#everyone talks over them its a god awful noise

[silverskye13]

I am bored out of my mind

[nathaslosthershit]

Everyone's Favorite Uncle (TD!OP81)

(Part 6 of Teen Dad [Can be read on its own]) Summary: The 1st time Logan met the Piastri twins and the 3 other times he cemented himself as the favorite honorary uncle. Warnings: Mentions of the 'Tensions Rise' fight. But mostly a whole lot of fluff

1. First Meeting

At 3 months old, the twins hadn’t met anyone who wasn’t family, their parents being extra cautious about bringing them around new people. As expected, these first 3 months as parents had been far from easy for 19 year old Oscar and 18 year old Honey. Especially now that Frances, their daughter, had started teething earlier than usual. Being as it was a painful experience for the newborn, Frances had been non stop crying, causing her brother, Hudson, to cry in return. After days of minimal sleep, the house was a mess and so was everyone in it.

After weeks of asking, Oscar had finally let Logan come over to see the twins. Had he known what the state of his home would be at the time, he probably would have pushed back the visit even more, but Logan refused to let Oscar cancel for something as trivial as a messy house. But he was unprepared for just how messy the home he was entering was going to be.

Fortunately, when Logan had arrived, all seemed well in the house. The twins were awake and not crying, and Honey had gotten a quick power nap in while Oscar tried to clean up the living room. Logan had noticed the lack of energy his long time friend seemed to have when he entered but he had brushed it off as the first few months of fatherhood having drained his energy. They talked for a bit while Honey fed the kids in the other room, all seemed well until…

“Oscar, she is crying again and I just fed and changed her. She isn’t due for a nap either. God, I think it's her teeth again. Can you go get the teething ring? I think it's in the fridge.” Honey asked as she barged into the room, clearly stressed.

Oscar immediately got up to check the fridge while Honey offered a quick hello to Logan. After a few minutes of silence and Oscar making loud banging noises that only made Frances cry harder, he came back in, empty handed.

“It's not there, love. Could you have placed it somewhere else?” He asked, starting to panic as Frances’ cries got louder.

Logan felt awful watching this go down. He knew it wasn’t his fault but guilt ate away at him while he stood there, not knowing what to do.

“Crap, I don’t think I washed it. It may be next to the sink? I'll go wash it while you get the soothing gel. Um… Logan, can you hold her?” Even though Honey had phrased it like a question, Logan realized it was not as she shoved the baby in his hands. Thankfully he had held babies before so he wasn’t so helpless, but this pressure to not hurt the screaming child did make him shake a little.

Sitting down on the couch, he readjusted the baby in his arms, starting to sway her as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He watched as his two friends hurried off while he noticed Frances starting to quiet down. Minutes later when both parents barged in, they witnessed magic. Their previously fussy daughter was now cooing and giggling while in the arms of their long time friend. 

“How?” Honey asked, too shocked to get out a full sentence.

“I-I don’t know she just stopped crying and started staring at me.” Logan replied with the same amount of shock in his voice.

“You are a miracle worker.” Oscar said. At this, Logan looked up at the two teen parents, taking in their disheveled states. He would have laughed if it wasn’t so sad. 

An idea came to his head.

“You two go clean yourselves and rest a little, I’ll watch her. Maybe bring Hudson in so I can meet him as well.” Logan demanded. He wouldn’t have used such a commanding tone if he didn’t think they would fight him on this. As much as they needed the extra time to themselves, they were far too humble, maybe even stupid, to ask for help.

With a few quick ‘are you sure' and ‘you are a lifesaver’, the two parents slowly backed out of the room after bringing their son in.

They got two hours to shower and nap before it was time to take their kids back from Logan. 

The twins might have been too young to realize it at the time, but this was the moment he became everyone’s favorite uncle, especially Honey and Oscar’s.

2. First words

Ever since Logan had met the twins a year ago, he had frequented the Piastri household to see the family. It was Valentine's day and Logan, having no plans or someone to spend it with, had stepped up to offer to babysit so the two parents could get a break. While he was happy to watch the kids, he also had ulterior motives for visiting.

For the past few months, ever since the twins turned 1, Oscar had been stressing about how long it was taking them to say their first words. Honey was less stressed than her boyfriend, as she knew she took much longer than most kids to say her first words and ended up fine, but it was getting to the point where she started to get a little cautious. What they didn’t know was that for the past few months Logan had been trying to throw his name into the mix. While Oscar tried to sound out the word “Dada'', and Honey pushed “Mama”, Logan had secretly been trying to get them to saw “LoLo”. He had gotten a ‘Lo’ from Hudson so far but he still wasn’t satisfied. 

“Don’t worry, I have done this so many times already. Go out and have a reasonable amount of fun, two kids is enough for you both for now.” Logan joked as he started pushing Honey and Oscar out of their own house. He didn’t feel the need to sit through a 45 minute lecture he had been given far too many times already. 

Once they had left, Logan began his master plan. While he changed, fed, changed again, washed, and played with the twins, he kept repeating “LoLo” hoping they would finally bite and say it. Sadly though, there was nothing but the usual gibberish from the two.

He felt defeated as he opened the door to Oscar and Honey, who had clearly had a fun night as they came stumbling in. The kids were still up as they had napped late and Honey wanted to put them to bed once she got home.

“Thank you SO much Logan. You are a gift from God as usual.” Honey slurred as she went to change, leaving Oscar and Logan alone to talk.

As Logan packed up to head to his apartment, Oscar said hello to his kids. Just as he walked out the door, Logan heard a very clear and very distinct “LoLo” from behind him. As he turned around, he was met with Hudson reaching out to him and a completely stunned Oscar holding the one year old. 

Realizing he had been caught, Logan entered fight or flight mod.

“Logan, what have you done?” Oscar asked in a stern tone.

“Nothing”

“Logan, talk.” Oscar had really mastered the Dad voice, he realized. Logan was a 20 year old man, he didn’t need to explain shit, but he still crumpled as Oscar looked at him.

“For the past few months I have been trying to teach your children to say “LoLo”. They hadn’t said it yet, I swear, this was the first time.” He rambled as if he was a kid that had been found with his hand in the cookie jar.

Oscar mentally facepalmed at the confession. 

“Alright. Fine. I am mad but I will be even more upset if Honey finds out. Under no circumstances can she know that you did this, or that your name was her son’s first word. Got it?”

Without saying a word, Logan saluted the Australian in front of him and quickly left the household, shaking off the fear Oscar instilled in him but also thrilled he had been Hudson’s first word. 

3. Logan saves the day

Hudson and Frances had been sick for the past week due to a virus they had caught at a playdate. Sadly, as the three year olds got better, their parents got worse.

As Oscar and Honey tried to push through the day, they became miserable due to the fact they couldn’t shake this virus off and that it was a beautiful day out that their kids had to miss out on because their parents were stuck inside. But after both twins gave their best puppy dog eyes to their father, pleading to go out, Oscar had no choice but to call in reinforcements. 

45 minutes later, Logan had both twins in the backseat of his car as he drove to the nearest ice cream parlor.  

Two hours, some big scoops of ice cream, and one park visit later, Logan carried two sleeping toddlers in his arms as he reentered the Piastri home.

4. Distractions

(This takes place during Tensions Rise so if you haven’t read it yet, I would advise you do so)

Wanting to give Honey a moment to collect herself, Logan walked the twins to his driver’s room where he had a very comfortable couch he knew they would fall asleep fast on. He gave them water and tucked them under some extra blankets he had and right before he got up to leave he heard Frances speak up.

“Lolo, does daddy not love us?” the three year old girl asked.

“Franny, why would you think that? Of course he does.” Logan did not feel equipped to have this conversation and started to panic, wondering if he should call for Honey. 

But he knew she needed a bit of space.

“He didn’t have breakfast with us when he said he would and he made mommy cry outside when he didn’t come.” Hudson answered for his sister. 

Logan took a deep breath as he tried to come up with some kind of answer.

“Me and Osc- your dad’s jobs are hard and take up a lot of time. Sometimes things happen and plans change, but that doesn’t mean he loves you any less. Everytime he is traveling for work, he is always showing me pictures of you guys and telling stories. That is all he talks about!” Logan said, putting smiles on the two twin’s faces. “You know, when he and your mom found out they were having twins, I was one of the first people he told. We were teammates and he had such a big smile on his face during a team meeting that I forced him to tell me. Ever since then I knew he loved you both so much. Even if he hasn’t been around too much, I have no doubt he adores the two of you.”

With that, he gave the two kids a kiss on the forehead as he walked out of the room, hoping to cheer up their mother as much as he had helped them.

[hawnks]

Alpha!Nanami/Omega!reader

Word count: ~2,800

warnings: a/b/o typical sexism, abuse of authority (from side character), mention of leg injury

……………………………………………………….

He brings the storm with him.

You learn him in whispers, along with a bevy of myth and rumor. He drifted here from the East. His clothing has been mended at least a dozen times, but his shoes are sturdy, expertly crafted. He makes no noise when he walks — hardly any noise at all. Rōnin, not samurai. And you can’t trust a man with no honor.

He killed his old master, I heard.

No, he was exiled.

Maybe he killed his master because he was exiled.

“He’ll be gone tomorrow once the rain lets up,” the innkeeper says, cutting off all further speculation. “Now, mind your work, not the guests.”

Beside you, someone grouses, “He chose a funny season to wander, if he’s afraid of the weather.”

…

The rain does not let up.

It puts everyone in a sour mood. The streets turn viscous and tacky, the air brutally cool. You draw the short straw, sent to fetch the days meat in the early morning, a long trek to the fishmonger that leaves you drenched down to your underwear.

It takes twice as long as usual — you lose your sandal a few times in the muck — and when you arrive the stand is vacant. The old man had come down with pneumonia.

Frustrated, you take the long way home. They can wait for the bad news, and you’re so soaked a few extra minutes won’t make any difference. You catch the eye of a few of the daimyō’s men, leering at you from beneath awnings, snickering as you walk by.

“Wanna hear a joke about wet omegas?” one of them calls to you.

You grit your teeth and keep walking.

You deliver the news about the fish to the innkeeper at the door to her room, so you can dart out again before she has a chance to say anything. God forbid she sends you out on another errand.

Soaking, furious, you change into your uniform, and begin your shift at the tavern.

The work is tedious, but decently lucrative. You like to talk to travelers, learn what’s happening beyond the boundaries of your town. It’s hard to put into words what you get out of this, hoarding information like you’re starved for it. Maybe the sheer notion that there is someplace else. That this town and its people are not the only things in the world.

The comfort of knowing away is still possible.

You expect to ask the rōnin the same, starry eyed questions, regardless of how the other server is avoiding him. It might even be enough to salvage this shitty morning.

But you don’t get a chance to ask him where he’s from, what he’s seen. You open your mouth to say something, and choke on air thick with the scent of wisteria.

He meets your gaze.

He won’t look away.

Your wet hair drips on his table.

You can’t feel your fingertips.

Shoving yourself away from the table so hard it rattles against the floor, you excuse yourself in a mumbled tumult. You recruit the other server to take over your tables for the rest of the morning. You must look as awful as you feel, because she doesn’t even question it as you retreat back to your room, throw yourself under the quilt. Close your eyes and pray for your heart to settle.

The one thing the gossip didn’t prepare you for — an alpha.

…

Another day of storms. Another morning you draw the short straw.

Another day you limp home through the mud, empty handed.

The soldiers don’t leer today. Instead, the daimyō is waiting for you. It feels like he’s always waiting for you, that he could swoop in any moment, as quick and ruthless as a hawk.

He’s said he could follow your scent straight to you, no matter where you’re hiding. Sometimes you believe it.

He’s leaning against a wall under an awning, but you know the casual stance is deceptive. He can be fast when he wants to be.

He calls your name, an inferred order to come.

You pretend you didn’t hear, keep walking.

He’s standing straight now arms at his side. Ready. Your insides feel leaden. It takes all your willpower to keep moving forward. To disregard an alpha is one, painful thing. To disregard the daimyō is simple insanity.

Water blurs your vision. You can’t tell from the corner of your eye what expression he’s making. Sometimes he finds your insolence humorous.

Sometimes not.

Just a dozen feet further and you’ll be at the bend in the road.

“You should greet me,” he says. Quiet, but you’re so hyper-vigilant, there’s no way you could miss it.

“Good morning, My Lord,” you whisper to your feet.

He doesn’t step out into the rain, but his voice follows you around the corner. Teasing, condescending. “That’s a good omega.”

He could kill you for your bad manners. A servant, ignoring their lord. No one would question it, no one would dispute it.

But then — he would be killing the only omega in the whole town.

As much as he resents your disobedience, he would resent the loss of you even more. An alpha must have an omega, he told you. That is his right.

Chin tucked and scurrying, you don’t realize you’re on a collision course until you’ve already run into the man. The impact sends you tumbling to the ground.

Through the buffer of the downpour, it takes you a minute to recognize him. His scent.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he says. “I apologize.”

He bends to offer you a hand up. You just stare at his outstretched palm. Silent. Reeling.

You wait for him to give an order. Demand you take his hand, or that you come to stand on your feeble legs all on your own. It’s simply an alphas nature to wield their power like a cudgel, to bend everything and everyone to their will.

And now you have two of them to deal with.

Another moment of stillness. Your breath steams. Your pulse drowns out all other sounds.

He kneels.

Like this, on the same level, you can see the color of his eyes. So perfectly brown they’re almost black.

“Are you alright?” he says.

His voice is staid and calm. Not demanding. Not cruel. It — confuses you. You don’t understand what he wants from you.

You rise to your knees, shoving him with all your strength. He doesn’t budge. He remains solid and upright beneath your hands. You can feel the muscle, the innate strength. He’s warm, beneath the wet clothes. So incredibly warm.

You wonder if he could soothe your chill. You wonder if the touch of his bare skin would burn.

With a gasp, you tear away, appalled and mystified by your own reaction.

He stays kneeling as you rise and step away. He stays as you rush home, the scent of wisteria heavy in your lungs.

…

The innkeeper is displeased with your performance, of late. She gives you a stern warning that you shouldn’t let your “licentious nature” interfere with work.

“I don’t know why I agreed to take an omega on,” she sighs. “Not like you’ll be around for much longer, anyway.”

You wince. “Am I fired?”

The old woman laughs. “No, no. Not yet, anyway.” She waves at you, a full body gesture. A reference to the omega in you. “You’ll be wed to His Lordship soon, anyway. You won’t have to worry about the toil of work anymore.”

You excuse yourself shortly after.

…

The days are a monotony. Even the fear is so commonplace you lose track of it. The daimyō grows impatient with you. He calls to you from the shelter of the awning, each time a little bolder, a little less demure about his intentions.

“You know, I have a bad habit of breaking my things when I get bored of them,” he tells you. “I wonder what other tricks you have to keep me entertained.”

You hang your clothes to dry every evening, and the drip becomes a steady cadence, like the ticking of a clock.

This is your life.

The rain.

The rain.

The rain.

…

The decree is issued that afternoon. Marriage.

You’re to report to the royal estate before sundown, along with everything you own. You will not be coming back.

You pack your bag; you take the road out of town. With the city at your back, you’ll have to pass through the outskirt woods. Then across the river, a dangerous gambit when the water is this high, but that just means you won’t be followed.

You can’t imagine the consequences if they catch you.

The path grows looser the further you go, the mud deep, silt as slick as ice. Arduous and exhausting. And dangerous, too.

You don’t realize your footing is off until it’s too late. You slip, land badly. You cry out before you can stop yourself.

You struggle to your knees, get one of your legs beneath you. A shock of pain has you tumbling down again.

You can’t stand. You can’t run.

Just moments after you fall, a shadow overtakes you. And a man, looming, familiar, crouches before you.

“I heard your voice,” he says. “Can you walk?”

You shake your head, timid, overwhelmed.

“Pardon me,” he says, before hefting you up into his arms.

The ease he does it with is startling. An alpha’s superior strength.

He brings you to a small hunting cabin. Clearly abandoned, but decent enough. It’s dry, and a small fire is going in the hearth.

There’s no furniture except for a rudimentary pallet, which he sets you down on.

“May I?” he asks, hands hovering above your stockinged leg.

He takes your silence as answer enough, unrolling the material gradually, trying not to disturb your injury. He inspects it briefly, pressing carefully. You wince, he stops.

He reaches for his bag, retrieving a small tin. “Your ankle is sprained,” he tells you. “You should return to town in the morning.”

“I need to leave,” you return absently. “I have to get past the bridge.”

He frowns.

“The bridge has collapsed. The river is impassable.” He had tried to leave that morning, only to face the same dilemma. He considers you leg. “Besides, you won’t make it very far.”

The reality of your situation dawns on you, a slow tide of dread.

You missed your chance. You’ve lost your only opportunity at freedom.

You yank out of his grasp, dragging yourself across the floor, to the corner on the far side of the cabin.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you—“

“No. No.” You gnash your teeth at him, feeling wild with fear, unable to see past the dark curtain of it. “I have to go. I can’t be trapped in here with you.”

He raises a hand, a placating gesture, but all you see is motion, canting toward you. An alpha. A threat.

You grab whatever is closest. You throw it at him.

The stick doesn’t even hit him, but that doesn’t stop you. You throw everything within reach.

He just waits for you to give up, but soon enough he realizes how stubborn you can be.

“Enough,” he says. His voice fills the shack, not loud, but indomitable. The undeniable command of an alpha. “I’m not going to hurt you. I would appreciate if you would offer me the same courtesy.”

You drop the stone you were going to hurl at him, suddenly incapable of aggression. You feel — groggy, but less terrified now. Very nearly calm.

His pheromones, you realize.

The notion that he’s using them on you should incense you, but you can’t muster it. You close your eyes, exhausted.

Eventually, after long minutes of tepid silence, he murmurs, “I was here first, you are aware of that, right?” His tone is almost — sullen.

And for some reason, that very human show of petulance is enough to thaw you.

You laugh.

You can’t stop. You laugh so hard it’s hardly laughter anymore. It’s so intense it makes your ribs hurt, brings tears to your eyes.

It feels like the first time you’ve been able to think clearly in weeks.

When you finally calm to a few soft hiccups, you lay down and throw your arms out. Passive.

“Alright, swordsman,” you say, “Fix me.”

He’s slow to approach you, cautious of another rock coming at him. But you remain still.

His touch is gentle, so soft it’s like he’s barely handling you at all. He retrieves the tin of salve you kicked out of his hand, and begins to apply it. It’s cool, slightly astringent. Beneath that, the scent of wisteria.

His fingers are just as warm as the rest of him.

It’s over before you can get used to the sensation of him touching you. He pulls away, returns the tin to his bag. “That will help with the swelling. You should still avoid putting weight on it until it heals.”

“Thank you,” you force yourself to say.

You think you hear him chuckle.

…

Night blooms, full and dark.

Despite your anxiousness, the waiting has grown tedious. Unbearably so.

“Is there anything in that bag to alleviate boredom?”

He glances at you for a moment. Hesitating.

Finally he reaches inside, pulls out a small binding. He passes it to you.

A book of poems. You recognize the shape of the sentences, some of the words. You wonder what use a swordsman has for literature, but the swordsman is full of surprises evidently.

Th pages are worn, the edges soft from thumbing.

“I can’t read,” you say. You look at him. Expectantly.

You hold the book out. He takes it, slowly, gingerly.

He reads.

He’s not much of a performer, although you didn’t expect him to be. It’s clear he’s not used to reading aloud, but he knows these passages well. He’s tone is even, with little inflection. The words come out perfectly paced.

They’re love poems. Not flowery or decadent, but earnest, gentle.

It seems at odds with what you know of him, what you’ve assumed from his status, both as a rōnin and an alpha. You’re not sure what to make of him anymore, how to reconcile the image you built of him in your head and everything you’ve witnessed here.

His swords are leaned against the wall beside him, sure proof of a history of violence.

The question comes, unbidden. “Have you ever killed someone?”

He pauses, glances at you. He searches your face for something, the fear that should accompany those words. But your expression is blank.

Silence, fraught with the tense memory of how you ended up here. What were you running from? Why? He must understand, to some extent. No one reaches desperation without pretext.

“Yes,” he says, simply.

“If I asked you to kill someone,” you murmur. “If I paid you…”

The implication feels enormous within the tight confines of the cabin.

“I don’t believe that’s what you want.”

“What do I want?”

“To not be put in a position where you have to make that kind of decision.”

That makes something in your chest feel tight, on the verge of snapping. Another thing you can’t wrap your head around. Another emotion you can’t name. Uncomfortable, but not frightening. Not like before.

You feel displaced, unmoored.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I’m not being nice,” he says. “You need help. I’m in a position to provide it.”

And that seems wrong to you. Just because someone has the means doesn’t mean they’ll offer them, certainly not freely. Especially not when someone is a such a burden.

“I’ve never met an alpha who’s kind to an omega just for the sake of it,” you say despite his denial.

He mulls that over for a moment, head cocked as he decides how to respond.

“I didn’t know you were an omega until tonight,” he says, quietly. “I had my suspicions, but…”

“Were my bountiful charms not enough to tip you off?” You snort at his blank expression, too polite to disrespect you with an answer. “Why now?”

“Your scent. It’s…subtle. Easy to miss, especially under these circumstances.”

“What do I smell like?”

He smiles, for the first time since you met him. It softens his severe features, makes him look younger. Less world-weary. “You smell like rain.”

He continues reading as the sky continues to churn, until you can hardly keep your eyes open, just barely holding on to the soft thread of words.

“Sleep,” he says gently. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Despite yourself, you believe him.

[r0-boat]

WHB Kings with audio accounts

Back on my audio account bullshit

Cw: NSFW, mentions of darker content but not specific, whb is its own trigger warning lol, but also some silly things (My bad a lot of silly things)

Satan

"boyfriend beats you over the head with a metal pipe till you fall asleep.♥️" "Killing you sexually then killing you again"

His account is not serious. And the funny thing is that some devils would actually listen to it while they fall asleep.

The only other thing he posts seriously is ramble faps. His mic is god-awful You don't even know how these people listen to this shit but he's actually proud of the work he does. His favorite thing to do is making his own sound effects All his sound effects are 100% made by him 'organically grown' as he calls it. And by listening some of these audios you are terrified and don't want to ask what he has done.

Surprisingly he is really good at acting... As soon as he gets a better Mic his stuff somehow gets infinitely better.

Mammon

He firmly believes that humans and devils have a fantasy of wanting to be owned and he is there to fulfill that fantasy because he does in fact own everyone. Majority of his contents is some kind of script where he owns you in some way. All pictures provided to his audios are real pictures taken by a professional photographer. Some even have motherfucking animation.

And just a low low price of $2,000 a month you can access this content (Bimet's fault) But don't worry he sells each individual audio for hundreds of dollars. He considers this cheap.

He's one of the biggest audio accounts on the platform. Having one of his audios is considered a luxury, You're getting your money's worth from the ambience to the voice acting to how often he posts Oh boy. Each audio is an hour of content all good story like a damn movie.

His audios are far more than just smut They are works of art in his eyes. And those "works of art"are probably sold in the Tartaros Black market.

Leviathan

The only normal one. Hard to believe, But if he wants to do something he wants to do it right. He wants to blow out the competition stealing other ideas and making them better in his eyes.

He only started doing this because he caught you listening to some devil you found making a boyfriend audio and he was jealous. The only voice you should be listening to is his! He starts actually liking it however because people praise him for his beautiful voice and moans.

His audios have a lot of degrading a lot of roleplay fantasy where he is of course everything he wants to be. However a lot of his content are heavily influenced by you.

You talk about a singer you liked? Is next audio is a role play where he is a singer and you are his groupie. An anime character from that specific game? He will research the game make his own character based on himself and put himself in it for an audio!

Beelzebub

He has two types of audio. Food mukbangs is one of them. However the other type is Pure sin. A Beel audio can pleasure you just as much as he can in person.

Filled with dark content because he's fulfilling his darker desires desires he can't really fulfill with you because you are a human. But in these little fantasies he can do whatever he wants and imagine anyone he wants.

He does not add sound effects but his voice alone is sinful enough to get you wanting more. He will become too powerful if he starts adding fuck noises.

His mukbangs are just him eating different here He eats food with another devil and they talk kind of like a podcast.

Lucifer

Lucifer's audios are almost entirely dominant. He has a growing user base that wants to see him whimper and he does not want to feed them.

A lot of Lucifer's content stems from religious trauma corruption kink kinda stuff. Corrupted priest, to him as an incubus corrupting you.

He does have softer content He tries to keep NSFW and sfw equal numbered, and that content rages from weddings to honeymoon to first dates anything sweet enough to melt your soul.

He prioritizes telling a story more than anything else

[starsoftheeye]

TMAGP 18 Reaction

Pre-Episode

The tags of this episode are worrying me

Based on the tags and the title I think this episode is gonna have something about Alice maybe investigating whatever she saw, or at least being reminded of it

Pre-Statement

Alice!!

Teddy!!

He didn't recognise her? What does that mean

Only faintly?

Creepy basement nightmare factory is a good name for it

ALICE THINKS CELIAS HOT??? PLEASE SAMALICELIA HAS TO BECOME A THING ATP

aw

Sam and Lena hi

pffft im loving lena more and more with each episode

no celia :(

oh no is jack okay??

"it"??? alice and lena can bond over their inability to talk normally about babies lmao

Statement

oooh augustus statement

i cant remember if willow tree close is a name we recognise but i cant find anything on it on the wiki

wdym "i hope she stays silent"??? what does that mean!!

oh thats what that means

shes just built different its fine

wait thats like the lady alice saw. is this a common occurrence?

omg she walked for so long her feet broke and she died of starvation

now im really starting to believe the "talking dead victims are from the fear domains in tma" theory bc how else can you explain this

"can i have a cigarrette" guy from tma?

wait what was that noise. thats the first time theres been a proper noise separating the reader from sounding more human to their usual monotone voice isnt it?

Post-Statement

sam maybe... dont talk to the recently traumatised woman about the case that is extremely similar to her traumatising experience

alice you're deflecting with humour isn't working we know you're traumatised babe

alice youre way too nonchalant about this

sam honey i get you wanna know things but please stop

curiosity killed the cat

oooh is gwen gonna tell them?

omg she actually is

things are happening so fast im very worried

see i'm kinda hoping she doesnt mention mr bonzo because i think if my coworker told me that the weird tv mascot who liked to prank ppl in the 90s was removing limbs then i would think they were insane

oh god she is gwen honey thats the least plausible example you could ever give. like yeah lady mowbray is a human but shes been involved in a case and celia met her too shes a better example to give

oh god i hate the "someone doesnt get believed when telling others about something supernatural" trope but i hate the "someone gets laughed at when telling others about something supernatural" trope even more

samama "doesnt quite get when to quit" khalid everyone

oh gwen honey :(((

"so... that was weird" bro you just made your coworker cry maybe apologise????

i am not liking sam rn im sorry

alice gnot wanting to interact with gwen rn is killing me since shes the only one who could understand any of it but she refuses to get involved and its killing me. girlie you know its real

GEORGIE AND JACK OMG

CELIAAAA HI

oh does georgie not know about celias little sleepwalking/teleporting habit

nvm she might be about to

lmaoo georgie ilysm

[nerves-nebula]

Incoming rant about a story from the 1960s

One of my classmates adapted a story called Harrison Bergeron and. Well. I hated it. What kind of ayn rand incredibles shit did I just read.

Like as someone who doesn’t forget disabled people actually exist and are treated like trash’s by society and our government and have had to fight for the meager resources they’re (sometimes) given, and who remembers that not everyone is middle class or white, it was truly insufferable to read. Like what’s the point, that we’ll never be perfectly and exactly equal?

Thank god someone made a story about that. You know whose had it too easy? The socially ostracized and people who fight for social change. Man you really showed them the dangers of equality.

It’s also just stupid. In what world would a loud noise stop you from thinking, wouldn’t you just get hearing loss? Wouldn’t you just immediately go back to thinking about something the moment the sound passes??

I get that it’s a hyperbolic dystopia but what is it satirizing, the concept of equality? BOOO, five year old idea of fairness ass story.

If it was about people using the concept of equality to further their own stuff that’d be kind of better but the whole thing reeks of this awful cynicism and essentialism about how some people are just Better than others, and I truly can’t stand that.

If the idea is that you shouldn’t sacrifice individual rights for a mythical version of total equality then the story falls flat on its face out of ignorance of any real world issues, If it was about not giving up your rights to the government, then what’s with this whole “equalizing the smart and pretty” nonsense. Why not pull from how governments ACTUALLY get away with stripping you of rights using supposedly righteous causes.

Like the whole premise is “wouldn’t it be awful if we were FORCED to be HANDICAPPED for being too smart or hot.” And like. You’re not exactly going against the grain of popular society here. People generally treat those they think are hot or smart better than those they think are dumb and ugly.

All this does is argue that actually the status quo is good and intelligence and beauty are solidly set things. Like it talks about putting bags over hot peoples faces, but never talks about anything that would actually be helpful like.. wheelchair ramps. It all superficial shit.

If the idea is that differences should be celebrated- why is it only differences that people in society already overhype like beauty and intelligence. You’re not celebrating anyone that our society doesn’t already celebrate.

Am I really supposed to feel for a guy who proclaims he’s an emperor and a great ruler and super hot and smart? If not, why did this comic portray him like he’s someone we’re supposed to root for???

I know it’s from the 1960s but you know who ISNT from the 1960s? My classmate! So what exactly am I looking at here.

And for future reference I’m only talking about the comic adaptation my classmate made, I haven’t read the thing it’s based off of. It just seems really obnoxious.

[jelliezellie]

I thought about more of prompts for some Levi request so here am i again, bc your writing is damn good

Can I have Levi and reader dancing in a ballroom like to charm the politics ? Two good looking people dancing together so they can influence the politics to support expeditions and all

Its been on my brain for days now 🌸

(The reader can wear anything honestly :>)

A/N: YES. oh my god, in my book, I just finished writing a ballroom chapter and I’ve been craving more so yes yes yes tysm for requesting this. Also, I appreciate the compliment!! <3 It means the world to me!

CW: A little alcohol. Very tiny. Also, slight suggestiveness (if you can call it that) towards the end? 

Super fast backstory:

Y/n is the prince/princess/heir to the throne and they’ve talked a few times outside of the ballroom because Levi asked for more resources from the king. Y/n said they’d need to convince the king together, so they’re putting on a little show for the entire kingdom. The show? Captain Levi captures the heart of the heir to the throne.

It could also be up to interpretation, but that’s what I have planned. Sorry if it’s not the perfect response to the request!!

You entered the ballroom behind your father, the king, and looked around. The chandelier hung like a cluster of stars on the painted ceilings of the castle and you couldn’t help but stare in awe at the lighting. The band’s music reached a crescendo as the king entered and you looked up at your father. He nodded, a silent signal of your permission to dance. 

You tried not to trip over your feet in excitement as you rushed down the stairs. You scanned the crowd for Captain Levi, trying to avoid the group of people that flocked around you. One man said “You owe me a dance,” and you nearly vomited. 

“Where is the Captain?!” You panicked, trying not to make a noise as you silently declined the offer to dance. 

A gloved hand grabbed your arm and tore you away from the crowd. “You don’t look too good, Your Highness,” Levi grumbled, glaring at the crowd. A wave of relief washed over you. The excitement of your presence in the ballroom died down fairly quickly and what rose from the ashes was astonishment. 

“Is that Captain Levi?!”

“With royalty?”

You smiled at him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Captain, it’s good to see you again.”

His brow quirked up, but other than that, his face remained expressionless. “Right. Let’s just get this over with.” He held his hand out to you. “Is your father watching?”

You looked behind Levi and saw your father glaring at the two of you. You nodded and took Levi’s hand. “He is.”

The Captain took you to the middle of the dance floor and gave the band a look. They began playing a slow song and you wrapped your arms around Levi’s neck. “I take it this isn’t really your scene?” You guessed by the coldness in his eyes. 

He gave you a brief nod as he delicately placed his hand on your lower back. “I’m doing this for the Survey Corps, so don’t get any ideas. This isn’t going to be a regular thing.”

Your eyes narrowed. “If you hate it so much, why’d you come?”

“I just told you. For the Survey Corps.”

You sighed. “I meant, why you? Isn’t the Commander capable?”

Levi shook his head, twirling you. “He’s too formal. Everyone would expect him to dance with you.”

“And you?”

He glared at you. “Nobody even expected me to come. It makes a greater impression.”

You grinned. “You seem to be enjoying yourself, though. You’re very good at dancing, Captain. How’d you learn?”

His eyes flashed to the side and you followed his gaze. Before he could say anything, you spotted Hange Zoe. You tried to stifle your laughter. “You practiced with Hange?”

“I never said that,” he snapped quietly.

“But you looked at them. Are they a good dancer?”

“They’re irrelevant,” he muttered dismissively. Yet, you could see his cheeks turn slightly pink as he twirled you again. 

You tilted your head as you looked at him again. “So, Captain, what do you like to do for fun?”

“I don’t have fun.”

Your brows rose as your frowned, unsatisfied. “Tonight, you do.”

“I do not.”

You intertwined your fingers with his. “You do.” You held his hand, practically dragging him to a tower of champagne glasses. You took two, handing one to Levi. “This is how you have fun, Captain.” You clinked your glass against his and the pink drink bubbled as it ran down your throat. You gave him a grin when you saw him sip on it. 

“Drinking? Really, Your Highness?” He questioned. “Have some class.”

“This is class.”

“If you get drunk, I’m not carrying you to your room.”

You tilted your head, a smile growing on your face. “What would you do instead?” 

“Leave you on the floor.” He turned away but you placed your hand on his shoulder. He glared at you, but you continued smiling.

“Do you want to dance again?” You looked up at your father, who glowered. “The King seems rather unimpressed so far.”

Levi followed your stare. “Unimpressed? Why? We danced.”

“I dance with a lot of people.”

“Dance with fewer people.”

“Why? Are you jealous?” You teased. 

He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “Jealous of everyone who got to stay in the barracks.”

You shook your head, ignoring his comment. “We need to really impress him. We need to do something that’ll get us on his side,” you explained with a grin as you schemed. 

Levi frowned. “I don’t like that look on your face.” He stepped back.

“Get used to it, Captain. We’re going to kiss.”

His mouth fell open. “Absolutely not.”

“Do you want resources? A better chance beyond the walls?”

“Don’t question me now, brat.”

You crossed your arms. “Don’t call me a brat; I’m not one of your cadets.”

Levi nodded. “Yeah. You’re worse.” He pulled you to the dance floor again, making uncertain eye contact with you. “At least my cadets don’t flirt with me. You’re worse than any brat.” Despite his words, he was closer to you as you danced to this song.

You could smell his cologne. It was fancy; it smelled like sandalwood and… tea? A hint of soap? Whatever it was, he was going all out for this ball. You leaned closer to him. “Is the King watching?”

He looked up, then looked back at you. “Yes.” He pressed a hand to the back of your head. “Are you sure about this?”

“Positive.” 

Levi sighed and looked into your eyes, then at your lips as if he had to reassure himself of every feature on your face. He looked back at your eyes, then pulled you closer by your waist and gently pressed his lips against yours.

Your eyes widened—you weren’t actually expecting him to do it. Still, the softness of his lips drove you wild. His gloved hand on your waist nearly made you melt.

He pulled away awkwardly, looking to the side. “Happy?”

You weren’t sure if it was the champagne or his lips, but you giggled. “Incredibly.” Levi’s focus avoided your eyes. You saw your father staring at you two with an alarmed expression. “I think it’s working, by the way.”

Levi nodded quickly, looking back at your father. “God, I hope so. You can convince your father now, right?”

“I suppose so. But he’ll want to meet with you, I’m sure.”

“Thought so.” He looked at you again, searching your eyes. You wondered what it was he was searching for. Embarrassment? Regret? Or maybe, just maybe, he was searching for hope. In any case, he pulled you close again, then whispered in your ear so you’d feel his warm breath against your skin, “Would you like to meet me in the gardens beforehand?” 

Your eyes widened. “You really liked that kiss, huh?”

“I think it could use some work. With enough practice, though,” he paused and his lips quirked into a very faint smile, “maybe I’d come to another ball.”

[ethereousdelirious]

Goooood morning, V.ax anon!

This is a little shorter than I wanted, but it's done! I sincerely hope you like it!!!

For the rest of y'all: cw for emeto

Fate— the nature of it…. Ultimate fate, all of them dead. Everyone Vax cared about, one at a time, and he—

He could do nothing but watch.

With last rites still ringing in his ears, Vax jerked awake. Darkness met him, and cold sweats, and— where was Keyleth? He shouldn't be so cold, not if she was there. He sat up, reached out for her, hands shaking… Yes, there.

Her body heat warmed his palm, but it wasn't as reassuring as it should have been. A wave of nausea and dread washed over Vax and his stomach clenched involuntarily.

“Vax?” The sound of Keyleth shifting against the covers filtered through the ringing in his ears. “Are you okay? You're kinda hurting me.”

“Sorry, Kiki,” he breathed, and clenched his eyes shut against another wave of dizziness. He couldn't… Couldn't catch his breath, couldn't— It was like that first moment after getting stabbed, that little moment between the adrenaline and the pain. This horrible, sickening dizziness that slowly gave way to the narcotic of blood loss. But this wasn't going away. With every passing second, the room still spun, his heart still pounded, and his nausea got steadily worse.

No…

That was going to cause problems in its own right.

“Vax?” Keyleth was holding him now. When had that happened? Then gentle weight of her, usually so calming, was nothing but unbearable pressure on his back, compressing his lungs. He couldn't bear to shake her off so he breathed deeper, faster. “Vax, what's wrong?”

“I, I, ah.” He didn't have the breath to explain himself. “Nightmare.” Another wave of nausea doubled him over.

She stroked his hair, gently, gently. She was always so delicate with him, so light. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Gods, it was… He couldn't stop shaking. “C-can't.”

“What do you mean you can't?” Her hands stilled for a moment and Vax keened at the loss of contact. “I'm going to make a light, okay?”

He didn't care. Gods, he didn't care. Just needed it to stop.

A gentle glow painted his eyelids red and Keyleth made a sad noise at the sight of him. “Oh, Vax.”

“I can't—” he started, and choked on a dry retch.

“Are you— hang on, I'll get a, a bin or something.”

No.

He wasn't going to get sick. He'd ride this out to the bitter end, because he just wasn’t… He couldn't.

“Keyleth,” he choked, but that was all he could manage before another dry retch forced him to clamp his teeth together. Why wouldn't it stop?

“Do you want me to stay?” she asked, touching his arm. He nodded and she wrapped her arms around him, gentle as always. “Oh, Vax, you're shaking. Was it really bad?”

He nodded again. All the fear, all the dread, it had gone right to his stomach, and it seemed his body wouldn't be content until he expelled it. His stomach turned over and his abdomen clenched and Keyleth whispered his name, her fingers in his hair.

“Vax, I think you're going to be sick.”

“No,” he murmured into her neck, a plea for mercy.

“But you—”

He pulled back and looked at her, and a few cold tears ran down his cheeks. “I can’t.”

She cupped his face, wiping the tears away with her thumb.”It’s okay! It’ll just be really awful for a second, and then you’ll feel better. Probably.” Her smile faltered for a moment and she pulled away. “I'm gonna get a bin, okay? I'll be right here.”

Vax’s stomach lurched again, and this time, hot bile teased the back of his throat. “Kiki…” Not a plea, but a warning. “Hurry.”

Denial was clearly getting him nowhere. Vax swallowed convulsively and curled in on himself. Useless tears burned in his eyes. Keyleth thrust something cold and metallic into his hands and he clutched at it, some needlessly ornate wastebasket. The metal detailing stabbed into his palms and tears pooled in the bottom of it.

“I can't,” Vax said, his voice breaking, “I really can't.” His stomach churned in direct contradiction and he choked down a gag.

Keyleth’s fingers spread over his back and she rubbed the length of his spine, neck to waist. “You'll feel better after,” she said softly. “I'll be right here.”

Not forever. Not forever. The Raven Queen had promised, he’d see them all— he’d see all his friends to their graves.

That thought alone was enough to make him gag, and this time, there was no swallowing down the rush of hot bile.

Vax closed his eyes and heaved, coughing on the remnants of his dinner and the sobs clawing their way up his throat between the vomiting. Gods, the way it burned in his chest— the heat of it.

All dead.

Through it all, Keyleth’s clever fingers danced in his hair, drawing soft lines across his temples and scalp, pulling his hair back. “It’s okay, Vax,” she murmured to him, her breath cool on his burning cheek.

He spat and gave a great, shuddering sigh. “Is it over?”

“How do you feel?”

“Not good,” Vax said. But not… not as bad. “Better,” he amended.

Keyleth wrapped her arm around him, pulled him as close as she could without jostling him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Vax took a deep breath, anything to center himself, and the vestiges of bitter bile seared on his tongue. “Could we maybe get some water?”

“Both of us?” Keyleth asked.

Vax nodded. “I don't… don’t to leave you. Don’t want you to leave me.”

Keyleth settled her chin on his shoulder. “Okay,” she said, and kissed his cheek. “We’ll go together “

[frozenjokes]

Signing Back In, Apparently - 4

Prev/Next

Everyone heard Grian’s scream.

It was loud, and not the normal, shrill loudness of a scream you were hearing from far away, but loud like it was in your head, or like it was coming from right behind you. Mumbo was talking to Impulse when they both heard it, and he instinctively reached to cover his ears as it pounded through his head. When Mumbo finally opened his eyes, Impulse was looking around, tense and alert.

“What was that?” Impulse breathed, the substance stolen from his voice.

“I don’t..” but before Mumbo could finish, there was another, far more recognizable yell. “Scar.”

Neither ghost said another word before running to the tavern, pushing themselves through the ceiling to get to Scar’s room. Scar hadn’t stopped screaming. Pearl was already inside, face somehow paler than he thought possible for an ethereal form. Mumbo probably looked similarly once he saw Scar’s body. There was blood everywhere , seemingly in impossible places like the walls and ceiling as well as all over the floor, and it looked like most of it was coming from his ears and eyes. Scar himself was seizing- or just shaking maybe- but it was horrifically violent, so much so, Mumbo couldn’t stand to keep looking

That’s when he saw the ouija board. “Oh shit. Where- where is Grian?”

Pearl and Impulse didn’t have time to answer before Oli burst in, let out quite the shriek of his own, and ran the opposite direction, calling for Sausage and Martyn. Clearly, Sausage had already been on his way, pushing past Oli before stopping almost immediately in his tracks once he saw Scar.

“Oh- oh no- Scar! Can you hear me buddy? It’s going to be okay, you’re going to be okay- Martyn! Help me carry him.”

“Got it.” Martyn said, stepping forward beside Sausage. Mumbo hadn’t even seen him come in. Scar’s body relaxed slightly at their touch. Sausage noticed, brightening up and continuing to console Scar as he and Martyn carried him away. Mumbo couldn’t stop staring. He nearly followed them, but a gentle hand on his shoulder kept him still.

“We have to find Grian first. Something bad happened here, obviously. We need to make sure he’s okay.” Impulse’s voice cut through his own turmoil, grounding him.

“He couldn’t have gone very far, let’s check downstairs,” Pearl said, backing out of Scar’s room, but after seeing the stairs crowded with Kestrels, dipped through the floor instead. Impulse waited with Mumbo for a moment before following her, giving him a look that said come whenever you’re ready. Mumbo returned it with a grateful nod, taking the chance to linger a bit longer. His eyes fell back on the ouija board. No, he should go.

When he joined Impulse and Pearl, they were both searching the lounge area, so Mumbo went to the bar to cover more ground. As he drifted past the bottles, he saw glimpses of his own reflection, distorted, but still him. God, he looked terrible.

“Grian? Are you here?” His call was greeted with a throaty meow, and Mumbo turned to see Jellie stretching at his legs. “Aw, did you really sleep through all that? You know, Scar probably needs you right now, he’s in quite the state.” Mumbo bent down to pet her, only to be face to face with something- someone - in the cubby below the bar. Mumbo yelped, falling back onto his butt against the cabinets on the other side. The figure across from him tried to scoot further into the cubby, but it was already as far back as it could go. Mumbo saw scratches in the wood from its claws. Mumbo looked back to its face to see its head (beak, maybe?) open in a fashion that seemed quite gruesome.

“ Are you ?” it parroted back, in a somewhat distorted version of Mumbo’s own voice. When it tried to continue, the only sound that came out was an awful scratching noise, not unlike nails on a chalkboard.

“Oh god- Grian? What happened? Are you okay?”

Impulse and Pearl looked up, both hurrying over.

“Trying to fight. Familiar. Dead,” it was Scar’s voice Grian used this time, the lines of his form starting to shift and distort.

“Grian, I don’t- calm down, I don’t know what’s happening but we can fix this- Scar isn’t here, it’s okay,” Mumbo reached out a hand to touch him, but Grian screeched, rearing back and lashing out with his clawed feet.

“ Calm down ,” Grian hissed, Mumbo’s own voice polluted with vehement poison. Pearl pushed between them, wrapping Grian in a tight hug before he could fight her, as if she might be able to hold his rippling form together. Mumbo found himself shrinking back, halfway through the cabinet wall.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice hardly audible.

“We aren’t going to let anyone hurt you. I promise,” Pearl said, rubbing his back in small circles.

Grian let out a screeching wail, impossibly loud, but collapsed into her, sinking in like water. Pearl looked back to Mumbo and Impulse, deep concern in her eyes. Impulse squeezed into the cubby next to Grian without another word, taking his clawed hand into his own. Mumbo found himself frozen in place. At least it looked like Grian was starting to take a more solid form.

“I think I should go,” he whispered, fingers curling against the tile floor. Grian’s body shifted, and Mumbo couldn’t tell if he was just adjusting, or trying to look at him. He didn’t see any eyes.

“I’m sorry. I promise. Don’t be Scar. Promise,” his voice was a mangled combination of Mumbo’s and Pearl’s, but he continued using Scar's voice, “Play the game smarter. Know better.” Pearl and Impulse gave Mumbo a confused look. Mumbo tried his best to return it.

“Don’t worry about me, Grian. Focus on yourself, I’ll be back soon. I promise not to do anything.. extreme. I just need to know what happened.”

Grian responded with a low rumbling noise, which Mumbo assumed was discontent. Mumbo nodded to Pearl and Impulse, who looked unsure, and left before they could ask him to stay. There wasn’t any room anyway; only so many ghosts could fit in one cubby. That’s what he told himself at least.

Mumbo made his way through the streets of the Kestrel’s island, making a beeline to the infirmary. Scar ended up here quite often, so he and the others often visited to laugh at him. But even if he hadn’t known where to go, it would have been easy to follow the chorus of voices erupting from the tent.

“You guys are just overreacting, I feel greaaaat!” Scar said, words ever so slightly slurred.

“You feel good because of the drugs, Scar. You’re a complete mess, otherwise. What the hell did you do to piss off your ghosts, that bad ?” Martyn countered, but Scar didn’t seem all too concerned.

“Ghosts. You’re obsessed with ghosts, Martyn. You’re all obsessed with ghosts. There’s no ghosts. I just had a leetle seizure, that’s all. Happens to the best of us. Howabout I go back to my room now.”

“Scar, people definitely don’t just start bleeding out of every hole in their face randomly. Hey- come on- stop trying to get up.”

Mumbo turned the corner to see Sausage struggle to keep Scar in his cot while Martyn stepped forward to help him. Scar’s eyes were covered with bandages, slightly bloodied.

“I’ll stop getting up when you stop talking about ghosts!” Scar put a hand on Martyn’s face, earning a muffled yelp.

“You know what, fine, he’s being impossible right now, so let’s just let him go back. I don’t want to deal with it,” Martyn scowled, prying Scar’s hand off his face.

“He can’t see and he can barely walk, I really don’t think it’s a good idea to leave him alone. Do you think the guy Oli called to clean is done yet?”

“Probably not. It’s fine. I’m not squeamish, I’ll just put him to bed and mop the floor real fast. In the morning, Oli’s guy can do the rest.”

Sausage made a face, giving Scar a concerned look, “I guess I won’t stop you. You wouldn’t catch me getting my hands dirty like that, no thank you. You and Scar still have that attitude about you I suppose.”

“I’ll clean it myself, don't worryaboutit,” Scar threw his arms in the air, and Martyn rolled his eyes, going to pick him up. Scar giggled as he was lifted into the air, cheering Martyn’s name.

“You owe me,” Martyn grunted, carrying him away. Scar made train noises as they went. There he was, still smiling. Still grinning, despite what must have been a horrific experience that had happened less than thirty minutes before. And sure, Scar was high as a kite, but Mumbo was sure nothing would have changed without the drugs. It was so like Scar to refuse help. To smile, and make everything harder for everyone else.

“What the hell are you afraid of?”

No one heard Mumbo speak. Of course they didn’t. But saying it outloud cemented something inside him; a deep anger, maybe even an insecurity. It didn’t matter. He had to know. Scar couldn’t die before he found out.

So he followed them. He watched Martyn argue with Oli about a mop, (“What kind of establishment doesn’t own a mop?!” “Why do you care about it getting dirty?? That’s what it’s for !”) he watched Sausage tuck Scar so tightly into bed, he couldn’t move, and he watched Scar talk endlessly for at least a half hour, saying nothing at all. And then, finally, the lights went out. Finally, Scar dropped his smile.

“I’m just gonna say one thing, Mumbo Jumbo,” Scar slurred, making Mumbo jump. “Augh. You probably just made such a silly face and I missed it. I hope you’re there. My back hurts so I’m assuming you’re there. Lemme get this stupid things off.” Scar struggled with his sheets, wriggling until he freed his arms. Mumbo stared. He wasn’t really sure what else to do. Scar pulled at the bandages at his eyes, and Mumbo cringed away when he saw them. Even Scar’s good eye looked awful; red and irritated, but the other half of his face looked gunky and horrid.

“You should put that back on,” Mumbo said, not that Scar could hear him. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if Scar could ever see him.

“Got you.” Scar pointed, a goofy smile falling across his face. Genuine. Mumbo didn’t like the way that felt. “Wow you’re blurry. Are you talking? We can talk. Wanna talk? I wanna talk. Oh! I remember. The thing I had to tell you.”

Mumbo made wide circles with his hand, hoping Scar would get the message to spit it out already.

“Are you ready? It’s important, you better be listening.”

“Go on.”

“…Grian started it.”

Mumbo groaned, turning around to leave. This wasn’t going to go anywhere.

“Hey! No no! Don’t go! Don’t you want to hear about it? I GHOST PUNCHED him. It was INCREDIBLE. I was like, yeah, I shouldn’t do this, but it would be really funny if I ghost punched Grian. And then I did and it was SO COOL. Grian did not think it was that cool. I may have provoked him a little bit, but trust me, he deserved it. Where are you going!”

[shadowpunk]

15th August, 2011 (2 hours before)

The air was hot and dry as Jasper was walking down the decrepit drive way, followed by his two younger siblings. Summers in Oklahoma had always been brutal. A single droplet of sweat slowly rolled down his temple and the teenager wiped almost annoyed over his face. „For fuck sake, this heat is killing me!“ he cursed out, more to himself than to his siblings. Jasper could feel their eyes on him and without even checking he knew what expression they would have. How he could read their worry for him in their eyes like an open book, their apologetic smiles on their lips. And of course the pity. Jasper hated it. Not because he didn’t want them to care about him. He was more than glad that at least two people in this town saw him for more than being the weird outsider. But he wanted to feel like their big brother. Not like a beaten up street dog. „How is your back, Jas?“ Eriks voice cut through the silence and Jasper gave him a quick glance over the shoulder. How the hell did he know about that?

(major trigger warning for physical abuse, please don’t read any further if this is a triggering topic for you)

„But the one who does not know and does things deserving punishment will be beaten with few blows. From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked,“ he could barely hear his mothers voice as he was leaning against the wall. Pain and adrenaline were rushing through his body, as the leather snapped over and over against the exposed skin of his back. His lips were pressed tightly together, trying to suppress any noise that tried to escape his mouth. The teenager closed his eyes. He often fantasized about getting back at his parents for what they were doing to him. How he would finally get the sweet revenge after enduring all the violent outbursts of his father. Pure hate had planted its seed years ago in the young boy and had grown over all the years. Had infected every fiber of his body, his thoughts. And it fueled him. „Let that be a lesson for you,“ his fathers voice interrupted the boys thoughts and he slowly opened his eyes. He simply nodded, his voice too weak and sore to actually say something. »What lesson is that supposed to be? That god doesn’t give a single fuck about me?«

„I have no idea what you’re talking about,“ the teenager replied and kicked a rusted can in front of him. He was about to give it another kick, when a sharp pain suddenly shot through his back. Jasper flinched as he shakily let some breath out of his mouth, trying his best to get over the pain that was now radiating through his whole body. „Stop lying to us! We know what father did last night, we heard you.“ Karlis voice trembled a bit but to his surprise she looked more angry than anything else, her hand still lifted in the air from the shove she had given him. Was she angry at him? He had tried his best to keep quiet. „Sorry,“ he mumbled as his eyes met the ground in front of his dirty shoes. They were way too young to be confronted with this and Jasper felt awful. Like he had failed to protect them. „It’s not your fault, you know that right?“ Erik had always been the calm and mature one. It was hard to believe that he was only 13. Jaspers vision became blurry as tears started to dwell up, so he quickly turned away. It was enough that they had to hear him last night, they don’t needed to see him crying too. Jasper was ashamed. Ashamed about his weakness, ashamed that he was doing such a poor job as their big brother, ashamed that he was who he was. He had to do better. „It’s alright guys, don’t worry about it,“ he eventually replied when his voice finally didn’t feel like breaking any moment anymore.

[to be continued]

[websterss]

𝐀/𝐍: Hope you enjoy it! <33

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

“Todd you need to calm down okay. Just breathe.” You placed your hands out in front of you trying to gain Todd’s attention. You had been the only girl in Prentisstown until Todd found Viola. The aftermath that came with finding her stressed him out. You were only trying to help him. You and Todd were in the midst of trying to find Viola to get out of Prentisstown, stuck in the forest making a plan. “Todd, quiet now, they’ll hear you!” You pleaded with sad eyes as his noise only grew.

“No no no no no.” He shook his head, grabbing at his hair.

“Aaron!” Manchee’s yelp was quiet and tense. You gave him a brief glance feeling your heart stop. You look around and find no one.

“There’s no one here Manchee, only Todd and I, buddy.” You bend down to pet him. Then turn back to Todd, who can’t tune out all the voices, all the memories that are taking over his headspace.

“Aaron.” He whimpers licking your hand

COWARD, COWARD, COWARD, CoWaRd, Coward, WARD, COWarD, COWARD COWARD.

YoU CaN’t SaVE HER. COWARD.

When Todd had gotten up from the floor he could feel how everything blurred and made him feel dizzy. Images within his noise sliding and pitching like static. All too fuzzy to comprehend. Everyone always told him how strong his noise was, but it never seemed like it was true until now. You hadn’t seen his noise become this big, become this loud.

“Todd, my voice okay, my voice. Drown them out.” You removed his fist from his hair, running your hands over the sides of his face that was scrunched up in pain. It was too much for him.

“We’ve practiced this before, remember?”

“It’s so loud!” He cried out in agony.

“I know, I know.” You cooed at  him. Both of you were kneeling to the ground.

“Aaron, Aaron.” Manchee tries gaining your attention again.

“Wanna know what I’m thinking?” You smiled remembering how it made Todd give you his attention every time you asked that question. He slowly opened his eyes. His noise was shouting awful and hurtful things Aaron and the rest of the boys in Prentisstown have said to him. 

“Yeah?” You nodded. “Okay, well today has been a hell of a day, but if I am being honest. Aaron can kiss my ass.” You chuckled, causing him to smile. The noise was still loud and present. “Yet I wouldn’t trade this day with you…meeting Viola. This is the most fun I’ve had in years.” You let a tear shed down your right cheek. “I’m scared too, for Viola, for us, for the future.” You looked down at your lap. “I know you hate that you can’t read my thoughts but I just-”

Todd had reached forward. Closing his eyes as he gripped your face and gave you a kiss. You were his only real friend. Who didn’t talk down on him, who hadn’t made fun of him for something growing up. You treated him like he was just Todd. You saw him, not the noise that clouded his mind. You saw past his internal thoughts, his confessions he didn’t mean to confess, you saw past that one time he told Ben he liked you.

Oh my god. Y/N….I JUST KISSED HER. KISSED HER. OH GOD, IS THIS REALLY HAPPENING? DOES SHE LIKE…LIKE ME BACK? I’M SO STUPID.

You pulled back from the kiss, pressing your head against his laughing at his noise. The distorted sound of his voice grew deeper, then back to its original sound.

“Y/n, does like you. She likes you very much.” You smiled looking into his eyes.

“You do?” Todd’s eyes grew wide.

SHE LIKES ME. HOLY CRAP, SHE LIKES ME, SHE REALLY LIKES ME.

You beamed as he tried to control his thoughts.

“That’s good to know, I’m really happy you do. You have no idea.” Todd shook his head.

“I’m glad!” You chuckled at the boy in front of you.

“Aaron, Aaron.” Manchee whimpers.

“Buzz off, Manchee!” Todd ushered him away with his hand.

[regalitics]

colbridge pharmaceuticals took up residence in one of the high-rise buildings amid the city, overlooking a large chunk of it due to its height. on very windy days the building would ever-so-often move with the wind, which didn't help anthony's fear of heights at all. it didn't help that his father had an office on the two-hundredth-something floor. he always sweated so much when he was up here, avoiding looking at the windows in fear of the earth-shattering feeling of gagging and the dizziness that might accumulate at his temples from looking out over the city or downwards. swallowing harshly, he found his mouth dry and took a sip of the lukewarm bottle of pellegrino that had been offered to him earlier, trying not to wince when the carbonation touched his tongue. god, he hated sparkling water.

the board meeting was concluding, and he subtly glanced at his watch for the sixth time in the last hour. he could go home after this, wash his hands of the corporate world for another day, fall into the book he was reading at home and try not to think of his ex for the rest of the night, maybe order some good takeout from the thai place he loved down the block. "we should talk about the position acquisition now by mister colbridge," all eyes were on him - including his father's severe gaze. trying not to shrink like a little boy who had been caught not paying attention to something crucial, anthony straightened in his seat. "how are you feeling about everything you've learned thus far, anthony?" gerald, from accounting, asked with a frown. he was the only one who ever seemed to care about what he was feeling - anthony wished he would stop asking.

it was time to turn on the charm, time to brush the insecurities away from their shoulders. "it's been enlightening, surely, gentlemen. you've all been an amazing help to me in the last year and i think, with fathers upcoming retirement, that i'll feel confident in the position." all of them - except CEO colbridge himself - looked pleased. anthony's father looked like he was disappointed, like his son had brought him a failing report card. anthony had never failed a subject in his life. dejected, anthony turned his attention to the next person who had begun talking, keeping his face pleasantly blank until the end of the meeting.

outside, a protest on big pharma raged on. anthony wished that he could join them but he was too busy selling his worth and his soul to the CEO himself. outside, he could barely hear himself think as he walked down the stairs from inside the building. summer was set to begin soon, and the heat of the sun bored down upon his shoulders as he walked, ignoring the protestors with their picket signs and their harsh questions and words. he blushed, ashamed, and hid his gaze from everyone. running into someone wasn't unprecedented as the crowd closed in on him as he came out but when he looked up, he felt... he felt like he was seeing her for the first time.

their hair was up in their signature style when something juicy went down, their hands were wrapped around their camera, ready to take pictures of subjects - maybe even him himself since he was so tied to this godforsaken company. if they captured a picture of him now, he would be standing with a look of complete awe and surprise echoed on his features both at how beautiful they looked and the surprise of seeing them again. his heart thundered in his chest, and he was growing overwhelmed, his palms sweaty at the noise of the crowd and the way people seemed to be closing in on his space. a man spit at his feet, and he shied away, recognized as someone who might be able to make a difference and just... wouldn't. the same people he used to fight with mj day in and day out. his tie that he wore felt like it was strangling him at the moment. @mjwallace

[vergess]

this is a personal af question that you do not need to answer publicly or at all esp. bc its for fanficish writing purposes but anyway so like how DO you, personally at least, deal with episodes of psychosis? because google tells me that the go to needs to be antipsychotics but 1. the context is a character who does not have regular access to them anyway 2. every one i have looked at has GOD AWFUL PERMANENT SIDE EFFECTS that seem to be almost guaranteed to happen? and my doctor oc would not subject that to anybody. the usual psychosis symptoms i write in my current rps are post-ictal and postpartum psychosis specifically because getting information about that from people who actually HAVE THE CONDITIONS is easy, and there seem to be other methods of dealing with them without antipsychotics (plus, you know, magic dnd for one, and pokemon psychic bs for the other) but finding information on how people with other forms of psychosis (in this case, schizotypal ftr) deal with it from their own perspective is almost impossible? it's ALL ableist bullshit from doctors which is why i am hesitant to trust the idea of "antipsychotics are the only way" :/ even reddit is not helpful here lol and i want to get this right? i know it's just tumblr rp/ao3 fanfic/discord rp that nobody important will read but me and my friends are trying to NOT be ableist shitbags on purpose you know?

Boy I really just don't answer tough asks over the winter months, huh.

I started keeping a closer eye on how media that I otherwise recommend depicts psychosis since getting this ask, and I'm disappointed to announce that over the last two months only two (2) pieces of media have been Normal About Psychosis.

So, the first thing to remember when writing a Psycho is: WE ARE WHOLE ASS ADULTS WITH ADULT BRAINS OKAY, we're not small children lost in a fantasy. We're not violent monsters out for blood. We are people who sometimes see, hear, etc things that aren't really there.

Writing a psychotic character competently isn't about curing them, or even about reducing their symptoms. It's about showing how they cope with those symptoms while carrying on with their daily lives.

I'm currently on the lowest possible dose of antipsychotic right now, and I will say two things about that. 1) the meds make reality checks and other coping skills MUCH more effective. 2) Even at a low dose, abstract and creative thinking are hindered. I don't feel hindered; but I have a 24 year long writing portfolio that says I sure as shit am hindered.

Whether a character will benefit from going on meds is going to be a balancing act. But since you aren't actually looking for meds advice, lets talk about those Other Coping Skills.

Broadly, I would split my skills into three categories: stuff for hallucinations, stuff for delusions, and stuff for dissociation.

So, first off, reality checking is my #1 go to for hallucinations.

You pick this skill up pretty quickly as a kid; everyone does. The difference being that where a non-psychotic person eventually gets to stop relying on others to tell them what is real, we get to keep on asking forever.

It's actually super exhausting to be in a crowded space because most of the nonverbal cues you come to rely on (eg, no one else flinched so that noise probably wasn't real) become INSTANTLY useless. Every noise, movement etc may of may not be real, and your only option is to either gauge other people's lack of reaction, or ask someone you trust for a reality check.

Sounds like an easy way for an abusive shit to control your entire life with no effort? It is!!

THAT'S WHY PSYCHOTIC PEOPLE ARE WAY MORE LIKELY TO BE ABUSED THAN THE GENERAL POPULATION.

Once you know if something is real or not, you can decide to ignore it. Like ignoring anything obtrusive, this is easier if you are in a good mood, physically comfortable, etc. An absurd amount of "coping with psychosis" is just constantly monitoring yourself and others to make sure you are reacting to the right things at the right volume.

Ignoring something that your brain insists is real and a threat is very tiring, so there's also a lot of sleeping.

Delusions are significantly harder to manage than hallucinations, IMO. Not just because, as a multiply marginalized person there are myriad ways that an ambiguous "them" is actually trying to ruin my life for real. Being on terror watchlists due to racism REALLY makes it IMPOSSIBLE to manage my paranoid delusions because some of the more insane shit is just real.

But there are other delusions that are easier to handle. Mostly, this comes down to self monitoring again. I can take an extra second to ask myself, "hang on, statistically speaking, how likely is it that this total stranger ACTUALLY wants to kill me?" The answer, of course, is "violent crime has been trending down for years, and everyone in this area thinks I'm white as long as I don't go outside during the summer, so I'm safe."

It's all about finding the information that helps keep you calm.

Because the absolute certainty that this is a murderer and you are walking into the slaughter will not go away. You just... take it on faith that this time will turn out as safely as the last 399 times.

It's just a shitload of observation, mimicry, and forcing myself to do things that feel dangerous by reminding myself that they aren't.

That shit sounds simple, but it's a CONSTANT fight; it never really gets easier, you just get used to it.

Which brings me back around to my meds again: I think I prefer it this way. My writing sucks, and I keep crying when I read it because it's wrong, it sounds like a field amputation. But god, I went to a cafe during the morning rush a few days ago, and the overload of noise and data only left me bedridden for ONE day. ONE!!! Not a WEEK!

Maybe losing my only art is okay in light of how much less bad things are.

Anyway, I can't remember the name of the 2014 short story about the One Person With Psychosis being wrongfully shunned by her colony because she doesn't feel affective empathy, in spite of her constant and perfectly reasoned moral code ensuring she is, if anything, the least dangerous person in town. I wish I could remember it!! It's a good example!!!

I haven't read it yet, but people I love and trust seem to generally agree that the psychosis in Harrow the Ninth is well written, too, so maybe check that out IDK

[whitephoenix81]

After the war with the giants, and Percy is seriously pissed at Zeus for not helping and not allowing the other gods to help. Mix in PTSD, depression, and alcohol you get this:

"Hey! Big Z," Percy screamed at the sky. "Do you think that the reason that you keep looking for other people to sleep with, is because when you try with your wife, you end up putting her to sleep? Eh, Big Z?!"

Lightning struck the ground not six feet from where Percy was standing, as thunder boomed so loudly it shook the ground beneath his feet.

" Yeah! Yeah!" Percy waved him off like one does a toddler throwing a tantrum. "Suck my dick! I hear you're good at it!"

If it were possible, the sky grew even darker. Before it was a dark purple, now it was pitch black. The lightning in the clouds, all gathered in one point. Right over Percy's head. The lightning was stark against the blackness of the thunder clouds.

Percy stood there, his eyes riveted to the gathering lightning. Knees bent, and ready for anything. The water in the lake, and in the sea worfe bubbled and churned. Waves so high and violent, that not even experienced surfers would dare ride those waves.

Static in the area, beneath and around the storm, became so great that no one could touch anything for fear that they would get shocked violently. Everyone's hair stood on end. Everyone's, except Thalia's.

With the anticipation mounting, everyone either ran for shelter against the coming storm, or standing in awe at the growing electrical storm overhead.

There was a moment of silence. The silence before the storm, as the world seems to stand still around you. Before the dam breaks, and you are flooded with noise. A massive lightning bolt, the likes of which no one has ever seen, shot out from the center of the storm, streaking through the air. Heading right towards Percy.

The water in the lake and sea jumped over Percy and the camp, forming a shield of water. As the Lightning struck the shield, Percy felt himself being forcefully pulled back. An arm wrapped around his middle, dragging him with ease out of the way. The water slowed down the lightning, took away some of its momentum, but it in no way stopped.

In the span of a heart beat, Percy went from hurling insults to the sky, to being wrapped in a comforting, warm, yet restraining embrace pulling him effortlessly away from the apex of the lightning bolt. The lightning hit the ground, and his world turned white. When his vision cleared, Percy stood horrified.

Camp Half-blood was gone. Nothing more than a smoking crater.

He broke free from the arms holding him back, and ran as fast as he could. All the way to the pavilion. At least, where it should be. Where he last saw Annabeth.

He searched and searched, until his legs collapsed under him. His hands, dirty and bleeding from moving debris. His face caked in dirt, lines running down his cheeks from his tears. But they were all dry now. He didn't have anymore tears left to give.

He heard the footsteps of the one who had pulled him back. Who now was pulling him up. He looked in the concerned face of his father. Later, after Percy and Poseidon had retrieved Percy's family, and brought them to Poseidon's palace for their safety, Percy sat with his family eating dinner. Thinking.

His parents kept a close eye on him. As this was very unlike him. It was Paul who gently asked, "Hey kiddo. What'cha thinking about?"

Percy was honest with them as he stared at his plate, pushing his food around. "I remember one time when one of the Demeter kids had talked about the five stages of grief." Percy's face hardened, his eyes had long since lost its playfulness of the Atlantic Ocean. Replaced by the hard, cold and frigidness of the Arctic. As his fork scrapped against the plate. Sounding like nails on a chalkboard. His voice shaking with the strength of his rage. "I would like to propose a sixth step.

"Revenge."

[8-beats-per-minute]

‼️‼️AHSOKA EP 5 SPOILERS‼️‼️‼️‼️

You have been warned

I have WAYYY too many feelings about this episode. Like omg??

I will try to make this as comprehensible as possible but it’s 11:30 and I’ve been up since 6 and I’m REALLY EXCITED

Okay RAPID FIRE

Huyang holding Sabines helmet was so sad and it felt like he was kind of mourning her and I swear I almost cried

(Technically last episode) Hera getting there BARELY too late made me so sad

THE WHOLE AHSOKA AND ANAKIN THING

THE BANTER “You look the same” “You look old” “Well that happens”

I LOVE THEMMMMM

Them fighting, Anakin sending her back to their first battle to go through everything

ALL THE CLONES

HER HOLDING THE HAND OF THE CLONE AND HIM HOLDING HER HAND BACK

I saw Rex in the corner of the screen and I was like OH MY GOD ITS REX LET HIM TALK PLEASEEEEE

I retained very little of that scene I was so focused on Rex

He had like 5 words BUT HE TALKED

HE DID IT

He didn’t take his helmet off BUT WE HEARD HIM TALK TO AHSOKA

AND IN THE CREDITS IT WAS CAPTAIN/COMMANDER REX

I actually had such an emotionally reaction to him being called commander. I was for a week but IT STILL HAPPENED

And most importantly Temuera Morrison as Rex FINALLY 😭

I CANNOT get over how young she looks. Like obviously we could tell in the animation in the first few seasons that she was young but she looked soooo much younger live action Mandolore compared to animated Mandolore. It hurt me. She’s so young.

AND THE FACT THAT WE GOT TO SEE LIVE ACTION MANDOLORE AND AHSOKA DESTORYING GROWN WARRIORS AT 17 😭😭

I love her

And the young Ahsoka actress (Ariana Greenblatt) was amazing all the love in the world to her ❤️❤️

THE FUCKING

SWITCHES

BETWEEN ANAKIN AND VADER

THAT LOOKED SO COOL

AND TERRIFYING

And Jacen. Being able to hear Ahsoka fighting??? AMAZING

The fact that Jacen saved her? I will never get over that.

BUT AHSOKA BEING UPSET THAT ANAKIN IS COMPARING HER TO HIM BECAUSE LOOK HOW HE TURNED OUT AND THEN HER HAVING THE YELLOW EYES??? AHHH

I can’t be 100% sure but I’m pretty sure the way she defeated Anakin is very similar to how she defeated the inquisitor in Tales of the Jedi. I could be reaching tho idk

And I have to mention it. Ahsoka without the headband in live action was a massive jump scare. I made like an actual noise and recoiled a bit lmao 😭😭

But her being like Jacen is here?? And the way he ran up to her and hugged her and she hugged him back you KNOW she’s auntie Ahsoka. She spent enough time around that kid to be that cool aunt that’s also a Jedi.

Her being ohhhh you heard me fighting huh? I know she already knew he was force sensitive (I mean come on he’s Kanans son) it she was like 😏😌😃

ALSO THAT KANAN FULL NAME DROP. I LOVE IT. THANK YOU

So the New Republic is like “yo you did a bad thing we’re coming to pick you up” and Hera’s like “aw shit really?”

Then AHSOKAS like “hey what if we used the thing that Ezra used to get IN THIS SITUATION IN THE FIRST PLACE” amd Hera’s like “damn u right” so Ahsoka does her Jedi communication thing

AND JUST GOES IN THE MOUTH OF THE SPACE WHALE??? CAUSE WHY NOT I GUESS???

But yea

I love Carson with my whole heart he is everything to me

He’s like “I’m so ducking done with this but I know it’s the right thing so imma lie even tho I might get fired. Cause this new gov is kiiinda bs but it’s still okay. U go Hera u got this and I’ll always back u up” AND I LOVE THAT ABOUT HIM!! I love Ahsoka but he’s #2 especially in this episode

So he’s like “lol look I wasn’t lying”

And I just have one lil question.

What happened to that whole thing where the purrgil were ship destroyers? Like that’s their whole introduction was in Rebels where everyone’s like “These things are dangerous they just wander and destroy ships don’t go near them that’s all they do”

And then Ezra (I think I don’t exactly remember) is like “actually they’re pretty smart. Also they use hidden hyperspace lanes to travel. So they’re actually pretty cool” and THAT was just a thing in like season 2 or something wayyy before the finale.

But now they’re just weaving their way through the ships??

I guess you could argue that Ahsoka was like “hey could you not” and/or the captains were moving the ships around the purrgil but still they’re known to be super destructive even if the ships try to avoid them?

Idk whatever not that important

I CANNOT PHYSICALLY WAIT FOR NEXT WEEK IM SO HYPED THIS WAS DEFINITELY THE BEST EPISODE SO FAR

I can’t wait to get an update on Sabine thooo

WE STILL HAVE 3 EPISODES LEFT THO THEY BETTER NOT DO THE FINALE EPISODE FLOP THAT KEEPS HAPPENING.

I SWEAR.

Anyways overall amazing episode I love seeing Ahsoka and Anakin banter and also fight and Jacen being force sensitive and Huyang and Carson AND HERA OF COURSE!! LOVE HER

Can’t wait for next week aaaaaaa

[goosimp]

ok long ago in the dark ages few months back, back when I had no one who'll listen to my joongoo rambles, and I was newly in love, I would seek out fanart of him everywhere

I think the first time I saw kitsune joongoo was somewhere on pinterest and I was like "cuteee" But nothing much more but then that adorbs tart acc posted that fucking beautiful kitsune goo and I had DIED

THAT ONE IMAGE GRIPPED MY NECK AND I COULDN'T BREATHE SINCE

I had,,, SOOOOOOOO MANY THOUGHTS. The possiblities. The scenerios. The imagination.KITSUNE GOO!!!!!

So naturally I drew him allot but I also had a very vivid imagination series kinda in my head---

Soooo

~

Not really fic more like idea dumping(Kitsune goo x fem!oc you can say? Except I never decided her name)

~

There's this lady, in traditional attire and she's really nice but unsocial with society and spends most her times studying mythical beings, which makes everyone in town thinks she's a witch.

For that she lives deep somewhere in a forest in her home or what she calls her temple, in the privacy and nature where she studies the supernatural.

Something something happens she stumbles upon something something back to her temple-

She sets up the items she found in her ritual stand and begins reading the things written on the item peace and gasp

Suddenly everything glows and a hot man groans, standing on top of the ritual set up, well not a man… A KITSUNE!!

He's confused, he looks at her like "how am I here?" And she explains she, taken aback but also having done rituals to summon mythical creatures before, explains that she found him through something plot convenience something and he chuckles.

"Wow you talk really formally.. Huh, so I was incased to eternal sleep after…" and before he could reveal more plot he cuts himself off and grins at the lady.

"Your eyes are fixated on my tails, do you want to touch them?" He says and his 9 fluffy tails wag, inching closer to the lady's hand.

The lady being polite first tries decline but she's human she can't resist, TOUCH TOUCH TOUCH- Soft tail pats… Joon goo let's out cute fox noises (BAAAH M DEAD)

he chuckled and held her hand to stop her from totally getting engrossed only in his tail, and she retreats, embarrased, "ah, apologies, it's that I've studied your kind through only tales before, finally having met a kitsune.. I'm just in awe."

The lady explains, goo cuts her off and says "Goo. I have a name, call me goo.." He smiles, perhaps had gotten a bit annoyed by the lady continuously referring to him as a kitsune but he wasn't offended.

more conversation happens, goo acts flirty cause yes, one scene in particular I imagined

"May I study you? I'm very fascinated by your stature..." she asks innocently, but goo being the mischievous fox leans very close and whispers in her ears "You want to know how kitsunes show their love to people that respect them?"

She shivered and pulled back, "ah thatll be too much of an honour!" she exclaims naively,and goo melts cause she's so innocent and sweet

Some more stuff happens (actually its already getting so long so I'm cutting off small small imaginations I had Inbetween, my mind continued with this one story for A MONTH so it has lots of moments-)

Somewhere inbetween goo knows he has to go and take his revenge and get answers for how he was encased, so after staying with the lady in her temple until he regained his normal strength, he decided he'll have to leave.

The lady doesn't want to be left alone again, she has so much to learn about him too, goo feels he doesn't want to part ways either.. He hasn't felt this peace with someone since...forever. He would miss the gentle tail pats and getting his ear scartched too...

"Come with me, lady" He offered softly, smiling. "You have more to learn about the mythical world anyways.. And... I said I'll show you a kitsunes love too right?"

~

Idk why dafuq I felt the need to aesthetify the imagination,, god there's so much I skipped over too but it's so longgggg and so out of character

anyways yeah so basically I love kitsune goo.

~🍞

THAT ART OF TART'S HAD ME SEEING HEAVEN FOR A SECOND. MY JAW DROPPED WHEN I SAW IT!!! IT WAS FUCKING FUCKING BEAUTIFUL!!! I HAVE THAT DOWNLOADED ON MY FOLDERS AND IT'S EHEHEHEH- IT'S SO FUCKING PRETTY LIKE NONE WILL UNDERSTAND ME!!! I WOULD KILL TO SEE THAT IRL. THAT'S LIKE ONE OF MY FAV GOO FANARTS AND THE OTHER BEING OF iwasneverthere true to their name, garden1a and del-png klshaegvbkuo like those arts are so fucking goooodddddd AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH makes me tear up evertime i see their goo art, the true rulers of goo fandom

I am so happy i saw this before I went outside and start chasing someone with a bat. This is so cute and adorable💝💝💝💝💝💝💥💥💥

why is kitsune goo not real. It's fucking sad that the earth will never see the true beauty😞😞😞

THE TAILS. THE TAILLSSSSS!!!gv!KUFVSACFYLIGYIFYF I NEED RTO TOUCH RHEM OII WANT TO QGVABBUscuuiqguhieefschiecfhniqfhqefhi;,jb klugbkuoawgefkUIW2GFIUGwfgugefbkudsgbvukgskdgu kzxb vhzvczhch ugca ug caugc uagc scg asogcacgaus couag df ugcui avgsfoiugfgqwqbkl hi oq 3yt 021yr hfe tc avc v c8agu ogo hchcoys