#changing your mind is for fucking quitters

[aliaology]

MAROON

summary: being a planner meant your life was organized. but not everything goes according to plan.

pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader

warnings: cheating, mentions of sex (riding), shattered glass.

you were losing it, officially. it wasn’t supposed to go this way. no, not at all. your life was not supposed to turn upside down in one hour. your life was not supposed to change. no, no, no it couldn’t, not when you had it all planned out.

you planned it perfectly. wake up, work, come home to your loving boyfriend. you were supposed to get married in july. a peaceful, small wedding. you didn’t want a big one.

quinn hughes didn’t want a big one either, but he made a big mistake. you were supposed to go to greece for your honeymoon.

you were not supposed to be standing in the doorway of your apartment. glass shattered on the floor, some still in your hand. burgundy liquid stained the white carpet and your gray shirt.

clothes that were not yours were not supposed to be strewn along your bedroom floor. heels that were not yours were not supposed to be by the bed.

your soon to be husband was not supposed to be in bed with another woman that was not you.

blood rushed to your cheeks, but not from being flustered, from being angry. you turned around dropping the rest of the glass onto the floor.

“y/n!” you heard. the audacity of a man to call for you after having sex with another woman was a slap in the face.

the audacity to sleep with another woman in your shared bed was disgusting. you stormed your way to the door, sliding your work shoes right back on.

you heard footsteps and a few hisses of pain here and there. “y/n, please!”

you turned around, looking at your soon to be ex-fiancé in the eye. your face was red, and stained from tears as you cried, but you kept your composure.

“was she good, quinn? was she fucking worth it? worth your entire fucking six year relationship, because lord i sure hope she was!” you yelled, putting your coat on.

“baby—“

“i am not your baby anymore, quinn. no, we are fucking done! i don’t care if you needed stress relieved, or if you are drunk, i dont give a fuck! you fucked another woman in our bed, our bed.”

quinn had a pained look on his face as he stood in front of you, only in his boxers.

“and dont say you’re sorry because you aren’t. you’re sorry because you were caught.” you glared at him, grabbing your keys.

“y/n—“

“will you just stop? stop trying, quinn! you did this. you ruined this! you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants for thirty minutes. maybe i haven’t been giving you attention or maybe you were unhappy but that will never— should’ve never given you the fucking right.” you scoffed out.

you turned to the door and opened it. before stepping out, you pulled your ring off of your finger and threw it to the ground. you then walked out and slammed the door behind you.

you skipped the elevator and went for the stairwell instead.

you were going crazy. messages after messages. no matter what, he was near you all the time. trying to apologize by giving you gifts, or talking to you, he kept trying.

quinn hughes was not a quitter. but he was a cheater. so in some ways, he quit your relationship once cheating.

you groaned in frustration, slamming the phone in your office down as you heard the receptionist tell you that quinn was waiting for you, yet again. you groaned even more when he came waltzing through your office door.

“what are you doing here, quinn?” you asked, drained. you leaned back in your chair in frustration.

his lips parted. lips you used to call home. your gaze fixated on them for a moment as he started to talk. your eyes shifted back to his.

“i want to fix us, y/n.” he spoke, voice raspy.

he took the seat in front of your desk and inched in closer. his eyes were red from crying. his lips were red in irritation, they were chapped.

“you very well made your mind up of where we were once that lady was in your bed.” you spit out.

your cheeks grew pink from irritation. quinn rubbed his face before his hands came together and rested under his chin.

“it was a mistake, y/n. i— i wasn’t thinking straight.” he stuttered out.

his eyes caught on the wilted flowers on your window sill. carnations. he accidentally bought them thinking they were roses, your favorite, but gave them to you anyways.

you scoffed, eyes narrowing as you looked at him. “and having her ride you was a mistake too right? putting her in your favorite position? real mistake.” you spoke, harshly.

“y/n please—“ he tried to plead.

“go home, quinn.” you sighed out.

you awoke with a cold sweat. the feeling of sadness and anger rushed over you as you sat up in a bed that wasn’t yours. you breathed heavily, hearing footsteps near your door before the knob turned and opened.

elias stood in the doorway. “everything okay?” he asked.

you were in elias pettersson’s place. in his guest room. you watched his girlfriend walk in behind him.

you nodded, wiping your forehead. “yeah— yeah im alright.” you whispered.

you weren’t. you woke with the memory of quinn over you. the feeling of him was enough to wake you up in such a way you hated it.

he left a real fucking mark on you, and you didn’t want it permanent.

you did not plan to be in elias petterssons house. you did not plan to be cancelling your wedding. you did not plan to be here. maybe you would stop planning from here on.

you looked outside. the sky was maroon. your face was red from blood rushing to your cheeks. everything was maroon.

tags (perm!): @slaythehousebootsdown13 , @outrunangelss , @um-mads , @bqbylon , @whoreforthehughesbrothers , @p3nislawd , @queenmendes , @absolutelyhugh3s , @hockeyboysarehot ,

[keep-it-retro]

Prompts from GLOW Season 1

Lines of dialogue from the first season of Netflix’s GLOW. Change as needed.

“I will not be bullied into submission.”

“Do people think you're pretty?”

“Fuck you, Nancy Reagan!”

“You got jumped by a bunch of children?”

“This is the only place I get to do what I want to do!”

“Things don’t just happen. People want things and then they go for them.”

“If you wanna do something more than nod and eat a salad, and make a pretty cry-face, you are punished.”

“Maybe you did die. Maybe we're all dead and this is the afterlife.”

“I am the Cézanne of bullshit artists.”

“Now, slouch. Submit. She might kill you.”

“Take me home. Now. Give me your fucking keys. I'm taking your car.”

“Try not giving a fuck. There's power in that.”

“There are drugs in the fucking robot!”

“Just 'cause we're at a party doesn't mean we're at all okay.”

“There's one ball you can't castrate- That's the mind!”

“He was so pissed when he found that pillow dummy in your bed.”

“That white girl bullshit might work on teachers and cops, but not me.”

“This whole thing is a soap opera!”

“[Name], don't make me be the rules person. I'm not emotionally equipped for it.”

“You drag me here at the ass-crack of dawn…”

“So, you're, like… sleeping with him?”

“In the past six weeks you've known me, you ever hear me tell a joke?”

“She's jealous, all right? She's just got a crush on you.”

“Guess you better get yourself a lawyer.”

“Roger Moore is by far the best Bond.”

“Oh, I'm not her boyfriend. I'm her husband.”

“Sorry. I'm sure this is not how you wanted to spend your morning.”

“I feel like a goddamn superhero.”

“Sometimes, I'm so sad you took away the option of us ever being able to have a normal fucking conversation.”

“All right, first song to come on, it's an omen.”

“Does anyone else feel the need to pee and puke at the same time?

“As soon as this is over, we're gonna party. We're gonna celebrate.”

“You're a fucking quitter.”

“You wanna make out again?”

“If this is too silly for you, you can leave.”

"You flew! It was epic!"

[xpao-bearx]

This is dedicated to the absolutely beautiful hooman bean @basketobread 💕 They are truly one of the best people I've EVER met and has such a kind, wonderful heart!!! Furthermore, all of their artworks are literal ✨️MASTERPIECES✨️ They and their works are a constant source of joy for me and I just got inspired to write this very short, very simple fic of my BG3 Tav and their much beloved character Lunara meeting 🥰 It's not much, but I hope y'all like it and I hope even more that I did Lunara's amazing character justice! This is also my first time writing my Tav in a story format so it's great practice and an opportunity to flesh her out more before I post my fic of her and Astarion :)

More about my Tav here + this is the song she's singing in this story (and fun fact: I headcanon the singer to be my Tav's voiceclaim!) ❤️

Fic is under the cut and thanks sooo much for reading!! \(^o^)/

Darkness consumed the drow cleric's entire visage. A darkness that reminded her of her past in the Underdark; a waking nightmare she miraculously escaped, forging a path of her own, under the light and guidance of her Lady of Silver.

But this time, she feared that this smothering darkness would be...permanent. She could feel herself blinking, yet only blackest black and the stinging prick of her tears greeted her. She felt the ground beneath her and she doesn't think she broke any bones--or so she hopes--but she couldn't move. There was a looming heaviness in her chest and ice gripping at her heart.

Is she...dying? Eyes fluttering shut, she's resigned to her paralysis, but has not given up hope.

Because fuck that, she's most definitely not a quitter.

"M-My Lady of S-Silver..." She murmured, weak in physique but ever strong in her faith. "P-Please watch o-over me, h-help me overcome..."

She hasn't the faintest clue how long she stayed like that, strengthening herself in prayer, though eventually her ears perked up at the sound of...footsteps?

Something--or, rather, someone--sat next to her. She heard some shuffling then the soft strum of a lyre being played and a beautiful, soothing voice reverberating in her head.

"Flower, gleam and glow

Let your power shine

Make the clock reverse

Bring back what once was mine"

As the mystery songstress continued, she could feel power coursing through her veins, slowly but surely. She blinked once more and faint spots of light danced amidst the shadows.

"Heal what has been hurt

Change the Fates' design

Save what has been lost

Bring back what once was mine

What once was mine"

She felt her fingers twitching, toes wiggling; and, like a flower blossoming, she rose. She let out a sharp gasp as she sat up, chest still heavy but not as excruciating as it was before.

She's alive.

She blinked rapidly, perfect vision returning. She had hardly a moment to gather her bearings when someone's voice rang excitedly.

"Holy hells! I'm so glad you weren't, like, completely dead! Good thing I saw you just in time!"

Her gaze landed on the young woman before her. A half-drow with a smile as bright as the sun and mismatched eyes (one, she noticed, being a rather unusual blood red with a prominent scar across it). She was pretty--ahem, very pretty, might she add--but looked worse for wear. Something she was sure she looked, too.

Before either of them could say anything else, a migraine hit them both like a spiked club. They both cradled their heads in their hands, fragments of a hellish nautiloid swirling in their minds, waiting for the pain to pass and their eyes meeting in recognition.

When it finally did, the stranger piped up once more.

"Oh, wow, we're parasite pals!"

Despite the situation of it all, she laughed. A welcoming warmth radiated from the strange stranger, enveloping her and easing the tension of all of today's utter bullshit. From being kidnapped by godsdamned Mind Flayers to being infected by a disgusting parasite, she laughed and felt comforted that, at the very least, she was not alone.

"Indeed we are!" She grinned before holding her hand out. "Thank you so, so much for saving me! My name is Lunara and you are..?"

The stranger beamed, shaking Lunara's hand and her other hand making a theatrical waving gesture. "Mon'sun, at your service, fair maiden! Perhaps you've heard of me, perhaps not. The tale of my titillating life is still being written, you see~"

'Ehe. TIT-illating.' Lunara thought to herself, letting out a small chuckle before clearing her throat. She was a toootally mature adult, after all.

"Well, Mon'sun, Selûne's blessings upon you!" Lunara did a half bow, mimicking Mon'sun's theatrics which Mon'sun definitely approved of. "Besides your incredibly kind and gracious act of saving me, I'm positive my Lady of Silver led you here for a reason. What say you we band together and find a cure for this parasite?"

"Oho, asking to team up so fast? I would say take me out to dinner first, but I'm pretty easy sooo..." She joked, making a show of thinking before gasping dramatically, pretending to cry tears of joy. "Yes! A thousand times yes!"

Lunara just as dramatically placed a hand over her heart, sniffling. "Thank you! I promise to make you a happy woman!"

As they both stood up chattering and laughing away, preparing for the thrill of adventure ahead, Lunara noticed she was missing her coin pouch.

"Have you seen my coin pouch? I could've sworn I had it tied tightly around my waist, so there's no way it could've fallen off after the nautiloid crash." Lunara questioned as her purple eyes darted around their surroundings, ash and smoke rising from all the debris.

"Perhaps it burned away from the flames of the crash." Mon'sun replied smoothly, helping Lunara seek for her humble riches.

(Pssst, Mon'sun is lying and has Lunara's pouch in her pack, but she rolled a Nat 20 on ✨️deception✨️ sooo...)

"Well, nevermind then!" Lunara shrugged, smiling. "I'm sure our Lady of Silver will grant us great blessings for our journey. In fact, she has already bestowed upon me a most wonderful blessing in the form of a kind, trustworthy new friend!"

Narrator: *As the two drow kin embark on their perilous quest to free themselves of their parasites, a haunting voice echoes deep within the recesses of Mon'sun's mind; her own parasite. One of a different, godly breed taunting her--tormenting her.*

"Do you wish to find comfort in the presence of another inferior god, spiderling?" Lolth cackled, cruel music flooding Mon'sun's ears, vicious mockery only she can hear. "Such foolishness will only bring about disappointment...much like your new companion. But I am here, spiderling. Always watching. It is only a matter of TIME for you to bathe in her blood."

Mon'sun abruptly stopped in her tracks, shutting her eyes tight, nails digging into the palms of her hands that nearly drew blood as she willed the spider goddess to not so kindly fuck off. She was used to this by now, the lure of Lolth's appalling temptations always merciless, sickening, and...gratifying.

But no. She will never ever give in. Absolutely fucking NOT!

"Are you alright, Mon'sun?"

Mon'sun's eyes snapped open, sweat beading down her temple and wide, frantic eyes landing on Lunara, a few feet in front of her staring at her in concern.

"...I forgot!" A beat too late, a beat too nervous. But thankfully, Lunara didn't seem to notice it, only watching in curiousity as Mon'sun rummaged through her pack that was literally ripping off the seams.

Mon'sun then procured a small purple pouch, smiling sheepishly as she handed it to Lunara.

"Apologies, friend. I stole picked this up earlier and just remembered it now. This must be yours, yes?"

Lunara caught Mon'sun completely off guard when she launched herself at the other girl, wrapping her arms around Mon'sun.

"Oh, our Lady of Silver truly blesses me! Thank you, friend, your kindness knows no bounds!" Lunara giggled.

Mon'sun was still for a few moments before returning the embrace, laying her head against Lunara's chest. Her bardic ear listened close, the faint thrum of Lunara's heartbeat--as lovely as its owner--lulling her to a wonderful sense of security.

No matter how temporary.

[grimtermemeing]

No Context Only Chaos P7

{ Change things to fit characters, of course. Normally I try to edit these to be easier to do so, but a few lines were too funny as-is. }

So far [Name] hasn't responded to my message, so either he hasn't seen it, or it was ominous enough he's decided "wtf I'm not responding to that."

And now darkness has no longer fallen, but we can't warp anymore.

Why the fuck is there no places to go?

Kidnap me please... no!! It kidnapped me!

I got no thoughts in my brain. 🎶

The braincell is lonely in my brain. 🎵

Ravioli are just Italian Gushers.

Mmm... bees.

Soooo are you gonna release the bees or are we gonna wait?

Gotta get that sweet sweet event wax.

Hey at least it's event wax and not earwax.

I'm gonna mercilessly crash down through the sky, honking all the way.

It was a quiet polite honk though. Not a maddening vicious honk-tastrophy.

I hate people... anyway, be right back.

I don't wanna make new friends, I've got enough friends, and trauma from new friends!

Oh okay I just gotta bonk into people with my candle.

What's a little second degree burn between friends?

Damn, y'all are quitters.

Oh holy shit this isn't what Hydaelyn intended.

You know what really gargles my goyles?

This is a group improv class being held in a SAW dungeon. Good luck.

Stop putting words in my mouth! They're some of my least favorite things to have in there!

In my defense, I said no immediately after.

If I had a million dollars I would not still have a uterus, amen brother.

No Mosses were harmed in the making of this meal.

I almost burnt my eyebrows off.

Don't mind me, just grabbing a child.

That minecraft urge to run frolicking through the deepslate cavern, looking for diamonds.

Tell me that's edible glitter.

You're a daily quest rainbow.

A circle, which is very circular, very nice.

Little bastard woofbeast needs to FUCK OFF away from my greasy, sodium-drenched hell-dinner.

Thank you all for putting this in the crudest terms possible, instead of engaging in a reasoned debate about the moral and ethical implications of close interaction with the undead.

I'm torn between "oh god I love you guys" and "WHAT THE FUCK HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO."

I don't need the teenager to remind me that I routinely roll ones on my social adept skill checks.

I thought you got to be friends with someone by bashing your head against them until they love you.

You know what's terrifying? When you put it that way it sounds simple, normal and rational instead of totally batshit crazy.

... so help me I will light you on fire.

Yes let's just pair the one-man army with the tactical genius and master psychic.

I feel all warm and fuzzy inside now. Like an inside out hamster or something.

What kind of demonic being did you pay off to not gag on that?

I mean, that's practically why we're friends.

Our mutual honest and open loathing of the worst humanity has to offer?

Let's do the fork in the garbage disposal!

You're gonna get, like, some world ending monstrosity out of that, I know it.

Brain stop brain'ting.

I know this too shall pass but man it's passing like a gotdamn kidney stone.

Instructions unclear, sassed the fairy queen.

Well that's agree-gious.

Candibles.

[ P1 - P2 - P3 - P4 - P5 - P6 ]

[patchedrabbit]

There's a Hole that You Fill.

Pairing: Gregor Samsa (Limbus Company)/M!Fixer!Reader Warnings: Vague and brief mention of violence, Emetophobia (in picture, not fic) Commissioned by @wizardofwoof Previous | Next

One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from agitated dreams, he found his room transformed around his bed into a monstrous vermin.

That is, to say, it was unfamiliar. And if he followed Faust’s explanation correctly, that entailed a shift in his psyche. So despite the metal walls appearing softer than usual, and the messages on the walls rearranged into something more reassuring, there was the kicker of not knowing what had changed, even when he knew something was off.

And the butterflies kicking in his stomach were getting awfully annoying too.

“Gregor, babe~ what’s that far-away stare for? You don’t wanna make poor Dante turn back the clock more than they have to, do you?” Gregor huffs at the woman mocking him as he slashes at one of the Rats who thought it’d be a good idea to bash on Mephistopheles. “As if— that’s the last of them, anyway. C’mon.” The Sinner hides the embarrassing expression growing on his face by pretending to clean his glasses (is that a spec of blood? Must scrub even harder!), though he never knew Rodion to be a quitter. “You can’t keep dodging the question forever… what’s on your mind?” “Nothing much. My room just changed.” “Changed how? Like someone reorganized it or…” Gregor sighs and throws his coat over his shoulder, and uses his hand to properly push Rodion away. “If that was it you wouldn’t be bugging me so bad.” Rodion stifles a smirk at that specific wording — she purposefully isn’t hiding it very well and it’s driving Gregor crazy — and leans on his head with her arm. “Why don’t you show me around then, hmm?” “Maybe if it’ll get you to shut up,” he mumbles. “What was that?” “Huh- oh, uh, nothing, sure.”

Once steel hard walls now appear to have the texture of lace, with a light pink to match. Words that once read no more have now been covered with paint, taking on the form of hearts and stars and all sorts of other shapes. Curiously, it looked different than the blood once coating the room, the red more vibrant and childlike than the rich scarlet from before. The only thing that seemed to have avoided the repaint was the ashtray residing on the counter next to Gregor’s bed. “Still haven’t given up that smoking habit? But this place seems like you’ve had a little feel-good arc, no?” “I’ll give it up once you give up your gambling,” Gregor replies, although he’s too occupied moseying to his bed and collapsing onto it to think about what he’s saying. Still, Rodion chuckles with a, “touché,” and leans by the entrance. “Is it that Fixer from the other day?” “Was — ”

“What was he from… was it Zwei?” “Yeah, I think, but—” “A little birdie told me that we got a contract that says they’ll be working with us again~” Gregor places his hand over his face and makes an exasperated sigh, pulling at his skin as he drags it downwards. He turns his head to look at Rodion, and she has the most shit-eating grin on her face. “I don’t know what makes you assume all that.” “It’s really easy to tell when you get attached, hun,” she tilts her head and places her hands on her hips, almost disapprovingly. “It is?” “Oh. Oh, Greg. “You’re fucked.”

Even as Vergilius is giving some kind of instruction, Gregor still finds himself distracted; though, it’s not like the other Sinners aren’t consistently distracted as well. He only snaps back to attention when asked if they understood… which they obviously did not. But that would be Dante’s problem, and besides, Gregor was one of the more composed fighters out of the bunch.

When they’re forced off the bus to meet up with the Zwei Fixers (something about another unusual Abnormality breakout, supposedly there’d be a Golden Bough trade-off that Gregor was certain wouldn’t go over smoothly), he finds himself stuck in one place and just staring intently, searching for someone in particular. He jumps when there’s a voice behind him. “Gregor! I heard help was hired for this mission, but I didn’t imagine it’d be you guys again!” Good God, he practically melts. But he knows better than to be caught unaware, shaking off the after-effects, and glances over his shoulder.

“Hey, bud, didn’t know you’d be here. They got you working to the bone, huh?” “Well, with the casualties from last time, we’re going to be lacking units for a while… but it’s not all bad.”

He lost his religion a long time ago, but he finds himself praying that that sort of naivety won’t get you killed. Still, it was heartwarming to see you in good spirits.

You offer a hand to him, and he stands awkwardly for a moment, unsure. Were you expecting… a handshake? He barely catches you shaking your head before grabbing his hand and dragging him along, to catch up with the rest of the group. He thinks he hears you say it's safer if we stick together, right?

It's hard to make out over the pounding in his ears.

The battles were a bit of a blur. That sorta thing happens when it's the same thing over and over; a repetition he wasn't so fond of. He was the least fond of the fact the only fight he remembered was when he got caught off guard and almost shred to bits — if you hadn't stepped in and swept the opponent away with your blade, that is. You had said the slogan then, "We're the Zwei, 'Your Shield,'" and despite how cheesy it was and how he couldn't even be certain it was directed towards him (he swore by the look in your eyes that it was, and even if he misinterpreted that, he prayed it was still true), Gregor had mouthed something in response.

He didn't say goodbye to you when the company and the association had gone their  ways, though he knew you wouldn't mind. You were far too nice to him for that.

"Geg? I'm hearing some banging, and not the good kind," Rodion spoke with a singsong voice, intruding into Gregor's room, unannounced and unwanted. It had changed again. "What's wrong?"

"...I said 'I love you.' He didn't even hear."

The taller Sinner sat by Gregor's bed, crossing her arms and sighing. "You'll just have to try again then, won't you?"

He opens his eyes slowly, sending her a glare, when her intentions finally hit him. He laughed and smothered the cigarette in his mouth in the ashtray to his right.

"Guess you're right."

[shadowqueenjude]

Tamlin angst part 8

@achaotichuman Mother is serving! TWs: suicide, angst, abuse, etc. He couldn't bear it any longer. As his sentries dropped like flies without any success, again and again, he snapped. There was no hope; this was useless. "Enough!" Tamlin shouted. "Enough of this. No more sentries will be dying." His voice broke. "Let's just...enjoy the years of peace we have left." He'll never forget the way Lucien looked at him in that moment, as if he had betrayed him in every way possible. "How can you do this, Tam?" Lucien demanded. "How can you give up? I believed in you- all these sentries do, or they wouldn't have gone to die for you." "And look how misplaced their faith was, Lucien. They're all dead, and all for nothing." Lucien bared his fangs at him. "I didn't take you for a quitter, Tam. I loved those sentries too, but sometimes an individual must be sacrificed for the sake of the family, a family for the sake of the village, a village for the sake of the province, and the whole earth for the sake of the soul." "Well maybe I am a quitter. Maybe I'm weak. Maybe I'm not cut out to be a ruler, because I can't bring myself to do it." "You're a fucking High Lord, Tam. Making tough decisions like this is your job. You can't afford to laze around and let Amarantha overrun us. Talk to me when you've come to your senses." Lucien held true to his word. He refused to speak to him properly when Tamlin refused to change his mind. He loved Lucien with all his heart, but how could he do this? How could he let them die for the sake of one foolish hope? "I did not fight so hard for my freedom to lose it all now," Lucien said, his Autumn Court fire blazing behind his eyes. "And if you don't start sending those sentries back past that border again, I'll venture there myself." Fear flooded through Tamlin. "You don't mean that." "You don't think so?" Lucien stalked towards him. "How. About. You. Watch. Me." He emphasized each word with a prod to his chest. If Tamlin's mind hadn't been so preoccupied with worry about Lucien venturing into the human realm, he might have contemplated how insanely turned on Lucien was making him feel. "I won't let you," Tamlin snarled. "As your High Lord, I fucking command it." Lucien laughed low, a sound that caressed Tamlin's bones. "Your High Lord command holds little sway over me now, shapeshifter, when Amarantha holds much of your power in the palm of her hand. You can try and hold onto me yourself, or have your remaining sentries prevent me from going, but mark my words, I will find a way. I made it here after all, remember?" And he felt it. Tamlin didn't even think Lucien realized it, but as a High Lord, Tamlin recognized it. The power. Even if Amarantha held most of it in her grasp, Lucien was growing more powerful every day Tamlin kept him. He, too, was a High Lord in the making. It would explain his brothers' desperation to kill him. "Fine," Tamlin choked out. "I will send them back past the border, but don't expect any of them to turn up with success." Lucien cut him a look. "If you give them enough chances, one of them is bound to strike gold, Tam. It's simple mathematics." As usual, Lucien was right. At last, Andras's death occurred, and it was not for nothing. When Tamlin's eyes fell upon the cold-hearted human girl, he prayed that all their sacrifices would finally mean something.

[kyluvsyi3w2]

I really hope there is a special place in hell for people who don’t respond to time sensitive emails and calls. The common courtesy that many people clearly lack is both aggravating and appalling. It takes mere minutes to respond to an email and just about the same amount of time to return a call. If I’m not worth taking a few minutes out of your day for, why I am I wasting days worrying about this bullshit? Hell, why do I care at all?!? You’re the only one who can fucking fix this and you clearly don’t care. Why then, should I? Because that’s part of my character. That’s part of my core values. That’s just who I am. Well, it’s bullshit! It’s all bullshit! They tell me I should just show up. But I think that’s the wrong answer. Wouldn’t a grown up wait? Wouldn’t a professional be patient? Then again I left four voicemails and sent two emails so maybe I’m the insane one. The truth is I’m not patient. The truth is I am crazy. The truth is I may be an adult but I’m sure as hell not a grown up. And neither are you? Because a grown up would’ve gotten back to me by now. You know what it really is, it’s the audacity. It’s the audacity of you to wave your authority over my head like a piece of candy in front of a diabetic. You need help. You need loyal employees. But then you let shit like this happen!? The math ain’t mathin’. You’re busy? Well the truth is I don’t care. I really fucking don’t! You’re in charge so fucking act like it. Create a work environment people want to come back to. Know that I’m not the one to fuck with. I’m really fucking not. Because not only do I care, but I’m stubborn. And I’m no quitter. Hell, I have trouble even changing my mind! So you fucked with the wrong person I can promise you that. You shouldn’t be in charge. Teachers shouldn’t be like this. The system shouldn’t be like this. I wish on every fucking star that you feel the pain I feel. The worry and the anxiety. I hope someone questions your character. I hope someone takes a stab at your reputation. And I hope to the God that doesn’t exist that they don’t miss. I hope you return my calls and/or my emails. I hope you wake up tomorrow and care. I hope I get the closure I need. I hope I get the resolution I deserve. But moreover, I hope I don’t have to deal with bullshit like this again. Or if I have to that it doesn’t hurt so bad. It doesn’t drive me so insane. It doesn’t feel like a personal attack on me and my integrity. I know there’s something wrong with me. Hell, I know there is a lot of things wrong with me. But this, this is all on you. I’ve done more than I should’ve ever had to do. It’s not fair. Life’s not fair. Fuck this and fuck you.

[definitely-not-a-wasp]

Hey remember when I posted this and then a bunch of shit happened in my life and I didn’t follow up?

Anyway, this is an incomplete list of things I don’t necessarily wish I had included, but definitely wish I had put more thought into doing or not doing.

Overarching, my biggest regret is being too precious with TAE, and being scared to break away from the canon of part 1 specifically. I was just starting my rewrite, I was insecure, so I didn’t want to change things. However, I feel I could have changed a lot of the beginning to make a story that felt more unique and suited to my writing style. A lot of these points are going to fall under this one, and while I probably wouldn't want to use all of these in the same story, I should have given these more consideration.

1: something I already know wouldn’t have been popular, but would have made it easier for me to write, I wish I had paired down the cast. This is coming from the person who already has cut a lot of minor characters, but I could have done more, and I dislike large casts, because then every person in that cast needs to have a character arc and that can get hard to handle. (I say while creating a villain squad, because I'm a hypocrite.)

2: Age changing. While I actually REALLY like writing the older three as fourteen-year-olds and all of the complications it brings, and wouldn't want to age them up because that's quitter talk, the part of my brain that cares about how the School runs its experiments will not let go how the younger three kids are three different ages, which means they were probably part of 3 different testing pools, so where the HELL did the others go? I think it would have been best for Max, Fang, and Iggy to form 1 group at fourteen, and then Gazzy and Angel to be twins at 8-9, and Nudge be the oldest little kid at 9-10— still separated enough that she can feel more mature and responsible compared to them, but that way it's reasonable to believe they were all part of the same group. Which leads me to my next point:

3: Getting Gazzy or Nudge kidnapped alongside Angel would have both better divided that cast during the first part and given them all something to do, and been a departure from canon to make the readers feel more tension, especially since I shifted the Institute's goal from 'kidnap specifically Angel bc her mind powers' to 'kidnap all of the younger generations for a lure to the older kids'.

I wish I had included more Introduction Stardew time because I am a weak individual. YES I think it would have made the story worse and YES I still wish I had spent more time in the Colorado mountains with the cottagecore flock. Because I like my Fun Whimsy Time.

When Iggy and Max got back to the flock I should have had the flock be in worse shape. I mostly wanted that arc to be over, but it definitely cheapened the moment— I had been keeping Max, Iggy, and readers in the dark, just for them to be okay in the end, mostly because I didn't want to deal with another conflict. Fuck that. I could have given Fang a blood infection or Gazzy and Nudge heat exhaustion or made finding them harder. Literally anything. What the fuck, Wasp.

More. Superpowers. I think I've developed a reputation for superpower hating, which is a badge I wear proudly, but let's face it, it makes Angel feel weird and disjointed compared to the rest of the flock. I could have easily given Nudge her psychometry from the beginning, given Gazzy a neurological power, and then it would have helped further establish a generational divide between the flock while not making Angel seem like a freaky freak.

Establishing the flock's birds coming from the same family, because while I love mixing my seabirds with my corvids with my falcons, it also PISSES ME THE FUCK OFF. This is a "can't have your cake and eat it too" moment, but I'm still mad.

Making the picking up of weapons more significant. This isn’t something I realized until I was writing book 2, but the fact that the older members of the flock were okay with having knives and such on them early-on makes it less significant when they pick up a weapon in the future, because it can no longer mark a shift from the character reacting to violence to accepting that it’s going to keep happening and they’re preparing to hurt people ahead of time.

Not taking this project so seriously. Like, Jesus Christ, I have actual things in my life to worry about. This is my fun little rewrite of funky bird kids. I have no business acting acting like I'm going to get shot if it doesn't win a Pulitzer. I need to chill the fuck out.

As someone who I think has gotten one of the furthest in a rewrite (at least on the ao3/tumblr community), would it be helpful to make a list of things I regret within the rewrite? Would that be helpful or interesting for you guys?

[activatingaggro]

Sipara is always so bold and headstrong! What kind of situations would make her crack underneath pressure? What kind of situation would make her stagnate and how far would she stay in a stagnated state before doing something about it? What would cause her to take a complete 180 on her current ideals?

So, defining thing about Sipara is the fact she likes to be in control of a situation. The majority of Pheres’s mistakes, she’s spent her adolescence mopping up, and now, as an adult, she’s found herself spending way too much time trying to mop up ID’s, and Hadean’s before that, because she handles her life and her emotions by always staying on top. If she isn’t handling things, she doesn’t know what the fuck to do, except panic!

And then she spirals, and then people start getting mauled, or she starts mauling herself in a mad race to get back in control. The worst thing you could do to Sipara would be to strip her of her agency, and then put her in a situation where she can’t win it back. Sipara’s good for big defining moments. If one of her quadrants died, she’d kill the person involved, and get over it. Because that’s her taking control of the situation: they died, but she still control the narrative, and “fix” it, in a way, by getting revenge.

If one of her quadrants died, and then the person involved died, so there was nothing she could do, and no way to seize the narrative - Sipara would shatter, unless someone else held her together.

She stagnates pretty easily! Sipara is not a person who grows easily, nor sees any need for it. ID shoved her in the forge and hammered her out into the person she is when he told her what helming was, and told her it was wrong. Since then, she’s had.. relatively little development. She was the same kid at four years old that she was at ten. She’s the same kid at thirteen that she is at nineteen, and the only difference is that she’s significantly more ruthless, and she’s more capable of emotionally handling the shit that gets heaped on her plate.

She doesn’t change easily, nor without severe consequences that force her to. ID traumatising the shit out of her and Pheres is what made her decide helming was wrong. Pheres ditching her twice over is what, ultimately, has made her decide she needs to shape up the way she treats people. Sipara makes her mind up very rapidly, and then sits on her conclusions up until the point she is actively forced to change them - not out of laziness, but just because she’s not the type of person who experiences doubts. She’s one hundred percent confidence, all the time, and that has very distinct drawbacks.

On changing her views: Sipara is very, very set on her convictions at this point in her life! She’s pretty much rock-solid on her morals and her obligations: if you got to her as a kid, and never had her encounter the IEP or any of the psionics in it, she’d be a copy of Daedal in that she just genuinely would not care beyond her clade. She was forced to care, and the conviction that she should - that everyone should - is basically the foundation of her moral beliefs as an adult. Getting her to do a 180 would require actually fucking breaking her.

Getting her to shift in smaller ways, as said above, just requires a harsh stick/carrot routine. She’s shifting her views on individuals! She’s getting more used to Kit, and is about to start the process of trying to actively befriend and mend her gap with her, despite her being cerulean and a mind-controller, because she doesn’t care about Kit, and her morals hold that Kit’s better off dead - but she does care about Pheres, and she’s willing to shove her anti-blueblood beliefs down because of that.

[wildbornsiren]

nsfw alphabet | b.b.

NSFW Alphabet B.B. author’s notes: I love this man. He’s filthy, and you can’t change my mind. Thank you all so much for the likes and reblogs. Makes me happy. 

what: a collection of not safe for work headcanons for one Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw. Gender neutral reader. 3,064 words. warning:  adult content. Do not read or interact with this post if you are under the age of 18. Explicit sexual content, frank discussion of adult themes. If you’re a minor move on. 

A: Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Rooster will go get you a glass of water and make sure you drink it. He checks in with you on an emotional level, making sure that everything he said and did was okay. Lingering, wandering touches as he gives slow kisses, or simply lays close to you. When movement is something that you can tolerate, he’ll help you to the shower or bath. He washes your hair and spends time washing your body. B: Body part (their favorite body part of theirs, and also their partner’s) Rooster is proud of his hands. They’re used to operate a fighter jet, bring a bar of strangers together in a song as he pounds the keys of a piano. They’re also the first thing that touches you. On a partner? He’s a leg man. More often than not he’s trying to figure out how to get between them. When you’re sitting together, his hand rests on your knee, or higher up on your thigh, fingers splayed on the inside. He likes to have you sit on his lap, keeping a grip on your hips, or wrapping his arms around your waist, hands resting on your thighs.

C: Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) When he’s with someone who is on birth control, he fucks you raw. He wants to fill you completely and keep you filthy and sloppy. When his cum slips out, he’ll gently push it back into your body. If birth control isn’t needed and you’ve both got a clean bill of health, it’s much of the same. Spitting is for quitters. Once you sent him a photo of the wet spot of his cum in your underwear a couple hours after a quickie. Minutes later, he sent you a video of him jerking himself off, desperate and whispering some of the filthiest things you’ve ever heard. D: Dirty (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) Dry humping is something that gets him going almost as much as the thought of having his mouth on your genitals. Since it was bit cool for a spring day the two of you to cancel plans for a hike and picnic. Instead, Rooster had sprawled out on the couch, ‘reading’ a magazine that had fallen onto his face, muffling his snoring. You’ve cleaned up the living room, face softening when you catch yourself watching him sleep. “You don’t have to stare you know.” His voice was low and rough, sleep heavy on his tone. He shifted on the couch, sitting up, discarding the magazine. He crooks his finger at you, beckoning you to him. “C’mere.” You drift closer, and he pulls you down onto his lap. You straddle one of his thighs, fingers brushing mussed curls from his face. “You needed that nap.” You didn’t miss the slight darkening of his eyes when you shifted your hips grinding against that solid warmth under you. “I can think of a few things I need.” He rumbles, mouth against your neck, one hand creeping under your shirt, palm skimming up your back. “Do something for me baby.” “Anything.” The warmth of his mouth, the scrape of his moustache against sensitive skin, and the way his hands, oh his hands map your body like he’s touching you for the first time all over again. “I wanna hear you.” He murmurs. Both hands make their way to your hips, encouraging the rocking motion you’ve started. The friction was delicious, building between your legs as you grind against his thigh. “And it’s my thigh or nothing, baby. I’m not helping you.” E: Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?) In general, he’s experienced. He likes sex, it’s a perfectly natural urge and he gets it as often as he can. If you’re having just a hook up, it’s good sex. He tries to read what you like and set a pace/rhythm that works for both of you. If you’re having sex on the regular? This is a man who remembers how to get you to moan, curl your toes and whimper nothing but nonsense and his name. He knows how to touch and kiss you and knows what to say to make you feel like you’re the only thing on his mind—because you are. F: Favorite position (this goes without saying) Sit on this man’s face. He will enthusiastically, without any want for reciprocity will make you cum over and over. You were hesitant at first, but he soothed your fears and waited until after to tease you that ‘if I died babe, I’d go happy’ Cowgirl: He wants to touch as much of you as he can. With you on top, his hands can wander, and he can watch you grind yourself on his cock. Missionary: It’s close, intimate. He can be all over you, overwhelm you with his scent, the power in his body. He loves it when your nails rake down his back, or you bite his shoulder. G: Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous?) He's playful when initiating sex. He’ll pepper your face and neck with kisses, sneak a couple gropes. He’s kind of the terrible dirty jokes. He has been known to send you terrible flirty messages during the day when he wants to let you know that you’re getting when he gets home. ‘I may not go down in history, but I'll go down on you.’ ‘Wanna go on an ate with me? I'll give you the D later.’ ‘Twinkle twinkle little star, Let's have sex inside my car.’

‘They call me Rooster, watch what this cock-a-do-to-you’

When it comes down to fucking, this man puts his whole self into it. Expect to fuck all night and be properly worn out and delightfully achy in the morning.

H: Hair (how well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes?) Rooster takes care of himself. He’s fit, clean and well groomed. Body hair is kept shaved or short because he’s got a lot of texture/wave.

I: Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect) Sex with Rooster is a playful experience. Even when you’re having anniversary sex or reuniting after he’s been gone. He wants to make his partner feel good and forget the world around them. The intimacy comes after. He holds you close, his hands will wander, mapping every inch of your skin. He’ll kiss freckles, scars, telling you exactly what he loves about you. He wraps himself around you, overwhelming you with his physicality. Rooster often falls asleep on top you, his head tucked against your shoulder or chest as you talk. J: Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Rooster jerks it often. It’s a way to blow off steam and scratch an itch if he can’t be with another person. He watches porn, often of the performer masturbating as well. He’ll match their pace and have himself a nice little mutual masturbation session. If watching porn isn’t an option, he’ll scroll though his phone and jerk it to photos and sext messages that you’ve exchanged. As a result of his inspiration, he strokes himself slow, letting the fantasy take over. It’s almost lazy, getting caught up more in his partner’s imagined response. He tries to keep quiet, but soft grunts and moans will let anyone who’s listening know -exactly- what he’s doing. If that’s not an option, he jerks it in the shower, and with that the volume filter is gone.

K: Kink (one or more of their kinks) Exhibition: He likes to show off what he can do to you. He’s also into the thrill of getting caught. Praise: This man has a praise and affirmation kink. All it takes is for you to tell him that you’re proud of him, or that he’s doing good and he’s hard and ready to go. Give him praise while you’re fucking? He loses his mind, and it is some of the best sex you’ve ever had. Dirty talk: ‘you’re my fuck toy’ ‘I’m going to ruin you for anything else’ ‘come on baby cum on my face, I want you to soak me’ “You’re so messy.” Breeding: He wants you full of him, and he likes knowing that he can fill you until it spills out around his cock. If he’s in an aggressive mood, he’ll often have you lay there after he’s rocked your world and watch it slowly leave your body.

L: Location (favorite places to do the do) Penetrative sex? Any flat surface that will hold your combined weight. He’s fond of fucking in the shower as well. Oral? Anything he can get you on, with your thighs as earmuffs. M: Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going?) A brilliant smile, sense of humor, sharp wit. Someone who can keep up with him mentally. He likes softness compared to what he’s surrounded himself with all day. He likes dirty talk/dirty messages. He has a high libido and wants to be on, in or under you any time, he’s deeply romantic and will want a partner who wants to be taken care of. N: No (something they won’t do/turn-offs) He doesn’t like restraints. He wants to touch and be touched. Sensory deprivation is another hard no. O: Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill) This man will eat you for hours. He loves going down on his partner and having them lose control. He uses his mouth and fingers, incredibly patient, and enthusiastic. He doesn’t care how sloppy it gets and wants you all over him. He’ll stop occasionally and bring himself up to kiss you on the mouth so you can know what you taste like to him. He takes pride in his head game, and it is possibly the best you’ve ever had. He likes fucking but would rather spend an afternoon wearing your thighs as sunglasses—one leg on either side of his face. Rooster enjoys receiving head, and that’s often how you spend your quickies. You on your knees, mouth wrapped around his cock, one of those hands in your hair as he moans uncontrollably. He comes quickly when you give him head so it’s a perfect way for you to get an urge sated. P: Pace (are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?) Aside from quickies, when Rooster takes you to bed, you’re there for a few hours—if not all night. He enjoys foreplay, taking it as a personal challenge to get you as wound up as he possibly can. You’ll be begging for more by the time his mouth gets to work. You’ll be sweat soaked, trembling, voice hoarse and needy, body aching when he slides into you. Q: Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often) Quickies are a necessity for being with Rooster. When he’s working, even when he’s at home there’s a chance he could be called away. You’re familiar with most bar bathrooms, the secluded hallways, locker rooms, cars, the beach… if he can get you away without either of you being missed, and you’re down to get it on, it’s on. The quality doesn’t suffer, it just means that you get more chances to get him on you, and all over you.

R: Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks?) Rooster has asked for a few things. You’ve fucked him at work, in a supply closet in a hangar, in the middle of the day when anyone could stumble upon the both of you. He will never do anything to get you into trouble and will protect you as best he can. It’s about the thrill of getting caught for him, not actually getting caught. You have had a threesome with him and another man. Everyone was enthusiastic, willing and very satisfied at the end of it. You and the other two will never speak of it again, but the song ‘Slow Ride’ never fails to make you blush.

S: Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?) Rooster can go all damn night. He’ll switch between oral and intercourse to allow yourselves to rest between rounds. When he’s stationed on base, you’re getting it on four to five times a week. Penetrative sex he lasts for twenty minutes, half an hour at the longest. When it comes to giving oral he's there until you’re tugging him up because you’re overstimulated and it’s just this side of being too much. He doesn’t last long when you suck him off and can quickly bounce back after he’s come for a second round or actual penetrative sex. T: Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?) He doesn’t have toys, he’s a porn guy. He’s up front about his porn habit and will watch it with you if the mood strikes you. He's not challenged or intimidated by your toys. He’ll use them if you need them to have a complete positive sexual experience and sees them as tools. If his partner needs a little extra, he reassures you that it’s fine. He wants to make you feel good. If you are open to toys, he likes plugs. He wants to fill you, keep you full and have you constantly aware that you’re full of him. U: Unfair (how much they like to tease) He doesn’t tease in the traditional sense. He’s very playful when it comes to intimacy. Occasionally you’ll get teasing dirty messages, or voice notes. Sex is an interactive experience, so he very much gives as much as he takes. V: Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make) Soft moans, groans. Low grunts when he’s pounding you into the mattress. W: Wild card (random headcanon for the character) “What’s in the oven? Smells good.” Rooster’s voice cut through your focus, and you looked up from the cake you were frosting. He’s in his flight suit, leaning in the doorway of the kitchen watching you. A glob of frosting slides off the knife, and he follows it with his gaze. “You’re not supposed to be home yet.” You offer a small smile. He had been called out on a three-day mission, low risk and he was home earlier than he had told you he would be. “Briefing didn’t take as long as it normally does.” He said, stepping into the kitchen and closing the distance between you. His touch is warm and light, one finger lifting your chin to kiss you softly on the mouth. “Again, what are you making? You taste delicious.” Your breath catches in your chest when he smiles, that slow wicked grin that makes his eyes crinkle. “Well, dinner is in the oven, and I’m attempting to frost this cake.” He grins again, soft kisses landing on your neck, his arms around your waist pulling you closer to him. “Do we have time to shower?” “You have time to shower.” You correct him, if you joined him in the shower, dinner would turn to ash, and you’ve spent way too long preparing the meal and calling his aunt for the recipe for the roast. “Please?” “No chance, Bradshaw.” You shake your head in the negative. “You shower, we eat dinner, talk like civilized adults, have cake and then you can take me to bed and wreck me.” He chuckled, the sound sending warmth pooling in your belly. “You always know what to say.” As he speaks, one hand reaches for the frosting bowl. You tap his hand with the spatula, and he draws it back. “That hurt.” “You’ll ruin your appetite.” “Not a chance of that darlin.” He winked, making another pass at the frosting and getting some on his index finger. He licked some of the frosting and grinned again. “This is good. Have you tried it?” He lifted his hand to you, offering the frosting.

Your hand closes around his wrist, fingers sliding along the back of his hand as you bring it closer to your mouth. You lift your gaze to meet those gorgeous eyes gazing down at you full of adoration. A darker emotion ekes in when your tongue darts out, licking some frosting from his fingertip. He breathes a little deeper, not breaking the eye contact as you take his finger into your mouth, sucking the frosting clean. You let go of his hand, watching as it takes him a few moments to engage his brain enough to lower it. “Go shower, it’s almost time to eat.”   X: X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) This man is built. He works hard to keep himself in shape, he lifts weights, eats properly, he likes to run and swim so his muscles are a bit leaner. Body hair is shaved or trimmed very close to his skin. He’s a little longer than average, with matching thickness. Y: Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) His favorite part of the day is going to work or sleep with your taste still on his tongue. He likes to have sex; he likes making his partner feel good. At home, he’s often just in a tank top and sweats for easy access. He’s got a high drive, and when he returns from duty or a long mission, you’re not leaving the house for a couple days. When you moved in together, you christened each room, nearly every piece of furniture and every car that you have ever driven. If you take him to visit your family, it’s doubly stressful because you know this man, if he can, will get you away from everyone and have you every chance he can get. Z: Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward.) It takes him a while to come down from the heightened emotions and physicality of fucking. He’ll sit up, completely comfortable in his body, playing with your hair as he talks your ear off. More often than not, you’ll need to remind him that he needs get up in a few hours to get up for work, or that -you- have a meeting in the morning. Eventually, he’ll lay down, he needs be touching you somehow as he drifts off to sleep. It could be anything from just his hand touching yours because it’s hot as balls in the house, or being a living, breathing, weighted blanket for you.

[nerves-nebula]

In your neglected au, what is Leo and Splinter’s relationship like?

Been having trouble articulating what the dynamic is like (since its still pretty new) so I made a handy “Pros and Cons of Being Splinters’ Favorite” list :) maybe this’ll answer some of your questions

Pros:

Affection from dad 

Compliments from dad

Lighter punishments when doing things wrong (none of the other turtles would only get screamed at for breaking Raphs arm, they’d prolly have stuff confiscated or be forced to do some kind of manual labor as a punishment) 

Insane superiority complex (I AM A GOD NO ONE IS AS GOOD AS ME)

Gets told stories/myths/family history the others are left out of (Leo was aware of Shredder & the foot clan a long time before the others were told about it)

Cons:

Being responsible for everyone else (if the group fails a mission, then LEO failed to lead them, and he won't be punished as hard but Splinter will either imply its his fault or make the others hate him more by saying they slowed Leo down or something)

Being ostracized from siblings who are mad they aren't treated as well

Splinter doesn’t actually understand Leo all that much. Rather, he projects onto Leo in a way where he implies he knows Leo better than Leo knows himself. This is kind of ROUGH and really fucks with Leo’s sense of self.

Seeing how the others are treated makes Leo constantly aware that his position is not inherent to being splinters child/son, and if he fucks up hard enough he might be replaced (terrified of failure/being treated like the others) 

Self esteem issues/need for approval

Insane superiority complex (IF ANYONE EVER SHOWS ME UP OR EMBARRASSES ME I’LL KILL EVERYONE IN THIS ROOM AND THEN MYSELF)

General other notes: Splinter sees a lot of himself in Leo when Leo starts excelling in their training early on. As they get older Splinter sees Leo more and more as an extension of himself in a really toxic no-boundaries kind of way. Obviously he doesn’t have any concept of boundaries regardless, but it’s especially bad with Leo since he actually tries to spend time with Leo.

SPEAKING of spending time with ppl: Splinter will occasionally have one on one training with Leo, which isn’t always even training, sometimes it’s just Splinter venting to his literal child. Splinter will sometimes do this with the other turtles too, but not nearly as much as he does it with Leo. Usually if he vents at his other kids it's just because they were around him at the wrong time or something. It’s even RARER for him to ask one of them to come speak to him, and half the time when he does that it’s because he’s trying to fix something about them he's noticed he doesnt like.

When leo does something wrong Splinter tells the others “You’re all brothers you need to stick together and love each other” and when anyone else fucks up he basically tells them “You are such a disappointment/I expected as much.” or some other negative thing. 

Splinter was not at all prepared to be a father and took the turtles from Draxum as more of a “fuck you for mutating me” than a desire to protect the innocent. He wasn’t sure how intelligent they were at first and kinda treated them like pets until it became clear that they were like. Actually Children. And by that point he’d become attached to them so he kept them. 

Leo hangs on Splinters every word in a way that the others haven’t since they were like, ten years old. He doesn’t believe the others when they say he’s being manipulated or when they complain about Splinter. Because to Leo, he’s winning because he’s trying harder than them.

To him, the others are just quitters and could probably earn dads favor if they stopped being such baBIES about everything. He takes to heart every cruel thing Splinter says about them and kind of believes that Splinter would change his mind if the others “got better” or something. Leo hasn’t yet realized that Splinter is just making up reasons to dislike the others after deciding they aren’t as good. Splinter probably hasn’t realized that either cause he thinks he’s a good person tho.

[eclvpses]

Feeling particularly giddy, Teddy scurried over once Red made an effort to make a space for Teddy beside him. Though the relationship between the two was newer than most of Teddy’s hook ups, he hadn’t found himself stumbling through boundaries or uncertainties like he did with others. As easy as scooching over on a set of stairs, Red seemed more than willing to allow Hurricane Teddy to come crashing into his life, and it hadn’t gone unnoticed. Teddy always noticed when people tried with him, had an incessant need to drink in as much attention and devotion as he could before they eventually grew weary and wanted to move onto the newer, shinier thing. But Red hadn’t grown weary or tired of him yet, and Teddy was far from sick of him - hence the enthusiasm, as he set down the shot glasses beside him as he got comfortable. “Moonshine. Fancy!” Continuing with his greeting as he spoke, Teddy leaned in close to press a kiss to Kohaku’s temple. A flash of intimacy before it was gone. Though he could wax poetic about how easily they’d fallen into each other’s lives, the novelty hadn’t worn off, and Teddy wanted to give Red room to breathe. Before he pulled a classic Teddy Lawrence and eventually proclaimed his love - probably mid romp, in the heat of the moment where oxytocin blinded him and clouded any judgement or rationality. “Fine - fuck my drag, I guess. Grand gestures are the thing of the past, is it?” With a quick tip of his head, Teddy downed the shot of tequila with surprising ease, before leaving the gin untouched. In case Kohaku changed his mind - gin had never been Teddy’s liquor of choice, anyway. “If I’m already vomming by midnight just put me down. I’ll have really lost all my touch, then - practically prepubescent level of tolerance. Mama didn’t raise no quitter.” A pause, as he reached across to pluck the cigarette from Red’s grasp so that he could take a pull himself. “Mama didn’t raise anyone, but that’s not the point. What’s up, why’re you out here all alone? It took me forever to find you… Your face isn’t looking like the face of someone who’s having fun. Or is happy. Or having even remotely a good time. You okay?”

Though it was still early, the party had waited for no one. Even from where he was sitting outside on the steps of the museum, he could hear the faint traces of music passing through walls like ghosts and the rambunctious chatter of those around him—in the foyer, on the balconies above him or in the gardens, an endless stream of words and whispers as if the world would cease if everything were to suddenly go quiet. Holding a flask in one hand, a cigarette in the other, with which Kohaku had pressed his palm against the cold marble, fingers splayed wide, he'd tried to see if he could feel the bass; it was a curiosity he had picked up from his deaf father that'd eventually become a habit to find out which material or objects made for good ears. But when the door opened, he brought his hand up to his mouth to suck on the end of the stick, glancing back over his shoulder even though there was no mistaking Teddy's voice for anyone else. “Ah,” Red sighed out, bringing his flask into Teddy's periphery, “moonshine, actually.” Kohaku scooted over on the steps to make room for the other. “Looks like you've been having fun. Don't make me hold your hair back over the toilet at midnight.” Though he couldn't help but smile at the sight, it wavered like a quivering lip until it eventually swirled into a stoic yet somehow sad expression.

[holylulusworld]

Daddy’s best friend (1)

Summary: You come home for summer. Bad timing. Not only does your father’s best friend occupy your room, but your father also has a new woman by his side.

Pairing: Ari Levinson x brat!Reader, implied FWB!Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Warnings: language, angst, bitchy woman, bratty reader, tension, implied age gap, nakedness, the reader is a bitch too, teasing, stubborn reader, I mention sexual acts but nothing happens

Divider by @firefly-graphics​

Daddy’s best friend masterlist

“Dad, I’m home,” you huff while struggling to carry one of your heavy suitcases inside the mansion. “DAD! ANYONE?!! I got like a hundred suitcases. Hey, I need help with my luggage. What’s going on?”

“Who are you?” a petite blonde walks toward you, swaying her hips. She wears a flimsy dress, revealing far too much-tanned skin. “How did you get inside?”

“I could ask you the same,” sizing the woman up you click your tongue. “DAD! One of your one-nighters is not the help I was asking for. Keep your bitches in line and away from me. That was the deal!!”

“Jesus, what’s going on here? Can a man not—” your father splutters as his eyes land on you and the heavy suitcase you drop to the floor. “Honeybunny, you are early.” He nervously clears his throat as the blonde waves her skinny fingers in front of your face to show you a diamond ring. “Oh, you already met Sunny, my fiancé.”

“Fiancé?” cocking your head you look at your father as if he lost his mind. “Do we marry our flings now, daddy? Really?” you huff and turn around to stomp toward the front door. “I can’t believe I turned Ransom down and agreed to spend my summer here, with you, and your newest conquest. What a waste of time and a fucking lot of good sex.”

“Drysdale is too old for you,” now your father wants to act like a parent. “I told you to stay away from him.” 

“And—” you twirl around to glare at your father, “I told you to not show off your whores when I’m around. Worse enough you made mom leave.”

“It wasn’t like that. You know that,” he argues.

“Well, you make me leave, daddy,” you changed your mind as the bitch dares to pat your father’s ass and shove her tongue down his throat right in front of you. “I’m not going to watch you and that bitch. Makes me want to throw up, and I don’t want to lose weight. I got the perfect body for my new swimsuit. I’ll simply call Ran and he’ll pick me up in half an hour. Have a nice summer.”

“Wait. Honeybunny, don’t go with that bastard. He’s no good for you,” he dares to judge your relationship with Ransom. Or rather your fuck buddy’s arrangement. “You can stay at the summer house.”

“I want to stay in my room, in my wing,” you retort as the blonde chuckles. She gives you a faked pout, making your stomach churn. “What’s your problem, bitch?”

“Uh—you see,” your father stammers. “I kinda offered your room and wing to my friend Ari. You remember Uncle Ari, right?” the look you throw at your father makes him choke on air. He never saw you so mad at him before.

“I can barely remember all of my friends, daddy,” clicking your tongue you debate to just leave and go on a trip with Ransom or fight the bitch sinking her teeth into your father’s flesh. 

Bad luck for blondie. You never were a quitter, and you won’t start now. So, you put on your sweetest pout and shed a few tears.

“You know friends are replaceable. Family is not. I think you forgot about me, and it hurts, dad,” you fake a sob, batting your wet eyelashes. “How about you enjoy your summer with your cheap Barbie imitate and Uncle Ari and I’ll fly to Greece with Ransom and have the time of my life.”

“Honeybunny, I didn’t know you would arrive this week,” your father wraps you in a hug and you hide your face in his chest, smirking darkly as he tries to soothe you. There is no way you will let blondie get her hands on your dad’s money. “You can have the summer house this week and next week, I’ll make sure you get your room back.”

“Fine, if you say so,” wiggling out of your father’s embrace you give him a sad smile. “I’ll be out of your hair for the next week. Enjoy your time with your fiancé. Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself. Always did since mom left.”

You don’t give your father the chance to say more. Instead of having a reunion with your father and spending some much-needed quality time with him, he prefers to drool over some chick.

If only he would find a nice woman his age and settle down. But no. Your father always goes for girls half his age.

“See you around, or not,” the bitch coos and you walk a little faster. You kick the suitcase down the stairs, slam the door shut behind you and turn to walk back toward your car.

“Whoa, what happened,” you squeak as you end up face-first in someone’s chest. “Hello. Now, that’s what I call a greeting.” 

His hands firmly grip your upper arms to help you steady your body. “Let go of me,” you snarl, not wanting the stranger to touch you.

“Hey, it’s me, pumpkin,” looking the man in front of you up and down you wonder if he’s the friend your father was talking about. “Ari. Ari Levinson. You used to beg me to take you for a ride on my bike.”

“Ari,” pinching the bridge of your nose you try to remember your father’s friend. “Wait! You didn’t have a beard and messy hair back then.”

“Guilty, pumpkin,” he flashes you a smirk. “You do remember me. Phew, I was worried you forgot about your favorite uncle.” 

Ari laughs as you eye him warily. His hair is much longer than back then. A thick beard frames his face, and he’s not in a fancy suit but jeans, a tee, and a bomber jacket. In other words, he looks like he lost his job and camps in your room for the time being.

“You’re not my uncle,” you retort, “only someone wanting to take advantage of my dad too. Just like that bitch.”

“Oh, you already met Sunny,” he laughs as you make a face and mumble slut under your breath. “I couldn’t agree more.” Ari watches you crouch down to pick up your suitcase. “Let me carry your luggage, Y/N.”

“I can handle my luggage, don’t you worry. My dad didn’t worry. He just let me walk out of my fucking home to spend his time with that woman. I flew thousands of miles, turned my fuck buddy down, only to end up at the summer house.”

“We can switch places,” he offers as you lift the suitcase, groaning as it’s too heavy. “Don’t be a brat and let me carry this.” Ari takes your suitcase out of your hands, easily lifting it. 

“I’ll stay at the summer house, period,” he smirks as you stalk back toward your car, muttering under your breath while Ari watches your ass in your shorts. “If dad doesn't want me around, fine.”

“He never said so, Y/N.”

“He didn’t have to tell me. Dad let me walk out of the house without trying to stop me. This speaks volumes,” you look into the trunk of your car. “If you are done with that one, I got like six more.”

“All for you, sweetness,” a deep rumble emits from his chest, and you bite your lower lip, remembering how he gave you driving lessons as your father was on a business trip. “Don’t be mad at your dad. I asked him to let me stay at his house while I’m looking for a new house.”

“Why?”

“Why what?” 

“Why do you look for a new house, Ari?”

“I got divorced a few months ago,” he shrugs as you inhale sharply.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to be nosy. Is that the reason you look so…”

“Hot? Carefree? Sexy?” he offers, flashing you a smirk that makes your knees buckle. “No. I quit my job some time ago to write and travel the world.”

“An extended vacation?” you watch his muscles flex as he turns to carry your suitcase toward the summer house.

“I followed aid organizations and tried to help as best as I can. It was a life-changing experience, Y/N. I felt like the tie around my neck was slowly but steadily suffocating me. When I decided to follow my friend Kabede, it was the best decision of my life.”

“Whoa, that sounds so…” feeling like a fool you glance at Ari. “That’s really cool of you, Ari.”

“Nah, I didn’t do much. Most of the time I drove a car or helped Kabede to distribute clothing and food,” you hastily opened the door to the large summer house your father-built years ago. “I was a selfish man most of my life. It was time for a change and to give something back.”

“It looks good on you—” he laughs as you follow him inside the summer house. “Just one more question.”

“Shoot me, pumpkin.”

“Why didn’t you stay at the summer house? We built it for guests.”

“Maybe I wanted to sleep in your bed,” he looks over his shoulder to flash you a dirty grin. “Or, I was looking for a pair of your panties…”

“What? I—”

“There you are, Ari bear,” Sunny makes you groan as her sugar-sweet voice cuts through the tension between you and Ari. “My baby wants you to come inside and have a look at the contract. Hurry.”

“I’ll be right there. Just let me help Y/N settle in,” Ari shoots your father’s fiancé an angry look. “Someone should help her.”

“No—she can handle herself,” again you groan as Sunny steps inside the summer house to place her hand onto Ari’s bicep. “She wants to be alone and think about a way to get more money from her daddy. But these times are over.”

“Oh, are you his bookkeeper now,” you stalk toward her and jab your index finger into his chest. “Do you believe you are making the rules here only as dad wants to fuck your ass for a while?”

“Sunny, just leave her be. Go back inside and tell Y/F/N I’ll be right there. Give us a minute here.”

“She needs to learn her place,” the bitch dares to say and you lose your shit.

You push against her shoulders, making her stumble back. “I think you must learn your place, honey. You are here to take dick and shut your cakehole,” you smirk darkly at her. “And just you know, I own almost as much money as my dad.”

“Sure—” she tries.

“You see, Sunny, honey…fuckhole bunny,” you sing-song while circling her like prey, “everything I buy I pay for, not daddy. My grandmother left me enough money to hire fifty killers to get rid of your bony ass and buy a fucking island at the same time. I suggest you shove your ass out of here before I find my phone.”

“Catfight,” Ari grunts, making you roll your eyes you point toward your car. “I bet my money on pumpkin.”

“Get my luggage Ari and leave this lovely lady to me,” Sunny hurriedly makes her way toward the door to leave you alone. She squeaks as you throw your shoe at her.

“I gotta say,” he snickers, “you’ve got a way with people.”

“Only with bitches and assholes wanting to take advantage of me or my family. Dad will come to his senses, eventually…”

“I don’t think you should act like that Y/F/N,” Ari sighs deeply as your father keeps on shoving food into his mouth. “Listen, I know your new girl is…well…special to you. But out there, at your summer house is your daughter. She’s a tough girl but hides she’s hurting poorly. You should talk to her.”

“She’ll come around, Ari. Did you hear what she said to Sunny?”

“I heard what your fiancé said to your daughter,” clearing his throat Ari glares at Sunny, “and I can tell, if she was a man I would’ve slapped her face. No woman should be allowed to talk to your flesh and blood like that. If you would excuse me now, I’m going for a swim.”

“I must say, that’s quite a sight,” you lazily stroll toward the pool to watch Ari jump into the pool. “How was dinner?”

“Why didn’t you come around?” he swims toward the poolside to look up at you. “I’ve missed you.”

“I wasn’t invited,” showing Ari the message you got from your father on your phone you chuckle darkly. “He chose that cunt over me. Can you believe this? I chose daddy over a grand-prime dick. Damnit. I could’ve been full of cock by now. Ransom always was a giver in the bedroom.”

“Ransom, huh?” his features darken as you drop the towel in your hands to place your phone on top of it. “Why not try a new dick. A better one.”

“Don’t tempt me, Mr. Levinson,” you crouch down to run your fingertips through his wet strands. “Maybe I jump into the pool and let you have your way with me…”

“I bet you are not brave enough to step out of that bikini and join me in the pool,” he purrs. “Just you know, I’m not wearing anything.” You get back up to look down at him.

“You’re a dangerous man, Mr. Levinson,” dipping your toe into the water you smirk at Ari. “I don’t think you can handle a woman like me.”

“Believe me, pumpkin,” he wraps his large hand around your ankle, “I can handle your bratty ass and your sweet cunt.” He licks his lips. “Just give me the chance to prove you wrong.”

“Fine—” Ari’s eyes widen as you unclasp your bikini top and drop it to the ground, kicking it into the pool. “I hope you know that I’m used to men making me cum.”

“Come inside and you’ll get all you want, Y/N,” he watches you shimmy out of your bikini bottoms, eyes glued to your exposed sex. “Yeah, that’s a sweet little cunt, just like I imagined.”

“And imagine,” you jump into the pool, giggling when Ari tries to grasp for you, “you’ll not get even close to touching it.”

“Oh, my little brat,” he closes the distance between you and him, arm snaking around your waistline to bring you close to his naked chest, “I’ll have this pussy wrapped around me sooner or later. I didn’t come here for no reason…”

>> Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[dangermousie]

Oooooof!

But also it’s such an interesting question to me - what if the person you loved lost literally every trait and characteristic you loved them for. They are the same person in the biological sense but are they really your loved one? My answer is probably not but I am way more of a quitter than DFQC. Even if this new Goddess person fell for DFQC (and I don’t think she’s capable of a feeling strong enough to be love towards anyone), is it even the same? I don’t think so. It would be like hooking up with an identical twin - nobody in their right mind would claim that is the same. Personality and tastes and our soul and heart make us who we are, if it’s all changed, then that’s a different person.

I do find it interesting that when we get little glimpses of Xi Yun as a kid, she is laughing and playing and warm and has feelings, not this calm iceberg. Which really does lend itself to the thought that Goddess is not a complete person in any way, but more of a fragment of a persona.

PS Just shuck the fuck up, CH!

Well, you stay here and bother me and I am not saying anything so shut it, CH!

Honestly, I am this close to just wishing CH happiness with his zombie wife and rooting for the eternal OTP of DFQC x murder. Except CH doesn’t like the zombie either so maybe the boys could just run off together?

[thesmokingguns]

Off To the Races

Pairing: Nikki Sixx!Douglas Booth

Request: Off To The Races by Lana Del Rey

Summary: You are my one true love. She is there for him at all of his worst moments. Coaxing him through his high, making him smile and laugh. She’s at parties dancing with her red smile calling for him. She’s swimming in the pool when he’s drunk and stoned. She’s there through it all. No ones loved Nikki like her. All consuming. His only thought. She is his entire world. And his works is crumbling.

Warning: Heavy themes of drug use, drug induced hallucinations, alcohol abuse, suicidal thoughts.

Word Count: 2270

Taglist: @littlemisscare-all​​​​​ @ayablackwood​​​​​ @agroupiewhore@thenobodies-inc​​​​​ @dannasixxworld​​​​ @val-sixx​​​​@nikkisqueenofsleaze​​​​ @rocknrollsoul76​ @aggressive-slytherin​

My old man is a bad man, but

I can't deny the way he holds my hand

And he grabs me, he has me by my heart

He doesn't mind I have a Las Vegas past

He doesn't mind I have a L.A. crass way about me

He loves me, with every beat of his cocaine heart

My eyes are heavy, fingers twisting the belt around my arm to loosen the pressure. The needle drops to the floor, the carpet holding any sound in. Blinking, looking around the cramped closet I see my journal, my revolver, and more smack for after this dosage.

What a life.

My head rolls back smacking the wood paneling with a dull thud that vibrates through me. My hands shaking, waves of fingers in front of me. There’s a bit of blood coming from the injection pin prick in my arm and I’m find myself stumbling to my feet, sweeping the gun off the floor and tucking it in the waistband of my jeans as I head to the bathroom.

It’s washing over me, the feeling I’m always chasing. The fleeting moment of happiness is like a warm blanket wrapping itself around me.

The giggle stops me in my tracks, eyes searching the hallway searching for her. I thought she had left after our last fight. She called me a quitter and was mad I was giving up my partying ways. She loved to have a good time and she thought I was giving up on her.

Guess she was wrong.

The flash of brown hair catches my attention and I’m stumbling, laughing as I chase her through the house. Her laughter was infectious and made me forget about the blood dripping down my forearm.

In the kitchen she turns, giving me that megawatt smile that felt like my heart was feeling something other than the melancholy that usually filled it. She stops and lets me catch her, letting me wrap my arms around her holding her close to me. Smelling the exotic sweetness of her hair as she engulfs me with her golden skin, bangles tinkling down her arms like a musical number.

Safe and warm, happiness and euphoria of her presence with me here. The place that was my Mecca of solitude. Pulling back, confused for a second I try to think about how she got here.

“How did you get in?” As if she senses the confusion in my voice she kisses me, giving me no doubt she is here with me. Warm and solitude against my skin, fire in my veins.

“You let me in.” She purred, letting her mouth kiss along my jawline. Soft hot breath tickling me as she pressed against me, bumping the gun as she rolled her body against mine. “It looks like you’re locked and loaded, ready to go.” Her hands in my hair as she’s touching parts of me I forgot existed.

God I missed this.

Swimmin' pool glimmerin', darling

White bikini off with my red nail polish

Watch me in the swimmin' pool, bright blue ripples

You sittin', sippin' on your Black Cristal, oh yeah

Light of my life, fire of my loins

Be a good baby, do what I want

Light of my life, fire of my loin

I wake up with a gasp.

What time is it? What day is it? Where am I?

Looking around, frantic panic as I realize I’m asleep in the lawn chair by the pool. An empty bottle of Jack Daniels is smashed beside me, glass decorating the concrete in sharp glares of warning.

The sound of a splash throws me off and there she is. Her brown hair wet as she rests her elbows outside the pool, placing her head in her hands with that gleaming smile.

“Well hello sleepyhead. Did you have good dreams?” I don’t know if she’s asking out of kindness or mocking me. I’m drenched in sweat, possibly from falling asleep in the LA afternoon but most likely from the night terrors that always haunt me.

I dreamt I was running. From who or from what was the issue. Everything in my brain was foggy. My eyes snapped up at the setting sun. Has it been a full day already? Was it longer?

The phone rang from inside the house and I knew it must be someone from the band calling or my drug dealer. One of those felt more important than the other and I wasn’t ready to admit which one that was.

I got up, swearing as a piece of glass cut open my door, glaring as she giggle and dipped under the water. A trail of blood followed me into the house as I picked up the phone.

“Hello.” My voice felt gruff and it hurt to talk, like I hadn’t used it in a while. My head was killing me and I felt ready to throw up.

What the fuck had I been doing?

“Jesus Nikki, we’ve been trying to reach you for a week.” A week? I had lost hours, maybe a day here and there but a whole week. Jesus Christ. “Are you okay man? Why don’t you come out tonight with us?” Tommy was begging me and I sighed.

I was embarrassed. I didn’t want everyone to see me when I had been on a bender. I hadn’t seen what I looked like yet but I was sure that it was like hell.

“I don’t know, T-Bone. I think I have the flu or something. I just don’t feel great.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.

Something fluttered beside me and there she was. A white dress on her thin frame. How had she dried off and changed so quickly? Was I loosing more time? Eyes shining as she held out a silver platter of white powder. She loved to party and must have known that my band would want to see me out. At least if I was doing coke with them they didn’t have to worry about finding me dead.

“Where are you going to be?” I relented, watching her twirl. The energy coming off her was exhilarating and I wanted to join her in the ever present state of delight.

My nose was down against the lines, snorting messily, my brain burning, eyes widening as I sniffed a few times to get the whole lot out of my nose. Wiping and then turning to her.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and ready to go out on the town.” She was leading me to the bathroom. My blood rushing everywhere as I was alive and awake and fucking ready to party.

I need you to come here and save me

I'm your little scarlet, starlet, singin' in the garden

Kiss me on my open mouth

Ready for you

Why had I agreed to go to a club?

In the booth we had a mess of drugs, pills and coke scattered on the table like appetizers. Bottles of booze and half empty beer bottles added to the maze of debauchery.

How long have I been here?

I couldn’t remember driving or even getting to the club. All I could remember was hands all over me in the shower, washing the filth off myself. The gentle voice reminded me to wear long sleeves to hide my track marks.

My eyes searched for her. In the sea of women I was sure she would stand out. But all the flashing lights and the noise was confusing me.

The room was spinning, the conversation around me overwhelming me and I could feel Tommy’s hand on my back. My head rolled back, the club's lightning needed to be updated.

A hand was smacking my face and I saw Tommy, wide eyed, looking at me before I turned to the table, throwing up the only thing I had in my body. Brown liquid shot out, mixed with the acid in the stomach. It didn’t stop for what felt like a full minute.

When I finished, puke leaking down in steady droplets to the floor I grabbed a beer tang I had missed and chugged the foamy substance down. I tried not to make eye contact with the people giving us disgusting sneers.

“Oh baby, why don’t you let me take you home? Let me take care of you.” Her hands wrapped around me and I turned, nodding. Confused looks from everyone as I climbed out, reaching for her to take me back into the safety of her arms.

Light of his life, fire of his loins

Keep me forever, tell me you own me

Light of your life, fire of your loins

Her fingers were in my hair as I laid on her lap. The fire from my lighter hitting my pipe as I inhaled and exhaled the sweet delight.

Freebasing in my closet. But at least I wasn’t alone. I had her with me and that changed my usual mood of wanting to slit my wrists or press the gun against my head and pulling the trigger. Painting the inside of my closet with bits of skull fragments and blood-

“Come back to me.” Her voice was lulling me out of the dark place, pressing against my temples and using the magic of her voice to help me. She was the only one that was always there for me. Always making me feel better and dragging me from the pain of my life. Holding me in her arms, compassion and understanding.

She never judged me.

“Have we been here long?” She knew I liked to keep my responsibilities. I wanted to keep my appearance as the rockstar. I couldn’t let anyone know how bad that it had gotten. How I couldn’t stop. How doing drugs was the best part of my life. My one true love.

Except her. She was the one thing I loved more than drugs.

“You have band practice in a few hours.” She reminded me. Her voice was steady and calm, fingers running through my hair and keeping me calm as I took another hit.

I just needed a little more time before I could see anyone. Just a little more time in the closet with her holding me before going out into the world.

“Nikki, don’t let them tell you to give me up. I love you Nikki. Aren’t I the only one who has always been there for you? No one else cares for you like I do. They see you as a rockstar or as a junkie. But I see you. I see you.” Her words promised and I nodded my head, agreeing with her words. She was still so calm, even with the edge to her voice. The words stuck with me.

She saw me and I saw her too.

I'm sorry that I'm misbehaving

I'm your little harlot, starlet, Queen of Coney Island

Raisin' hell all over town

Sorry 'bout it

I didn’t want to go to band practice. I didn’t want them to see my shaking hands or ask my stupid fucking questions that didn’t matter.

At least she had agreed to go with me. Her brown hair wrapped in one of those silky driving scarfs like the 1960s, big sunglasses to hide the hangover in her eyes that she was surely feeling after we had partied. Her hand was on his lap, keeping him steady as he drove to the practice space.

Walking inside, I hide my eyes behind big sunglasses, I could feel the sweat glistening like a second skin on my body. Anxiety crippling me as I licked my lips wanting to get back to my house.

My eyes followed her, watching her move around the instruments shooting me a smile as she ran her hands down my bass. I couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“Yo, Nikki, are you okay?” Tommy’s voice made me turn away from her nodding as I sat down hard on the couch. I had never brought a girl to practice before so I was sure they were surprised to see her. To see me so happy with someone.

“Come here.” I held my arms open, watching her smile as she bounced towards me twisting around the guys as they watched me. The brunette plopped down on my lap and I held her close looking out at them.

“What are you playing at?” Vince asked, the confusion was written across his face and I felt angry. Vince had been parading chicks through band practice for years. And now he was acting like this? Fucking asshole.

“Cmon, show her some respect, dicks.” She was shifting in my arms holding onto me and purring sweet words in my ears, my eyes closing and only coming awake when Vince kicked my shin.

“Show who respect?” My eyes went up to look at her but she was glaring at them. Her eyes were on fire as if she was protecting me from the band.

“Nikki, we should go. Let’s go home and I’ll take care of you. You don’t need this. I don’t need this. This was a bad idea, Nikki. A very bad idea.” She was getting up tugging at me to leave.

“My girl.” I was standing gesturing at her beside me, watching the way her dark eyes were slits now. Anger so clear as she tried to wrap herself around me and get me away from them.

They sat there, no one saying a word as they looked at each other and than a me. I turned to look at her, panic was there as she stepped forward touching my face, my eyes closing at the sweet caresses from her fingers. My skin feeling alive like bristling fire under her touch

“It’s me and you Nikki. Don’t forget how I love you. I love you always. No judgement. No-“

“Nikki, no ones there.” Tommy’s voice came out soft and I turned to look from her to him, feeling the slender hand slip out of mine. I went to tell her to wait but she was gone.

Whirling around I saw it was just the band in the space, no mystery brunette anywhere in sight. I collapsed on the couch gripping my hair as my teeth gnashed together.

This was the furthest it had come. The lowest point of my drug addiction. In my loneliness I had created a woman out of heroin. Someone to make me feel less alone when I shot up.

I created love through a needle and that was when I knew I needed to stop if I ever wanted to love anything again.

I'm not afraid to say that I'd die without him

Who else is gonna put up with me this way?

I need you, I breathe you, I'll never leave you!

[tauforged]

yknow i’ve seen a lot of posts about how gacha / lootbox systems in games are predatory and you shouldn’t spend money on them (which is correct!) but as someone who’s genuinely struggled with these things for a long time i wanted to give my two cents because i don’t think i’ve seen it said rhis way before:

when you stop playing the game in question, it does not mean that all your time and money was ‘wasted’. this is something i ran into every time i realized i’d fallen into the cycle with a different game and had to bargain with myself over.

“ugh, i’ve done it again. i spent 100$ on fucking dragonvale currency in a single weekend (true story. not my proudest moment). i’m not even having fun anymore, i should just delete the game.”

“but if you delete the game, then you have nothing to show for that 100$!”

you will have that thought. don’t listen to it. spending half your paycheck without even realizing it and then stopping and deleting the game is not inherently ‘worse’ than spending half your paycheck and then continuing to play the game because half your paycheck is in it. it just means that you’ve realized it’s not worth it, and stopped before you spent any more. that’s good. that’s progress. it doesn’t make you a quitter, it’s not a moral failing, it just means you’re working to improve on the situation. there is no ‘point of no return’ where you can’t change your mind and decide you don’t want to throw money at a jpeg anymore