#addicted to the knife ?

[dogramagra-and-destruction]

zydrate comes in a little glass vial!!!

a little glass vial?

[fandomcringebucket]

ZYDRATE ANATOMY - TERRANCE ZDUNICH, PARIS HILTON, ALEXA PENAVEGA (REPO! THE GENETIC OPERA)

[stupidpop]

AMBER SWEET IS ADDICTED TO THE KNIFE

[the-lark-ascending69]

Watching ST1 and surprised by just how much Nancy lies. She lies even when she has no reason to, like when she's hanging out with Steve and his friends and wants to leave, she could have easily said something like "I need to do something" or "I'm tired" but she made up some excuse about her mom. When asking Barb's mom about Barb, she could have easily told her she was worried but she didn't. Girl just lies like it's second nature to her.

[merakiui]

get ready mera tomorrow is the day you will expect me camping in ur inboxes bcs the horny demons WILL have me by the neck

being made into a marionette/puppet/doll by the fellow guy and having all emotion draining in poor reader’s eyes!! they’ll be so pretty!! the “princess of the circus” !! an eye candy for the audience (and the boys especially) and at the end of the show, you will be giving them “special services” fellow being paid to have you give all the boys head!! heck have your holes stuffed to the brim by ALL of them at once!! and maybe behind the scenes, fellow will have a taste himself 🤭

HAVE A GREAT DAY MERA AAAA WILL COME BACK TO SCREAM SOME MORE!! 😫🫶🏻💕💕❤️❤️❤️

HI HI, LOVELY ANON!!!! 💖💖 omg,,, your thoughts are so good. I am ready for you to camp in my inbox. I will set up the tent for you and include many luxuries so the camping experience will be enjoyable!!!!

But omg the thought of being turned into a mindless sex doll for the boys and you can't complain or fight back. You're so pliable and obedient; it's in your nature to serve them and be fucked by them. <3 since Playful Land is a place in which you can indulge in fun day after day, why would any of the guys ever want to leave? Some of them (Trey, Leona, Cater, Jack, etc) are hesitant. Of course they want to use you, fuck you, kiss you, stuff you full, and do so many things they may not be able to do at school, but part of them knows this isn't the real you and you're just being controlled by Fellow. But time passes in Playful Land and eventually, whether they wanted to resist or not, they'll fall into Fellow's palm and indulge in you and your body. :) it's only a matter of time before the obsession wins out over restraint.

I think Fellow likely fucks you way before the rest get their chances. >:D he wants to have his fun first. Omg just imagine how many possibilities that opens up for Leona and Fellow rivalry. Two beastmen, one of them a sly fox and the other a protective lion, and they both want you. 😵‍💫 Leona respects you, of course, but he has to stake his claim to ensure that Fellow guy won't take what rightfully belongs to the king. >:(

[the---hermit]

It's starting to get colder so I god my beloved llama blanket out for the best cosy vibes.

13|09|2024

Yesterday I once again tried to figure out stuff for my upcoming academic semester and ended up being stressed as fuck as usual. I am not going to write down a whole rant about it, but the conclusion is I have not figured out half of the stuff and I am just annoyed and anxious about stuff. The most likey conclusion is that my first semester will be spent self studying for a couple of exams, and then if everything works out I'll have classes in the second semester. I then thankfully spent the rest of the day with my brother, so I had time to relax and focus on other things. Today on the other hand was a reading day, I finished reading The Two Towers and continued reading The Twisted Ones. I really needed a reading day, and tomorrow will probably also be a chill reading day, for which I am very much excited.

[starlightsuncrow]

I’m not always this productive but...the brain worms about my meow meows...

[youre-only-gay-once]

Supernatural ◦ 5×02 ◦ Good God, Y'all

[adolfusraptor1985]

The collection

[blkkizzat]

which jjk man makes spliffs out of backwoods and why is it toji?

lmfaooo. this is the foundation of the hot boxing with toji fic i have cookin' lol.

[minotaur-asterion]

Oh, I’d love to see the knife fight with your versions of them OwO

I’m really happy with how this turned out actually

[jameswilsonsupremacy]

currently have a lot of feelings abt house’s relapse in s7,, may have to write it out at some point. he was clean two years at that point (it was either foreman or chase who gave this number). the way a lot of them reacted, they expected it—not surprised. like they expected his sobriety to fail.

yes, relapse is often a part of recovery. but it doesn’t always have to be. the fact that the most standout conversation about it was from wilson to cuddy is wild to me. i’m not a huddy hater—I feel they would’ve eventually broken up but stayed friends if it happened in earlier seasons, because cuddy does care for house. but in s7, she wanted him to be someone he wasn’t. wilson accepted him as who he was.

house literally internalizes all of his issues. he’s terrified when cuddy leaves him. especially when he keeps saying no, and asks cuddy “don't. please don't,”. (also shout out to hugh laurie for his incredible acting in that scene because I cry every time!) and then he ends up back on vicodin and tries to push everyone away again. but think about that guilt. he knew his addiction hurt the people he loved—that’s why he tried to hide it from cuddy. that’s why he begged her not to leave, that it was a one-time thing. he knows it impacts more than just him. so even if he’s back in those harmful habits? I assure you that he is being eaten alive by guilt.

two years clean. he would’ve had so many moments where he likely came close to relapsing, or, he just had intrusive thoughts about it. he pushed through. and then he relapsed, and his world collapses, and he can only blame himself. and he hates himself for it. if he felt confident in his growth for two years and then lost it all, he probably lost sight of any hope for true recovery. for real happiness. for having people by his side in support.

and, in a way, house cannot see the people who care because he’s blinded by his own emotion. wilson went to that hotel to check on him. wilson went to cuddy. wilson was angry on house’s behalf, because he knows how hard it is for house to have gotten through those two years, and to have lost it. he knows how much house likely hates himself for it, even if the guy is acting all snappish and nonchalant about it all. wilson understood.

I want to write out all of my thoughts on it but this is the very basics so rahhhhh take this for now. I dunno if any of it makes sense but <3

[lorillee]

kaiji you have problems.You need to seek help

[piratekane]

#10 from the angst/fluff sentence list, por favor

ten: don't scare me like that

Beatrice wakes to an empty bed. It's quiet, the soft click of the cuckoo clock Ava swore they needed the only sound in the apartment. She blinks a few times until the shapes of the furniture come into focus: the end of the bed and the dresser next to it, the small end table on her side with its clock and a single glass of water and the slightly messier one on Ava's side with two dog-eared books and three empty water bottles.

Her body aches a little when she sits up, but she ignores the pull of a tender muscle. This is their home now, from the cuckoo clock to the various number of shoes Ava wears on a daily basis by the door; from the sink Beatrice likes to keep clean to the couch with a cigarette hole in the back; from the yellowing refrigerator in the kitchen to the magnets Ava insists on collecting despite not having anything to hang up. This is their home, for better or for worse.

She said that once and Ava lit up, launching into her dream vows which led to her dream wedding which led to her dream proposal. Predictably, Ava's vows seemed to be very long-winded. Unpredictably, she didn't seem to want some elaborate proposal. No flash mob, no scavenger hunt through the city. Just... something private. Simple.

A traitorous part of Beatrice, the one she doesn't listen to, did not file that information away. She simply left it out of the dossier she's building on Ava.

Ava is- Beatrice stops, looking at the other side of the bed. Ava is missing.

It doesn't immediately alarm her. Ava wouldn't have left the apartment. Not after the first time she did and Beatrice nearly tore apart the town looking for her. Beatrice finally found her at the large fountain in front of the church at the northeast corner of town, staring at her moonlight reflection in the water.

I just felt... small, Ava had told her. Home just felt too boxed in.

Beatrice had made her swear - on her life, on Beatrice's life - that she wouldn't do that again. That if she needed to leave, she needed to tell Beatrice and they would go together.

What if I need personal space? Ava had asked, an amused smile on her face. Beatrice had barely looked at her. We don't need personal space from each other, she said firmly.

Ava had hummed quietly, a strange but small smile on her face. But she hadn't said anything, hadn't said she was upset about it or that she wasn't going to follow along with that; that there were already so many rules she had to follow, this one would be her tipping point.

The next time she woke up and wanted to go, she woke Beatrice up with a soft shake of her shoulders and they walked with whispering footsteps through the quiet of town until they came to a country road. They watched the sun coming up and didn't speak.

It was the most peace Beatrice had felt in years.

So Ava must be here, in the apartment. She might be in the bathroom, or in the living room. Sometimes she sits on the couch with her phone's flashlight on and reads the books she picks up for Beatrice, the ones she swears she'd never read. Sometimes, she's at the kitchen table with the German newspaper spread out in front of her, teaching herself to read German. Ava, Beatrice has noticed, collects skills - years of being held at someone else's whim limiting the scope of her learning. And she seems to be catching up for lost time, learning languages of passing tourists and reading Descartes when she doesn't think Beatrice is looking.

Ava, it seems, has a thirst for knowledge that no one expected. Beatrice finds it equal parts endearing and something else that confuses her.

Beatrice swings her legs around, feet quiet on the hardwood floor. From her side of the bed - I sleep closest to the door, she told Ava, no room for arguing. My hero, Ava said with a hand on Beatrice's shoulder, squeezing gently - she can see the soft yellow light of the open refrigerator.

So, a midnight snack. Beatrice pads softly across the bedroom floor. She doesn't walk with heavy feet, like Ava, and the planks don't creak under her feet. Years of stealth work keeps her feet light, her steps nearly invisible. So Ava doesn't hear her ease into the living space, doesn't hear her brush a hand against the back of the worn chair. She doesn't hear Beatrice slip into the kitchen and she doesn't hear when Beatrice reaches forward to touch her gently on the shoulder, to let Ava know she's here.

Ava screams at the same time as she reaches up and grabs Beatrice's wrist, twisting it until it hurts and spinning Beatrice around until her hips hit the back of a kitchen chair.

She's startled for a moment, the air in her lungs caught in her chest in a tight block. It takes her another moment - Ava keeps pushing her forward. The chair clatters to the ground and then she's up against the kitchen table - before she manages to come back to her senses, grabbing the kitchen table and using her momentum to spin around.

It pulls Ava, hand still at her back, close. The pressure at her hips is replaced by the warmth of Ava, suddenly panting in her face. They both struggle for air, unsure of how to breathe together, before Ava's mouth closes with a snap.

"Jesus fuck, Bea," Ava hisses. She immediately drops Beatrice's wrist and brings it up between them, cradling it as she rubs her thumbs over the bone. "What were you thinking?"

Beatrice has the forethought to be a little embarrassed. Of course Ava didn't hear her coming; Ava probably thought she was still asleep in bed. "I'm sorry," she says quickly. "I shouldn't have-"

"Don't scare me like that." Ava sighs, blowing air up into her hair. It settles around her forehead, these loose strands falling out of her half-up ponytail. Beatrice is transfixed by them, doesn't catch half of what Ava says until Ava clears her throat.

"I'm sorry," she says again.

The wrinkle of frustration in Ava's eyes clears. "Just... can you wear a bell, or something?" She tips her head to one side. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

Beatrice looks down at Ava's fingers, still working in gentle circles. "No," she says breathlessly. Stop it, a stern voice in her head says.

This voice is loud. It tells her to stop being foolish. That they have a mission here, that Ava's life - and the lives of countless others - depend on her ignoring whatever feelings might be brewing under the surface; that there's no time for this, not when the world may very well end.

Her voice is a little steadier when she says, "No," again. "I'm fine. I didn't mean to scare you."

Ava laughs a little. "Were you just testing my reaction?"

"No. But it was quite good," she admits. "That scream certainly... distracted me."

Ava's smile is wide now. "See? I knew I could use that to my advantage."

"Though phasing would have been better," Beatrice can't help but point out. Yes, focus, that voice demands.

Ava doesn't seem to mind the advice. "I don't know. I thought I did a good job. I totally had you on your back foot. So you better tell Mother Superion that the next time you talk to her."

"I will," Beatrice promises. She looks down at the paper-thin space between their bodies. She feels hers flush and clears her throat, stepping back. Ava is in a thin shirt, no bra, and a pair of the shortest shorts Beatrice has ever seen. "Uh, we should-"

Ava looks down. "Ha," she says flatly. "Let me stop manhandling you, okay?" She drops her hand from Beatrice's wrist and takes a step back. Cool air rushes in in her place. Beatrice fights a shiver. "Did you need a snack too?"

Beatrice takes a moment to collect herself. "No. I was looking for you."

Ava's smile starts to stretch again. "Awh, did you miss me?"

Her face flushes. "No."

"You missed your cuddle buddy." Ava wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. "Are you going to include that in your report to Mother Superion?"

"No," Beatrice says breathlessly. She clears her throat and takes a deep breath. She sounds steadier the next time she speaks. "We're not... cuddle buddies."

"But we could be." Ava holds up a hand when Beatrice opens her mouth. "Just... think about it. I've got a strong application and honestly, you're not going to do better than me. And before you say anything, everyone needs one. Even Mother Superion." She reaches for Beatrice's hand again. "Just trust me."

She does. She does. But that voice is so loud. It stops her from saying yes, she's been thinking about what it might be like to wrap her arms around Ava in the dark. Yes, she's been wondering what it would feel like to curl up with her on the couch and let Ava read to her. Instead, she smiles tighter than she feels and covers Ava's hand with her own.

"I'll be in bed."

Ava seems to hear a note of finality in her voice because she smiles just a little sadly and nods once, letting Beatrice go. "I'm craving pickles," she says instead. "So let me just grab one and I'll be right in." She doesn't wait for an answer, turning her attention back to the open refrigerator.

Beatrice watches her struggle with the tin lid for a moment, caught up in the way Ava's tongue pokes out of her mouth slightly. She swallows hard past the feeling in her throat and makes herself turn, slipping back through the apartment and into bed. She listens to the lid go back on the pickles, listens to the refrigerator close, to Ava's loud footsteps across the apartment.

And when Ava rolls over and reaches for her hand in the dark, Beatrice reasons with herself that if that's all she's doing it, it's fine. The lines are still drawn. She's still protecting Ava, still trying to mold her into the fighter they need her to be. She's doing her job, her duty. Ava needs to be able to trust her, to know that Beatrice has her best interests in mind, that she trusts Ava just as much. And holding hands in the dark, if that's what does it, is what she needs to do.

Beatrice hangs onto that thought until sleep takes her over again.

[evilevilevilnotevilevilagain]

Zotating KA in my brain as usual,,, so I wrote something about them... a bit of their Sundering Lore in very vague confusing terms. But I had fun writing it up.

(repost cus I forgot you can just Do That on tumblr n post long shit directly into it. For ur convenience, enjoy.)

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

The cut splitting your lips is healing well and you are glad, so glad, because it is the last one.

“Was that really so difficult?”

He’s amazed it took so long, but he never gave up on you. He’s so nice to you now, sticky-sweet, don't-leave-me-with-these-animals kind of clingy- you heard him say it once, to a friend, when he thought you were asleep.

You’re really his now, he lets everyone know. You’re real proud of the fact; real proud even when Gnat beats you bloody again. She’s just jealous, so you don’t get mad. You’re so good at not getting mad anymore. Not good for the baby, so you watch yourself. Just enough not to break something back. Gnat’s taller than you, her kicks sting real bad, but you think if you were mad enough… She better watch herself, you tell her drooling blood and stomach acid onto cobblestone. She makes some kind of joke, but you know women only think of themselves- she’s only hurting you because she cannot have you. People do it all the time. You’re a hot commodity, you've got a whole bright life ahead of you. He says you’re all one big family, but he’s the only family you need. Too many voices just serve to confuse you when they’re all telling you their own truths. You know it's all derivative, interpretations of the one grand source- and he purrs them straight into your ear every night.

Twenty years later Orwell tells you “You know how I knew?”

You don’t remember coming to his room, or the crying, or the whole-body-tremor desperation when you’d told him how scared you were that it might be a girl.

But he’d listened and he’d schemed, and all his great plan ever did was leave you all alone to fend for your own self.

Gnat, when you see her again, outlines the path of your life as follows: parasite, cockroach, rat, breeding stock, herd dog.

She’s sorry at least for all the times she personally was the cause of your suffering. “He only told me to do it the first time, the rest was all me.” We all wanted to be special. Never really about you. Take it as you will, never really a compliment to be his favorite, should’ve seen him for what he was, should’ve saved you. You don’t need saving of course. Never did. You saved yourself. After all these years, you’re still doing it.

You don’t like the sound of Jewel’s name on her tongue, but it doesn’t stop her from saying it. His name is the only thing you like about him. It’s too soon, you’re not ready, you only just now started letting him in-

“The whole family was robbed of him,” she says, “when those aristocrats took you for their broodmother.” She has her own ideas of what your arrangement must have been.Though you recall with disgusting clarity the one sharp moment that Anna-Marie found you painting and rushed to rub your swelling abdomen while cooing “How delightful! He’ll be talented, too, won’t he?”

Every flake of individuality you ever exhibited cataloged away as favorable traits with set probabilities of showing up in the next generation. You felt like a great big pampered cow, but Gnat doesn’t need to know how right she is. She's wrong about so much of the rest of it. End of the day, you chose this. You signed the papers. You closed your eyes when you heard the first scream and didn’t open them again until they were all out of the room.

Then she lets you know he was in on it. But then he had that deal with you on the side. Orwell wanted you looked after, but they were all too far away -too dangerous to come back in so soon. And you were so fragile after It happened. But the Commander took you, and then he took your son. You still remember the dazed shock of being dumped at a spacious, yet entirely empty room at the back of the Watchguard barracks, body raw, lying on a cot all alone in the dark, discarded the moment they got what they wanted.

You had the rank, but nobody in the Watch even knew you. You had to fight to earn their respect, make them listen to you, even when you could barely stand. It brought the anger back. Not just pregnancy hysterics, this was you all along. You didn’t keep it in check anymore. Not restraining yourself spelled the difference between life and death.

“He was supposed to look after you.” He never answered Orwell again and he’d thrown you right into the thick of it, the one place your brother could not reach you.

After everything it's that realization that hurts the most. You had always respected the Commander for having done so much for you. It’s the same pattern, only each time it gets uglier, less coherent. Another boot you’ve prostrated yourself under with a smile. The thought makes you sick.

When he had come back, he hadn’t been thinking of what's best for you, killing Nadine was only getting rid of the competition. Nobody wanted that, to be fair. You cannot visualize yourself anywhere else but here, though at one time you had believed her. But it’s another command put in your head- the desire to leave was never really yours. You’ve never wanted to leave anything, anyone.

Gnat says they’re ready to welcome you back, but you still have to convince Orwell. Something about you the last time he saw you had made him cautious- maybe it had opened up the old wounds- and now he needs you to prove yourself before you can be let back into the fold.

“Consider it a very late abortion,” Gnat’s horse-toothed grin leers back at you,” it has to be worth the sacrifice.”

After all, it took nearly all of Him to put you back together. The least you could do is pay back the difference.

“Let him know he has a family that wants to meet him. Tell him he can be a part of it.” Who knows, maybe there’ll be enough left over to even give you something special, too.

You’re left there at the old bone well considering your options, though there aren’t many. One loathsome thought drifts above them: You want Jewel to live. This complicates things.