from all of the above for your own mental health.

Pick a set time at night and put down your phone. Don't scroll through it before bed, don't start scrolling the second you get up. Form firm habits that allow you to rest and take care of yourself. It's important to be aware of what's happening, but it does not require your constant attention.

Do Things For Yourself

In addition to making art, it's important to find ways to keep yourself grounded. Take a class you're interested in. Go to that book club. See if there's a local group into that hobby you want to start. Need to brush up on your technical skills? See if there's some online classes that you can take (and get a certificate for!).

Don't over-commit (I say, having signed up for three different activities this year), but it is vital to take time to do things for yourself to stay grounded. Having other things to focus on is going to help. I'm taking a strength-building exercise class and German lessons, and having to focus on squats and gendered nouns for certain hours of the day has been so helpful in keeping me going. Give it a try.

(You don't have to try German, just to be clear. I just think it's a neat language.)

You Do Not Have to Constantly Rearrange Your Priorities

I donate monthly to my local animal shelter. That's still going to be an important thing to do. I reblog things I don't have the funds to contribute to myself. That's still useful to do. I'm still going to pay for my patreon subscriptions, because I am supporting people I like and want to succeed.

There are some things you can do. If you are in a position to cancel Amazon Prime, you should probably do that. But some people can't, because they don't have a more reliable way to get certain necessities, and that's fine. If you're in a position to close your Meta accounts, that seems like a good call. However, while I've currently got mine locked down, I need my Instagram for professional reasons, and it's my only point of contact for certain people. I hate it, but I've made the decision to keep using it. There's no morally perfect options out there.

Think Local and Connect with Community

You cannot do anything about most of the terrible things happening. You can, however, make connections to the people around you and find ways to support yourself and others. You can find places to volunteer. You can participate in your local political groups and keep up-to-date on protests and political action. You can keep pressure on your local politicians with phone-calling and letter campaigns. Making connections to others will help you find ways to feel useful and help, even if it doesn't feel like you can.

Most importantly, though, MAKE SURE YOU ARE SAFE. If you're a vulnerable minority in a deep red state or desperately need to keep your head down at your job, you need to make decisions that are best for you. You cannot help others if you yourself are also drowning, and that is okay.

There are still some small things everyone can do. Boycotts of certain products and companies (shout-out to all of Canada, keep it up and I hope for nothing but the best for y'all) is something you can do that doesn't put you at risk. Stay connected to like-minded friends. Stock up on masks and get your vaccines. Have an emergency-prepared plan in cases of natural disasters (always a good plan).

Hang in there. Sometimes you'll spiral, everyone will. But keeping your head above water and building steps to pull yourself up from those holes will be essential.

[hanalyrata]

What's the story behind the ghouls and their piercings?

For ones I've designed? Oh god this post is gonna be 90% Alpha isn't it.

So, my first ghoul I designed was Dewdrop so I'll start there. My first few designs were kinda based off taking like an average of how everyone else draws them, like what's the most common features people seem to share as HC.

Because of that, Dew only has ears, helixes and nipples. I do sometimes put a tongue piercing in there when I remember but it's not really something I wholly HC him with.

Swiss, men look hot with tongue piercings sorry, so he naturally got one. Industrial is my favourite ear piercing so he ended up with one of those naturally. The prince Albert? Idk, wanted a cock piercing for fic purposes and it stayed part of his design.

Rain only has his tongue and that's the same "men are hot with tongue piercings" thought. I also feel like Rain would be a little more conservative with piercings (this is also why Mount has none) than some of the others.

Phantom, oh Phantom is my favourite for his choices. My brain sort of went "baby bat, fangs, what's the closest piercings he could have that look like lil fangs because he'd want to keep that feature when glamoured". Angel bites it is. He has a few in his ears too, I'm tempted to give him a few more in them, really make it nice and decorative.

Aether, didn't think too much beyond what I see some of my old punk friends from back in my goth era used to wear. It was almost always like eyebrow and nose and a couple dotted in the ears. Aether's my lil punk rock boi and I love him.

Ifrit, as I was designing Ifrit I actually put a bunch of dots and ring shapes all over his face to see what fit. So that's how he ended up with everything that he does. The nipple piercings, my only excuse is "nipple piercings are sexy", I went with rings to make him different to Dew, we've discussed the tongue. I wanted to go different for once on the ears, so that's why he's the only one with tunnels. Note he still has an industrial because favourite ear piercing. Was still in my cock piercings are hot era (still am) which is why he has a PA and lorum.

Alpha, I decided Alpha is my absolute pain kink weirdo goth bad boy as I was designing him, so he ended up with a lot. I didn't want to overload him, but also wanted to make it obvious that piercings are his thing (he is the abbey piercer afterall). I saw the eyebrow horns on Pinterest and centered it around that. Just whatever fit his face he got it. I might add more. Funny story about the cock piercings. So, the first time I learned what a frenum ladder was, I was about 13. I spent most of my early teens in the library, gobbling up whatever crime/thriller books I probably shouldn't have been reading at that age. A Karin Slaughter book starts off with a very vivid description of one (I won't go into detail because it's very... It could be triggering. Just iykyk) and I was absolutely fascinated. So when it came to "what are some of the most extreme but pretty piercings I can give him" there. That was it.

I did also have to double check if his nipple piercings were possible. Takes specific anatomy, but yeah. (side note, him and Ifrit with the navel piercings... Yeah those are hot on men sorry not sorry).

Omega, I didn't want to overload Omega, but I wanted to do ones I hadn't entirely done yet either. I wanted symmetry because he's the pinnacle of quintessence and therefore also perfect to me. Double nostril and snakebites it is. I gave him Orbitals in his ears because I always find them to remind me of space (a planet with its rings). It's a silly reason, but I liked it enough to put it in his design. He does also have nipple piercings because I think most people should lmao.

Cirrus, again, what fit her and what didn't. I figured she'd like pretty things like dermals. Didn't want to give her an anti-eyebrow like Alpha so she got the dermal instead. I also put a few in her horns because I feel she found them to look boring and wanted to spice it up.

Cumulus felt boring to me for five minutes, facially, a nose ring fixed that. She has a navel piercing and then a dermal above that. The navel piercing often has a belly chain attached to it. I have considered nipple piercings for her. She'd absolutely be the type to have cute BVLA clickers in them to highlight it. I didn't want to go too piercing heavy with her because she already has other striking features like her floofy hair.

Oh wow that was longer than I thought it would be haha. I do think a lot when I design and HC stuff, so I'm always willing to yap!

I'm so annoyed they removed yellow for a text colour option since that's air for me. I know yellow on white is ass tier accessibility but stilllll.

[saturnniidae]

My birthdays coming up nows as good a time as any to get back into dvd collecting I suppose

Netflix removing dreamworks shows due to expiring contracts will be the death of me. I hate how quiet they are about it like it's giving me war flashbacks to the hbomax cartoon purge

[insomanic-fanfication]

Batfam's reacting to you falling asleep on Tim

Author's note: Full fanfics will have to wait, but I will be doing these types of things for a bit. Feel free to send in asks! I thought this post was cute and got my creative bug working again. I also wanted to avoid spamming Gator's inbox cause' I already sent in one or two.

Dick Grayson: The proudest brother alive! Look at Timbo finding love! Would definitely put a blanket over you both, and the group chat with his friend would be spammed with pictures and messages of how cute you guys are, how excited he is about Tim opening himself more, Trying to figure out what your couple name should be. Goes to leave but turns back around to make sure Tim's progress is saved and see if the laptop needs to be charged. Then leaves the room, to let you guys cuddle and sleep in peace, telling the rest of the batfam to keep quiet and not disturb you two.

Jason Todd: Found out what was up when Dick was telling everyone not to disturb you love birds. The man was just reading his book in the library, and he got his Flamboyant older brother wagging his finger in his face. Keep quiet, like bitch, your the loudest out of all of us. Decides to weigh the options of maybe writing something on Tim's face in washable marker, to ruffle dick's feathers a little. However, upon entering the room, he sees how content you both are and doesn't have the heart to mess with you. He can't help but let a soft smile creep up while leaving, happy to see Tim finally taking a break from fight or flight. Damian Wayne: No! Of course, he's not doing an FBI-level background check on you because he's worried about his brother! It's essential to know the information of people close to their work as heroes! No, he's not nervous about possible changes in the family's route; that concern is for babies! 'Alferd, could you ensure they drink water and a snack when they wake. Drake probably hasn't touched a glass of water in days'.

Alfred Pennyworth: Would 100%, if told to or not, bring you both snacks and water bottles for when you both wake up; however, I also feel like he would also bring you headache meds. He's had to raise Bruce and insomniac Wayne and has been around the block more than once. Could you check on both laptops to see if they need to be charged? Quite happy to see that Tim has found someone that makes him happy, as well as that Tim's brothers are pretty excited. However, he is a little concerned that Damian may be unable to handle another change within the routine again so soon. It'll just be something that must be talked through with time.

Bruce Wayne: He'll probably be hyperfocused on doing research and stuck in his own thoughts. Cause he's over the moon that Tim's found someone. However, he needs to figure out how to follow the parental rules for same-sex relationships. He wants to keep the rules fair between his children, but like..??? So many questions, not enough answers yet. You can just get ready for awkward but supportive conversations to come.

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

Like what you read? Please check out my blog and other works! Do you know that you can’t write yourself or have no time? Request or send in an ask! I also have a Masterlist for all my Reblogs, so you can check out other Fanfication Writers!

[gideonisms]

okay because tumblr hates me it did not save my draft of a mini fic I wrote for a prompt but I'm posting it anyway. The prompt was:

the smut is DELICIOUS but my stupid romantic brain needs some fluff...so how about.....griddlehark sneaking into the library for some midnight reading? 👀

And I can't remember who sent this one, my apologies. Hope you see it, whoever you were! I promise this is fluff but I needed to write some original flavor Griddlehark so let's pretend this is what happened after avulsion ❤️

When Gideon crawls out from her nest of blankets, aware of her surroundings at last, Harrow is gone. Gideon should have expected this. If she’d thought volunteering to have her soul sucked out through her innards was enough to melt the heart of the lady of the Ninth, she would have been wrong. Even her hallucination of Harrow hadn’t stayed to comfort her.

Not that she needs comfort. After all, Gideon isn’t dead. She just feels like she is.

Groping around on the floor for her sword, the one lady who would never betray her, Gideon almost knocks over a cup of water. Harrow must have left this for her out of some misguided sense of pity after they’d stumbled back to their rooms.

Although it makes Gideon feel a little bit like a pet left on its own while its owner goes to town, she takes the water and drinks it in huge gulps, draining the whole thing. Afterwards, she feels almost like a person—if that person had been smashed to bits and then taped up wrong.

Now to find Harrow.

Gideon gets up, aching in every bone. She considers just lying back down, possibly forever. How much trouble could Harrow even get into on her own? She’s probably just passed out somewhere again and can wait there until Gideon comes to find her.

No, Gideon should check. After all, what good is she as a cavalier if she lets Harrow wander off and get eaten by a bone monster right after they’ve won another key? It would just be embarrassing.

So she checks Harrow’s room—empty, but she does find another glass of water in there, which she drinks hastily without bothering to question how long it’s been sitting on the nightstand. She rests for a minute on Harrow’s bed, clinging to her sword more for support than because she thinks she could swing it at something.

She leaves the room as silently as she can and closes the door behind her.

The corridors of the First House are empty and dark as she searches. She keeps thinking she sees movement out of the corners of her eyes, but after the fourth time she whirls around to find nothing, accepts that this too may be a side effect of the soul sucking.

She grasps her sword in both hands as she turns down a corridor she hasn’t taken before. At this point, she’s beginning to feel not only lost, but also dizzy, and is considering calling it quits and hoping Harrow hasn’t done anything too stupid.

But there, at the end of the hallway, is a closed door. And underneath the door, a light shines. Not the light of the old-fashioned florescent bulbs or even the warm, glowing lanterns she’s seen some of the priests carrying around. No, this light is a wan, flickering candlelight that only serves to make Gideon feel colder and more unwell. Gideon would recognize that light anywhere. It has to be Harrow’s.

As she creeps towards the light, she lowers her sword. When she reaches the doorway, she tries the brass handle—locked, of course. She knocks, and behind the door, she can hear the unmistakable sound of bones clattering.

“Harrow,” she tries to say, but it comes out as more of a croak. She hears a rustling opposite the door. She tries again. “It’s me, you numbskull. Let me in!”

She’s seriously not feeling good. Maybe this whole standing up thing was a mistake.

The door suddenly opens—Gideon sways forward.

“Gideon?” Harrow says. And then Gideon passes out.

When she comes to, she’s resting on a dusty couch, head pillowed by something soft and warm.

“Harrow?”

“Shut up, idiot.” Harrow sounds small and frightened. Gideon blinks her eyes open to see her adept looking down at her from quite close up, fingers hovering in midair as though she can’t decide whether to touch Gideon or not.

Gideon thinks deliriously that she might as well, since she’s already got Gideon’s head in her lap.

Gideon looks around. There are bones strewed on the floor—probably from Harrow’s efforts to get her to the couch. And they’re in some type of library—quite small, even by Ninth standards, but Gideon can tell that it once would have been cozy.

There’s a fireplace set into one wall with ancient chairs across from it. Everywhere books are piled up; this isn’t the tidy organization of someone who owns a library for the aesthetic, but the more familiar jumble of books and crumbling papers from a person who once loved their work.

She looks back to Harrow, whose face is once again painted, but hastily. The smudged circles of black underneath her eyes make her look tired and worried.

“Gideon?” she says again. “Are you all right?”

Although Gideon has looked her death in the eyes more than once this week, it’s the tone of panic in Harrow’s voice that makes her feel like she must truly be dead. She reaches up to pinch herself on the arm, but Harrow catches her wrist.

“Woah, hold it, that’s my move,” Gideon says.

But Harrow just checks her pulse. Her thumb sweeps over the place where Gideon can feel her heart beat hardest. Then she does touch Gideon’s face—fingers brushing her hair aside to feel at her forehead.

“No fever,” she mutters. “Probably dehydrated.”

“You’d know a lot about that, wouldn’t you? You have a lot of experience, my sickly scion. Malnourished monarch.”

“This isn’t a joke! If you had collapsed somewhere out there, where I couldn’t find you in time—”

“Dehydration duchess.”

“You could have died! Did you even read my note?”

“What note?”

“You idiot,” Harrow says again, with feeling. “I left it beside the water cup.”

“So that was you. Thought it might have been the monster.”

“There is no—” Harrow breaks off and pinches the bridge of her nose, breathing in slowly. She smudges her paint when she does. There’s a little bit of skin poking through just at the top of her nose where it meets her forehead. Gideon almost reaches up to touch it without thinking.

“You will not leave the room without my permission in the future,” Harrow says.

“Like hell I won’t! You snuck off without me. What did you expect me to do?”

It’s just like Harrow to use this as an excuse to keep Gideon locked away somewhere. What else did Gideon expect?

But Harrow looks down at her with huge scared eyes, as deep and dark as the tomb itself, and Gideon can’t even be angry. Which sucks, because she’d planned to be angry with Harrow for the next few hours at least. But now that she’s with Harrow, now that she’s assured herself Harrow isn’t dead, just holed away in some obscure corner of the House reading as normal, a sense of calm steals over Gideon. She could almost go back to sleep here.

As though Harrow can read her mind, she says, “I expected you to still be asleep.”

“Tough luck. I’m as awake as I’ve ever been. I could fight off a billion bone monsters right now. Just give me my sword, and—wait, where’s my sword?”

Harrow gestures to the edge of the couch near Gideon’s feet, where to Gideon’s great relief she finds her sword propped up.

“I haven’t taken anything of yours,” Harrow says. “I only—I needed to do more research, and I thought you were safe in our rooms.”

Gideon looks around. Books are piled up on the reading stand next to the couch, right next to an ugly ninth house candle Harrow’s using in clear violation of every fire safety rule Gideon has ever learned. Harrow has of course littered the floor with books too. The candle smells waxy and unpleasant, but the familiar flickering of the feeble light makes something in Gideon’s chest unclench.

“And was it worth it? Did you find anything?”

Harrow shakes her head. “Nothing of note. This seems to be a room for the more…esoteric interests of the Lyctors. There are books here on almost everything—anatomy, various discredited magical practices, historical romances that seem improbable at best. But nothing that helps us. It’s all just…what they liked. It doesn’t tell me anything about how they achieved Lyctorhood.”

“Do they have any skin mags?” Gideon asks hopefully.

“No, you moron.”

“But how can you know if you haven’t checked for them?”

Harrow doesn’t dignify this with a response. Instead, she picks up a book from the table and starts idly thumbing through. She doesn’t dislodge Gideon from her lap. Gideon thinks about getting up, going back to her room. Maybe forcing Harrow to come with her. But the thought of leaving this couch sends a wave of nausea through her stomach, so she decides she can best do her duty as a cavalier by staying here and watching for threats.

It's seriously weird to be in Harrow’s lap, and it would normally disgust her to be so close to her adept.

From this close, Harrow smells of bloodsweat. It’s not a pleasant smell at the best of times, and it’s grown worse over the time they’ve been at Canaan House. But the warmth of her—better than the empty fireplace in the corner, anyway. Gideon’s eyes start to drift closed.

Then something occurs to her.

“If you aren’t finding anything useful, then why are you still here?”

Above her, pages turn slowly. Harrow is silent for a long moment.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she says finally. “I needed a distraction.”

This might be the most honest thing Harrow has ever admitted to Gideon. Gideon has long suspected that Harrowhark spends so much time studying bone magic because she doesn’t have any other hobbies, aside from conjuring skeletons to trip Gideon while she’s going down the stairs. It’s nice to have that confirmed.

Maybe once Harrow has seen the appeal of books that aren’t dusty academic tomes, she’ll grow more lenient about Gideon’s preferred reading material.

Not that it will matter. As soon as Harrow becomes a Lyctor, Gideon will never have to see her again. Harrow will never again tell Gideon what she can and can’t read. She’ll never again feel Gideon’s pulse, checking for life.

She probably won’t even care if Gideon lives, once she’s a Lyctor.

Gideon squirms around. She hates to call it nestling, because it’s not. But she finds a more comfortable position on the couch. Harrow adjusts herself above Gideon too. She props her elbow on Gideon’s shoulder as she turns another page.

“Will you read to me?” Gideon says. She must be out of her mind with exhaustion.

“I don’t see why you would want that.”

“I need to stay awake. Protect us from threats and all. It’s not because I crave your dulcet tones, don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t worried about that. I know you hate me, Nav.”

Gideon almost agrees on instinct, but something stops her. Maybe it’s the quiet of the room, or maybe it’s the warmth of Harrow’s horrible little body, but she doesn’t have it in her to put up the usual fight.

Anyway, Harrow doesn’t seem to need a response. After a moment, she clears her throat and begins:

“Call me Ishmael. Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world.”

And although this intrigues Gideon, although under other conditions, Gideon would have loved to hear a story that wasn’t about how bad nuns go to hell and good nuns get to serve the King Undying, Gideon nevertheless finds herself drifting off into a comfortable doze.

She tries to keep her eyes open, but Harrow’s clear, calm voice reads on, and Gideon’s eyelids droop until she can no longer watch the flickering of the candle. At the very edges of her consciousness, she thinks she feels Harrow’s fingers brush lightly over her forehead again, smoothing back her hair.

“You can sleep,” dream Harrow says. “I’ll kill the light.”

[tobiasdrake]

The Hundred Line: Last Defense Academy 15 - Just Saying Buzzwords

We've seen several of the facilities at this point but what else does the school have to offer? Let's check out the Defense Room. I have no idea what that's even supposed to mean or how it's different from the War Room.

Oh, it's on fire.

Yeah, that's pretty different from the War Room.

Those are clearly the Undying Flames too. So... What, is this where we throw ourselves into the fire and try to build up a tolerance to it? Because I'm down, but Hiruko should probably go first. She's a lot tougher than me.

Because the alternative was spending time with Gaku, Ima, and Shouma. After carefully weighing my options, I chose death.

You?

Of course we're not.

You know saying things like that just makes me want to probe more, right? I don't know if we get to do Free-Time Events like we would if we were killing each other but if we do then you and Darumi are both topping my list.

Unrelated to anything, what are your thoughts on coffee that's gone through an animal's butt? Are you a yea or a nay on that?

I don't know why you don't want to be besties. I'm so friendly. ._.

I suppose the flames are supposed to be the last line of defense if whatever got through the flames and through us makes it here.

OR they're to keep us out too.

...

We should bring those fire extinguishers up here. I wanna know.

I remain confident that this isn't Hiruko's first rodeo. She definitely understands a lot about what's going on here.

I will not be doing that. Though I might be more inclined if you were a cuddly teddy bear or a suspiciously neutral-faced kitty-cat. But you're gross, so no.

Yadda yadda your blood turns into Venom and you assume your Magical Girl form through the power of the Hepatitis Blade. Got it.

Probably has something to do with the weird gookiness of the enemy monsters, which is probably also hemoanima. I bet you money those are humans taken over by their Venom symbiotes and turned into Witches.

Oh cool. I once came up with a concept called a Darksaber when I was like 10 that was NOT a lightsaber ORIGINAL CREATION DO NOT STEAL and the way you knew it wasn't a lightsaber was because the blade was made of darkness instead of made of light.

I later called it the Nightblade to make it even more Not a Lightsaber. And then many years later I would find out there is actually a thing called the Darksaber in Star Wars.

Anyway, that was actually how it worked. The Darksaber/Nightblade would only destroy organic matter but would phase through inorganic matter. So if you stabbed someone wearing a steel breastplate, it would pierce the person inside while leaving the breastplate completely unharmed. How does that work? Fuck you, that's how. I was like 10.

So I'm pretty familiar with this concept. It's neat.

Oh, that's good to know. I thought it was just a ring of fire but it's actually a really, really thick ring of fire.

The flames can sense them coming.

You gonna explain that one, champ? No? Fine.

Maybe they have fire extinguishers of their own and they have to refill them. :P

You gonna explain that one, champ?

It was already weird that the fire never goes out but now it's definitely some sort of sentient eldritch horror.

We can burn that bridge when we come to it. Though at this point, I wouldn't be surprised if that does become relevant.

It's for keeping up with our social media accounts. Kako needs some way to vote for the next Tumblr Sexyman. We're all trying to get Gaku to leave Twitter, but he's so far down the rabbit hole that he actually calls it X.

I liked my answer better, you Facebook tool.

EWWWW You're using the Live Services model of game design, Alexa? Well, at least now I don't need to doubt whether or not you're pure evil.

That would be awesome if not for the fact that I didn't see any sort of recreational facilities. Library, computer lab, rec room, that sort of thing. Things for us to actually do to entertain ourselves must be later content for the planned roadmap.

If this is our habitat for 100 days then there is a non-zero chance I'm going to breach the Undying Flames and enter the Defense Room just out of boredom alone. I hope you're aware of that, Alexa.

Okay now you're just saying buzzwords.

Oh my god, Monokuma and Chiaki are about to have a Danganronpa-off. Where's Darumi? We need popcorn from the food Asuras STAT!

And we can have popcorn too. Because we do our drugs like responsible children.

[bbynedtime]

Apologies for possibly unwanted cross-pollination but I just saw that Crozcest post you made on the other blog about Ned crawling into Thomas' bed when he can't sleep post-rescue and now I can't stop thinking about various littles crawling into bed with their caregivers, whether because they can't sleep or they have nightmares or maybe they're just afraid of the dark QwQ......

I love the idea of Nedward snuggling up with Fitzmommy so much but idk how often that could actually happen cause she's obvs sleeping with Francis usually and Ned would be too nervous and embarrassed to bother daddy in the middle of the night ;;;_;;; I'M SAD

I bet poor Johnny Morfin and Henry Collins in particular have some very restless nights :'( they should have a sleepover together to keep each other calm with Macca on hand to administer medicine as needed <3

Speaking of which, Harry Goodsir is Not Sleepy Yet, Uncle Macca! He wants to stay up and read his new library book about a brave little clam! But in the end he is convinced to turn the lights out to help Henry and Johnny sleep. He then conks out immediately. All 3 of them sleep peacefully that night. :')

On a somewhat related note, Henry Peglar is sooo a "just one more story pleeeaaassseee" kid. He's so cooperative during the day that you get blindsided by how hard it is to get him to go to sleep lmao. Will demand you do the voices too. Only Hodgson, Fitzjames, and of course Bridgens can meet his storyteller standards.

hickey and Gibson will lock their bedroom door at night and leave Sol (woken up by a bad nightmare, afraid of monsters in the dark coming to eat him) howling and crying alone in the hallway all night. Heather would you PLEASE come rescue the poor little thing!!! (and also buy him a nightlight!)

Johnny bbyving doesn't even have his own bed. He is cuddled up with mama every night. <3 Hodgmommy always makes a big deal out of checking under the bed and in the closets for monsters and reminding Johnny that nothing is ever going to hurt him as long as she's around. A nightly ritual followed by bedtime prayers and goodnight kisses. She actually has more frequent nightmares than he does and usually ends up clinging to him at night more than the other way around tbh but it's all right. He likes being swaddled. And he loves his mamma. <3

Sorry all my asks to this blog end up being novels omfg I just get so excited about your wonderful little ones they're all so CUTE and I LOVE THEM

These are all so good TT__TT

Morfin/Collins/Goodsir cuddle pile so important to meeeee 😭😭😭😭💖💖💖💖💖💖

Also I love Peglar being a bedtime menace, that's so funny-

SOL NOOOOO!!! BABY BOY!!! MEAN TO HIMM ;_; On the other hand I think him and Heather would sleep in the same bed, so when he has a nightmare while at Heather's, help is right beside him🥰 What would be really messed up though is if he thought he was at Heathers and began searching for him... when was actually at Gibson's. So he'd get really scared about where Heather went and make it worse and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

I ACCIDENTALLY MADE MYSELF SAD, SHIT

Of COURSE Johnny sleeps with mama <3333 Now I'm thinking what'd happen if George ever woke Johnny up with one of those nightmares. He'd probably get a bit scared for mama, but try to be sooo supportive because he knows how scary nightmares are.

"Mama..?"

"It's alright, love," *sniff* "Mommy just had a bad dream."

"....... Cuddles?"

"Yes, cuddles will help. Thank you. (T w T) You're such a good baby..."

And Neddie... Poor Neddie... but i think... if he has a really bad nightmare... Francis can sleep on the couch 😇😇

(also it's totally alright, I breathe these actually)

[dewinchester1979]

That Type of Girl Part 2

Pairing: Dean x reader (Eventual), Sam x reader (Platonic)

Warnings: language, unrequited love, slight angst, some fluff, mentions of torture, mentions of sexy times

This is the second fic I have ever written, all mistakes are my own. Please be gentle on me! This part is a bit shorter but I am going to try to make the next one longer. I also attempted to make a tag list, if for some reason it is not right, please let me know!

_____________________

I was pushed up against the wall, Dean had his hands all over my body. My legs wrapped around his hips. His mouth moving against mine. “You are so gorgeous sweetheart, you have no idea how long I have wanted this.” Dean moaned against my neck.

“Me too Dean” I said breathlessly. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Dean actually wanted me as much as I wanted him. He continued moving his body against mine. His mouth moving down my chest. 

Just as it was getting to the good part, I woke up in a sweat. 

Of course it was a dream. Damn it. I really needed to get laid evidently. Somehow I knew though, my mind would still drift back to Dean.

I reached over to check my phone, just after 3 am. Why do I always wake up wide awake at this time. It’s so annoying. It usually tended to happen more often when I had a lot on my mind. Of course I did currently. Dean was in a bad place mentally. Sam was better at coping with things like this.

Dean has always been so hard on himself. I tried to mend Dean’s pieces back together as best as I knew how. Making sure he had all his favorite things. He told me to stop buying him stuff, even though he did appreciate it greatly. I tended to shower the ones I loved with gifts. I was never a physically affectionate person until I really trusted someone and knew they cared about me. I have been that way ever since I was little. For some reason it was easy for me with the boys though. When we met, I felt like I had known them for a lifetime. 

I decided since I was up, I would head to the bathroom and maybe try to catch up on some research. As I made my way into the library, I noticed a light was already on. There was Dean with his head down on the table snoring softly. I smiled to myself. He looked so peaceful, I enjoyed moments like this. I could stare freely without him seeing. As I walked closer, Dean shifted. Please dear lord let him keep sleeping. He started to stir. Damn it.

“Hey Dean, I think you should head to bed” I patted his arm lightly.

“What time is it?” he mumbled back. Head still down on the table.

“Just after 3” I stated.

“Why and the hell are you up this early?” He finally sat up. Bed head sprawled all over, his eyes adjusting to the room. 

“Couldn’t sleep” I moved to sit across from him.

“Nightmare?” he asked.

Oh Dean, my sweet Dean if you only knew what I was dreaming. I would die before that happens though.

“Nah, just a lot on my mind ya know?” I better come up with something better than that, he tends to want to know more details then I am willing to give.

“Yeah I get it …. you know I’m always here if you want to talk about it” he stated with a small smile.

I’m surprised he doesn’t ask me for the details. He must be really exhausted.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” I replied. 

We sat there in comfortable silence. Sure, I would love to open up to him about how I feel but knew no matter what I said or how I said it, it would end by me being devastated, having to pack my bags, and never seeing the boys again. And that is something I am definitely not ok with. So I hide my feelings, I bury them deep inside. I keep hoping the longer I do it, the easier it will get but that hasn’t happened so far.

“I guess I better try to get some shut eye, Sammy said he found a case last night so we are heading out first thing in the AM. You should probably head back to bed too sweetheart” he stretched as he stood up.

“Yeah, I doubt I will be able to fall back asleep though, I’m just gonna try to catch up on some research. You go get some much deserved rest though!” I gave him a small smile.

He winked at me, “I’m sure as hell gonna try” he started heading to his room.

My cheeks are definitely red.

Damn him for making me feel like a pile of mush. 

____________________________________________

“So what are we thinking, Demons?” Dean was driving, Sam shotgun, and of course I was sprawled out in the backseat.

“I mean maybe man, I am not entirely sure. All the victims have been women, and they have been tortured. But the weirdest part is all of them were only missing for a day.” Sam was reading over the case files.

“Why the hell would they only want them for a day?” Dean looked at me in the rearview mirror. I honestly had no idea why they would do that. Usually Demons like to take their time and keep their victims for longer, unless they were on a timeline.

After we arrived in the small town, Sam went to the morgue and the police station. Dean and I stayed back to look over the case files closer.

“I mean this is just weird, why keep them for such a short time? The only thing I can think of is they want to up the victim count.” I looked at Dean. Of course he was more experienced than me with things like this. I had always stuck to re-search up until I turned 16.

I was raised a hunter like Sam and Dean, but my dad was always protective of me. He never wanted me out in the field. I think he also worried about how well I would do since I was overweight. He never said it but of course I could tell that was part of the problem. 

“I mean maybe, why pick five victims in the same town though? Why not move on ? Unless they like the risk of hunting on the same ground.” he moved from the bed to sit at the table.

“Could be. I’m at a loss.” I massaged my head. I could feel a migraine coming on. I usually got them when I was stressed, and here lately I am always stressed.

“Ok, I think I’ve figured it out.” Sam walked back into our motel room. “So all the victims attended the same church, so I think that is where we need to start. The victims did have sulfur under their fingernails. All of them were single, lived alone, and worked at different places.”

“A demon choosing victims at a church? That is just wrong in so many ways. So what is the plan?” I closed my laptop.

“Well Y/N since you asked” Sam grinned at me. Great, I know what he is going to say next.

“You want me to go to the church and see what I can find out?” they could definitely tell I did not think this was a great idea, I never had a good poker face.

“I think that is our best bet, I mean you are a woman and you also happen to be single. I think it’s best if you talk to some of the other women and find out what you can. They are having a small gathering tonight to pray for the victims and their families” Sam looked at me like this was no big deal.

“Is Y/N being bait seriously the best option?” Dean never did like me being bait. I assumed it was because he thought I couldn’t hold my own, but he just told me it was because he liked knowing I had back up. Whatever.

“I mean yeah Dean unless you can magically change into a woman it’s all I got, plus it’s not like you and I won’t be there. We will just keep to the sidelines. Y/N is more than capable of handling this.” Sam said this with so much confidence, glad someone believes in me. 

“Yeah Dean, it will be fine” I looked at him with a small smile. I am a firm believer in fake it till ya make it so the more I tell myself everything will be fine, I’m sure it will be. 

“Alright, let’s head out I guess. At least there will be single chicks there.” Dean winked at me.

I feel a pit in my stomach.

Maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all.

Tag List:

@hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog

@deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist

[serickswrites]

Lonely Place of Longing III

Master list here (includes summaries and bios as well as chapter links)

Warnings: referenced wounds, referenced blood, referenced chest tube, healing, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery

Halle spent the next couple of days keeping a close eye on Dylan. While she was still afraid of the weapon, she also couldn’t let the weapon suffer. “You don’t have to keep checking on me, Halle,” Dylan said after the fifth day. “Really, I’ll be ok.”

“I want to make sure there aren’t any complications with your healing. Haven’t your previous keepers checked on you regularly?”

Dylan shook his head. “Most were too afraid to. Or didn’t care. I’m not very popular in case you haven’t noticed.”

Halle peeled back the bandage around where she had placed the chest tube. The skin had completely re-knitted. If Halle didn’t know any better, she would have said that Dylan was healing at an unusual rate. Perhaps she hadn’t cut as big as she had thought.

“I don’t know why,” Dylan went on, “I have read every book in our library, Bravo’s library, Delta’s library, and Hotel’s library, so I can always recommend a good book no matter what type of book you like. And I’ve also traveled all over the globe, so I have good travel tips. Not that I’ve done any sight seeing, mind you. And well, I’m a social pariah just because of what I am. That’s probably why I’m not very popular.”

Halle straightened and nodded towards the pile of books on Dylan’s end table. “It’s your terrible taste in books that makes you not popular, Dylan. Really, this book pile reads like every high schooler’s nightmare. You’ve been tortured. Very recently. Why mentally torture yourself now?”

Dylan gave a wry smile. “It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

A knock on the door had Halle jumping. Dylan tensed next to her. The door swung open before Dylan could even reply. Thomas marched in. “How’s the patient?” Thomas asked Halle.

“Healing well. Still needs time to heal, though.”

“I should be ready for whatever you’ve put on hold in four days,” Dylan said, staring directly at Thomas. “My open wound closed yesterday. I can walk. I should be ready to go by then, completely healed.”

Halle opened her mouth to protest. Dylan clearly had a death wish if he wanted to get back out so soon. “That is great news to hear. The Authority has been wondering how long you would be out of commission.”

“You can let them know I’ll be ready in four days. Five days tops.” Dylan shook his curls out of his face, and Halle could have sworn what bruising had remained was already beginning to fade. Surely it was just the way the sunlight was hitting his face now.

Halle opened her mouth again, but Thomas turned to her. “Halle, can I see you in my office, please?”

“Absolutely, Thomas. I’ll check on you again, tomorrow, Dylan.” Halle said as she turned to follow Thomas out the door.

“No need, Halle. You heard Dylan. He’s almost completely healed. All due to your ministrations, of course.” Dylan avoided making eye contact with Halle as he spoke. “Halle is a most dedicated healer, Thomas. I am very grateful to be under her care.”

“Come along, Halle. I do need to meet with the Authority to brief them on Dylan’s updated status.”

Halle half jogged along to keep up with Thomas. “What is it you wanted to discuss with me, Thomas? If I may be so bold, I really do think that Dylan won’t be healed in four days. That’s unheard of to be up and about that quickly. I really do think he needs at least another two weeks. I could assess—“

“That won’t be necessary, Halle. I think Dylan knows himself and what he is capable of quite well. No need to concern yourself with his current recovery.

“What I wanted to talk to you about is how you are settling in. How are things for you, Halle? You’ve been here a little over two weeks now and you’re certainly earning your keep. And for that, I am very grateful.”

Halle didn’t like that Thomas didn’t want her to re-assess Dylan’s injuries. She didn’t like that Dylan was so ready to throw himself out of the frying pan and into the fire. But she couldn’t control these things. And Dylan had clearly survived much worse and was still going on missions. “I’ve been adjusting. It’s certainly a different life than I am used to. But I am glad to do it.”

“Yeah, I can imagine your days when not healing Dylan could be dreadfully dull.”

“Not at all!” Halle said hurriedly. She couldn’t get fired. Not yet. “I help in the kitchen. And with the library. Really, it’s great.”

Thomas chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’m only teasing you. We’re glad to have you, Halle. And we’re glad you’ve chosen to stay.”

“Thank you, Thomas.” Halle’s watch pinged. She was due in the gym to meet her new sparring instructor. While she didn’t think it was likely, Halle wanted to be ready to go into the field at a moment’s notice. A battlefield medic of sorts. It would help her keep better tabs on Dylan. “Apologies, Thomas, I have an appointment.”

“With the sparring instructor, I’m aware. Listen, Halle, I’m glad you are interested in potential field work, but,” Thomas held up a hand to silence Halle’s protests, “I am going to advise you to be very careful of what you are wanting. And to be very careful around Dylan.”

Halle froze. What did Thomas know about what she had been doing?

“Dylan is a living weapon. He is one of the most dangerous, if not most the dangerous, beings alive. He could kill you without a second thought, Halle. You need to be very careful. And under absolutely no circumstances should you ever let him out of his quarters or remove his cuffs, Halle. To do that would mean certain death for you.”

Halle swallowed. Dylan was a living weapon. He had powers Halle could only dream of. And he lived in a room with barred windows and doors. Thomas was right, she needed to be careful.

“Thank you, Thomas. I’ll keep that in mind."

Tags: @beomsstudio @mousepaw @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @eyehartart @corbytheking

@seysposts @cosmic-butterflys @wormjerky @godnessofmagic

@daddyslittlestgirlll

@thatlittlefirestarter @defire @jthecalmone @shook-skull @sagencrafts

@theforeverdyingperson @bilightningwhumper @cryptid-potato @fox-fox234 @deepfriedpan

@4-err0r-4 @half-duck @bigmiki @amberconnverse636 @penguin4473-blog

@abbyreader23 @lateuplight @firelan @octafi @paingoes

@xo7-parad0x @whumpandcomfort @kazekunai @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe @soul-of-a-local-bard

@dragonkales @kitarajy-kari @carosbee @celestialsoyeon @knightinbatteredarmor

@kay-kayxb177 @alwaysjaywalking @decayanddie @demetercabingreen-thumb @never-enough-novels

@whump-a-bear-workshop @sizzlingtigerwerewolf @urmum-11 @velcrostrip @rattypop

@lexiebiss-blog @whumplump @geozone430

[sleepyburito]

I finished the other oc I mentioned for your FTO rewrite.

Name: Johanna; Magic: Sight/Knowledge(Devil slayer maybe); Age: 37; Height: 5'10"; Rank: B maybe A if she actually applied herself.

I have one of 2 ideas for what her job should be either she works for the Protectors in their library and works in storing important information, documents and keeps the library in check. Or she works in the big library as the sole person in charge of taking care of it. She probably would have joined either of them at the age of 22. If she worked in the big library then she likely knew Lilac(Michael's wife). She is cordial to most people but if she thinks someone is acting stupid then she'll be kinda rude to them, and tell them that. Now onto the devil slayer part, if Devil slayer sounds too overpowered you can just ignore this bit. She was very curious when she was younger(19) and kinda foolish, so she made a deal with a demon so she would be able to learn more and have more knowledge. But the demon acts more like a nuisance. The demon made the deal cause they were bored. The demon just likes to tell her things that are either insignificant or annoying, or just random things basically. At this point she is just fed up and tired. The way her magic works is that she can know things that people have seen, usually people in front of her. She can't know what people are thinking she has never tried either. She also can't really 'see' people if they don't have eyes. So if she's a devil slayer she'll just say she knows things because of curiosity which is what she calls her demon. Then I think it would be funny if the demon called her cat, like 'Curiosity killed the Cat' it sounds funny to me. Also cause she is a older cat lady, she should have a tortoiseshell called Cammie. Her skirt is made out of granny squares, my sister said that they look nothing like granny squares and I should redraw her (my sister crochet's).

I don't know how obvious it is but she is based off of Jon from The Magnus Archives. This is the result of listening to the podcast while drawing and I got inspired.

I am in love!!!

I have an idea for how I could write and include her and the demon so that's staying but yeah!!!

thank you again toffie <3

[viperwhispered]

Jamemi timeline part 1

The plan was to put together a vague Emi x Jamil timeline (with the help of this helpful post from yuurei20, my own screenshots and the wiki), but… It ended up not quite so vague.

So y’all are getting this in 2 or 3 parts. Hopefully it’s of interest!

This first part will cover the time from the beginning of the game / schoolyear until the end of book 4.

For more info on my yuusona, you can find the masterpost on Emi here, part 2 of this timeline here, and part 3 here.

Jamil and Emi first meet during book 2, when Emi & Heartslabyul gang are investigating the spelldrive injuries. Jamil, of course, is aware of Emi from what happened during orientation, and probably has been keeping an eye on her - you know, just in case. 

Neither one of them leaves a particularly strong impression on the other - they both find each other nice enough, but rather unassuming. Still, they’re at least somewhat aware of each other after that - Jamil paying more attention to the magicless Prefect and all the hubbub surrounding her than she does to him.

And then comes book 4. Emi’s a little more adjusted to Twisted Wonderland and NRC, but she’s also been through Riddle’s overblot, Leona’s overblot, and the more long-term stress of dealing with Azul’s demands.

So, when winter break rolls around, Emi’s dreaming of a peaceful holiday spent lost in books (because escaping to fiction is part of how she copes - she’s been making extensive use of the campus library ever since she arrived).

The campus is so quiet with most people gone, surely she’ll be able to just chill and unwind?

Yeah no, getting dragged into Scarabia’s business it is.

For what I checked, the Prefect and Grim spend two nights in Scarabia and escape during the third night on the magic carpet. So that’s two full days of marching to the oasis and all that other stuff, and three evenings spent conversing with Jamil and the others. (Feel free to correct me on my canon details tho, since I did just skim through my screenshots instead of a thorough reread.)

During their forced stay in Scarabia, Emi buys Jamil's act hook, line and sinker. I mean, she finds all his flattery a little weird, but chalks it up to cultural differences and Jamil really wanting to convince them to stay and help. 

Though it is a little weird, how she suddenly agreed to stay and help like that - and how she can only think of Jamil’s pretty eyes when thinking back on it.

But, like, she has more pressing things to worry about than that weirdness.

Overall, Jamil seems like a steadying, calming presence in the chaos that is Kalim’s mood swings. Plus he seems like a sensible, reliable person in general - and the whole dorm seems to agree. So Emi definitely drifts towards / becomes partial to Jamil during this time.

When Kalim casually mentions Jamil being his servant and having been with him since childhood, it definitely catches Emi off-guard. She's not used to such arrangements or to dealing with people who’d be rich enough to have people serving them - and Kalim, of course, is at the extreme end of that spectrum. 

The more Emi learns about the extent of Jamil's duties and how long he's had his position, the more bothered she is. Of course, it's not her place to judge, different norms and all, and if Jamil seems fine with it… (🙃) But it just doesn't really sit right with her, since it’s so far out of her realm of experience and from the sort of responsibilities she thinks should be placed on people at that age. Kalim being so capricious here certainly doesn't help her unease any.

I’m sure Jamil would pick up on Emi’s unease whenever Jamil’s servitude would come up. What I’m not sure is if he’d realize what exactly makes her uneasy. So he might just think she looks down on his position or something (poor guy).

On the other hand, the more questions Emi asks (because I think she’d be unable to keep herself from being curious, because what do you mean you’re actually a servant and have been for years), the more likely Jamil is to see that she’s someone who could see the untenability of his position, or offer him some sympathy - or pity, which I suspect he’d be less enthused about.

I still can’t decide when, exactly, Jamil would be catching feels - and when he’d realize them, which is a whole other thing. But this time together - as much as it would be under false pretenses - would certainly give him a fair bit more insight into Emi and her character, compared to what he’s learned mostly second-hand before.

Anyways. Magic carpet happens, and Emi & Grim find themselves at Octavinelle.

Emi’s not exactly delighted about getting the octatrio involved, but it’s not like she has much of a choice in the matter when that’s where the carpet crashes her and Grim. She’s not much involved in what Azul and the tweels are up to, but can certainly sympathize with Jamil struggling to adjust to the disorder they bring.

And then Jamil’s true colors come to light.

It’s only later, when she’s had time to reflect, that Emi starts to suspect that Jamil might’ve used his signature spell on her as well. Still, already at the moment of revelation, she comes to realize how Jamil’s been lying to her and Grim, while getting them involved in the situation.

So it’s Jamil who actually had her marching in the desert and kept her locked up in the dorm, all the while acting oh so concerned. What a jerk.

Plus, Emi being afraid of snakes doesn’t exactly help matters during the overblot.

It’s not like she’s wholly unsympathetic to Jamil’s situation, from what she can gather about the strain he’s been under. Still, she feels hurt, betrayed and used, having trusted Jamil only to find out just how misplaced that trust was. Thus Emi goes from having sought Jamil’s insight and even support to giving him the cold shoulder.

She’s pretty shaken, too - yet another overblot, yet another fight. Plus the stress of having been confined to Scarabia without knowing when she and Grim might be able to leave, and just what might happen until then.

So much for that peaceful holiday trying to recover from all the stress and trouble before this - instead she got some fresh trauma and worries, yay. 🙃

Jamil, meanwhile, gets to watch Emi join the ranks of all the others who are now looking at him with suspicion and seem to want to give him a wide berth.

[hel-phoenyx]

New Year's Eve, part 22

Still the same as ever. The other parts of the story can be found on @corneille-but-not-the-author and @soupedepates's blog, one day I promise I'll do a masterpost (if we ever finish it lmao)

A few days later.

I'm supposed to get out today. Doctor Claro told me.

He also force-prescribed me at least a month of sick leave. Paid. Because apparently "having a metal pipe thrust in your arm enough to endanger nerves and destroy muscles" is not a good situation for a cop to work.

If you say so, doctor. I don't even have the strenght to retort.

I saw Tyr, those few days ago. When the pipe went out of my arm and I was linked to a blood sack and everything in IVs I could need. He was talking with Domhildr behond the door before coming in my room.

Alone.

"Ha.... This time you're the first one."

He told me he warned the others. Some of them did came, during those few days. I saw Brynja, Thorfinn, Gustav. The others... Did they not have the time, with Aarni's job at the library and Hector's clients, or did they just not want to, like Kriss ?

I don't know anymore.

I am tired.

Probably the blood loss.

I'll put on the blood loss the amount of energy needed to be angry, that I didn't have anymore. I'll put on the blood loss the breakdown I had in front of Tyr.

"Are you sure this is a job for you ?"

....

I don't know anymore.

Well, it never was, in a way. I took it because I could do it, because it was well-paid, and because it gave me an opportunity to try and do something. More than being the good cop, destroy the system from the inside.

But what can a man do against a complete militia ?

Not even protect the innocents.

Now I'm walking in a hospital while a comrade sent me there because, for them, I was probably the same as any other cop. Truth be told, I don't even know if I am, or not.

"You know, you should probably change career paths. This one was destroying you from the very beginning."

...

"... And what am I supposed to do, Tyr ?! I don't even have the bac, for fuck's sake, I am deemed too stupid to pursue higher education ! And all the jobs that pay well enough to support my family are locked behind it !"

The tears. The pain. The monitors linked to me beeping furiously.

"Because of course it's easier for you, you are a genius, a prodigy, the golden child of a rich family ! When you dropped out of politics, you could restart in history and marine biology at the same time, because it is that easy for you ! You are a doctorate candidate, with a red carpet to a post of researcher and teaching paid ruby-on-nail, you already do conferences, scientific papers, everything a "respectable man" can do !"

Everything white around me. white, white, so I see red more clearly.

"This is the only thing I can do that makes me thing I am worth something, that I am useful ! What am I supposed to do if I'm not.... This ? What am I if i'm not this ?!"

Tyr's horrified expression.

He didn't try to comfort me. He didn't try to touch me. He didn't even move.

He just looked at me with those eyes.

I saw a droplet of blood on his lips when he finally spoke up.

"You know, for someone so intent on being special, you could probably start by being yourself."

...

Moralizing, lesson-giving dumb fuck.

I am finally reaching my goal. Sigismund's room. doctor Claro said he wanted to keep him in observation for a few more days, because of the head wound, to check if the concussion won't have after effects or something. I don't know, I am no doctor.

A knock. A tired voice tells me to come in.

He's alone. Sitting on his bed, with a book in hands. Several old packs of strawberries, empty, are sitting on his nightstand, and a flower bouquet is blooming next to the window. Someone has got eoverzalous visitors. Lucky bitch.

He looks surprised to see me. Really now ? We were just in the same life or death situation.

"... Hey."

"Fenrir. Wasn't exactly... Expecting you."

I sneer a little.

"Got a lot of visits, eh, lucky bastard ?"

"well, yeah. My parents. Colleagues. And, well, Domhildr, too. She came with her brother, once."

His parents, huh ? So, even if Sarovar Warsowar prefers protecting his person rather than the city, he still comes to the hospital to see his injured son, does he ?

That's more than my parents could ever say.

"Eh. Good for you. Is there leftover strawberries ? I'm starving."

He doesn't answer. Rather, he looks at me with... A weird expression.

"... Domhildr told me you were the one to warn her."

Oh. Yeah. That.

"I thought someone had to. Because the Warsowar wouldn't have given two shits about her, am I right ?"

His face hardens. So I am right.

How do you feel when your parents don't even approve of your girlfriend ?

There is a reason Tyr cut his off.

"... I thought you hated her."

"Oh yeah, I still do. Unsuferrable bitch with too much of a taste for theatrical antics, that one. And she still spread rumors about me."

Even if she tried to "make this right".

Sigismund frowns, but I wasn't finished.

There's a memory coming back, now that he's lying on that hospital bed.

"I just think no one deserved to not be warned when a loved one's life is in danger."

Because when it's too late

It's too late.

Any meaning you wanna give to this.

Sigismund blinks. Tilts his head.

"... That sounded personal."

"Leeeet's say it's not the first time I've seen this hospital. Like you, I suppose. How's the head ?"

Probably understanding he won't have any other answers, he shrugs.

"Better. I think I will be able to go out in a few days, but I have a month of sick leave. Another one. Doctor wouldn't listen to me when i told him I just got back to work."

"Got doctor Claro on your back too, huh ? My arm earned me the same treatment."

Ironically, he only notices the bandaged arm, immobilized against my chest, when I mention it.

"... You got hurt too ?"

"Metal pipe, made pointy at the end gods know how. Almost fractured the bone, ruptured some muscles and damaged some nerves."

I fail to mention that my arm was in the way of his chest.

He looks horrified enough.

"Oh, dear...."

"Yeaaaah. The protest took a turn for the worse after you got knocked out. Colleagues started to get more violent, the bloc retaliated, we got a few exploded cars enough to damage property, hence the metal pipe. Don't know what happened after that but we probably got mass arrestations, even among the peaceful ones. I'm almost happy to have that month of sick leave so I won't deal with that. I'm tired as fuck."

".... I told you we had to intervene."

"Still think the escalation was BECAUSE you tried to interfere, pretty boy."

That earns me a raise of eyebrows. What now ?

"... could you drop the nickname please ? Also, why a nickname, now ?"

"Oh, don't start nitpicking, I'm too tired for this shit."

I see on his face he wants to answer, but he doesn't have time. The door opens in a blow, and behind it the well-known petite silhouette holding a few bags of season berries. How does she get enough money to pay for all of this is a mystery.

"Sigi ! I'm here for your daily girlfriend visit- oh."

She just noticed me, and her smile just dropped a few inches. Yeah, yeah, I know, not happy to see me, I know the drill. I'm not, either, but there is someone Sigismund wants more in that goddamn room, and it is not me.

".... Hello, Fenrir."

"Drop the act," I snarl. "I know you're only being polite for the sake of our little patient over there. i'm not disturbing any longer, anyway. Was about to leave."

She pouts, but at least ignores me and go put the berries on the nightstand, leaving me enough space to go towards the door. Which I do.

I turn towards Sigismund when the doorknob is in my hand.

"Oh, by the way, Walpurgis told me a few days ago that I got enough leads for him to reopen the whole sect file. You'll probably be teaming up with me for this shit when we're back in business, so... Enjoy your leave."

My smile gets grimmer when I pass the door.

"Say hello to Tyr for me, Domhildr, will you ?"

[theclaravoyant]

a bloody kiss + buddie pleeeeeeease

AN ~ (prompt meme) idk who should apologise more for the angst this unleashed, me or you.......... also , hope yall like parallels

buddie (you can decide if it's established before this or if they were just being their usual unhinged selves bc that's the beauty of them) + bonus athena, hen and chim tw: guns, gunshot, (mostly vague) references to a school shooting

read on AO3

-

“Give me a gun, Sergeant, I'm going in.”

Eddie snatches a bulletproof jacket off the resources for the police response team, and starts strapping himself in. There's a second shooter, and Buck's not responding. He's always been handy in a warzone.

“Eddie, don't do this,” Hen warns.

“Save it. If it was Karen in there you'd want to do the same thing.”

“And Bobby would stop me.”

“Well, Bobby's not here. And unlike you, I know what I'm doing with a gun.”

“Do you?” Athena raises an eyebrow. “How long's it been since you last fired one of these?”

“Athena!” Hen objects to no avail as Athena hands over a pistol. Of course, they all know Athena can't throw stones when it comes to level headed responses to loved ones in danger. That's probably why it was her that Eddie asked. Mehta would have probably had him cuffed to the back of the nearest engine to keep him out of trouble.

Eddie takes the pistol, aims at an abandoned can on a bench across the road and fires. It falls to the footpath below with a tiny smoking hole.

“Just like riding a bike.”

“Fine. But you stay behind with my guys, is that clear?” She waves over the tactical team that's gathering for a second round of responses. Mehta's on the radio calling Hen back to the paramedics. She grits her teeth.

“Eddie, if you survive this, I'm going to kill you.”

“Can't wait,” Eddie replies. Key word; if.

Reluctantly, Hen leaves. It's Athena that fixes him with a steely gaze this time.

“Behind. My guys.” She taps over his chest, like she knows that's where the St Christopher medallion rests. “Don't you forget it.”

He nods.

He nods, and falls into a vaguely familiar formation with the responding officers. Reminds himself to try not to get any of them killed if this goes the wrong way. He was really planning on rogue-manning it, but as painfully slow as it is, this is better. Athena's right; he hasn't done this for years, so he has to admit it's helpful to have three extra sets of eyes, sets of instincts to check himself against when every movement, every glinting light, feels like it could be the one to end it all.

“Where'd he say he was going, Diaz?”

“The, uh, the library,” he manages. His voice is thick, like it's trying to stop his heart jumping out of his throat at the same time. “North-west of here.”

“Okay.”

A handful of gestures and they're on the move again. Eddie's more jittery than he expected. Of course he is: there are kids here, and Buck, and maybe he should have thought longer and harder before haunting himself forever with whatever he's about to see. If that's the price of saving him then he can't regret it – but still, he's glad when they round the corner of the next block of classrooms and read across a courtyard; LIBRARY. Classic fairytale characters are painted along the side of the building like they're in a dance, some kind of fantastical conga line, and Eddie's trying really, really hard not to notice the splash of fresh paint across Red Riding Hood. It's paint, he tells himself. It's paint, it's paint, it's – oh god, he's made a mistake.

Then the door behind them opens and he turns and aims at the drop of a hat.

And it's Buck.

“Don't shoot.”

He staggers out of the room with a little girl in his arms. She's clinging to his neck for dear life, screaming up a storm. His hand cradles the back of her head, where her perfect little plaits are smeared with blood.

“Jesus,” Eddie hisses, and drops the gun and runs in to help.

“She's okay, she's okay,” Buck assures him. “Her name is Stephanie C. There was a second shooter, she hid in the bathroom. She's okay. It's not her blood, Eddie. It's not her...”

His knees shudder and he falls against a brick pillar, shoving his free shoulder against it with all his might so that he doesn't collapse onto Stephanie. Eddie's eyes fall to the dark stain on his abdomen and he feels the colour drain from his face. He hands Stephanie off to one of the officers and scoops himself under Buck's arm.

“Stay with me,” he pleads, as Buck's feet scrabble uselessly against the pavers, trying to help his way along. They fly back through the school this time, and every time they have to pause for the point officers to clear a corner Eddie feels Buck's life slipping out of his hands. “Stay with me, Buck,” he repeats. He chants. “Just got to get you back to the truck. Not long now. Stay with me.”

They stumble off the grounds at last and Hen and Chim are already waiting with a gurney. Eddie all but falls into the back of the ambulance with him. He can't let go. His hands are covered in Buck's blood; his face; his whole uniform is. But he can't let go.

“Looks like a through and through,” Hen states, ripping packages off bandages and packing the wound. Buck groans with the pain of it, but at least he's awake. “There he is. Stay with us, Buck. How many shots, did you see?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I don't know.”

“How long was it freely bleeding?” Chim asks.

“I don't know, I don't know,” Eddie repeats. “He didn't talk about it, he came out of this building carrying a kid and then he passed out.”

“Hey, Eddie?” Buck asks drowsily. “'s Christopher okay?”

Oh. Shit.

Eddie looks at Chimney and sees it too - Back in time. Back to Shannon. Ice runs through his veins.

He smiles, in case it's the last thing Buck ever sees, and pulls the medallion out from his shirt collar.

“Christopher is fine,” he promises, pressing it into Buck's hand. “He can't wait to see you. Come back to him, okay?”

Come back to me.

He presses a kiss to Buck's lips and it tastes like blood and sweat and tears.

The monitors start screaming.

“Oh, no you don't, Buckaroo,” Chimney demands. Eddie feels a hand on his shoulder pull him back. He moves numbly. There's nothing he can do but let them work.

And start to pray.

[digi-tama-in-your-pocket]

YES! My connection finally came! I finally get to run my very first Tamagotchi Connection! Yes...... that's right, the V1 I ordered finally came!

And also some other things....

I know I know.... I said no more v-pets till October aside from the connection remake, But, listen, to be fair, I ordered the connection V1/Plus and the Genjintch long before I said that and they only just got here. The V2 and the Teku Teku Angel were just really cheap. Also Tama lunch box and chop sticks to make shipping more worth it.

So the Connection remake is probably not going to be my first Tamagotchi Connection. I was excited to run it this month, but the fact that it's not going to be here until Monday has made me change my plans.

Here's what i'll do... I want to get a bit of an appreciation for how the connection evolved, so, I'm going to run the V1 until my first Tama dies. Then i'll run the V2 until the end of the month. Then, on the 1st of the month, I'll run the remakes. That should give me more appreciation for the Connection line, at least up to the V3. I'd like to try the others at some point, I just don't know if I should buy vintage ones, or wait and see if Bandai has plans to remake more than just the V3.

The one I got is in pretty good condition, there's some ghosting, but it's barely noticeable, unlike the vintage Gen 2 I bought some time ago where it's distracting. I can see how this started forming ideas of modern tamagotchi, right down to the sound effects being similar to what we've got on the Uni. But the V1 isn't that much different than a gen 1/2, in fact I find myself fighting my impulse to highlight the 2nd icon on the bottom row to look at stats, I'm so used to them putting the stats in an inconvenient place that it's become second nature to me with black and white Tamas, even though Digimon put stats first years ago.

Why Oyajitchi for the charm? Because it's the only device I have where Oyajitchi is raisable, since they cut him out of the english Gen1 in favor of Bill. I might replace it with a different character later if I find one that fits. Someday I'd like to get a Japanese Gen 1/2 just so I can have all the secret characters available, so this is definitely a temporary home for him.

In other v-pet news, I spent a good portion of the day organizing my Digimon and trying to arrange them in a way where I'd have more space, since my Digimon drawers are nearly full. I finally came up with the idea of all of my bricks being in the top drawer arranged in rows ( X3 appears to be missing only because i'm currently running it ) and the same with my Pendulums, there's just enough space for 3 rows of six, so once the 2nd wave of PenC gets here, i'll have two full rows with just enough space for my 20ths, and a few extra devices in case I feel like checking out some vintage releases some day. The bottom drawer will be reserved for my Vital bracelets, digivices, and other miscellaneous releases. Maybe they'll surprise us an make a legitimately new Digimon virtual pet some day. They're running out of things to remake.

I actually did have to take a few v-pets out and I decided to make a container dedicated to extra v-pets and v-pets I keep for spare parts and put it in storage, Because I stupidly bought a bunch of DM20ths and ran almost none of them, part of that was just so I could have all the exclusive eggs ( even though I don't care about any of them that much ) but the other part was for customization reasons. I kept my first DM20th, and my translucent green which I ran the most and completed the library in my drawer.

[the-jesus-pill]

Is there a word for missing being in a shitty religion because it made you feel like you had a purpose? I dunno, it's just. I know it's a cult now, I never want to go back, but fuck if I don't miss actually Knowing who I am and what I'm supposed to do and feeling like I belong somewhere. Is that a thing that usually happens? Do you have any resources for dealing with it? I hope this isn't an inappropriate question.

This is normal! I haven't been a part of the church for probably more than a decade and sometimes I still wonder if I'd be happier being part of something where if you say the right things and make the right decisions you will be accepted, praised and loved.

It's both the positive and partially the negative of leaving - now you can decide who you want to be, what you want to do, who your friends are.

I think everyone who leaves a community, whether that community was religious or otherwise, whether it was healthy or not, experience this feeling of 'well, what do I do now?'

But the good news is that there will always be another group for you, whether you find them right away or not. Humans are social animals, and there are people who want you in their lives as much as you want to be in theirs. Finding them is the difficult part but it's so rewarding when you do.

My advice is find out what you like or what you want to learn and see if there is a community for it nearby!

This can be paid lessons like dancing, yoga, hiking groups, learning music or other languages, or it can be hobbies like cosplay, table top roleplaying, crafting, theater, etc. Learning a sport or doing local activism can also be a good way to get to know others (although be careful with activism, while it's a very good cause, it should not be a hobby and it can have its own complications)

If there's nothing in your immediate local area, try online communities! Online book clubs, writing groups, fandoms and roleplaying, music appreciation are good examples to start, lots of people there and many of them looking for newcomers to share their passions with.

Check out your local library or fandom stores (like comic book or cosplay shops) for smaller events - and Reddit has a lot of communities for basically anything you can come up with.

Feeling like you don't have a place is a very common feeling, even amongst those who aren't apostates. Everyone feels self conscious about not having enough friends - or not having ANY friends. We're told we need to belong somewhere to matter.

But in truth you have all the time in the world to find your people. You might find a group of friends and then it doesn't work out - friends leave or there are falling outs and it can feel like you're not cut out to have relationships. It's normal to not immediately find your soulmates, your BFFs, your found family on the first try. Keep trying! They are out there.

Edit: I recommend reading this article! Ask Polly: How Am I Supposed To Make Friends In My Late 20s?

[poewritesgayshit]

Only God knows if you're still taking requests-- but how do you feel about a Fyolai+Sigma where Nikolai convinces Sigma that they should Noncon Fyodor? It can start as Noncon and end with all parties really into it, lol. I leave it to your creative genius, Poe. I just want to see Fyodor bottoming for both of them and hating how much he is enjoying it for a change lol. Mindbreak is also a cute detail if you want. Hope you consider it! 💖💖

↪ ⋆ ▫ ∙ we're what killed the dinosaurs | fyosiglai request 🎉 ∙ ▫ ⋆ ↩

word count: 1.4 k. mostly pwp

description:

Sigma is tired of Nikolai's games, even if the point of this one is to make everyone get along. But he'll play fair. After all, this is the first time Nikolai's used this type of method. (An aphrodisiac that works as a slow-acting poison? Is he serious?) Yeah... Sigma knows everyone can survive this one. So he'll do what he can, even if it means doing something he really shouldn't do.

contains: most of the above and also

fuck or die

fyodor is in a non-speaking role; he is completely restrained and subdued. i wasn't sure how to write sigma being in the more dominant role without nikolai having a very heavy hand in things

trans masc sigma, also trans masc sigma taking dick without protection and getting creampied

notes: hey nonnie thank u for the request! this was actually my first one, can you believe it? and i hope this wasnt too long of a wait! my whole family had covid and i was running a fever. ill crosspost to ao3 once i stop fucking around on discord and get around to it 👉👈 hope u like it

edit: ao3 link is here! https://archiveofourown.org/works/52099318

The last thing Sigma saw before he passed out was the spine of the library book he'd just checked out toppling to the floor next to him. The first thing he saw when he woke up was Nikolai's face.

"Welcome, Sigma! Welcome! Want to play a game?" Nikolai was glowing. Sigma resisted the urge to sock him square in the jaw because he was in survival mode now, and survival mode meant he needed to keep all his fingers.

"I'm not at the library," Sigma said, phrasing it as a statement instead of a question, and Nikolai's face lit up.

"Ding ding ding! Cor-rect! Now, for ten additional points, guess where you are!"

Sigma was not playing his game.

"Probably some warehouse in Yokohama somewhere," Sigma said, because the lights were off, and he couldn't really see, and he was so lightheaded that what he could see wasn't helping much. But after letting his eyes adjust, he realized that the lights wouldn't help. Nikolai had covered every surface with dark green fabric, fabric so thick that he couldn't tell one surface from another.

"That is…" Nikolai paused. "In-correct! Want to buy a vowel?" He ripped the fabric off of what appeared to be a large chalkboard, where the partially-written words 'L - - -  H - - - -' were spelled in permanent marker, along with a half-drawn hangman figure.

Sigma was about to tell Nikolai off for being childish, but then, it hit him all at once, and he stood up… then fell over again, after realizing how weak he really was.

"Nikolai, am I in a love hotel?"

"Whoa! You're pretty smart, Sigma!" Nikolai fanned himself with a paper fan that he'd pulled out of nowhere, and then snapped it shut, tilting Sigma's chin up with its edge. "But you weren't able to figure out that we aren't the only ones in this room."

With a flourish, he ripped the green velvet off of a loveseat in the middle of the room, to reveal Fyodor Dostoevsky. He was bound and gagged, naked, with his legs tied apart. He was covered with a fine sheen of sweat, as if he was feverish, and he looked just as weak as Sigma felt.

"The aphrodisiac I administered to both of you is also a slow-acting poison. 'The effects can be delayed by sexual release…' at least that's what it says here on the bottle." Nikolai tossed a glass bottle over his shoulder. "I have enough antidote for both of you, but first, I want you to compete in another game with me~"

"I've had enough of your games," Sigma said, the furious words dropping from his lips before he could hold his tongue.

"But, Sigma, dear, don't you want to live?" Nikolai asked, and then, he kissed him.

It was true. Sigma wanted to live.

Nikolai's lips didn't feel repulsive—at least, Sigma didn't want to instinctively jerk away when Nikolai wrapped his hand around the back of his neck and held him still. Maybe it was the fact that the aphrodisiac had already taken effect, or the fact that he was scared of him. But Sigma didn't want to move.

From across the room, Fyodor watched them with sharp eyes.

"You know, I was so relieved when you both made it out okay. I thought I might have been broken, because I wasn't supposed to feel that way. When I'm no longer tied to anyone or anything, I truly have free will—or at least, that's what I thought. You see, I've grown attached to you, too, Sigma. I was grieving for you, too. And when I found out you were also okay, I ran as quickly as I could to see you. So, I thought, 'why don't we all celebrate? Instead of killing each other… why don't we all try to survive instead? By showing each other some love… isn't that right?' " Nikolai said.

Sigma felt ill. "So you want to watch me and Fyodor fucking? Is that what you're trying to say?"

"Oh, no no no, you don't need to use that kind of language~ But if you insist~ you might want to do it soon. He's been waiting here for a long time, you know. In ten minutes, he'll pass out~ Thirty minutes until organ failure will start, and in forty-five minutes, he'll become incontinent. Within two hours, if I don't forcibly administer the antidote, he'll die, and even if I do, he won't be able to stand without mobility aids. Should I go on?" Nikolai continued to monologue. He clearly had this all planned out.

Sigma stared at Dostoevsky, tied up in his chair. Fyodor looked pathetic. He was a sobbing wreck—he must be in immense pain, too. Sigma blinked, and Nikolai must have removed all of the cloth that was covering the tables in that split second, because they lay bare, covered with BDSM paraphernalia, vibrators, condoms and lube, even knives and scissors.

Sigma, without thinking, stood up and approached Fyodor.

Once he got there, his knees gave way, and he just… collapsed on top of him. And Sigma stayed there, his head buried in the crook of his neck, rutting his arousal against Fyodor's.

Fyodor was smaller than he was, but Sigma didn't think he was going to crush him. Sigma realized that he'd been undressed in his sleep—this feels like a dream, Sigma thought, listening to Fyodor's pathetic whines as he rubbed his clit up against the head of his cock. He realized, without acknowledging it fully, that he was making just as much noise as Fyodor was, and that somehow, he was so wet that he could just… slide Fyodor right inside of him. And he did just that, acting on impulse and sinking all the way down so Fyodor's cockhead could nudge against his cervix.

 What happens if he cums in me? 

This thought felt like it was happening in a distant memory as Sigma fucked himself hard on Fyodor's shaft. Fyodor screamed through his gag and he figured the other man might have already finished… but he must have thought too soon. A glance over his shoulder revealed that Nikolai had his cape draped over his lap and was playing with something in between his thighs. It didn't take a genius to figure out what he had buried in that cape, and where it had ended up. Sure enough, Fyodor's sobs of overstimulation were because Nikolai had buried himself up to the root and was painfully teasing his prostate.

Sigma, feeling a little bit bad for him, cupped Fyodor's face and kissed along his jaw as he struggled in his grip. Fyodor looked like he was close to an orgasm, but Sigma hadn't gotten anywhere near his own. Sure enough, he shuddered in Sigma's arms, and Sigma felt him release inside. The morning after pill wasn't easy to acquire, and he was already trying to figure out if he'd have better luck just going to Yosano—but suddenly, as he was dismounting, something stopped his train of thought.

When Sigma tried to get up, Nikolai blocked his way. He was behind him, holding him still. He wrapped a hand around his neck, and that was when Sigma screamed. But Nikolai wasn't trying to kill him. He removed his hand as soon as Sigma relaxed and slid back down, filling himself once again. Then, he... grabbed his hips, lifting him and slamming him down. Nikolai went one step further than that, wrapping one hand underneath each of his thighs and using all his strength to pick him up. picking him up. He was manhandling him and sliding him up and down on Fyodor's cock—It felt unbelievably good, better than anything Sigma could do on his own. He then pressed something into Sigma's hand, then guided his hand down and against his cunt. It was a vibrator, something Sigma had never bought or used before. And when he switched it on, the stimulation plus whatever Nikolai was doing to him made him want to cry. Sigma sobbed, burying his head in Fyodor's shoulder as Nikolai helped his friend use his body as a living fleshlight. He didn't even realize that he was having an orgasm until three minutes into his second one. The buildup was just as intense as the climax itself, and his body just kept going, spasming, sandwiched in between Fyodor and Nikolai for what seemed like hours.

Sigma was only aware that he had passed out when he woke up. Nikolai must have done something while he was distracted; because this wasn't a normal occurrence for him, not in the slightest.

"The antidote," he managed, his mouth dry. Nikolai, lying in bed next to him, perked up when he heard him say it.

"Oh, the antidote~ It's all done! I gave it to you while you slept!" Nikolai said, with the same cadence as if he was telling Sigma he had a birthday present he hadn't given to him yet.

"...Where's Fyodor?" Sigma asked, then, the words crowding behind his lips before he said them as if he didn't want to set them free.

"He's in the other room. He asked for you. Do you want to see him again?" Nikolai said, and he was all sparkles and hearts and glitter and fire.

Sigma was smoke, he was dust, he was ash. He felt like he would blow away in the wind.

"I don't."