#they're repulsive I swear

[littlelightfish]

I will scream at every non-romantic post I see about these guys. Writers be not afraid. I will love their non-romance fics. I'll blow up your coment section all alone if I have to. I will find you. Artists be not afraid. I will reach tag limit on your artpiece. If I see it at least. And if I don't, I will eventually. Or I'll try. Or @me so I won't fail you.

[corruptedcaps]

What a drag

Anna was worried about her best friend Chloe. It wasn’t just that Chloe had started smoking, though that was odd enough. It was how the cigarettes seemed to changed her.

Anna first noticed it during one of their usual hangouts at their local coffee shop. Chloe lit up a cigarette, her fingers effortlessly handling it like it was something she did every day. There was something in the way she exhaled the smoke, how her eyes seemed to glitter with a new, almost unsettling confidence. At first, Anna thought it was just in her head, but as the days passed, it became impossible to ignore.

Chloe was more vain now, always checking her reflection, fussing over her hair, her clothes. She wore makeup Anna had never seen her use before. Seductive red lipstick, winged eyeliner, bold choices that made her look stunning but unlike her. She had started dressing differently too. Wearing dresses that barely covered anything, plunging necklines that showed off an impressive rack that Anna had never noticed before.

The looks Anna could have seen past but her attitude was changing from the kind and sweet girl Anna knew into some sort of vapid and arrogant 'it' girl that was more unrecognizable by the day.

Anna had started to suspect that all the changes had something to do with the cigarettes when she noticed that no matter how many Chloe smoked, the box always seemed full. At first, Anna dismissed it as a trick of the light or her own imagination. But the more she watched, the more convinced she became that something unnatural was going on. So she put together a plan to get her Chloe back.

One afternoon, while they were sitting in the park, Chloe excused herself to use the restroom, leaving her purse behind. Anna’s heart pounded as she saw the cigarette box peeking out. This was her chance. Quickly, she rummaged through her own bag, pulling out a regular pack of cigarettes she had bought earlier, just in case. With trembling hands, she swapped them, slipping Chloe’s strange, never-ending box into her own pocket.

When Chloe returned, she didn’t notice a thing. She took out a cigarette from the new box and lit it, but Anna could tell immediately that something was different. Chloe seemed puzzled for a moment, almost repulsed by the cigarette she was smoking. Her confident demeanor wavering slightly as she took another drag.

"Em, is it ok if we call it a day? I'm not feeling to good at the moment." Chloe asked rather sheepishly.

"Oh yeah of course, just text me when you get back." Anna said hugging Chloe and feeling the familiar embrace back. That was when she knew she had done the right thing.

Anna walked home with a sense of relief, convinced that Chloe's strange transformation would soon reverse. She had done what she needed to do. As she stepped through the front door, she called out, "Hi, Mom!"

"Hi, honey," her mother, Debra, replied from the kitchen. But then her voice sharpened with concern, "What’s that in your pocket?"

Anna froze. In the rush of swapping the cigarette boxes, she had completely forgotten about the one she had slipped into her pocket. She had meant to toss it out on the way home but had totally forgot. Guilt prickled her skin as she pulled out the mysterious pack, holding it awkwardly in her hand.

"They're not mine I swear! They’re Chloe’s." Anna stammered, her voice faltering under her mother’s piercing gaze. But Debra wasn’t buying it.

"Anna, don’t lie to me. I didn’t raise you to be liar, or a smoker!" Her mother said, her tone both stern and disappointed. "You’re going to sit here and smoke every last one of those, then you’ll realize smoking isn’t so cool."

Anna’s heart dropped. She opened her mouth to protest, to explain everything, to say how the cigarettes were somehow magic but even as she thought it she knew how ridiculous it sounded. Plus once her mother set her mind to something, she wouldn't budge. Debra was already setting up an ashtray on the table, her expression unyielding.

Anna hesitantly took out a cigarette, her hands trembling. As she lit it and took a drag, she was surprised by the taste. It was sweet and smooth, not at all what she expected. She understood now why Chloe was so put off of the pack she had switched. The smoke felt oddly comforting as it filled Anna's lungs, leaving her feeling almost...good. Relaxed. She took another puff, sinking deeper into the sensation.

But as Anna exhaled, something odd began to happen. Unbeknownst to her or Debra, her fingernails started to lengthen, growing into a perfectly manicured set painted red. They gleamed with an unnatural sheen, elegant and sharp, as if they had always been that way. Anna, lost in the sweet smoke, didn’t even notice the transformation.

Anna finished the first cigarette, exhaling slowly as the sweet aftertaste lingered on her lips. "Can I go now?" She asked in a slightly bratty tone.

But Debra crossed her arms, her expression firm. "No. You’re going to smoke every cigarette in that box, just like I said."

Rolling her eyes, Anna took out another cigarette and lit it. As she brought it to her lips and took a deep drag, more changes began to take place. Her chest started to swell, gradually expanding beneath her shirt, still unnoticed by either her or Debra. The sensation was so gradual, so natural, that it didn’t register as anything unusual.

Meanwhile, as the nicotine worked its way through her system, Anna’s thoughts began to shift. She found herself caring less about her mother’s disapproval and more about how good she felt. A sense of superiority started to creep in, an arrogant voice in her mind whispering that she deserved to do whatever she wanted and fuck the consequences.

Her mother wasn’t the only growing irritation in her as she started to feel her eyes were blurring. Taking off her glasses she found to her wonder that her eyesight was sharper than it ever was.

Without waiting for her mother’s instruction, Anna reached for another cigarette and lit it with practiced ease. It was becoming second nature to her now, the act of smoking feeling as natural as breathing. She inhaled deeply, the sweet smoke filling her lungs with a comforting warmth.

As she exhaled, her thoughts of her mother darkened. "Who is she to tell me what to do?" Anna thought, the arrogance growing stronger within her. A wave of irritation washed over her as she glanced at Debra, her mind swirling with mean, dismissive thoughts. “She’s just a jealous old hag. She’ll never understand what it’s like to be this… perfect.”

As Anna continued to smoke, the changes in her body accelerated. Her hair began to grow longer and thicker until it cascaded down her back in luxurious waves. Her waist subtly tightened, drawing in to create a more pronounced hourglass figure. Meanwhile, her lips softened and plumped, taking on a fuller, more seductive shape that made her face look almost doll-like.

As Anna stubbed out her cigarette, she didn’t hesitate before pulling out yet another. She lit it with a smirk, her eyes gleaming with a newfound superiority as she looked at her mother. The changes within her had solidified, leaving little trace of the shy, nerdy girl she once was.

Debra, seeing her plan backfire, grew alarmed. “It’s okay, Anna. You can stop now.” She said, her voice tinged with fear and regret.

But Anna refused, a mocking smile playing on her now-plump lips. “Oh, no, Mommy, you were right. I do need to be punished.” She purred, her tone dripping with sarcasm. She took a long, deliberate drag. She curled her lips into an ‘o’ and puffed out a perfect circle. The ring rising about her head like a sinister halo.

As Anna inhaled deeply, the smoke seemed to take on a life of its own, swirling around her body before seeping into her clothes. The baggy t-shirt she wore began to tighten, the fabric transforming as if molded by the smoke itself. It shrank and shifted, morphing into a tight, revealing black bodycon dress that clung to her newly sculpted tits, accentuating every curve.

At the same time, her face began to change even more dramatically. Thick makeup appeared, as if applied by an invisible hand. Dark eyeshadow that made her eyes smolder, sharp eyeliner, and deep pink lipstick that highlighted her now-plump lips.

Anna looked over at the nearby mirror and for a moment panicked at what she saw. Staring back at her was a gorgeous brunette wrapped in the tightest outfit she had ever saw. This wasn’t the nerdy and weak girl she saw every morning, no this was a wicked bitch who commanded respect.

Her shocked expression soon turned into an evil grin as she took another drag of her cigarette. She had been right, it was the cigarettes after all. They had made her into everything she feared Chloe would become and she loved it. Chloe's transformation had been slow because she had been unknowingly pacing herself. Anna had been forced to corrupt herself she was glad she had.

As Anna grabbed another cigarette and put it between her perfect lips, Debra reached out and snatched the box of cigarettes from Anna’s hand. She had finally clocked the transformation in her daughter. “That’s enough.” She said, her voice trembling with both fear and desperation. But as she glanced inside the box, her heart skipped a beat, it was still full, as if none of the cigarettes had been smoked at all.

Anna watched her mother’s reaction with a cold, detached amusement. She sat with her legs crossed, taking another drag out of her cigarette. “Give them back.” She said, her voice dripping with a calm, almost lazy menace.

“No, Anna! We need to find someone who can help you. This isn’t right, none of this is right.” Debra insisted, clutching the box tightly.

Anna’s expression remained unchanged as she let out a soft sarcastic sigh. She took a long, deliberate drag from her cigarette, exhaling a thick plume of smoke directly into her mother’s face. The smoke curled around Debra, who gasped and coughed as it invaded her lungs, forcing its way into her system.

“I said, give those back, Debra.” Anna repeated, her tone icy and commanding. Her use of her mother’s first name was chilling.

Debra’s resistance crumbled under the weight of Anna’s words. Her hands, once so firm in their grip on the cigarette box, trembled as she slowly extended it back to Anna. She didn’t understand why, but she felt compelled, almost powerless to do anything else. With a shaky breath, she handed the box over, her heart heavy with dread as she realized how much control she had lost.

Anna took the box in her long nailed hand, taking out another cigarette and lighting it off of the still unfinished one in her hand. She looked at the new cigarette light up with a subtle flash of pink. Somehow she knew that this would cause whoever smoked it to become her slave.

“Here Debbie, take a nice long drag.” Anna said holding out the cigarette for her mother to take. Again Debra felt incapable of refusing. Anna smirked darkly to herself as her mother reluctantly begin to smoke. Casually flipping over the box of cigarettes in her hand, she read the warning she hadn't noticed before, 'Contains Bitchotine.'

[group-call]

shoutout to aplatonic platonic repulsed/averse people who feel like they're a disappointment for their attraction or lack thereof. you do not exist to make other people happy with the promise of friendships. you are allowed to exist independent to what people are interested in you for. you owe nobody any sort of relationship, not even something as """simple""" as a platonic one/friendship!!

alloplatonics can reblog but don't derail or put weird guilty shit in the tags i swear.

[purplemang0z]

My Rtc Headcannons ^^

Notes: I ship Nischa and Perfectdolls so expect that and I'm going to interchange Savannah and Ricky's names for their character. I haven't watched Legoland, and this is an au if they all survived the accident. That's all. Enjoy! ^^

Ricky and Constance both write fanfics and have each other proofread it.

Mischa cries during every movie with a found family trope.

Ocean is an extreme perfectionist and has a hair brush on her 24/7 just in case her hair messes up.

Penny knows a bunch of random animal facts.

They all learned sign language in order to communicate with Ricky better

Mischa started crushing on Noel first but told himself that he just wanted to be best friends.

Penny and Noel really enjoy poetry and get together just to show each other it. They both have written some for their respective partners.

Ocean and Mischa are surprisingly close because Ocean used to tutor him when he was first learning English.

They all HATE Karnak and after the accident Mischa burned the machine.

Jane and Ricky both really enjoy stargazing.

Ocean's parents are both drug addicts.

Ocean is a sex repulsed asexual, a lesbian and transfem

Mischa is transmasc and bi

Noel is genderfluid, Ricky is enby and bi.

Constance is Pan, and Penny is a lesbian demigirl.

Mischa is really good at remembering languages.

Constance carries a bunch of sweets on her all the time.

Savannah knows a bunch of gossip because people talk about it in front of them all the time. He tells it to Penny all the time and she uses it as blackmail.

Talia is the sweetest person to ever grace the face of the earth and the whole choir loves her.

Ocean has really mean intrusive thoughts about people and sometimes says them out loud when she's rambling.

Penny likes to braid Ocean's hair.

Mischa and Talia have openly sexted on other people's YouTube comment sections.

Noel knows a bunch of different instruments and sometimes teaches them to choir.

Mischa hangs out at Taco Bell with Noel when he gets bored at work.

They're all terrified of Rollercoasters now.

Constance is a swiftie.

They all go to Mischa's house the most because his room is the biggest and he has the most games.

Ocean is the tallest and Constance is the shortest.

Mischa has made a bunch of music videos in his bedroom.

Savannah is good at writing music and sometimes writes Mischa rap music for his YouTube channel.

Noel has learned Ukrainian secretly to surprise Mischa. He also knows a bit of French (mostly the swears)

Ocean is super competitive and turns into a completely different person while playing games.

Constance has made a scrapbook of the Choir (with a bit of Ocean's help).

That's all for now! ^^

[folkookie97]

❝ blue valentine ❞ — JJK

— SUMMARY: ❝ No welcoming hugs or your voice humming one of his songs while you cooking one his favorite recipes. Jungkook noticed that you already knew about everything he did. ❞

— PAIRING: fiancé!Jungkook x female!reader

— TYPE: angst

— WORD COUNT: 883

— WARNINGS: Inspired by Babe (Taylor Swift), Ambiguous/Open Ending, Cheating, Infidelity, POV Second Person, Established Relationship/Engagement, Argument, Swearing

— NOTES: Sorry guys but today my mood is something like 'Look at this... they're holding hands. I want them dead'. But I hope you like it <3

— RELEASE DATE: February 14, 2024

— CROSSPOSTING: ao3

"You already know, don't you?"

The words left Jungkook's lips before he could control them. As much as he wanted to sound kinda nonchalant, he felt a pain in the back of his neck starting to bother him beyond usual.

He noticed what was about to happen the moment he entered the living room, closing the door behind him and without any sign of your presence waiting for him to come home. No welcoming hugs or your voice humming one of his songs while you cooking one his favorite recipes.

Jungkook noticed that you already knew about everything he did. He could see it in the dark circles under your watery eyes that kept looking at the TV in the room, even without paying real attention to the movie.

You just nodded your head, feigning disinterest about your fiancé's question — even though he could notice how your hands tightened the blanket that protected yourself from the cold.

"Honey—" Jungkook started, feeling his voice tremble and the bitter taste of blood in his throat. How many hours had he been almost biting his own lips?

Probably since he got on the plane to go home.

To come back to you.

You didn't even move, you just switch the focus of your attention for a few seconds. At the same time your eyes met his, Jungkook's heart broke into thousands of little pieces. But the gaze didn't last long. “Don't do it. I don’t wanna talk about that now, Jungkook.”

Before he could get the chance to argue against it or beg you to listen his apologies, you glared at him one more time, sending tremors through each of his limbs. He could barely sustain an exchange of gazes with you.

His fiancée. The love of his life. The one he longed to care for and protect until the end of his life. The one he should never break the heart to.

"Today is Valentine's Day."

Damn, he had really screwed up.

Swallowing hard, he nodded his head. "I... I know."

Your mocking chuckle reminded him that you knew him better than anyone. "I often can recognize your shitty attempts to lie to me. But you already knew that, didn't you?"

Fuck. "My love—" He tried to get closer to you and your double bed's edge, but the simple stretching of your hand towards him stopped his body.

Where was your engagement ring?

Something in your mind clicked on. "STOP CALLING ME LIKE THAT! ARE YOU DEAF? Didn't you listen me telling you that I don't wanna talk about your fucking cheating right now?" Jungkook's heart skipped a beat at the acidity in your tone.

The scary and new doubt in his thoughts was breaking him more than ever. "Where's your ring?"

"Wow, I'm glad you care about our engagement. When I saw so many pictures of you and that hot girl kissing at an afterparty of one of your shows, I really thought you had forgotten about it for a few minutes."

Jungkook whimpered due to your sarcasm, ignoring the fire in your gaze as he sat down next to you, already letting a river of tears run down his flushed cheeks. "Please, honey... You know I love you. That... that was a terrible mistake."

"Oh, Kookie..." His nickname never felt so painful on your lips. "I think 'terrible' is a very simple word to express how humiliating this is for me."

You felt like throwing up when he whimpered again, the bright tears suddenly progressing into a loud, annoying cry. You never imagined you would be so repulsed by looking into his Bambi eyes.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. Please, honey..." Jungkook sobbed, ignoring her grumbles and pulling her into a tight hug.

You tried to push him away, taking off the weight of his arms that held you, afraid that you might escape after a blink of an eye. He couldn't lose you. He couldn't do it. "JUNGKOOK! LET GO OF ME! STAY THE FUCK AWAY!"

The more you tried freeing yourself from his body, the more Jungkook cried like a little child. You hated seeing him cry, almost as much as you hated him in that moment. Almost as much as you hated the pain in your heart begging yourself to forgive him. Begging yourself to keep loving him. Begging youself to give in and ignore your own mind.

You barely realized you were also a blubbering mess until you found it difficult speaking without letting out little shaky cries. "I fucking hate you. I... I hate you so bad, Jungkook. I hate what you did to me. To us."

"Me too..." Jungkook's voice sounded more broken than before and mixed with loud crying as he lightly opened his arms, freeing you from his desperate hug. "I hate myself too..."

"You disgust me, you're so disgusting. How could you do this?" You sobbed again, using all your effort to look away. If you let yourself be carried away by those pretty eyes that begged for your forgiveness, that story would repeat itself one day. You couldn't handle the possibility of living that situation all over again. "Oh my God. You really blew this. I hate you. You don't... You don't deserve me."

"I know..."

He really knew.

[bittergirlsworld]

I finally gave up and saw TVD to understand some stuff in TO, and I just have to say: what an awfully written show. My goodness, how the hell is the most annoying girl in Mystic Falls the anchor who holds them together? Caroline, the fandom darling has no personality whatsoever. She's a camaleon, she's what they need her to be in the episode. Sometimes, she's the greatest soul alive, sometimes she's only there to slutshame another girl for doing exactly what she does. Sometimes she's pinning after her boyfriend, sometimes she backstabs him. Sometimes she's so repulsed by the 1000 year murder who bribes her with fancy things and sometimes she's okay to use the hell out of him to have what she needs. Elena, who's supposed to be the protagonist, becomes more and more the love interest to Damon. His love for her, that both recognize as toxic, comes from a sire bond and everyone insists to pretend that she loves him just the same without it as if she wasn't heavily projecting Stefan on him to the point he calls her out. The Originals, who were supposed to be invicible, the most insane of them just dies for a teenage hunter. Finn, the most sane one, portrait as a bore because he resented the bother who kept him in a coffin for thousands of years. Katherine, who I swear is one of the only two female characters really interesting in this show, is called a bitch all the time for the unforgivable crime of running from a psycho hybrid who wanted to slaughter her and then slaughtered her fucking family. Elijah and Rebekah does not exist outside of Klaus. Rebekah was just extremely annoying till they gave her a real personality and in the spin-off. Out of nowhere, she was obsessed with being human. Bonnie, poor Bonnie. The racism was blatantly showing. She was only there to be the magic negro trope. They didn't even allowed her to have romantic storyline! Her boyfriend who she resurrected cheats on her with a freaking ghost and she still back with him in season 5? She deserved so much better. Damon turns her mother in a vampire and then she's his best friend? She loses her entire family as well and is never treated with the same courtesy Elena has been treated. Not even the fancy balls she could attend, apparently. (Her wigs were also terrible. Poor Kat, they made her appear so old sometimes with those hairs).

And the romantic pairings? Awful. Damon and Elena were downright disgusting. He raped Caroline. Why everyone pretends he wasn't compelling her while having sex with her? Why all these centuries old man are so obsessed with fuck teenagers? How's that's romantic, date a girl on high school when you had two shares of a lifetime? Even if we take in consideration the lore that vampires stop aging when they're turned, the only couple who would make sense in this logic were Stefan and Elena, since Stefan was a teenager when turned. Klaus and Caroline had no romantic connection. She used him dry, he bite her to die to make a point to her boyfriend. He would be her last love but fucked her and left. She hated him but would happily accept his gifts while treating him like a dog. Damon and Elena loudly assume to each other that they are terrible together but then forget because they're fucking again. I swear to god, that relationship was pure based on their sex drive. She wanted that old dick so bad she blamed dead Katherine for the fact he killed her friend and threatened her brother.

The timeline made no sense. Plotholes all around. Why Bonnie couldn't make magic while being the anchor? Must be because she would be too powerful, and with Elena being so useless, they couldn't allow that. Caroline is another one completely useless for the plot. She could disappear from the show and wouldn't change a single thing.

It's really awful. After finally seeing this I can say with conviction that The Originals was the best they could have.

[theredharpy]

Beer & Smoke:

What would happen if some stranger tried to Touch Y/N Infront of Ghost.

• Fluff • Protective Ghost • Jealousy • Swearing • No mention of Readers gender •

A carry on from:

It was cold, dark, the only light source came from a half flickering street light on the road, Y/N needed a moment from the drunken stupor of the bar, the orchestra of loud voices, drinks and music where only slightly muffled by the door.

They inhaled the cold night air a few times, their body started to feel the buzz of the two strong beers they'd had ontop of Soap ordering shots of whiskey for the group.

It had only been a week past since Y/N had admitted to Ghost that they cared about him and the same could be said about how the lieutenant felt about them, during that time they'd been alot closer to one another on mission outings, Ghost couldn't take his eyes off them, from travelling back and forth from places to making sure he always had a watchful eye on them when they where infiltrating a building with possible hostiles inside.

Ghost was still wearing his mask, the only thing he'd changed was the rest of his outfit, his signature black jacket, black pants and his boots, the locals of the pub had gotten accustomed to how he dressed, nobody dare say anything directly to him, they thought better than to make a smart remark towards him, except from one guy who L.T hadn't seen before.

Whilst Y/N was wearing an outfit that Ghost couldn't take his eyes off, how it perfectly hung to their figure, the way their hair was styled, Y/N always captivated him even though he was too stubborn to admit that.

Since the moment Ghost, Y/N, Soap and Gaz walked into the bar Ghost spotted him straight away, something felt off, the way he gave him a repulsed look to how the strangers eyes followed Y/N, visually undressing them as they approached the bar to order the first round of drinks, Ghost had purposely leaned against the bar next to Y/N, brushing his arm up against theirs, he continued to watch the stranger.

They're mine.

Don't fuck with me, mate.

Mine.

But the guy didn't seem to take the hint, having the balls to almost smirk at L.T's actions as he continued to look between his drink on the bar and back towards Y/N, a devilish glint in his eyes.

Being arrogant enough to think it was a wise idea to order Y/N a free drink and asking the bar tender to let them know who it was from, Y/N was polite enough to shoot the stranger a nod and a smile of gratitude.

But it only added to the lieutenants agitation with the stranger.

"Prick." He muttered to himself quietly enough under the mask that nobody heard it except from Soap who cocked him a confused brow in return.

"ah I wouldn't worry 'bout him L.T." He chimed in.

-

The sound of the door opening caught Y/N's attention, turning their head towards the entrance a smile crept across their lips at the person who appeared.

"You alright?"

Ghost asked calmly, pulling his usual pack of Cigarettes out from his jacket pocket.

"Just needed some quiet, it was getting rather.." Y/N paused for a moment trying to think of the right words.

"Bit bloody much." Ghost finished their sentence, passing them a cigarette.

Y/N smiled, taking the cigarette out of his hand and nodding in response. "I didn't realise it was going to be that busy, or maybe I'm just not used to people anymore." They joked.

Ghost shifted his weight, placing himself infront of Y/N, shielding them from the cold air that was beginning to turn into frost, lighting his Cigarette before passing Y/N the lighter.

"you and me both." He muttered, watching as Y/N attempted to light their cigarette but failing multiple times.

"Y/N--"

He spoke watching as Y/N's face twisted into an annoyed frown, rolling his mask up towards his nose.

"Y/N bloody hell-- Come here."

Ghost grabbed their hands with his own, cupping his hand gently ontop of theirs, watching as Y/N's captivating eyes trace his face in surprise of his actions, his features settling the moment their eyes met as he looked back down at his hands, his gloved hand gently rubbed against Y/N's softly.

"you need to light it like this look."

He used moved one of his hands to grab the lighter pulling Y/N's hands closer to his face, shielding the cigarette from the crisp wind, he pulled the lighter between their hands and lightning the Cigarette.

"that's better."

Y/N could feel their cheeks begin to feel hot from Ghost standing so close to them, his warm gloved hands cupping their own, their eyes began to get lost in the sea of hazel that was looking back at them, noticing L.T's heavy breaths as he took the cigarette out and passed it over to them.

"you know for next time."

The words he spoke mignt as well have been white noise, it was only them two, nobody else except the darkness and the frost, he was towering over them, only a breath away.

"Y/N can I--" His voice was a low sweet tone.

Until.

They both quickly pulled back as a loud slam of the pub door snatched them quickly out of the moment, the lieutenant pulling down his mask once more.

"Ay pal." It was the stranger from earlier stumbling over himself over towards Ghost and Y/N, clearly he'd had one beer too many at this point.

"what do you want." Ghost turned to confront the stranger, his mannerisms changed in an instant.

"Spare us a Cig would ya? I haven't got one." He stood only a few steps away from the pair, looking between both Ghost and Y/N.

Ghost let out a low scoff but wanted the guy gone as quickly as possible without causing a scene, especially knowing Y/N had eyes on him, his priority was them.

Passing the guy one of his cigarette's he turned to face Y/N but was taken by complete surprise when the man had the audacity to push himself between the two, his arm finding its way onto Y/N's back.

"Soo are you guys like a thing eh." He chuckled deeply as he patted his hand on Y/N's back forcing his body weight onto them, almost throwing Y/N completely off balance as they froze up in utter surprise at his ballsy display.

"I think you better get off them." Ghost looked towards Y/N, searching their face for a sign to intervene.

"ooh calm down like- was only playing." He nudged Y/N with his arm jokingly, turning to say something into their ear, his beer coated lips only centimetres away from their skin. "You're far too pretty for that fella anyways, you could come home with me though and I'll show you what a good time is." His causing Y/N to pull away violently.

"what the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Y/N couldn't help but react brushing their hand over their cheek multiple times, giving the stranger a look of fury.

Ghost couldn't help but grab a hold of the man, using his weight to push the man away from Y/N and using his own body as a human shield.

"I said fuckin' get off em' did you not hear me the first time."

Ghost spat venom, his grip on the man's shirt was so tight he caused it to rip in multiple places.

"you fucken touch them again mate, I'll break your fucken legs."

His mind was becoming flooded with viscous, jealous words, L.T was trying his best to keep the ravenous beast he kept locked inside him from appearing.

Mine.

Y/N is mine.

How dare you touch them.

How dare you breathe on them.

Ghost let go of his grip, using the palm of his hand to continue to push the man away, taking slow long strides towards him, using his height to tower over him.

"Piss off." Each syllable in his accent was clear and precise, "I don't like repeating myself."

The stranger slurred drunken words towards Ghost as he locked eyes with Y/N for a merely a second before taking the hint and making a smart decision to scurry off back inside the pub for his own protection.

There was a moment of silence, Ghost turned to look over his shoulder towards Y/N.

"I'm okay don't worry." Y/N groaned at what had just occured, slowly approaching the lieutenant.

"thanks for all of that by the way." They said softly, looking up towards him, watching his eyes dart between the country road leading back towards the base and the entrance of the pub.

"I told you didn't I.." Ghost looked down towards Y/N, "I don't want to ever see you get hurt." He couldn't stop himself from brushing his hand against their own.

"Ghost--" Y/N couldn't help but smirk at his words finding his protective side amusing and noticing the little ways Ghost was unknowingly showing his true feelings towards them. "Let's just have a nice walk back to the base eh L.T." They gestured, nudging his muscular arm with their shoulder playfully.

"Smart choice." He agreed.

/ TO BE CONTINUED

NEXT PART IS GONNA INCLUDE

🔥SPICE🔥 /

[bookskeepers]

third time's the charm ♡ tsukishima kei (teaser)

pairing: timeskip ! college ! tsukishima kei x afab ! nb ! reader

content warnings: heavily suggestive. MDNI. very nsfw. sex. trauma. fun stuff. a little self-insert-y (but what x reader fic isn't?). reader thinks they're asexual at first lol

also -- i'll hold a poll after this to determine the reader's major. y'all better answer it >:(

a/n: just a little teaser... (tsukki doesn't actually appear in this part too much) also sorry that it's shit

also i realize the end might make it seem like "oh ur not ACTUALLY asexual u just need to get dicked down good" but thats not my intent. thats me sharing my life experience thru the reader's pov T_T

You know how, in elementary school, they ask you what you want to be when you grow up?

When they asked you, sweet, little, innocent you, what you wanted to be at the age of 5, you had very proudly answered: "Married!"

That sentiment, however, didn't really stick with you throughout life. Yes, the thought of belonging to someone for the rest of your life was nice, but you rarely went out of your way to pursue it.

Besides, your answer changed every year you were asked. "Married" at 5, "Princess" at 6, "Astronaut" at 7, "Zoologist" at 8 (your teacher was shocked by this one, mainly because 8-year-olds barely know what biology is, much less zoology). Slowly but surely, you had made your way down the STEM path of life.

Sure, you had crushes. In 7th grade, you even tried to make a move. It had been lunch time, and your entire grade was packed into the cafeteria. There were two columns of those picnic-esque tables with a clear, big aisle down the middle. You had been in that aisle, en route to tell your crush that you liked them, when you had slipped and fell flat on your ass in front of your entire class. The chatter had fallen silent -- at least, you swear it did -- and you heard a few giggles. You felt everyone's gaze on you and you turned bright red before scampering to your feet and running off.

You decided to take it as a sign from God that love wasn't your thing.

High school came and went rather uneventfully. Crushes appeared then got haircuts, making you lose interest. You watched as your friends supposedly "fell in love" with someone they held all of two conversations with, watched as they got into relationships and got their hearts broken, heard as they spoke about having sex at 15 and 16. You found their descriptions of the carnal act rather gross.

Maybe it was during high school that you convinced yourself you were asexual and sex-repulsed. After all, LGBTQ+ was becoming more "mainstream" then.

It's in college when you realize that's not true, of course. After all, college is all about exploring yourself sexually, right? Making out with people of all genders, trying new things in the bedroom, trusting strangers not to give you diseases... What a fun time.

And, hey, who knows? Maybe you'll find yourself partaking in the usual college activities too. You highly doubt it, though -- after all, at the start, you're convinced you're both asexual and aromantic.

You didn't once think you'd end up in the bed of a semi-pro volleyball player that's blessed with rippling abs and a tall physique. How could you?

[liminsendhelp]

Don't pet the flea cat

Price×f!reader

This chapter contains references to blood and meat and torture. Angst. Our main character is getting worse.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6.

You, no joke, wanted to scream. As you suspected, the TF141 hadn't been at the base for over a month. They left at night, and you stared at the tail of the helicopter for a long time. You didn't even go out to say goodbye to it. Not having the right to do that was depressing, but sobering. You managed to forget reality.

Over the days, you could chase away thoughts of Price. He was there for you. Now you were starting to realise with horror that you were worried.

You sat down with your victim friends, wrapping a net of understanding around them to get to the bottom of it. You gossiped with your secretary, clearly wanting to get you into bed after realising you were single and not quite heterosexual. You were still training, just without John Price. Day in, day out, day in, day out. So after a week, bored with no grams of infused black humour around, no fair grades, no adorable buzzing and warm cow eyes, no four fuckers you swore you couldn't stand, you began to hate the world even more. Everything seemed bland.

"I swear I'll kill someone." You say at the table on a Monday morning. The sacrificial lambs around you, grinning sweetly as you burn holes in the idiots at the other tables. "You can't." "I have the guts." "And the skills?"

You turn your head sharply towards the black-eyed girl across the table. She's always so genuinely right that at first you don't even realise the suggestion in her words.

"Really?"

And she…nods. The other victims at the table nod, too.

So yeah, you're not bored anymore. You're hurt and hurt every day, now you're also angry. They come to the hall in the mornings, someone new every day, in shifts so that only one person is not in place. They torture you in fights, stances, kicks, punches, somersaults, jumps, reflexes and planks. And you keep quiet. Because you know, each to their own degree, that you are motivated by only one desire - to prove their weakness.

They're scared, sometimes. From the outside, you look empty. Like a shell of a person, not yet torn open to release a ripe monster. They let you joke and chatter, and you stay silent, focused on not hurting anyone. Exactly until you're knocked down time after time, your nose, your lip smashed, hurt. Until you're humiliated. That's when you stop thinking and start killing. It's probably the same therapeutic experience for them. They're trying to put themselves in their past place, the victim's place, and control their loss.

Because you're repulsive, fierce. Your body is big and soft, strong unpredictably, fast desperately. You feel no pain while you're held in a grapple. As opposed to your hips choking you, you squeeze your hands on their throats so hard they almost pass out. When they throw you over their shoulder and you instantly spit out your mouthpiece, ripping the t-shirt on your sparring partner with your teeth because you don't have time to get your hands on it. And if you get clipped, you fall over invariably with a roll to your feet to saddle up and bash their head against the floor.

Because you are violence. Ordinary, domestic, smelling of cheap beer and domestic tyranny. They could be the same if they saw entirely the norm they are prescribed in the morning as a cure for dissent. After all, the victim has two choices. Either kill or die.

"You've got to stop doing that. It's just a workout, no one's going to hurt you more than they need to." "I know. Sometimes, just, you know… No, just forgive." "Tough childhood, huh?"

You don't stop the play. Knowing you're just taking your anger, frustration and stress out on them, you cover yourself by pretending you're out of control. Like you remember how to let it go. But they feel pity. They don't see the rotten fangs beneath the lambskin you barely pulled on. And the days go by again, and you find entertainment again, and you start to trust more and more again. And the confessions pile up on you, and the tape recorder in your pocket won't stop writing, and the secretary helps you get to the right documents. She thinks she's doing a great job with you. You're just hoping for a chance to dig deeper.

You want to find something new, not just to gather statistics, but to run an arse-blowing campaign. Let everything burn with fire while you air your dirty laundry in public. You won't admit, even to yourself, that you just need a surprised expression on Price's face. And after, of course, approval. As if yes, that's what you could have found, just you. To help them throw the rats off the ship.

And to have Ghost. Satisfied only that his hopes were fulfilled.

One pat on the shoulder. One dry nod. You're not asking much. You'd like more.

…

It's fucking hot in here. In the stifling heat, they sat in the basement of the manor. Kings of our world. Their guards piled up near the secret passage in the catacombs.

There are five groups in all. The first will start firing, a diversionary tactic. The second wait inside the walls of the house. The smallest group of all, necessary for the right direction of movement. The third are in the woods surrounding the estate, clearing the field of local patrols. Fourths. "The Attic. Gas on the upper floors, with them, to prevent anyone escaping by helicopter.

And their group. In the basement, with the fuming air, waiting for the team. Each of them wouldn't mind finishing things themselves. But no, it has to be done quietly. Somehow John knows, senses something's going to happen.

Something's already happening.

The signal for action, the steady breathing, the orders. One single wound, and it's a tangential one. It's all coming out really quietly and quickly. Through the same hot catacombs, they lead the cartel goons to armoured trucks with not very friendly guards inside.

Everything goes quietly. The only thing that could ruin the operation is that the Attic group fails to shoot down the almost-mafia-head's helicopter in time. The smoking structure falls not into the woods, but exactly into the right wing of the estate, only to crash and tear up the ground beneath it. But even that doesn't stop the operatives from pushing the fugitives to the basement. All four teams, leading the disarmed and bound defendants, successfully convoy the men to the underground prison. Anxiety not subsiding, John puts a hand to his chest, in the place where a slim book from her collection would be hiding beneath his body armour if… if he asked directly. He would do so before the next mission, and carry a piece of literary reproach close to his heart. Yes, that's right, as soon as he gets there. And will sign an authorisation to access information about himself in case he dies. For scientific purposes. Then it won't make any difference. And no arsehole's gonna take that psychopath's rights away from her. Ghost will see to it that his will is carried out.

The initial interrogation entrusted to their care goes unnecessarily smoothly, too. John blushes away the smiles he sees on the faces of the cartel gangsters so as not to lose his temper.

Three hours later they're recalled to base, and that seems odd to him too. His gut doesn't fail, half an hour later the order changes, they're being redirected. Just their group.

"What's wrong?"

Laswell looks at him from across the table. New mission, heightened urgency, out in five minutes, helicopter will be arriving shortly. John glumly rereads the short brief.

"Something's wrong."

…

Something's wrong. You haven't seen Him in a month. Idiot soldiers, higher ups, yes even your lambs have been quietly alarmed. Dead. That's fine. You hadn't dismissed the possibility, and you were already grieving for Him endlessly. You had no right to show any emotion. You just knew that there were no more people in the dining room who seemed to be predators. You just saw that you had no place in that silence. So work. Work again. Bad habit. If he's dead, you have no-one to be ashamed of where you stuck your nose in.

Medical records label rape as "sharp pain in the lower abdomen." If the victim couldn't remember anything because of the opium, it was labelled "poisoning", if she recognised her attacker it was "cramps due to stress", if she saw but didn't know her attacker it was "suspected ulcer".

The latter cases had additional captions. "Sent for gastroscopy/ultrasound." eaquals to "investigation cited". Positive and negative results respectively implied a found and not found rapist.

Need I mention that ulcers were almost never detected? The patients turned out to be completely healthy. What distinguished rape cases from real cases of GI problems was the number of days off officially prescribed to the patient. More than three days was a bell; more than a week was a bell. There were two cases that imprinted themselves on your memory. The body, accustomed to cruelty and injustice, analysed the data on two month-long leaves and jerked. The first name is classified. The second was a woman who retired a year ago.

Thousands and thousands of military personnel. Only fifteen cases you could pull evidence from.

Fifty suspicious coincidences you couldn't explain.

Hundreds of rapes that never reached you.

And that's considering that any sexual encounter here was severely punished. Rape didn't just mean getting fired. A man would just disappear. He'd go on a mission and never show up. And this, of course, after months of boycott. No one would touch him, no one would communicate with him, no one would treat him as a human being. Rumour. The same rumours. Ghost stood hawkishly guardian of this policy. Of course, the command took liberties. The mass of nurses interviewed laughed coquettishly and outright bawled as they recalled advances from half-dead military men (it's worth mentioning that most of them were still alive). But no one confessed to the relationship, only discussed the varieties of genitalia that had passed through the strong hands of the medics. You didn't bother to use your knowledge of medical records. Anxiously smoking a smoking cigarette butt outside the medical block, you stared at the wall.

He was smiling so sweetly. Like a bear.

"What, Capitainess, are you sad?"

The sweet German woman - your secretary's best friend - was somehow luscious and unpleasantly warm. She smelt of blood all the time, and worked four-handedly at donation and "in confidence and as needed" in pathology.

You remain silent, examining her sly expression. It's not that you don't get along, quite the opposite. Which is why you allow her to mock you a little. To try and bite you. "Do you think yours will be here soon?" "Anticipating the autopsy already?" You mutter. "Oh, yeah, I love marbled beef. Did you see those shoulders? That dad bod." "He doesn't have any…" You begin, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. "Gotcha" she exclaims victoriously and your smile becomes much more noticeable than it was a second ago. "So you're looking at him!" Instead of answering, you toss your cigarette into the nearest rubbish bin and wait for the continuation.

The continuation doesn't come for several minutes as you stare into the surprisingly clear sky. Your hands are in your pockets, your lip between your teeth bitten to a bloody pulp.

"Is he alive?" You whisper. "Most likely. I've been here five years. Rumour has it he once commanded an operation right after he was rescued from captivity. And, I know you're not kidding yourself about that, but he really is a threat. A lethal one. He'll get out on his own." "Or he'll be dragged out." "More like dragged away." It sounds from behind you. You turn around to see an aggressive soldier handing you a cigarette. You smoke in silence. He claps you on the shoulder. "They're supposed to decide tomorrow whether they're sending my unit on its first operation. Nothing much, since the strongest positions are occupied by… whatever they're occupied with." "Back-up?" It's probably the simplicity of your interest in his answer. For a second, in those clear colours of the sun, you seem a little smaller, weaker. The desire to help rears its head. "Not only." He replies. You press your lips together.

The situation only gets more tense. The groups are coming back. Everyone is coming back. Gaz returns in such nervous overload that he can't unclench the hand he's been pressing against Soap's wound. He is silent and doesn't laugh. You look at him quite close, hiding behind the doctors and nurses. That white coat of yours, that skill of yours, that fucking charm of yours. The sight of Gaza is stupefying. The sight of Soap, pale, hooked up to a life support machine, terrifies you. The same iceberg, knocking you cold every time you see the last shots before the cameraman dies. The second before the explosion, those not yet shot run in silent panic. The second before the beast attacks. The recording cuts off only when the battery dies, already after the owner's screams have ended. The second before the shrill sobs of a girl being raped in a circle. That moment of helplessness behind the screen when you see and can't stop watching. When you are a participant and a perpetrator.

Gaz has been silent for a week. Soap is still in a coma. You move the laptop into the medics' lounge. On the floor by the socket, all black and dirty. You've lost seven kilos from the stress. On the floor next to you is one of the nurses' old thermos. You drew a small abstraction of stars and lines on her ankle with a black marker. The drawing is almost washed away, but you see its outline when her feet in crocs stop next to your knee. She shares a meal with you every day. You don't thank her, but you slip her a candy bar or ten quid or a sticker drawing. Your paper now has more than just a skeleton, it has substance. It's almost a good research paper. When you're allowed, you visit Gaza. Sometimes it's ten minutes, sometimes it's half an hour. On the first day, you simply reach out for him to put his palm into the embrace of your cracked fingers. His skin is just as rough and cold, but you can feel the pulse, and that rhythm lets you live, too. Now you come in with a book. You read Oscar Wilde's De Prófundis. Gaz is still silent, but his eyes warm and sparkle as he laughs from your sincerely-sarcastic-outraged intonations. Towards the end of the week, the book is finished, your paper has been sent to Dr Moon for another review, and your anxiety makes you stay on your feet steadier and fiercer. You dread going to sleep and finding out one of them is dead. Their faces looked like a mess when they arrived. Maybe they'd explain it to you, but you've already formed your own opinion. Your hands shake from the slight rise in blood pressure when you do more than just manipulate digitised information, but a real invasion. But. What were you supposed to do? The stolen medical records give insight into the anamnesis. Gaz doesn't speak for a reason. His tongue was cut off, not cauterised at the root, just wrapped in thin wire. The repair was emergency and only affected the major vessels. You think that's a good thing. If he heals well, he should be able to speak again. He'll probably have trouble recognising taste, but he'll be able to function almost fully. Two, three, five months and he'll be good as new. Soap's situation is much worse. Couple of shots to the torso.

Shattered lung, broken ribs, almost hit the heart. Second bullet punctured the liver. The third one tangentially grazed Soap's head. No brain damage, but damage to the skull. The injuries are severe, though not irreversible, but it will be difficult for him to regain his fighting ability. He'll be given an honourable rest. If he does come out of his coma. If he survives.

But he wasn't tortured. Most likely the macho man got out and sat in ambush, devising a plan to free himself. If Gaz was rescued by his forces, you weren't even going to give Soap an extra beating for kamikaze behaviour.

Moreover, you're on the verge of not doing the same.

But you're in luck. After a week in which you've never once been able to check on either Gaz or Soap, a wave passes through the entire base. It starts with the cobble-faced faces of the convoyers and the bags over the heads of the prisoners, and ends near you when one of your victim friends, bows.

"They'll be interrogating the ones who captured Cap and Lt."

A black veil rises before your eyes.

[haunting-hufflepuffs-basement]

Introduction Post:

Hey hey people! This is my intro post!

I am both tired and a coward and have made a separate account to interact with the Marauders/Harry Potter fandom without having to deal with the TERFs every time I open tumblr. I must make it clear that I DO NOT support JKR in any way. I WILL NOT tolerate bigotry and WILL block you and tell others to block you too if I see any.

You can call me Spectr. My pronouns are she/her, and I'm aroace. I'm older than 18, but I'm sex repulsed so I basically won't ever reblog smut or NSFW. Minors are welcome, but I swear a lot, so maybe don't stick around if that makes you uncomfy.

This blog is for all my Harry Potter and Marauders headcanons, hot takes (and ice cold takes), art, fanfic if I ever get around to it, and general discussion. And yes, I consider the Harry Potter fandom and the Marauders fandom to be two wildly different beasts.

More about me under the cut:

I'm a LOUD AND PROUD HUFFLEPUFF! BADGERS UNITE! Seriously, literally every test I have ever taken, Pottermore or otherwise, good and bad, has put me in Hufflepuff. I am so agressively Puff it's not even funny. My secondary house is Ravenclaw, and my Ilvermorny house is (probably) Pukwudgie.

My favorite Marauder is Remus Lupin because I am basic and predictable. My favorite HP character in general is Ginny Weasley. Which leads into the next point:

I am very much a book fan, not a movie fan. I've read all the books at least 5 times, but have read the Sorceror's Stone and The Prisoner of Azkaban more times than I can count. I have watched the first 3 movies all the way through once and have only seen the later movies in bits and pieces. I don't hate them, but they're not my favorites.

In case you didn't catch it in that last paragraph, I'm American, and nothing I write will be Britpicked. Sorry.

While I loved Harry Potter as a kid and have a deep emotional attachment to it, it is a children's book with a LOT of worldbuilding and story issues. I like to use the world and magic as a sandbox to play in, less as a strict rule.

I don't really care too hard on ships. My aroace ass honestly says "the less you focus on it the better," but if you write it well, any dynamic can be good. That said, my usual likes are as follows:

Marauders: wolfstar (I'm basic trash), jily (again, basic trash), peter thinks everyone is hot but never gets to seriously date anyone r.i.p., marlene mckinnon/mary macdonald (although marlene has a fat crush on Dorcas Meadowes that never really goes away), Dorcas Meadowes/Pandora Lovegood, and optional Rosekiller but I get sad if we spend too much time with the Slytherins.

HP: Ron/Hermoine, Ginny/Harry if you like or Ginny/Luna if you don't, dislike Tonks/Lupin but I don't care that much, and I really really don't give a shit about anyone else.

I hate muggle AUs with a burning passion (no shame if you like them, just not my cup of tea), but I do like it when we get to let the wizards use muggle tech and in general be more integrated into the muggle world.

Peter Pettigrew is a marauder and I will DIE on this hill. I will defend this slimy turncoat disaster rat man to the end of my life. Please fight me, I'm excited.

I'm about to lose my goddamn mind scrolling through tags and looking for people to follow. Please reblog this or follow me first to make my life easier. Peace out!

[acupofqueercoffee]

“Make me proud”

Requests by @anonymous

Not sure if requests are open but I may have a fun one! 🤍 How about a Lesso/Reader where the reader gets placed into the school of evil, thinking and trying to convince everyone she's actually evil. But she's more of a "wholesome" evil. Not wanting to like... take over the world but more of a "hey... just curious... what's your favourite flower?" *the next day a person finds their favourite flower in a bouquet on their desk* kind of evil. Like "evil but the motive is you're happy". Technically very manipulative which is probably what ended her up in the school!

Umm you're literally sooo talented, I was just reading a Lady Lesso fic I'm crying you write angst so well 😭 I loveee angst. Would you be willing to write someday for a Never reader whose parents were Evers so they're like kinda abusive? (you don't have to go in detail since the reader is in school anyway). So maybe there's holidays and the reader doesn't want to go home or something like that and Lady Lesso comes to the rescue. Ofc it would be platonic. 💕 If you can't write it I completely understand btw! I looove your work!

i hope you guys don’t mind that i combined your requests. i just thought they would go well together. i honestly couldn’t get into detail for the first prompt. i hope you’ll still find it satisfactory! my god, seriously, genuinely thank you so much for all the compliments 🥹🫶🏻 i’m literally all over the moon 💕

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Evermore. A family famed not only for having the quintessential traits of an ever, but also for always being enrolled into the school for good.

They have been upholding this tradition for generations upon generations. In the course of history, never have there been a case of an Evermore becoming a never.

Well, at least, not until you, the only Evermore child of your parents, find yourself drenched like a rat and floating in the moat, the hauntingly dark castle of the school for evil standing before your very eyes. The black water surrounding you splashes and ripples as more and more students keep plummeting.

And just like that, you are absolutely royally fucked.

It has started out rough, your journey at the school for evil. Everyone has given you a weird look on the first day. Oh no, it certainly has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you have been sticking out like a sore thumb amongst cool goths with your flamboyantly fancy gown. During the first assembly alone, you have caught the evil dean rather blatantly burning holes into you with her scalding gaze, nose wrinkled and brows furrowed as if repulsed by your very presence. If looks could kill, you would have definitely perished right then and there.

It does not take you, a goody two shoes as your peers like to tease you, long to prove yourself.

Although it has not been ideal for a confetti bomb to be an evil student’s choice of weapon, it has splendidly done its job of distracting your opponent. That little distraction has been all you need to catch them off guard, avoiding their impending attack by sliding through the gap between their legs, and from behind, striking the back of their head with the heavy hilt of your sword. In the twinkling of an eye, they fall to the floor unconscious.

And that is that. The end.

You do not want to be presumptuous but you swear you have seen your dean’s lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile. As your eyes trail further down, you catch her fingers tapping against the back of her hand, that is maintaining a firm grip on her cane, almost as if she is clapping for you in the most subtle of ways.

As far as you are aware, the last time your eyes have wandered off to the direction of the dean just before your confetti bomb explodes, she has been looking positively stressed, fingers on her forehead as she shakes her head disapprovingly. The knowledge that you must have made your hardly sway-able dean proud makes you tremendously proud and all gleeful.

Your little triumph has left you surrounded by your fellows the rest of the day. The next day, a girl in your classroom has miraculously found a big bouquet of flowers on her desk. You are just minding your own business when she comes up to you, asking if you want to hang out with her that afternoon. You have agreed, and just like that, you have gained a new never friend.

Adjusting into your new life has been relatively easy for you. You have even done a good job at it. To be unreservedly frank, from the very beginning, you do not mind being sorted into the school for evil. You have always found yourself never fully fitting in with your family, but, since your parents have always appeared so jolly reminiscing about good old days at their alma mater, and subsequently, stubbornly convinced that you will be following their steps, you have thought it best to keep quiet, not wanting to disappoint, or argue with them for that matter.

Honestly, you have never really quite understood why your family is so obsessed with upholding the tradition of always being evers, but you have believed, you have foolishly, naively believed that your parents will understand, that they will, for once, hear you out, that they will accept you for being who you are, ever or never, because at the end of the day, you are still their flesh and blood. Their only child.

“You are a disgrace to the Evermore family.”

Those words have come out of the very mouth of your own mother who has once called you her sweet little sunshine. You have been immediately declared the black sheep of the Evermore family just because you become a never, and the reality that you are but a mere pawn even to your own parents gives you the blues. It has been a bitter pill to swallow. For a while, the sadness follows you around like a shadow, but surprisingly, quicker than you can imagine, you have found tranquility in the darkness, and by the end of the week, all you see when you think back on the incident is red, a bright, burning red.

In the wee hours of the night, the school is hauntingly quiet, but today especially more so, bar the swooshes and whooshes of the arrows being released from your bow, for many have returned home for the Christmas holidays. The moon is in her prime, high on the sky. Courtesy of her soft ethereal glow, you are made aware of the presence of another, as a new shadow is casted on the ground.

“Hello, Lady Lesso.” You greet without turning, releasing another arrow that, yet again, embeds itself in the bullseye.

“Evermore.” When you turn and smile at her, she acknowledges. “You’ve been at it for hours.”

“Have you been stalking me professor?” You challenge, wiping the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand.

To your surprise, she hands you a towel that seems to have appeared out of nowhere, but after a second thought, you conclude that she must have brought it with her.

“I was simply keeping an eye on you.” The dean points around with her cane as if to emphasise her point. “It’s an ungodly hour to be practising archery.”

After a moment, she asks. “What’s bothering you?”

You sit on the grass, lies down. The stars look awfully pretty tonight.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Hmm.” With a hum, she approaches you, once again surprising you by sitting down beside you. “I see that you’ve stayed behind for Christmas.”

“Yes, well, let’s just say I’m in a bit of a sticky situation.”

“Do you want to talk?”

At this, you look at her, and find that her eyes have never left your face.

“Will you listen, Lady Lesso?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to listen, would I?”

A smile forms on your lips while a sigh escapes your lips.

“My family, that’s what’s bothering me. Scared as I was, I was also hopeful at first that perhaps they would understand. But then, I was devastated and sad when they rejected me instead of encouraging me for finally embracing my true self.” Unable to hold her gaze any longer, you aim yours back at the sky. “Now though, all I feel is anger and,…and bitter resentment. Frankly professor, I don’t think I want to do anything with them anymore. It was not me but them who shunned their own flesh and blood. I don’t want to go back to a family that can’t even accept me for who I am.”

Once you are done talking, it feels as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

“You are not wrong, Evermore. I do however want you to know that you can always talk to me should you need anything. I may be evil but I’m still a teacher. I care.” Your dean’s words of encouragement have been like a soothing balm on your strained soul.

Even though you like to believe that you are not hurting anymore, when all is said and done, it, of course, is not entirely true. You have been your parents’ little sunshine after all. It baffles and wounds you all the more just how easily they can become indifferent to you. It is as if everything they have said and done, all the things that the three of you have been through together after all this time means as much as rubbish to them.

Without your parents in your life, some things can, and will never be the same again.

Which is why your dean’s words truly, truly mean a lot. You can feel that they come from deep within, uttered with sincerity.

“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, but can you promise me one thing, Evermore?”

You gaze follows her as she moves to stand, cane returning back to its rightful place by her side.

“Make me proud.” She says, thrusting a hand out for you to take. There is a smile on her lips, a warm, easily discernible smile, and witnessing it makes your lips stretch into a bright, beam.

“I will.” Your hand slips into the dean’s. She holds it tight, helps you onto your feet. “I promise.”

“You know Lady Lesso, you’re surprisingly very kind and considerate for someone so evil.” You remark while gathering your things, uttered without even noticing yourself.

So, by the time her cane lands on your buttocks, it has caught you off-guard. Jolted into puzzlement, you stare at her, wide-eyed. “Say that again and I’ll chop your tongue off.”

“Yes ma’am!” You make a show of zipping and locking your mouth before dramatically throwing the imaginary key into the pond.

Although the dean has shaken her head at your silliness, she has smiled at it all the same.

“Come.” And go, you do, like a lost puppy being guided into safety. “I’ll make you a cup of hot cocoa. It’s Christmas after all.”

You may have decided to spend your Christmas away from your own flesh and blood, a family of evers, who cannot even appreciate you for who you are, but your Christmas has never been warmer, spent under the wing of a practical stranger, your wickedly evil never professor who cares infinitely more about you than your ever parents ever can.

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[bloggingboutburgers]

What’s the difference between being aro/ace and being a prude? Not trying to be rude I just notice people use that argument when saying asexuality isn’t real

...Not sure if troll or an actual question but OK there we go

Being a prude is a personality trait.

Being aro or ace is an orientation you're born with.

One doesn't imply the other. You can be any orientation and be a prude.

But also, beyond that:

The prude personality trait has been, from what I can reason, built off very heteronormative, conservative and dare I say, often Christian views about what should be "proper" and what isn't. It's built out of pre-constructed notions of what is socially acceptable or not, which, mind you, are notions that are harmful to asexuals and aromantics, as they are to any queer person.

See, often times, being a prude doesn't mean you don't care for sex - you just don't care for the public display of it, but you also see it as something that SHOULD happen in very specific conditions. Prudish thinking, more often than not, sees sex as a daring reward that should happen only in private, under very specific conditions (often marriage) and that has to lead to conservatively and socially tangible results (a "happy" marriage, whatever that means, or especially, offspring).

So while being a prude is a case of "Sex, sure, but not like this, and don't talk about it to people", asexuals who are sex repulsed like me are instead like "Sex? Nope. Not ever. No thanks." And that's not even mentioning sex-positive asexuals, who WILL have sex and just not feel any sexual attraction or desire, just going along with it because it's a dynamic that works well with their partner, or because they're curious to know about it, or so on.

Let's also not forget that being a prude may not limit itself to sex talk. It actually extends to everything that isn't considered "socially proper" by traditional standards. I speak my mind kinda gratuitously, swear profusely and don't bother with "manners" all that much. A prude wouldn't like that of me. I also happen to have zero interest about sex. That doesn't make me a prude.

[strwbmei]

Started playing PTN again. Might add to the character list once I get further along the story/find out more about the characters.

(LOTS of rambling below:)

But also. I absolutely HATE Ted and I was so disappointed when the gray-haired girl didn't kill him. Me personally, if I were the chief, I would've done it myself. Funny how Ted somehow manages to be far more repulsive than any sinner out there. He's absolutely disgusting. I was sick to my stomach when they implied that he wasn't only abusing the girl mentally/physically, but also sexually. Not even just Ted himself, but he also let (and probably encouraged) his men to do the same. The girl didn't even look older than 12 and she was covered in wounds that they didn't even bother to treat/dress properly.

I was FUMING when the Yagsu (Yasgu? Yusga?) guy tried to get the Chief to hand over Hecate and Hella to be "trained" the same way the gray-haired girl did. He even praised Ted for how he practically turned a sinner into his slave and said that Hella and Hecate "are at the perfect age to be trained" when they aren't even 18. Even Zoya, an S-Class sinner, has more morals than him.

On a more wholesome note, I really love the relationship between the Chief and her Sinners. The Chief lost her memories, and the Sinners have never experienced being treated with such kindness before. Even though the Chief has her shackles, she still chooses to treat the Sinners with the same respect as she would any other person. The Chief cares for them so much, and both parties trust the other with their lives.

When the Yagsu guy beat the Chief up, Hecate and Hella were ready to start a war. In particular, the way Hella was so concerned for the Chief made me feel so... warm? inside. The tone of voice she used and how soft it was (I'm using the JP dub), along with how genuine she was being was so wholesome to see. My reaction is probably a bit overkill, but it's probably because I've never had someone show so much concern for me and it affected me more because it was Hella of all people who showed so much genuine concern when she's usually so brash and almost rude to the chief. Speaking of the Chief, I love her. She's so sexy and smart and witty.

But also Hella and Ninety-Nine's relationship is so cute. They're like siblings! But of course, PTN is allergic to happiness so they both have tragic backstories and fates. I was so close to breaking into tears when I saw this doodle in a maze stage. I swear to GOD if anything happens to them I will go mad.

[cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme]

Rules (Re-vamped for new added fandoms, rules, prefrences, Master List, and Current Works)

(Re-vamped for new added fandoms, rules, and prefrences)

“I never ask a man what his business is, for it never interests me. What I ask him about are his thoughts and dreams.”-Howard Philips Lovecraft

Hello I'm Mr. Cosmic, I am a Romantic Asexual Man (Not sex repulsed, I actually find the concept of sex and how deeply it is ingrained in humanity fascinating) my birthday is September 26th, My favorite food is Spaghetti and Garlic Bread (I know I know, Asexuals and garlic bread), my favorite drink is home made Mountain Tea, I love writing romantic and fluffy things but I also may right angst if I'm in the right mood, My favorite bands are Queens Of The Stone Age, Arctic Monkeys, Franz Ferdinand, Iron Maiden, Nujabes (RIP), Megadeth, Rob Zombie, and Foo Fighters, I hope we can all get along!

I take recommendations for shows to watch and add to the list of fandoms and music to listen to while I write (I am partial to fast paced songs, but I also enjoy slower ones)

I am also associated with the @favonius-library and @ecrin-de-litterature

ASKS ARE: CLOSED

CURRENT NUMBER OF ASKS: 300

One Hundred One Word Prompts

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ALL OF MY CURRENT WORKS

ALL OF MY CURRENT WORKS PT.2

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My Pet Peeves For Asks

One Of My Pet Peeves For Asks: Fighters, Not Body Builders

Rules

I only write romance for female characters but I'm perfectly fine with writing platonic male relationships (There are a few exceptions but most of the time this is the rule of thumb to go by)

I write for G/N, Male, and Female readers

Like any other Tumblr I reserve the right to reject asks

Be Respectful.

Do Not Hate On People In The Comments!

No Homophobia, Transphobia, etc. etc.

If You Have A Question About A Post Ask In The Comments Of The Post please.

No Politics!

I prefer to write for Ladies but I will do guys once in a blue moon if they're a part of the ask.

Due to a recent attempt to write trans readers and the anxiety attack which affected my willingness to write I have made the decision to (For the moment this may change though it is unlikely) not write Trans readers there is nothing wrong with Trans People I just feel like I can't portray them properly.

IF ONE MORE GODDAMN FUCKING PORN BOT OR BLANK BLOG FOLLOWS ME I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD I WILL GO ON A GODDAMN PURGE SO PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD CUSTOMIZE YOUR TUMBLR OR I MIGHT ACCIDENTALLY BAN HAMMER YOU!!! Please, if you have a question or an ask, ask me the question in the INBOX not in my MESSAGES. My MESSAGES are for my mutuals to talk to me. Not to receive asks through, that is what the ASK BUTTON is for. If I continue to receive asks in my MESSAGES I WILL start blocking people.

FANDOMS

Fate Grand Order and TYPE-MOON in general

Genshin Impact

Honkai Star Rail

Zenless Zone Zero

Reverse 1999

Goddess Of Victory: Nikke

Arknights

Blue Archive

Girls Front Line

Limbus Company

Lobotomy Corporation

Library Of Ruina

Bloodborne

Elden Ring

Baldur’s Gate 3

Senran Kagura

Danganropa

Persona 3

Persona 4

Persona 5

Shin Megami Tensei

Dungeon Fighter Online

Dungeon Fighter Duel

River City Girls

Tekken

King Of Fighters

Guilty Gear

Granblue Fantasy

Blazblue

Skullgirls

Darkstalkers

Under Night In Birth

Street Fighter

Resident Evil

Final Fantasy

Fear & Hunger

Fear & Hunger: Termina

Hi-Fi Rush

Trails Of Cold Steel

Bleach

Chainsaw man

Jujutsu Kaisen

RWBY

Ikki Tousen

Highschool DxD

(To Be Added)

What I Will Do

Character x Reader

All of the dere's (Yandere, Kudere, Tsundere, Goudere, Masodere, Sadodere etc. etc.)

Poly

Character x Multiple (Separate from Poly, NSFW only Ex. Free Use)

Platonic Relationships

NSFW (If You Want a Specific Kink You Have To Ask)

(More To Be Added)

What I Won’t Do

Underage

Non-Con (I might do CNC)

Kinks like Scat and Vore

NTR

(More To Be Added)

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[loveharlow]

WICKED

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS ‧₊˚ [1.6k] Even though they called it quits months ago, JJ and Y/N just can't seem to leave each other alone, no matter who gets caught in the crossfire.

WARNING(S) ‧₊˚ swearing, they're both assholes in this, sexual references, mentions of/use of alcohol, toxic relationship, mild violence (drink throwing and literally one punch), slut shaming, mild dark themes

A/N ‧₊˚ Ooooh shiiit. I don't where this idea came from but I just needed more Dark!Reader in my life where the reader is this self-serving, bitch because I rarely ever see it. Also DISCLAIMER: I don't support that (unless necessary...), I'm joking! (Or am i?)

 ˗ˏˋ jj masterlist  ˎˊ˗

YOU WERE LAUGHING INTERNALLY. JJ Maybank had truly lost his mind if he thought the girl currently planted in his lap had even the smallest chance of making you jealous. Unfortunately for him, he was oh-so sorely mistaken. You knew who the blonde was the second you saw her. She’d dated half the guys on the island and was a regular touron.

Last you heard they were dating, JJ and her. Summer fling type thing. 

You were loitering by a tree, sipping on whatever was in the red solo cup in your hand, wearing the one dress you knew drove the blonde twenty feet away from you crazy. It was a birthday gift from him.

You were sure you were staring — glaring, more accurately. But you didn't care.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” An assertive feminine voice spoke from beside you. The slight brush of light brown hair in your peripheral revealing the girl to you without requiring you to turn your head.

Chuckling, the sound echoing into your cup, you tilted your head up to continue staring daggers into the side of JJ’s head as you spoke to my best friend. “I won’t, Kie.”

“You say that every time and you still find some way to do something so…”

Raising one perfect eyebrow, a sly smirk edging it’s way onto your lips, you made some move to face her. “So what?”

She had a deadpan expression. “So you.”

You feigned hurt, cringing as she rolled her eyes and took a sip from her own cup. "Don't be such a downer. I can be a good girl for one night."

She simply scoffed and you could see her shake her head in the corner of your eye as she let her back fall against the tree as well. Your mood dampened as you swished the alcohol in your cup around while watching the girl plant kisses on JJ's cheek.

Your lips curling into a disgusted snarl as you made a gagging sound. "Oh, fuck me." I muttered, repulsed. Kie let out a sigh as I tried to mask the anger that was bubbling.

Kiara knew very well of the dynamic between JJ and yourself. You had been dating on and off for about 2 years but this break-up had lasted longer than the rest, bordering on three months now. However, she knew just how tightly you each other wrapped the other's finger.

You loved each other but were both so terrible at showing it. So you decided if he wanted to have his little fun with this moron on his lap for the night then fine. But at the end of the day, your mind reminded you that it’s always going to be you and him.

So, when the touron in question was stumbling off of his lap and over to the keg that wasn’t too far away, your own cup was downed, tossed, and forgotten. Abandoned to the sand as you straightened out your dress and Kiara made protests behind you, reaching out to grasp onto your upper arm before she was gently shrugged off.

Turning back to her with a mischievous smile that told her everything she needed to know, you winked and set off in the direction of your ex-boyfriend who was finally sitting alone.

Propping yourself into the chair next to him, you could see his jaw clench before he even looked at you.

You turned so you was facing him — one leg crossed over the other as your elbows rested upon the arm of the chair and your face rested in your palms. “Why so tense? Are you not having a good time?”

He now had a cigarette in his hand as he brought it up to his lips. He knew you couldn't stand the smell of them.

You admired him from the side for a few moments and drew your attention behind him. About fifteen feet away, his little 'girlfriend' was struggling to figure out how to use the keg.

If she was anyone else, you would help. But as of right now? She was kind of stepping on your toes. Not that she had a chance of whisking JJ away from you. Never. She was just in the way, making things more difficult than usual, and quite frankly, you wanted her gone.

So, she could struggle. You couldn’t care less. There are other poor souls at this party that would help her out, you were sure.

Averting your gaze away from her and back to JJ, you noticed something. Reaching your hand up to his hair when he suddenly gripped your nimble wrist just as you'd pinched the object between your fingers.

“What the hell are you doing?” Tilting your head down and plastering an unamused expression on your features, you struggled against his grip to bring your hand down and into his line of vision, a small brown leaf clasped between your fingers. Then, he was rolling his eyes and releasing your wrist while you made to throw the leaf to the ground.

Suddenly growing bored of this company-keeping game, your head rested in your hands as you whistled and looked around, ultimately deciding to take initiative. Reaching over and snatching the disgusting stick from his fingers, you threw it to the sand and stepped on it as you rose from your own chair to round his and plant yourself on his lap.

He spat your name, a hard expression on his face. Jaw tense, veins popping in his neck.

“For someone who wants me to go away so bad, you seem to enjoy my company.” You spoke cockily, motioning to his hands that were already subconsciously grasping your hips.

“Why do you always do this?” He spat angrily, looking into your eyes that were wide — innocent. Your hands were over his shoulders and playing with the hairs at the back of his neck. “Why do you make it so hard for me to move on?” He hissed, his blue eyes raging with a passionate fire behind them.

“Why do you make me chase you?” You snarled, your seductive nature quickly flipping into one of frustration as your gentle touch switched to one where your hands were fisting into the back of his hair to pull his gaze further up. Your eyes setting into a stone-cold glare as you clenched your teeth. 

However, no matter how negative of an emotion you were displaying, your face always held some kind of innocence to it. Maybe that's what gave you the upper hand in this whole ordeal — the fact that he, nor anyone else, could ever tell what you were really feeling. Because that means you were a little less predictable than you thought.

You truly hated when JJ had to see this side of you — the part of you that lived and breathed for him. The part of you that wouldn't let him go.

But for some reason, you felt that, tonight? He deserved it all.

“You’re jealous. And possessive. And I don’t know how to handle you.” He gritted through his teeth, his own hands now on your thighs as he gripped onto them harshly, his short nails leaving moon-shaped marks in his wake.

“You’re wrong.” You said softly, your demeanor doing a complete 180 as your deadly glare went from that to one of innocence. Your fists loosening in his blonde locs and trailing back down his neck all the way down to his chest, stopping right above the waistband of his shorts. Leaning in so your lips were centimeters from his ear. “You're the only one who can." You whispered, not giving him a moment to reply as your lips dove for his neck, leaving harsh, biting kisses in the crook of it.

You could hear him biting back moans, his neck flexing under your lips as his grip on your thighs tightened, a burning sensation starting to make itself known between your legs and an erection growing prominent underneath you.

“Do you love me, JJ?” You spoke tantalizingly, even though you knew the answer. 

“I do.” He croaked out, leaning back to give you better access as you continued to leave kisses. “I shouldn’t, but I do.”

“Then say it.”

...

“I love you.”

Smiling and cupping his cheek. “I know.” You remarked, leaning in to rest your forehead against his own. "Now, get rid of that Ms. Lips-A-Lot before I do it myself." You muttered lowly before roughly clashing your lips with his — the taste of alcohol, fruit, and cigarettes remaining ever present in the exchange. Biting your bottom lip to separate it from the top as he pulled your frame closer, if even possible. 

You started to slowly grind yourself against him, earning a guttural yet low moan into the kiss as he slightly bucked his hips. Enough movement to get friction between you two but not to be noticed by the entire party. Though, if someone did happen to notice, it wouldn't stop either of you.

“What the hell?”

Breaking the kiss slowly, the blonde girl that JJ had waltzed in here with was now standing near you both. A thin and barely visible string of saliva still connecting you to him as your hair framed your face, seeing as it was held down to hide the smirk on your face as the girl was looming over both of you, fuming.

Your only goal was to stake your claim and get her to back off by any means necessary. What ever happened afterward would be none of your concern as long as she was out of the way, and soon. You didn't care if that meant her leaving the island or deciding to stay in her hotel the rest of her trip, wallowing in a summer heartbreak.

So as far as tonight goes, your job was done. You weren't going to taunt her or twist the knife any further. She'd seen everything she needed to and everything you wanted her to.

Getting off of JJ’s lap, he'd tried to hold you in place but ultimately let you go. You made no moves to acknowledge the girl as you wiped your bottom lip and set off back to where you were moments prior, also where Kiara happened to still be standing and staring at me with a look of disapproval. 

You were a few feet away, at most, before you heard the girl mutter something under her breath. 

“Fucking slut.” JJ must’ve sensed what you was going to do before you did it because you don’t even recall turning around, hearing him begin to say “Don’t”, before you was snatching the girl’s own cup out of her hand, splashing it in her face and reeling your free hand back, swinging it forward to sock her in the nose, the harsh connect making an audible crunching sound. 

The party's attention was stolen for a few seconds as 'oohs' and curses rang out through the crowd and the girl stumbled on the sand.

You weren't going to take it much further than that. You spent too much time on your hair and outfit to mess it up for some girl who wouldn’t be on this island after summer was over. So as, what you presume were her friends attended to her bleeding nose and shouted obscenities at you, you threw the cup to the ground and turned right back in the direction you were headed in the first place.

But not before stopping next to JJ, who had his jacket that was previously slung over his chair on his lap to hide his very visible boner, and planting a hand on his forearm. “Door’s open. Parents are gone for the week.” You proclaimed, walking off after flashing the blonde a smile. 

A/N: Touron: Fucking slut

Y/N: You raise the phone, take a fast step back, step forward, step back, and swing!

LMAO IF YOU GET THE REFERENCE IM SO SORRY^

General taglist;@livlaughquinn 

JJ Maybank Taglist; @ronnieissupermegafoxyawesomehot @maybankslover 

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

©loveharlow

[fictive-culture]

fictive culture is STOP SEXUALIZING ME I SWEAR TO GOD WHY IS THERE SO MUCH ART OF ME BEING SEXUALIZED WHAT THE FUCK. OK I GUESS SOURCE IS TECHNICALLY AN ADULT (19-20) BUT STOP!!!!!!!

- sex-repulsed asexual hero omori fictive who keeps running into the most god awful sexualizing fanart (and most of the time they're suppose to be "memes" as if there's anything funny about making me.....like that 💀)

.