#if i were to put them in a meat grinder

[manicdream13]

headcanon where ken is the prettiest guy allan’s ever seen so whenever ken looks at allan, allan looks back with the biggest pathetic puppy face

[selkieblood]

[parfaitblogs]

ive got quite a few... but we will start off simple and with something ive been DAYDREAMING about for a while

so reader is a new forensic scientist that started a lab in office for easier analysis of evidence (garcia reasonablism and best friendedness obviously) and earlier seasons reid likes to go in and hang out with her often and just be with her and they are both idiots in love and the first kiss is super rushed and akward; TEETH ROTTING FLUFF

i am too cryptic i fear but i will sell my left kidney for this fic PLEASE

spencer reid x forensic scientist!reader. fluff. 1.4k words. s1 spence!! descriptions of a case (typical cm stuff). std discussion? sorta? it's about a victim. reader doesn't have one don't worry. they're nerds your honour. 

a/n: i am SO sorry this took me so long?? writing fluff is not my strong suit (clearly). i researched bacteria for this fic. and std's. if penelope garcia looked up my search history she would ask why i'm asking about how to treat chlamydia. if the science talk is wrong, no it's not this is MY alternate reality. also i am but a wee acting major i know nothing about science? ANYWAYS thank u for the request angel it was so fun to write i hope i did it justice ♡ 

"Hey... I brought coffee."

Your head lifted from the computer screen you had been staring at for the past hour and a half, blinking your eyes to readjust to a light that wasn't blue — you were a big believer in warm toned overhead lights or nothing, and it was your first order of business upon getting a lab in the Quantico building. 

Your eyes softened upon recognising the man in your doorway, and your hands outstretched towards him to take the paper cup from him. 

It was a particularly gruelling case — a man putting victims through a meat grinder (charmingly so) meant your ability to positively ID victims based on... well, anything you'd usually ID them on, was out of the question. You were down to tampered with blood samples, and you were getting nothing. 

"Angel. Sent from heaven, I swear," you said, taking a sip of the warm, sweet (because anybody who drinks coffee black should be locked up) beverage that would help you in the long run. Spencer Reid's lips twitched into a smile — anxious, like the rest of him usually is whenever he's in your lab — and he dropped his gaze to the floor with a small shrug. 

"I thought you might need it. I know it's hard. This case," he said, and you nodded your head with an affirming nod.

"Tell me about it," you mumbled, spinning around in your chair, back to your computer, waving him over. "See this?" you pointed to the list of findings in one of the samples.

Your breathing hitched when you felt him behind you, not expecting him to be so close, his own breath audible by your ear. 

He hummed quietly as he read through the list, and you turned your head to the side to look at him. His lips were pulled into a frown as you watched him register everything — and God, was he pretty. "Yeah... Salmonella, Enteritidis, Listeria... they're all bacteria you can find in chicken. Raw chicken, to be precise. Did they send you chicken blood by mistake?" 

"That's what I thought," you said, snapping out of your Reid-induced-haze, and clicked at your computer until you pulled up another list. "But then I found these as well; Streptococcus mutans, Porphyromonas gingivalis, Fusobacterium and Lactobacillus. From the same sample. And I cross-checked it with all of them, and they're all like that. So I sent that to Garcia and asked if she could do some looking into butcher shops in the area, and she came up empty. So now I'm at a loss."

"Weird," he murmured, leaning further forward over your shoulder to stare at the screen a little more intently, and you found your breath hitching at it. Again.

"What do you see?"

"Chlamydia trachomatis."

"Oh. Yeah, all of the samples have it," you explained, and he nodded his head, before turning it to look at you. 

"Well, what do you do when you have a sexually transmitted disease?" he asked.

"Me? I don't—I don't know. I've never had a—" you cut yourself off when you saw his lips twitch into a smile, and your brain caught up with what he had just said, and your lips parted in an 'o' shape in realisation. "You'd go to your doctor."

"And if they all have it, then that means that—"

"—it's the UnSub whose got it," you cut him off, eyes lighting up as you sat up straighter. "Oh my God, I don't know how I didn't make that connection. Spencer Reid I need to reiterate that you are an angel sent from the heaven above, I could kiss you."

His eyes went wide, and his entire being froze, followed swiftly by you yourself freezing too, words you let spill past your lips registering a second too late. 

He stared at you. You stared at him. It was an awkward game of who would look away first, and it went on for hour long minutes. You needed to clear your throat but refused to, your lips opening and closing as you searched your brain for something — anything — to say to break up this tension.

"Are you serious?"

It was a meek whisper, and had you not been so hyper focussed on his lips, you probably would've missed it. You forced your gaze up to his eyes, catching the red tinge on his cheeks, mirroring your own. You decided if the one in a billion chance of a black hole swallowing the earth decided to happen now, you wouldn't complain.

"I mean, no," you force past your lips. A sentence you soon sorely regret when you watch a flicker of what you recognise to be hurt flash across his face. Maybe your brain made that expression up. Maybe it didn't. If it did, it was too late to consider that option, because you were already rambling again. "Unless you want me to be serious. In which case yes, I am totally serious. If not, then I'm not."

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and an embarrassingly nervous laugh left your lips. 

"Yes. I'm serious," you finalised. Because at least if he found that embarrassing and didn't feel the same back, you could kick him out of your lab and avoid him until you manage to swap units. Or move halfway across the world. Whichever came first.

Neither needed to come first, it seemed. Because his tense body shifted, turning to face you, his own eyes seemingly locked on your lips, the same way yours were only minutes prior. 

"Is it okay if I..." he trailed off, a hesitant hand reaching up to your face, waiting for your confirming nod before his fingertips relaxed on your cheek. You weren't even kissing him yet, and you already felt that nervous-excited mix pooling in your stomach.

He was in the same boat as you, his own breathing hitching when you didn't pull away instantly from his touch. But then he simply stared at you, for maybe a minute too long, because an exasperated sigh left your lips before you could stop it.

"You know, you actually have to put your lips on mine to kiss, Spencer," you say, and though your intent wasn't to fluster him, you did. 

"Yes, I—um, I know. I've just never... what if I screw this up?" he stammered, and your lips pulled into a smile. 

"Worst thing you can do is be a bad kisser."

"That's embarrassing."

"Just a little," you agreed with a nod, watching his face fall, and you laughed at the expression. "I'm kidding. It's not that hard, and you're good at everything."

"Not this."

"You don't know that."

He fell silent, and you knew you had won the verbal argument — he was certainly still disagreeing in his mind, but he was always good at picking his battles. 

But you knew he was never going to kiss you first. Not when one hand was flexing weirdly by his waist, unsure of what to do with it, and he was so awkwardly holding one cheek with the other. 

It was the only reason why you placed two palms on his own cheeks and pulled his face towards you. He let out a shocked yelp that had you laughing for only a second, cutting the sound off short with your lips on his. 

Spencer Reid was in fact good at everything. 

He was hesitant at first, and you wondered if he was ever going to kiss you back. But he did, and then you wondered if he was lying about never kissing anybody before.

Because he was insanely good, and the way he kissed you was maddening and addictive and it seemed you were (addictive) as well, for he was chasing your lips even when you tried to pull away. So you didn't, and instead allowed him to keep kissing you with so much pace and force you thought you'd break. 

"Spence... can't... breathe," you gasped out, and he pulled back in an instant, his eyes going wide. 

He was stammering out apologies that fell on deaf ears, because you were staring at him and he was gorgeous. In every sense of the word. With hair that had fallen into his glassy eyes, cheeks as pink as his lips that were screaming to be kissed again, need for oxygen be damned. 

And actually, if the one in a billion chance of a black hole swallowing the earth decided to happen now, you would complain. Very loudly.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[littlestpersimmon]

I really just want to fucking vomit when I see other Jews denounce us and curse our names to be forgotten, knowing that this kind of insult is reserved for literal nazis- just because we have, principles.

Yitgadal v’yitkadash sh’mei raba b’alma di-v’ra chir’utei.

I don't know, I feel like I am going insane, living my life under the fascist duterte regime, I know my own kind can be depraved, cruel and brutal. I also have lived my life as someone who was more "jew-ish" rather than "actual jew", and I've been excluded and denied for my appearance and upbringing. I know Israel banned Yiddish and Yiddish literature but when put in scrutiny then suddenly the shoah is brought up multiple times. I've known Israel to treat white converts so much better than they treat Ethiopian Jews and other Jews of color, but when a white convert was kiIled, she was not allowed to be buried in a Jewish cemetery. Ultimately, apartheid relies on Jews knowing only one monolithic and artificial identity rather than the rich and diverse cultures we have in diaspora- Israel depends on Jews being afraid and clinging to it as indoctrinated cash cows to continue to remain beneficial to the global north, whom are funding their military.

I'm in tears thinking about how Israelis have told me I had no right to wear my magen David for having the audacity to fucking weep over the ark of bodies left before the world to see. How can so many call this bastardization judaism. How can so much of jewry turn up their noses over this. I've seen Israel do literally the same things that the duterte regime has done to fellow filipinos, I've seen both deny human rights and try to get any forces that work for human rights decommissioned, I've seen bodies pile up high because their families were too much in danger to claim them and give them proper burials, and I've seen both filipinos and israeli jews say "where is the proof that this brutality is happening" or "not nearly enough have died.", n the fact that people who have literally argued with holocaust deniers still have the audacity to say "hm! This sounds like a conspiracy! It must be fake!" When human rights watch themsleves have confirmed that idf forces left literal babies to melt into their mattresses, when the American government themselves bragged about sending exploding meat grinders to Israel, when random journalists keep having to find someone else from Gaza to be interviewed because the one they were supposed to talk with died from carpet bombing or whatever else. And so much more. Your own can do depraved and immoral things, and judaism says that you cannot stand for this cruelty. You must not!! Judaism is and will always be the antithesis of inaction!!

I know people from Egypt and people from Lebanon feel complicit just from not being able to do enough, how can so many Jews say nothing to a genocide literally being done in our names, by an ethnostate that ultimately will not care about us. Why HaShem, why is this happening!!

Y’hei sh’lama raba min sh’maya, v’hayim, aleinu v’al koi yisrael, v’imru amen.

[nimpnawakproduction]

The ultimate reference sheets for all of Vash's outfits in Trigun maximum (with commentaries)

IT IS DONE. I'M FREE. Now I can forget all about Trimax and draw Trigun stampede designs only hahaha (just kidding I have things for Trimax on the stove).

Trigun bookclub was an awesome initiative, I loved the manga with my all heart and wanted to honor Nightow's designs ;w; I also wanted to help my fellow artists with references for Vash's clothes because DEAR GOD it's difficult to understand how the hell he dresses himself in the morning. I have a lot of fun dressing and undressing him like a barbie doll. My hyperfixation is completely healthy.

I put a "read more" section to avoid spoilers :) !

The July coat

The very first coat in Trigun chronology and the one he wores during the destruction of July ! There is not a lot of panels to take references but I tried to stay as close as possible to the manga. I don't know what number of prosthesis he had before but let name this one Prosthesis 1.

Scars map

Next, nakey Vash ! There's A LOT of changes between one panel to another. Scars changes places and forms panel to panel and the design evolved from the first chapters of Trigun, the time we see him naked as Eriks and his undressed state while he was a prisoner on the Ark. I drew the scars that appeared more than once or were in clean view in a panel (but really you can do like Nightow and draw as many scars as you want without thinking about consistency, this boy has been in a meat grinder)

After July underclothes

Or the jumpsuit that gave me grey hair. His suit does not make ANY sense, I don't know how the hell he dresses himself in the morning with this. My solution is that it's very long gloves and chaps strapped to a belt. The position and shapes of the belts changes IN EVERY PANEL. Same for his knee guards, sometimes they're here, sometime they cover his shins, sometimes they are tiny..... I gave up in the end and draw them as we see them in the very last panel he wears this suit. But damn he looks good in it.

Also in all of the 13 volumes, there is not a single panel with a clear view of his holster (I checked...) so here is my interpretation.

This is prosthesis n°2, the design is a little different from the first one so I guess Prosthesis 1 got destroyed (this happens a lot).

After July coat

The very first Trigun coat he wears in the manga ! Very simple, very basic, it gives him impossibly wide shoulders but Vash deserves it. The first one is worn Post July until Vash's confrontation against Brilliant Dynamite Neon. The second one is the state of his coat after the sandsteamer incident. He loses his prothesis after his fight against Monev the gale. He meets Wolfwood with only one arm and stays that way while he fights Knives for the first time.

Eriks

I took liberties with colors because there's no colored panels with Vash as Eriks. Yes I drew him without suspenders because he has them for like 5 panels and then Nightow drew him without them for the rest of Eriks arc so I made choices ;w;

I love the fact that Vash choose to wear tight jeans even in his casual outfits, this boy will not let his skin breath. This is now Prosthesis 3 ! It's way less advanced than the ones he wore in the rest of the manga, the other ones seem to replicate skin.

After his years as Eriks

And now the first Maximum coat, he wears it until the famous Yuri hospital arc! Finally an undersuit that makes sense, I love it, too bad Nightow-san decided that I had to suffer and changed it again to add BELTS EVERYWHERE. We only see his legs in this part of the manga so I gave him the same top because I can.

The tubes he has on his waist are filled with bullets, he can connect them to his prosthesis to have a mini machine gun.

We are now at Prosthesis 4 !

Hospitalization on the Home ship

The famous Yuri hospital phase! Vash definitely shared his wardrobe with Wolfwood, you can't tell me otherwise.

The first outfit still shows Prothesis 4 but he keeps it for like 5 minutes and lost it again against Nine-lives. I don't really know if the prothesis comes with the integrated glove or if there's synthetic skin under it but why would he keep the glove on if it's not intergrated?

The second pictures is the different outfits he wears during his convalescence. I took liberties with the colors, I drew this in like 10 minutes, everything seems easy when you don't have to draw BELTS. We are now on Prothesis 5 ! Nightow drew it as a regular arm so I guess Vash wears gloves on top of it??????

Back on the road in pursuit of Knives

He wears this one after his stay at Home, throughout the Dragon's nest ark and until his 2nd fight against Knives.

I liked the design of his jumpsuit until I looked closer at the panels and saw that the design change ON EVERY ONE OF THEM. Knee guard on only one knee? No kneeguards? Two??? WHO KNOWS ??? I tried to make it work but really go wild with this one, even the author does not know how his pant looks.

Still prosthesis 5, BUT UNTIL WHEN?

Prisoner on the Ark

THEY MASSACRED MY BOY. Did they even feed him at least in 7 months? Those pictures are the definition of the drenched kitty cat left under the rain. Give this man a blanket and a therapist.

Bye bye Prothesis 5 ! And see what I mean when I say that his outfit does not make sense????? It comes out in parts????

After his imprisonment on the Ark

The last suit in the manga! He keeps this coat until the end of the story. From this point, only his hair changes (or the color of his coat).

I adore the little angel wing symbol on his left arm, such a cute addition. Too bad it appears in one of the most traumatic event of his life.

Speaking of his jumpsuit...The return of belts.... But at least this outfit stays relatively coherent except for his kneeguards who appear and disappear panel from panel but most of the time he doesn't have any, so no kneeguard it is. Prosthesis 6 hello !

Final battle and end of the story

It hurted to drew those outfits ;w; And working on the design of his coat when he fights Legato made me realize where Orange studio took inspiration to chose the colors for Vash's coat in the final episode of Stampede ! Great job ! I tried to color the same effects as one of the illustrations showing dark Vash but I'm not really good with colors..... He actually radiates energy but with some purple undertones, I took some liberties because those are my drawings I do what I want.

I'm not sure at 100% that he has a tuft of blond hair left when his outfit turns black but his hair is all black at the end of the fight. His prosthesis is destroyed at the end of the fight. He got another one in the final chapter. So 7 prosthesis throughout the story!

[sinning-23]

Fishbowl (Buggy x Siren!Reader)

I hope you guysss like this one lol it’s been in the works for a minute and is one of the last in the siren/mermaid series! Also sorry for any spelling errors! This one with be a two part red and definitely some angst? Or at least I’ll try lol angst isn’t exactly my specialty!

Anyway, ENJOY!

Your nails claw at the glass, leaving scrapes and indents in their wake. After being captured by these pirates, you were transported to a large glass dome on wheels. You were panicking, the screeching from your echolocation making passerby’s of the crew cover their ears and double over.

Why you? You hadn't even been by the ship...they just pulled up to the shore of your home island firing cannons as your sisters swam for cover. You directed them, helping them escape only to be grabbed by the hair an dragged to the shore before you could make your escape.

Any mermaid knew what happened when they were captured.... fin scales used for jewelry, the rich meat of your tails used in rare dishes. The your teeth would be grinder down to pearl like where’s, drilled for necklaces. Nausea builds in the pit of your stomach. This was it.

He approached you, lifting you by your hair as your gills opens and close at the side of your neck, an unpleasant, wet sounding “gasp” filling the silence.

“What a treat. My audience is gonna love you.”

You swallow hard, native tongue sliding off with venom. He sneers at this.

“Too bad I can’t understand you sweets.” Buggy chuckles.

He’s got your arm in an uncomfortable grip as he drags you across the sand and flings you into another crewmate. I’m some kind of silent agreement the carry you across the sandy beach to the temporary tank. Your stomach turns, glittery tears falling down your cheeks.

Currently, you keep clawing, scratching, and screeching, and the glass begins to crack at this latest noise. You needed to get out. But before you can fix your voice to scream again, he enters.

"Please shut your mouth sweetheart. You're not going anywhere.” He explains with a roll of his eyes.

You speak again, and of course, he can understand but it’s something along the lines of,

“I’ll kill you when I get out of here.”

_____4 months______

You scratched a tally for each day you were there, the fishbowl now adorned with a stand and a pretty label in fancy blue ribbon and gold paint. He forced you to act in his shows, putting your gifted set of pipes “to good use”. Even though your siren song was powerful, its intended purpose seemed to fade away.

Every song you sang, the sorrow of being captured poured into your notes, making the audience ever more mournful than they already were. Your songs and performances almost always ended in tears now, Buggy’s crew opting to wear earplugs in fear they’d end their lives then and there if they heard one more melancholic tune.

Buggy, on the other hand, was beginning to grow ever impatient. The first two months of shows had gone just fine! His crew and audience were so enamored by your beauty and sound. Now it was just pitiful. But even though it pissed him off his own decisions led to failure, he couldn’t help but want your gorgeous set of pipes to himself.

Often, he’s caught himself in a daze, wondering what it feels like to have you sing him to sleep, your hands caressing his face with a smile and he pulls into a sense of security. Fat chance though…

Besides, you hadn’t even really been properly introduced since that day he surprise adopted you(kidnapped). Perhaps he should make conversation? He shakes his head at the thought, sitting in his designated chair, just watching.

Your scales flash and flicker sparkles of light in the empty tent. Maybe that’s why he captured you in the first place? You were beautiful. And his did he love seeing those pretty glittery tears roll down your cheeks when you’d first met.

A smile plays over his lips when you catch him staring, your eyes narrowing for a moment before you press against the glass, blowing bubbles at him from under the water. You say something he can’t quite hear.

In a curious haze, he stands, walking up to your fishbowl, looking at each tally you’d engraved into the glass.

“Why won’t you let me go?” You hum, the water making your voice somehow sound prettier that ever, the slight muffle making him hum.

“Because I like sad songs.” He jokes, circling your glass prison.

How typical of him, to joke in a serious situation like this, well serious to you at least. He really takes time to observe you, the way your scales seem to be some sort of opalescent chrome.

How your hair floats around your face, your gills opening and closing ever so slightly. He admires the smaller fins adorning your spine and forearms. He wonders if you’re insecure about them.

“Sing for me.”

It’s a demand, and before you can protest, he’s already back in his chair, watching, resting his head against his closed fist.

Even though you feel obligated, your voice and song feel softer now. Almost as if the small interaction with the captain had only slightly lifted your spirit.

And somehow your hymn didn’t seem so dismal.

[luxthestrange]

RoR Incorrect quotes#163 LETS PORTY

After You were told you couldn't enter the tournament... that's why they put you in a cage to stop you...only now your grounded in your room-

Y/n*Knocking on the door of their room*Can I come out, please?

Buddha: No, Go back to bed

Y/n:...PLEEEEEEEEEASE LET ME OUT

Adam*Is caving in and holding their chest*Oh pleeeeease...let them out

Y/n*Pouts and thinks*...I want a drink of water!

Lu bu: You just had one!

Y/n:...I have to go to the bathroom!

Jack*Chuckles at your other plot*You went already!

Y/n:...PLEASE LET ME OUT*sticking fingers through the gap of the door*

Nikola*Is starting to cave in more*...Aw!~Look at those little fingers~

Kojiro: Aw our lil gremlin reaching out for physical contact?

Leonidas*Came to check on them and watched the whole interaction, Noticing you four about to cave into you*Come on, Gentlemen Hang tough~HOLD ON HERE

Y/n*Sniffles and whimpers*DONT YOU LOVE ME ANYMORE?!

Leonidas*Felt his heart explodes with guilt*...

Leonidas*Looking at you four*WHAT ARE YOU MADE OF STONE OR SOMETHING!?-Watch out my dear! We're coming in!*Opens the door*

Y/n*Gleams and runs out the door with fists up in air*LETS PARTY DUDE!

part 2 of:

[peppermintquartz]

Based on my ask and the reply from @so-that-was-okay

-

By the fourth one, it is clear to everyone that the guys Tommy happens to know are his exes or former dates.

Number 1: Cruise ship cook Mark is tall - six foot three - and as cheerful as a retriever, even when he had to be rescued from a mishap in a professional kitchen he borrowed for a YouTube video. At least he kept his cool and his hand safe - that meat grinder could have caused some very serious damage. And the moment he saw Buck, he exclaimed, "Oh my god, I've seen you, you're Tommy's boyfriend! How is he?" He loved telling Buck about Tommy's favorite dishes and even shared recipes with him. (Also the team got a free five-course meal out of it as thanks.)

Number 2: Geologist Hyun Ki was, again, tall, strong, and had a store of encyclopedic knowledge, specifically about cave structures. He was the guy Tommy recommended to advise if limestone was toxic to humans and also about how to best remove a stalagmite from their subject's posterior with minimal damage to the actual stalagmite, which had been illegally taken from a caving expedition and was to be evidence. Hyun Ki had not been pleased about the offender removing "a marvel of nature that took thousands of years to form and it's a STALAGMITE with a G for ground, you criminal moron, STALACTITES are the ones from the ceilings" to stick into his ass, and tells the team all about his various expeditions.

Number 3: Marine Biologist Bryan is tanned, blond, surfs on his days off, and built like a tank. He also smiles a great deal, greeting both Tommy and Buck warmly at the aquarium and then jumping in to assist when one of the new glass windows exploded. The 118 showed up, helped the aquarium to hustle the shocked visitors out and treat a kid who had been pressing his face to the glass just as it shattered while the aquarium staff did their best to rescue the fish that had fallen out of their tanks.

Number 4: Leg model Stephen had lean and elegant limbs, and was excellent at making jewelry and statues out of scrap metals. That was not the reason for calling on him; he had found his neighbor, who owned the scrapyard where Stephen got his materials, trapped under several steel car chassis, though one was keeping tons of metal from crushing him utterly. That had been tricky for the team, seeing it as high stakes Jenga. Buck and Stephen have a great chat once Stephen sees Buck's phone wallpaper, both commiserating over Tommy's inability to put a damn shirt on while doing something involving sparks or fire when at home.

-

"All those guys you know turned out to be your exes or failed dates," Buck says. He is more amused than anything else. Those guys were interesting and fun. If Buck had gone out with them, he'd have kept their contacts too and stayed friends. "And, Hen says, all are kinda like me. Or I'm kinda like them."

"Like you?"

"Tall, strong, good with hands, cheerful... It appears you have a type, Firefighter Kinard."

"Well, Firefighter Buckley, I honestly have never seen the similarities until this moment.*

Buck believes him. Tommy's only ever been honest with him, even when it's an uncomfortable truth. He props his chin on the middle of his boyfriend's chest and studies his handsome face. "Tommy?"

Tommy smiles fondly. "Yeah?"

"Will I ever be one of the guys you 'happen to know' for something?" He doesn't put in air quotes, trusting that Tommy has listened to him ramble often enough to understand what he's saying.

Tommy's smile softened. "I hope not. I want you to be my guy. The one guy of all the guys."

Buck's heart grows warm and light. "Yeah? What would I be the one guy for?"

Tommy's caress along his birthmark and jawline is achingly tender. "For the rest of my life."

For a split second Buck feels the world stop, and then it rights itself, and the weight of what Tommy's said sweeps joy over him like an unexpected wave.

But for a moment Tommy's smile falters. "I know it's too early for that," he murmurs, a little sheepish, "but I mean it."

Buck lunges forward and kisses the smile back on Tommy's face.

"I know. And, okay, maybe it is early, but for what it's worth? I want to be your guy," Buck affirms. He presses another kiss to Tommy's warm mouth, lingering and gentle, before he adds, "For the rest of our lives."

[sirfrogsworth]

Grampa's Antique Fan (2015 vs 2024 Edit)

As a young man, after coming home from the Second World War, my grampa got a job as an electrician for Emerson Electric. He didn't work on the actual electrical products. He just maintained the electrical systems that power the tools to make electrical components.

It was a "I heard you need electricity for your electricity" type deals.

The company was founded in 1890 in nearby Ferguson, Missouri by John Wesley Emerson. He was a Union commander in the Civil War and a lawyer and then a judge and then an author and then a historian... so he was clearly qualified to run one of the first electronics companies. (This is currently referred to as the "Law of Elon".)

Emerson (the company, not the dude) specialized in electric motors and was the first to stick their motors in a fan and sell them.

As you can see by the 4 protective fan guard loopies, these were very safe for kids to be around.

I mean, the biggest thing you could shove in there is a baby arm, which is the least important part of a baby. No baby heads were chopped off—which was the bar for consumer safety during that era.

Fans are rated by the volume of air they can push over a period of time and your average box fan can push about 1400 cubic feet per minute or "CFM". When this Emerson (the fan, not the dude) was produced they actually used "CCH" or cubic cubits per hour. Emerson (the dude) loved using odd standards of measurement much to the chagrin of his engineers.

Due to the small surface area, weak angle of attack, and heavy metal blades, this electronic beast could only push a baker's dozen cubic cubits per baker's hour—which was a confusing metric of time because people were very superstitious and they refused to put the 13 on the baker's clocks. They just left a mysterious blank void after the 12 and apparently several people had existential crises during the baker's hour. Some were institutionalized for a rare condition called Time Delirium.

Thankfully Emerson Electric was able to provide the electroshock therapy devices that cured several patients. This was achieved by erasing the memory of the traumatic time delirium events along with a few other unimportant details like what they did last Tuesday and their mother's name and one engineering degree that the guy wasn't even using.

My dad actually got the fan working and let me tell you... that bad boy could really work up a gentle breeze...

...if you stood behind it and blew.

And that fine American-made electric fan motor was just as quiet as a leaf blower on Saturday morning.

Over the last century, Emerson was bought and sold and bought and sold.

And bought and sold and bought and sold.

Was that 7?

Eh, close enough. We'll call it a baker's 7.

They changed their product line countless times over their 130+ years of existence. After fans they pivoted and made electric meat grinders. To this day, no one know what inspired that decision.

Currently, they make radar avionics and are majority-owned by the private equity firm, Blackstone. Which is a totally non-evil sounding name they chose for their company-eating empire. Please ignore that the CEO was one of Trump's policy strategists. This is a non-evil company with a non-evil name run by non-evil people, okay?

Despite Emerson Electric having to settle a baker's gross of lawsuits involving a few lightly scalp'd babies, they maintain a Fortune 500 status and are still headquartered in Ferguson.

They occupy one of the most boring ass buildings ever constructed.

Just rectangles all the way down.

That architect told every angle to get rect.

Of course, I forgot all of this cool history and sold this fan in the estate auction. I suppose it is a good thing I got a nice photograph to help assuage my current feelings of guilt. I mean, it is not baby scalping, time delirium guilt—but I would feel better if I knew my gramp-gramp's fan was in a good home with 0 babies.

[python333]

since i just woke up from one and came here to seek comfort and get it out of my head,i had the idea of "why not ask them if they'd like to write such a thing?" So here i am.

The main thing is reader having a really grotesque, explicit and horrific nightmare (that's how most of mine are) could be getting tortured,put in a meat grinder,you get it,work your magic and write as you wish haha.And after they wake up with a heavy and tight chest, horrified naturally,it being out of their control,could you have the 141 members comfort us? Perhaps one way of getting most of their reactions would be setting up a scenario where they had to camp and sleep in the same place, something of the sorts,so yeah.

Honestly still not over the nightmare yet that shit was horrific haha,but yeah,hope this'll be a nice writing for you,if you wish to do so.Take great care of yourself dear,and take as many breaks as you need<3

how the sausage gets made — python333

— — — —

synopsis you have a very graphic nightmare, the 141 comforts you!!!

relationships platonic! 141 & gn! reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 3.2k

warnings nightmare about getting put through a meat grinder (not too graphic, but the imagery is still there), usage of [c/n] (code name/call sign), 2nd person pov (you/yours/youself)

note hi!! this is actually right up my alley, i really enjoyed writing this!! :D hopefully this somewhat comforts you/helps you get over the nightmare, and hopefully this was horrific enough for you!! ALSO i have a discord server now!! enjoy :3

You’re in some sort of freezer, it seems. 

Your vision is a bit blurred at the edges, and your head feels awfully heavy, making it hard to keep upright on your neck. Your shoulders feel tight and tense, as though the muscles in them were physically bundled and tied into tight knots. Though, they aren’t tense in the way they typically are. Somewhere in the back of your mind—as your gaze wanders around the blue-tinted room you lay in—you can recall times after sparring sessions with a few of your teammates when your shoulders felt tight, and it was nothing like this. Those times, you could feel the knots as though they grew roots from your shoulders to your wrists. Unlike now, your shoulders feel lighter than those times. 

Those times. You aren’t sure what “those times” refers to. All you can see and think about is the light blue tiling of the ceiling above you. It’s strange; you’ve only seen tiling like that on dingy bathroom floors in the public gym you used to go to. It’s never been on the ceiling like that. Huh. 

You can’t really feel your hands, which is even stranger. You know where they are—they’re right at your sides, laying on the stingingly cold concrete floor of whatever room you’re in—and can hear the echoing taps they give whenever you lift and hit them lightly against the floor, but yet they feel numb. You move one of them, not nearly as off-put by the numbness as you should be, and lift it up and over your face. It looks normal. No, yeah, that’s my hand alright. Don’t know what I expected. 

You put the hand back on the ground and using both hands you push yourself up from the floor, letting out a small grunt as you do. It takes an uncanny amount of force to push yourself upwards, but you manage to do so anyway, and you finally have a look at the room around you. You look ahead of you. Blue tarp. It’s shiny and almost looks woven, and if you squint your eyes enough, it looks grainy. You look to your left. More blue tarp. It’s of the same quality, the same quantity, and is in all aspects the exact same as the other blue tarp. You make a quick prediction before looking to your right, and, lo and behold, another blue tarp. How shocking. 

It looks the same as the other two. Frowning, you look behind you, and surprisingly you are not met with yet another blue tarp. This time, there’s a large, shiny, stainless steel machine behind you. It’s a good ten feet away, about the same distance away as the tarps, and for some reason it beckons to you. Like Princess Aurora to her spinning wheel, you find the strength to push yourself up to your feet completely, and immediately you begin walking towards the metal machine without much resistance. 

It doesn’t really hit you that you have no idea what this machine is or what it does. You don’t think you’ve seen anything like it. As you get closer, you can see a few items strung from the ceiling past the machine; weird plastic-clear looking tubes that are linked together in the same way clowns at parties twist balloons, and there’s iron-cast skillets hung on the ceiling from invisible hooks. Huh. Weird. Despite the oddities of the items strung from the ceiling, you keep walking towards the machine. 

When you get even closer, the machine becomes less blurred and comes more into focus. It looks completely untouched. There’s a large funnel at the top, one that requires a ladder to get to—conveniently, there’s a ladder set up on and welded to the machine itself—and beneath that is a horizontal tube that tapers off into a smaller, funnel-like shape at the end with a much smaller opening. You tilt your head curiously at the machine. It’s so shiny. Though, the longer you stare at it, the grainier it gets. 

Suddenly, cutting through your thoughts, you feel a harsh push at your back that almost has you knocking into the machine. Before you can even turn around to see who felt that they had the audacity to push you so harshly, that same entity that pushed you quickly lifted you into the air. Whatever they’re using to hold you up feels like absolutely nothing—as if they were just gathering enough air molecules to swoop you up. 

“H—” You try to protest, but your throat doesn’t work. Before you can say anything, it just gives out, and leaves you wheezing for a moment before trying again only to discover that, to your horror, you cannot talk. 

Your throat seems to close up every time you try to say anything. All that comes out are breathy wheezes and coughs that leave a strangely bad pain in your chest. As you try to stop your coughing, whatever is picking you up quickly dumps you into the large funnel on top of the machine. It’s cold and bites at your skin unforgivingly, making you hiss in discomfort. You don’t even clock how the cold is irritating your skin, despite you being fully clothed and none of your bare skin being exposed to the metal of the machine. 

You try to move your hands to the sides of the funnel to push yourself up, but you move at a painfully slow speed, and can’t do anything but stand still. Like a mannequin, you’re forced into a standing position and can’t do anything but stand in the funnel. You look down, and you’re standing on what seems to be some sort of cylinder. The bottom of the funnel ends around your mid-calf. 

Oddly, this reminds you of those nightmares you used to have when you were younger, where you were running from something or someone but moved too slow to get away. 

Suddenly, the cylinder begins to move. 

It spirals in place, making you quickly lose your balance and soon you’ve fallen in a lying position on the cylinder as it turns. It starts at a slow pace but starts to speed up, in time with your panic. You try to scramble to your feet but your limbs don’t allow it, keeping you stuck in place, the cylinder starting to turn even faster. 

You’re uncomfortably folded and pushed through the small ending of the funnel as the cylinder keeps moving, and once you’re through, you start to hear a strange whirring. 

It’s loud and sounds like some sort of shitty metal fan. It clangs against the sides of whatever tube you’re in and occasionally makes a horrible screeching noise that, if you could, you would cover your ears to escape. You turn your head to the side ever-so-slightly and see the “metal fan” itself—four sharp blades that spin clockwise, with a weird hole-filled circle behind them. You furrow—or, well, try to at least—your eyebrows at the sight. 

The fuck is that? You don’t realize you’re getting closer to it. 

The cylinder is now turning at an exceptionally fast pace, and only when you’re a few feet from the blades do you realize just how close you are to them. 

“Wait—” You finally find your voice, though it sounds far away and is muddy in your ears, “Stop, stop—” 

You’re not sure what else to say. You can’t tell if you’re begging, commanding, demanding, or anything of the sort. All you know is that the cylinder is going faster and faster, at an almost punishing pace that leaves you wondering what you could’ve done to deserve whatever the hell is happening to you. The blades emit an ungodly screech each time they get caught on a bump on the insides of the tube, and as you get even closer you can spot bright orange rust on the blades. 

The texture is enough to make you gag. You’re getting closer, and closer, and soon you’re barely a foot away from it. The screeching and the whirring is so loud. You can’t hear anything else—or, wouldn’t be able to hear anything else, if there was anything else to be heard. 

You can barely continue your train of thought before you feel a sharp, cold rush through your ankle. 

You hadn’t been paying enough attention. You didn’t realize how close your feet had gotten to the blades. 

The sound it had made when it was cut off was sickening. A loud pop, the same kind of pop that sounds when you break open the tab of a can. You open your mouth to scream but nothing comes out, and suddenly the rest of your leg is getting shredded by those same blades, and dear God, it’s so cold. It feels like dry ice cutting right through your calves, making its way up to your knees, soon to your thighs, much faster than you can process. 

Your thoughts come in small fleets that go as soon as they come and you’re never able to continue or dwell on a single one, always getting interrupted by the white-cold pain that literally cuts through your upper thighs. You can’t feel anything from the waist down. You can’t feel your legs, your feet, and you’re losing feeling in your hips—

Your hands desperately grasp at the cylinder, and you’re not sure what you’re doing but you’re trying to do something, anything, as long as it delays the inevitable shredding of your torso and head. But it doesn’t work. Of course it doesn’t. Whatever you had intended to do doesn’t work, and soon there’s a sharp cold pain that cuts into your ribcage, and suddenly you can’t even feel your stomach. 

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you can recognize the small sobs that escape you. 

Your chest is the next to go, and soon it’s your shoulders, and even though they’re not gone yet your hands have already gone numb, and you’re bracing yourself for the sharp-cold pain to reach your neck when suddenly—

You wake up, body immediately getting into an upright sitting position and your chest heaving as sweat drips down your forehead. The sweat is cold and your breathing is loud in your ears, your ears which are filled with ringing, the sound of just anything enough to make your breath hitch and a sob crawl into your throat. With open-mouthed pants, you blink rapidly at the space in front of you, before quickly raising your hands to your face and letting out a loud, shaky sigh when you can actually feel the air moving through your fingers. 

They aren’t numb. You plant them on the ground and just feel around, the rough fabric of your tent gliding under your hands. You shake your head vigorously, letting out another relieved sigh when you find that it’s still attached to your neck and hasn’t been sliced through. You move your legs and they’re still attached to your body. Everything is still on you. You’re in the same clothes you went to sleep in. You have all of your body parts. You are in one piece. Nothing is missing. You’re fine. 

Despite repeating to yourself that everything’s okay—you’re physically together, you’re in a tent in the middle of the fucking woods and the worst thing that could happen to you is getting jumped by a bear in your sleep—nothing feels okay. There’s still the phantom feeling of getting put through a meat grinder that keeps a perpetual tremble in your bones, that keeps you unknowing of how to act like you’re in one piece. Not act. You are in one piece. But you aren’t. You swear, even though it was just some stupid dream, that it felt real enough to have actually happened. 

“[c/n]?” Soap’s tired voice snaps you out of your thoughts. Right. We’re sharing a tent. You quickly whip your head to look at him, chest still rising up and down rapidly as your unstable breathing continues. You don’t say anything, simply staring at him with wide eyes. 

“Are ye alright?” He frowns, quickly growing more awake the more concerned he gets, “Whit’s wrong?” 

Maybe you’re in some form of shock, but you find yourself staying silent out of the fear of something happening. You’re not sure what that ‘something’ is, but it’s there, and it’s holding you back from even attempting to speak. Your breath hitches and your throat stings. 

“Hey, uh,” Soap pushes himself up with a grunt and walks over a short few steps to you, kneeling down once he’s beside you, “Jist breathe, everything’s gonnae be alright.”

You know he’s not exactly the best at comforting people. He’s always been better with more technical things, and would much rather help you with math homework or something over trying to comfort you after something traumatic. It’s not that he doesn’t want to—of course he does, and he wishes he was much better than he is now at it—but he can never manage to find the right words. 

He puts a tentative hand on your shoulder and you stare at it as it reaches you, flinching back immediately when you can actually feel his hand over your shirt. He pulls his hand back instantly, expression growing even more concerned. 

“Do ye wannae tell me whit happened?” Soap whisper-asks. When you quickly shake your head ‘no’, Soap thinks for a moment before offering, “Do ye want me tae get onyone else?” 

You think about his words for a moment before nodding. He sighs. 

“Who?” 

Your gaze flickers from the exit of the tent before going back to Soap.

“… Cap’n Price,” You quietly decide. Soap nods and reluctantly gets up, making his way out of the tent. 

A few minutes later, you hear Soap walk back into the tent as well as another set of feet that trail right behind him. You look up and over at the entrance of the tent and see your Captain. His eyes are immediately on you, and as soon as he sees the mystified look in your eyes, he’s quick to make his way to you and kneel down beside you. 

He doesn’t know what to say for a moment, you can tell. He instinctively brings a hand up to put on your shoulder like he typically would in situations like these, but something causes him to bring his hand back down and away from you. Maybe Soap told him how you reacted earlier? You brush off the thought for now, more focused on whatever Price is trying to do. 

The reason you wanted him here instead of the others was mainly because you felt the least embarrassed around him. Which was weird, considering that he’s of the highest rank compared to you and the others, but still—you can’t imagine him judging you, not even for the most outrageous things. Maybe he’d have a small fit over you saying “soccer” instead of “football”, but otherwise, you can’t think of a world where he judges you for something like having a nightmare. 

And sure, the others have them too and probably wouldn’t judge you either, but still. Price will probably always be your first option for situations like these. 

“Soap hadn’t told me what happened, yet,” Price says softly, “D’you mind filling me in?” 

If this were anyone else, you’d be fighting the urge to jump off a cliff, but because it’s not, you simply answer, “Nightmare.” 

Your voice is a little clearer now, much to your relief, but it still carries that rasp from earlier. It doesn’t pain you to talk, but it does shock you that you even can, considering that you could barely form a whisper in your nightmare. And yes, that’s a silly thought, knowing that all of that was a nightmare, but you couldn’t care less about that right now.

“A nightmare, alright,” Price hums, before suggesting, “My tent’s bigger than yours, y’know. You wanna bring your sleeping bag over there, so we’re all together? Power in numbers, yeah?”

 You nod mindlessly, agreeing with anything Price says. He smiles at you and hesitantly puts a hand on your shoulder, doing it slowly enough that you have plenty of time to let him know if it’s not okay, but you allow it. Price shoots a look at Soap and the latter nods, confirming whatever Price’s silent look asked him. 

“Alright,” Price gives your shoulder one last squeeze before standing up, waiting for you to stand up as well. Once you do, he starts to walk out of the tent, expecting you to walk after him. Surprisingly, Soap gets up as well, sleeping bag and pillow in hand. Huh. Maybe that’s what he was confirming. You quickly pick up your sleeping bag and pillow, movements a little more stilted than usual as you didn’t expect to actually be able to move as quickly as you can now, and follow Price out of your tent. 

You shiver as you walk out into the cold outside of the woods, and are quick to walk to the much bigger tent across from yours. 

When you enter the tent, Gaz remains asleep while Ghost almost immediately wakes up. It’s uncanny, the speed at which his eyes open and dart to your figure—as if he was never asleep in the first place. You push those thoughts aside and wait for Price to walk in. 

“Wh’t’s goin’ on?” Ghost asks sleepily, his British accent making his slurred words nearly impossible to decipher. 

“They’re stayin’ in here for the rest of the night,” Price answers for you, nodding over to you as he refers to you. 

Ghost looks over at you and you can sense his raised eyebrow despite not being able to see it. You look to Price to explain your situation for you again, and once he sees you look at him, he explains, “Nightmare.” 

Ghost blinks before nodding understandably. Almost immediately, he conks out and goes right back to sleeping like the dead, making Price snort. Price turns to you, and gestures towards the empty spot next to Gaz, the spot conveniently empty and just perfectly sized for your sleeping bag. You walk over there as quietly as you can, shuffling around Ghost’s and Price’s sleeping bags, and gently lay your sleeping bag down next to Gaz’s. 

You set down your pillow inside of the sleeping bag and kneel down as quietly as you can, a soft rustling sounding from your sleeping bag as you settle in. You turn on your side and let out a quiet sigh, eyelids already drooping with exhaustion. You’ve turned towards Gaz, and he’s turned towards you, and you look over his sleeping face for a moment before deciding to catch up on your own rest. 

Just as you’re about to close your eyes, you watch his open. 

“...” He stares at you for a moment, before he sleepily whispers, “Hey.” 

“Hi.” 

“… Y’good?” He asks, looking at your still-glassy eyes and very-clearly-worn-out expression. 

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” You answer, trying to offer a tiny bit of reassurance. 

“Alright,” Gaz hums, accepting your answer easily, and closing his eyes once again. 

A small smile graces your lips. You’re all used to going to sleep easily, of course, on missions like these—you kind of need to be, given that you’re all military. It took you a bit, but you eventually got used to it, and gained that skill just a few months after joining the task force. 

Speaking of which, you find yourself drifting off to sleep not long after Gaz closes his eyes again, and soon enough, you’ve already fallen asleep—this time, without nightmares or dreams.

[feroluce]

So I saw this post yesterday about whether Belobog had had phones before the Astral Express landed, or if the Trailblazers were the ones who brought them and distributed them to Jarilo-VI for the current characters. There were some mixed views and guesses in the comments.

And the answer is actually....both!

If you look at the text messages from a lot of the Belobog characters, most of them will actually allude to not knowing how to use a phone, which isn't something you get on the Xianzhou Luofu, even though they have the jade abaci. Oleg even specifically says that March 7th gave him his.

And there's also this line from Gepard and Serval's companion quest:

He's so cute I love him

Meanwhile Sampo has been running scams with selling supposed ancient relic mobile phones to the rich nobles up topside- tbh I think he could sell ice cubes in Belobog if he really put his mind to it, so he could probably make this work no matter what, knowing him. But a scam like this would not work NEARLY as well unless the general populace didn't know anything about cell phones or how they work.

(It's extra funny when you remember that he's not even a Belobog native, man has probably been hiding a phone from everyone for however long he's been there, and he absolutely knows how they work slzjkskwms)

I'm going to shove him through a meat grinder (affectionate)

While it's possible it would be way harder to get signal out there, we know from the When Business Comes Knocking adventure mission (the fact that THE TRAILBLAZER is the one who tipped off the IPC about Jarilo-VI's revival, and over something so stupid, thus leading to the invasion during the Solwarm Festival in 1.4 fucking KILLS me fjkdlsajfkdlaj) that phones CAN get some kind of signal even as far out as Everwinter Hill. So it makes this line from Serval's online introduction seem like even stronger proof that Belobog had no phones, because there's no way Gepard and Serval wouldn't text each other to at least occasionally check in while he was out in such a dangerous place.

The final nail in the coffin is actually from an IPC worker out near the Pillars of Creation, who says the Astral Express brought phones to Jarilo-VI (they say it's just a rumor, but no yeah I'm sure it's real given everything before this haha) and then admit they've been using the technological gap and lack of knowledge to make money on the side.

So. Belobog didn't have phones when the Express landed. But. But!

They did 700 years ago.

In one of the daily missions, you can encounter this echo in Backwater Pass, who shows you pictures on his phone. He mentions Alisa Rand, the very first Supreme Guardian, and the war against the Antimatter Legion, but he doesn't know what the Fragmentum is. So we know this had to happen only shortly after the Eternal Freeze came about.

And I've seen people complain how ridiculous it is that the surrounding areas of Belobog have so little flora or fauna, and how real snow tundras don't work like that. And it has been a very long time since then, but. I'm not quite sure how much water that holds, because that's not what happened here.

The Eternal Freeze didn't slowly move in. This wasn't some natural process. It just happened.

This was an environmental disaster on a planetwide scale. There was no time to prepare and most of the wildlife couldn't even live long enough to adapt or evolve. All of Jarilo-VI was on the verge of extinction; the Antimatter Legion had them at the precipice, and Alisa Rand had to make a choice. It was a desperate decision under dire straits and it didn't come without cost.

And you can see just how devastating the effects were from that previous conversation- the man regards his own phone as a pre-war relic. His wife died of illness due to the cold. His son was forced to take up a career he didn't want. Everything was put on hold. Everyone who managed to survive had to fully devote themselves to the cause.

Belobog lost entire eras of knowledge, because they were all scrambling for survival. Whatever kind of mobile phones they had before the war and the Eternal Freeze, they were lost in the ensuing chaos, until the Astral Express landed and brought new technology for the first time in 700 long years.

So- the answer is both!

[cario55555]

Gonna be taking a bit of a break from art and such and so, specifically cotl stuff mainly because i got abunch of wips in the backlog and others stuff to doodle but also i like this little freakshow im making too so have abunch of fun facts about the funny lamb universe i got goin on for now under the cut

⁍ The Lamb would canonically win in a fight against 4 Leshy's or 2 Heket's, but not 3 Shamura's or 2 Kallamar's. ⁍ The Goat literally just walked into the Cult and acted like he already knew everyone. This somehow worked for 3 years. ⁍ I have no idea if Narilamb is canon in this or not, but if it was then it would not end well for anyone ⁍ Plimbo is the best character, this is a fact and you cannot dispute it. I tried designing him like 8? times and I just couldn't get it in a satisfying way. this is because he is without flaw. ⁍ The Lamb was fully aware of the prophecy before the beheading. They were counting on it. There is blood on their hands. ⁍ Sozo is very dead. Whatever's walking around the Cult, that's not Dr. Sozonius. ⁍ Look at this thing I can do ☺ isn't that wild ⁍ It takes place in a permadeath save. This means that the Lamb's delusions of power definitely weren't helped by the fact that they BARELY even knew Narinder, and the fact they killed 5 gods without sleeping. ⁍ Also Lamb killed Narinder lol ⁍ Mystic Seller is named "That Which Takes" ⁍ Leshycat's canon but I'll never design them its just gonna be like in Tom and Jerry where they're just slightly offscreen at all times ⁍ Midas that rat fuck owes me 20$ ⁍ Surprisingly, Heket got the closest to killing The Lamb. She wears this as a badge of honor, or as a means to make fun of the other Bishops. I forget which. ⁍ I might make a fanfic one of these days based on cult of the sham but it'd literally just be an always sunny episode lol ⁍ Webber is literally the exact same as the one from Don't Starve. They had to put him down because he kept placing spider nests all over the Cult, and Pigs kept trying to throw down. ⁍ A little gnome just ran behind you when you weren't looking. ⁍ The Lamb is ambidextrous, this is because I keep forgetting which hand to have them hold stuff with. They also have no idea what this word means. ⁍ The gnome ran behind you again you gotta pay more attention to this stuff ⁍ ☺sorry i didn't mean to do it that time ⁍ Clauneck and Kudaai like switching clothes and acting like eachother to fuck with people, it works every time without fail. ⁍ Aym and Baal are hanging out with Forneus. The Lamb didn't let them do this, they literally just booked it as soon as they got the chance and Forneus totally could beat the shit out of The Lamb. ⁍ help its red now ⁍ nevermind we're good ⁍ Ratau was driven mad by the crown. He's had the knowledge of the gods ripped from his skull and delicately placed onto some psychopathic woolen beast. He's not all there. ⁍ Any time I'm working on COTL stuff I'm usually listening to King Gizzard and the Wizard Lizard. To get the general tone I try and set, listen to their album "I'm In Your Mind Fuzz". Good stuff. ⁍ The Industrial Meat Grinder incident was an inside job.

thank y'all for all the support, means the world that people actually like the delusional ramblings that come out of my brain at...

yeah that tracks.

also one more little mini preview for a drawing that might get finished one of these days idk

why is webber there i genuinely do not remember???

[skiller0dani]

The Morning After (NHoG Short) | Ominis Gaunt

M A S T E R L I S T Other Masterlist Harry Potter Masterlist

smut | slytherin!reader requests info w.c | 2.3k summary | You have a soft morning with Ominis after the traumatic events of last night.

I wasn't ready to leave The Noble House of Gaunt (NHoG) behind yet lol this is just a short thing. I might write more blurbs but I really doubt it. This is the final piece I wanted to add, enjoy! I have some ideas for Sebastian & Ominis I'll be working on soon.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

The first thing Ominis felt the next morning was pain. It was quickly succeeded by joy, happiness, and a flurry of butterflies swarming in his stomach. But the pain remained nonetheless. His entire upper torso was so sore it felt hard to breathe, and every muscle felt as though it had been put through a meat grinder. He nearly forgot what this pain felt like- nearly. He had endured it during his childhood more times than he could count. He had endured the horrible ache that lasted the week preceding the curse, and he was determined not to sully the wonderful night the two of you had by making you worry. Lest of all feel guilty for something that was never your fault in the first place.

The second thing Ominis felt when he woke up was you, snuggled against his bare chest. Your cheek was pressed against his collarbone, and his arm was curled around your torso. He felt your bare skin beneath his fingertips, felt all your soft dips and curves. You were enough to make him smile through the residual pain. Your hand was resting on his chest, and he felt so at ease to have you here in his arms first thing in the morning. He wished you two could wake up like this every morning. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and breathed in your scent, like lilacs growing in a strawberry field. Ominis had no idea what time it was, there were thankfully no classes today so there was no rush. The Great Hall was likely serving breakfast, and he wanted to make sure you ate something.

He carefully sat up, smiling when he hears you whine softly, your hands reaching for him to protest him standing. He reaches for his clothes, which is a bit of a task as they got strewn about the Undercroft the night before. He groans softly as a sharp pain runs down his back, unfortunately the sound stirs you awake.

"Ominis? Are you okay?" You mumble, your voice still thick with sleep. He gave you the best 'I feel fine and not like every inch of my body is bruised' smile he could muster.

"Of course my love, just going to get you breakfast." He says sweetly, and you smile widely. You pull yourself to sit up in bed, goosebumps appearing on your skin as you pull the blankets around your naked body. You eye him suspiciously as you watch him slowly put on his clothes, wincing when he has to lift his arms or bend over. You swing your feet over the side of the bed and make an attempt to stand, which doesn't go well due to the wobble in your legs and the deep ache from between them.

"-shit." You curse, stumbling against the bedframe. Ominis is quick to reach in your direction, his arms encircling your body once he locates you. You lean against him, nuzzling your nose against his like you always do and you try to ignore the worry on his face.

"Are you alright, my heart? Did I hurt you last night?" He frets, helping you sit back on the bed. His hands smooth up your bare thighs before one reaches up to gently brush through your hair. You lean up to kiss him, its short and sweet but it stops him from nervously rambling.

"No darling you didn't. I just feel a little sore is all." You explain, and he cradles the back of your head as he presses his lips against your forehead. The gesture is sweet and romantic and it makes you fall in love with him all over again.

"Let me get you something to eat, you stay here and don't you even think of putting any clothes on." Ominis teases, and your cheeks color. You lean back against the headboard, pulling the blankets and enveloping your body in warmth. Ominis pulls out his wand and smiles, heading towards the entrance to the Undercroft.

"I love you!" You call after him, and it makes him smile.

"I love you more, be back soon sweetheart." He calls back, hearing your beautiful laughter before the gate closes behind him.

Normally Sebastian sat with either you or Ominis at breakfast, but seeing as neither of you are here he had no choice but to sit with Imelda. She would make much better company if she didn't ask so many personal questions.

"You sure you don't have a thing for Y/N?"

"Positive."

"Because I thought at first that you might, especially during 5th Year."

"We're just friends Imelda, she's definitely in love with Ominis." Sebastian sighs, trying his hardest to tune her out.

"But if she wasn't in love with Ominis..."

"I still wouldn't have a thing for her. Can you stop please?" He asks, his tone getting snippy. Imelda grinned, resting her chin in her palm. She picked at her oatmeal, with you gone she felt nearly as bored as Sebastian. Which is why she kept pestering the poor boy with questions she already knew the answers to. She knew he didn't like you, of course she did. She was only asking to irritate him.

"Why? Is this a sore subject?" Imelda teased, laughing behind her palm when Sebastian throws her a glare.

"Like when she beat all your fastest times? Shall we talk about that instead?" Sebastian fired back, playful grin on his face.

"Okay, not funny Sallow."

"Why? Is this a sore subject?" Sebastian says casually, but there's still a teasing glint in his eyes.

"I swear if you-"

"Now that is unbecoming behavior at the table, Imelda." Ominis scolds, feeling as Imelda shakes the entire table trying to punch Sebastian.

"Ominis!" Sebastian says happily, smiling up at him. Ominis doesn't sit, he smooths out a bandana he brought with him on the table. With a wave of his wand, tarts, biscuits, and some fruit all float neatly into the bandana. He reaches down to tie the top, and lifts his neat little package before turning.

"Woah hold on, where are you going?" Sebastian asks, scrambling to catch Ominis before he walks away.

"Nowhere." Ominis says dismissively, Sebastian eyes the food in Ominis's hands suspiciously- and the fact that you're nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Y/N?"

"Nowhere." Ominis says his cheeks steadily flushing, and Sebastian smiles wickedly. He's beginning to figure out what's going on here.

"Ominis you sly dog!" He laughs, and Ominis huffs in annoyance. Though his ears have begun to turn red.

"Poor thing can't walk can she? Ominis I never knew you had it in you..." Sebastian continued his teasing and the only reason Ominis hasn't slapped him is because it's only Sebastian. If some other guy were to speak of you in that way, he'd be on his way to Nurse Blainey by now. Sebastian is harmless, Ominis knows he doesn't mean any disrespect, and won't tell anybody.

"Though I suppose it wasn't you that had anything in-"

"Sebastian." Ominis's voice was low, a gentle warning that Sebastian is about to push the teasing too far. Sebastian raises his hands in surrender with a chuckle, following Ominis to the Undercroft. Once they reach it, Ominis pauses.

"You can't come in."

"Why not?" Sebastian is playfully smiling, though he knows Ominis can't see that.

"Because Y/N is indecent." Ominis states firmly, sure to block the entrance to the Undercroft with his body.

"Oh is she? Prove it." The teasing tone hasn't wavered, Sebastian is likely going to be teasing Ominis about this for weeks. Ominis reaches towards Sebastian's direction and punches him, not caring where he hits. His fist lands square in the middle of Sebastian's chest, pushing him backwards lightly.

"I'm kidding!" He laughs, and Ominis has nothing but an irritated look in his face. Ominis turns back to the Undercroft with a huff, though he doesn't move to open the entrance.

"Go away." He says, and Sebastian laughs again before Ominis can hear his footsteps on the marble flooring.

Wait.

"Go!" Ominis snaps, and he hears Sebastian laugh from behind him again.

"How on Earth do you know when I'm faking?" He says, actually walking away this time. Ominis doesn't bother giving him a reply as he enters the Undercroft.

"My love? I've brought breakfast." Ominis calls out and he can hear your squeal of excitement, probably because you've already sniffed out something he brought for you.

"Strawberry tarts?" You're overjoyed once he unwraps breakfast, and he can't fight the smile that appears on his face. You immediately grab one, taking a big bite as Ominis sheds his robes. He sits back against the headboard next to you, reaching for a banana.

"I missed you, what took so long?" You whined, scooching closer to him to feel the warmth coming from his body. Why do men emit heat like furnaces? You're always cold, and he's always warm.

"Sebastian was being a pest." He says, his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"What did he do now?" You ask, though there is a smile on your face. You're so happy Ominis is spending time with Sebastian, even if he complains about him afterwards.

"Um, nothing." Ominis evades your question with a blush dusting across his cheeks. You look at him curiously.

"Ominis."

Silence.

"Ominis."

"He figured it out." Is all Ominis says eventually. He looks a little embarrassed.

"Figured what out?" You ask, though you're fairly certain you already know.

"What we got up to...last night." Ominis says softly, and if you didn't know better you'd say Ominis looked shy. You smiled fondly at him, he's the cutest person you've ever seen.

"You're right. He is a pest." You agree, coaxing a chuckle out of Ominis. You wait a few moments before you swing a leg over Ominis's lap, straddling him. Your arms circle around his shoulders, pressing your forehead against his.

"You're far too clothed." You mumble softly and Ominis smiles at you.

"Are we not leaving the Undercroft soon?" He teases with a loving smile.

"Eventually, but there are a few things I want to try first..." You say softly, and Ominis is already fumbling with the buttons of his sweater. You stop him with a gentle hand, you're practically aching and you don't feel like waiting.

"Trust me?" You ask him, as if you even need to ask.

"Always." He replies firmly, clenching his jaw when he feels one of your hands traveling south. You've begun to rock against him, and he can hear the soft whines leaving your lips.

"You took too long Ominis...I've been craving you." You whisper softly, and Ominis feels a shudder go down his spine. Now that you two have crossed this threshold he knows now you'll never go back. He's turned into a beast.

"I would have sent Sebastian away sooner had I known you were needing to be taken care of sweetheart." Ominis whispers back, his lips brushing against yours. He feels the wet, warm heat of your cunt grinding against his cock through his pants. He feels blood surging south, and you moan when you feel him getting hot and hard underneath you. You reach down to undo his belt clasp, leaving is displaced enough to work the button of his trousers open. You reach into his pants, your fingers encircling his shaft as you take him out and jerk him a few times. Ominis groans softly, feeling your thumb swipe over his head. His hands have cupped your cheeks to pull your lips against his.

You lean up on your knees, positioning yourself over him before you carefully lower yourself until his tip is nudging against your entrance. You continue to lower yourself, sighing in relief as his cock breaches your folds and slides into you. You continue traveling downwards until you're sitting on his lap, your pelvis flush against his and his cock stretching you open. You're gasping into each others mouths as you raise, only to carefully sink back down on him again. Ominis's hands reach up to explore your bare skin, his hands massaging your breasts as you sweetly bounce on his lap. He swears he's in heaven, nothing on Earth or beyond could be better than this.

You begin to moan louder, the sound becoming desperate and hoarse as you slide down on his cock again. This angle is delicious, it reaches even deeper places that you didn't know could be reached. Ominis's hands have found your hips, helping to control the pace. He is, as you're discovering, a bit of a control freak. He likes to have a say in how fast you're going, and you wouldn't have it any other way. Ominis reaches forward to thumb at your clit, causing you to cry out as your nails bite into his shoulders.

"C-Can't come inside you." Ominis gasps, and you whine in annoyance.

"No my love please, please I love feeling you come inside-" You protest, bouncing on his cock faster now. You're close to release, and so is he. But he won't risk getting you pregnant, at least not until he can properly provide for you and the baby. Besides, the two of you are way too young for that right now. Ominis's arms curl around your body, flipping you over after ensuring the mattress is beneath you. He sweetly thrusts into you, leaning over you on his forearms. He's still fully clothed, and you're stark naked. The image shouldn't turn you on as much as it does.

"Please-" Your plea is so carnal, so desperate that Ominis almost complies. But luckily his rational thinking is breaking through the haze of lust clouding your judgement. He thrusts harder, groaning as he feels you clench around him as you come. Your back arches and you cry out his name, your cum drenching his cock. Ominis thrusts a few more times and just as that band snaps, he forces himself to pull out, coming in white ropes across your stomach. You groan in annoyance, you know why he did it, but the feeling of being full of his cum is euphoric. His body is trembling as he lays down next to you, and you can see how badly he hurts.

"Are you okay?" You ask, taking his hand. He smiles and presses a kiss to the back of your hand.

"Never better."

TAGLIST: @abbiesxox @nekee-lilac02 @atomictrashcollectorme @idcabouttumbl @thevintagevictorian

[shallowseeker]

And yeah, it sucks, and Dean was cruel and murderous and dehumanizing, but on the other hand, 14 days isn't very long.

And yet, at 14 days, things were already starting to repair and heal with Jack just a little bit, even before Cas came back.

(I've seen it said that this didn't occur till after Cas came back, but in 13x04, Jack's behavior and personality are what began to thaw Dean out and, per the script, "put chinks in his armor.”)

///

Interestingly, even back in 13x02, Dean’s body language doesn't match his words. Here it reads as "move behind me."

///

By the end of 13x04, Dean and Jack are tentatively starting to like each other. They're even a little bit alike in this scene:

*THEM: not looking directly at each other as they say HEY awkwardly*

Jack: Hey.

*Dean, doing the same thing*

This is also maybe the first time Dean calls Jack by his name? (I'd have to check, but I think so.)

*Dean’s eyes flitting around nervously*

Dean: “You did good today (pause) Jack”

Yeah, I think you can make a well-argued case for something-something “conditional love.”

But given the Kelly-Cas brainwashing and everything else that came before, I’d say it’s not unreasonable for Jack to like having established trust. To have earned trust.

Earning trust is important in all relationships, not necessarily always an evil “conditional” thing.

///

Then Dean goes and apologizes to Sam, saying that he was out of line during the therapy session and that he's sorry for being a dick lately.

It's sweet, but also, no one is being very empathetic to Dean and his losses. But I think by this point in Dean's life, Dean's not really expecting that either.

He’s only able to get that support from one person in his life right now: Jody Mills. (13x03) Which is part of why he felt comfy taking the case with her, I think.

Later in this scene, in a break with his past tendencies, Dean will actually try to rely on Sam:

///

DEAN: And he tapped his power and saved our asses, so that's a win.

Sam was right about one thing, though. It wasn't Jack’s powers that impressed Dean, or even being saved. It was the effort.

(Jack's personality was already thawing Dean, too.)

///

The rest of the scene is sweet. Dean tries to see Sam's perspective, and Sam tries to see Dean's.

It's a trading of strength and hope, which is how real families are, too. Our strength and resilience wax and wane, and we share our burdens, but we try to share our hope, too.

This is a rare occasion: Dean is trying to share a burden; he lets Sam know how bad it really is.

(Dundundun! Ellen Harvelle would be proud.)

Dean is accepting that Sam isn't going to get there on his own. So he spells out his despair for him. The Cas of it all.

And Sam seems to get that it’s a Cas thing. That's clear in his behavior in the next episode. And Sam wants to be there for Dean, I don't think that's a lie, but…

Sam ALWAYS wants Dean to tell him stuff like this, to talk out the big stuff. But one of Sam’s hopes is that talking things out will fix them.

(Classic Type-A kinda mentality.)

But THIS? Cas’s death isn't fixable, not quite as nebulous as the mom-in-Apocalypse-World-problem is. (In fact, I wouldn't put it past Sam to have been up all night researching, finding NO way to get Cas back. Alternatively, the constant casework could represent just utter denial.)

Anyhoo, Sam's grieving the losses too, but Dean is different. And unfortunately for Sam, John Winchester's grief was so horrendous and frightening that seeing Dean's, uh, particular kind of grief triggers Sam's panic response.

Just look at Sam’s face here.

SAM's BRAIN: brrrrrrrr RED ALERT brrrrr RED ALERT

*Meanwhile*

///

Next episode (13x05):

We find Sam in a state of near-panic. Just look at that face:

And actually, looking at Sam's D8> here…

..I think it's possible that he TOTALLY knew what the PB&J stuff was about, and his brain went into a meat grinder of:

OH NO FUCK NO NO NOT THIS--I RECOGNIZE THIS. THIS KIND OF GRIEF RUINED MY CHILDHOOD!!!!!111

{8[

Don't Grieve in Front of Me Dean (analysis)

Don't Grieve in Front of Me Dean Redux (s7 analysis)

///

So.

Sam finds a case about best friends. Makes you wonder what he was googling to find it...

And Sam’s distress surrounding the case is interesting, because he is behaving so DIFFERENTLY than he was in 13x02 and 13x03:

Dean: *cue surprise*

Dean is weirded out. Maybe he figured Sam would let him take a real break, or maybe it's just that the timing of Sam’s suggestion of leaving Jack behind feels weird now.

They’ve switched places.

Dean was eager to leave Jack in 13x03, and Sam was the one insisting on them staying with Jack to help him “learn to control his powers.”

Now, in about two weeks’ time, Sam’s like—“Jack has TV! We’ll put up extra warding! It’ll be fiiiine!”

Dean’s brain, probably: Hmmm. Sam is trying to cheer me up, but wow are these about-faces on what's bad parenting and what's good parenting kinda fucked up.

///

And at the end of the episode, Dean tries again to tell Sam just how bad it is (mirroring Mary's willingness to offer up “not being okay” in s12):

And Sam is pretty much at sea.

[meo-on-prairie]

Pro-gamer!Gojo, Geto, Sukuna, and Toji

Writing this on my phone because life been putting me thru a meat grinder and i dont have the time to write an actual fic so i'mma ramble about the fic i been writing in my head when i dissociated

Imagine e-sport AU JJK

Youre a girl that's joining a 5 members first person shooter esport team call Curse Technique (CTQ) cuz women respresantation in esport fucking damn it

Your teammates are Gojo (Sixeyes), Geto (spiriteater), Sukuna (malevolent), and Toji (topji)

Theyre all streamers turn pro-gamers and are the most cocky bastard alive. The have never lose a single tournament ever since the game launched.

They got scouted by CTQ organizations from their stream when the game first launch

They fight each other for the second position on the leader board.

Note how i say second

Because someone with the in-game name KandyCat have the top position. Undefeated. Many have tried. But they cant even come close to thag ranking score

And goddamn did the 4 of them tried. They did a 1 week subathon with the sole purpose of tryna take the number 1 spot. They got their ass handed to them by said KandyCat in their solo rank games. So they temporarily gave up.

They always curios who this KandyCat is tho, becaude they are not a streamer, there are nothing about them on the internet beside the fact that theyre number one on the game leaderboard.

Over times, their curiosity and completitiveness against KandyCat before some sort of admiration and obsession. They really want to know who this person is and learn from them.

Now let's talk about when the team manager introduced you to them.

They thought you were their new assistant. They were expecting their last teamate would be another well known streamer or pro-player

The disbelief on their face when your manager said "this is y/n, she's your 5th member and also will be your in-game leader"

You almost let out a snicker

They threw a tantrum. That's for sure. Not cuz youre a girl. It's cuz theyre prideful as fuck

They cant fathom how a literal no body, someone they never heard of before, be their leader?!? Theyre literally the top 5 players of the game. Impossible. No. If leader is one of them, the rest will be bitter but they still relinquish. But their leader is someone they have never heard of before??? They wont stand for this

No. They refused "she can be our leader if she can beat all 4 of us in 1v1s" sukuna scoff and for the first time theyre all in agreement about something.

"Sure!" You said "let's make it more fun by placing a bet, whoever win get a wish from the loser"

Your manager, nanami, just sigh a long sigh and let yall duke it out on the game.

You logged into your account (y/n0nt0p) and gojo immediate poke fun of you "after this you should chsnge it to y/nthebottom"

They were all so confident. Already thinking of what their wish gonna be.

LOL MAN DID THEY GOT THEIR ASS HANDED TO THEM

They could not even land a shot on you

For the first time in their career they went negative on their Kill Death ratio. It was tragic. You were abusing mechanic they have never seen before. Taking angle they didnt know exist. Shooting through wall they didnt know were made out of paper.

They were floored

Complete. Utter. Defeated.

"How?" Toji, the last one to went against you, ask in disbelief.

" You surely dont think this is my main account right? I dont even have any cosmetic on here" you said with a smirk, hinting to them that this isnt the account you will be competing under.

Nanami let out another sign, he need painkiller after this "if you would let me finish introduced her before throwing a tantrum, you coulda save your pride." He said while shaking his head "y/n will be competing under an alias "KandyCat" or Cat, she specifically put in the contract that she does not want her identity to be out in the public including her appearance so----"

"KANDYCAT?!" Gojo shouted cutting nanami off once again.

"The. KandyCat??? Number one player on the leader board. That KandyCat?" Getou said, not believing his ears

Poor men.... theyre going thru so many shocking things in one day. It's like their word just got turned upside down.

Honestly, i havent thoughts about it after this but it would be fun to be like a choose your own adventure fic. Where they all fell head over heel for you over the course of the competitive season.

[wowitsverycool]

YOU — “Kim, take a note for me.”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant catches on immediately and pulls out his notebook.

YOU — “Here in Martinaise, it’s one *little* move and then it’s ‘dead, dead, dead, dead, dead-”

TITUS HARDIE — The leader scowls and quickly interrupts. “What we did wasn’t an *instant kill.* Any man *worth anything* could’ve survived it, but that ain’t exactly what mercenaries are known for, is it, copper?”

COMPOSURE [Medium: Failure] — Shit, he’s got you there.

RHETORIC [Medium: Sucess] — What? No he hasn’t. Tell him how he’s wrong. There’s no way *anyone* could have survived that.

[Rhetoric - Challenging 12] Convince Titus that hanging the dead man was an instantly deadly move.

“*Cough* Anyway..”(Proceed)

RHETORIC [Challenging: Failure] — You need to use an *allegory.* A reference. Use different terms to make him understand why he’s wrong.

YOU — “Okay. If I..”

RHETORIC — What’s something else, something that’s obviously fatal?

YOU — “If I chop you up in a *meat grinder* and the only thing that comes out that’s left of you is your *eyeball*, you’re-“

TITUS HARDIE — The gruff man has now fallen silent, eyes wide open.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] — Half in amusement, half in disbelief.

RHETORIC — That’s the face of someone being *convinced.* Keep going!

YOU — “*Laugh* You’re probably dead! You are probably going to..”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant has closed his notebook now. He stares at you, dumbfounded.

Esprit De Corps [Challenging: Success] — Thinking, “Is he trying to threaten them?”

THE GARDENER — The woman watching has clearly come to the same conclusion. She’s about to interrupt you and defend them.

YOU — “Not *you.* I’m just saying, like.. If somebody were to push you into a meat grinder, and your- one of your *finger bones* was still intact, they’re not gonna pick it up and go ‘Oh well, see? It wasn’t that- it wasn’t lethal, it wasn’t an insta-kill move. You’ve still got this part of your *FINGER* left..”

-1 Morale

SUGGESTION [Easy: Failure] — You sound completely deranged.

COMPOSURE [Medium: Failure] — Your voice shakes.

YOU — “..N..No, I’m not gonna put you into a meat grinder.. I’m not gonna put you into a meat grinder! ..No! I’m making a reference to the fact that, like, if I, if I were to get fucking *killed*.. I don't know, you know what I’m SAYING!”

FAT ANGUS — The one in the back is genuinely terrified.