#like my dude you are severely dehydrated

[spacecorps]

to all the artists and writers i see depecting muscley characters with a tummy and squish. can i kiss you on the mouth????

[firewoodfigs]

.

[sewi-li-suwi]

@esmetheexquisite here, i can't seem to get an ask in without attaching myself to minty's name. i've been interested in joining the wizard council from what i've heard, but i wanna know: why are you and some others against it?

ugh. i don't really wanna get in an argument about it, but like. you LIKE being told what to do? what you can and can't cast?? they illegalized Summon Invisible Dude Who Fucking Kills You, for fuck's sake.

but, y'know, if you like the taste of leather then you're welcome to continue licking that boot ig.

[aroaceleovaldez]

my personal favorite interpretation of Nico's confession to Percy in BoO and Percy's reaction is that. Nico was one foot in the grave at the time - heavily injured, exhausted, probably suffering from blood loss, actively turning into shadows, etc etc. And he mentions himself several times that he's not acting quite like himself, such as smiling a lot and his mind wandering and his vision being unsure. Dude is OUT OF IT. He is one strong breeze away from crumpling on the floor and falling unconscious for multiple days (again).

a.) no wonder Will was like "three days in the infirmary now. you will melt into a puddle if you try and summon a wishbone." cause Nico was probably standing there with a glassy look in his eyes waving like a leaf in the wind on the verge of collapsing.

b.) just imagine Percy's pov: The guy you've known for three years stumbles up to you on the verge of death, clearly still bleeding and half-fading into nothingness. Obviously a little delirious at best. Normally he's extremely awkward talking to people and hates physical interaction and every time he talks to you he looks like he wants to run away as fast as possible. You are 80% sure he wants you dead but is trying to be polite about it. He walks up to you with the confidence only someone suffering from extreme dehydration/major blood loss on the verge of passing out can have, tells you that you're not his type, high-fives your girlfriend (who you thought he had a crush on?) (you weren't even sure he knew what high-fives were. you're still not sure he does) and stumbles off without finishing the conversation. You ask your girlfriend if she understands what the hell just happened. She has no idea either. You decide to chalk it up to him having no idea what was going on either.

Three days later Nico wakes up in the infirmary in a cold sweat, having remembered that interaction and goes "WHAT HAVE I DONE?!"

[haunting-venus]

line 'em up and measure ↳ lo'ak sully x male!human!reader

content warnings | smut ( mdni ), characters are aged up, brief description of wounds, slight intoxication, mutual masturbation, literal dick measuring contest, xenophilia ( alien biology ), dirty talk, praise

word count: 3995

notes | this was originally supposed to be for the last day of @eywaite and @tallulah477 romancing pandora event, but life got in the way. still, i couldn't get this out of my head so please enjoy this now !

na'vi dictionary | narlor — beautiful ( visually )

It was stupid—absolutely fucking insane, really—the situation you’ve planted yourself in. You knew you were a trespasser, not looked upon with any grace by Eywa on this exomoon but fuck, this must be some kind of sick joke.

“Dude, my dick is definitely nicer than yours.” Lo’ak’s cheeks are flushed with alcohol, grin toothy and shit-eating as his knee bumps yours.

You’d come across the Omatikaya purely by chance—a lone xenobotanist presumed dead after the tragic and fiery crash of your research team’s buggy in the depths of Pandora’s forests. You’d been warned about the local indigenous population, of course, and had been explicitly told your group was not important enough to risk more lives should you fuck up this exploration.

No one was looking for you, and you were alone on an alien planet with nothing but a scalpel and a faulty research tablet.

You’d wandered for hours, bleeding and disoriented, ears ringing with the impact of your buggy into the tree and heart pounding in fear at the inescapable situation you were now in. You were certain that you were smaller than anything in this forest, and that your sluggishly bleeding wounds and pounding headache would soon make you easy prey for whatever roamed in these woods.

You’d thought the time had finally come as you gasped against a tree for air, vision blurring with pain as your legs shook with the exertion to keep you upright. The air was rife with beastly screeching, the sound so high-pitched you thought briefly that this might be what death sounds like. The deafening flapping of giant wings had you scrambling to the forest floor, using the last of your strength to move pitifully away from the gnashing jaws of the creature who landed in front of you.

You were able to catch a glimpse of worried golden eyes and a lean blue frame that towered over you before the world slipped into inky blackness.

You’d learned afterwards that the Omatikaya did routine patrols in the areas known to the RDA, scheduled bouts of precautionary scouting should the Earth’s military ever stray too far from their boundaries. Well, you’d strayed a lot, apparently.

The man who’d saved you had carried you in a princess hold before the chief, his strong arm holding up your back and looped under your bent knees. It should’ve been embarrassing, you thought, a grown man having to be carried like a ragdoll by a stranger who was bargaining for your life to be saved. Then again, you didn’t exactly have time to worry about how tough you looked when you were on the verge of slipping unconscious again.

It had taken over a week in the medical care of the nearby human outpost before you were on your feet again, body weak from dehydration and healing minor fractures. The man who saved you, Lo’ak, came to check on you regularly, asking questions about your life and your intentions—how you’d wandered into the Omaticaya borders, why you were traveling in the forest, if you had any trackers on you, if anyone was following you.

After several days of him poking and prodding at you with questions, he returned with a much more intimidating man at his back—The chief, Jake Sully, adorned in ornate feathered regalia and a stern expression.

You knew you were best off telling the truth—you were a researcher with many injuries, nowhere else to go, and of no harm to any of the People. You’d even offered to leave once you healed, return to the RDA encampment with tight lips and fake amnesia, though Jake Sully had quickly brushed that off. It was in the People’s best interest that the RDA never knew you came in contact with them, and the only way you could do that was by never returning.

You were met with a mix of fear and anger from the local population. You were an intruder, an unwanted reminder of just how closely war knocked at their doorstep. It would’ve been easy to feel isolated, a bird without a nest.

Except you were surrounded with the most incredible flora and fauna you had ever laid your eyes on, the lands near the village so much more rife with life than the secluded bases of the RDA. The scientists at the outpost just outside the village welcomed you eagerly, sharing their notes and knowledge and living space with open arms. Then, of course, there was Lo’ak.

Lo’ak was a friend, one of the few that you’d acquired in the months since the crash. Turns out, one of his best friends was a human boy who’d grown up in the labs outside the Na’vi encampments, Spider, so he was neither scared nor angry with you. He was mostly curious, poking and prodding you with questions about Earth and showing you hidden wonders of the Forest when he got a rare day off.

He was also damn beautiful—tall and indigo-skinned, with lean muscles and swirling tattoos over the length of his strong arms and the curve of his ribs. You would be able to get over your little infatuation with some ease, you’d met plenty of good-looking people in your life, except he wasn’t just beautiful. He was fucking kind too, and it drove you nuts. 

So yes, Lo’ak was beautiful, funny and kind. He made you feel safe and wanted in a world that wanted to kill you at every turn, and he did it with the most endearingly toothy smile you’d ever seen.

He was also the chief’s son, which made him explicitly off-limits even if you did have any chance in any multiverse of getting to be with him. Which was exactly why you shouldn’t be in this situation right now, lazing together on a couch that is far too small for the two of you, passing a leather flask of pxir that was quickly emptying.

You must have been more drunk than you thought, letting the rogue idea slip between your teeth. It was supposed to be a joke, really—a dumb quip about how much you missed getting dicked down back on Earth. Your options were extremely limited, even more than they had been in the RDA outpost. At least over there there had been some sexually repressed military guys to get it on with. Here, everyone was either decades your senior, or definitely not your type.

“You just need to get some Na’vi cock. It’ll make you forget all about whatever puny action you were getting on Earth, bro.” Lo’ak laughed

 You were two young men, tipsy and comfortable with one another, it was completely natural to talk about sex. You knew that the Na’vi were extremely comfortable with sex, seeing it as a connection between life forms, something natural and beautiful. Plus, humans were inherently curious, not to mention repressed and hormonal. You figured that sexual experimentation between the two species was something nearly inevitable.

Still, it made you hot beneath the collar, having Lo’ak’s eyes so keen on you with hazy comfort as he suggests you get down and dirty with a Na’vi. With someone like him.

“Hey, watch how you talk about human cock. I’ve still got one, dude.” You scoff, taking another deep swig of the bitter alcohol. It’s always been so easy this way, hiding your discomfort behind sarcasm and dumb jokes. “Besides, it can’t be all that different.”

“Dude, my dick is definitely nicer than yours.”

It should be insulting. It is insulting, you tell yourself. That’s why your cheeks flush so devastatingly red, definitely. “Oh, fuck you, pretty boy. If that’s what you tell yourself to sleep at night, go ahead.”

“Well, there’s one way to find out.” Lo’ak’s eyes glisten with amusement, obviously reveling in the dumbstruck look on your face.

That was another thing you’d come to love about Lo’ak. He was always competitive, even over the stupidest things, even with stuff that will get him smacked or killed. He jumps at any opportunity to prove to himself and others that he was capable and brave. It usually made your heart flutter with admiration, now it just puts you on edge.

“You’re not seriously suggesting to whip it out, are you?” You chuckle

“What, you’re scared I might be right?” He goads.You’re about to deny him, about to insist you’ve had too much to drink when you’re barely even feeling a buzz so you can  

Except that Lo’ak is already pulling his hips up from the couch, moving to sit up on the arm of the seat so he can untie his loincloth. His muscled torso stretches while he extends his body, black swirling lines of tattoos he acquired with the reef tribes etched down his ribs and tapering just at the edge of the v-line leading into his bottoms.

It’s completely stupid and irrational. It’s definitely something that could get you smacked or even exiled if people found out. Hell, Lo’ak could never talk to you again if he knew what dirty things were running through your mind. It’s also the start of every stupid, dirty fantasy you’ve been unable to repress for months.

If you were a stronger man, you’d get up and leave. Except, you’re not.

“Alright, pretty boy. Put your money where your mouth is.”

Lo’ak’s grin is a little smaller than before, still confident but edged with something that seems bashful, his tail swinging leisurely behind him. It only takes a few tugs of his practiced fingers for the leather of his loincloth to loosen, then fall to the tiled ground of your room.

You feel ashamed for looking, even though that was the whole point of this stupid competition, if it could even be called that. You try to keep your face neutral as Lo’ak lighty spreads his legs, brows furrowing a bit. The apex of Lo’ak’s legs resembles more of a human female’s anatomy than anything. His skin is smooth, hairless just as the rest of his body, the darker stripes on his skin narrowing to a slit in his crotch

You swallow heavily, tucking one of your legs up to your chest to hopefully obscure the growing bulge in your shorts. You try to keep your voice even, teasing, even as it shakes. “From where I’m standing, looks like there’s nothing to compare, bro.”

“Fuck off, just give me a second.” Lo’ak mutters, cheeks warm as he brings a hand between his own legs. “Only humans are dumb enough to have their shit hanging out all the damn time.”

You’re glad to see a flush on Lo’ak’s cheeks, hear the gruff rasp of his voice. It’s comforting to know you’re not the only one a little affected, and you feel a bit of hope blossom inside your chest.

His fingers move between his legs, parting the slit with soft movements, his fingers shining with slick between his legs as he coaxes the opening open. He keeps his lips tight, chest moving with heavy breaths at each of his own touches.

Your eyes are rapt at his every movement, heart pounding .You briefly wonder if this is how he touches himself when he’s all alone, if he makes the same heavy breaths and twitches of his ears.

It takes only moments for something to begin breaching the folds of Lo’ak’s slit, his breath coming a little heavier. Slowly, a cock emerges from the sheath inside his body, a lighter shade of blue tapering to pinkish at the tip. There’s no balls that follow it, though the base seems a bit swollen as he hangs at half-mast before you. 

“Whoa.” You clear your throat quickly, averting your gaze from Lo’ak’s laughing eyes. “Thought you’d be bigger, honestly.”

It’s a big fat lie, and an obvious one too. Even without being fully hard, Lo’ak’s cock almost easily matches the length of your forearm.

“Oh, fuck off. I can smell you, you know. I know just what you think of your first Na’vi cock.” His tone isn’t malicious, just teasing, each word laced with 

Your face flushes, fingers twitching anxiously against your thigh that still sits tucked up against you. It’s easy to forget how superior Na’vi senses are when you spend so little time with them, especially outside of the lab. You briefly wonder if Lo’ak has been able to tell every time you’ve felt a flare of arousal in his presence, if he had connected the dots that your brain constantly wandered to your filthiest thoughts in his presence.

He leans forward, pressing one hand on the arm of the couch behind you. He’s close now, his breath near ghosting over your face as his eyes search yours. “Your turn. Not much of a competition if I’m the only one showing off, now is it?”

This is quickly treading into dangerous territory, something that sobers you up quicker than any water of coffee could. Lo’ak’s hand is still cradling his length, just ghosting lightly along the enlarged base as he leans over you with his muscled body. You know you’re hard, can feel the blood rushing from your head to pound between your thighs, can feel your length pressing uncomfortably against the cotton of your shorts. Unlike him, there’s nowhere for you to hide, no way to conceal just how affected you are.

You feel like you’re free-falling, diving head first into all the emotions you’d convinced yourself would be better off tucked away. Part of you wanted to keep it all at arm’s length, to let this be a moment of lust, another memory to be tucked away. The other part wanted to jump in feet first, consequences be damned, fuck the fallout.

You steel your nerves as Lo’ak backs off a little, giving you the space to undo the buttons of your pants. You know you can end this all with a few words, that if it really bothered you Lo’ak would forget this ever happened and never bring it up again, because he was that kind of guy. Except, you’re sure you aren’t imagining the lingering heat in Lo’ak’s gaze, or the excited flick of his tail as his eyes follow the movements of your fingers as you drop your pants.

You don’t need visual confirmation to know you’re already hard and leaking, the tip of your cock red and aching as your fingers ghost along your thighs.

“Looks like I win.” Lo’ak’s voice is breathier than before, his knee brushing against your leg as he lingers closely to you. His hand still sits close to his own cock, which has made no signs of retreating back into his body.

“Okay, you’re obviously gonna be bigger than me. You’re a fucking giant.” Your face flushes, trying to ignore the throb in your cock as Lo’ak’s eyes trail across your body.

“Don’t be so hateful, bro. No one likes a sore loser.” 

“Yeah, well, at least I have more stamina than you.” It’s so easy to slip back into teasing sarcasm, like a shield you can put around yourself to keep all the confusing emotions at arm’s length. It helps you feel some control that has been steadily slipping away, grasp onto some sort of reality.

Lo’ak just chuckles lowly. “More stamina? I’m a trained warrior, bro. Stamina is my game.”

You snort, trying desperately to forget the fact that you’re both naked beneath the waist. “You’re the most reckless fucker I’ve ever met. I bet you blow your load in two seconds.”

“Oh, come on, you’re the pent up little scientist. You really think you can last longer than me?” Lo’ak’s voice deepens, one of his hands trailing up across the outside of your thigh as he shadows over you.

“Try me.”

Lo’ak’s mouth is on yours before you have a chance to regret the challenge. He’s so much bigger than you, and the way his entire mouth encompasses yours is strange but not unpleasant. One of his hands eagerly comes up under your shirt and along your ribs, the other holding up his weight on the couch behind you. You run your fingers up along the planes of his body, tracing the ridges of his ribs and the curve of his shoulders, to embed them in your memory.

He gasps as he pulls away from you, his hips dipping to nudge his hardening cock against your hip as he leaves a line of wet kisses from the corner of your mouth to underneath your jaw. You vaguely register his tail thumping excitedly into the plush of the couch, the way his ears twitch forward to catch every hitch of your breathing.

“Shit, you’re so hot.” Lo’ak’s voice mumbles across your skin, canines grazing the sensitive skin of your neck as he pushes himself closer to you.

“Touch yourself.” You gasp, tightening your grip on Lo’ak’s bicep as he pushes his hips down into you.

Lo’ak pauses. “What?”

“Come on, you wanted to talk a big game. Let’s see how long you really last.” Your grin is devilish, edged with excitement and desire as you trail your fingers teasingly across the muscle of his arms. You delight in the little shiver that passes through him.

“Wouldn’t you rather be the one to touch me?” His voice is raspy, breathless as he nibbles along the curve of your neck.

“Oh, where’s the fun in that, pretty boy?” You bite your lip in a grin, resting your forehead along his own. “We want this to be a fair trial, and having my skilled hands on you could definitely skew the results.”

Lo’ak laughs, removing his hand reluctantly from your ribs to palm along his own cock. “Fine, no touching. For your results.”

You can feel yourself steadily losing control as you lean back and watch Lo’ak—the way he teasingly trails his fingers down his own chest and across his cock, the little gasp he lets out when he tightens his fingers around the base, the desperate hitching of his hips as he keeps his eyes firmly on you as he works himself over.

Lo’ak’s eyes flick expectantly towards your own hard cock, moaning loud as he finally sees you grip yourself in your palm. You’re so sensitive and it’s been so long, each touch feels magnified with Lo’ak above you, watching your every move with panting breaths. Lo’ak slows his movements on himself a bit, moving to grip himself at the swollen base of his cock. His reaction is immediate, a deep groan vibrating through his chest as his eyes roll a bit.

You tighten your grip on the base, heat shooting through you as you drink in the sounds of Lo’ak’s moans. Fuck, of course he’s loud. Your lips brush against his own as you speak. “Jesus, the sounds you make are fucking incredible.” 

A knowing smile reaches across Lo’ak’s flushed face. He parts his lips to run over yours, drinking in the sigh you let out. “Really? Well, you’ve got a pretty incredible mouth too.”

“S-shut up-” You gasp. You know you should go slow because some stupid part of you still wants to win, to make Lo’ak come undone first because of you. Yet, you can’t help the way your fist tightens at each wet little gasp coming from Lo’ak’s mouth, the way your hand quickens around yourself as you watch his pretty cock move through his fist.

“It’s true. You don’t know how many times I’ve done this thinking of your stupid smart mouth, how it would feel.” Your breath hitches at Lo’ak’s words, each breath emphasized with the roll of his hips into his own fist.

“Oh, oh, shit.” You know your desperation is seeping into your tone, suppressed moans barely being hidden by your gritted teeth. You’ve always been weak to Lo’ak, and now is no exception, especially now with the admission that he’s thought of you before.

“You look so sexy like this, all spread out under me. You know, you’re always calling me pretty boy but you’re putting me to shame here, narlor.” Lo’ak’s eyes are hazy but calculating, watching each expression on your face as the filth he’s saying echoes into the air around you. He has a look in his eye, like he knows he’s winning.

“Oh fuck you.” You groan, your hips moving desperately up into your hand. You can feel the heat of Lo’ak’s body encompassing you, the head of your cock brushing against his leg with each movement of your hips. “I know what you’re doing.”

“Hah, really?” Lo���ak gasps. The sly grin that comes across his face is all the confirmation you need.

“You’re trying to get me off, by…by saying that stuff. I-it’s cheating.” You moan as your fingers snag against the head of your cock, catching the precum leaking from your tip to slicken the slide of your fist.

“Oh, that wasn’t in the rules,” he teases, licking a stripe up your neck. He lowers himself closer to you, the head of his cock bumping against your stomach where your shirt has ridden up. “Not my fault I can’t stop thinking how perfect you’d feel wrapped around me.”

Fuck, you don’t know if he means your mouth or your ass but it really doesn’t matter, either one of the images sending your brain into a frenzy. A moan rips through you, fingers twisting around your cock. It’s so easy to picture how Lo’ak would look inside you, or how he would fall apart on your fingers. It has you hurtling dangerously close to the edge.

Your breath quickens as you look up into Lo’ak’s eyes, dark pools ringed with the slightest amount of gold. His tail coils around himself, wrapping possessively around your shin.

“Fuck, look at you. It’s like you’re out of a wet dream.” Lo’ak grits his teeth, pushing his cock up against you as he strokes himself. You can see the slick from his slit dripping across his cock and down his thighs, a sweet and musky smell coating the air.

“Hah, have a lot of d-dreams about me?” You tease, but your voice is thready, more pleading than asking.

He grins against your lips. “Maybe. Wouldn’t you like to know.”

And fuck the thought has you reeling. It’s so easy to see Lo’ak in your mind, waking up hot and needy to dirty thoughts of you, half-asleep as he stuffs a fist in his mouth and strokes himself to completion with your name on his lips.

“S-shit, shit, Lo’ak, I-” your breaths come in quick gasps, too turned on to care about any embarrassing sounds that are leaking from your throat.Your body is thrumming with energy as heat coils tightly in your stomach.

“I want you to come, narlor. Right now, on me.” Lo’ak groans and you can feel his fist bumping into your hip with his rapid movements. Your eyes are clenched shut, riding the overwhelming feeling of your orgasm 

“Come, let me see it. Now.” His voice is urgent, pleading.

“Oh, f—uh-”

The muscles in your thighs clench as you buck up into your fist, your cock bumping Lo’ak as you come across your fist and stomach, smearing your release onto your partner with each movement onto Lo’ak. Your nails dig into the skin of his shoulder, a moan tumbling from your throat as you come harder than you ever had. Maybe there was something to Lo’ak’s theory about Na’vi cock after all.

Lo’ak isn’t far behind you, panting into your mouth as his hips move unsteadily against you. His throat strains around a loud groan, and you’re able to open your eyes just soon enough to see his face scrunch in pleasure, ears twitching with each rolling wave of pleasure pulsing through him. 

You try to commit the look to memory, down to the lopsided and dopey grin that stretches across his face. Lo’ak sighs with satisfaction, his dirty hand coming to rub softly across your hip. “Told you I would win.”

You can’t help the giddy smile that comes across your face, giving a peck to his grinning lips. “Best two out of three?”

[amazinglyegg]

Paladin Danse headcanons because I love this little dude

Doesn't like being talked about behind his back, even if they're saying positive things about him. If he's talking about someone not in the room he's bringing up the things he said in that conversation next time he sees them because he thinks they deserve to hear the praise/critique.

Never really looks at the little things in life. The smell of brewing coffee, the way the sun rises over the trees, the calming ambient chatter of a shared living space... it all goes unnoticed by him. He finds himself thinking about the future constantly, and it takes someone who consciously points it all out to him for him to learn to live in the present more.

LOVES learning, although that passion dies down a bit while he's in the Brotherhood, partially due to grief/trauma and partially due to the Brotherhood indirectly teaching soldiers that outsiders are bad and the Brotherhood is always right. His love gets rekindled when he joins the Minutemen.

Doesn't really believe he has PTSD and pushes away medical help because he sort of feels offended that he was diagnosed despite his skepticism. The type of person to think "I don't have PTSD because I don't have any flashbacks, I just have nightmares and intrusive thoughts and sometimes I feel the same overwhelming emotions I felt when the trauma happened... but none of those are flashbacks!" (spoiler alert, man, not all flashbacks look like they do in movies).

Touch starved but not in the "cute clingy boyfriend" way. More like the "cringing away from touch because it's physically painful" way. He hasn't gotten any sort of physical contact in SO LONG and it's seriously fucking with him.

I was going to make a separate post about this but this man would fucking LOVE laser tag. He would be IN HIS ELEMENT. He would be THRIVING. Let this guy play a game of laser tag with some other soldiers please it would be great enrichment for him.

Strangely passionate about socks. Yes, socks. Do you have any idea how GOOD high quality socks feel?? If you complain about any sort of foot pain he has sock brand recommendations for you. He's the sock equivalent of "It's 'cause you're always on that damn phone" that parents use. "Danse my head hurts" "It's because you didn't get the socks I recommended to you" "????"

Will drink as a social activity, but mostly drinks alone. Also a sad drunk.

Would love any and all fidget toys he gets his hands on. Probably refuses to use them because most of them are colorful and "toys", but if you manage to sneak a fidget cube or a tangle in his hands while he's sitting around? That bitch will be used non-stop until he leaves it somewhere and forgets about it. Will probably adjust whatever action he's doing so he can keep one hand free to keep fidgeting.

Doesn't like anything that sticks to his hands or makes a mess on surfaces, like slime, putty, paint, mud, etc. If you hand him slime he will touch it once and then leave to go wash his hands.

Sleeps hot, probably without a blanket often because he overheats. Tosses and turns a lot. Does that thing where he can sleep through basically anything but the second you try to tiptoe past him he will shoot awake.

Keeps Cutler's and Krieg's dog tags in his bedside drawer. Doesn't do so with anyone else's, not because he doesn't care about any of his other teammates who died, but because he knows if he let himself keep doing that the drawer would get filled way too quickly. That realization was at about the same time he "toughened up" a lot more and fell into the commanding officer mindset he's still in today.

Doesn't like needles. He'll get shots and whatever if he needs to, obviously, but unlike most other undesirable things he'll actually complain about it a bit instead of acting like the tough guy. Probably looks away whenever he needs to get stitches.

Eats a ton of food, not so much water. Will absolutely demolish several servings of pasta and then complain of a dehydration headache, completely unaware that the last time he drank water was 7 hours ago.

Likes training new recruits, makes him a bit nostalgic for the old days with him and Cutler. Tends to be a bit soft with the ones that really remind him of Cutler, but in the type of way where he pulls them aside just to say "You did really well today :)" completely oblivious that the poor initiate assumed they were going to get reprimanded and are now having a mini panic attack.

[batchild9000-blog]

Arm wrestling

Preface: 

I recently watched TLOK  for the first time, and the idea for this has been floating around in my head for a hot minute. If I don’t divest my system of it, the chances of me being productive tomorrow are slim to none. o7 god speed soldier. Also I love Bolin and Opal, but it is inconvenient to consider, so we will say that the relationship ended naturally at some point after the series.

It’s hot. It’s always fucking hot in here, but tonight the unseasonable warmth makes it unbearable. Even though the sun had been down for several hours, the black star filled night was no respite. The buzzing of the city kept these alleys and hole-in-the-wall bars well above sweating temperature. It reminds you of the frantic beating of  bees' wings attempting to assassinate an unworthy queen with their body heat. You suppose you’re that queen.

The crowd you have gathered is smaller than usual, but that ought to be expected with how terrible the weather is. Nobody in their right mind would be in a place like this on a night like tonight. Another bead of sweat slides down the small pieces of hair that have fallen about your face, red from both the heat and from exertion. You take another swig from the nearly empty water skin at your side. Shit. You’ll need to refill that soon; dehydration is NOT an option. The buzzing crowd needed your attention though. Beneath the flickering yellow bulbs of the bar their eyes seem almost predatory. Shaking off the feeling you stood, plastering an arrogant smirk on your face, before addressing them. 

“So… Who is my next challenger hmm? Anyone here think they’re stronger than tough guy over there?” The man you gestured to, whom you had just beaten handily at a wagered arm wrestle, sneered, and slapped several coins onto the bar before storming out. He didn’t even finish his drink. Walking over to the abandoned pint glass (well there’s no sense in wasting it) you point to a large bearded man who had been watching the match intently. “How about you. I’m sure you could beat me! I’ll bet 20 yuans that you couldn’t!” Picking up the drink you sniff, and determining it to be palatable, throw it down. It’s extra water right? At least you tell yourself that as it burns down your esophagus. You stand there for a minute, goading the crowd to approach you. On busier nights it may only take seconds for another pompous dude to walk up, and challenge you. They often do so without seeing the previous round, and only because they believe it to be easy money. Why wouldn’t I be able to beat some unathletic, five foot nothing girl? She’s probably drunk, and overestimating herself… On this night however, your swift victory drew almost every eye in the spot, making other challengers wary. A sting shot up the tendons of your right arm. Maybe it's a bad idea to push your luck like this. Before you can really consider it, a tall young (pretty) man practically bounces toward you.

 “I’ll arm wrestle you!!!” A more genuine smile threatens to break your mask. Who is this kid? He ran up to you like a puppy. You can almost see a tail wagging behind him. Wait what? You can for sure see a tail. OH, ok, there’s a fire ferret in his shirt. Weird, but not as weird as you thought, anyways. He just looked so excited. You know it’s going to suck to break his spirit. Oh well. 

“Alright then, what’s your bet?” The man shuffles in place, rifling through his pockets for a moment before pulling out a couple yuan. Your eyebrow arches at the small wager, and you sigh. There’s no sense in wasting it. Looping back to your table, you set down ‘your’ drink on the empty next table over. Looking with resolve at the green eyed man, you place your elbow in the middle of the table, hand opened outward. Under the new lighting something about him strikes you. “Wait a minute, you’re in the movers aren’t you? I didn’t recognize you at first without the shorts!” 

“It’s true. I guess I can’t go anywhere these days without getting recognized.” the man commented to the small group that finally caught up with him. The spiky haired man to his left held his brow in one hand, and was rubbing his temples slowly. The actor looked back at you, beaming. “I’m Bolin, or as you may know me, Nuktuk, hero of the south!” The fire ferret tucked into his shirt scurried onto his shoulders as he said it, framing his head like one of the mover posters you’ve seen around. You giggled at them. They had to have practiced that. (This guy was also a pro bender at one point right? This might be a VERY bad idea.) 

“I’m Y/N, Hero! Of” you glance for a moment around you at the seedy dive, “Well its nothing too important.” Despite your better judgment you stay. Bolin grasps your hand in his. Hoping to the spirits the redness on your face hadn’t deepened because of his hand holding yours, you rattle off the challenge rules. 

“Elbows must be in contact with the table for the entire round, the loser is the first person who's hand back touches the table, and no weapons… You wouldn’t believe how many people bring weapons.” you say, shaking your head disappointedly. Crucially, ‘no bending’ has never been included in your standard rulebook. It helps to believe that what you’re doing isn’t REALLY lying, or illegal. It’s just misleading. You nod at a customer beside you, whom you had solicited previously to start the other matches. They sigh, but begrudgingly say, “Three. Two. One. START.”  You tend to start matches without any help. You never want to really hurt anyone’s pride. You just want their money. After struggling for approximately half a second though, it is clear that you are physically outmatched. This fact isn’t helped by your distraction at the prominent veins coiling up his forearm to his bulging bicep that dwarfs your own significantly. Shit. Ok, panic button. With your left arm hidden beneath the table you begin bending, little by little. The familiar burning pain coursed through your right arm as the muscle fibers stiffened, pulled taut manually by your bending. It isn’t really blood bending, that’s illegal, and it isn’t even on anyone else! All your doing is just giving yourself an edge, and it’s not blood really, you’re just kinda messing with the muscle tissue. Your, and Bolin’s hands began to rotate the opposite direction. The shock in Bolin’s face is hidden from you, as your eyes were shut, your face screwed up in agony. One thing about the pain, it made the act more realistic. You had Bolin’s hand probably three inches from the table surface when something unexpected happened. 

You stopped moving. Your surprise overcame the pain for a moment, just long enough to steal a glance at the earthbender’s face. Pure determination molded his features into a stone wall. His arm too, was like stone. No person had ever been able to stop you in your tracks like this. For a moment you were both completely still. The next moment the air was punctuated by a loud snap. You let go immediately, your bending forgotten, as a scream of shocked agony tore through you. Bolin let go, the offending arm flopping uselessly to the table. The jolt of the fracture on the hard table sent another wave of pain up through your shoulder… and that's about the last thing you remember from before you awoke here.

Bolin’s perspective: 

Bolin screamed probably as loud as you did after breaking your arm. Mako’s eyes blew out wide as he realized what happened. “What did you do?!” Makos voice piped up for the first time since arriving. Bolin, who had stood, and was now supporting your limp form was having a little bit of a  freak out. “UM.” he said. “I was just arm wrestling, and her arm… and then she passed out..” Bolin was almost at the point of tears. Mako, stood, and shook his shoulder. “Hey. Calm down, we’ll just take her to Korra, she can heal it. But what the hell? How do you just snap someones whole arm?” The last comment did not in fact, help him to calm down. Bolin pulled you into a fireman’s carry, your broken arm hanging free. As the two left the bar, unconscious you in toe. The bartender didn't even look up. Prick. 

“You broke her arm?” Korra’s voice echoed in the open courtyard of air temple island. Realizing her mistake, she switches to a harsh whisper while leading the trio to a fountain surrounded by stone benches. Her hair stuck out at odd angles, messy from sleep. “And why did you bring her here? There’s a hospital in this city for a reason, they have perfectly capable healers.” Despite her words, she pulled a cord of water from the fountain, sculpting it into a gentle glowing blob around the point of fracture. 

“Air temple island happened to be closer.” Mako replied, not mentioning that the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. Bolin had settled behind you, resting your head on his lap instead of the hard stone. He felt incredibly guilty, and it showed in every line of his face. 

“She’s going to be okay right? I’ve never seen someone just pass out like that.” Korra, sensing his concern, answered. 

She’ll be alright, honestly the fracture itself isn’t that terrible. You’ve gotten hit worse in the arena… but.” The avatar trailed off, almost confused, focusing more intently on the arm she was healing.

Your perspective:  Your eyes fluttered open, met by a set of brilliant green ones. The light of the dive didn’t do them justice. Now in the clear starlight and gentle glow, they are breathtaking. What is that glow anyways? Turning your gaze (rather reluctantly) you see your arm, coated in warm light. Is that the avatar? Shit. You finally got yourself killed with that stupid scam. At least you made it to somewhere nice in the afterlife. Or maybe you were just in the weird loopy time right before death. Bolin’s relieved voice convinced you that you were in fact not dead though. 

“She’s awake!” he exclaimed, strong hand rubbing gentle circles on your shoulder where you lay on his thighs. (ON HIS WHAT). You stuff down the jolt you felt at that realization, hoping that the avatar couldn’t feel your heart rate increasing. Oh yeah, the avatar. You sat up, the awkwardness of the moment finally hitting you. You let out a nervous chuckle. 

“Haha, it takes more than that to take me out… um. Hi. the avatar.” you glance up again at Bolin. I guess this guy really is famous. 

“Hi. Korra is fine”  her voice clipped short, you thought for a moment she must be angry, but her eyes were closed, and her brow furrowed in deep concentration. OH. You pulled your arm out of the water reflexively. 

“Oh, I really am sorry. Thank you for fixing my arm, I really appreciate it.” Your wet sleeve dripped a trail behind you as you glanced around you, stopping short as you finally realized your location. Bolin followed you up off the bench.

“You should really take it easy for a minute! You fainted, and I broke your arm! I really am sorry about that by the way. You are like REALLY strong by the way. Like crazy strong. He caught up to you, and placing a supportive hand on your upper back, tacked on another “I’m sorry for breaking your arm.” for good measure. 

“I.” you look back, Korra now standing with her arms crossed in front of her, Mako mirroring his stance (I don’t care that she doesn’t know his name, I’m not writing that in. We’ll say she knows it from pro bending, OK?). Korra broke the silence of your less than half hearted explanation. 

“Something isn’t right. The fracture healed perfectly, but there’s something else wrong with your arm. It’s almost like its filled with scar tissue. I’m surprised you can even move it!” Your eyes go wide.

 “Um.” you mutter, looking once more around at the gazebos and courtyards of air temple island for a good escape route. Not seeing one, you resign yourself to your fate. “Yeah. I guess I owe you an explanation.” you tilt your head to one side, looking once more at Bolin’s adorable, now confused, face. As you sit down once again Korra reaches for another ball of water, but you wave her off. “It’s alright.” she lets it flow back into the fountain. 

“So I run this scam. It’s really not as bad as it sounds. I only take what people are willing to throw away.” That bit is mostly for yourself. “I just take advantage of people's preconceptions! Nobody thinks that I can beat them physically, and they’re generally right, so I level the playing field.” You trail off, hesitating to admit to them what you refuse to admit to yourself. “I just bend my arm. I’ve never done it to anyone else, I don’t even know if I could.” 

Korra cuts you off, and you’re grateful. Hot tears have begun to sting behind your eyes, you raise your face to the starlight, fending them off. 

“You’re a bloodbender.” the word falls through the pit in your stomach, making your extremities blanch cold in the warm air.

“NO.” you shudder, and the tears fall silently. “I am just a person trying to make a living! I never asked for it. I never even wanted to. But it’s here, and it’s mine. So I use it.” The words are chopped, and breathy in the hot nighttime. “Look, I'm sorry. I’m sorry I misled you, I’m sorry about your money.” You step toward Bolin. Digging through your pockets for the handful of yuan he had presented you. Failing to find it you glance down, but a second later you find your face buried in soft green linen. Bolin’s arms around you are firm and unwavering. You cling to him like a mollusk on the rocks, as you begin to cry in earnest. 

“It’s ok. It’s going to be ok.” He says softly, and it breaks you. Silent sobs rack your chest. As your sin is laid bare before the starlight, and you are forgiven. (is that too dramatic, the catholic guilt is coming in clutch) You stay like that for a minute, and your breathing calms. Finally you pull back, tearstained eyes meeting his. “I know what that’s like. To do what you need to to survive. You’re going to be ok. I promise.” His assurance threatens to send you into tears again, but for now you just look away. Pulling his hand forward, tracing the lines of his palm with your fingertips, you sniff. “Thank you.” squeezing his hand in yours. “Thank you.”

And then they get married and live happily ever after the end! byeeee

hopefully I can actually be productive now.

Also I’m not going to proof read or edit this 🤷‍♀️

[caveat-canine]

someone interesting just had to be blocked from my page and I usually don't share my outright opinions on things but I didn't know it was such a big thing in the community so here goes?

In typical scavenger fashion, I'm into vulture culture. I've never seen anyone in the vc community ever preach anything unethical but we do get compared to taxidermists and such quite often, which is alright since the venn diagram of that tends to be a big ol circle.

The collection and trade of animal remains isn't a black and white topic. There's ethical ways to obtain animal remains. There's unethical ways to obtain animal remains. Here's a little biased breakdown about how I feel about these ways.

Fur farms, hunting for sport, trophy hunting, and poaching- not ok.

Gathering roadkill/naturally deceased remains, hunting for food, using as much of a carcass as possible- ok and great.

Animal remains do not automatically equate to animal abuse/exploitation. I think it's important to critically think about things like this, especially in the nonhuman/therian community. It can be uncomfortable seeing remains of your species. Your personal discomfort does not automatically make something wrong, though.

Little rant/story time:

Most of the bones I have, I've found myself. I usually vulture in the woods near my house, but a few times have been lucky enough vulture on farmland owned by a horse rancher my mom used to work for. She has several hundred acres of land, but she's elderly and widowed so a lot of the forest isn't kept up with. A group of 20- something year olds decided to start dumping deer in a pit in the middle of the woods- that's where I found my buck skull. He's missing his antlers, because he was poached. Unethically killed? Yes. Unethically sourced? Up to you.

I have a fox, mink, and coyote skull, along with three rabbit pelts for my altar space, and a coyote tooth. All of them were purchased at my local powwow. Unethically sourced? Now I'm a white dude, so I can't really speak on this, but look me in the eyes and tell me indigenous hunting is unethical, and you will get laughed at, at the least.

My friend has a bat skeleton she's re-articulating. She found it dehydrated on the ground at her college campus and after an entire fiasco of the bio team taking care of it for a bit, it unfortunately passed. And now the skeleton is being used for education. Ethically sourced? They did all they could to save it.

My point? All three of these examples are different situations that aren't "fur farms" or "trophy hunting". Having a fox tail that was bought from some etsy seller who repurposes roadkill isn't inherently BAD. Finding a cool skull in the woods and keeping it to feel closer to nature isn't unethical.

Hell. If you/your family bought something from a fur farm because no one knew better? Now you know better, but treat it with respect.

Respect and education is what's going to change things, not calling others evil for having a hobby or an interest.

[impossiblesuitcase]

I normally sing Carswell's Thorne's praises, but his strategy to claim he and Cress were a married couple despite her looking exactly like a sixteen-year-old, calling her "Mrs Smith", and retaining their ACTUAL FIRST NAMES WHEN HE IS A RENOWNED CRIMINAL is unequivocally dumb.

Dude, I know you were severely dehydrated, blind and probably concussed. But. My Man.

[groovygrub]

heyyy folks!!! as promised, a brief(...ish) explanation of what's been going down:

so we had ourselves a bit of a ~tornadic thunderstorm~ almost a week ago; apparently FOUR lil twisters touched down in our area and several were visible from our driveway?!! – tragically, i didn't get to actually see the tornados because i was tripping too hard (here's some common sense disguised as a fun fact! if you consume 16x a "microdose" of shrooms, especially combined with other edibles, the dose isn't so micro anymore!! that shit had me macro-ed, dude 😩 learn from my mistakes!) and also didn't expect any visible touchdown from our house :((( i cried when i found out i missed out on the nados, ngl.

anyway, the majority of the city lost all power and my house just got it back last night! we still got some live wires ⚡ hanging in our yard so it's cordoned off but hopefully they'll fix that soon because i really gotta go foraging soon & would prefer not to get yelled at and/or zippity zapped. i'm already getting zippity zapped enough by my own brain, you know??

while on the topic of brain zaps!! the extreme heat & humidity and stress (and without any AC, air purifier, very little water, etc) has been... less-than-compatible with my chronic health shit (especially my seizures, POTS, EDS, mast cell disease, and migraines) 😅 i've had 5+ (?) episodes over the past week and they're still periodically making little cameos 🥲

definitely one of the worst clusters i've had yet tbh. after the initial seizure, i couldn't really move & was just chilling there and my broke-ass brain very helpfully kept supplying me with nothing but the thought "damn, bro got prone" (i would make a great doctor, i know). and then i started sobbing because my CNS was too afk to go grab a drink and seizures always make me sooo goddamn thirsty for some reason & i was already so dehydrated 💀

and i didn't even get to see any nados!!!! like!!! that's so twisted, dude (pun really not even intended, just slipped out, whoops). "fucked up" doesn't even begin to describe it. absolutely gargantuan L for me :((( an elephantine L, a BROBDINGNAGIAN L, if you will. feels like i just got hoodwinked by the cosmos.

anyhowsies. i set forth with the intention of just letting y'all know why i've been playing tumblr hooky (oh!! and in the days immediately leading up to the power outage, i was just busy being helplessly in love. still am, don't have any plans of stopping ❤️✨ but i'm also trying to be more present again for my beloved little army of weirdos!) and to say sorry for the delay in memes 😕 so idk how it turned into this mess, my b!

i'm slowly working through my notifications too!! just takes some extra time to process things when Brain is rebooting (and Brain has to fully reboot every time i have an episode 🙄 dramatic ass lil bitch). thank you so much for all your patience, birds & bees (new inclusive alternative to "ladies & gentlemen" just dropped!) 💛

ps to my wonderful moot who said they were queueing one of my memes for last monday: if you're reading this, please know i didn't forget about you or your post!! i WILL get to it, promise! 🙏

[0l0x]

Here's the list of conditions doctors have gaslit me about over the years. By that i mean, i complain of matching symptoms and ask them to test me for these, but they blow me off, tell me it's just anxiety, and refuse to test me until i eventually end up in the ER:

Tonsilitis. First doc said it was "anxiety", second said "just a cold", then finally got diagnosed weeks later when my airway closed up and oxygen dropped. This one still floors me. I had it for 3 months. Simple steroid injection fixed it in 3 hours.

POTS. "Anxiety".

A body temp of 95. "Your thermometer is broken". I used 3 different thermometers, all read 95 and i was shaking so violently i couldn't stand. My temp would drop like this randomly, but every time i went in they'd catch it at 96 and tell me "some people just run low, if it was 95 you'd be dead"...finally caught it at the ER, and even then they refused to believe me when i said it was accurate, blamed broken equipment, and brought out another thermometer to confirm. 🙄

UTI. "Anxiety" and "dehydration ". Or they'd say "you just had a test 2 weeks ago, you don't need another one". Went out of network, got tested by a new doc, and sure enough...

C.difficile infection. "Anxiety", "IBS", "bad diet". I suffered for weeks, dropped to 90lbs, went to urgent care 3 times telling them it was probably cdiff, only for them to keep blowing me off. Finally screamed at the bitch doc that i won't exit the building until she tests me for cdiff. She was like "i keep telling you you're too young to have that, but fine, if you're going to throw a tantrum about it 🙄"...same doc calls me 2 hours later, "you have cdiff, go pick up your prescription lol". Never apologized, never took responsibility for my suffering.

Hypothyroidism. "Anxiety", "depression", "you just need to exercise more", "you look fine".

Gut dysbiosis. "Anxiety", "IBS".

GERD. "Anxiety".

Colitis. "Anxiety", "IBS".

Cluster headaches. "Anxiety", "stress".

Aerobic vaginitis. "Anxiety", "hygiene issue". They kept testing me for STDs and pregnancy despite me repeatedly telling them it was a bacterial infection and only a microscopy will pick it up. They kept saying "nope, no infection, you're just thinking too hard about it"...2 YEARS later, finally got a doc to give me the proper test and by then the infection was severe. Previous docs kept gaslighting me, telling me "that test doesn't exist, if it's not an STD then infection isn't possible "...fucking idiots. An actual OBGYN included, she was useless. It was a random urgent care doc who knew what test i was talking about and he did it, no problem.

For some reason, i had to fight with them for weeks, months, or years to get them to test me for each of these things. Why. Whyyyyyyy is every diagnosis such a battle. Is it my shitty insurance? Is it misogyny? Ageism? Doctor laziness? Local medical system collapse?

I'm so fucking over it dude. Sorry, just needed to rant.

[gothicafish]

WWDITS S5 SPOILERS

I feel like a lot of post I've seen about guillermo choosing to be human have never been in a situation where theyve wanted something so bad that they not only lose sight of why they wanted it but become so absorbed in not having it that they do something stupid about getting it. And that sounds like a very specific thing to feel but it happens in real life with in the most ordinary circumstances. And then when you finally have The Thing you realize it's not what you want or that you wanted it for the wrong reasons or weren't ready for it or all of the above. And I can't explain how normal it is to make such a sharp turn towards giving it up because it doesn't work for you/feel like you.

Just to put that feeling in a real life, non vampire sense, when I was in high school I really wanted a job. It seemed like all my friends had jobs and the idea of having my own money sounded fantastic, especially coming from a low income home where I hesitated to ask for things because I didn't feel they were immediately necessary or necessary at all in the light of our finances. So I applied several places (literally any place that was hiring) and every time I got a rejection email I felt so deflated and so brushed off and more importantly I felt like I wasn't worth anyone's time. So you can imagine how ecstatic I was when I got a call back from this hot dog place. I never really at there much but a job is a job. That's how viewed it and I wanted it so bad because I felt like I had so many things to prove, as a student, as a worker and as a functional person. So I go to the interview and I get the job. It was in the summer so I didn't have school and I worked in the mornings and evenings part time. And immediately it was not what I thought it was going to be. But I figured that was part of it yaknow getting to know a new place can be rough. But on the second or third day the owner dude of the restaraunt (who literally does nothing but come in and tell the workers shit) he comes in while I was doing dishes and keep in mind this is one of the first times I've done dishes in a restaurant environment (and if you've ever worked in food service you know there's a very specific way to wash dishes) so the dude comes in sees I'm doing it wrong and yells at my manager for not properly teaching me how to do something. The manager then tells me to ask if I don't know how to do something (I thought I was doing it right) and there were several incidences where he would come in and yell at somebody (and I'm talking have a full out burst) for something mediocre.

I remember this one time he came in and yelled at us because we left the back door open a Crack because the air conditioner wasn't working (it didn't work the whole Two months I was there). He said it was a hazard as someone random could come in and cause problems. And I would agree if it was sumer, over 100 degrees EVERYDAY EVEN AFTER THE SUN GOES DOWN AND IF WE DIDNT HAVE TWO STOVES TWO FRIERS AND A BOILING WATER STATION TO KEEP THINGS HOT. I literally went home every day dehydrated from sweating so much and that not an exaggeration AND WE WERENT ALLOWED TO HAVE DRINKS ALL WE HAD WAS A LIL CUP TO GET SOFT DRINKS FROM. So yeah I didn't work there very long. So not only was the boss a total freak wad (the managers were cool tho), I just felt so horrible at everything I was doing there. I would get told how not to do things on the daily and I would beat myself up about it. There were times were I would try not to cry because how badly I felt about myself and the job I was doing because of how many times I had to be told how to do things. I felt stupid, and the fact that my friends and people my age could do this everyday with out problems ONTOP of school made me feel worse. I would literally come home and cry because of how horrible being there made me feel. It bothered me so much that I've hesitated getting another job after that and now that I'm looking for a job to pay for college I feel so much anxiety about it being like that again. And I've sworn off food service cause fuck that. Everyone who works a food service/customer service jobs everyday of their lives deserves a metal of Valor bc goddam idk how you do it. So when it got to much for me I made an impulsive decision to quit and I did and I never went back. But I felt like shit afterwords about being so vocal about getting a job and then not being able to handle it, but it was a lot better than being there.

That was a very long winded way if saying I sympathize with guillermo and I understand him completely and how humiliating it can feel to be in that position. And I'm glad nandor and the crew was nice about it cause I felt it in my soul.

[captain-stretch-nuts]

Ok y'all this is a long post bear with me lmfao I promise it's worth the read

Picture it. Saul of Tarsus has participated in the completely unjustified extrajudicial execution (stoning) of St. Stephen and generally spent his time persecuting a cult of symbolic-flesh-eating weirdo hippies, wherever they hid from the watchful eyes of Caesar, who the great Satan that was Rome declared in a status of Superstitio rather than Religio. This meant there was no validity to their beliefs in the eyes of the state and Saul took it upon himself as a Pharisee to quash emerging Christians because Superstitios were not allowed at all in the Empire.

So on and on he goes opposing and harming cultists who, despite what the State had told him, seemed rather inoffensive and even noble in their aim of a crazy idea like loving one another. All of this guilt of participating in the execution of an innocent man is culminating on the road to Damascus when (here comes the hot take) my man pops a nice big hashish cake to make his longass walk in the desert bearable and ohhhhh brother. Oh boy. It's hittin. He starts seeing mirage shit dehydrated dry mouthed af in the heat and he faces his greatest trauma of being a progressively less-willing killer. He faces Prime Hippie. Jesus.

Saul is brought to his knees from the exhaustion. His inhibitions that hold back his regrets have dissolved into the sands of his footsteps on the path. He bears the full weight of what he has done and sinks into the inevitable conclusion of what he must now do, which is to keep their faith alive in himself, even if it meant Rome would throw him in jail for it (which they did), even if he had to change his name because he could not even withstand the pain of Saul. Thus, he became Paul. Sure, Paul was the Roman version of the name, but if you take into account his writings and insistence on original sin and general brokenness of humanity, you realize he is projecting his guilt into his writings.

Dude had the absolute worst trip of his life and recorded his conversion from his perspective minus the chemical help mention because let's be real, the desert just Be Doin That hallucination shit all on its own. His interpretation of Christianity was still through the eyes of a Pharisee, and he got a little fast and loose (severely misinterpreted the religion of early Christians; Islam has HUGE criticisms against him for this) with the beliefs.

Now that's in today's Bible. And the absolute worst Christians on earth hold Paul up as a paragon of their beliefs when what he was, by his own admission, was a flawed and broken and evil man who never knew just how much he had to change the story on himself to keep from going completely insane from the guilt of pelting a man with stones until his body lay still in the ground half-buried.

[billkaulitzwife]

CAN YOU DO MORE HEADCANNONS ON PONYBOY???

HEY KURT AND YEA OFC!!

okay imma do sfw and nsfw bc.... well kurt ik you.

warnings!

swearing, nsfw, mention of sêx, idk what else...

Now playing: your favourite dress

rip lil peep. we (i) miss u.

SFW :))

Dates.

This man loves dates.

He'd always take you to whatever movies you'd like or anything paul mcfuckin newman😃

This kid has a death wish

Like he'll obliterate ANY soc last dares put his eyes on you

He loves when you play with his hair and pull him into kisses by the tufts of hair on his neck

Pony really likes kisses

LIKE

PLEASE KISS THIS MANS FACE

TELL HIM HES PRETTY

HE WILL MELT

He seems like if Johnny didn't die he'd be a silver guy, but after he was always gold.

luckily im my au johnny is well and alive

bobs js.

dead.

BUT

Pony is so in love with you he pushes SHERRY MCFUCKING VALENCE away

Ever since y'all got together, Soda would be really protective of not js him

but you.

like you grew on him.

ur his sibling in law

Pony felt really happy Soda and Darry accepted you so quick

You were in the gang anyways.

Pony blushes when you kiss him

Like over text this man is so bold

"Hey Y/N i miss your pretty face"

"kicking my legs"

"Y/N you shld come over my brothers arent home"

but irl hes like

too tense

he doesnt wanna like hurt you or make you uncomfortable

but he still yk made a move

When you asked him out (or he asked you) his hands were sweatier than Satan's ballsack dude.

Like???

hyperhidrosis who?

He gets nervous when y'all kiss

he feels like if he just went for it he'd faceplant into you

ykwim babes?

yea... yea you do cutie

ik yall love me.

hes defo a lil peep stan

he loves idk how to say it but like calling you nicknames that dont fucking correlate to ur name

like my friend calls her boyfriend applesauce and i feel pony would call you like...

tuna

(if u cant tell im tired)

he loves when you get along with addi(me)

he'd probably love motionless in white if he was a metalhead

but he defo like Elvis, The Crests, Beach Boys, etc.

HE WOULD HATE THE MINIONS MOVIES

IDK WHY HE JUST WOULD

his fav princess would be Ariel

im not sure why

he'd js be like "ugh im so her"

Like.

Ponyboy

Michael

Curtis

get yo shi together

he definitely smells like cigs and lavender old spice

hes a sucker

his favourite flavour anything is grape or banana.

NSFW >:)

he's a sucker for braiding ur hair (if its long) or just tugging on it in general

motherclucker knows your weak spots on ur neck and stomach

this man wld mess up ur makeup

ofc he believes in aftercare unlike

*cough cough* dallas *cough cough*

hes a praise guy. hates degrading you.

pony would probably do the "bop it" position

js like ol dally taught him😋

he loves boobs.😋

like when youre getting undressed this man is like baffled

"whatd you get on the scie- woah.😍"

"they looked at me first, Y/N."

He loves sluttying (is that a word) up your nickname

Like for example

with my name, addi, he'd probably get in my ear and whine it

but thats my brother.

so

ANYWAYS

he loves being called puppy

or even you js sayin pony

hes like a switch

turned on

im so severely tired and dehydrated.

okay bye i love u all goldens 🫶

[pinkiepiebones]

Hi! I absolutely love your writing, you always have just the right blend of angst/emotion/humour which makes your writing so enjoyable. You asked for prompts, so if you’re still taking them, may I request a Renfield and Dr Seward interaction, set in the novel/movie timeframe?

Okay first of all I'm ???!!! I love and appreciate your kind words so much!!!!

So here's the thing- 1) I'm not good at the book's timeline and B) the 1931 movie is very much not based on the book, and Renfield 2023 is based on the 1931 movie, not the book, so I have a different version od Seward in my head. In fact, Renfield met a Doctor Seward in my fic Scar Tissue...

Anyway, I still want to send you home with something in your bag, so-

-

Robert never liked doctors. He had grown up in an era, in a village where leeches were still considered good medicine. He never told Rebecca that; she'd never let him live it down.

Today she was driving him- as she often did when she was available, as Robert never learned to drive and did not in fact own a car- back for a follow up with a withered old ex-Mafia doctor.

Doctor Seward.

The name still sent jolts of dread up Robert's spine. Several decades ago he had been found in the belly of a merchant vessel, the Vesta, his grip on reality more than deteriorated partly due to the thrall of Count Dracula, and partly due to the weeks he had been confined in the cargo hold, guarding Dracula's coffin and eating the occasional rat that dared to venture too close to him. The sailors who found him took him to the sanitarium- fucking awful name for a fucking awful idea of a place. There he had been placed under the care of Doctor Jack Seward, and, later, Professor Van Helsing. Admittedly, Robert didn't remember much of his actual treatments, if any, in Seward's sanitarium; his attempts to remember were mostly blotted out and filled with the howling of wolves and the feel of cold stone stairs...

"Robert! Jeez dude, you're freaking me out."

Robert startled back to the present. He was still sitting in Rebecca's car. She was standing by the passenger side door, looking at him over her sunglasses. She had parked in the cracked and sun-baked parking lot in front of a desolate-looking strip mall which housed a nail salon at one end, a pizza parlor on the other, and in the middle a nondescript office from which this Doctor Seward, present tense, worked. Robert clambered out of the car and Rebecca put a hand on his arm. "You okay? We can blow this off if you want."

"I'm fine," Robert lied. "Just remembered something."

Rebecca frowned but trusted him. She led the way into the office. The inside had wood-panel walls and sickly yellowing floors and had the uneasy atmosphere of a cheaply made 1980s horror film. Or even a cheaply made 1980s courtroom drama film.

The receptionist barely looked up from her very important nail filing and waved Robert and Rebecca back. Rebecca fumbled for Robert's hand and squeezed.

"This is just a little follow up," she said as much for him as for her. "No X-rays this time." She let go and sighed. The first visit had scared her. Seward had shown Robert- and her- that Dracula's blood had never healed Robert fully, it had just zipped up his skin and set his muscle and bone tissue into spasms of replication, resulting in pockets of tissue masses inside his body. Seward had expressed genuine concern for Robert's pain and wrote him a prescription for it. And now they were back in the same exam room, with the same old magazines, only this time Robert wasn't in one of those silly paper gowns.

Doctor Seward shuffled in before Robert and Rebecca could start talking, which Rebecca was thankful for. He looked just as ancient and wrinkly as he had been when they first met, like a super-dehydrated Mister Potato Head.

"Mister Renfield," he said gruffly, extending his hand for a shake. No sooner had he gripped Robert's hand he turned and greeted Rebecca. "Not wife nor girlfriend."

"Rebecca," Rebecca said sternly.

"Hm."

Doctor Seward turned his attention back to his patient. "How you been, Mister Renfield? How's the pain?"

"Oh, um." Robert was sitting on the exam table. He looked down at his shoes. "I can definitely tell a difference in my day-to-day activities, thanks to the pain medication your prescribed."

Doctor Seward adjusted his thick glasses. "So, no more bizarre injuries that require a vampire's intervention?"

Rebecca stood, suddenly, and spoke. "Okay, enough bullshit. How do you know about that? Last time we were here, you called Robert a familiar. You know something, so spill."

The old doctor looked at Robert, who gave a little shrug and nod. Doctor Seward chuckled. "Well, Rebecca, it's not a big twist. A long time ago Mister Renfield here was a resident of Seward's Sanitarium." Rebecca stared at Robert, who nodded and managed to give her an apologetic 'sorry I didn't tell you about my time in a sanitarium' look.

"That Seward was my father."

Robert nearly fell off the exam table. "The fuck?" he exclaimed, then immediately after, "shit, sorry, I'm just-"

"Fuck," Rebecca agreed.

Doctor Seward nodded. "Yeah. After pop died I was tasked with going through his papers, y'know, what to save and what to toss. Found his old notes about Mister Renfield." He gave Robert a shockingly gentle smile. "Sorry for not bein' up front about this. Figured you wouldn't want to be reminded of my pop and your time with him."

Then, Doctor Seward returned to his gruff self. "Aright, clear out. The Invisible Man's coming in for X-Rays soon."

In the car, barely out of the parking lot, Rebecca gripped the wheel tight. "This is some fucking weird shit, Robert."

Robert was looking out his window, partially daydreaming. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is," Rebecca sighed, turning in to traffic, "that it's really weird that this Mafia doctor I knew about from my policing days just so happens to be the son of a doctor who treated you? That's weird!"

Robert made a noncommittal noise.

"It's like someone's trying to write your life, but that someone's also kinda lazy, I guess."

Robert snickered. "Well, if my life was being written, I'd certainly give the writer five stars for effort."

Rebecca rolled her eyes. "You're just saying that so the writer is nice to you."

Robert made a noncommittal noise.

[dragonquill]

The last few weeks, y'all

My mother keeps saying it's been a "tough karma weekend" and I just want to shake her and ask her does the understand that implies I deserve it??? Does she think I am a horrible person??

Anyway

Last May, I felt like I had a really nasty uti (called a "bladder infection" colloquially where I live). I went to the doc, given antibiotics of the general kind, and was tested for an actual UTI. Never got results. Called, never got an answer, etc.

Continue to be sick through June and July. With the return to work looming, I went to my regular doc in mid-July. I was given antibiotics and a test to see if there was a UTI.

The techs on the test accidentally tore the name label, making the final "e" of my last name disappear, so the test could not be run.

Doctor is making noise about cancer being more important to check for than running another infection check, and I'm referred to a specialist. He talks cancer (I'm cool, this is fine, this is fine, I mean, someone at my workplace was literally fired for missing too many days due to cancer without enough "evidence" last year, but I'm SURE IT WILL BE FINE) , then orders a CT scan and finds a HUGE KIDNEY STONE in my right kidney.

16 mm, if you are a kidney stone aficionado like myself. A stone must be under 5 mm to have a chance of passing on its own.

Now first, I have had about a dozen stones over the last 20 years, but this one was in the kidney, so it didn't hurt like a stone. It was just screwing stuff up in there, thus making the painful and sick UTI symptoms.

Secondly, this should have been dealt with back in March but whatEVS.

I put off the surgery for a few weeks because we're back to work and being out in the beginning of the year is a nightmare.

August 28, I have the procedure to break up the stone and a stent put in.

August 29, I know that something is Not Right because I am in constant, throbbing pain.

August 30, I call the doc and am, of course, completely dismissed about the whole pain issue. "That's normal" the nurse says before basically hanging up on me.

Sept. 7, 9:15 am. The stent is removed at the doctor's office. The relief is incalculable because that thing hurt like a MOTHER every second of every day.

By 1:00 I know that something is, once again, Very Wrong, because THIS time I have the HELLA OW back pain that is a kidney stone in the ol' tubes AND feel like I am (TMI) still peeing boiling acid as I have since Aug. 29. And for a special bonus, there is vomiting. (There's no fever. I haven't run a fever in two decades. My body just Does Not Care to Try That Hard.)

Call doc, leave message. Call doc at 1, leave message. Call doc at 3, leave message. Decide fine, I will drive my deeply pained and probably shouldn't be driving ass 40 minutes to the hospital ER. (An ambulance ride would be 100s of dollars, even with my pretty good health insurance, and I've already spent several hundred on this situation in copays.)

Sitting in the ER with 1/4 of the city's population, the doc's office finally calls back around 4 pm and says, "With those symptoms, you need to go immediately to the AR."

SURPRISE BENCH I'M ALREADY HERE.

Wait in the ER and have a test now and again from ~4pm to 10:30 pm. (The hospital did make sure I paid my $150 ER copay even though they had done nothing for two hours at the time. Priorities.) Make nice with the nurses, trying to figure out why I have been given zero pain meds when I have been officially referred my by doctor for a kidney stone related issue. Find out about 9 they will not give me pain meds without a urinalysis.

My dudes, my laydees, my folks who have no time for the gender binary, I had no liquid left in my poor, dehydrated, screaming body. ALSO the drink machine in the ER is closed and I am there alone, so I can't send someone to brave the streets in search of some gosh darned water. THERE IS NO WATER TO DRINK EXCEPT THE BATHROOM TAP AND NOT A SINGLE CUP AVAILABLE TO THE ILL MASSES.

A kind nurse finally gets me a cup of ice water, which I gulp down because dammIT I am in pain. Finally, peeage happens around 10:00.

It takes more than an hour to run the test and find out, wow, I have a raging infection. By this time I have had an abdominal sonogram and a CT scan, so they KNOW I have a giant obstruction! WHY DID I NEED AN INFECTION TO GET PAINKILLERS.

So I'm sitting there, crying silently in pain because you know. And the skin on my face is RIDICULOUS and literally is BURNED BY MY TEARS so I look an especial mess and no one is checking on me but I am clearly making the other pathetic ER patrons uncomfortable. Finally, the nurse I had been very politely asking for updates throughout the night comes up and asks, "Are you ready to get out of here?" and moves me, bless her, to a weird little side room with a powerful "This used to be a closet vibe." I get painkillers a little before midnight. I have been in full kidney stone pain for 11 hours.

The nurses tell me the CT scan show a 1.6 centimeter stone in my tubage. I think, "Wait, that's hardly smaller than it was," before my American brain goes back to middle school math class and says, "WAIT THAT IS EXACTLY THE SAME AS 16 MM WHAT THE H E DOUBLE HOCKEY STICKS?!"

At 1:30 AM I am moved to the room and told my doc will see me in the morning.

Doc arrives ~8 am. I have had nothing to drink since midnight, so I am hoping we get this show on the road. He tries to claim the original procedure "worked" because the stone is broken up it just, you know, all JAMMED ITSELF BACK INTO A BALL as soon as the stent was out and built a little campsite complete with RAGING FIRE so we are gonna have to have another procedure under full anesthesia to pull it out and put in another stent.

I was too tired to strangle him, so I am not in jail.

I am finally taken back for surgical prep and to sign my life away around 4. I sit around for hours and finally go back to surgery ~ 7 pm.

Friends, acquaintances, and mortal enemies, I was so fricking thirsty.

ANYWAY I'm back to my room, feeling grumpy because my version of getting high from "the good stuff" is becoming Oscar the Grouch Minus Trashcan. I never get to feel all floaty and nice. Because life is a bench.

By the next morning, it is absolutely clear to me that something was VERY WRONG with the previous stent because THIS one is mildly uncomfortable, and not HELLO KNIVES TO THE GUT by my doc is just still trying to claim the first surgery was a success even though it FAILED SO BADLY I HAD A SECOND SURGERY (complete with copay). But whatever, your girl is tired, I wanna go home.

I am driven home because one can't drive on The Good Stuff. I'm home about 2 pm on Saturday afternoon, and zonk out in front of the television. Hallelujah.

Friend gives me a ride to the ER parking lot on Sunday to get my car. This means I haven't taken pain pills, but I'm not feeling the need since there is, apparently, nothing wrong with this fnjdksbhkbgiywebubWOEING stent unlike the first one. We pull up, I hop out and turn the key in my lovely little toy car.

AND IT DOES NOT START.

IT HAS DIED JUST SITTING IN THE ER PARKING LOT.

WHAT THE HELL ROSALEE??? I THOUGHT WE LOVED EACH OTHER!! I KNOW I KEEP TOO MUCH JUNK IN THE BACKSEAT BUT THIS???

Now, I do not have my cellphone because I somehow didn't plug it in last night and it was dead this morning. I am blaming the grouchy morphine. My jumper cables are, I realize, hanging in my garage, and my friend doesn't have any. We take her car to go buy jumper cables. Return to the ER parking lot, where we have become an entertaining show for the security personnel stuck out by the front entrance, drinking coffee and most likely taking bets on jumping the toy battery inside my toy car, which is stupidly difficult to get hooked up to the cables.

While I am waging war, a lovely mechanic walks by (female presenting person by open car hood looking pitiful generally leads to this in my area, and I appreciate it) and finally! Rosalee is running!

My friend insists on following me back to the auto place Just in Case only she leaves her phone in my car somehow and I have NO phone and we completely misunderstand what was supposed to happen and lose each other to driving the 2 miles between ER and Auto Zone several times trying to figure out where the heckadoodle the other person IS.

Every time you go through the ER parking lot, it costs $2 to get out. Just. As a bonus.

BUT FINALLY we met up at the AutoZone, and of course my Toy Battery is only available in one premium style (because toy cars are a pain in the klodney; my toy car also comes with impossible-to-find TOY TIRES, I kid you not, do not trust online reviews and research when you are a vehicle luddite). But that's okay! It's fine! The wonderful, knowledgeable tech installs it, my friend and I part ways with only minimal frustrated crying, she has her phone, I have my car, and I DRIVE HOME TO MY HOUSE AND GO TO BED FOREVER AND EVER AMEN.

Except I have to get everything ready for work tomorrow, so.....I'm awake again.

And my mother keeps insisting it's a "bad karma experience" and I'm just

DO YOU THINK I AM A SERIAL KILLER OR SOMETHING I LITERALLY DO NOT SQUASH SPIDERS.

Anyway, have a nice week, everyone, I am going back to bed until 6 in the ack emma.

Bai.