#oops this is unedited

[dollyfetti]

“i can do the alphabet in sign language!” eri chirps to you one night, tugging at the bottom of your skirt as she gazes up at you with that sparkle in her eyes she gets when she's about to show you something important.

the city hums softly outside your window. cars in the distance, someone’s dog barking, the occasional clink of a bottle hitting pavement. you’re curled on the couch with your legs tucked beneath you, fingers grazing the hem of the throw blanket, and eri’s settled close, knees bumping yours, her face lit by the soft blue flicker of the tv screen.

your mouth parts into a soft gasp, eyes going round with surprise, delight catching in your throat. “that’s so cool!” you grin, reaching for her instinctively, brushing a hand through her snowy hair. “you should show suki, he’d really like it.”

she nods, mouth stretched into a proud little beam, her arms winding around your leg in a hug, like she wants to melt into your side and stay there forever. “okay! where is he?”

you glance up, eyes flicking toward the hallway without much thought.

“i dunno,” you hum. “i think he’s getting your bedsheets.”

“i’m gonna go find him!” she cheers, letting go of you and running off without another word, small feet padding down the hallway before you can call out a reminder. to be gentle and cautious.

you sink back into the couch with a quiet wince, already imagining the startle that’s coming. katsuki doesn’t wear his hearing aids at home. he says they make him feel alienated, like he’s underwater in his own home. says he prefers the quiet, even when it means he misses footsteps behind him.

down the hall, eri’s palm skims the wall as she turns the corner.

“suki?” she calls out, forgetting he can't hear her.

she finds him with his back to the room, broad shoulders blocking the light from the closet as he reaches for the folded sheets on the top shelf.

she slowly steps over to his spot, tapping his bulgy arm and looking up at him with pride. he jumps, and almost blasts whatever it is coming near him. he knows it's not you, you make sure to knock on the wall or anything just to make yourself known before getting close to him.

it’s not dramatic, not loud, just a sharp inhale as his muscles twitch beneath his skin, the sheets nearly slipping from his hands, turning his head to look down at her in surprise.

“you scared me,” he mutters, voice low, words shaped more from breath than sound.

eri just grins up at him, undeterred. she lifts her right hand, fingers curling and tucking until they make a neat little H. katsuki raises a brow, the closet door creaking as it swings shut behind him.

immediately after, she forms an I with a soft grin

then she follows it with an I, fingers small and steady, her eyes never leaving his. her smile is proud. soft. expectant.

the moment reached him slower than it should have, but she keeps going.

her fingers move carefully, like she’s practiced this a hundred times in her room, mouthing the letters silently as she went. she starts spelling out the alphabet, grinning with pride.

by the time she gets to K, katsuki's kneeling, bringing himself to her level as he sits on his heels so they’re eye to eye. his expression softens in a way only a handful of people ever get to see.

his hand rises— not to stop her, not to fix her hands, not to take over. just to mirror her. to do it with her.

his lips are twitching, not into a smile yet, but close enough. something fond, folded under layers of gruffness and disbelief.

“you learn all that just for me?” he asks, low and rough.

eri nods, both hands flying up now, fingers tangling as she shows him N, then O, like she doesn’t want to waste time answering him out loud.

katsuki exhales like he’s been holding it in since she tapped him, then reaches forward and cups the back of her head gently, thumb brushing through her hair.

“your hair needs to be brushed." he murmurs, like he's trying to escape from the feeling inside of him. he's not even sure what it is, it just feels nice. to have her, this little girl, learn a language for him.

he reaches for the fallen sheets with a smile, a real smile. the kind that pushes up into his eyes and softens all the hard lines around his mouth.

[darlingdream1010]

Dpxdc

Danny looked around the tiny flat that had cost him half his precious paycheck. Stained walls. Creaking floorboards. Only halfway functional fridge.

“Dani…”

“Don’t say it, I know what you’re thinking,” his younger ghost sister/clone/cousin/hellspawn said smugly. “It’s perfect. I get it, I thought the same thing when I moved here, and it only gets better.”

“Somehow I feel like it doesn’t,” he mumbled, swinging the microwave open and being blasted with a terrible pungent smell.

-

“This is where I get my cheap entertainment, since I can’t afford a TV.”

Danny looked on as a homeless-looking person in a weird costume with bright colors fought against a person in a leather jacket and a red helmet. Dani took this in stride, popping a potato chip into her mouth and waving.

“Looking shabby, Hood!”

“Fuck off, shrimp!” ‘Hood’ didn’t even glance over at them, just yelling as they fought.

She shrugged at Danny. “See? We’re chill.”

“…uh-huh.”

-

The next place Dani took him was a flight away, and much more welcoming.

Too welcoming.

“Dani? Is that you?” A male voice called out. It came from behind the rusty door they stood in front of. Danny glanced at the girl, who he assumed was the one being called.

“Hey, Dick,” Dani responded in an uncharacteristically soft voice.

Danny wondered if she had grown closer to this person, maybe opened up to them a little bit. They seemed to think so, bounding out the door with a softly concerned expression. Instinctively, Danny turns invisible.

“Um, is it okay if I have dinner with you tonight?” Dani asks, wringing her wrists in a way Danny knew was unnatural for her.

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but Dick thought nothing of it.

“Of course Dani, you know you’re welcome anytime.” Dick let her in eagerly, and Dani scurried in shamelessly.

He gaped after her. Is she…? Danny shook himself. Dani did things differently, he shouldn’t be so judgmental. He examined the man in front of him, instead.

Tan skin and shaggy, black hair. A friendly smile that was practiced to perfection, but not fake. Danny followed him and Dani tentatively.

He waited in the corner of the plain safe house, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it didn’t. Dani ate dinner, smiled, hugged him, and left.

“You’re taking advantage of him.”

“He’s offering these services specifically for people like me.”

Danny frowned, but he decided to accept it for now.

-

Danny tugged at his stuffy collar. “Why am I even here?”

Dani grinned up at him and handed over another hors d’oeuvre. Danny accepted it graciously. Taking from a friendly man feeding people in need, he was iffy on. Stealing from tech billionaires, he was competitively involved in.

“Vlad gets a lot of invitations to these galas, so I started giving them a new address to send them to. These,” Dani held up the bite-sized food,” are the highlight. That, and people watching.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “I don’t see how a bunch of uptight men are entertaining to—“

A sudden crash, bang, and thunk provided an unexpected view of the city.

Gasps and pearl clutching ensued, yet Danny noticed the man who had organized the gala, Bruce Wayne, was escaping in the smoke.

Dani followed his gaze. “Follow them. That’s where the real juicy secrets are at.”

He did as she said, slipping into the smoke and trailing them to a nook. There, Bruce Wayne and his adopted kin paused and began ripping off their suits…

What?

…and into another, much more familiar suit.

What the fu…

[overtake]

Save a Horse | 11,425 words

divorced dosh, endgame maxiel, but they have a threesome about it first (there is about 7k of plot, but you can just skip to the end if you're here for the moshiel threesome of it all)

It's a good hour. The best hour, maybe. Daniel doesn’t bother paying the slightest attention to the lessons. He’s too busy telling Max elaborate, fake backstories about each of the horses. They’re halfway through a really bad bit about Olympic horse diving when a throat clears in front of them. “The lesson ended ten minutes ago, so I thought you might like your daughter back,” Josh says drily, but he’s clearly fighting back a knowing smirk. Max and Daniel are sitting thigh-to-thigh on the bench, knees knocking together every time Daniel does the loud laugh that pulls his handsome nose up into a minuscule crinkle. Their faces are closer together than is strictly necessary. Max could probably count every individual eyelash framing Daniel’s warm brown eyes. “Sorry,” Max says, reluctantly pulling back. Josh offers Max his hand and tugs him up like Max weighs nothing, biceps flexing the whole way. He lets his hand linger the same way he did with their handshake: short enough for plausible deniability, but long enough to make Max wonder.

[whatever-the-fuck-i-dont-care]

I love Suguru Geto.

Suguru loves to fuck you in the doggy style position. He would have his long hair down, swaying back and forth with each one of his incredibly powerful thrusts. While he had your hair pulled back and wrapped around his left fist he's holding your body close to his while his right hand bares down on the bed to keep you both upright.

Suguru would tighten his fist pulling your hair so that you have no other place to look other than up into his eyes. The lovestruck look he gives you makes your heart do flips and makes your cunt tighten around him. He would softly moan at the reaction you gave, feeling you tighten again at his vocalization.

Suguru would release your hair and allow your body to fall into the bed, still inside of you his thrusts wouldn't falter at all. In fact they would only become harder and more defined. With your chest pushed into the plush blankets that line his bed you can feel him reaching for something above you.

Suguru would wrap his arm around your middle and with precision, find your neglected clit almost immediately. The soft, slow, gentle motions back and forth on your clit compared to the rough, calculated, assault on your g-spot brings you to the edge of orgasm quicker than you imagined.

But Suguru knew, he casually pressed record on his phone that he must have reached for earlier and set it to where the camera was facing you dead on. Your head is smashed into the pillows but your noises could probably be heard from the apartment next door.

Suguru's next actions are more calculated than you can comprehend, as he wraps his long fingers around the bottom of your chin he pulls your face out from the shadows. You make eye contact with yourself in the camera and suddenly you feel even more lustful than before. Behind you, you see Suguru's toned body and long hair swaying back and forth, the upper part of his face isn't showing but you can see him biting his lip behind you and you feel his cock pulse inside of you.

Suguru's fingers that had wrapped around your face are now entering into your mouth as his thrusts become slower and the fingers massaging your clit become more rough. You can feel your toes curling and your eyes begin to close. Suguru encourages you to suck on his fingers while you wait for his permission to come.

With three of his fingers taking up all the room possible in your mouth Suguru drops his head to whisper into your ear. "Do you wanna come baby?" His voice is like liquid silk, washing over your body. You whine around his fingers, softly biting on them to signal to him that's exactly what you want.

The short chuckle that Suguru releases doesn't go unnoticed by you, but you're quick to forget about it when he suddenly removes his fingers from your mouth. Slimy fingers now holding your face forward so that you have no choice but to look into the camera. Again you can see Suguru's body behind you and you can see him start to lean into you.

"I want you to thank Satoru for letting you come, can you do that baby?" Suguru's eyes find yours on the screen and he can tell that was the final push you needed. Your eyes cross before they squeeze shut, a small whimper leaves your lips in a hurry.

"S-Satoru, thank you-u letting me coOme" your voice is uneven and loud as you squeeze around Suguru. His hands find home on your hips as he thrusts through your orgasm. Suguru getting a similar type of euphoria hearing you moan his best friend's name in his bedroom.

Leaning over and pausing the video, he pulls out and watches his come drip out of you in small trails. He reaches over to pick his phone and is quick to send the video to Satoru. Your body is still limp on the bed when you hear a small bell noise coming from your boyfriend's phone. His hand slowly starts to run over your ass cheek as he laughs while reading a text he just got.

"Stay just like that baby, Satoru will be right over." Suguru leans down to kiss you on the ass cheek and in the matter of minutes you're faced with Satoru and Suguru walking into the bedroom together.

[ksbbb]

Fuck it Friday

Tagged by @hemlocksandfoxgloves

Paint the Town Red🩸

“He’s angry. Has a bit of a temper.” Nolan comments, trying to sound helpful and giving as much insight as he can.

“He’s a werewolf though?” Theo sounds so damn ridiculous. He has to ask but he hates appearing like he’s clueless.

“He wasn’t a werewolf then. I can only imagine he’s a new type of monster.” Mason retorts, the pain in his eyes evident, and——-ah. There it is.

Mason misses his little childhood friend.

“He’s quite an interesting guy.” Theo smirks, happy to be gaining some progress with them and loving the details they’re divulging.

“I don’t know what you’re planning, but save it. You’ll only be beaten by Scott again.” Mason ruefully smiles, and he slams the door, locking it behind him.

Theo’s not planning anything this time. He’s bored and he needs the leg up to get some quiet. Even with nothing planned, he’s still always watching his back, fearing the worst, and waiting to be sent back to hell.

It’s fine. Not really, but maybe it never was, because when he turns to head back to his truck, Liam’s in it. He’s staring back at him and calmly licking his lips.

Tagging @wolfboy88 @thiamsxbitch @mmoosen @maplesyrizzup @honestlydarkprincess @theoceanismyinkwell @chasing-chimeras

[astrobei]

been working on exes fic again

[leota-nexus]

The funniest* part is that I know I have this problem, I've been trying to ease up for years! I just keep accidentally taking Where's Waldo style shots because of my own creative instincts or whatever lmao 🤷‍♂️🤷‍♀️

So! Let's play a game of Spot The V!

I have to pause & laugh, hold on, I'm so confused because I keep coming across shots that even I thought were just landscapes until zooming in but then still going, "No, surely that's Too Easy??" So round 2, is V obvious or hidden here? (I legitimately can't tell anymore!)

*actually, I take it back. The FUNNIEST part of it all is that I've absolutely been taking landscape vp this entire time but I've never posted a single shot to this account. Been wanting to change that, haven't gotten around to it, but I guess maybe I have been this whole time?? Just with an itty bitty little hidden V hanging out somewhere waiting to say hi if you notice them ♡

[jamespottersmixtape]

guys oh no my finger slipped🫣

[ehlnofay]

19! :)

19: sea change

In the last few days of the year 200, Torr kills the Emperor. In early 201, a war breaks out.

It’s not wholly unexpected, at least not by those who know where to look. The Emperor’s death is no small blow to Solitude, the city that sent him off on a voyage he would only exit under a pall; especially considering that the guard had patted itself on the back for successfully foiling an assassination attempt right before his ship left, only for his throat to be slit under their noses, anyway. The head of Skyrim’s Penitus Oculatus appears to have vanished. No-one reports seeing anyone out of place on the boat until they started stumbling over the bodies. The Empire mourns through all the official avenues as the heir prepares for succession; Solitude’s government is busy trying desperately to smooth it over, putting out excessive bounties on the assassin that failed and scraping up intel on the one who succeeded. Not that there’s anything much to find – it’s a locked-room murder, and every logical suspect has an alibi that holds up to interrogation. There are no leads to follow.

And Windhelm is a powder keg.

It always has been, ever since the Great War, as long as Torr or any of his kids have been alive. Short-fused and disillusioned, crowds moving hot as blood through its winding stone streets, it’s always been something tough, hard-throated, splintered into careful lined sections. Torr walks whatever lines he wants, but not everyone has the energy to straddle them; not everyone can.  The upper city is all harsh-cut stone and ice, the bricks ancient, the crowds in a hurry, even though none of them seem to know where they’re going; the Grey Quarter is where the snow runs when it turns to slush and the walls are stuffed with rags. The planks keep snapping with dry rot, sharp and gaping as broken teeth. They need to be filled to keep the cold out. The Cornerclub keeps the fire roaring. Talres goes there to work most days and doesn’t come back up to the house until the streets are empty. No-one knows it’s going to happen, not exactly, but there's no way anyone couldn't know. There are a lot of people who have been waiting on an opening, and all eyes are pointed elsewhere.

With little fanfare, the Jarl and his entourage leave Windhelm.

The city stops being a fuse and starts being the wreckage after it’s blown. Torr is told that there’s a span of a few weeks where Talres stops leaving the house completely. Katla gets arrested again and weasels out of it on her own. The ill-drawn posters of something approaching Torr’s face stuck up over the walls of Solitude are covered up with announcements and calls to join the Legion. Windhelm floods with bodies ready for the rebellion. Aventus’ house is already crowded; in a few months, Torr hears, it’s nigh impossible to walk in for the bedrolls and blankets spread over the floor. The city has never been a warm place in any sense of the word; Torr’s siblings are inundated with more kids and more kids with nowhere else to go. They don’t know if Solitude is much better; they look different now than they did on the night of the assassination that wasn’t and then was, hair cropped shorter and uneven, face gaunter, the weight they’d managed to gain over their comfortable months in Falkreath sloughing off them like a spider’s old skin, but even so it’s a bit much to step foot in there so soon, some of the bounty posters still mouldering on their posts. One of the kids says something about needing a whole other house. They’ve only got the one. Still, it makes Torr think.

(Skyrim has one orphanage, a little wooden hall down on the banks of Riften’s canals. And now there is a cursed house in Windhelm.)

Torr doesn’t go to Solitude. They only occasionally go to Windhelm. When they’re not on business, they stay on the outskirts of Danstrar; the Pale, all frozen winds and snow high enough to ice a horse’s knees, is an unappetising enough target that aside from an announcement of alliance with Windhelm’s Stormcloaks the war has not truly reached them yet. Which is ironic, considering.

(If prompted, Torr probably could have seen this coming – Torr, who spent years with his finger on Windhelm’s pulse, moving through the people and hearing endless talk about the government. It was going to happen sooner or later. And of course the Empire reeling from the assassination of its Emperor – the first since around the time of the Oblivion Crisis, which no-one is anxious to repeat, and the reminder of which put plenty of important people quite on edge – is enough of an opportunity to weigh heavily in sooner’s favour. If he’d thought about it with his blade set beneath the hairs of the old man’s beard, he would have known he was setting a war in motion. What Torr doesn’t know is if he would have cared.)

(Probably not. He still doesn’t, after all. Not enough to regret anything.)

Dead winter bleeds into spring; a little ice melts, and the sea begins to change. Torr’s shoulder aches when the weather is bad. There are clashes on the roads, outside cities, described in newspapers and word of mouth. Cyrodiil ships off heaps of soldiers to spill into Solitude’s ports. The house in Windhelm is overrun. But the nightshade kept in the temperate corner that Babette has transformed into a garden begins to bloom months early. The tides still come in and out.

The old Emperor is dead. Skyrim is tearing itself apart. Torr cleans his knife after use with a soap that smells like lavender and tries very hard to dredge up any guilt.

[stahl-herz]

"There was a russet patch sewn onto the left breast, in the shape of a maple leaf with a white star set in its center."

-- Chapter 1

I read Every Generation by Gemini Star01 and wondered what the flag of this united Canada and 13 Colonies would look like.

[necrophilemagpie]

why this whole thing has such a grip on the brain

is the oc insert because i am obsessed in putting the dragon in situations? perhaps, but frankly

it's mostly about putting the trio in situations because the canon doesnt quite have anyone who'd provide the exact flavor of sheer identity crisis

[whoops this thing is way too long]

someone that is revealed to, before all of this, to have for a very long time simply kept on living in the human world anyway despite their inhumanity is arguably a description that doesn't... add up cleanly ideologically with how Hellsing operates, does it?

Though, funnily enough, 'ordinary human' doesn't apply cleanly to even any of the actual literal human major characters of the story except for maybe the wild geese.

There is a reason Pip has to give the speech about grieving the burning city and Sir Penwood had to make his strategically important sacrifice. The Iscariots dont read like normal people enough for something like this. Integra may be a sort of messy symbol for humanity narratively but the way the actual story treats her?

She's as much an outsider to humanity as the monsters are.

Been that way since that fateful day since she was 12, depending on how you imagine she was raised, maybe has always been to a degree.

Highly doubt Integra had much of a taste of normal human society. She's clearly not even remotely friendly with the other knights. Sure, she found Penwood amusing but i highly doubt they were in any capacity close. It doesn't appear the woman even Really leaves the manor outside of her job. We see her in civilian attire Once for fucks sake and it felt very 'what are normal people clothes again' to me personally. Walter and the vampires are realistically the only real close relationships she really ever had.

Seras too, has lived through something incredibly traumatic as a child and has been given no community or support, seen as at most a nuisanse. We do not get any mention of an adoptive family or other previous life to come back too, and its a context where in real life omission alone would be very telling.

Through that she has arguably too been robbed of being 'allowed' to be truly human long before she became a vampire. She was around people, sure, public school, foster care, what have you, but I somehow doubt a girl with severe ptsd would be understood much considering the time Hellsing is set in. If you're unwell as a kid you quickly learn just how conditional the care of strangers can be. Even if on paper they're meant to take care of you. She's kept up a mask of humanity with varying success but likely had known very little warmth a human life supposedly entails.

Alucard is strongly implied to believe that his humanity was torn away from him. He openly mourns it, but feels like he's been all but thrown into the grave of undeath by being forced to protect himself, and he's since only dug it so, so much deeper that he can scarcely see the sun anymore.

The very idea of being anything besides monstrous is very ludicrous to him, and he's so very jealous, of anyone who seems to have had even the slightest bit of a choice.

He was impatient and annoyed with how long it took Seras to accept her new nature because to him. It confused him to no end why Integra would never just make it official and admit her humanity was too incomplete to keep.

monsters are one way, humans are the other.

Humans have friends and family. They have homes to come back to, take care of each other, like many other animals they play and express individuality. They love, and love in uncomplicated, unconditional ways.

Monsters are inevitably alone. There isnt really a place for them to belong, they're solitary and must learn to enjoy it. Violence is, if not enjoyable, grimly necessary to a monster. A monster's attachment to others is a laborious, painful thing.

There is a clear line. You can't be both, you can't be one but keep some traits of the other.

But that's just one way of thinking, is it?

The dragon certainly starts out fitting so very neatly into the monster box. Glassy eyes, little priorities, truly alien relationship to the self. Their illness makes them appear like something that Should be dead. The way they seem to rationalize their situation comes off arguably even less human than even Alucard does.

And that would make sense! They weren't human for hundreds upon hundreds of years, in fact they were never human at all. There are some universal human experiences like how most acessible in modernity human food tastes or childhood they are fundamentally external to.

But as time goes on, as they realize that for the first time in the last few years, they're fine to stop running on empty and rest? As they find it safe enough to speak earnestly? The line gets increasingly blurry.

They start to talk of first sensible subjects like music and prose and history, but increasingly you'd find they're not simply 'making polite civilized conversation,' no. They've known some of the histories they speak of first hand, were friends with some of the writers mentioned even. They're intimately familiar with Making music, what goes into a play, and know a surprising amount about notably dated by now music production hardware and software. There's silly stories they have on hand to share.

Community to the degree Integra likely hadn't really ever known.

They've accepted certain few as siblings, they even apparently know how to take care of a child. They are currently the primary caretaker of their mysterious """benefactor's""" child because 'the woman might've wanted the kid but doesn't much care for raising one.' They genuinely care for the kid, and not Just because its someone else hurt by the same person. They seem to have Opinions on what's good for a child that seem to come from experience. It's not their first time around.

The culture to whom the human that caused them to exist belonged to? They still identify with it. Kept track of the family even, for actual hundreds of years they've been the distant relative that visits sometimes.

They seem to earnestly love the people they speak of and miss those no longer alive or who've they been unable to reach for the past nine years, which is most of them.

Family in a way Seras struggles to even imagine having.

Their illness, though something specific to nonhumans, is suddenly rather easy to recontextualize as a collection of individual rather human symptoms. Integra even has similar complaints about her joints. Their sometimes stilted speech isn't hard to accept as a mixture of something like neurodivergence and having modern english be about 5th language they learned. Humans do plenty of these same things with gender and sexuality too, thats nothing too special.

Even their suffering under the control of the woman in red, if you pay closer attention... starts looking a good bit more like plain old domestic abuse.

Yet they're very obviously Not a human, they say as much too.

The way they grieve is from a different angle, from one colored by hundreds of years of losing people, unable to forget even one. The way they love is similar, encasing every moment in amber of their eerily clear memory. They know too much historical context for every aspect of society to take much seriously, looking right for the outsiders of it for something truly interesting.

For fuck's sake, it's barely even blood what courses through their veins, even their internal anatomy is a touch off.

Somehow though, they lack Alucard's characteristic violent self hatred about it. Even in their current situation, having the very 'justification' for their abuse be that they're not human, they are very firm in the fact that being a dragon IS a cornerstone of their identity, that its not something that can be removed or altered, they wouldn't particularly want to be a human, and they're not worse off for it, they just Are who they are.

At peace with their belonging outside of humanity. Something Alucard swore to never be as much as complacent with.

They dont come in trying to challenge anything particularly, they just happen to be the kind of person the trio's worldview hadn't truly been tested against.

If any luck, maybe it'd get them to give some much needed attention to their own traits that have never quite fit the ideology either.

You know.

The real reason Integra had long known she wants Hellsing to cease to exist, at least in the way it does now.

Besides, it's kind of pointless rummaging through the shadows searching for boogeymen when monstrous humans are just as real.

"the woman in red" as the dragon calls her, may just be one.

[ssaalexblake]

The sea looks absolutely stunning today and I'm very glad I took a detour to go look at it 🥰

[nocturnalghoul]

Ghoul Blood Thoughts: Dew edition?

Okay this is like a special edition ghoul blood thoughts. A hypothetical of the hypothetical.

So I have said in previous ghoul blood thoughts that I feel like Dew's elemental transition would work sort of like a bone marrow transplant (BMT) and had more thoughts last week about that. ( for reference in case anyone is interested: main blood thoughts tag | overview post about element/blood type and Dew BMT thought)

Here is a bunch of rambling stuff below the cut about Dew's element change acting like a BMT and one of two potential situations that could come from that (might write the other option later if anybody is interested). 

Warning that I obviously will be talking about blood (in a kinda clinical way but still), but also putting Dew through mental turmoil about flipping elements. 

So a lot of the time with BMT patients there will be a time period where they will look like one type in the rbc portion and a different type in the plasma portion. Eventually though they will fully convert to the donor type and might even permanently change to that type (full engraftment of the donor), sometimes though they will start to revert back to their original type. A similar thing could happen with the procedure to flip Dew’s element. 

What if Dew sat there in various inbetween stages for years. He is predominantly a fire ghoul, but the water is still there somewhere. If you looked at his blood, his rbcs would match that of a fire ghoul and his plasma that of a water ghoul. What if someday his element starts to revert. 

It starts slow, barely noticeable honestly. The water never really went away anyways, but he starts to notice it a bit more. Sure his control of his fire magic has been slipping a little recently, but the tour cycles can be long and arduous, he is probably just tired. 

It doesn’t really flag as anything being wrong until after the last night of the tour. As they all are heading home, completely spent he feels one of his long since sealed over gills start to open back up. He manages to keep his chill for the rest of the trip til they get back, convincing himself he was just imagining things and that maybe his body was just finally reaching a proper equilibrium between his two types. 

Once everyone is settled though, he grabs Aether and the two of them end up spending an intense 48 hours in the infirmary. Tests are run and the overall consensus is that his body decided to suddenly revert elements. 

This ends up throwing Dew into a whole spiral because while yes there is a sweet nostalgic aspect to getting back the element he grew up with, that's not really him anymore. He has adjusted to being a fire ghoul. It's something he knows and now loves. 

After much discussion he is faced with a decision: accept the change, or redo the procedure and hope it sticks this time. The ghoulish doctors insist that it likely should stick and that what is happening is rare, but Dew still needs time to consider it. 

Option 1, be a water ghoul again: He sort of misses his water nature sometimes. He knows it never truly went away but he still feels its absence. He also considers how much fun it would be for both him and Rain to be the same element. They are already so close, but that elemental compatibility might bring them closer. There's a risk to this though, what if the clergy decides that they don’t need a failed fire ghoul as their lead guitarist for the Ghost project? He might get demoted to a general abbey ghoul or even worse, sent back down to the pit. How would Rain feel knowing that he let this happen and didn’t try anything? He knows a part of him is still upset about his former packmates leaving, would any of the ghouls ever truly forgive him?

Option 2, redo the procedure: He has grown to love the fire inside of him more and more everyday. It is now just as much a part of him as his original element. To give it up would feel like giving up a part of himself, to turn his back on everything that has happened since the elemental swap. He remembers how it magically drained Ifrit so much that he had to go back down to the pit to recharge his element essentially. It would feel wrong to waste the gift given to him by the fire ghoul. The entire process was so terrifying though, does he really want to go through with it again? Who would be the elemental donor now, the only ghouls with elemental manifestations strong enough would be Swiss or Sunny. Dew knows that both ghouls have other elements to lean on, and would still happily help them even if they didn’t, but he still feels conflicted. 

After several weeks of thought involving both silent contemplation and talking it over with the rest of the pack (well mostly Aether and Mountain to be honest), he finally decides to go through with the ceremony again. It seems the least disruptive and Sunny is more than happy to offer up her fire to help him out. 

[knackfandomarchive]

Some more screenies of a Lucas who might have freckles.

They're so hard to see I feel like I've gone mad and am hallucinating them. But what I do see is slightly too consistent to just be a glitch, right?

Also here's a link to my poll of whether Lucas has freckles, with about 18 hours remaining at the time of posting this post. He definitely has freckles in the second one, but this asks if he has them in the first. If so, a very different pattern.

[lhseungs]

found myself straying from the plot a bit OOPS

[curiousobsession101]

I used to work as a custodian at a university so here is an unfortunate problem with the idea:

Any custodians who clean whatever bathroom you post these in will most likely be required to take them down. I don't know if they'd ever be required to report them to their supervisor - probably not unless you damage whatever surface you attach them to? But if the custodian(s) assigned to that bathroom is a bootlicker they might do that anyway.

Custodians do not have access to security systems, but they DO have the ability (and in some situations are required) to contact security personnel. Which could result in anything from The Boss hearing about it and calling a mandatory meeting about anti-graffiti policies (or even straight-up unionbusting bullshit), to security being tightened around the entrances to the bathrooms to try to make it more likely you'll be caught if you try to put more flyers up.

None of this is a guarantee. When I was working custodial, there was one point where someone wrote "Universal healthcare now!" in sharpie on a stainless steel toilet paper dispenser in one of the bathrooms I was assigned to. I knew I was supposed to clean it off but I fully agree with the sentiment so I left it up until right before monthly inspections (when the team lead and/or supervisor goes through all the buildings to make sure everyone was doing their jobs well enough). Unfortunately, one thing I learned from working custodial is that a shockingly high number of the people being most thoroughly crushed by the boot are busy licking it.

So basically, if the relevant custodian(s) agree with you (or their hierarchy is lax and they don't clean that bathroom as often as they should), your flyer could stay in place for weeks or even longer. But if not you're probably looking at a flyer with a lifespan of one day or less.

So I have three suggestions:

Put the flyers up inside bathroom stalls, not out by the sinks and mirrors.

Use masking tape or something else that won't damage the walls you attach them to. If a stall has really old paint that peels off easily, don't risk it.

When the flyers are taken down (sadly it's almost certainly "when", not "if") use your best judgement about whether to put them back up. If you decide to do so, be extra careful about security every time you put new flyers up.

question! if a workplace is violating labor laws (which they often are) is there anything that prevents an employee from:

printing out copies of the laws being violated, maybe with helpful highlights/summaries

(and a helpful reporting hotline, if possible)

taping these signs anonymously in the employee bathroom stalls

i know retaliation is something many workers worry about, but bathrooms at least still don't have security cameras. so is this a practical and anonymous thing to do? and if so, why isn't it more common?