#Uncontrollably bleeding

[blazingstar29]

maverick is scary when he's angry. ice keeps it so restrained that it's scary for another reason. but when maverick is angry, you know. his gaze could level mountains, tame seas. it is a burning inferno and it won't just singe you, it will melt you.

no one expects it, no on expects maverick of all people to be so angry. he can act like an idiot, be silly, or even a dickhead, but no one expects anger like his. and every time it takes them by surprise. he reigns it in for so long, but it always spills. the volcano always errupts.

[many-sparrows]

im like if a girl were an open wound. waiting to get my blood and warmth all over you.

[callilouv]

do u guys ever just take a wrong step and slice ur toe

[teecupangel]

Desmond lives after the Solar Flare but half of his face is torched and all his ancestors (including Haytham) can control his body sometimes..... which is basically just a Two-Face/Harvey Dent scenario

If I remember correctly, Two-Face can’t control which side takes over, right? (then again, I’m sure there’s a specific timeline or arc where he can in the comics)

So let’s use that.

Desmond can’t control who takes over, but there’s pretty much trust among them all, and they’re cooperating with each other, although there is a lot of suspicion being directed at Haytham because he is a Templar.

Although Haytham is acting quite ‘cooperative’ (which is suspicious all by itself too) and they all have the same priority: to keep Desmond safe.

Unorganized Notes:

Prioritizing Desmond’s safety was bound to happen. They all share the same body so that means they need to protect said body.

Desmond wouldn’t wear any ‘two-faced’ themed clothes because that kind of fashion sense will catch people’s eyes. He’s most definitely going to keep his hood on and maybe even get a face mask or some kind of fabric he can wrap around his lower face to make it harder for people to see how half his face is torched.

He might even grow his hair, so he could use it to hide half his face, although that would end up being scrapped because, goddammit, it’s hard to see and the hair gets in the way.

The most ‘two-faced’ theme clothes he’d do would be to wear a full on half white half black mask. Maybe even add a bit of gold accent to it?

Wanna make Desmond’s life more annoying? It’s not just his face. Half of his body is torched, and the middle of it looked like the burnt part was slowly creeping towards the other half. (I kinda like this idea of him being more like the burned version of Hel, the half-normal, half-rotting goddess of the dead… so, like the Muspelheim-version of Hel XD)

In this scenario, Desmond could be a rogue Assassin, working alone to fuck up Abstergo while looking for Bill Miles because he (especially Altaïr and Ezio) want his Apple back.

Altaïr usually takes over when something tech-heavy is needed, since his time studying the Apple helps him understand 21st century tech far more easily than Desmond himself.

Ezio usually takes over when it’s time to put on the charm and for any situation where swaying other people to their side is paramount.

Ratonhnhaké:ton takes over when they need to hunt something or someone, or if they need someone who hits fast and hard with no qualms fighting a lot of people with really fast guns.

Haytham usually takes over when it’s time to stop being nice and manipulate people. Threatening and intimidation? That’s more Altaïr’s alley. Haytham is there to lie and cheat and manipulate people into doing what they want without them realizing it. Oh, and if the need to act like an elitist prick is needed (“There’s no need to for such rudeness.” “Bite me, Haytham. Ow! Did you just… bite my own arm???” “It was not me. I would never drop to such immature tomfoolery.” “… Guys…” “Not me/no/It was not me.” “Well, obviously, one of them are lying.” “Uh-huh.”) (It was Ezio)

[susansontag]

the boy and the heron was really rad!!!!! feat @bearally @buyhercandy1997 & @hermitculture 🤟🏼

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

my brother suggesting we go for a walk and me panicking over it because thick trousers can only do so much and I can't possibly walk in thick trousers but the thin ones they're not totally bloodsoaked yet I don't want to mess it up but too late I've already messed everything up

[pattydia]

my day off today may have to rewatch dia

[nomairuins]

grahh this sucks . my entire famiyl is like Being a little weird bc of my whole little moment yesterday and i dont like it . but wtvr

[mysterypigeon]

i hope the metal nuts that i have been tightening for the past hour feel pain.

[quercussp]

it's such an absurd juxtaposition, i have fun watching phil's new video, i'm super pumped for the new fantasy high season, i'm enjoying the general pre season 2 omfd freak out, things are happening, i care about things and get excited and then at the same time i still live in this nightmare dimension/timeline where nothing will ever be happy ever again and joy has permanently been erased from my pallet of emotions

[royalreef]

@archival-wight​ || Continued from here.

      Liam’s arms instantly snag Miranda’s arms, bolting inside less like she had seen him and more like a spooked minnow running for the shadows, bolting for the open crevasse of the door the second she saw it. She doesn’t realize he’s said anything, that anything has come from his mouth at all, all those fine and delicate fronds making up her fins going to waste. Her arms seize around him the second she makes connection, wrapping him up like she can’t decide if he’s a rock or a piece of driftwood or someone else too, lost at sea with her.

     Her breathing is hard, heavy against him. Air is sucked in and exhaled in long and anguished sobs, thudding from her chest with the grave sensation of a rockfall. It washes over the entryway, fills up the foyer from the bottom to the top, tasting of brine. The tears keep falling, keep leaking out from the two long grey-purple organs that trail off from her eyes, some dried in a crust of salt crystals and more thick and syrupy and dripping onto the floor, onto Liam’s shirt. She smells less like her usual strawberry perfume, and more like the something-washed-up-with-the-tide that the ever present saltwater scent hints at. It’s a faintly rotten odor, something animal and thick, stinging against the roof of the mouth and leaving an aftertaste there like pond scum.

                                                And, of course, there’s the blood.

      How could anyone miss the blood? There’s so much of it. It sticks to Liam’s shirt when she touches him, clings to him like she’s trying to glue him to herself, making it so he has to pull back to separate the fabric. It’s gone thick and congealed already, starting to dry and flake at the thinnest edges, where he might be able to almost see the color of her clothes beneath it. It plasters down and across her arms and her chest so heavily that it leaves an imprint of her behind on Liam, a spectral image of Miranda written out against his fabric and skin, revealing the folds where she bends and the peaks of her scales.

       However, there is one patch where the blood is fresh and wet, glistening in the low light, candle flame pooling in its divots and revealing the movement as it continues to drip down and onto everything it touches. It flows down in a river, tracing over Miranda’s arm, embracing her like a lover, clinging to the underside of her body as it drips along her belly and down to her hips. It’s source is easy to trace back to, just by looking up.

      The wound is dark and ragged, cutting down into the space just above Miranda’s shoulder girdle, severing through the meat in neat gashes. It repeats in parallel, forming two half-moons, each composed of a pattern of several valleys with shallower peaks in between, that when combined all together, act as though someone came at her with a meat cleaver.

       But Liam would know that pattern. Most people would, really. It’s a simple pattern, once it’s caught, and a distinctive one.

      The bite is large, and it is deep, and Miranda just keeps crying, and crying, and crying, and she doesn’t seem to react to it. She doesn’t address it, doesn’t look at it, doesn’t think of it. She can’t think of it. It’s not the problem, it’s not where the pain is stemming, and she would have been able to deal with it if it was just a bite. If that was all this was. If only that was all she was.

      There’s too much blood. As in — even from the size and the depth of the wound, the pattern of the teeth familiar in a way that was hard to place, it couldn’t have bled nearly enough to drench Miranda in the way she is right now. Not even if she had waited, if she had made it worse, it shouldn’t have bled that much, and it couldn’t have. Further checking would confirm any suspicions. Most of the blood wasn’t even Miranda’s, thought it still felt familiar in that awful way, that way that was right there and yet wasn’t. There was only one thing a bite like that could have come from.

       All at once — Miranda slumps to the ground, Liam forgotten above her. She hasn’t fainted, though it’s sudden enough to make the idea flare to life in alarm. Her hands come up to cover her face, cupping over her eyes and over her mouth as her claws begin to chatter, teeth rattling against each other, sobbing growing louder, more pained, ragged at the edges and sick in her throat. Miranda sits down, down right before Liam, and curls up on herself. She hasn’t even moved further in, hasn’t edged further beyond the doorway, and her tail is curling around herself and she’s crying into her palms, forgetting her wound, forgetting the blood.

       Everything is too much. Everything is too much. The briefest relief allows her to begin to fall apart all over again, no longer having to hold herself together enough to get here, to get to the closest anywhere she can be, and she sobs like a baby, head bowed down to the antique floorboards, like absolution at his knees.

[legolasvegas]

Not “girls are tougher because we can do everything boys can do but in heels” but “girls are tougher because we have to do everything boys do while we are on our period”

[arolesbianism]

Fighting for my life to find more swap au songs that arent abt wx or Walter

[stunie]

“DIDN’T MEAN TO HURT YOU!”

HAIKYUU + ACCIDENTALLY HURTING YOU. ft. hinata shoyo, kuroo tetsurou, & tsukishima kei x f!reader

filled request : “Since you said you write for haikyuu, can you imagine how sweet those tall (Hinata is tall in spirit) and strong green flag boys would be all very sorry and remourseful for harming their baby in accident? I think even Tsukishima (my fave asshole) would try to make it up even if it wasnt that serious.”

note : added kuroo ^ ^ <33 thank u for sending this in nonnie !!!

TSUKISHIMA KEI.

You don’t know when the brilliant idea of jump-scaring Tsukishima Kei first popped into your mind. Maybe it was because he’s been egging you on lately, resting a heavy arm on your head, then on your shoulders— snickering when you start huffing and puffing about how “You’re not a damn armrest.”

Cute- to him, probably. But today would be your turn to mess with him, show him a little taste of his own medicine, or something like that. You just think it’d be funny to hear him scream for once.

You’re as quiet as can be when you tiptoe behind him from where he’s pouring himself a bowl of cereal, your fluffiest socks already on to ensure maximum silence with the extra cushioning. All it would take was one singular hug around his middle— and then you’d squeeze, force the scream right out of his body.

You’re so close to him that you can hear his breathing now, each soft breath making your heart race a little faster, and you’re suddenly reminded of just how big your boyfriend is. You have to glance upwards to check how he’s doing, and you confirm the fact that he’s indeed.. still focused on perfecting his cereal to milk ratio.

Too much to notice you right behind him, at least.

It all happened too quickly for either of you to have reacted differently. You’re pouncing forward, arms reaching to circle around his waist, and you just barely register the sound of a loud gasp before there’s an impact directly to your nose, your body recoiling back as your vision flashes white.

“F-fuck!” You wince, staggering a couple steps back before you crouch down, hands flying to your nose to clutch it tightly as soon as the throbbing pain sets in.

“What the hell?” He sputters, eyes flickering from his elbow to your face a couple times before he’s rushing to crouch beside you. His hands are awkwardly hovering over your body as he tries to get a better look at you. “What were you doing there? Let me see.”

“Kei,” you sniffle, letting him pry your hands away from your face with a pained hiccup, “Was just gonna scare you….ouch…”

“You’re an idiot,” he snaps, but his eyes are full of worry when he leans in to examine your face. His finger comes to gently trace over your nose, other hand tilting your head up. “..At least it’s not bleeding.”

“Mhm,” you give him a nod, “..So did i get you?”

His eyes narrow at you, but he shifts, leaning forward and nodding for you to climb onto his back. “Idiot,” he’s grumbling to himself, “Do you even have to ask?”

The way you pout at the nickname has his eyes softening ever so slightly before he’s tearing his gaze away from you. “Get on already. There’s enough cereal for both of us.”

“Hm? But you only got one spoon,” you wrap your arms around him, letting him lift you up onto his back.

“And?”

KUROO TETSUROU.

“Look at this one,” Kuroo laughs, tightening the arm around your frame to pull you closer against his side. “He looks like Garfield, doesn’t he? What a neat cat.”

“Mhm,” you hum, nuzzling your nose into his chest as you scroll through your own socials. It was a routine the two of you had, to scroll absentmindedly while tangled in each other’s limbs until someone falls asleep first— except Kuroo’s been laughing uncontrollably for the last ten minutes.

You shoot him a nervous glare each time his phone threatens to slip from his grasp, the scare he gives you always accompanied with an “Oops! That was close.”

“Tetsu…” you warn when he suddenly jolts again, frantically adjusting his grip with a shaky chuckle. Your head was right below his phone, after all. “Don’t worry, don’t worry,” he smiles, free hand rubbing your head. “I’d never let it fall on you.”

“You’d better not..” your voice trails off into a sleepy mumble, and you switch your phone off, letting it plop onto the mattress as you wrap your arms tightly around his middle. “I’m starting to feel a lil tired..”

“Hmm? I’ll be joining you soon, sleepy girl,” he soothes, hand moving to rub your upper back as you melt into his touch. “Ah! That Garfield-looking cat is back,” he gasps, followed by a hushed whisper when you stir, “Oops. Inside voice, inside voice… hm? What’s this?”

You start to fidget, awkwardly adjusting your position against his side when he suddenly falls eerily silent. maybe too silent. You count the seconds of silence— ten seconds, then fifteen. You perk up a bit, one eye opening to check on your boyfriend, but he’s suddenly jerking back and yelping the moment after, phone slipping from his hands and landing right on your head with a loud thud. “Ah-!”

“Oh— sorry, sorry!” His large hand is covering your head instantly, the other tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “Didn’t mean to drop that on you. Just scared the living daylights out of me. That garfield, damned jumpscare… you okay?”

You glare at him, but it doesn’t come off threatening with the tears filling your eyes. “Tetsu…” you growl, and he flinches. “I know, I know! I’m so sorry,” he says, pulling you closer to pepper kisses over the top of your head. “I told you…” you pout, “I’m gonna get a bump on my head now.”

His lips tug into a sheepish smile at the thought of a lump forming on your head. “That’s my bad…”

“You’re laughing!”

“I’m not!” He protests, his hands rising up in defensive as you angrily puff your cheeks out. “Nope. No way. This is no time for laughing.”

He pulls you into a hug, chuckling as you weakly push at his chest with a whine. “There, there. You can be mad at me all you want. I deserve it.”

“Although, I think you’d be cute with a bump on your head too.”

HINATA SHOYO.

If you ask him, Hinata would still swear on everything that his intention back then was nothing more than to squish you in a suffocating bear hug. He definitely did not mean to knock you onto the floor your very first day back from vacation or anything like that.

You just looked so pretty waiting for him at the airport, soft smile tugging at your lips as you checked on his location through your phone one last time before tucking it away into your pocket. The way you shifted between your toes and the balls of your feet was just so cute, too cute that he couldn’t help but start running towards you, arms stretching out to give you the biggest hug of your life.

His eyes were slammed shut the moment he leapt towards you, so he didn’t catch the way your mouth fell open in a gasp or the way your eyes widened as your weight suddenly shifted backwards. “S-Shoyo?!”

The sound of your voice has his eyes shooting open, a surprised “E-eh?” coming out when he realizes the two of you are falling— and fast. He’s barely able to snake a hand underneath your head before the two of you crash onto the floor with a loud thud.

“Ouch— oops,” he grumbles, eyes slowly blinking open as he shifts onto his elbow. There’s a sigh of relief from him when he sees that your fall was at least partially cushioned by his hand, and you seem unhurt with the way you’re blinking up at the passerby before shying away from their gaze when you realize they’d stopped to stare at the two of you sprawled out on the floor.

“Sorry— are you okay?” Hinata’s looming over you now, carefully setting your head on his lap. “You didn’t hit your head, did you?”

“N-no…” you mumble, eyes narrowing into a glare as he freezes in place. “Shoyo,” your voice falls to a whisper, “They’re all looking at us now. really closely too…”

“What?” Hinata laughs, “Shy again?”

You tear your gaze to the side, cheek puffing out a bit. “A little…”

“Want me to carry you?”

your eyes widen. “H-huh?”

“Mhm,” he’s smiling brightly, arms snaking around your body to lift you up in bridal style as you yelp, scrambling to hold onto your bag, “I gotcha. Let’s go home now!”

“..Shoyo!” Your cheeks burn when you notice the onlookers now giving you a soft smile— and the elderly couple behind them are exchanging looks before they’re whispering something to each other- you recognize it as an ‘aww’ by the way their lips move.

“This is more embarrassing!”

“Hm, is it?” He looks confused by your shyness, but his hands are tightening around you anyways, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry! I’ll get us back fast.”

[bunnis-monsters]

Could I get werewolf bf who is nervous about knotting his mate because he doesn't think she can take it.😘😘

His hand grazed over your belly, squishing the soft fat as his cock throbbed inside of you.

Every single time the two of you have mated so far, he had pulled out and kept his knot warm between your thighs until the swelling went down.

It wasn’t ideal… but he could never dream of hurting you.

Compared to him, you were such a little thing, his chubby princess. If he somehow injured you just to get a few seconds of pleasure, he would never forgive himself…

Tonight though, when he was about to pull out of that fat, warm pussy of yours, you whined and wrapped your legs around his waist, playing with his fur. “N-no… don’t you wanna breed with me?”

The words that left your mouth alone were enough to have his claws sinking into the bed, his lip bleeding from biting down on it to keep from knotting you instantly.

“Fuck, I want to more than anything…”

You puffed out your chubby cheeks in a pout, your lip wobbling. “Then why do you always pull out? Hurts my feelings… wanna have pups with you…”

He groaned loudly, bucking his hips uncontrollably as he imagined your belly becoming heavy and swollen with his young.

It wouldn’t take much to get you pregnant, just keeping his fat knot inside of you so you stayed stuffed full of his cum would be enough…

He finally snapped, lunging forward to bite into your shoulder as he rutted into you with an animalistic pace. “Mine… fuck, all mine… gonna make you a mommy, fuck!”

You yelped as his knot swelled inside of you, cum spurting into your fertile womb. It felt heavenly, being stretched out on your mate’s knot as he filled you up.

The second he regained his senses he immediately began to fret over you, begging for you to tell honestly if it hurt or made you uncomfortable.

“God, no…” you slurred, fucked out of you mind. “Feels so good…”

He let out a soft purr, determined to be as gentle as possibly as the two of you stayed stuck together… and he began planning on what color you’d paint the nursery once you were heavy with his pups.

———————

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