#god i hope nothing is just so wrong and obvious and i cannot see it

[jestroer]

When you and your nb buddy are the cutest on the server dress up party

[recallthename]

more than any other dead celebrity, i really wish people would leave marilyn monroe’s memory the fuck alone

[in-another-april]

hey carmen!!

i love your writing so so much:(( the way you characterize Spencer is so sweetie pie:((

Do you mind giving us some sweetie pie spencer bestie to lover content!! this is a suuperr niche request so no pressure obvie!!

i love love this request thank u so much!!! let me know if you want me to change anything, i hope u enjoy <3

Before you get together, there is going to be so much mutual pining. Spencer is a mixture of insecure and clueless, he really cannot tell that you're trying to hit on him. Even when he can, he dismisses it as him just taking it the wrong way, because surely someone as perfect and wonderful as you wouldn't like him like that, right?

Literally everyone except for the two of you can tell you're in love, he is so not subtle!! You're the first person he looks for in a room, he practically sprints to sit next to you before anyone else can, and he gets so, so pouty whenever someone else tries to flirt with you. One time you come into work complaining about forgetting your jacket at home and he jumps out of his chair insisting, "You can borrow mine!!"

And, yeah, he doesn't get any work done that day, too busy blushing and staring at you in his clothes.  You conveniently "forget" to give it back, and he conveniently "forgets" to ask.

You're always looking for an excuse to be near each other, to touch each other: You fall asleep on his shoulder on the jet, he rests his head against yours. He takes your hand when he notices you seem stressed, you affectionately brush your thumb along the back of his hand. One of you goes in for a hug, the other holds on just long enough to be considered more than friendly...

And you are both still so oblivious!! No matter how many times you go to look at him and find he's already staring at you. No matter how many times you’re both reading/looking at something for a case and he leans in way closer than necessary to see it. (“Spencer, don’t you have your own copy?” “…I… seem to have misplaced it.”) Neither of you ever confront these obvious feelings.

Until!!!

A new agent on your floor assumes you’re together, complimenting what a cute couple you are. Spencer, of course, loses it, getting all bright red and completely flustered because there is nothing more that he wants than to be considered your boyfriend, even if it’s just being mistaken as such. (He’ll take what he can get.) But you take his reaction as him being uncomfortable with the idea, and in an attempt to ease his concern (even if it does break your heart), you quickly correct them that oh, no, you’re just friends.

Then Spencer’s face falls and his heart is the one that’s breaking because why were you so quick to correct them? Do you really not like the idea of being with him that much? He knows it’s silly to be upset, you’re not together and you never did anything to suggest you were (completely wrong but we’ll let it slide) but there was a small part of him that really hoped that maybe, possibly, his feelings were reciprocated.

But now, clearly, they’re not, and he can’t help himself from avoiding you the next day because it hurts to be around you knowing he doesn’t have a chance. But then it only gets worse because it hurts just as much to be away from you, and you seem so concerned about him, and oh god he has no idea what to do with himself.

He comes to your apartment after work, and you somehow answer the door right as he starts to knock. The words struggle to come out at first, but then they do, and then he’s rambling, and it’s not entirely intelligible. But you get the gist, and it’s that he’s so in love with you! He seems so frantic that for the first time in your life, you want him to stop talking, so naturally you do what any other normal person would. Kiss him like your life depended on it. Right in your doorway. And. I don’t think there’s anything more I can (or should) say.  

masterlist | inbox ← requests open! ♡

taglist - @lover-of-books-and-tea @maskysluvr @aurorsworld @wisteriaspencer @radioactiveinvisible @mandarinmoons (send an ask or message to be added/removed!)

[shortstrawberry]

OKAY HI can I please request a oneshot of possessive Donna/mc being all fluffy and wholesome and possessive because mc finished their exams and they haven't seen each other for a while because of exam season? Please and thank you ♥️

"I'm back--oof!"

You had barely stepped into the flower shop before you were glomped by a figure clad in black. Well, someone is really happ to see you.

You knew Donna must probably be waiting for your exam to finish and you to come back, but you didn't exactly expect to be greeted this way.

You hugged Donna back, your arms encircling her waist, clutching at her black shirt. You felt the older woman's arms tightening around you in response.

"Cazzo, fuck. I missed you dolcezza. I missed you so much"

Donna nuzzled her nose against your neck, burying her face in your shoulder. God, you could almost melt in this woman's arms. She's as warm as the sunlight that shines in the greenhouse every morning.

Knowing how tough Donna is beneath her oversized clothes, you squeezed her as tight as you can. After being away from her for over two weeks, you just want to make a home inside her and never leave.

"I told you I could visit in between. But you refused!"

Donna groaned against your neck, before peppering several needy kisses against your skin there.

"I know, I know, and I regretted every single time I refused, Dolcezza. But I needed to make sure you do well in your exam."

"Why? What harm would one visit have done?"

Donna pulled back, looking down at you with a gleam in her gray eyes.

"I would never have let you go back, Dolcezza. We can't have that during your exam, right?"

Aah, yes. Its getting harder and harder for your florist to let you go back to the dorm. Hell, it's hard for you to sleep alone in your dorm bed. You miss the warmth of your broody dollmaker. You know it's only a matter of time when you yourself move into Donna's little cottage.

You reached up to kiss Donna's lips in thanks. Despite her obvious desire for you to stay around her, she would always put your studies above her. You adore just how sweet and selfless Donna is.

"Thank you for your patience. But I'm here now, and not going anywhere."

Donna pulled you closer, a slow mischievous smile coming on her full lips.

"Careful with your words, love. I might take them seriously."

You kiss her again, this time longer than before.

"I want you to take them seriously."

Donna blinked, and you swear you see tears in the corner of her beautiful eyes. You immediately cup her face in your hands, your eyes looking up at her in concern.

"Donna? What's wrong?"

The older woman shook her head to assure you, but you didn't miss the slight wobble of her lips.

"It's nothing, dolcezza."

You refuse to believe that.

"C'mon, it cannot be nothing. Tell me."

Donna's shoulders finally sagged, and her hands curled on your back.

"It's just, I thought you'd never come back. Every single day for the past two weeks, I waited in front of the door, hoping to see just a glimpse of your face. So, to finally have you back in my arms, it's a joy unlike any other. Impazzirò di gioia, dolcezza."

You wanted to remind your precious wallflower that you had texted Donna every single morning and night. But you know that isn't the same reassurance for Donna. For some reason, unless and until you're in front of Donna's eyes, she would believe that you'll leave any time.

You wonder just what makes your strong florist so insecure. But now is not the right time. Maybe sometime later, when you both are together under the same sheets.

For now, you will reassure her with words you always say to her.

"I'll come back to you. I'll always come back to you, sweetheart."

Donna pressed her lips against you, whispering on your mouth.

"Always?"

You hummed against her, letting yourself fall against the florist.

"Always."

[lussiane333]

Slashers or their S/O with a cavity or a toothache. Like how would they help/deal with it? (I’m getting my wisdom teeth out later this week and I’m hoping for some comfort/fluff from the slashers)

I hope everything will go well for you 🖤

Slashers and toothache.

RZ! Michael Myers

I mean let's be real. Considering he ate a dog and from a trash, we know his teeth cannot be perfectly healthy.

But! After you took him under your wing his hygiene has upgraded! (thank god)

Michael has a big (if not otherworldly) pain tolerance

However...

Toothache is just damn annoying and the pain goes straight into his head

He hates it..

He would brush it aggressively thinking it's going to help

If it did, perfect.

Now if it didn't...

You wouldn't know about it at first

If he's that comfortable around you to not wear a mask you're going to see him frowning, moving his tongue a lot

When you ask him what's wrong he's just going to ignore you, don't even try

You noticed your bathroom cabinet with pills a little.. messy.. like a lot, nothing is in it's place

Now you know that something is bothering him and decide to take care of it yourself. He's going to be such a bitch about it, what are you thinking touching his face like that? He doesn't need your help, it's going to go away on it's own!

But Michael wants your care, just don't be so obvious about it.. He wants it especially when falling asleep, he won't sleep without your touch and warmness

You made him soft food, fruit and vegetable smoothies for the rest of the week, along with some pills and.. tada! It really did go away on it's own somehow

He's thankful, Michael didn't even think about the possibilities if it didn't go away, maybe like getting used to it..

Art the Clown

Insists on ripping it out for you.

Why not?! It's going to be free and he's gonna have so much fun!

He just kinda looks at you when you're cursing in pain

He doesn't remember hurting it that much, come on you must be overreacting..

He wonders what would hurt you more, this toothache or stabbing you right into the guts

When you cuddle him he will rock you in his arms and place his warm palm on your cheek

Art will try to make you laugh in everyway, he knows he can't tickle you now, that would make it worse (He really really wants to tickle you..)

So, Art is going to dance, make funny faces or just grin at you just to make you feel better

He will make you herbal tea with some painkilling drops

Please just don't cry anymore, he feels like he's unable to help

He suggest you taking that removed tooth back with you so he can make a necklace or a lucky charm for himself!

Art will welcome you with a warm soup when you come back home

If you bring him the tooth, his crazy little heart is beating with happiness, and his eyes have that significant sparkle in them

Carefully kisses your cheeks and caresses them

If you want to sleep for the rest of the day, that's fine, he will try to make you stay at home with him for the rest of the week, what if it's going to hurt again??

He enjoys this time with you when you're extra sensitive about something, it makes him feel somehow more important

Jason Voorhees

He just wants to hold you, would that make you feel better?

Jason is going to do anything he can just to ease your pain, at least a little

He doesn't really know how tho, he has no pills you could take

Later on, you decided to visit a dentist and get your tooth removed

Poor you.. What have they done to you..

Jason doesn't leave the cabin, even if you insist it's fine, no it isn't, he's staying with you

He knows and sees that you're better after few days, he's so glad

He kinda wonders how it felt when they removed your tooth, I mean he has never done that.. Did it hurt a lot? You're brave for that..

If it's nice and warm outside, he would like to take you out for a walk around the lake if you'd like

He would collect some flowers for you, and give you a masked kiss on your cheek

Lots.of.kisses.

Please tell him how they removed your tooth, what and how they did it, he wants to know

Jason hopes that no one will try to ruin your day together, he can go to kill mode within a second, but he even thought about letting them get away if they appeared all of sudden

He would, for you, he doesn't want to leave your side

When it got a little darker you were already walking back, Jason held you closely next to him

Fortunately, no one tresspassed and you had a great day, it really felt good to go out like this

[fawnhoards]

a collection of dialogue from season one of netflix’s dragon age: absolution. to be used as sentence starters. as per usual, feel free to change pronouns or whatever you see fit. mentions / implications of death, murder, violence.

❝   now you know i hate to question your decisions, but—   ❞ ❝   just couldn’t stick to the plan, could ya?   ❞ ❝   always so sure you know better.   ❞ ❝   i don’t care about your apologies.   ❞ ❝   please, not here.   ❞ ❝   so nice to finally meet you in person.   ❞ ❝   next time, aim a little more to the right.   ❞ ❝   seems like a good time for a new venture.   ❞ ❝   you were magnificent, you know that?   ❞ ❝   people like us don’t change the world.   ❞ ❝   people pay you more to blow stuff up if it’s for something they believe in.   ❞ ❝   we have a very small window of time.   ❞ ❝   you’re our only hope of pulling this off.   ❞ ❝   will you help us, please?   ❞ ❝   i should have told you everything, and for that, i’m sorry.   ❞ ❝   i’ve left it at that. i suggest you do the same.   ❞ ❝   you can’t be serious.   ❞ ❝   i’ve survived things that make the deep roads look like a pleasant stroll.   ❞ ❝   i assure you, you’ll lose your nerve long before i will.   ❞ ❝   lengthen your stride and shut the fuck up!   ❞ ❝   hold. state your business.   ❞ ❝   light of the maker shine upon you.   ❞ ❝   we won’t be here for long, okay?   ❞ ❝   i don’t like the sound of ‘could’.   ❞ ❝   ain’t it obvious? we’re the muscle.   ❞ ❝   if you’re trying to distract me, it won’t work.   ❞ ❝   fair play on that one.   ❞ ❝   i don’t like your implication there, friend.   ❞ ❝   what happened here?   ❞ ❝   i just can’t stay out of trouble.   ❞ ❝   you think that did anything except risk our mission?   ❞ ❝   do you want to talk about it?   ❞ ❝   if you don’t come back, i’ll kill you myself.   ❞ ❝   that’s more your problem than mine, ain’t it?   ❞ ❝   tevinter is home to the most powerful magic in the world.   ❞ ❝   careful, you might offend the chantry.   ❞ ❝   spirits, demons, they’re all dangerous.   ❞ ❝   i, for one, cannot recall any good coming from something powered by murder.   ❞ ❝   maker’s breath, don’t you think that’s worth investigating?   ❞ ❝   i am not letting you face one of those things alone.   ❞ ❝   many before you have sought to bring back the dead, and failed.   ❞ ❝   by name and by nature, mortals are doomed to die.   ❞ ❝   nothing goes against nature without consequence.   ❞ ❝   just because something hasn’t been done doesn’t mean it can't be done.   ❞ ❝   i won’t risk losing you.   ❞ ❝   please don’t make me protect you from yourself.   ❞ ❝   one way or another, this will all be over soon.   ❞ ❝   i mean, he’s cute, but yikes.   ❞ ❝   you think i’m scared of you?   ❞ ❝   no one ever saves people like us.   ❞ ❝   i have always wanted my own song.   ❞ ❝   well, there goes my last vain hope that this was an accident.   ❞ ❝   i don’t need your protection.   ❞ ❝   it’s pronounced ‘thank you’.   ❞ ❝   i’m here to help, for some reason!   ❞ ❝   but i just got you back.   ❞ ❝   aw, maker’s titties.   ❞ ❝   less talk, more run.   ❞ ❝   no one’s going to hurt you. you’re with me now.   ❞ ❝   i’d prefer not to kill you, but i will.   ❞ ❝   blood magic is not the answer.   ❞ ❝   now is not the time for great moral stances.   ❞ ❝   you can’t tell me this doesn’t feel weird.   ❞ ❝   well, of course it doesn’t make sense when you say it like that.   ❞ ❝   i have nothing to say to you.   ❞ ❝   that isn’t fair and you know it.   ❞ ❝   i’ve made mistakes. but they were mine.   ❞ ❝   you live because i will it.   ❞ ❝   are you really trying to claim the high ground?   ❞ ❝   are you really the last one to figure out that you’re the villain?   ❞ ❝   hey, look at you, making good choices.   ❞ ❝   you’re holding it wrong.   ❞ ❝   no one ever saves us. so we save us.   ❞ ❝   hey, that is a completely unfair assumption.   ❞ ❝   i just need you to say that i’m more important than this.   ❞ ❝   holy crap, we’re alive!   ❞ ❝   i am, uh, usually not this lucky.   ❞ ❝   you don’t have to come. i won’t hold it against you.   ❞ ❝   i will have my war.   ❞ ❝   and after this, we can go to the hinterlands and make cheese for all i care, so long as we’re together.   ❞ ❝   that’s the thing everyone forgets about dragons. they aren’t monsters, or gods. they’re just alive, like us.   ❞ ❝   as much as i love hearing about my failings in the eyes of the maker, i thought a walk might be a bit more pleasant.   ❞ ❝   i won’t say i’m not scared, 'cause i am... extremely scared, but i know this is the right thing to do, so i’m definitely gonna help you anyway.   ❞

[deepspacedukat]

The Defector (And His Doctor) - Part One

We all know why this happened. SOUP FOR THE SOUP GODS. This will be 2 definite chapters (with maybe an epilogue if I’m feeling particularly loquacious once chapter 2 is up). I followed the main story of this episode pretty closely, so if you haven’t seen ST:TNG S3E10 “The Defector” you have been warned that this contains major spoilers!

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Beverly Crusher (ST:TNG) x Alidar Jarok (ST:TNG)

[A/N: The second chapter will have smut, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Interspecies romance, spoilers for ST:TNG S3E10 “The Defector”, flirting, Jarok is a charmer, attraction at first sight, mention of injuries, but nothing too graphic, Jarok flirts with his doctor while she treats him, mild innuendo, brief sexual thoughts, Jarok swears in Klingon, Riker swears in Romulan.

~*~

**Day One**

Walking shakily off the transporter pad in his singed uniform, Admiral Alidar Jarok registered the presence of two Human Starfleet officers and one Klingon.

“I must see your Captain immediately,” he said wincing slightly. Talking made the burns on his face and neck sting with a ferocity he hadn’t experienced since his years in the field over a decade prior.

The Human officer with a beard spoke up as he moved to intercept the Romulan.

“We’ll take you to Sickbay,” the Human stated. Jarok noted three gold pips on his collar. Ah, he was a Commander, then. “After that–”

“This cannot wait! I have information vital to your survival,” the Admiral exclaimed, and the Commander looked at the Klingon officer. Why the delay? Did they think he had just been chased across the Neutral Zone by a warbird for the thrill of being pursued?

“Very well,” he said, reluctantly tapping his combadge. “Captain Picard and all senior staff, please report to the briefing room immediately. Riker out.”

When the Commander - Riker he’d said his name was - closed the channel, he turned back to Jarok and stood a little straighter.

“What’s your name and rank?”

Jarok had prepared for this. He’d spent time prior to the warbird’s pursuit devising a plausible cover story. He doubted that a Starfleet Captain would ever listen to Admiral Alidar Jarok, the Commanding Officer in charge of the Norkan Campaigns. He had it on good authority that the Federation had that set of battles listed as massacres, so he hoped they’d listen to a lesser man without his colorful history.

“I am Sub-lieutenant Setal, a logistics clerk for one sector,” he answered as the Commander escorted him out of the transporter room. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but Jarok had the nagging feeling that these Starfleet officers were going to be slow to listen. He only hoped he hadn’t put his faith in the wrong people.

--

“The humiliating defeat at the Battle of Cheron has not been forgotten. The new leaders have vowed to discard the treaty and claim the Neutral Zone,” Jarok warned, glancing meaningfully around the staff gathered at the conference table. “Nelvana Three is just the first step.”

“You’re saying an entire base has already been established there?” Riker’s skepticism was offensively obvious, but Jarok ignored it for the sake of making his point clear.

“In forty-eight hours, the reactor core will be online,” he confirmed, but none of the officers seemed convinced.

“So the Federation sensors that monitor the Neutral Zone just missed it?” The Commander asked, but Jarok showed no outward reaction.

“It would seem so. In two days, a fleet of Romulan ships will be within striking distance of fifteen Federation sectors,” the Admiral said, hoping the gravity of the situation would hit them quickly. The more time they wasted on this discussion, the less they would have to stop the base’s construction and prevent a war. War was the inevitable outcome of a move like this. Surely they were aware of that inescapable conclusion as he was?

“The Federation will not permit that,” the Klingon officer growled.

“Then it is war that we’re talking about, isn’t it?” Jarok interjected with a hint of impatience. “Destroy the base now and the threat is over.”

After a slightly tense pause, the Captain of the Enterprise spoke up.

“Well, I’m sure you are fatigued by your ordeal, and you require medical attention,” Picard stated. The Admiral blinked. “Lieutenant Worf, will you accompany Sub-lieutenant Setal to Sickbay? We will attend to your quarters.”

He was being dismissed already? But they had barely asked him anything at all!

“No doubt you will wish to question me further?” Jarok inquired, but the Captain seemed reluctant, despite the answering ‘no doubt’ that he was given in response. The Admiral followed Worf out of the briefing room, allowing his attention to shift to his curiosity about the Klingon’s presence in Starfleet on the flagship.

Vaguely, as they walked down the corridor, he heard the sound of his ship exploding from his auto-destruct sequence. It was done, then. This was truly his only refuge. He must make sure that his actions were worth the consequences.

As Jarok, Worf, and the security officer accompanying them entered the medical bay, the Romulan was ordered to stand near an empty biobed in the center of the room. He did as he was told, and after a moment’s wait, a Human woman with a head of hair resembling fire turned the corner carrying medical instruments. Their eyes met, and Jarok could do no more than blink in astonishment.

“Doctor Crusher, Sub-lieutenant Setal requires assistance,” the Klingon stated, and Jarok smiled as the woman he’d been admiring set all but one instrument on a nearby tray and made her way to him.

“My, what pretty doctors the Federation has,” the Romulan crooned as she gestured for him to have a seat. Perhaps his exile wouldn’t be as bad as he believed it would be.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to stand near exploding plasma conduits, Sub-lieutenant?” She teased as she scanned him with a medical tricorder.

“Oh, many times, but, unfortunately, in this instance it was unavoidable,” he murmured giving her a small smile. The movement stung his already burned face, but he didn’t care. He’d repeat it a thousand times if only to hear the lovely little huff of laughter that came from her as she shook her head and picked up another tool. Soft fingertips brushed against his cheek, steadying his head so that she could begin her work. “Have you ever been told, Doctor, that your touch alone could cure any ailment?”

“Oh, I’ve heard that once or twice over the years,” she said, and if Jarok wasn’t very much mistaken, he thought she rather enjoyed his praise.

“I’m willing to bet that this is the first time you’ve heard such a sentiment from a Romulan. Is that not so?” He asked glancing up at her to find a smile settled across those lovely lips of hers. He wanted to bite them, to feel them against his skin.

That impulse startled him somewhat. He’d only just met this woman! He couldn’t simply throw her atop an empty biobed and ravish her. Obviously, his ordeal with the warbird had unsettled him more than he’d supposed it might. He desperately needed to calm down.

“Perhaps,” she replied, but before they could speak further, the door to Sickbay hissed open to reveal an irritated Commander Riker.

“Your ship just exploded, Setal,” the Human ground out. Ah, they must have been preparing to board it as he’d predicted. He’d made the right decision, then.

“I set the auto-destruct sequence before I left the ship,” Jarok replied calmly as the Doctor moved farther to the side, giving them space to talk while she worked.

“Why?” What a foolish question! If this was the standard for a Federation Commander, then Jarok truly had chosen poorly.

“Wouldn’t you do the same to prevent your ship from being captured?”

Riker looked completely irate as he took half a step closer to the Romulan.

“Excuse me for being a little confused, Setal, but I thought you were defecting.” The accusation in the Human’s tone made Jarok bristle despite himself. Nevertheless, he forced his voice to hold onto some small measure of calm.

“I am not a traitor. All you can see is the opportunity to exploit me. The Federation credo: exploitation! You couldn’t get aboard my ship fast enough,” he murmured. “Strip it down! What secrets might it reveal that we can use? You are a short-sighted people.”

He felt Doctor Crusher’s gentle hands against his scalp trying to hold his head in place.

“Can’t you understand? I came to stop a war–”

“If you could just hold still?” The doctor’s gentle hands gripped his shoulder as he began to rise to his feet, and he looked reflexively over at her. By the Elements, she could tame a raging Klingon targ with those beautiful blue eyes! Unable to look away, he submitted to her request easily, resuming his seat just in time to earn him a smile from his lovely medic.

Oh, he wanted more of those from her...

As her instruments returned to work and he was forced to look away, she spoke again.

“With your metabolism, this will heal in a few minutes,” she estimated, but the Admiral thought he heard a hint of amazement in her tone. Was she as curious about his biology as he was about hers?

“Thank you, Doctor,” he replied turning to look at her again once she released her hold on his chin. “How fortunate that you know something of Romulan medicine.”

“Yes, I had a chance to gain some experience recently.” Her cryptic remark paired with a glance at the Klingon officer confirmed his suspicions.

“Ah, yes. The incident at Galorndon Core. The two officers...” He was going to compliment her on her technique and her obvious skill given the lack of further knowledge about his anatomy, but he was interrupted.

“You are aware of a great deal for a logistics clerk!” Worf growled accusingly, and Jarok’s jaw clenched.

“It was common knowledge. I can show you my rating code.”

“Forged credentials are a simple matter for a spy,” the Klingon stated, and Jarok smirked as he turned to face Riker.

“Why do you allow this Klingon petaQ to walk around in a Starfleet uniform?” Worf bristled beside him.

“You are lucky this is not a Klingon ship. We know how to deal with spies.”

Empty threats had never bothered him before, and this was no exception.

“Remove this tohzah from my sight,” Jarok ordered flippantly, waving his hand in dismissal.

“Your knowledge of Klingon curses is impressive, but as a Romulan might say, only a veruul would use such language in public,” Riker retorted, and Jarok glanced at the man curiously. How would a Human know his people’s profanity? They had so little contact, after all... “Mister Worf, please see to the security arrangements for our guest’s stay.”

After a long moment, Worf acknowledged the order and left Sickbay. The Romulan couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his lips.

“You find something amusing?” The Commander sounded slightly less than entertained himself.

“Lieutenant Worf. I like him. To be more precise, I understand him. He’s a warrior. Proud, fearless, living only for combat,” Jarok said as he stood. “Exactly the type that will get us all killed, if we’re not careful.”

Moments later, when Riker had escorted Jarok to his quarters and left him to his own devices, the Admiral couldn’t help but wonder how all of this would unfold. Checking that his felodesine chip was still in the hidden compartment of his boot where he’d stowed it before, he gazed out to the stars.

He was committed, now, to a path that was only partially lit in front of him as he walked upon it. Depending what he came upon as he forged his way forward, he would either be vindicated or...well, the other outcome lay in the palm of his hand in the form of a little orange disk.

--

As soon as Sub-lieutenant Setal had left the medical bay, Beverly noticed that Nurse Ogawa was stealing furtive glances at her. Oh no, she knew what that look meant. The women had been friends for too long for her not to.

“Something on your mind Alyssa?” The Doctor feigned ignorance, but the Cheshire grin that spread across the nurse’s lips was all the confirmation she needed about what was on her mind.

“Well, Doctor, I...I might be mistaken, but Setal seemed quite taken with you,” Ogawa said as she placed a few of the medical tricorders into their storage slots. “When you got him to sit back down, he looked at you as though he was seeing an angel.”

Beverly let that thought roll around in her mind for a moment, replaying the memory a few times. He had seemed somewhat more open than she’d expected. What surprised her, though, was his lack of argument when she asked him to stay still. He’d fought hard against practically everything that Will and Worf had said to him. Why would he acquiesce to her suggestions so easily?

“Perhaps he just knows not to argue with a medical professional,” Beverly stated brushing off Alyssa’s suggestion as if she had taken no pleasure in the way he’d looked at her.

“Picard to Crusher. I need you on the bridge, Doctor. Bring the results of Setal’s scans.”

Her musings would just have to wait for now. She tapped her combadge as she crossed to her office.

“Acknowledged, Captain. On my way.” Gathering the supplies that she needed, she met Jean-Luc at one of the science stations. He, Data, and Geordi were analyzing the sensor readings they’d taken when the Enterprise first encountered Setal’s ship. Geordi pointed out several moments when the warbird could have destroyed the Sub-lieutenant, but instead kept their distance.

“I don’t think they wanted to catch up,” LaForge said turning his visor toward Beverly who remained unconvinced.

“And yet they fired at the scout ship,” she pointed out as the icons of both the warbird and the smaller ship replayed their sequence again. “They could have killed him.”

“Not necessarily, Doctor,” Data said as he pointed out the trajectory of the shots. “The Romulans have the same capability to direct the impact of their weapons as we do.”

If that was true, then if they’d wanted to destroy Setal’s ship, they could’ve done so easily at any time. So...why didn’t they? Beverly didn’t like the answer to that question one bit.

“Is there a possibility the wound could be self-inflicted?” Picard asked as he looked at the Doctor. She’d known the Captain for so long that she couldn’t help but wonder if he could see what was going through her mind. Could he read her as easily as she felt like he could? Was it possible that he could tell how she was already beginning to feel about Setal? Her attraction to the Romulan felt like a brand positioned squarely over her face.

“They’re very bad burns. I hardly think–” A sterner look from Jean-Luc silenced her protests. As much as she liked Setal, she had to remain objective. There was still a chance that he was a spy sent to draw them into a war. That tactic wouldn’t be an uncommon one for his people.

“A possibility?” He asked quietly, and she could do no more than reluctantly nod her head. The realization felt like a splash of cold water dousing the small spark that had only just begun to form. When she climbed into bed that night, her dreams were filled with phaser fire, plasma burns, and a smiling Romulan Sub-lieutenant whispering sweet words while brandishing a knife behind his back.

~*~*~

Taglist:

@akamitrani​ @android-boyfriends​ @attention-bajoranworkers​ @bigblissandlove1​ @darkmattervibes​ @emilie786​ @horta-in-charge​ @live-logs-and-proper​ @slutty-slutty-vulcans​ @starrynightgardens​ @toebeans-mcgee​

[jades-typurriter]

Copper Badge/Robber Stripes

A commission for @totalcudgel, who was my first customer outside of my group of friends and very enthusiastic for the whole process! Her sona gets her gender transed and her species swapped by one of her OCs. Hope you enjoy!

CW: TGTF, weight gain, some slightly more visceral descriptions of changes

“Nine-one-one, what is the location of your emergency?”

“Sheriff Sam? Oh, thank God I got someone who actually knows what they’re doing! Do you have any idea how many times I’ve called in and been told to try Animal Control instead?”

“Well, I’m the only one at the station-house at this hour.”

“With overtime, I hope. You’re about to do some real good!”

“Good one. Location of your emergency?”

“Okay, listen. You know the dirt road that forks off from main street? The one everyone uses during game season, goes straight into the woods—”

“Please don’t tell me another deer-headed hiker didn’t get shot by a hunter.”

“No, this is bigger, MUCH bigger! I set up some trail cams just a ways off the trail, and—”

“Sir, I’m not going to tell you to call Animal Control, but I am going to remind you that Bigfoot is a citizen of the United States, and that I cannot arrest him for walking around in his own backyard.”

“It’s not—”

“Kidnapping is kidnapping, even if it’s ‘an anthropological breakthrough’, sir—”

“IT’S NOT BIGFOOT! If you can believe it, it’s weirder than Bigfoot!”

“…Weirder how?” The sheriff sighs, kicking his feet up on the table.

He wasn’t lying—the station was totally dead this late at night, and he most certainly was not paid enough to stay this late and field false alarms all night. Someone had to keep an eye on the town overnight, and none of the other cops were willing to do the job most nights. They were either much younger than himself and had social lives to attend to—plenty of them were fresh out of college and still had drinking buddies, or were looking for someone to settle down with—and those his own age had already done so. As the most senior officer—And the only one with nobody to go home to, he thought, before pushing the self-directed jab out of his mind—he volunteered for the job most nights.

Of course, there were plenty of people whose biological clocks inclined them toward night work, but if they’re more alert at night, they’re better suited to working the beat than to waiting around playing operator. Sam himself was a human, but the station was fairly diverse; no owls, but they’re just the most obvious choice. Coyotes and foxes were plenty active after sunset, and mountain lions were comfortable working before opening and after closing. There were plenty of raccoons around town, as well, though none happened to be on the force. Sam lamented this, in passing. He’d always had a soft spot in his heart for raccoons.

“Soft spot” might be putting it a little bit lightly: most of his crushes and romantic flings had been with raccoon women, and he’d always wondered at the dexterity and agility of the wild, four-legged kind. Something about leaping over fences and scurrying up walls, slinking through the grass just out of sight… His office was littered with knickknacks and decorations that evoked the stripey little critters, which he had always played off as being cops-and-robbers-themed decor to add a little levity to the station-house, but it was fairly safe to say that what he had was a little bit of a fixation. Nothing wrong with that, though—everybody was more interested than usual in something. 

“I, look, I don’t know how to explain it, exactly,” stammered the caller, “but I need you to just bear with me. I’ve been called crazy plenty of times, and I know that telling you about all these weird, indistinct linear shapes I saw moving past the trail cam isn’t gonna help much, but BECAUSE it’s on the trail cam, you can just come see it for yourself!” Sam heaved another sigh, looking around at the empty office.

“Fine,” he grumbled into the receiver. It had been a slow night. “Am I going out to the camera itself, or am I meeting you at your—”

“SHIT, it’s back!” the caller cried. Sam could hear him frantically tapping at his keyboard—taking screenshots, maybe, or zooming in, or posting to a forum for conspiracy theorists. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

Don’t you think they’ve seen plenty of those photos, bud? He groaned, internally. You splurge on the good trail cam, or are we gonna have another grey smudge to show for your triumphant discovery? He wondered, briefly, if the town really needed a night guard; it was always something ridiculous like this. But I’ll go even crazier without something like this to keep me busy, and worst case? It’ll be good for a laugh.

“It’s, Sam, I’m telling you—are. Are you laughing?”

“No, no,” the sheriff replied, pretending to clear his throat. “What’re you seeing?”

“You’re not gonna believe it ‘til you see it with your own eyes! It’s just this, this mass of zig-zags and odd angles as it goes by the camera, I—I can’t tell if I’m even looking at something solid! It’s dark, and then light again, in a way that doesn’t quite make sense, somewhere between tendrils and, and some kind of—”

“Alright, alright, I’ll go straight to the camera and tell you what I see.”

“Just don’t hang up! I want to hear every little detail about this crazy thing.”

Begrudgingly, the sheriff obliged, calling him back on his personal cell phone and answering his constant stream of requests for updates during the uneventful drive down main street and to the hunting trail. The camera wasn’t too far into the woods, according to the caller; Sam could just park on the trail and walk a few dozen yards to get there.

“SAM!” shouted the caller. “BE. CAREFUL. I haven’t seen the thing in a little while, but the camera just went black—I think it might’ve broken it, and it’s still nearby!”

“Did you consider that shouting into the phone might be bad for my health, if there’s some unknown creature prowling around?”

“I—”

“Just keep quiet a minute, ‘kay?” Sam muttered, crouching low and turning off his flashlight. The trees were thin here; he was able to navigate by the moonlight, quickly spotting its glint on the metal shell of the camera. It sat nestled into the edge of a bush in the middle of a clearing. It was shoddy camouflage, but at the very least, there were no Bigfoots, Abominable Snowmen, or any other undiscovered form of folk gallivanting around. What he did see, however, was a bushy, striped tail scampering out of the clearing at his approach.

“Well, I hate to be the most recent man to call you crazy,” Sam spoke into his cell, suppressing a pang of distaste for the descriptor—”man”, not “crazy”. “But it seems like we’ve got a false alarm. I just saw a raccoon running away as I walked up.”

“A raccoon?” Spluttered the caller. “But—but the shapes on the camera! They—”

“The shapes were black and white, weren’t they? ‘Dark and light’ all over, lots of squiggly lines?”

“Well, yes, but—but I couldn’t make out any concrete shapes!”

“That’s the point of the stripes, pal. They break up the silhouette so they’re harder for predators to see. Like zebras.”

“Like… zebras?”

“My guess is, it just got too close to the camera for you to make ‘em out clearly,” he continued as his boots crunched across the grass. “Either one raccoon was playing ring-around-the-rosie with your little setup, or a mama was passing by with a line of her kids.” He crouched down again when he was close enough to see the culprit for the camera’s blackout: a cheap little mask, probably fished out of the garbage by one of the little guys. He waved into the camera at the concerned citizen on the other end of the line dangling it up for him to see. “They didn’t break anything, either—just left you a little gift!”

“I… Man, this is a letdown.”

“You’d rather send me alone to fend off some kind of formless alien yeti?”

“Hey, you’re the one who signed up for the dangerous job, aren’t you? It’d be for the greater good of science!”

“Yeah, well, like I told you earlier: kidnapping’s kidnapping, even for science. You have a good night, now.” He heard the beginnings of a huffy retort before he clicked his phone closed, and turned to hike back to his car. He’d keep the mask, he thought; it’d be a cute little keepsake of a funny story like this, and the black eye-ring shape of it would make a perfect addition to his collection. He wondered why a raccoon would be so interested in a camera to begin with.

Maybe it thought it was a can of food? Wouldn’t be the first time someone left trash out here and attracted a wild animal. He scowled. There were signs all over the hunting trail reminding people not to get the wildlife hooked on table food. It would just get him more panicked calls about harmless critters! Well, he shrugged, any night I get to see one of those little guys is a good night. Maybe the hunters being lazy litterbugs isn’t that bad.

He walked back into his office not long after, already thinking of good places to hang his “new” domino mask. His keys were still practically jangling in his pocket when he heard a voice from the—now-open—doorway.

“You really do love raccoons, don’t you?” said the stranger, toward whom Sam immediately wheeled around, letting out a yelp that was decidedly unbefitting of a cop of his stature. His hand flew to his belt for the bear spray he’d brought with him; suddenly, he was glad to have given credence to the town kook, and to have prepared accordingly. Even more than being followed into the building, he was taken aback by the intruder’s appearance: they were a roughly person-shaped mass of light, like a sunbeam stood up from the window it poured in through and started walking around.

“Oh, silly me,” they interrupted themself, “this might be a bit much for a first impression. Sorry for straining your eyes like that!” Sam blinked the light out of his eyes, as reflexive as when one’s eyes pass over the sun, and when he opened them again, he was instead looking at a raccoon person. He didn’t recognize them from town.

“Who… who the Hell are you?”

“Well, we just met a few minutes ago! I know my manners haven’t been at their best tonight—not introducing myself, not knocking—but surely you wouldn’t forget so soon. Maybe you’ll recognize me more easily like this!” Sure enough, the next time Sam blinked, the figure was again replaced, this time by a wild raccoon. “How’s this? Better?”

“Are you—did that guy actually pick up something supernatural on his camera?”

“I’m flattered that you think I’m ‘super’! I think you’re wonderful too, Sam,” the being cooed. “My name is Vello, by the way. Sorry again about that!”

“How do you know my name? How do you—” The sheriff did a double take, gesturing at his office behind him. “—How do you know about the raccoon thing?”

“Word gets around fast in a small town like this, don’t you know?” The critter winked before scampering around the doorframe, out of sight. The glowing figure from before stepped back into view, dimmer this time.

How considerate, Sam grumbled to himself, brow furrowing in both confusion and consternation.

“Why don’t you tell me more about it?” Vello prompted him. Sam felt oddly… exposed, by the request. Awkward. Like someone had stumbled upon a sketchbook, or a journal of poetry drafts, and wanted to see more. Not to mention, a total stranger was doing the asking—but the being seemed so genuine, approached it so gently. “Couldn’t be the weirdest thing you do tonight, could it?”

“Why the interest, anyway?”

“It seems to me that you’ve got some tangled feelings about it!” Sam scowled. Dead to rights. Not like the other officers hadn’t caught him stammering for an excuse about it; he was just pissed that it was so obvious. Hell, though, he reasoned, If God or some shit is in my office, I’d better just roll with it. I doubt the bear spray would actually do anything.

“Well…” The sheriff looked back and forth between the stranger and the stash. He scratched the back of his neck, almost anxious. “I dunno, I’ve always just liked them. It feels like it’s deeper than that, somehow, but… that’s weird, right? I try not to talk about it too much, try not to think about it too much. I don’t wanna creep anybody out—there are raccoons all over town, right? I try to just enjoy them in a… in a normal way. I guess.”

“Normal? You say ‘normal’ like you mean ‘good’, dear. ‘Acceptable’. What makes you think that your feelings aren't acceptable?” Sam winced.

“Well, pal, the fact that I have to try not to talk about it too much. I, uh…I think about raccoons a lot.”

“Oh, I know you do!”

Sam blinked, then blinked again. At first, he thought that he’d been stalked the old-fashioned way. Vello was real cozy talking about all this, though, including stuff that even a stalker couldn’t figure out. Given what he’d just done to show off, he might literally know his thoughts. Not that that’s any more comfortable, he groused.

“I really don’t mean to intrude,” Vello apologized, “but—”

“Then what the Hell are you doing it for right now?”

“Oh, no, I could tell just by looking at your face! The raccoons, though—that I could tell just being near you. There’s a reason it was my first choice of disguise earlier!”

“So that was you on the trail cam.”

“Well, I hadn’t realized there was a camera. I hope I didn’t cause the one who called you too much discomfort; looking at me when I’m not decent tends to… give people a headache.”

“Didn’t seem any crazier than usual to me,” Sam shrugged.

“Wonderful! Enough about your friend, then,” he said as Sam rolled his eyes, “What could be wrong with thinking often about something you love?” Sam’s cheeks grew warm at the choice of words—was affection even the right way to describe the way he felt about raccoons?

“Well, like I said, I don’t want to make anybody else uncomfortable. You hear about cat people all the time, sure, but raccoons are certainly more… out there, as an animal to associate yourself with. Not to mention all the people around town who happen to be raccoons.”

“Are you afraid they’ll think you have…” Vello’s voice took on a conspiratorial hush, like a father giving their thirteen-year-old a talk about how to stay safe while dating. “...a ‘thing’ for raccoons?”

“I don’t want to make them feel objectified,” Sam replied bluntly, rehearsedly.

“Have you ever dated a raccoon, Sam?” The heat in Sam’s cheeks intensified, and he looked away from Vello again.

“...I’ve only dated raccoons.”

“And did you ever treat them like objects?”

“Of course not!” He snapped, whipping his head back around to face the glowing shapes “I gave ‘em all the world, when I had ‘em! But…” Vello waited patiently for him to find his words, finally offering some when it seemed like none were coming.

“But it just never felt right?”

“...No.”

“And what about it didn’t feel right about it?”

“Me, if I’m being honest. I was happy as could be with those ladies, but… I dunno. I guess I never felt good enough for them, or… like I couldn’t be myself around them?”

“How so?”

“Well, I suppose you wouldn’t know anything about it, since you seem to be able to be anybody you want,” Sam began. Vello cocked his head at the remark, but continued listening. “But being ‘me’ feels sort of like an act. Not like I’m pretending, really—I’m not trying to lie to anybody—but I feel like I’ve got a mask on around them all the time.”

“What are some things that you feel are part of that mask, Sam?”

“That right there, for one. Never felt too strongly about my name. But who the Hell am I without it, right? Can’t just decide to be somebody else.”

“Whyever not? People change their names all the time. For fun, for marriage, for a fresh start.” Sam grunted in acknowledgment, thoughtful. Vello prodded him further: “Do you have a name you’d prefer?”

“Hmm,” he grunted again. His lip curled—not out of contempt for the idea, but reluctance to dig deeper.

“Anything at all come to—”

“Sally.”

“Sally?”

“Sally.”

“A lovely choice,” Vello beamed. Literally. “May I ask—”

“I don’t really know. It’s just a name my brain keeps coming back to, same way it comes back to raccoons. I figured, if it’s so special to me, that I’d name my daughter that someday, but if you’re asking what other name I’d pick for myself… this is the closest one to feeling like a part of me.”

“As good a reason as any!”

“Shame I couldn't use it.”

“Oh? Why would that be?”

“Because I’m not a woman?” Sam said plainly, turning up a palm and quirking an eyebrow at Vello.

“Do you wish you could be called Sally?”

“What is this, some genie shit?” 

“Of course not!” Vello laughed at that, a good-natured, from-the-belly kind of laugh. “I mean, I grant wishes, but there’s no need for that kind of formality!”

“Right,” Sam muttered, skeptical.

“I’m just curious about what it is that you want! If calling yourself Sally would make you happier, then why shouldn’t you? Actually, don’t answer that—I don’t think it’d be very productive to go back and forth about names being fake and all that.”

“Fake?”

“What, do you think I was born with a name you folk from around here could pronounce? I picked it myself!”

“Why Vello, then?”

“I liked the ring of it,” he chirped.

“Huh. That simple?”

“That simple.” Sam crossed his arms, looking at the floor in thought for a moment. Before he could convince himself out of that promising, tantalizing train of thought, Vello pushed further. “May I ask what else you wish you could change about yourself?”

“I don’t know where I’d start, bud.”

“May I make a suggestion.”

“Sure,” the sheriff scoffed. “Shoot.”

“If you’re envious of a feminine name, is it possible that you’re envious of other feminine traits? Or perhaps even, the traits you find admirable in raccoons?”

“Envious? No, no, it’s sorta like what other people describe when they talk about love. The butterflies, the nerves, the excitement. When You talk about jealousy, especially from girls wishing they were ‘as pretty as hose other girls’, it always comes off… bitter. Angry, sometimes. I’ve never felt that way looking at one of my exes, and definitely never when I look at a wild raccoon.”

“Ah,” begins Vello, “but that isn’t quite true, is it? Even with the wild ones, don’t the stripes seem lovely? Don’t you find their faces cuter than any other animal—haven’t you wondered what a snout like that would feel like? How you would look if the rings around your eyes were natural, instead of from exhaustion? Haven’t you ever thought, just once, that a tail like that would suit you nicely?”

“...I wouldn’t say it’d suit me,” he began hesitantly, then reluctantly added: “But I have thought, on occasion, that it might be fun to have.”

“And when you were with those women, wasn’t there something more than the attraction?”

“I don’t see what you mean. Wouldn’t that just mean… loving them very strongly? That wasn’t the issue; I said earlier, my problem was that I didn’t feel like myself around them, even if they made me happy.”

“Think about why you didn’t feel like yourself, dear. When you were near them, wasn’t there a nagging feeling of wishing you could be even closer than skin-to-skin? Didn’t you wish you could see what they saw, feel what they felt? Perhaps you thought of it in terms of… wondering what made them seem so genuine, compared to what made you feel so artificial?”

Sam crossed his arms. Once again: dead to rights. He didn’t like the feeling.

“I know I promised I wouldn’t keep poking around in there,” Vello acquiesced, keeping his hands where the sheriff could see them, “but it seems like you need a little help connecting those dots, friend.”

“So what are you suggesting? That, because I’m always coming back to this… obsession, with raccoons, that it’s like the name I picked out?” His heart quickened as he brushed closer and closer to those feelings—ones he had spent a long time trying to ignore, out of concern for appearances or out of cold practicality for his unfortunate, but immalleable, reality.

It was like feeling a statue under a tarp—acquainted, almost by heart, with all the shapes underneath, but being afraid to pull the fabric away. Afraid that he would lay eyes on it, and never be able to forget its beauty, never be able to stop longing to bask in its beauty. Afraid that he would have to leave it behind anyway. It had been better to leave it, covered, in the corner of his mind where he could safely ignore it; the gentle, knowing tilt of Vello’s head told him that he wasn’t the only one aware of its presence.

Maybe, with someone else who could appreciate the work of art for what it was, he could bear to tear away the tarp.

“Maybe you’re onto something, then,” Sam continued, shakily. “I lay awake thinking about my exes, thinking about all these tacky striped clothes and pelt hats and everything. I think about them, and while I love them—I cared a lot about those girls, and I think the critters are a wonderful part of nature—love isn’t the only thing I feel. It’s like when you think about your hobby, or how I used to get when I thought about graduating from the police academy. There’s a passion. Like I’m the starring kid in a musical, and they’re playing the number about all his hopes and dreams on my heartstrings.”

“Now I think you’re starting to get it,” Vello encouraged him; he had waited patiently while Sam mulled it over, and nodded along as he finally opened up. “So, Sam—”

“Sally,” the sheriff blurted out, eyes fixed on the being like a lost sailor watches the North Star. “Please.”

“Sally, dear,” Vello corrected himself. Something about hearing the name directed at her made her head swim a little; it was like receiving applause after one’s first time playing onstage. Did she just feel recognized? Seen? How did just a taste of being treated like a woman feel so… right? “What is it that you want?”

“You said you grant wishes?” Sally choked.

“I can help you, yes!”

“No monkey’s paw nonsense? No ironic genie rules?”

“Heavens, no. I wouldn’t be having this conversation with you—or have had this conversation with any others like you—if I didn’t want to help. No ifs, ands, or buts, no strings attached.”

“Can you do it for me? Can you… Can I try being like them?”

“Just tell me what you want to try first,” Vello said, a smile palpable on his featureless face.

“Let’s start… let’s start with the tail,” she resolved.

“Would you do me just one favor, first?”

“You said no strings,” Sally said, warily.

“It’s not a string, per se. Just something I think will be fun! Help you get into the experience, maybe.” The sheriff sighed.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Why don’t you put this on?” Vello grinned, holding up the little domino mask. Sally patted her pockets—she hadn't set it down anywhere, but she didn’t have it anymore. It was the same one. What the Hell was with this guy? If she weren't in the makings of a great mood, she’d have snatched it out of his glowing hands. “C’mon. Worst case, it’ll be good for a laugh.”

“Pfft. Fine,” she said, cracking a begrudging smile. She snatched it—playfully—from him and reached up to tie it around the back of her head. “Is it working? Do I look like a raccoon yet?”

“You tell me! Do you feel any different?” She opened her mouth to tell him no, of course not, you wingnut, but all that came out was a surprised little yip. The small of her back felt strange, like there was pressure under the skin. Her belt was suddenly uncomfortably tight, and her shirt, tucked neatly into her waistband like it normally was, began to rumple and come loose as though something were snaking its way out of her pants. She could feel—could move—something, though the sensation was indirect, sort of foreign, like wiggling her ears. It wasn’t long enough for her to see yet, even if she tugged her shirt up and craned around to look down over her shoulder.

“Lord, this thing is itchy,” she griped.

“Oh, careful! Don’t scratch that while it’s still growing in,” Vello cautioned. “That would be, uh, your spine.” She winced and endured the sensation, a growth spurt pushing out instead of up. Her tailbone gave a downright strange crunching sensation as it stretched, then split, into a new vertebra; her skin pulled like taffy as it slid further away from the base of her spine, making way for the next new disc, then the next, then the next. A shudder shot through her each time, hammering against the base of her skull.

She felt the unmistakable sensation of a five o’clock shadow all along the new limb, followed by prickles all over, like a million tiny blades of grass tickling her skin. For each new vertebra, a new ring around her tail. Soon enough, she had a brand-new, puffy little appendage sitting just above her rear, long enough for her to wrap around her waist and examine firsthand. It was surreal, flicking around in her hands, like one of those demonstrations she’d seen of robots being controlled by their inventor’s thoughts. To reach out and touch it, to see something so fluffy and cute and feel both the fur between her fingers and the fingers in her fur—something clicked into place in her brain. This was hers. It was her.

“This is…” Sally fumbled, awestruck and frankly so overwhelmed—so surprised that she was overwhelmed, that this felt so good—that she struggled for the words. “This is really something. You, uh, you said that was my spine stretching out?”

“Mhm!”

“So you can’t just, y’know, poof a tail onto me?”

“No ma’am,” he explained, shooting more sparks right into her brain. “I can only really move things around. It looks like I change instantly when I do it because I don’t have your anatomical concerns. You, I have to be more careful with! Don’t want to hurt you, now do we?”

“And here I thought having your bones twisted and moved around like that would’ve hurt like Hell.”

“I’m being very careful,” he beamed.

“Right.” She was well past questioning anything Vello said, at this point. The results spoke for themselves.

“So?”

“Uh, so?”

“So what’s next?” He pushed, excitedly.

“Oh! Oh um, shit, let’s see,” she searched her thoughts frantically, so swept up in the thrill of everything that she nearly forgot to be flustered at her next proposition. “Can we try making me more… ah, shit,” she said, rubbing her face with her hands, bracing to spit it out. “More ladylike?”

“Certainly! Any specific requests?”

“Well, all the girls I’ve had eyes for have been on the heavier side. Maybe if I like having a soft tail so much, I’ll like being a soft woman too!” she said, half-joking, full of enthusiasm. “Do I have to, y’know, do something else like the mask, or…?”

“Oh, no. I can just—” Vello began, trailing off with a vague gesture in Sally’s direction.

“Woah.” Immediately, she began to feel changes: her hips creaked as they widened, and her once-broad shoulders groaned as they pinched inward toward her spine, narrowing and sloping downward. Her legs lengthened a few inches, snapping and squeaking like rhubarb or bamboo as her bones warped under Vello’s guidance, and her torso shortened by a few more inches than that. She was smaller overall, and a touch more slender, but much leggier in comparison. Her legs began to fill out as well. Her thighs, at first, merely brushed against each other as she shifted her weight around, her eyes darting from limb to body and back in wonder; within moments, they were like pillows stuffed in a bag from a furniture store, straining against the confines of her work pants and pressed firmly against each other, even with her feet slightly apart.

The changes progressed further and further up her body, testing her pants’ limits even more harshly as her rear softened and grew. If she hadn’t just sprouted a tail, she’d have found the weight in the area to be an unfamiliar sensation; even with her five whole minutes of experience, she quickly had to learn to adjust her balance. Finally, the button gave way, and the zipper was torn open by the force of her growing hips. Even so, the garment was stuffed taut and drawn tight as a suspension bridge,  and even so, her butt bounced slightly when she moved. She knew that if she were in the nude, it’d be wobbling outright—rippling, even.

Next was her shirt’s turn to be put through its paces. Her tummy changed gradually at first: the outline of the bottom of her ribs softened, then faded away entirely; her flat stomach grew to a bit of a bump, then began to squish down the tiniest bit under its own weight; a muffin top began to spill over the waist of her pants. Quickly, rolls started forming—her belly had grown soft enough to fold, to pool on top of itself. When she moved, her stomach took half a second to catch up to her, and its weight was palpable as she turned to admire her burgeoning figure. The way it stretched her button-up looked almost like an over-stuffed plushie: pulled tight in a way that seemed like you could sink your hand into it, and like it would make for an excellent pillow.

Her chest grew in much the same way, starting out as a single extra layer of padding and becoming larger, more rounded, bound more strongly by gravity as they expanded. Perky at first, they quickly became heavy enough to squish down onto themselves, though, supported by her tummy as they were, they still seemed plenty bouncy. Her nipples puffed up beneath her shirt, becoming broader and softer—right up until her chest filled out the top of her button-up, and they were pressed to tightly against the fabric as to be plainly visible through it. Another button gave, zipping right past Vello, and then another. Her face grew flushed at the sight of her own cleavage; the way she was enraptured by every little bounce with her breathing, by the way her shirt cupped and supported them, it was like she was a teenager seeing her first pair in person all over again. Except these, she got to keep!

A few final changes happened above her shoulders: her brows thinned, her cheeks filled out, and her Adam’s apple just about disappeared with one flustered gulp. She tested her new voice, shaky from excitement though it was:

“Listen, Vello,” she began, face burning. Her voice still carried years of wear, exhaustion, but it was a bit higher itched; a raspy contralto instead of her old gravelly grumble. “I know you have a real good read on the things I enjoy—and please don’t mistake me, I am enjoying this—but I don’t think this much of a figure is… office-appropriate.”

“No? But, dear, you aren’t too encumbered by the new changes, are you? You can still run well enough, especially with legs like those, and—”

“No, trust me when I say that this is… exceptionally curvy, for us mere mortals. Maybe it’s just me, another one of those things I was worried about being creepy over, but… can we just dial it back a little with the body fat?”

“Well, as long as it’s what you want. I can’t say I understand, though. You seemed thrilled about it just a second ago!” Vello waved again, and Sally lost a cup size, two waist sizes, and a few inches off her inseam. She breathed a sigh of relief, and her clothes finally stopped screaming for mercy.

“There’s such a thing as too excited about a body, Vello.” He looked at her blankly—even more than you would expect for someone without a face.

“I guess I just wouldn’t get it.”

“Maybe not,” she said, fiddling with her tail, “but get this!” She turned around, having wrapped her new raccoon rings ‘round her neck like a boa. “Isn’t this cute?”

“Oh, that’s an excellent idea! If you like your new fur so much, we could cover the rest of you in it!” Sally’s heart began to pound again at the suggestion.

“Yes. Let it rip, mister genie, make that my third wish! I think I know the answer already, but I wanna find out for sure if what I liked about those ladies really did run deeper than skin-to-skin!”

“Silly,” Vello chuckled, “I already told you I’m no genie! But your wish is my command,” he obliged her, dramatically waving his fingers around as though he was casting the final part of some grand spell.

First, her skin began to tingle—all over, just like when Vello started to grow her tail, she felt the ticklish, pokey sensation all over. Goosebumps formed on her skin, running from the base of her skull all the way to her toes, and from each little bump erupted a thick, strong follicle of fur, cascading along her body in bands of black, white, and all the shades of gray in between.

Her toes themselves also began to change: she felt a dull pressure in her feet, like the kind she had felt after a long car ride without a chance to stretch her legs. Along the bottoms of her feet, the skin thickened into paw pads; when she looked down at her hands, she saw much the same thing, and likewise felt pressure building there, like she had gone too long without cracking her knuckles. She extended her fingers, gently, and then flexed them—one by one, they crunched and popped, becoming thicker, rounder as they curled. The bones in the delicate joints slid past each other, shortened, grew stouter, and by the time they were done, they were a cute little pair of paws, each digit topped with a retractable claw.

The changes in her legs were more extensive than that, however; they would continue all the way up her legs and up into her hips. Her ankles cracked, tarsal bones gnashing against each other as they began to borrow length from her shins, and they strained as more and more of her weight was slowly forced forward onto her toes. Thankfully, as if to help her maintain her balance in real-time, much of the mass of her calves (and a little from her thighs) shifted to her rear end, the muscle there bulking up to help support the weight on her new digitigrade legs. She bent her knees—now considerably higher on her leg than she was used to—one at a time, shivering with relief as her bones cracked through the last tremors of reorganization, then popped up. She tentatively put one paw in front of the other, strutting around in a little circle, testing the limits of her new legs and ecstatic to find how nicely she bounced across the floor on them.

Her face, once again, was the site of the finishing touches. Her nose elongated into view of her eyes, and the end became wet and cold in the still air of the office, even in the warmth of Vello’s glow. Her teeth shifted—a feeling she hadn’t experienced since she got her braces off in high school—and the ligaments in her jaw snapped and stretched as it realigned itself, struggling to keep up with the sprouting of her snout. Whiskers shot out from the fur near the end of her nose, each one with an accompanying pinch, like it had been plucked by a tweezer and pulled out to its proper length; her ears migrated along the sides of her head, rounding out as they went and coming to rest at the top of her head. She reached up, feeling the shape of her new features with her equally-new paws, and realized she could no longer feel the mask. It struck her that she must have an all-natural mask now, and she suddenly felt like a child on Christmas morning.

“Vello,” she cried, whirling around to face him again, “we gotta find a mirr—oh.”

“A mirror?” He asked coyly, peeking out from behind a full-length vanity mirror. It was another impressive magical maneuver on his part, but she was distracted: the sight of herself in the mirror was enough to move her nearly to tears. It was really herself! The first time she had looked in the mirror and felt more than apathy, than resignation, than “acceptance of the luck of the draw”. She liked what she saw. She loved it! Her paws covered her snout, overcome with emotion; after a moment collecting herself, she watched it move in the mirror, still unable to believe that what she was seeing was real. Eventually, she stepped around the mirror and threw her arms around Vello—something she now had to reach slightly up to do.

“This is wonderful,” she mustered, trying not to sob into his shining shoulder. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You’ll be happier this way, won’t you, dear?”

“Happier than I knew i could be!”

“That’s all the thanks I need.” She pulled away to look at him; he could tell by her face that she was unsatisfied with the answer. “Maybe look out for other people like yourself?”

“Who want to change their gender, or who want to change their species?”

“Either!” he replied, eagerly. “And both! Just be willing to hear them out, you see. And if they aren’t sure how to say it quite yet, don’t be afraid to give them a nudge in the right direction.”

“Pay it forward,” she mused. “I can do that, for sure. Looking out for the people in this town is my job anyway, right?” She paused for a moment before a realization set in: “Ah, shit. My job. I’m gonna have to answer so many questions…”

“A perfect opportunity to reintroduce yourself then, my dear!”

“Hah. I guess so!”

“Is there anything else I can do for you before I take off, Sally?”

“Vello, I think I’m better than I’ve ever been. Thank you.”

“You’re very, very welcome. See you around!”

“See—” she blinked, and when she opened her eyes again, Vello was gone, mirror and all. “—you.” Huh. That’s that, she supposed. She glanced out the window; the sun was nearly up, which meant that her shift was about to be over, and that the station-house was about to be flooded by her coworkers. She decided it'd be best to get the Hell out of there for now; she could figure out an excuse for everything that had happened after getting some proper rest. She fiddled with her badge—surely, they’d believe it was her as long as she had it, right? The glint of the early light on its polished metal distracted her as she walked out to her truck. It took until the sky started changing color around her to snap her out of her admiration. The sheriff laughed to herself.

Guess some of these changes really do go further than skin-deep, she mused. Figures that I’d go straight from collecting stripey things to collecting shiny things. If she was honest with herself, something felt right about that, too. A lot felt right, now. More right than it ever had.

[snellyfish]

(duck) w. what are your thoughts on drdt ch 2 so far

hmhmhhhmmmmm

I haven't seen the ttttttwo most recent videos I think, so keep in mind there's still some stuff I haven't seen yet, bc me and my bestie have been too lazy to watch them lately HAHA

ANYWAY........

2 unpopular opinions, which make me laugh because I love being passionately wrong;;

Absolutely cannot stand Teruko right now, she's pissing me off so bad it's embarrassing for everypony, but I'll get over it; I do look forward to what they end up doing with her character, but for now I await satisfying character development like a madman....... rip...... Babygirl stop being so edgy we get it. go to your corner if you must.

Unfortunately, I miraculously still love Arturo, I looove freak characters so much (no one is surprised!!) and I do genuinely think there's potential to come out of his...... err.......... What definitely reads like blatant in-character transphobia. LOL. Seeing this man doubled over in terrifying euphoria is truly all I could've ever asked for, so I can't complain.

In general, Arturo weirdly doesn't read like a character that will progressively get worse and worse until he's put down like ol yeller, I feel that he's got some sort of redemption ahead of him,, whether or not he dies afterwards or in the middle of said redemption. Maybe with an attempt to get genuinely close to J but it's rejected and heartbreaking for him, more spiraling but you feel a little bad for him somehow. Idk. Not to be delusional but I also have this idea, that I REALLY hope is somehow true despite every piece of contradicting canon information, that Arturo is transmasc too ..... because like ..... whatever.. crosses my arms.. you wouldnt get it .........

Not to Verturo on main but-- I smiled when Veronika was like "ok whatever ill just go play with Arturo then 🙄!!" I like to think it was super awkward when she did find him because he probably just infodumped about J the whole time. Veronika being like "can we talk about my day for once" GHHGFKJGHDF. LOVE WHAT VERONIKA HAS DONE THIS CHAPTER SO FAR IN GENERAL SHE'S SO SILLY SO YASS SO KIN

Ace is going fucking BATSHIT and I'm so here for it. GO GIRL BESTIE I LOVE YOUUUUUU SO MUUUCH. For the most part I generally don't care for Levi (just not my typea character ig, nothing personnel kid), so while it is a little YEESH that all of Ace's character rn seems to be driving towards Levi and their heads butting together, I am still a little intrigued by said interactions. They're like a chihuahua and a pitbull, ykno, ykno. Would not be surprised if Levi merked him but that might be too obvious of a kill so hmhmmhmhm.

Speaking of which;; they're also like waaaaaaayyyy playing up the possibility of either Whit and/or Eden dying soon. So I have a feeling they are safe...for now... maybe. Shrugs. I hope Eden gets another layer to her soon, either way, she is very sweet.... too sweet. Take that as you will.

.........Charuko<3

CHARLES IN GENERAL<3

With the tension in the air as it is now, I'm far less worried they're gonna pull another accidental blackened, since idk if anyone remembers but I was very concerned about that in the past. It's fine and fun for a first chapter, though! Gets things rolling I suppose :D Now everyone is incredibly scared and unbearably pissed off at everyone at all times, so yippee!

Fun motive, too, I think the whole secrets thing was a super fun concept in THH and I hope we get to learn everyone's secret at some point. PLEASE I BEG.

GOD. WEIRDLY SOOOOO EXCITED FOR DAVID THIS CHAPTER. REALLY REALLY HOPING HE DOESNT DIE. I WANT TO KNOW MORE HE'S SO SLAAAAAAYY. TWO FACED FREEEEAAAK DOING HIS BEST. PLEASE SNAP. YOU DESERVE IT. THAT IS ALL.

[nateriverswife]

Hello there.

I am running on no sleep but my brain is keeping me hostage; so I have to get this out of my system.

The one peculiar (stereotyped) characterisation of Mello that seems to stood out the most amongst the fandom is his tendency to worship the very ground L has walked on. He loves his older brother, very overprotective when it comes to L and is the epitome of a feisty rascal.

Don't get me wrong, while I do love me some plantonic, found family Wammy Boys fic— I simply cannot help but to feel this very character is not remotely close to what canon had to offer.

Mello is shown to be a, sort of, conflicted catholic person in Death Note (ie: wearing a cross) and while it can be headcanon that he simply wears them because of -well- style, I like the idea of him being really religious before swearing that he's fight God in hell.

I feel like Mello sees L as a god, worshipped him and all, but he wanted nothing more than to overthrown him; he is a priest, L is a god and the Wammy's House is the very church that instilled this sort of ideology unto him. L is a legend, an idea, a concept— an abstract philosophy no one could decipher— hence, when L did die, the last evidence of how humane he is, how he could be, Mello is furious.

After all— what god could be defeated by means of mortality?

L is not a human, and the products of the Wammy's House are only that— inhumane. They were taught, nurtured, specifically moulded to become what they could not fanthom. They are doomed children, they are home, they are lost.

So, Mello knew that he was damned the moment he saw L as anything and everything, but nothing at the same time. He, of all people, went through hell and back just to impersonate the one person that made him — that created him, gave him purpose and whatnot — what good does he serve if L were to die before he could attain it? He was cruelly reminded of his own mortality, that he was bound by law and governed with instinct. And oh, how torturous it must've been.

This rant might not make sense, but it's fine. I wanted to talk about how The Wammy's House alone contains so many religious symbolism. I want to talk about the Wammy kids. I want to talk about L. But it's now 2.03 a.m. and I can hear smell.

Hope you don't mind me dropping by.

- E.H.

Hi, E.H.!

Firstly, I want to apologize for the time it took me to reply. Considering that it won’t even be an in-depth response with any manga reference, it really doesn’t explain it, so for that, I am sorry.

The reason why this isn’t going to be as long as e.g. my reply to the “L not using the death note” message is mostly a “problem” on my part, because I actually don’t really interact with that part of the fandom that talks and analyses Mello. I don’t know if it is obvious, but usually my analyses are done in response to claims that I see and don’t agree with (like, you had a post saying that L would actually work with Light, if he caught him, and I first reblogged it, saying that I don’t agree but then made a full-on post about it). Just two times, I wrote something about Mello because I wanted to air my two very personal headcanons (to explain his connection to the mafia & his relation with masculinity) out.

Anyways, that is to say that I don’t go out of my way to read people’s opinions about Mello (and Near, to be honest).

I have my established headcanons or interpretations of his character and it’s enough of a headache to see bad takes about L. I don’t think I have the energy to add Mello to that. Besides, most people that do make analyses about him tend to be those that ship meronia, so their view of the character is through that lens, even when it could be omitted. I don’t see many mellodramattic shippers do the same. They just give headcanons about Mello and Matt’s relationship.

Before I get out my opinion, I must say that your interpretation of Mello here is beautiful – the way you explained it, too. I do agree to some extent: I like the parallelism between Catholicism and the Wammy’s, with L and Watari, because I too think Mello saw it like that.

In my personal hc about his past, his father killed himself when he was really young. He lived with his very ill mother, who was a devoted Christian that passed this belief to him, and he prayed with her, prayed to God that she would get well, prayed for a better life, but then his mother died, leaving him alone, and he blamed God, like “I spent years praying that she’d be healthy, praying to you, and you take her away from me? My mother, the only person I care about. How could you betray me like that? No... How dare. Who do you think you are to do these choices?”. So, he began to resent Him, but still kept the rosary to honour his mother.

Then, when he was taken to Wammy’s and found out about this other “God” that actually saved people and worked for a better future, he idolised him, because he had proof of his existence and his “good” deeds.

Unfortunately, I do not subscribe to the idea that the successors (and anyone at the Wammy’s during their time) and L had a found family type of bond, and this is because, as I said in my Wammy’s House analysis/headcanon post, I don’t think L would make the same mistake twice and single them out. Doing this would only put pressure on them, and he can’t have another A situation. Yes, Near and Mello are the best in the institution, so obviously the chosen ones, but making them meet L carves that into stone, meaning that that would make them feel like they have to be him under any circumstance and make others believe they could never reach that position, and if they see L as the epitome of greatness, that means that they can’t be great no matter how much they try.

Of course, A and B are not really canon, but I still believe that L knew not to get involved with them, for other reasons but still, that is true to me. From any angle, creating a bond between them is a weakness – emotionally, strategically, and so on.

Kinda off topic: I am rewriting an old OC x L fic, in which he actually is involved with Mello and Near, like he met them, visited them multiple times and things happened that got him very close to them, and all that they got from these interactions is a face to hate, a flawed individual to judge and criticized, but especially a person. It’s not longer a role. It entails much more and made taking his place way harder. And this was written by me when I was 13 with the intention of it to be wholesome, “look, they are like a family”, but when I went over it a few weeks ago, I realised that Mello and Near could never functionally and efficiently work as L because they have a bond. Whatever. This was just me giving an example.

Moving on. I don’t even think they actually properly met. They only talked via a screen (in the scene in the one shot, Mello and Near don’t even talk actually), and L never showed himself to them, because it would be the wrong move, regardless of B existing or not. It just exposes his appearance, which he must keep a secret from everyone. I also think L didn’t want to be a person to be adored, but a role to be kept alive. I’ve said in one post, but I don’t remember which, that if we take into consideration the way he talked to the kids, he seemed to be actively working against the idea of him being this kind of God.

So, when God died, Mello’s faith was broken again. For the second time, the one that could save them all died, against a being that seemed actually to be the Lord and was going to take over the world.

First and foremost, he felt anger – towards L for creating this myth around him and then just let himself die (because I do believe Mello first thought that L just gave up, before realising his mortality, that he was just a person) and towards himself, for believing in this God, when the first one abandoned him.

From a priest, he turned into a heretic.

I noticed that both Near and Mello very rarely speak about the first L in a personal way, which is weird, because you would expect someone in their position to hold some type of personal feelings towards him, like a priest does towards God, even though they never met Him and only see His work in the world.

Near is not a heretic like Mello, because he does label L as their idol, but Mello does not. Mello doesn’t want to work with Near (a believer) nor with the second L (the fake God). He became his own god, because no one saw things like him, he wasn't weak, and he needed to prove to the world (and himself) that God is not real and self-redress is the only way.

Mello’s war was also against L, in a way; against the ideal that he created that also revealed his own powerlessness, as you said. But as he got closer to his death and as he witnessed Matt getting killed, knowing that he was next (not because he was going to sacrifice himself for the case, but his words to Lidner seem to imply that he use going to use his death to prove Light is Kira before Near), I like to think that he felt closer to L, to his position, and began to understand why God died (had to cite “a car, a torch, a death” by twenty one pilots, which I used to associate with Light but seems to fit Mello more lmao).

Now, I have to ask if this makes sense to you lol. Of course, this takes inspiration from your own opinion, because I do actually like the way you view his character. I don’t usually explore the religious aspect of Death Note, but maybe I should, you know.

I’ll be waiting for your answer to my ask though, ‘cause I am interested to hear more from you regarding the Wammy’s. And of course, I don't mind you dropping by.

Take care!

[5bi5]

Can I ask for Shoresy AND for Letterkenny on your fandom favorites ask?

Yes absolutely you can! Thanks for sending an ask :)

Letterkenny:

my favorite female character: Betty-Ann and Mary-Ann. Partially because of the hockey thing, but also because I enjoy that they are women who are dudebros who are sick of men's bullshit. Also they are a peak comedic duo and, crucially, they are in love even if they haven't figured that out yet.

my favorite male character: For season one, Super Soft Wayne. For seasons two and later, Reilly and Jonesy. They're the only characters that really seem to develop and grow as people throughout the series so I'm more invested in them than anyone else, and also they're two halves of a whole idiot which is always a fun dynamic.

my favorite book/season/etc: This show stays mostly consistent across seasons, but I'll say season 5 which is nothing but banger after banger.

my favorite episode (if its a tv show): Too many to choose, but I love A Fuss At The Golf Course, Back to Back to Back, and The Letterkenny Leave.

my favorite cast member: Currently loving Kelly McCormack's work in A League of Their Own

my favorite ship: Wayne/Rosie forever.

a character I’d die defending: Mrs. McMurray is an angel and I love her.

a character I just can’t sympathize with: Shoresy. I love him on his own show but cannot stand him on this one. If that's too obvious, I also find that Glenn and Gail both rub me the wrong way with how they treat Wayne, even if he seems fine with it.

a character I grew to love: Tanis, and also Reilly and Jonesy.

my anti otp: I'm not a fan of Wayne/Daryl which I know a lot of people ship, although I don't hate it – I just don't really get it and I prefer Wayne/Rosie. Also this isn't really the question, but I'm getting kind of tired of all the guys being in love with Bonnie McMurray (especially the non-hicks, as per Sleepover).

Shoresy:

my favorite female character: Do I have to choose between Nat, Ziig, and Laura? I know that's almost all the female characters but I love them all... Nat is probably the most compelling so far though, I hope she gets as much or more focus next season.

my favorite male character: Goody and/or Sanger. Forced to pick, probably Sanger since he has a bit more of a fleshed out personality.

my favorite book/season/etc: There's only one season so far but hopefully they keep getting better from here!

my favorite episode (if its a tv show): Veteran Presence. The whole show kind of melds into one though, there's very few self-contained plot threads.

my favorite cast member: I don't know anything most of the cast members have done so I'll say Keeso by default

my favorite ship: Shoresy/Laura or Nat/Laura.

a character I’d die defending: Nat.

a character I just can’t sympathize with: Honestly I'm not a fan of Michaels even after his heel-face turn, mostly because of the scene where he just has his dick out while talking to his (female, clearly very uncomfortable) boss alone in his apartment.

a character I grew to love: Shoresy himself. Like I said, I hated him on Letterkenny (even though he is funny), but I really like what they've done with him here and I'm excited to see him grow and improve.

my anti otp: God I wish Shoresy's foster sisters weren't dating each other. Aside from that, I'm not really into Miig/Sanguinet but only because Miig hasn't been given much of a personality yet and we haven't seen enough of them interacting directly to really care about their relationship. No real antis though.

[zephrr]

More Jason headcannons that dive deeper into my characterization of him. Jason Lore...if you will.

{ p.s. I base my Jason off of *me* and some just things I think of...but I mostly base him off me. So with that being said;}

T.W: Mention of SA

❥ Jason cannot trust people off the bat. You have to earn that. He has *major* trust issues.

❥ Loves the feeling of soft, squishy things. (He likes to touch boobs because of this. With consent, ofc.)

❥ He actually hates being the center of attention. He pretends to enjoy it because..

"I'm supposed to enjoy it right? That's the obvious thing to do." Jason said, sounding not sure of himself.

"Jason...you don't have to enjoy it. You can tell people that you don't feel comfortable.." Steve replied, setting his cup down as he made his way over to Jason. He put his hand on Jason's shoulder.

"It's ok to say no, Jace."

❥ His trust issues started at the ripe age of 11. He trusted his older friend. He would do nothing wrong right?

"Jason...sweetie? Are you okay?" Jason's mom asked from outside his door. She had been the one to find him. Her poor baby.

He opened his door and hugged his mother, sobbing. His mom just picked him up and walked over to his bed so they could sit down.

"I'll make sure he'll never come close to you again." She said, tucking his head into her neck, cradling him. And she did make sure of it.

❥ Lover Boy. Loves to love. Despite the past, he still loves. His partner will always feel loved when he's around.

❥Always mistakingly leaves his balcony window unlocked. He always forgets. So his friends sometimes sneak into his room at night.

"He looks so peaceful. Look at him...!" Chrissy whisper-yelled. This caused Chance to silently chuckle.

"God, I hope he doesn't get kidnapped on day due to this habit." Patrick said, sitting down on a nearby chair. Lucas just looked around the room, shifting nervously.

"Don't worry Luc', this isn't the first time we snuck into his room." Andy stated, almost proudly. Lucas just nervously chuckled as he sat down.

"Yo, I brought snack..." Chance said, cut off. "...s. Morning sleeping beauty." He said, slightly laughing.

Jason sat up, looked around and laid back down. He stared at the ceiling. Before looking over at Andy.

"This was your idea, wasn't it?" Jason asked, deadpan. Andy just smiled.

❥ He treats Lucas likes a son.

"You okay?" Jason asked, worried as he walks towards Lucas.

He found Lucas outside on the field sitting alone eating lunch. He looked sad and confused.

Jason took a seat next to him and just sat there, not forcing a response out of him. Waiting patiently. He saw Lucas look up at him from the corner of his eye but he didn't look back, not wanting to scare him into saying he's fine. He wants him to take his time.

"Hey, Jason?"

"Yeah, bud?"

"How would you feel if I told you I've been playing DnD with Eddie behind your back and that's why I've been missing practice recently." Lucas asked, rushed.

Jason just stared at him before smiling. He put his hand on Lucas's shoulder and sighed.

"I wouldn't feel anything, just make sure the team doesn't find out." He said, chuckling.

❥ He used to play DnD but then he got popular and dropped it. Though he does still enjoy watching. Though, nobody knows that.

"Jason is that a...character sheet?" Lucas asked, confused. Jason looked over to see what he was talking about before quickly snatching it away.

"NO! No..it's not." ...it wasn't convincing.

"You play..?" Lucas asked, amused.

Jason sighed before sitting on his bed. No one was supposed to know. It was dumb. But it was basically his childhood, an escape from reality.

"Used to. I stopped. I still enjoy watching my younger sibling play with his friends though."

Lucas stared at him with excitement in his eye. Oh god, what was he up to.

{ p.s: I might turn the last HC into a fanfic. }

[officialyourdailyinspiration]

Evangelical Intellectualism and the Spirit's Power

by Aiden Wilson Tozer

There has emerged lately in American Christianity a school of religious thought conceived in intellectual pride and dedicated to the proposition that everything of value in the Christian faith can be reduced to philosophical terms and understood by the human mind. The notion seems to be that anything God can utter we can comprehend, allowing possibly for the need of a little divine aid with the heavier stuff.

The brethren who are promoting this movement seem to feel that the trouble with evangelicalism is that it is not scholarly enough, that it cannot state itself in scientific terms. They appear to be chagrined by the chuckles of the learned liberals at the allegedly ignorant fundamentalists and have been needled into an attempt to prove that we evangelicals are not so dumb after all. They hope to make their point by equating Christian theology with Greek philosophy and the findings of modern science, and demonstrating that if the truth were known the Christian revelation is just good clean reason, nothing more. I pass over the pretty obvious fact that there is in all this more than a trace of the taint of mind-worship. And am I just seeing things or do I detect a deep and painful inferiority complex on the part of these apostles of evangelical-rationalism? But I won't call attention to it. I know how they feel.

Well, I believe these brethren are wrong. I believe they are as badly mixed up and confused as the peddlers of old wives' tales in Paul's day or the snake handlers of our own Ozark Mountains--only, of course, in a different and more respectable way. If they succeed in reducing Christianity to a philosophical proposition, they will do more damage to the true faith of Christ than liberalism, Catholicism and Communism combined.

[angelnumber27]

It’s a long shot that I could ever hate myself, I love myself — highly doubt you could say the same. You’re the one whose addicted, let’s not forget that. I see your posts and remember how fucking terrible you are. All you do is project, I wasn’t even talking about any subject matter; was literally just calling you a fiend, fentanyl whore.

awwww hahah ooooooookay lmfao whateeeeeever you say 🤣🤣🤣🤣 keep telling yourself that honey. if you loved yourself even in the slightest you wouldn’t send ugly hate anons to someone who doesn’t know you! That’s not how loving yourself works <3 you’re rancid and hateful and soooooooo MAD and that’s that :) I don’t do this gross childish shit like you and love myself more than it seems you could ever love anything. You have an ugly heart and a nasty ass attitude.

unfollow me if my posts make you remember how “fucking terrible I am” (false lmaooooooo) name one time I was “fucking terrible” baby girl.. if IM terrible what does that make you? Demented evil and irredeemable.

Would genuinely LOVE to hear what someone like you considers terrible and would LOVE to hear what you’re referring to. Because this is entirely unprovoked projection and I know for a fact I’ve done nothing to your random irrelevant ass. Clown.

I’m not the one projecting. My ask box literally says “don’t project” so I know you most definitely didn’t even know the meaning of that word bc clearly you dont have a very extensive vocabulary, so you just copied what my inbox said ☠️ And how dense are you that you cannot read the dozens of times I’ve mentioned that I am NO LONGER ADDICTED. You even got the drug wrong damn fool🤣 Haven’t been for almost a year and just watch, that’ll turn into several years. I’m so sorry (not) that that makes you SOOOO angry. But guess what? It has nothing to do with you. You have nothing to do with me. (Thank GOD) You’re someone who can easily be so UGLY even to strangers which makes me feel horrible for those who know you in real life and all of the other kind people/addicts in recovery you stalk and harass. You need to work on yourself a LOT, you need to try a LOT harder when it comes to reading comprehension and you need to start educating yourself (for once evidently) so badly and to find something better to do all day than taking the time and energy out of your day to do this childish immature ass shit. Are you nine years old? Have you never in your life known anyone effected by addiction? Id be surprised if you didn’t. Hope you don’t treat those people like you treat people on here. And do you just not have the mental capacity to understand that when someone gets clean from something, it means they’re no longer taking it? Like you really don’t get that???? LMAO. Do some extensive research and go to therapy regularly. You need it. This behavior is beyond disgusting, really hope you heal your ugly heart! 🖤 have a good life being horrible judgmental hateful bitter and jealous! None of that is my fault, or anyone else’s (it’s.. yours.) so you should stop taking all of that blatantly obvious self hate, pure ANGER and extreme insecurity out on people you’re jealous of or because of whatever disgusting urge you can’t control to attack people who don’t deserve it at all and are worlds better than you.

Why don’t you go try to do what I was on for four years and try to even go through 1/10000000000 of what I’ve been through. Doubt you’d survive in the first place. But keep speaking from a place of absolute idiocy and keep living your sad life of being unable to feel empathy :( You could NEVER do ANY of what I did, getting and STAYING completely sober from the most additive deadly substance on the planet at home by myself with no medical help. I did something beyond incredible and no matter what nasty people like you say, I’m so proud of myself and always will be :) as I should be. Clearly you could also never experience the extreme pain abuse and trauma I have and still be kind and loving to others (but you already knew that) you’d off yourself if you’d been through even the tiniest fraction of what I have. I’d hate myself too if I was like you :( so sad and horrid and SOOOO ANGRY. (Only difference is I wouldn’t take that out on other people who are doing better than me because I’m not an awful cunt) hope you don’t have anyone around you physically (I’m sure you don’t lol bc truly why would anyone want to be around that) because you obviously don’t have a shred of empathy or basic decency in that angry ass body of yours. I feel bad for you, it must be so hard to wake up this ignorant bitter and jealous every day.

I hope you get the professional help you desperately need to heal from your vile ugly heart and horrible personality bc this is so repulsive and so are you! If you need help finding therapists in your area I can send you links! :)

[intofclklore]

why is she here? 

again?

the first time, it had been mostly accidental. she’d heard the guy who owned the hand would be at the party, she’d heard the stories of it, but she hadn’t known what she was signing up for. she’d gotten the hell out of the room as soon as she saw it start to go down. put a wall between her and the demons. 

this time… well, she can’t say she didn’t know what she was signing up for. 

like most things in her life, she blames eddie munson. 

she’d purposely not told him about it back when she started hearing stories, because of this exact scenario. she knows he likes all things weird and freaky and creepy, and she hadn’t want to pique his interest. but her silence was for nothing, because apparently, eddie not only heard about it anyway, he heard about it before her. it’s one of his friends who has the hand.

she shouldn’t have even been surprised to learn this. 

so eddie goes to another hand party or whatever the hell they’re calling it and penny has no desire to go with him, but she does. not because she wants to. she goes to make sure eddie munson doesn’t get himself possessed.

she’s not eager, but she’s a little less terrified just at the mere sight of the thing this time. nothing bad happened last time. not to her, and not to the cackling group who had participated. at the least, she feels like she’s safe as long as she doesn’t join in. 

and eddie will be too because she’s not letting him do it either. 

she presses against his side on the couch, eyeing the hand on the table in front of them. too close for comfort for her liking. 

they’re still waiting for people to arrive, so it’s just sitting there for now.

waiting. 

“you’re not idiotic enough to believe this is real, are you?” she asks him, her voice soft but not quite a whisper. the room is crowded and everyone’s chatter is overlapping. 

his response comes in a tone that sounds like the answer should be obvious. “i am.”

“stupid question,” she mutters. “we’re just watching though, right? you’re not going to touch the thing?”

he hesitates. “well -”

“eddie!” she’s loud enough this time to get a few glances their way, but still, no one paying much attention. she huffs. “are you tripping right now? you cannot be that dumb.” 

he looks unbothered by her insults. “does this mean you’re not going to do it?” he asks, and he looks like he’s fighting a grin. 

asshole.

“you’re not funny. no.” she shakes her head in disbelief that he’d even ask her that. “i don’t mess with spirits.”

“what’s it matter?” he asks. he’s openly grinning now. “i thought it wasn’t real.”

penny glares. how dare he call her out on her flip flopping opinions. “bite me.” 

she stands, leaving him at the edge of the couch alone and going to sit in an empty chair on the other side of the room. not her best move because now she’s almost directly across from him and can see him still looking at her. she pointedly turns her head, staring at nothing just so he sees her not staring at him. 

penny is not above using guilt to convince him not to do it. she doesn’t think she’s wrong for worrying. not that she’ll use that word, but she’ll sure as hell feel it. 

this time, when they finally begin, and the first person takes their seat across from the hand, penny is brave. she stays sitting there. she’ll look. 

a part of her hopes it looks fake. she wants to be proven right. maybe then she can breathe if eddie does it. 

when he does.

two people go before his turn.

the first is catherine, who everyone knows has done theater for six years. so when she goes, when she makes it look realer than penny would like, it’s easy for her to tell herself she’s just acting. 

it’s less easy to explain away the eyes. god, they’re terrifying. blown and deep black and soulless. the few seconds that catherine spends looking at her makes penny want to cry, has her hands shaking in her lap. 

once grant from her french class goes, penny has an ever harder time denying the truth. grant has been pulling straight f’s in that class since the first semester, yet somehow, as his hand clasps the other, he’s speaking it fluently. 

penny’s pulling straight c’s, so she only understands about half of it, but she knows enough to know it sounds right. 

she catches the word ‘blood’ and promptly tunes out. no thanks. 

as particularly creepy as grant’s turn had been, he’s still laughing when the hand is pried from his grip. looking around, it seems like penny is the only one not laughing. her stomach hurts. she thinks she may actually be ill when eddie shoots up and switches places with grant. 

before he’s even finished being restrained, before he can get the words ‘talk to me’ out of his mouth, penny’s standing again. their eyes lock, and then she’s leaving the room. determined to make her point and let him know how mad she is at him for being this careless. she can’t believe he’s willing to mess with this sort of thing. she knows he likes his fantasy games and things, but this is real. 

and yes. this is her admitting it. there may be something real happening with the hand that she once thought was purchased at a halloween store. as good of an actress catherine is, grant’s just as much of a dumbass. he couldn’t fake that. and neither of them could fake those eyes… 

there’s a lump in her throat as she pictures those eyes on eddie. the life gone from them. 

she only goes out into the hallway. her feet freeze and won’t move, won’t let her go too far. won’t let her leave like she wants to. she can’t. not until she knows he’s done and he’s okay. that they get the hand off of him. at the last party, the one she bailed on early, she heard afterwards that they had trouble getting the hand off of carol. they did, she was fine, but she just wants to make sure nothing like that happens with eddie. needs to make sure that when that ninety second timer goes off, his hands are empty. 

“eighty seconds!” the time-keeper of the group calls out, and after a deep breath, penny turns back for the doorway. she doesn’t step foot back into the room, but she lingers just outside of it, her head peeking inside. 

it’s eddie’s friend jeff she sees grabbing the hand, tugging and tugging until eddie is free from it. just a split second before she hears the timer beeping. 

her shoulders deflate. she’s still pissed, but she’s mildly less tense. 

mildly. 

she takes another glimpse at him, making sure he’s smiling and not possessed by some evil spirit for the rest of his life now, and then she’s gone. 

[yhwhrulz]

Morning and Evening with A.W. Tozer Devotional for August 22

Tozer in the Morning Evangelical Intellectualism and the Spirit's Power

There has emerged lately in American Christianity a school of religious thought conceived in intellectual pride and dedicated to the proposition that everything of value in the Christian faith can be reduced to philosophical terms and understood by the human mind. The notion seems to be that anything God can utter we can comprehend, allowing possibly for the need of a little divine aid with the heavier stuff.

The brethren who are promoting this movement seem to feel that the trouble with evangelicalism is that it is not scholarly enough, that it cannot state itself in scientific terms. They appear to be chagrined by the chuckles of the learned liberals at the allegedly ignorant fundamentalists and have been needled into an attempt to prove that we evangelicals are not so dumb after all. They hope to make their point by equating Christian theology with Greek philosophy and the findings of modern science, and demonstrating that if the truth were known the Christian revelation is just good clean reason, nothing more. I pass over the pretty obvious fact that there is in all this more than a trace of the taint of mind-worship. And am I just seeing things or do I detect a deep and painful inferiority complex on the part of these apostles of evangelical-rationalism? But I won't call attention to it. I know how they feel.

Well, I believe these brethren are wrong. I believe they are as badly mixed up and confused as the peddlers of old wives' tales in Paul's day or the snake handlers of our own Ozark Mountains--only, of course, in a different and more respectable way. If they succeed in reducing Christianity to a philosophical proposition, they will do more damage to the true faith of Christ than liberalism, Catholicism and Communism combined.

Tozer in the Evening GIFTS AND GRACES

I go back often to Genesis 24 for the illustration and the figure in the Old Testament reminding us of the adornments of grace and beauty that will mark the believing Body of Christ. Abraham sent his trusted servant to his former homeland to select a bride for Isaac. The adornment of Rebekah's beauty consisted of jewels and the raiment that came as gifts of love from the bridegroom whom she had not yet seen. It is a reminder of what God is doing in our midst right now. Abraham typifies God the Father; Isaac, our Lord Jesus Christ, the heavenly Bridegroom. The servant who went with the gifts into the far country to claim a bride for Isaac speaks well of the Holy Spirit, our Teacher and Comforter. He gives us, one by one, the gifts and the graces of the Holy Spirit that will be our real beauty in His sight. Thus we are being prepared, and when we meet ou r coming Lord and King, our adornment will be our God-given graces!

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