#theres ONE WINDOW in the entire apartment

[stinkrascal]

I WISH MY APARTMENT HAD WINDOWS SO FUCKING BAD UGH

[thatdemiboymess]

Both my computers have given up on life and I am so sad and so very bored. Couldn't even do my full Gaia dailies, today. 😞

[fools-ramblings-and-whatnot]

Drabble: The Prefect's routine

I wonder if Yuu's friends ever realize how awful their circumstances is, how innately lonely and scary it is to be far away from home, with a slim chance of returning?

Yuu has put effort Ramshackle dorm to make it livable. They expended time, effort, and their meager allowance to make a home out of it. It distracts them from thinking too much of their home.

Yuu can still remember the coldness of the night they first arrive. The aching of their body as they battled ghosts and the taste of dust in their tongue when they woke up. The wind blew open the window shutters, the hinges of the doors were groaning. There was no peace or comfort except from the warmth of Grim's body.

They found no rest the following days as they had to deal with the first overblot.

Then they had to deal with renovations. They had to fix the broken faucets, replace the waterpipes and throw away rusted metal or rotten wood. They had to clean every corner that they could. The cobwebs on the walls, in the corners and under the tables. One time they fell to the basement due to a rotten floorboard.

In the weekdays they had to study those they were unfamiliar with, alchemy, magic,flying, and history. They felt like a kindergartener as they knew nothing . At night instead of immediately resting they had to do their homework, which they do not understand . Then it was back to trying to fix the faucet to get some water. If the boiler wasn't working, they had to boil hot water in a kettle to take a soothing bath.

Grim and the Ghosts atleast offered them companionship. They had no phone so they take any interaction they get.

The only clothing they ever had with them were the clothes behind their back, which they used as pajamas. Crowley gave them 3 sets of wrinkly old school uniforms,one for class, one for Pe and one for ceremonies, they were ill fitting but atleast they could change . Alas, they had to sew it up together as the seams fell apart after one washing. It still smelled like dust and old mold.

They had nothing else to wear during the weekends, so they settled in sewing up old curtains into shirts. Ace and Deuce were kind enough to donate to them a pair of shorts each, taking pity when they saw Yuu struggling to fix an ancient sewing machine so they could sew more clothing.

Yuu has gotten pretty good at mending old clothes and making new shirts. They even patched up the couch and the curtains.

Then there was the roof. Oh the damn roof keeps leaking and the damn window shutters keeps banging! It drove them insane that they went and tried to fix it themselves, reading up on an old book to learn how to fix it.

That was the first time they fell off the roof.

Luckily they landed on a particularly strong branch. Their stomach was bruised the whole month, which they hid from their friends.They were resilient and stuborn to a fault.

Then theres the laundry that needs to be done. They do it all one friday night, so that if it ever rains by Sunday they'd have fresh clothes to go. The harder part was washing the beddings and the couach, the curtains and the carpets.

The worst was when the electricity turned off or the light bulb bursts. The nights were very cold and they had to huddle closer to Grim while they wait for the next day.

And let's not forget the garden, the trees needd trimming. The fence needed repainting. The gate needed replacing. The lawn needed mowing.

It was like that, day by day. Study, clean up ramshackle, find another broken thing in the dorm, fix it, do homework, do Crowley's errands, hang out with their friends.

Repeat.Repeat. Repeat.

If there was a moment of peace and quite, it never lasted long.

It surprises the others when Yuu doesn't keep a grudge against those who overblotted. The guys who were the reason Yuu had more on their plate. The persons who were the reason Crowley made Yuu write an entire report on the happenings.Alas, they still did it with no complaints.

Yuu makes sure that they do not have the time to be idle. If they hands are, their mind shouldn't .

Never ever EVER be alone with their own thoughts.

They cannot allow themselves to wallow in self pity. They had a dorm to maintain, a cat to take care of, friends to entertain and school work to be done.

Their hands have never felt rougher.Their shoulder never felt so stiffer.

But that's just the way things go.

[urprettylittlething]

Stuffed Full

Yandere - Gojo Satoru x CursedKitty! Reader x Geto Suguru

A/N - Again another part of CursedKitty universe! This is basically a smut series at this point but im not complaining lmao, this was partly requested by a lovely anon, which i also mixed with a request from someone on AO3 <333 Ty my lovess, ive been so busy recently and ive been getting little sleep but ive finally got another part for you all, they seem to get longer and longer lmao, And thank you all so much for all the love on my CursedKitty Universe <3333 It means a lot to me that you all enjoy it so much, i love to read any comments you guys leave it really makes my day :,) <333333 Ily all so much i hope you enjoy my second written smut ever </3 If you want to request anything feel free! <3

summary - You beg them for cock so don't be surprised when you get two.

warnings - she kinda begs for it so ig consensual? But Dubcon to be safe, female anatomy, smut, two cocks in one hole, double stuffed, clit play, squirting, a lot of cum, lots of praise, dumbification? i think so, very vague yandere vibes but theres something there, crying during sex, overstimulation? probably, shes desperate lol, heat vibes, (let me know if i need to add more please)

genre - Oneshot

wc - 2.3k

-not edited yet, will be soon-

It’s the end of the day when Geto and Gojo come back to see Kitty. They arrive at the high end apartment complex and start making their way up to the top. It’s paid for by Gojo who has the most money amongst the two of them, but Geto pitches in with the bills every now and then and food stock when they want to stay here instead.

It wasn’t often that they’d use Gojos apartment, but it was nice for some privacy every now and then. True privacy. It was also good during their vacation times. It’s especially come in handy now that they have a cute little kitty to look after. 

They only keep things stocked really for them since Kitty doesn't need to eat any human food, but every now and then she gets curious about the snacks they eat. Being able to smell the scent of the chicken broth, or Gojo’s sweets looking particularly alluring with bright colors and fluffy insides. 

So they’d feed her every now and then while she has fun enjoying the new tastes and textures in her mouth. Besides, they have fun too, pulling her into their laps and squeezing her hips and flesh while she nibbles on the soft sweets in their hands and licks the remaining scraps off of their fingers. 

When they get to the door Gojo begins unlocking it and they make their way inside. Runes decorate the door on the inside, as well as every window in the apartment. Just a precaution they’re taking to ensure she doesn't accidentally escape, to keep her contained.

Gojo lets his bag slump to the floor while he stretches obnoxiously, looking forward to the entire week off they have with Kitty. Geto trails in behind him and actually hangs his bag up, closing the door behind him he calls out, “Kitty cat, where are you?” 

A shuffle and thump could be heard down the hallway before the pitter patter of bare feet on the floor could be heard coming towards them. When Kitty rounds the corner she practically pounces on the first person she can see.

Her hands immediately gravitate towards Getos trousers, where she tries tugging and pulling on them in an attempt to get to what's inside. 

A startled sound escapes Geto as he instinctively grabs onto her wrists and pulls her hands away from his dick. Now holding her squirming arms in the air his brows furrow as he looks to Gojo. 

“Don’t look at me!” he says, holding his own hands up in the air in a mocking act of surrender. He’s leaned up against the back of the couch, one leg hooked over the other as he watches on in amusement from behind his glasses. “What’s got her so riled up?”

Geto huffs and looks back down at the squirming curse in his arms. She’s resorted to crying, large drops of tears trickling down her cheeks and dripping off of her chin. Her bottom lip is wobbling and she's looking up at Geto almost pleadingly. 

The more the two men take in the curse the more they notice and the more curious they get. They notice the light sheen of sweat glistening on her skin, the way her thighs try and rub themselves together and the sticky wet sounds they make when they do. 

Geto seems to clock it a second before Gojo does. Cooing down at the Kitty caught in his arms he practically purrs, “Awh, such a good kitty, were you trying to ask for my cock? Is that it? Need my cock to make yourself feel better?”  

She's blubbering, pretty tears still falling down her cheeks as her hands still try and squirm away from his hold. She seemed to register his words at least somewhat as she looked down to his trousers again before looking back up at him with those begging eyes.

God, he can already feel himself hardening in his boxers. 

“Oh? Kitty is asking to be stuffed, is she? This is a first.” Gojo says, already standing up and making his way to the bedroom. 

Geto follows shortly behind him, lightly dragging Kitty along with him as she fumbles over her steps, his strides being bigger than hers. He hums in response to Gojo. Gently sitting Kitty down onto the ruffled sheets. It's clear she was in them before they got home. 

Gojo grabs onto Kitty and pulls her further up the bed, pushing her onto her front when she tries to grab at his trousers as well. He keeps his hand on her head and pulls her hips up with the other, flipping the loose shirt over her ass and hips to rest on her arched back. 

Her hips wiggle and Gojo groans. He brings one hand up to massage her ass, fondling and gripping the flesh. “She’s dripping Sugu.” He murmurs, voice dropping a few octaves and becoming husky. 

Her tail had been curled around one of her thighs the entire time, some of the fur wet with slick as it uncurled itself and rested against her back, the tip flicking back and forth every now and then.

His hand pushing her head into the sheets briefly massages her scalp when she starts whining, becoming restless. A gentle purr starts up in her chest while her ears flatten against her head but she still continues to squirm. 

“Okay Kitty, don't worry you’ll get your milk soon.” He brings the hand that was groping her flesh to his zipper, pulling down his trousers just past his hips, his boxers following shortly after. He spits in his hand and takes his already hard cock, giving himself a few quick pumps before lining himself up to her pulsing hole and pushing his way in. 

He leans over her, one hand still keeping her head down while the other goes back to gripping onto her hip, no doubt bruising the flesh beneath his fingers. His glasses slide down his nose as he finishes sheathing himself inside of her.

Her little hands are resting either side of her head while gripping the sheets beneath. Her eyes are half lidded and small pants leave her open mouth, leftover tears dribble over her water line and soak into the sheets below her.

Gojo groans squeezing his eyes shut tight while his chest heaves, her tight walls still trying to suck him in further while they pulsate and flutter around his hard cock. 

When his eyes open again he catches Geto’s gaze from where he's standing at the edge of the bed in front of Kitty’s head. “You didn’t waste any time, huh?” he says while raising an eyebrow. 

“I was already hard and besides, she was begging for it.” Gojo responds after catching his breath. 

“You didn’t even prep her.”

“She can take it.” 

“Can she?”

“Are you jealous I got here first Sugu?”

Geto goes quiet for a second at that while they stare each other down. It’s only when Kitty starts trying to move her hips and whine again that he speaks up. “So what if I am?” 

It’s Gojos turn to go quiet for a second until he blurts out, “I’m sure she can take two.”

Geto stares at him in shock as a small smirk graces Gojos face, his glasses slid down far enough that his eyes are exposed. A glint of mischief and lust present in the irises.

Geto sighs before smirking himself, “I guess we’ll find out.” 

Gojo huffs out a laugh before reaching under Kitty and pulling her up with him so they're both kneeling on the sheets. She yelps when he pulls her up, his cock moving inside of her, before leaning against his chest. He rests his head between her fluffy ears while watching Geto climb onto the bed and kneel in front of Kitty. 

Geto unzips his trousers and pulls them just below his hips exactly like Gojo did. The impatience getting to him as he eyes her dripping pussy being stuffed full with Gojos cock. He brings one hand between her legs to swirl loose circles around her engorged clit while he pulls his cock out. 

Kitty squeals and her hips jolt at the sudden contact of his cold fingers to her hot flesh. She begins mewling at the consistent pleasure to her nub while Gojos cock presses against all her sensitive spots from inside. Her ears are pressed flat to her head while she twitches and gasps in his arms. Her hands grasping on tightly to the arm wrapped around her middle holding her up.

“Can feel her squeezing me.” Gojo murmurs into her hair, head tilted slightly so he can watch Getos fingers pleasure the cursed kitty in his arms. 

Geto shuffles forward a bit more so he's pressed against Kittys front, her perky breasts squished between them while he stops circling her clit to rest the hand on her hip. The hand still gripping tight on his cock guids it to her already stuffed hole. 

“It’s going to be a tight fit.” Is all he says before trying to squeeze his way inside the desperate Kitty they caught. 

She wails at the extra intrusion, Gojo trying to calm her down with hushes and coos, using his hands to caress her flesh. When Geto is about half way in he stops for a second to groan and pant, murmuring about how tight she is before pushing the rest of the way in.

Kitty squeals at the feeling, being stuffed full with two cocks overwhelming her senses. She's mewling and blubbering, the pretty tears from before had returned to caress her cheeks. Geto joins Gojo in rubbing and whispering to Kitty, giving her a second to get used to them together. They weren’t that cruel. 

Gojo brings his hands up to fondle and massage her Kitty ears, helping her relax faster as a small purr tries building in her chest, Geto continuing his caresses over her hips, sides of her breasts, shoulders and back. 

It’s Gojo that starts moving first, beginning to thrust in her tight walls the smallest amount. Geto’s breath catches at the feeling before he begins to do the same. 

They’re alternating between thrusts, whenever Gojo pulls out a bit, Geto pushes in. They’ve resorted to resting their hands on parts of her flesh to give them something to hold onto as they pick up the pace. 

Gojo has one hand on her hip and the other arm wrapped around her middle. Geto has one hand on the other hip and the other hand holding the back of her head, pressing her into him more.

The more their pace picks up, the louder Kitty gets, sputtering and gurgling between the two of them, gasping and mewling as well. Her little pussy was stretched to its limit, pulsing and gushing at the unrelenting pleasure. It was getting easier and easier for the two to move inside her from all the slick she was producing.

When they’re finally at a consistent pace they both lean down to whisper and murmur in her ears, barely making out words of, “Such a good girl.”, “Such a pretty little Kitty, taking us so well.”, “Letting us fuck you at the same time, naughty Kitty.”, “ You’re my perfect little curse aren’t you?”, “God, listen to your pussy taking us so well.”

Neverending praises being fed to her while they pounded her with their cocks.

She's almost sobbing by the time they’re about to cum, her chest heaving, cheeks and chest flushed, eyes lidded while the tip of her tongue pokes out of her mouth, droplets of tears still fresh in her eyes.

When the two of them start panting and groaning, their rhythm starts to get sloppy, one of them reaching down with two fingers to rub and flick over the exposed nub. The juices that have dripped onto the sheets below provide more than enough lube to smoothly glide over the flesh. 

They can both feel her tense up around them, an inhuman shriek leaving her as her whole body shakes. Gojo throws his head back and starts fucking into her with a rabid pace, chasing his orgasm with Geto. Her walls suddenly tense up further, almost making it impossible for them to move as her walls pulse and gush fluid, squirting out juices onto both of their cocks and soaking the sheets below them.

Kitty goes limp between the two of them. Holding her up while they finish groaning and moaning, fucking their orgasm up into her.

None of them move or say anything for a few minutes after they finish cumming. Leaning against each other while they try and catch their breath. 

Eventually Gojo pulls out, bringing a whine out of the overstimulated Kitty in his arms. More of her juices, now mixed with their cum, drip from her hole, onto the ruined sheets below and down the length of Getos cock which was still inside of her. 

No one says anything as Geto shuffles the both of them up the bed a little before collapsing onto his back, Kitty tucked into his chest with an arm going around her back and the other burying itself into her hair to massage the base of her ears. 

A few light mewls escape her as another gentle purr begins building up in her chest, content now after being stuffed to the max. 

Gojo comes back a few minutes later, collapsing into a pile on the sheets next to the pair after having run a bath for them all to relax in.

He looks over at the two, making eye contact with Kitty as she gazes at him with half lidded eyes. The small purr audible if you listen in closely. Gojo reaches over with one hand to caress her cheek. Dancing the tips of his fingers under her eyes and down the sides of her face. 

“We really picked a cutie, didn't we Sugu?” Gojo murmurs. 

Geto hums in response, voice husky, “Never letting her go.”

Gojo huffs a laugh as he brings his hand back to join the other tucked behind his head. “Wouldn't dream of it. Our pretty little curse.” 

[saucyjothoughts]

🌼 i was literally just in your inbox talking about feminized kris but the nacekris got to me. bless you saucy its one of my favorite ships. i realise this is pretty long to drop in your ask box so i apologize if thats bad etiquette - i got carried away

i imagine theyre in the london apartment. kris thinks hes all alone putting his get up on. for all intents and purposes, hes supposed to be. nace just comes home earlier because he realises hes forgotten his metro card.

its a set he found in london, on his way back from his photoshoot with damon. he stopped at the mall just to pick up shampoo, he swears, but on the way to the pharmacy he passes the lingerie store.

he actually gasps seeing it in the window. its extremely pretty. innocent in the dirtiest way possible. pretty and pink, and mostly see through, a little bow with a pearl in the middle of the knot right above where his cock would sit in the panties. the bralette is a bandeau with no sponge padding but still the sort hed shove his pecs into and the way the elastic bands at the top and bottom would crowd them would turn them into small handfuls.

he stares as he passes it and is distracted through his entire pharmacy trip. he picks up the wrong shampoo and realises as hes queuing for the checkout, twice, and almost forgets to pick up the cough drops jure asked for. he tries to pay with the wrong card and lets out a string of colorful slovene as it declines and he has to pick out the correct one. he apologizes to the cashier for the inconveniece as he punches his pin in, and she makes a joke about him being distracted with valentines day coming up. he swears all of his blood leaves his brain and his legs and arms as he blushes scarlet and stutters something like an agreement, which just makes the cashier giggle more.

he does stop for the set. somewhere between the pharmacy and the store something in his brain breaks fundamentally, he guesses, and its like the dial on his self control is a level pushed so hard it cant be unstuck ever again. he walks in and gets help from a sales assistant. he tells her a pretty story about his girl named tina (conveniently leaving out how that comes from kristina), and their planned trip to his hometown for valentines day, and really he just wants to surprise her so bad with the set in the window she saw the other day.

he thinks the lever on his self control mightve unstuck when he gets to checking out, but he spots some almost entirely transparent stockings and it becomes apparent said lever might never become work normally again. but you dont understand, theyre so beautiful, theyd look like theres just a line down the back of his legs. thank fucking god he knows his measurements, he thinks not for the first time. a lifetime of getting pants tailored for his longs legs is good for just the one thing, he guesses.

he tucks the set and the stockings, in their packaging, in the very bottom of his backpack, under everything else and hopes he finds a place in his shared fucking room he can hide it well enough. fuck that broken lever, seriously.

the whole ordeal leaves his heart beating so hard he chainsmokes his last four cigarettes in the bus stop, hoping he gets home at least looking normal.

now, in his room, hes putting on the set, hoping he at least gets to look at himself in the mirror before everyone else comes home if nothing else. he's midway through putting on the bralette, trying to figure out how to do the closing mechanism in the back properly with how wide the bandeau is, when he hears the apartment door open and close.

fuck no shit no fuck fuck fuck fuck. hes trying to be quiet, searching for his pants, pretending to be alseep, hoping whoever entered isnt looking for him or anything in his room.

of course luck isnt on his side. of course he hears, "kris? are you up? i think my metro card fell out of my jeans in there last night."

right, of course, he and nace hung out until late last night in his room, until bojan kicked them both out to facetime jere in peace. he must be quiet for too long, because the door opens before he gets to say just a sec or anything similar and now hes there, lace panties on, pink roses all over his ass and god, the bow too, and hes holding the bralette in his hands and now naces there and hes so fucking mortified and-

"im sorry," nace says too quickly and closes the door, and his blushing face and dilated pupils is burned onto kris's retinas for ever and ever now, he thinks.

he hears the apartment door close and lock and thats that for now. christ on bikes.

sure, hes slept with nace before. hes slept with everyone in the band, and a few people in the crew. several times. but thats different. quickies in venue dressing rooms, and club bathrooms and one memorable time in the tour bus lounge area. thats different.

hes not even in the mood anymore. he changes and tucks the lingerie away and takes a cold shower that takes too long. is there something wrong with him? the store in the mall taught him that his self control is shot when it comes to pretty underwear but now hes really thinking its something else. like, psychologically. he thinks about texting damon to get his ass here, since there is no way in hell hell talk to anyone in the band about it and damon might be his best shot, but then decides to look up therapists near him when words like nymphomania and hypersexuality pass his mind. his questionable health insurance policy leaves him, however, thinking that would be better to consider when he returns to slovenia. he gets in bed despite it being barely late afternoon and tosses about and then sleeps until the next day.

nace doesnt say anything about it, but keeps giving kris these long looks when he thinks he isnt looking, which might be worse.

the situation does resolve itself, in the most satisfying twist of fate, when they end up alone in the house a week or so later.

jan is the last to leave and hes barely out of the door, throwing one last shifty look to kris and nace (because of course hed notice something is up), when nace pins him to the nearest wall in the living room. nace starts kissing and biting at his neck before kris can even gasp, and then starts speaking.

"god, you were so pretty. all lace and blush." and kris is so suprised, nace never initiates this aggressively, which has a thrill going through him at just the thought, and he lets out the most embarassing sound of his fucking life right then.

"cmon, baby," nace continues, and its so uncharacteristic and so rough and so erotic, kris is so hard he becomes light headed. "why dont you go put your pretty clothes on, huh?" kris barely manages to gulp and nod, and then theyre rushing to his room, naces hands all over his back and ass and waist on the way. its clear nace was as affected as kris is and he doesnt know what to do with himself, his brain getting fuzzy from arousal and embarassment.

in his room, he gets out the set nace got a glimpse of and sets about putting it on. he chooses not to examine how satisfying the whole ordeal is, from how the lace is laying against his ass to nace groaning and gripping himself through his pants. the groaning gets loder when he bends over to put on the stockings.

he turns back to face nace when its time for the bralette and puts on his most innocent face. nace, thankfully, gets it, and helps him do the back.

"what a pretty girl you make," he comments off handedly, and something breaks further is kris's brain. oh. nace catches on, of course, and grins in that dangerous way he does. "look at you, dressed up all nice for me. and so shy, never wouldve showed me. do you want to out anything else on? or can i have fun with you now?"

kris has not felt this out of his fucking mind since he got high for the first time, almost a decade prior. he barely gets to squeak out, "shoes. lipstick."

naces eyebrows hit his hairline when he processes what hes hearing and he hums, "where are the shoes, pretty girl? put your makeup on, ill get them," he says, all gently.

"under- in the closet, in the black box, under the jackets." nace kisses his forehead and turns to rifling through the closet.

kris's one and only lipstick, he bought on accident. he bought it in poland at a drug store, thinking it was a balm, which he still half thinks it is, except its extremely pigmented, a nudey pink, but impossible to miss. he puts it on in the full length mirror, which lets him see nace finding the shoes, and whistling when he opens the box.

theyre simple pink pumps he bought second hand weeks ago, which thinking back, is probably when he shouldve realized his self control was shot. he planned to donate them again or throw them away before moving back, depending on how shot they were by that time.

"cmon, sit down, ill help you." and he does. naces hands on his legs feel reverent, and kris feels the band on his panties lift with how turned on he is. nace looks him up and down, and when he finally gets to look at his face, he breathes hard.

kris never gets to walk around in the heels. nace pushes him down on the bed in the next second and kisses him hard, smearing make up all over his face. nace drags down the bralette and tortures his nipples with his teeth and hands until theyre puffy and red and erect. like a girls, kris's brain helpfully supplies.

one hes done with kris's nipples, nace lets his mouth run. he tells kris how pretty and sexy he is, how nice it is of him to surprise nace like this as he pushes the panties to the side, spitting on kris's hole a few times before he pushes a first finger in.

kris cant keep his noises in, moaning and whimpering and gasping. at one point, nace stops fingering him to push the bralette back up over his tits, and the lace rubbing iver his raw nipples almost has kris coming right then.

nace keeps his mouth running as he fucks kris, kris's pumps on his shoulders. its probably the most vocal kris has seen him during sex. moaning and groaning and praising and degrading kris all at one. calling him pretty, and a dirty girl all in one, and calling him perfect fucking slut for me, which shoots kris's brain up into flames.

when kris is close, nace jerks him off through the panties until he comes in them, ruining the lace, and then pulls out to jerk himself off and come over them, too. kris feels so dirty and so hot, and hes so in his head about it he doesnt feel when nace drags the panties down to his knees, and gasps loudly when nace begins licking at his wet cock to clean him up. nace continues long after hes clean, only stopping when kris is too over sensitive to take it anymore.

kris's mind is far away as nace takes off all the pieces of his set, and takes him to the bathroom to wash him off. nace kisses his neck and face and whispers praises as he washes kris's hair and body. he even changes the bed sheets, which kris is extremely thankful for, and puts the lingerie in the bag kris took it out of.

they cuddle for a long time, until kris can vocalize more that hnggggh, "do you figure i could get the panties dry cleaned? so we can mess them up again."

nace laughs with his entire chest, and runs his hair through kris's damp hair, "ill buy you a thousand pairs if you let me mess them up."

NaceKris nation, come get your breakfast!

[starry-teacup]

THE NARRATOR?

STUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING THE NARRATOR GOD DAMN FOOL ANNOYING ORDERS GIVING DUST EATING RAT OLD BASTARD SHITHEAD IDIOT VOICE OF THE WHORE BIGGEST CLOWN IN THE CIRCUS LAUGHED OUT OF TOWN COWBOY MOTHERFUCKING THE NARRATOR. STOP PINNING ME WHEN I TALK ABOUT THE NARRATOR I HATE HIM SO MUCH WHY DOES HE HAVE SO MANY FUCKED UP CABINS WHY DID HE DECIDE TO FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT JUST SET THEM [THE PRINCESSES] LOOSE IS HE DEAD IS HE A BASTARD MAN HAS SUCH A VISCERAL AFFECT ON ME NOT EVEN IN THE ROOM NEVER SEEN THIS MANS FACE AND I KNOW HE HAS THE WORLDS SHITTIEST BEARD GET AWAY FROM ME.

if i wanted to get into heaven and god said the narrator's waiting inside i would piss on gods feet for the sole purpose of getting sent back down. if i have to deal with the narrator speaking one word in person on voice in game not only will i close the window i will load my history out of spite and have to replay the entire game again for the experience of being able to skip all the times when he is mentioned or alive. i dont even know why i hate him so much. he ignores mirrors but i am just mad because i am ANGY. he better have some fucked up backstory to explain this if hes just some rich shithead whos a fan of creepypasta and wanted the irl version ill go ham. BETTER have had a princess make him kill a man cuz if he didnt Im going to make him.

paypal.com/IFuckingHateTheNarrator

chapter's not even about him. vaguely mentioned what is supposed to maybe be his opinion and I lost it. where the fuck is the narrator if hes still alive im going to so deeply wish he wasnt.crusty old man. ill punch narrator and his sad frail old bird twig bones will simply flake apart under my epic huge meat fist and he will disintegrate until all thats left is one final mirror he kept on him at all times simply reflecting Now You Fucked Up in ancient yiddish. im not breathing im hyperventilating at this point. i hope theres a date given for when narrator died or will die so i can make it a reminder on my phone, and everyday once a year i will see it and do anything but pay respects to the man who had so many fucked up if true monarchs

[kitkinnie]

some of my kintype's behaviors for fun!

using my head to let people know i love them (putting my head against their chest or shoulder) -> cat headbonks

stretching (i need to do this more often but i don't currently really have the space.. when i move out i wanna try stretching more frequently) -> moekka and cat behaviors

joking/saying things robotically ("directive fulfilled"/"quest complete" when i finish a task or get something for someone, "nutrients aquired" when i make myself food, etc.) -> alien and robot behavior

big tail lashing when annoyed -> moekka, cat, leviathan, AND dragon behavior! no wagging here

tail tip twitching when excited/happy -> moekka and cat behavior

wing shimmying/ruffling (ambient/idle behavior) -> moekka, bird, and dragon behavior

wiggling fingers/doing "claw hands" (to achieve the feeling of having or unsheathing claws/talons) -> moekka, cat, leviathan, and dragon behavior

involuntary smiling when upset/being prone to hysteria/manic laughter -> im sorry but. chara coded (this is one of the things that made me consider chara as one of my kins since that's a behavior we share)

the entire moekka ear emoting guide i made can go here too. this is what my ears do

fins flaring out when aggressive -> dragon and leviathan behavior

snarling/showing fangs(i dont have actual fangs. tragic) when angry/aggressive -> moekka, dragon, leviathan, cat, werewolf, and cryptid behavior

snorting/exhaling through nose or sighing when angry/annoyed (steam is supposed to come out) -> dragon behavior

bouncing/doing weird little high steppies when excited -> moekka behavior (i don't do this irl much because my leg anatomy is tragically not suited for it but. steppies !)

purring (something i can't do irl, at least not comfortably/real-ly) -> moekka, cat, and dragon behavior

thinking in concepts/pictures rather than words and having to translate my thoughts into cohesive english on the fly -> cryptid/alien/robot behavior, generally giving a "not human" vibe. kind of annoying when im trying to explain myself quickly and concisely tbh

being sooo sleepy all the time (/slight exag but im a pro at napping) -> cat and dragon behavior. these guys love to sleep

avoiding direct sun (i get sooo hot and sweaty in the summer i cannot handle the heat) -> its giving vampire (i get teasingly called one all the time since i always wear black and dont go in the sun. im also super pale) but in reality, its cryptid behavior babey!

squatting on things/perching/sitting up high/not sitting on furniture correctly -> cat/moekka/dragon/bird/cryptid behavior. also the autism . i always wanna be sitting on stuff like a gargoyle

walking on tiptoes -> MOEKKA BEHAVIOR !!! i miss my digitigrade legs so bad

climbing up high (i never learned how to climb things and im not physically strong enough to either... it scares me because i dont have the parts i need to climb properly but) -> dragon/cat/moekka behavior

eating fruit and meat -> moekka, dragon, leviathan, and bird behavior. i like bread and rice n.. carbs. a lot irl but its not a part of many of my kintypes' diet

being in the water in general -> leviathan and dragon kin. i dont actually know how to swim (ashamed) but i know id be so good at it if i had my big tails and dragon wings or leviathan fins to propel me. i need to be zooming . and also be resistant to salt water. i prefer pools

flyingggg -> dragon/moekka/bird (i miss flying so bad. i wanna fly i wanna be in the air and sleep on clouds and zoom right over the water)

collecting things, picking up rocks, not being afraid to handle/deal with bugs -> bird brain . some dragon and leviathan in there too (my biggest collections are plushies, pokemon cards, and keychains/pins, and my mom literally calls me outside the apartment for mantis duty. recently we've been getting praying mantises in the hallway so theres a cup and piece of paper outside that i keep there and use to pick them up and throw them out the window)

that's all i can think of for right now but you guys should totally send me asks about my kintypes .. talking about them (especially the ones that aren't real) helps me connect to them more n also i get to share stuff i made up like for leviathans and moekkas :]

[alienaiver]

hi ! can you do 28 with ushijima please ?

i certainly can! i admit, i love ushijima but i always struggle in writing him a bit - theres some vagueness for me to how his behavior in a romantic setting would be, so i just hope this is still within a range you enjoy!! 🥹🧡 (ALSO i have a confession to make... i counted wrong when i went looking for 28 but i didnt realize until AFTER id written this 🤡)

so the prompt was: "you don't have to hide your tears from me" and it's 1k words long! 🥰🧡

there're no warnings, it's fluffy! (tho reader is a little sad - for reasons i left entirely unspecified 🧡)

Ushijima bends down to pick up his runners from the bottom shelf of your shoe rack. It's his old pair -- they're still very usable, but he didn't want to buy two new pairs he'd have to break in at the same time and since he needed a pair for your apartment as well, he'd just brought the old ones here. It's barely past 6AM on a sunday, but he plans to take the longer route today, seeing as it is his day off. When he comes back, he's planning to prepare his protein pancakes for you, just to prove that they are able to taste sweet and good even if they're made with protein powder.

Plus, you're always complaining you're not strong enough to carry something whenever you're together. He doesn't mind carrying it for you, loves doing so, if he's being honest, but when it seems to be such a repeated issue, he decided he might help you in any way he's able (oh, how he's misunderstanding).

His run is refreshing. He mapped out a route in your area the first time he slept over. Both a long one for his days off and a shorter one before he has to go to the stadium. He passes by the bakery in a breeze and doesn't even notice his coach, Suzaku, in the window, eating a pastry - or the way that he guiltily chokes on a bite when he spots Ushijima.

By a traffic light, he reaches for his waterbottle in the small utilitybelt you'd given him for christmas. A small bottle made with the belt makes him able to bring water with him without holding it in his grasp. When you'd prompted him about why he didn't bring water on his runs, he had to admit that he subconsciously squeezed the bottles so hard they broke and that it wasn't practical.

He loves the way you listen to him, make mental notes of the small things and laugh at his jokes (not even Tendou laughed much at the same jokes back in high school, informed him that they hardly qualified as jokes). The added bonus of your gorgeous smile and beautiful laugh makes his heart squeeze too. Your jokes are infinitely better than his though, and nothing brings him greater joy than to sit you on the kitchen counter as he does the dishes next to you as you tell him about your day or recent work drama.

When he returns, he only mumbles out a small "I'm back" more from habit than to actually announce his arrival to you. He takes out his AirPods as he toes off his shoes, breaths still coming in puffs.

He hears your voice in hushed tones, but he can't discern the words from here, so he calls out to you as he walks towards your bedroom.

"Y-yeah, I'll say hi from you. He's here now."

You're still in bed, back turned to him and your phone by your ear as you end the call you were in. He wants to butt in and tell you to continue talking and that he'll just make breakfast but there's a tilt to your voice that he doesn't recognize. His stomach twists as he stands in the doorway, waiting.

You hang up and put your phone down. For a few beats all is silent before you inhale a sharp and deep breath, straightening your spine.

"Welcome back, 'Toshi!"

It seems you're willing your voice back to a familiar tone and rythm, but Ushijima's gut is telling him that it's a facade. He doesn't like that.

You throw the blanket away from you and sit up and Ushijima moves to your side of the bed, sitting next to you, all close and personal and so, so sudden.

You're not prepared for that action, so you hadn't come around to wipe the tears from your face.

You scratch at your eye in an effort to play it off, "Those damn allergies...."

Ushijima's mouth tightens to a thin line but he's not sure what to do, what to say.

You shake your head as you let out a perfomative sigh, clapping your eyes together, "so! What's the plan today?"

"What's wrong?"

You freeze.

You really like Ushijima. He's become a really important person in your life, even if your love is still new and in bloom. It's too early to say you love him out loud and it's definitely too early to show him this self-loathing, semi-depressive side of yourself... right?

Gently and very slowly, like he's handling a scared and feral animal, he takes your hand in his. It's not until he coos at you and starts making comforting circles into your wrist that you realize you've started crying again. Shit.

You heave in a breath and strain your eyes to stop the tears, willing them back with every fiber of your being, a tense laugh escaping you followed by a string of apologies.

"You don't have to hide your tears from me."

You look suddenly at him, like a deer caught in the headlights. You then apologize again as you lean your head to his shoulder, "it's just... you're so strong, 'Toshi, I don't want... to accidentally scare you away."

There's silence for a while, Ushijima's gears turning in his head. He's unsure which part of him you refer to as strong, unsure if it's supposed to be such a vague compliment. He then hums as he decides to make one thing clear for you, "it's not weak to cry. I want to be in your life - in every part of it, too. Just like I carry the groceries and the heavy furniture you keep finding off of Marketplace listings, I want to help carry the emotional burden, too."

You huff out a laugh at his jab on your impulse buys. You raise your head to his neck to breathe in his scent. There's still a hint of sweat on him and he definitely smells like he needs a shower, but you smile.

"I love you."

[muted-like-sunset]

Spark| Chapter 7

peeta mellark x fem! reader

masterlist

word count: 7.1k

trigger warnings: nightmares/nighterrors, drowning, implied abuse, cursing, alcohol, food/eating, mild argument, animal death (minor), fire, bears and bear attacks (nongraphic), canon typical violence, weapons (knives, swords, etc.), sort of sexual harassment? (mild), mentions of death.

(mostly) unedited, all mistakes are my own

She thrashes through the night, haunted by a familiar voice. She fights against long fingers grasping clumps of her hair, fighting to reach the surface of their bathtub as hands hold her under, trying to scream for Asher and instead getting lungfuls of water. She wakes with a start, kicking at the blankets wrapped around her until she can free herself. She draws back to the head of the bed until the blankets fall entirely from her body. 

There, she shivers. Her hands press firmly into her eyes willing the feeling of water in her lungs to leave her. She casts a glance to the window in her room, eyes drifting out over the still sleeping city. The sun has just started to rise, casting a warm glow through the streets of the Capitol. She breathes in the sounds of the early morning, the sound of the city sleeping in after last night’s festivities. There is no birdsong, no soft rustle of trees like at home. She longs, for a moment, to hear her parents talking in the other room. To hear Asher pushing his blanket down the scratchy sheets.

She drags herself out of bed, making her way carefully to the bathroom. Hesitating at the shower for a minute, she gathers her thoughts before turning it on. She plunges in quickly, thankful for whatever Capitol technology makes the water warm as soon as she turns it on. Her teeth chatter with the force of her shivering, forcing her face under the spray just to come out gasping and running her hands over her face to orient herself. A quick press of a random option in the selection in her shower has her doused in a sickly sweet, almost fruity scent. The bubbles are a bright pink, brighter than even Effie Trinket’s hair, but she’s thankful for the visual stimuli. Theres nothing like this at home.

She works a bit to find the matching lotion, wondering if it will match its predecessor’s hue. After testing a criminally large collection of lotions, she settles on one that smells the same. This time, its assaulting shade brings a smile to her face. Once she’s moisturized and dried, she makes her way to the closet. Towards the front hangs a full outfit. Her skin prickles, wondering when it had been placed there. A chill runs up her spine as she pulls it from its place, dressing quickly to keep her mind from wandering too much. Tight black pants, a burgundy top with long sleeves, and plain black shoes. She stares at herself in the mirror for a second, studying her body. For the first time since leaving Twelve, she looks somewhat like herself. Her face is clear of makeup, clothing plain enough. She tilts her head, imagining a few snags in the clothing, more tearing on the arms and around the hem. 

Her eyes prick and she takes a deep breath, eyes darting from her reflection. She isn’t home, she might never be home again. If she wants to go home she needs to focus on getting through the next few weeks, not moping over whats passed. Instead, she rolls her shoulders back, casting a quick glance to make sure her face is steeled back in a calm manner. Then, she remembers the pin. Where had she left it?

She trails back in her mind, picturing all of the clothing she’d worn since the reaping and realizing when it had gotten lost. The last time she’d seen it was yesterday morning, before the tribute parade. Perhaps Cinna still had it. 

Its early enough that no one has come to collect her, so she waders aimlessly out into the main room of the apartment. By a long table in the dining room, a man with dark hair and an all white outfit stands silently. Another avox. Where has the girl from last night gone? 

The table is covered in food of all kinds, so she takes a plate from one end and piles it high with a little it of everything she can fit. Eggs, sausage, hotcakes, and pretty purple fruit make their way onto the plate. She finds a jar of honey and drizzles it on top of the hotcakes, smiling. This is a familiar treat. She settles at the table with her plate and a glass of orange juice, tucking in to her meal. The purple fruit turns out to be some kind of melon, the juice of it pooling on her plate. She returns to the table and fills a plate with rolls and some fruit spread that smells strongly like oranges. 

She moves to the window, setting her plate on the ground and picking a roll to pull apart in her hands. There, she watches the city streets slowly begin to come to life. She thinks of her parents getting ready for work, of Mama combing her Papa’s hear with a practiced hand. She wonders how the morning is in Twelve. If the streets are foggy yet or if the morning is dry. Katniss and Gale will already be in the woods, working to feed more than just their own families. She hopes Asher has started to go with them, that he isn’t moping alone at home. Knowing him though, the call of the mines has gotten more of his attention than she would like. The mines offer somewhat security where the woods rely on his skills. She knows that the mines are what he would choose, but she holds out hope that her friends can bring him along anyway. If for nothing else than a place to release his frustrations.

He and Gale might just be a match.

Had they seen them last night? How did they feel about their debut, had it given them hope that she could make it home? She hopes they’d slept a little sounder, that she’d looked confident enough to ease their worries for the night. 

Haymitch and Peeta come into the room together, she wonders briefly if she has woken them. 

“Comfy?” Haymitch asks, his face pulled down with sleep. She smiles sheepishly, pulling herself out of her seat. She collects her plate and joins them at the table, tucking herself towards the end and across from Peeta. He’s wearing an identical burgundy top with loose black pants. She tugs the fabric against her thighs and wishes hers were loose as well.

She’s anxious to start training. They’ll  have three days to practice their skills before showing them off to the gamemakers. Three days is not nearly the time she’ll need to hone her skills, but she’ll have to make it work. There will be other tributes, like Marvel, who have spent their lives preparing for this moment. She can’t be caught unprepared. 

The table is quiet as Haymitch and Peeta eat, she’s lost her appetite. After a while, Haymitch pushes back from the table with a small sigh, pulling a flask from his pocket and taking a swig. Leaning heavily against the table as though already drained by the day, he speaks. “So, training. If you’d like, I can coach you both separately. It’s up to you.”

She furrows her brow, glancing to Peeta to find much the same confusion. She leans forward. “Why would we ask to be coached separately?”

Haymitch smiles a teasing smile, looking up at her from where he rests his chin on his hands. His smile drops as soon as he finishes speaking, settling back into a slight grimace. “You can’t hold hands through the arena. Say you have a skill that Peeta doesn’t know about. You might be able to use it to your advantage.”

A skill Peeta doesn’t know about? To her, she has no unknown skills. Everything she’s learned is seen by the population of Twelve every day. She glances over to Peeta, watching for his reaction. He shakes his head so subtly she wonders if he even meant to, his eyes moving to find hers. “No, nothing. I’ve eaten enough to know yours, too, I think.”

She’d considered that he’d know about her hunting. Everyone in Twelve did, most likely. Still, its kind of nice to know that he’d reliably eaten something she provided. It makes her face heat a bit. She nods to Haymitch. “We’ll train together.”

“Alright,” Haymitch leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “What can you do?”

“Nothing, unless you count baking bread.” Peeta says dryly, she smiles. It’s harrowing to think it might be his only skill, but she knows that isn’t true. He’s strong, she’s seen it herself. She shakes her head, smiling at him like this is their own little joke. 

“I don’t.” Haymitch says, turning to look at her. “I know you can use a knife, got anything else?” 

She considers this, turning her days in the woods over in her head with a keen eye. She can use a bow, just not as well as Katniss or Gale, and she sets the groups traps, a skill also dwarfed in comparison to Gale. “I’m okay with a knife, that’s sort of it.”

Peeta scoffs a laugh, sitting forwards and shaking his head. He speaks to Haymitch, but his eyes are on her. “She’s better than okay, she’s excellent. She sets traps,” He looks to Haymitch, flexing his hands almost like he could feel the wire between is fingers. “My father buys her squirrels, sometimes rabbits. He says the way they’re caught must be quick, its so clean they barely have time to struggle.”

“If we’re correcting one another,” She begins, crossing her arms. “Peeta’s strong. I’ve seen him lift hundred pound bags of flour in the market, carries them two at a time if not more. Tell him that, it’s not nothing.”

“It’s not the same.” Peeta shoots back, his blue eyes locked onto her. It’s intense, she has to steel herself from looking away. “Lifting flour isn’t the same as using a weapon, you know that. Besides, I’m sure every tribute in the arena will just stand still for me to, what, carry them?” He laughs bitterly, shaking his head. She looks away from him, face flushing. 

“He’s a wrestler.” She tells Haymitch. “He always wins unless he’s pitted against his brother, but even then its close. There’s always hand-to-hand in the arena, he’s making himself sound worse than he is.”

“Well, so are you. I’m not going to wrestle anyone to death in the arena. You’ll be off in a tree somewhere picking the rest of us off with traps.” He almost spits, moved to anger. She can see the way his hands tighten around nothing, curling themselves into fists before relaxing and splaying out large. 

“It won’t matter if I can’t get any sponsors.” She mumbles, pushing her plate away from herself and slumping down in her seat, arms crossed in front of herself. “You do that kind of stuff naturally, I have to actually try to make people like me. People are going to fall all over themselves trying to sponsor you.”

He scoffs, but she doesn’t turn to look at him, too busy fighting off defeated tears. “She has no idea, the effect she can have.” He says quietly, like she might not hear him. 

The effect she can have, what does he mean? That people will pity her, or that they’d have some reason not to? She forces herself to think. Surely, she has something to gain sponsors attention. She wipes at her face with the back of her hand, listening as Haymitch and Peeta shift. 

“Well then, you two make a good show, don’t you?” Haymitch says, smirking. “We’ll work with that. Y/N, theres no guarantee you’ll have any supplies to set any snares in the arena, make sure you save that for your private session. Show them what you can do, it’d make an interesting games. Until then, steer clear of any trapping, do you hear?” 

She nods, not meeting his eyes. 

“Peeta,” Haymitch begins again. “She’s right. Don’t underestimate physical strength in the arena, it tilts the advantage to you in a confrontation. They’ll have weights in the training center, you can use them, just don’t go all out. The plan for both of you is to learn things you might not already know. Throw a spear, swing a mace, learn to tie knots. Save your skills for your private showings, are we clear?”

They both nod, she doesn’t have to look to know it. Haymitch leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. 

“In public, you two stay by each other’s side every minute. You’ll figure it out, you always seem to.” This peaks her attention, sitting up and meeting his eyes. Seam gray, like everyone she grew up with. “Now go on, meet Effie at the elevator at ten to head down.”

She pushes back from the table, making a quick exit back to her room. His footsteps follow her down the hall and she pauses inside of her door, listening intently for him to show up to talk. It wasn’t so much a fight as it felt to her, but she’d still like to see him. Her shame cements her feet to the floor, listening instead for some sign he wants to talk. His footsteps pause just in front of her door, only for a moment, and her breath hitches. Then, she hears him continue, his door opening and shutting quietly. 

She freezes for a long while, waiting at the door for him even though he isn’t coming. She shakes herself from her stupor, moving instead to her bathroom to get ready. She brushes through her hair, securing it the same way she always does before brushing her teeth. It’s almost ten, so she slips back into the hall to meet Effie and Peeta at the elevator. 

Peeta’s already there when she gets there, talking quietly with Effie. She dips her head, following them into the elevator. Her nerves, temporarily stayed by a flash of anger at him at breakfast, return in full force at the idea of meeting the other tributes. Marvel will be there, and his district partner. The tall one with golden hair. She wonders if she might be spiteful of the attention her district partner is paying her.

“Hey,” Peeta whispers, bumping her gently with his arm. “You okay?”

If Peeta made friends with her, would she be angry? She tries to imagine her laughing at something he said, smoothing over her golden hair with an elegant hand, giving him a bold and flirty smile. Her stomach knots, would she be angry?

She nods, letting him stay close “Nervous.” She admits with a watery smile, looking to meet his eyes. The ride is quick, probably less than a minute before they’re coming to a stop. The doors open to a large gymnasium, and despite it not being ten yet it seems they are the last to arrive. She rolls her shoulders back, holding her head high as they enter. She lets herself study the other tributes, they’re all dressed athletically. Still, she and Peeta are the only pair that are dressed alike. 

Her eyes find Marvel already looking at her, a grin on his face. The blonde girl is near him, glaring daggers at her. She fights the urge to tuck herself close to Peeta, to seek his protection from the girl. She’ll be on her own if this girl decides to take it out on her, she won’t always have Peeta at her side in the arena. 

She and Peeta join the others in their tense circle, standing still as someone pins a cloth square with a 12 to the back of their shirts. A tall woman stands in the center of the circle with a name tag that says ‘Atala’, she begins to explain the training center. The rules go in one of her ears and out of the other, thankful that Peeta seems to be listening attentively enough for the both of them. She lets herself study the tributes she hasn’t seen closely before, trying to make herself useful.

Almost all of the male tributes are larger than her, and even some of the girls seem to dwarf her. Marvel’s district partner is one of them, tall and athletic looking up close. Her hair is pulled back into a braid that runs down her back and her eyes are trained on Y/N. She looks away, the other girls seem more manageable. Though, even the smaller one from District One looks frightening. The other tributes not from career districts look more like herself. It’s easy to tell that many of them come from backgrounds like her own, if the hollowness of their cheeks and eyes is anything to go by. 

Soon, the group splits. She feels Peeta’s hand move to take her own, trailing down her arm before locking their hands together and tugging her alongside himself. She tries to shake off her thoughts, following closely behind even as she feels eyes on them. Was this what Haymitch meant as “in public”? 

“So, what do we do first?” Peeta asks quietly, leaning down to talk almost into her ear. She bounces on the balls of her feet for a moment, looking around. The eyes of the other tributes flutter away as she surveys the room, all but Marvel’s. He holds her gaze until she looks away, looking instead to find an empty station. 

“Feel like trying firestarting?” She asks, pulling him beside herself as she moves towards the station. They detach as they come up on the station, straightening themselves to begin training. She wipes the sweat from her hands.

 Fire, as she has always been taught, is dangerous. One stray spark could bring down almost all of Twelve, so their fire had always been her Papa’s job. After the accident, that fell to Asher. 

Still, she had built up kindling before. In her house, Papa had always scraped the coal dust off of every surface. The bottoms of their shoes were often caked in it in the right weather conditions. After collecting it, he pressed it into small discs to use as an accelerant. 

She takes the lead, curious to try her own hand at what she’d seen done endless times. First, she tries with dry materials - grasses, ark, and leaves - and finds easy success. She flinches back each time the spark takes and bursts into flame, but quickly becomes accustomed to the flash of heat. The way it flickers mesmerizes her, she almost feels remorse when it dies out. Her next tries are in a damper environment. The woman running the station gives her pointers and she sets quickly to scouring the materials laid before her. Some are meant to make it easier, like puffs of cotton o a tarp, but she’s intent on learning. 

She’d seen Katniss do a trick a couple of times when they’d been caught in weather they shouldn’t have, one that required a specific type of wood. 

“These trees,” She begins looking over to see how Peeta is doing. He’s more focused on her than his fire, eyes darting up when he should be working on getting his flint to spark. “Can we use them? For the fires, I mean.” She asks. When the trainer nods, she slips into the fake woods created in the station. There are only a couple of trees, likely not even planted and instead just propped up below the damp soil. 

What had she said? Y/N stoops low beneath a pine, pinching a fistful of dry needles from underneath. She moves back to her materials, taking the training knife and moving back to the tree. She scrapes off some bark, happy with the sticky feeling of the sap against her fingers. Yes, this will spark. She brings her spoils back to Peeta with a smile, offering the small chunk of wood and bark in her hands. 

“Here,” She begins, settling down beside him to show him what she hopes will work. “See how its sticky? It’s pine, the sap is flammable.” The moment she’s gotten the wood into his small attempt at a fire, she holds a hand out for his flint. He passes it over wordlessly and she strikes it. It only takes one, the moment the spark touches the sap it bursts into a small flame, quickly taking over his pile of tinder and sticks. 

They work together for the rest of the hour before Peeta suggests that they move on to another skill. They move down the line, stopping at the camouflage station, which makes Peet light up. She focuses on trying to mix colors to match the ones Peeta creates easily from mud or berries or clay. Meanwhile, he easily creates a scene on his own skin. She looks up from his arm as he steps away, backing himself against a mossy rock and checking his work. His arm practically disappears when he holds still and she can’t help the gasp that leaves her. “Peeta, that’s amazing.”

“I used to do the cakes at the bakery.” He flushes, looking to her with his chin down. The cakes he’s referring to are up in the window of the bakery, decorated in flowers and other pretty things painted in frosting. She had been by with Primrose many times, both enraptured by the sight of anything pretty. 

This is how they pass the time until lunch. When time is called, they stand from their station (knots, much to Peeta’s dismay) and move to join the other tributes. They follow behind as the tributes are guided to a room off of the gym where the walls are lined with carts filled with food. She and Peeta find a cart that isn’t surrounded and pile their plates with a meat that reminds her of grouse or chicken, green beans, butter beans, and bread. She can’t help but grin when they come across a dish of small potatoes and piles some onto her plate before helping Peeta add them to his own. They find an empty table, sitting across from one another. Conversation should come easily, they certainly have plenty to talk about, but their conversation this morning with Haymitch makes any words that might come out stop, sticky in her throat. 

She eats quietly, trying to avoid looking up in case Peeta is looking at her. Its only after she’s finished half of her plate that she sits back, wiping her mouth and looking to him. He’s looking at her, his own plate mostly finished. “Well,” He practically whispers, leaning forwards over the table. “Haymitch will want us to look friendly. Laugh, like I’ve  said something funny.”

She covers her mouth, trying to make her nervous laugh sound more like a friendly one. He smiles at her, leaning back on his seat. “Now, your turn.” He directs quietly, settling his hand on the table, intertwined with one another. On impulse, she reaches across the table to smooth the tenseness from his fingers. 

“Have I told you about the time we got chased by a bear?” She asks softly, still smiling nervously. Where they had melted the callouses from her hands, they left his rough. She runs smooth fingertips over his hands, feeling every crack and ridge, every burn that scarred his pale skin. He shakes his head, turning his hand over and taking hers in his hold. She clears her throat, sitting up a little straighter. 

She tells the story, trying to mimic Asher’s animated storytelling but falling flatter. They’d been young and foolish enough to not back down from a bear that was in a hive. Honey, when they can collect it, is a valuable trade in the Hob. She’d been hoping for a new pair of boots for Asher, who’d outgrown his months before. Normally, black bears are easy enough to scare off if they’re alone. The issue is, bears can be hard to identify. Black bears aren’t just black, and grizzlies come in all shades. This particular grizzly seemed small, with a coat so dark it had looked black. That was, until it turned and the sun caught it’s coat differently. She’d been the one to spot the color, taking several steps back and throwing her arm out to her friends. It stood on its hind legs, threatening a bear often makes them show their true size, and it had been large. She’d cursed herself for not paying closer attention to the rounded shape of its ears, or the large hump of its shoulders. They’d had to climb high to avoid it, the bear too heavy to get to the branches they could at their size. 

Peeta, better at this whole thing than she is, laughs and prompts her for more information at just the right times. ‘Wait, they’re not just brown? No, they come in lots of colors. That’s terrifying, how big was it? Maybe six and a half, seven feet.’ They laugh at her misfortune, garnering the attention of several other tributes. Facing them, she has a clear view as they turn to see the pair. Peeta notices her looking away, turning over his shoulder only long enough to see the others looking before he turns his gaze back on her. “Hey, why don’t we get some water and see if we can head back in.”

She looks past him again, catching sight of the careers. Some, like Marvel, are already looking. The massive tribute from Two is watching, smirking side by side with his district partner. She meets Marvel’s cool gaze and looks away, nodding. She sticks close to his side as they stand and move away from the table.

They stick by the drinks for the remainder of their hour lunch, only a handful of minutes, talking quietly. This is how their days pass, breakfast with Haymitch and Effie in the apartment, training, lunch, training, dinner in the apartment, bed. Rinse and repeat. 

On the second day of training, they split in the mid morning to practice different skills. She’s no use in weight training, and even though she’s been instructed to avoid her skills, she’s hardly got any skill with a bow and arrow. It doesn’t count, not really. 

She spots Thresh, the massive tribute from Eleven, wielding a knife of some kind in hand to hand training with one of the trainers. His dark skin beaded with sweat as he and the trainer trade mock blows, resetting periodically with a small nod and a tensing of his massive shoulders. She creeps closer, positioning herself just to the side of their session in order to get a closer look. Thresh seems to notice her, finishing out a round with the trainer before backing off, grabbing a hand towel from the trainer’s hand and wiping it down his face before stepping off of the platform. 

“It’s all yours.” He offers, eyes trailing over the room as though to find his next stop. His low register startles her, but only for a moment.

“Oh, no. I just,” she gestures wordlessly to the platform and waiting trainer, eyes locked onto Thresh. “Just wanted to watch. You looked like you knew what you were doing, I guess.”

He eyes her warily, setting the massive blade and his towel down on the nearest table. His voice is honey sweet, a low comforting bass that rumbles low in his chest. “Not my first fight.” 

“Guess you’ve got the advantage.” she smiles, hoping to keep him from running off. She wants him to like her, even just a little bit. Hopefully, that small acquaintance will keep him from killing her. “You’re Thresh, right?” 

He nods, humming.

“Y/N.” She introduces. “What is that?” 

He lifts the blade again, its curved blade glinting in the light of the room as he turns it over in his palms. “This is a hand sickle.” 

He stretches out a hand, offering her the blade. She accepts it, surprised to find it lightweight. “Is this something y’all have in Eleven?” 

“Sort of.” He answers, readjusting her grip on the handle with his own hands. He spins the blade so the interior of the curve faces outward, curving away from her body. “Just smaller, better made.” 

She nods, watching as he chokes her hand up the handle. Once he seems satisfied, he backs away and grabs a matching blade. He swings it a bit, like he’s getting used to it. Then, he swings it in a powerful arch. She watches, mimicking the swing to the best of her ability. 

He laughs a bit and it catches her off guard. For someone so serious, he’s got a wonderfully contagious laugh. She grins at entertaining him, cocking a brow. “Was it that bad?” 

He shakes his head, smiling still. “Not bad, just clumsy. You ever used a blade before?” 

She smirks, sinking her weight onto one hip. “Don’t have much reason, the coal doesn’t bite.” 

He laughs again, tilting his head down and giving a single shake. His shoulders shake with his laughter and her grin grows impossibly larger. 

They settle into a small routine. Thresh shows her a move, she tries to replicate it, he adjusts her, and she tries again. They exchange small conversation. By the time lunch rolls around, they’re joking around regularly. Thresh has settled back into his imposing look, but she keeps smiling. 

She follows behind him as he collects a plate and moves to sit at an empty table. His tiny district partner joins shortly, sitting silently next to him and eating her food. She can’t help but eye her, its startling to see her here. Of course, there have been young tributes in the past, it isn’t even uncommon. Still, seeing her here, in person, is considerably more alarming than it would be to see it on television. 

“What’s your name?” She asks, eyeing the little girl. Her head pops up, chin down and eyes finding Y/N’s gaze shyly. Her dark curls, somewhere between dark brown and black, are pulled back into two small buns at the base of her skull. She looks almost like a lamb with peacefully lowered ears. 

She chews a moment, swallowing her food before she speaks. “Rue.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Rue. I’m Y/N.” Y/N smiles, trying to keep her face calm and happy. Her chest aches with the thought that this would have been Primrose. She wonders for a moment if they’d have gotten along before quickly correcting herself, everyone likes Prim. 

Rue giggles, pulling a roll apart between her finger tips. “I know.”

The older girl laughs, finding talking to the girl easier than she imagined. They pass the first part of lunch easily before she stands, taking her tray in hand. The careers have been staring since yesterday, even now Marvel’s eyes are locked onto her. She can’t hep but be curious, but even so, she won’t attach herself to the tributes from Eleven. She excuses herself, looking for Peeta. He’s sat at a table with a couple of other tributes but none of them seem to be talking. She moves to a mostly empty table, save for the boy from Disrict Three. 

Not wanting to intrude, she sits down the table from him. Its nice, to have a somewhat secluded meal. In the apartment she’s at a packed table, here she can distance herself. It’s not technically being in public, she and Peeta don’t have to always be attached. 

Behind her, someone clears their throat. She suppresses a startled jump, turning over her shoulder to see what the fuss is about. The careers have abandoned their table in favor of hers, but it isn’t her that’s being accosted.

“Move.” The massive tribute from Two commands, setting his tray down firmly on the table. The boy from Three, the real target, gets the message quickly enough. He’s smart to not aggravate such a massive adversary so early, not when theres still so much to get through. She’s starting to collect her things when Marvel sets his tray beside hers, sitting a bit closer than she expected. 

 He’s giving her an odd look, something she can’t quite put a finger on. She hears sound in front of her and turns to see the tributes from Two taking the seats across from her, Marvel’s own district partner hovering behind them venomously. . 

“Got a name, Twelve?” The boy from Two asks, a smirk on his face. She hesitates, wiping her hands down her pants. 

“Its Y/N,” Marvel hisses at him, giving him an agitated look. He looks to her, bumpng her playfully with his shoulder. “Don’t mind Cato, the muscles dont let all of the blood reach his brain.” 

Across the table, Cato huffs. She knows better than to laugh, instead looking to the two girls for a reaction. Cato’s district partner is tense but smiling, Marvel’s seems absolutely tickled at his jab tough her eyes remain hard on her. Cato laughs at this, glancing back and forth between the two. Giving in to the curiosity, she looks between the careers before settling to ask Marvel. 

“Okay, what’s this?” She asks harshly, causing silence among the group. Cato laughs lowly, mumbling. 

“Ooh, kitty’s got claws!” He laughs, leaning over to his partner. Y/N gives him a look before she can think better of it and the girl from One bristles behind them. 

“We just think you’re interesting, Y/N.” Marvel almost purrs, leaning in closer to her. She chances a look away from the group, eyes searching for Peeta. He stands across the room, speaking quietly to Rue. He’s showing her something, but Y/N can’t see it. 

“Aw, no need to call in your bodyguard.” The girl from One whines, leaning against Cato’s massive shoulder as though bored. “We just want to talk.” 

“He’s not my bodyguard.” She says flatly. Theres no need to drag Peeta into this, not when she isn’t sure what they want. Leaning forward on the table, she looks into Cato’s eyes. “What did you want to talk about?” 

“Well,” he murmurs, leaning towards her with a smirk. “we were wondering if you wanted someone to have your back in there.” Her eyes move to study each career, looking for some hint of their plans for her. Cato is smirking, oozing arrogance, and she knows that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. None of the careers would, but after seeing Cato train she feels especially in danger around him. His partner as well, even though she looks completely bored. She’s seen her throw her knives, she’s not one to be messed with. Marvel’s partner glares at her, obviously upset at the idea of her entering the group. 

She leans back a bit, brows furrowing as she takes in the situation. “You want me to join you?”

Marvel laughs quietly, the sound makes her hair stand on end. A shiver runs up her spine and she fights down the blush at his proximity, clearing her throat. He reaches over to her, patting her thigh with a grin. “We do.”

She jumps at the contact, pulling her leg tighter to her body as the careers laugh. She splutters a bit, her words caught in her mouth as she scrambles to get them out. “I don’t understand. I’m not-“ She trails off, gesticulating nervously with her hands.

Cato shakes his head, his smile dropping. He leans back in his seat, framed on either side by the girls, and crosses heavy arms over his chest. It makes him look all the broader. “Doesn’t matter. If people like you, they like you.”

“If you want to join us, hang around.” The smaller girl says, her dark hair shiny under the lights. “We’ll know if you fit after the interviews, then we’ll send word to your mentor.” 

She studies them, but finding any tell that they’re lying or baiting her would require her to know more about them. Perhaps the way the blonde twirls her hair around her finger is a nervous habit, or maybe Cato only seems dry and stoic because he’s hiding something. 

Then again, perhaps that's nothing. Sighing, she nods. After all, what is there to lose? With Peeta’s strength, they’ll be an easy choice for careers. “Alright, I’ll let Peeta know.” 

“No.” Marvel interjects, quick to reach a hand out for her arm. His hold is gentler this time, but still a bit too tight. “We just want you.” 

—

The third day, part way through lunch, is when the private sessions begin. She’d spent the remainder of yesterday and the entirety of the morning following behind the careers as they moved stations. They focused heavily on showing off their skills. Clove, the girl from Two, was a master with knives. Cato favored a sword, Marvel was good with a spear. Glimmer, Marvel’s district partner, was decent with a bow.

Glimmer was something to see, she could see her succeeding in the games. Long, lean, and muscled, Glimmer looked like something off of a Capitol magazine. What she lacked in skills she made up for with her beauty and silver tongue. More than once, Cato had fetched her weapon from the rack or gotten up to get her something she asked for. All it took from her was a smile and the touch of her hand. Clove seemed upset about it, but even she said nothing. 

Glimmer is the second person to be called for her private session, right after Marvel. As the female tribute for Twelve, Y/N has a long wait. At first the room seems to buzz with conversations, though all talking ceases the moment Cato leaves for his session. Clove has no interest in talking to her and, knowing she isn’t wanted, she stands and moves to find Peeta instead. 

They sit in a tense silence as the other tributes are called and exit, waiting for their own names. When Thresh is called, Rue moves to sit closer to them. She talks quietly with Peeta, sparing Y/N glances every now and again though she doesn’t speak. When Rue is called, they’re left alone. The silence returns until Peeta is called. He sighs, standing and heading towards the door. 

“Peeta,” She calls, startled by her own voice. He turns easily, brows raised as he waits for her to speak. “Just, remember what Haymitch said. Be sure to remember the weights.”

He nods, giving her a small smile. Her tense shoulders relax a bit as she prepares herself to be alone in the room. Continuing towards the door, Peeta calls back to her. His voice echos in the quiet room. “Thanks. Good luck, Y/N.”

She nods back. If she can’t win, she wants Peeta to. Its better for her family,for their district. If Twelve has a victor they’ll be given food for an entire year, which in turn gives next year’s tributes a better shot. For career districts, maybe this doesn’t matter. 

When her name is called after what feels like an eternity, she stans and moves to the door. On the other side, the gamemakers sit up in their viewpoint, looking down on the training room floor. She moves to stand in front of them. Many seem to have enjoyed too much wine, talking and laughing loudly to one another as she approaches. They’ve been through twelve districts, plenty of time to finish at least a bottle a piece. 

Still, there is nothing to do but enact Haymitch’s plan. Of her skills, only two could be worth showing. There is nothing to snare here but herself, or perhaps a training dummy if she could lug it across the floor. Off to the side, there is a rack of bows. Theyre made of a variety of materials and sit by matching quiversof arrows. She plucks a silver one from the rack, shouldering the quiver and taking a stance before the gamemakers. There are basic targets down range from the rack, but across the gym are move lifelike dummies, like the ones Clove used during training. They’re farther, but she’s shot smaller game at a greater distance. 

The moment she pulls back the string she knows something is amiss. Unlike her bow back home, this one feels tight. She takes aim nonetheless, trying to avoid psyching herself out and insead taking a steadying breath in. Breathe, aim, let loose.

The arrow misses the dummy by several inches and she knows that she’s lost any attention they may have been paying her. She glances up, only managing to confirm her fears.

Instead of looking at her, all eyes are turned on a table behind them. A large pig has made an appearance, skin perfectly roasted a golden brown color. She forces herself to take a deep breath, turning back to her target. She nocks another arrow, steadying herself and adjusting her aim for this bow. When the arrow flies, its immediately clear to her that it’ll land. It sinks deep into the dummy’s head, nocking it’s head back in a graphically intense manner. The arrow sinks deep, surely protruding from the other side of it’s head. Right between the eyes, she smiles proudly. She turns back, excited to see the gamemakers reactions. 

Still, the gamemakers are absorbed in their meal. They’re laughing, clapping one another on the back with huge smiles. 

Frustrated and bordering on furious, she rips an arrow from her quiver, nocking it and pulling the bowstring taut. In the roast pig’s mouth rests a perfect red apple. She takes aim and lets go. 

The arrow strikes the apple, flying a few feet further before pinning it to the wall. The gamemakers turn, and her stomach leaps into her throat. Why had she done that? She had never been an incredible shot, she’s lucky no one is horrifically injured or dead. Still, she curtsies low to them, hanging on to her confident air. “Thank you for your time.” 

She rights herself, forcing her muscles to move slowly, to not shake. The bow is set back in its place. Her feet carry her quickly to the door to the elevator, slamming her hand onto the button to her floor without waiting for dismissal. Some mix of horror at herself and the motion of the elevator makes her stomach sink to her feet and the rise quickly into her throat. Why, why shoot an arrow at the people solely capable of making the next few weeks of her life hell? It was that pig, that damned pig. She’s facing her final days and they hadn’t even had the decency to pay attention to her.

More than that, it was her own temper. For the second time in the last week, she’d signed her own death certificate. She sinks against the back wall of the elevator, imagining the glass breaking and her plummeting to a quick death at the bottom of the elevator shaft.

[duisarcusxiv]

my assorted vaguely specbio themed headcanons for ffxiv:

mixed race kids are vanishingly rare because of biological incompatibility. different races have different gestational periods and, in the case of au ra, a wholly different reproduction than anyone else.

re: above, i hc au ra reproduce in a vaguely seahorse manner. male au ra fertilize fem au ra, fem au ra then have a small window of time to pass the fetus/egg/whatever to a male au ra or her body reabsorbed it. as a result theres really no such thing as an oopsie au ra pregnancy. theoretically, if a non-au ra man was able to fertilize a fem au ra, she could then pass the pregnancy to a male au ra willing to surrogate for them and have a half au ra baby that way, but that's assuming a non-au ra man COULD make a viable fetus to begin with

somewhat similarly, fem miqo'te really only ovulate when stimulated by the pseudo barbs on a male miqo'te's penis, which means it's nearly impossible for a fem miqo'te to get pregnant by anyone else. thats why so many of the ~courtesans~ you see are miqo'te

hyur and elezen pregnancies last 9 months, which is why theyre fairly compatible. miqo'te pregnancies last 6, so they often can't carry a non-miqo'te baby to term. viera pregnancies last 12 months, and their bodies usually fully reject a non-viera fetus as a result. They also have an extremely low rate of conception to begin with.

gender relatedly, au ra would have zero concept of binary genders. they dont actually have men and women, just the ones who carry the baby and the ones that dont. your pronouns, gender identity, etc are all completely unrelated and fully up to you

viera also have a very different idea of gender - they go based on what you do. if you want to have, do have, or want to raise babies, you're a Village Viera. pronouns & such are entirely unrelated. if you cannot or don't want to have or raise babies, you can be a Wood Warder. pronouns and presentation are your own business. Plenty of viera have "mismatched" secondary sex characteristics (warders with breasts, village viera with facial hair, etc) in part because of how sexually non-dimorphic they are. canonically you literally can't tell them apart until they've reached puberty.

[awalkingballofanxiety]

What really happened to N, V, and J.

In ep 5, the memories we see aren't what really happened. As pointed out by @projectanomaly when talking about their friends opinion on the episode, they are not only altered by Uzi's presence but also altered by the drone's own minds to make them seem less traumatic. We can't really 100% know what happened their, the memories lose most validity after Uzi gets N off of the tree. Even though the events shown aren't actually what happened, they still had to lead to the same couple canon events. I know that spiderverse has made that phrasing a little less viable, but I couldn't think of any other way to describe them shortly. No matter what, the memory would end with V and N in the basement. No matter what, the memory would have J being forced to attack the humans she served and her best friend Tessa. (I think that we get Tessa and J's pov sometimes because Tessa showed J her memories, otherwise it wouldn't make sense for us to be able to see them if the episode is entirely just Uzi hacking into N and V's memories.) But, almost nothing was altered in memory wise when the solver came to Tessa while she was chained in her room. It came from outside the building, where N would have been, and then leaves by going back out the window. I think that after that interaction, in the true version, the solver takes N and brings him to the basement. V doesn't leave the area, so she's brought down there with him and that one fight never happens. There, N is dismantled and reassembled as something else or killed. I saw an interesting idea that they were both tortured down there, with V being killed in front of N and that being the reason she gains lucidity before he does. Anyways, the memory file ends there as the whole simulation falls apart. But the solver had been deleting the memories for a while, so what if theres more. before the episode, V seemed to know the most and N the least, but the whole episode is from N's perspective. What if the solver was deleting the memories only as they actually resurfaced to the drones. It would explain why V knows more about Cyn, but none of the episode is from her perspective, because more of her memories were deleted. It would also explain why N has more of the memory remaining and the majority of the episode following him and Uzi. If the thing I put above about J and Tessa is right, we don't know how much J remembered as a DD, so we don't know how much would be deleted if this were true. Anyways, this would mean that it is entirely possible that N, V, and J's trauma didn't end there with the solver forcing them to not only kill everyone at the gala, but everyone surrounding the mansion. Tessa is the only person who knows exactly what happened there, whether she's human or solver hologram.

[latenightgasstationwalk]

Staving off a tide of violent urges as I process the various horrors I saw today. This job is becoming actually bad for my brain. Today I went to an apartment complex that I’ve already bitched about a few times, but today was my breaking point lol I was lead into the apartment by this Maintainance man, who promptly took off the second he knocked on the tenants door, they came to the door abs I couldn’t even process what I was seeing when the door swung open. One bedroom apartment, 5 people on the floor wrapped up in blankets and literal crack smoke in the air. A windowsill is stacked high with picked clean chicken bones? Roaches everywhere. as soon as I walked in one of the people in the apartment went up to this girl who was completely still on the couch and started violent shaking her screaming “WAKE UP HEY WAKE UP THERES PEOPLE HERE” and she was 110% unresponsive. The windows had been broken for about a year and just had a board put over them….on the inside. Here’s a fun fact: When you break a window and board it up from the inside, all of mother natures mighty feats of degradation of man made materials will ruin your sashes and window frame forever! At least that’s what happen when you leave busted windows up for a FUCKING YEAR WITH NOTHIN TO PROTECT THEM BOARDING THEM UP FROM THE INSIDE MAKES 0 SENSE

Just a week before when I went to measure the windows The aforementioned maintenance man insisted I measure these windows from the outside, because he “didn’t wana take thee boards down” so I was like “uh ok” I really didn’t see a problem at the time. So he very clearly didn’t want me to see the inside prior, for obvious reasons, so he had me do it from the outside so I’d show up and be blind sided. That was my working theory when this happened initially. Come to find out, my co-worker / best buddy already went and measured these 7 months ago and told them they were beyond repair and glass replacement wouldn’t even work at this point. So this guy Fucking knew what he was doing the entire time.

So when I got back to the shop and informed my boss of what happened she called and said she didn’t want to put her technicians in any danger so we wouldn’t be returning. This Fucking maintenance man told her that he was in there the whole time. Like I wish I took a picture of this mother fucker when I came outside of that actual nightmare, he was sitting on a picnic table smoking a cigarette, this guy bailed on me as fast as he could and went out for a lil smoke break while I tried by best to avoid any stray needles that may have found their way onto the carpet. Then tells my boss on the phone that he was in there with me lololololol sublime excellent wonderful amazing im this close to turning one of these mother fuckers into an example it’s not even funny.

Either way, my boss said she’s going to try to get permission from the big big bosses (we’re a small company owned by a multi-billion dollar company) and she said even if we do go back in the future we’re going to have ground rules that these maintenance blockheads have to follow the second they don’t were Fucking splitting.

Like I just can’t do this anymore, one of my clients at this job is a housing assistance program that provides housing for addicts and that’s like my main daily thing. And like I’m not looking down on anyone in that kind of position, I have addicts in my life and it’s terrible and sad, but I can’t help but not feel safe. Especially when the extent that the people who are supposed to be coordinating this Shit for me do is call me and warn me about the bad stuff lol I’m not accusing anyone of trying to steal my tools, but I’ve been told probably 10000 Fucking times by the same guy “not to leave any expensive tools around because the people in this unit have already stolen from several contractors” it’s like dude what the Fuck. I make $19 an hour I don’t get paid enough to fight off the most desperate people alive.

And this keeps happening every Fucking day because they’re putting me in charge of all the glazing jobs that the more senior glazer doesn’t want anymore lol so this is just my life for probably the next couple years. Trying not to get killed for the $10,000 worth of tools in my van or just the van in general. Like it’s really Fucking dumb. I’m sorry if I sound insensitive to the struggle of the people in these situations but I promise you anyone in my position would be incredibly frustrated and generally unhappy lol

Thanks for reading

[n7punk]

now i wanna try and make how i see catra's house in asdlm in sims (and a bunch of your other fics too because i always see them so vividly), this is really interesting i always saw the backdoor as a big sliding glass one

honestly now im tempted to do it too XD in my head theres basically an entire window/sliding glass door wall in the living room, but like, everything looks different to different people. i don't usually describe environments in detail unless those details mean something, so a lot of my "settings" are vague and open to the reader. it's really interesting to see how those things are interpreted.

like in chapter one of AMLAIT, i don't describe catra's bedroom at all (although it does come up a bit in chapter 5), but in chapter three i mention adora has ikea furniture and laundry on her floor because that gives a peek into her priorities, financial situation ig, and executive dysfunction lol. honestly its mostly there because of the adhd XD but i still dont lay out which furniture she has and where because your brain will fill in some of that stuff when you hear "bedroom" and its just bad writing to give you a floor plan when not relevant.

this also feeds into something else i call the Default Apartment, which is that every fictional apartment has pretty much the same layout in my head (when i write and often when i read unless other details are given), so catra's layout in Hurricane Adora is actually "the same" apartment as they have in catcher: in the sense that the front door leads to the living room, with the kitchen and dine-in table on the right (fairly open concept), and the back wall has the bedroom and bathroom. if you say apartment, this is what i picture immediately, and it's literally just because it was the layout of my family's apartment (for 2 months!) when i was five. (also i want to note that even though they share that layout, the apartments are veryyyy different in size/finishing in my head, its just that layout)

interestingly, thats not the layout of the apartment in AMLAIT? that's my default but just Not This Time for some reason. given the details i have/will describe over the course of the fic, it could be laid out any number of ways, but in this the apartment opens onto the living room from the side (different orientation than usual), the kitchen is on the left, the laundry is on the back wall along with the dining nook, and then catras bedroom in on the back wall and leads to the small hall with scorpia's next to catra's, a bathroom opposite, and entrapta's at the end.

who knows, maybe i will make something just to compare some general floor plans in my head XD i have no idea why my brain lays things out this way.

[hangingoffence]

so many questions i have, but i wanna ask about the oc in that unknown soldier piece ur published! who is he? any strong ideas of his character/plot or is he more of a vague oc for drawing purposes? also, any oc uve made for entirely self-indulgent reasons? not for a story or specific idea just 'it would be so cool'/'theyre just like me' kind of motivations

<333 MWUAH MWUAH

His name is Patrick and he exists in the same bubble as Michael and Ronnie.

They all do have backstories but they don't really have like a coherent plotline or a story with a message. They all represent different things. They all have a long long history of being different characters and changing and growing as i grew. There are different iterations of them and these "newest" ones mostly represent my own struggles with adulthood and also they represent my want for male friendships bc ive never really had that.

Patrick form all the three might be the one that I myself relate to the most and the one i project myself most to. He's my fav even if I like almost never draw him <333

Patrick is very quiet and non confrontational. He goes with the flow and doesn't really stick out. He doesn't voice out his thoughts that much and usually gets along with anyone. He's like that one kid in school that you see all the time but don't really know anything about.

He lives with his mother and his step-father. When he was about 12 years old his father died in a car accident, which left his mother depressed and vulnerable. (there's this scene that im debating over where a few weeks after his father's death, Patrick's walking home and see what he thinks is his father at their house's window. He runs in and sees a figure for a second before it disappears. this is just me consuming paranormal content thought lol) His baseball cap was originally his fathers.

When his step-father came into their lives, it was more of Patrick's mother needing a person her age to lean onto and that man taking an advantage of that situation. From the start Patrick and his step-father did not get along. Or more like his step-father did not like him. He became very verbally and physically abusive towards Patrick.

During his teenage years he started drinking which slowly it developed into alcoholism. He also got addicted to painkillers because of his constant headaches. After he turned 18 he immediately left his childhood home and moved to his own apartment in another city. His addictions got even worse when he lived on his own. Though he was able to hold a job, he still found himself being drunk rather than sober.

The main shtick is his struggle with addiction and more directly alcoholism(theres a direct link to finnish alcohol culture in him bc of my background but i wont get into it now). And i like to explore it from Ronnie's perspective. In their 20s they reconnected after having a falling out in high school and Ronnie witnessed first hand the brutal grip that the addiction had on his friend. And knowing that he truly can't do anything unless Patrick himself wants to get better (bc thats the way with addicts they will never recover if they don't want it themselves. you cant force them to quit bc they will go back). Eventually he lost his job and needed to get help from the goverment to survive and to pay his bills and have food. Ronnie at first helped him out finacially but then he realized it's just enabling Patrick's addiction bc all that money he got was spent on alcohol, so he stopped that. But still gave him emotional support but refused to help him out financially.

Through years and years of struggle and after many stern talks with Ronnie, Patrick started to realise his own illness. He saw how bad his health was and how alcohol had fucked him up in every level, he started a recovery journey.

After he got out of the chains he returned back to his hometown and to see his mom. But he was greeted by his childhood home turned into a dumpster. His step-father had left his mother years ago and she was left to take care of herself alone. She had started hoarding due to the stress and depression and had developed early signs of alzheimers. Patrick took her to a hospital and got her some treatment. He struggled with his own guilt of leaving her and letting her get to that stage.

Also he's like the one oc that fears every time i look at them bc they know they will go through some shit

[rroechan]

Messrs. Shipwright & Seuss

Magic detective OCs

me rambling below (theres a lot)

originally, they were hp fan characters, with houses, wands, patronuses and everything but for varying reasons, they evolved past that and I basically made up a whole world, similar but not entirely. a Lot of changes were just me fixing and then adding waaay too much detail into the magic system (because I go rabid for world building)

eg. i threw that whole witch = girl, wizard = boy thing FAR out the window. Those are basically titles now that classifies what sort of magic user are you. Regular peeps are Mages, 'Wizard' is basically like a phd, Witches are homeschooled, Warlocks are the equivalent to 'fucked around, found out'. I could go more in depth if ppl r interested,,,

Dr.Shipwright

one on the right

pseud Jeers Shipwright, real name Noah Silkryce

Holds the title of wizard, is an actual genuine doctor whom specialises in the treatment and study of magic cores (a magic user's source of magic located very literally inside their bodies)

he lives in the two story apartment above the storefront thats basically their detective office

his apartment is meant for like a family of 4 but he has So Many Books. Even copies of the same book because theyre "collector's edition" or something other. My god, one quarter of his collection is untouched and still in their packaging because he hasnt finished the ones hes already opened yet.

He'll read about anything you throw at him but he enjoys fiction the most

Eccentric (read, i projected all of my neurodivergence onto him)

aside from loving books to no end, he also enjoys wearing funky patterns. different coloured & patterned socks, arcade floor pants, etc etc. Even at a funeral, if you looked close enough, his necktie has black cat patterns on it.

(He started doing it cause one of his favourite book characters did it. Perseus is ever grateful Noah didnt pick up the character's accent as well)

he looks charming but has nearly zero social skills. Best part is that its not that he doesnt try, he just doesnt bother with it. he leaves all the talking part to Perseus

Mr. Seuss

one on the left

pseud Seuss Dreammaker, real name Perseus O. Coy

Originally part of the Magic Police but left to join Noah in becoming a detective duo. He still retains some favorability from the magic police, specifically the current police chief whom he used to apprentice under.

She, the police chief, is one of the ways the two get their cases

While Noah uses a wand for most magic, Perseus uses a foil sword disguised as a cane

the magic police use magic swords.

Perseus also just. Knows fencing cause hes from a pureblood richie magic family

yea theres blood politics in this too but in the timeline, its cooled waaay the fuck down by the time Noah and Perseus got out of secondary school

coming from a pureblood family, his tastes lean a bit more to the expensive side, especially for food.

him and his parents travelled a lot thus Perseus having a very broad flavour pallette. At some point he'd began his own secret little food journal rating and writting down dishes and recipes he's picked up. (he learnt how to cook purely because the school food was far too bland. Just imagine younger him as that one person on tiktok who cooked a wellington in their dorm)

He acts plenty reserved but he can be very excitable when it comes to new things, not just food. Though, he doesn't show it well unless prompted to.

"Decorum, remember decorum" old lessons die hard. His form of being excited or interested is just very subdued, Noah is always first to notice and will push Perseus into trying something.

I wanted to say that Noah is "La la la la" and Perseus is "Ok ok ok ok" but I failed to clarify that they're both cousins, related by their great-grandparents. This isn't something I threw in, this is relevant to the plot and how they meet each other

one last fun fact abt these two: they're technically legacy characters based off my other hp ocs who are like, great-grand uncle and aunts to these two.

its a nightmare, its insanity, but its very funny to me

[sunrayretriever]

ok so im gonna put this one under a read more since its just my thoughts and not actually like. safety information that everyone should know (again nobody is obligated to read especially this because its fucking long and just a heads up im gonna get kinda gruesome so :\ but if u read all the way thru then u are a real one and i wanna kiss u sloppy style

meyah okay so. follower, come here im gonna tell u something. im not a professional. im not a meteorologist. all of my research and information is found online and by myself. but i have seen the damage that the earth inflicts on us. it is not an act of god, and i really dont care for when people say 'mother nature is pissed'. this is real. this is real life. the damage done to people is real. lives are torn apart. entire families are wiped away with the debris of their poorly constructed homes. if you survive, theres a million different ways you could be injured, and not just physically. the trauma, the grief, the emotional pain of losing not only lives but your home, your business, your car, your pets, your livestock, your city's infrastructure, your community... to lose it all is something that makes me choke up just thinking about..

ive seen videos of people huddled in shelters above ground screaming and crying and praying and the sound of wind and glass crashing and debris flying and sirens going off is pure horror.

something even more terrifying is videos of people STANDING NEAR WINDOWS AND GLASS DOORS AND EVEN OUTSIDE during tornadoes. glass nails 2x4s bricks furniture cars. they become bullets in those winds. wood can get embedded in telephone poles. do you know how incredible that is? its hard for even me to believe!!! and here in the united states IT HAPPENS PRETTY OFTEN!!

cw im about to show u destroyed houses!! click away now if u dont wanna see but i really wanna show anyone who DOES wanna know abt the damage these fuckers cause!!!

so i want you to imagine here. this is your neighborhood. let's say we have an EF5, the most intense a tornado can get. now, a tornado can be rated an EF5, but that doesn't mean it does EF5 level damage THE WHOLE WAY. shall we take a look at how your neighbors houses fared?

mmkay so here we have EF0 level damage. about 35-40% of the tornadoes in the united states are rated this level.

not too bad! shingles are replaceable!

as we go on we pass by a house with EF1 level damage.

whoa! 35% of tornadoes in the US are this level!! but it's JUST the framing of the roof, right? thank goodness the house stayed mainly intact! hopefully everyone followed their safety plan and got to shelter right away!

looks like the house a couple miles down got hit with EF2 level damage.. their entire roof was blown right off, exposing the whole house and everything in it to rain, hail, wind and debris from the tornado... but its just the roof, right? i mean, only between 15-19% of tornadoes get this strong...

EF3 level damage. 6% of tornadoes are this level. everything but some walls and the roof were destroyed. where will that family live now? who's going to help them clean up?

EF4 level damage. almost all above-ground structures are vulnerable to a tornado of this strength. this was a well-built, permanent home. look at how the tree snapped. these winds can uproot the entire thing. thats a 4ft+ tall projectile. thank god only about 1.1% of tornadoes in the US are this strong... but what could be stronger than that?

EF5 level damage. 0.1% tornadoes are this strength. the last one on record was in 2013, moore oklahoma. it destroys virtually everything in its path, and can rip people out of their basements if their door isnt reinforced. the memories from that home are gone. completely gone. there are appliances and vehicles that were never found from tornadoes this intense.

and these are well anchored, permanent houses. mobile homes were destroyed and twisted back in the EF2 level. anything above that turns them into smithereens. lost to the mercy of the winds.

"so james," you say my lovely follower, "what's the whole takeaway from this? what's the point?"

and i grab your hand very gently. and i look you in the eyes. autism be damned, we are locking eyes. and i ask you this:

what if it was you? would you know what to do? are you weather aware? do you have a plan on where to go when your towns tornado sirens go off? does your own even HAVE tornado sirens? what about your pets? the people you love? do they know?

for a while i felt bad for.. trying to spread this around. i felt like i was being a downer. i dont know why but it felt taboo to talk about... i dont know if it makes people uncomfortable or scared but.. it needs to be talked about. we cannot stop the weather from doing this but we can make sure we're safe. we can keep ourselves safe.

i don't want you to be afraid of these storms. i know plenty of people who have a fear of severe weather. fuck, for the first 23 years of my life i was one of them! when the tornado sirens would go off, even for a routine test, my stomach would turn and i would panic. after the 2022 december tornado outbreak, i was watching the news and i heard about the damage caused. i thought 'what in the world could do something so devastating?' and i think it changed my life forever. i went from fearing them to ACTIVELY WANTING TO SEEK THEM OUT. and not only is everything about weather fucking awesome, i know how to keep myself and everyone i care about safe. i can tell my dad when to get ready to go to the shelter before the sirens go off. i can check the radar and tell my friends in other states how big the hail is gonna be before it even gets there.

and it.. really wasn't hard. even a basic sense of weather safety can help. knowing myths from facts helps EVEN MORE!

the earth is so beautiful, my friend. a tornado swirling around in a desolated field in kansas is something that even in video takes my breath away. when it rains, i run outside to see the rainbow that usually forms afterward.

but with this beauty comes a price.