#tw: daisy's destruction

[callmefreakfujiko]

TW: Venting about Daisy's Destruction, because I know what Daisy looks like for some fucking reason. (Through Youtube thumbnails.)

Some context: Somebody brought up the guy who posted screenshots of that CSA hurtcore video on Twitter who Musk unbanned, wondering who he is and why people hate him. I told them, but I knew that people would be morbidly curious so I looked for the video I watched years ago on the man behind that video.

So I looked this video up a few years ago when I was searching for a disturbing lost anime that probably doesn't exist. (Somebody mentioned it and I thought it was another disturbing lost anime. It was not.)

So the video is of Eleanor Neale talking about what she knows about the man behind that video and his victims. He's horrible and I felt sick, but I thought that the way she dealt with the topic was pretty respectful, all things considered. I wanted to link to her video for those who's morbidly curious but don't want to come across some shit they don't want to see.

By doing so I saw something I didn't want to see- Daisy's face. Apparently the video's been found since I've watched Eleanor's video.

There are a couple of Youtubers who used her face with only a censor bar covering her eyes. You can still clearly see the fear and anguish in her body language. I did not want to know what this child looked like in her most vulnerable moments of her life. Were cropped screenshots shared around, or do these two people actually have the video?!

I reported both videos, obviously. (I didn't click on them, which does mean that I have less options when I'm reporting them. I can't give a detailed report, for example. I still refuse to click on the videos.) I would say who they are but I don't anybody to see the poor little girl in that state, censored or not.

Here's the video by Eleanor Neale if you want to know what the fuck I'm talking about. You probably don't, but if you think you do I'll save you the trouble of potentially seeing the little girl when she was a baby by linking to a considerably respectful video on the man behind the video.

[traumatizeddfox]

What on earth is daisys destruction /gen

TW// CP / CSA abuse mention - please read with caution

Please do not look it up for ur sanity, it's horrific CP, but to basically summarize it up. It was a video on the dark web where an 18 month old baby was sexually abused in the most horrific ways by Peter Scully and his two girl friends. I haven't seen the video obviously but I saw a video talking about it on Youtube and it's literally so disturbing what they did to this poor baby. Peter is in jail now, but what happened to Daisy was the most horrendous shit ever. To put it as bluntly as I can. Basically BDSM torture on a 18mnth old. Daisy luckily survived but i'm not sure about her physically and mental state. I'm pretty sure she will be forever scarred, and i really don't know what happened to her other than the fact that she is safe. She would be about 13 now I believe. I pray for her every day.

The video occasionally gets brought up where I see people asking for the link as if its not literal CP and a crime to view, but besides that it makes me so fucking angry for this child. There were other victims to, a lot of other kids. This man literally made cp on the dark web where he would sell it for $10k, made a pedophilia ring, and he has no remorse. he's so disgusting and deserves to be k*lled.

If you are interested in the case, you can look it up on youtube but do not if CSA, child abuse, rape, CP, torture etc is very triggering

[zsimpforlightyagami]

I just watched Girl, Interrupted and I now understand why so many liked it-

w movie

[bambidoll777]

Just got diagnosed with Anorexia..

[tobe0]

[isywz]

i am frankestein, the scarred girl

no one will love me anymore ,

with all this pain etched all over my body.

oh god, let the blood absorb my sins,

so I can escape hell, but am I not already living it?

[savebatsfromscratch]

Day 30 - Tears Smudged Like Ink on a Whiteboard

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42745575

-

Summary: Daisy has trauma because of an incident with some Team Rocket grunts. Unfortunately, Bill isn't there to help her. (Not yet anyway.)

-

Note: I love these two and I had a great time writing them last Whumptober, so why not do it again? XD This goes out to the two Teashipping fans out there.   Also I tested out another writing style because why not. I probably won’t write in it again but I like reading these so…

Cws and Tws: Implied past rape, suicidal thoughts, self harm contemplation, swearing

Words: 1,441

Prompt: NOTE TO SELF: DON'T GET KIDNAPPED | Manhandled | Hair Grabbing | “Please don’t touch me.”

Fic (under the cut):

Daisy, a medium height woman in her twenties, with hair that dripped over her shoulders like a waterfall, was crying. She clutched her knees to her chest, shaking with the force of the sobs that tore through her heart. Her forehead rested on her knees, and her back touched the wall behind her, flower print wallpaper to purple sweater, a strange poetry that spoke of her pain.

The room around her was lonely, dark walls pressing in like all those horrible hands, shuttered windows shaking and crashing in the wind as if fighting some invisible enemy, and a ruffled bed, shaken by what had metaphorically broken it. Her bookshelf was dusty from a lack of activity, and she feared that her carpet crawled with bugs (those which broke through and grabbed her). Even the soft flowers of her wallpaper, or the champion ribbons clipped to the wall, or even the shining wedding ring on her finger made her feel any better. (In fact, that last one only made her feel worse.)

She couldn’t bring herself to think about it, couldn’t bring herself to remember what had happened to her. (Even the thought of telling herself not to think made her hips ache and her arms dirty.) Why her? What had she ever done to deserve such treatment?

She buried her face even further into her knees as she cried harder. No matter how hard she fought the memories, they still slipped their horrible tendrils into her mind, making her stomach turn and her eyes red with tears. A hand in her hair, the sensation of being thrown against a wall, the blankness of a memory she refused to remember. 

She wanted to hurt something, wanted to kill something even, but there was nothing but herself in the room. (And she refused to let herself even contemplate something like that. …or at least she wanted to think that she did.)

She felt like nothing more than old doll, well ‘loved’ and tossed down a fucking industrial food shreder. Her hair was a tangled mess against her neck, and her nails were broken from all the scratching and punching that she refused to think about the cause of. Her throat ached from her crying, and her mind was so inside out that she couldn’t think of anything that could help her. 

Besides Bill, of course

Oh how she wished he was here. That man always knew what to do to comfort her, always obeyed her wishes, always did his very best to understand her. (Unlike some other people that she could think of.) Even if his sandy brown hair was always in a rat’s nest, his heart was full of nothing but care and love for everyone around him. (And it made Daisy feel a smidge better when she remembered that that love was mainly directed towards her.)

But of course a ‘smidge’ better was nothing against the crushing despair that came with her most recent memories. It would have been quite naive to believe otherwise. So she just had to sit there, head buried in her knees as she cried, wishing and hoping for a prince that she knew would be out until nighttime. (That’s what happened when your house was in Pallet Town, literally no one could get to you.)

No one could help you.

No one to help.

…

Bill, the short-ish man in his twenties, received the frantic communicator text in the middle of an experiment, and hadn’t been able to read it until the reaction was completed. Once he was able to however, he immediately regretted waiting.

As he raced to his Pokeballs (reaching for the Farfetched that he knew could carry him) he couldn’t even force himself to think about the words, think of the horror that his soon-to-be wife must be going through. His lip was already bleeding from biting it so hard, and his entire body shook with rage. 

Who had done this to her?! Why her?! 

“Farfetched!” He commanded, the very second the Pokemon hit the ground (thankfully he was outside at the moment), “Fly me to Pallet Town!” 

The bird looked scared, (probably sensing his urgency, but immediately scooped him up. Its small wings had to beat hard to keep the two of them in the air, but they had to go even faster to go as fast as it knew it needed to. Bill was distantly thankful for that, but his mind was racing to fast to focus on anything but his rage and terror.

His fiance.

Daisy.

How could this happen to her?

He fought the urge to dig his fingers into something (Farfetched didn’t deserve that) and instead expressed his anger with a scream. He wanted to kill something. (Particularly those evil men that would see a woman and pounce on her, using their stolen weapons and impossible wealth to hurt any person that they saw. And for what? A couple moments of horror while they bathed ever closer to rot in the earth?)

But more than his lust for vengeance, Bill was terrified for Daisy. Who knows what was going through her head? Who knows what horror gripped her heart and mind? He certainly didn’t. And that was what scared him. He had to get to her. He had to help.

So when his feet touched down on the grass in front of her house, with its rusty red roof and ivy covered walls, he didn’t even bother to put Farfetched back in its Pokeball, instead running as fast as he possibly could into the house. His hands fumbled with the key for an instant, but he burst through the door only a moment later.

“Daisy!” He screamed, “Where are you?!”

For a terrifying moment, there was no response, only the horrible ticking of the grandfather clock at the end of the hall. But then, in the voice of an angel who’d been beaten and bruised, he heard Daisy.

“Bill?” She called, muffled somewhat from both tears and a closed door, “Is that you?”

“It’s me!” He called, stepping through the door and closing to behind him, “Where are you?” The wallpaper was peeling.

“I’m in my room-” her voice was very hard to hear, getting quieter with each passing second, “I- I-,”

Bill didn’t waste a moment, walking as quickly as he could through the hall until he reached the door that he knew to be Daisy’s room. The door, as old and scratched up as it had ever been, was shut, but he could tell it wasn’t locked. He slowly turned the handle, hearing shuffling from inside as Daisy moved towards the door.

The room was dark, windows drawn and items strewn about, but Bill didn’t see any of the mess. He only focused on Daisy.

She was kneeling a few feet away from the wall, her hair thrown everywhere and her body limp with horror. Her hands were shaking and only shook more when he stepped into the room, keeping the door open behind him. He reached out to her, but she scooted backwards, her back hitting the wall with an audible thud.

“Please don’t touch me-!” she yelped, her face wet with tears and her eyes sharp with fear as she looked at him, cowering, “I-,” And then, as if realizing what had just happened, she put her face into her hands, defeated and shaking with rekindled sobs, “I’m sorry, I-”

Bill nodded, his heart aching as he dropped down onto his knees. With the light streaming in from behind him, he gave her his best comforting smile. “It’s okay,” he whispered, fully aware that it was not okay, “We’re gonna figure it out, okay?” He had to try his best to remain calm, as renewed anger at the monsters that had done this to her boiled in his gut. She looked so small, so pathetic, like a lost pidgey that had fallen out of its nest.

He just wanted her to be okay. Bill began to hum a song that he knew she liked, trying his best to help her calm down. (Though the horror in his own heart had faded ever so slightly, he doubted the same could be said for hers.)

But thankfully it was only a moment later that she was able to raise her head again. She nodded, taking in a deep breath as she looked up at him. She put on her best brave face. (Even as her tears still fell.) “Mmhm, we-” he started, her voice cracking to a stop and dying away. Bill mirrored her brave face, relaxing his body and nodding.

‘We’re gonna figure it out.’

End of fic notes: Dude this was so fun to write. I know that's probably really weird to say but I had to say it.

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „  AMBUSH TACTICS

tw. non/dubcon, stepcest, restraints/gags, praise, jealousy, threats of exhibitionism, age difference, arranged marriage, voyeurism, some manipulation wordcount. 7.8k

a/n. ♡ commissioned by the amazing @tink2kagome ♡ thank you thank youuuu a million for commissioning me!!! i said it but i just loved writing my guys again so much, it was so fuuunnnnn and i'm so happy you asked for this plot!! i really hope you like the story and that you love it! ♡♡♡ and ty so much lydz for beta-ing!

iwaizumi x fem!reader x oikawa

It’s a rainy day in August when your old house is pulled down. First the roof, slumped and tiles slid off, or broken, littered in your yard as the crane hooks into the back of it and yanks half of it to the side with the cloud of dust and wood splinters. It doesn’t fly very far because of the rain, instead making a gross, dirty looking sludge at the doorstep. Next are the walls, who pull apart rather easily for a house that stood upright for about 50 years before this. Ripped from the foundation and topped atop the daisies you played in when you were smaller. It doesn’t exactly paint a pretty picture.

But when you look up at your father for support, grabbing his arm with a slow, wobbly lip; he smiles down at you. Brushes a hand along your cheek and runs a comforting hand along your hair. The rain drums down hard around you both, as you look to your other side. To the soft face of the woman who put your father back together with gentle hands. You suppose you like her, and the way she seems to be crafted with finer lines than anything else around you. Flowery and spring like, she seems to stand out against the dim, gray sky and the noise of destruction surrounding you. She glances from her own umbrella to watch you— and flutters from under her own cover to come sit crouched down before you, looking from your father to you with a kind smile.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart. It’ll be okay.” Your -mom now, you suppose- gently runs her thumbs under your eyes and then finds a tissue to press to your nose, giving you the same soft treatment as your father did. “It’s only going to feel strange for a while, but you’ll love your new room! And you’ll love the new garden.” When she nods, you find yourself nodding back, putting on a brave face as you squeeze your dad’s hand a little tighter. As the old house is ripped from its foundations entirely and leaves behind a crumpled mess of building materials that will be cleared out sooner rather than later, you will yourself to agree.

The loud noises of the machine are silenced a bit by the ruckus the hard droplets are making on the taut fabric above your head; as both your parents do their very best to let your child’s tantrum pass by with a good ending. Then your step-mother stands up to let your father wrap his arm around her waist, both of them keeping you close. The dry circle under your feet is crowded, and though the air is chilly, you’re still warm. You look aside to follow the second dry circle up to feet, long legs, a straight posture and all the way to the face of your new brother; whose normally harsh brows are set slightly softer as he takes in the way your eyes and cheeks are a ruddy, shiny mess.

Hajime even does his very best to paint on an encouraging, if barely visible, smile for you, and barely raises his arm to offer you a little wave, like most older siblings placate a fussy child. But for some reason, he doesn’t look nearly as fed up with you as you’ve learned he looks with most things. It’s a sure attempt at being kind to his new kid sister, if nothing else. And you let the visual of that burn into the back of your head, before hiding your face into your father’s pant leg— all the novelties are a bit too much to process in the stickiness of a drowsy summer day.

+

Your room is the one across Hajime’s room, all the way around the corner at the end of the hall. As it happens, you happen to have similar hours of sleeping and waking— which often leads you to stumble into each other upon first opening your eyes. When you were still little, you’d skitter out of reach before he could so much as apologize, unused to him and the situation. Unused to sharing a house with anyone but your father. And Hajime would creep into the kitchen with the kind of slowness of someone trying not to spook a scared animal— careful to open the cupboards, careful to offer you breakfast.

He couldn’t do much, wasn’t actually that much older than you anyway. But even a couple years seemed like a lifetime of difference when you were small, and teenage Hajime, with all his stubborn but well-meaning attitude, sure as hell could’ve convinced you. Oikawa Tooru on the other hand, not so much. He was better with words than your brother was, but never seemed to use them to bring out anything constructive. You’d find him sprawled out over your couch on the days where their practice ran long, chowing down your mom’s freshly baked goods before anyone else. And you’d glare and stomp your feet from the corner of the room, but never get close enough to say much back.

Oikawa Tooru, for all you knew about it, couldn’t care less what you thought about him in the first place, and you were perfectly fine keeping it that way. It’s one of those evenings when you’re about ready to go to bed that you search for Hajime, and find him walking back from the garden with a familiar red-green-white ball in his practiced hands. That, and then a long whine from your living room. “Iwa-chan~” The lithe, melodic voice of your brother’s best friend fills the hall and you can’t help the pout that slips on.

“Ugh,” Hajime lets out, similarly disgruntled as you are, “I gotta go put the bikes in the garage first.” It’s not really said to you, but you feel the responsibility anyway, and puff your chest out a bit while balling your hands to fists.

“I can go see what he needs,” you’re saying before Hajime nii can ask, and it brings a slight smile to his pretty features, that he tries and miserably fails to school back into neutrality.

The grin that creeps onto his lips under his chuckled breath is automatic. “You do that. And if he gives you a hard time, you just tell him that your big brother will rip him to shreds.” The brunet gives you a little squeeze of encouragement, before walking past you to slip out the screen door and head to the driveway. Your steps are loud when you parade into your own living room and put your hands to your hips. Oikawa’s laying on the couch, long legs peeking over the one end as he’s propped up on one elbow, other hand in the cookie jar without so much as asking.

You’ve always known your mom to have a soft spot for the guy, inviting him in any time of the day for ‘putting up with Hajime’— but you once again have to argue it’s the other way around as he obnoxiously stuffs one of the perfectly-made, crumbling treats into his maw and barely stops chewing to acknowledge you. “‘Sup? You want one?” the honeyed brunet asks, voice easy and fluid as he picks up another and holds it out to you with a raised brow. Your pout grows more pronounced. You made those together with your mom, for your dad and Hajime only. Niichan’s only allowed to have certain amounts of sugar to go with his volleyball career— and here he is eating them all up before you’ve even had the chance to boast to your brother.

You hate him. You cross your arms over your chest as you keep glaring, and Oikawa doesn’t miss a beat when he notices you won’t respond. “Y’know —hm, these are good— I know you’re not technically blood related, but you sure act like your big brother. Same glare when I’m talking. Anyone ever -hm- tell y’that?” He doesn’t stop chewing as he sticks his long fingers into your flower-decorated container again and pulls out one of the almond cookies. You know your expression must sour even further, because finally Oikawa takes the hint and pushes himself up a little on the couch. “What?”

“You’re getting crumbs all over our house,” you settle on saying, frustrated even more at the fact he really isn’t. He’s put down a napkin, with a perfectly neat collection of cookie crumbs in the middle; you can’t help but say it despite that.

“Am not.”

“Are too,” you snap back, and grab your pajama top to fist your hands into the bottom of it.

Oikawa folds one of his long legs to stretch it to his chest, then lays it back over the end of the couch. “You’re mad.” He clicks his tongue, before finally shifting his attention from you to his phone. But even as he picks it up and starts scrolling something or the other, his voice is a soft melody that irks you. “You’re always so mad at me for no reason, imouto.”

“I’m not your imouto.”

“You’re Iwa-chan’s imouto.” He puts the face of his phone down on his chest to give you a dramatic stare, then pulls up his lip. “So it’s basically the same thing. I’ve known you since you were as big as my little toe.” Then he hides his gaze back in his phone to scroll some more, with that annoying ‘pat, pat, pat’ sound that his finger landing on the screen makes. “It’s a shame, because I really like you.” He does that annoying thing where he gives you a guilt-trippy sort of pout that you give little kids when you’re trying to get your way— and you sure are old enough to know you don’t want to even think about letting up now. “I always wanted a little sister. I only have a little nephew though.”

“If you’d have a little sister you’d probably scare her away because you’re so weird,” you end up biting back, walking over to grab the container from his lap and closing it nice and tight as he stares at you with a blank sort of expression. “Made these for my dad and niichan, not you.” If he wants to ask, he keeps quiet, going back to tapping on his phone like it’s something important, and you can’t help but think he’s most likely just annoying Hajime nii’s other friends or the team. You take a seat on the coffee table, guarding the cookies from him, and take a minute to watch the side of his face as he fiddles with the device, like you’re long forgotten.

Hajime nii told you before that Oikawa’s the star setter of the team, a trusted center and main captain. You’ve seen them play here and there, and have heard the whispers that go around. And as much as you’re unwilling to admit it out loud, there’s something -pretty- in his features. How the skin of his cheeks is a little rosy and rounder, how his long lashes angle out to make his eyes look so bright and defined and irises glittering gold under the right light, the set of his lips and jaw making him look always at ease. Even the way his brown hair is a little bouncier and has cute tufts that stick out like little sprouts growing from fresh soil.

You guess older girls than you would know better than you do when they whisper about how cute he is.

You guess your mom is right when she talks about how kind Oikawa Tooru looks, and your father sends you two a little glance with a certain glimmer in his eyes. But you sure as hell won’t admit it to him— and definitely not when niichan’s around.

Eventually your eyes fall to where his white jacket covers his throat, or not anymore, to the blood-speckled purple blotch that sits right on the side of his neck. You frown, and lift your top lip in mock disgust, then you reach a finger out to jab it a little accusatory into the discolored skin. “What’s that?”

“Aw,” Tooru jerks, dropping his phone to the side to scamper away from your touch. Then he looks at you, and lays his cheek to his shoulder to hide the touched area even further, suddenly looking a bit flustered. You’ve never seen him look that way before, so it even surprises you enough to back off for a moment, as Oikawa eyes you down. “Why are you all up in my face all of a sudden? Don’t you know that’s rude?”

You huff, and go to sit cross legged in protest. “I just asked what the hell you did to get hurt on your neck.”

Oikawa is slow to straighten up, and pulls his jacket collar up higher as he rolls his shoulder, then scratches his ear, then looks away entirely. He looks embarrassed, you note with some shock to your status quo. This isn’t how it usually goes. Oikawa, mister better-than-you, doesn’t hesitate or get shy. “It’s a secret. Besides, you don’t need to know because you’re -like, what- ten? ‘S none of your business.” You’re not ten.

“Pff, I already know what it is,” you lie through your teeth, “I’m not stupid.” You toss your hair over your shoulder, and look away too. There’s only so many things that interest Oikawa. One’s volleyball. Another is school. It’s highly unlikely either of those would cause him to throw a fuss. And the last is girls. You’ve only ever seen Hajime react in any similar way when your mom suggests any girl in his vicinity might like him. You take a shot in the dark as you put on a testy grin, and lean in. “It’s because of your girlfriend,” you drag out the word as you watch Oikawa’s cheeks and ears go a little red, his brows angling into a frown.

Hajime chooses that time to come back in, and you look over your shoulder to watch him toss his jacket off onto the back of a chair. “Don’t bully shitty-kawa too much, he’s still sensitive.” He wipes his still-red hands, most likely from practicing, on his pants before ruffling your hair. “The breakup ripped out his poor little heart.” There’s some sympathy on his face, but barely half a second passes before the corners of his lips twitch up, as he looks at his friend and then back at you. Oikawa doesn’t say anything, but goes more red in the face, and you can’t help but stare transfixed as he zips his training jacket up all the way and glares back at your big brother.

“It did not,” he says back in exasperation, before checking a phone notification and this time rolling his eyes.

Hajime crashes down on the other couch, and you grab the box of cookies to take a seat next to him. You’re a little quieter after that, can’t help but watch the infallible Oikawa Tooru actually showing a sign of real emotions. You choose to focus on Hajime instead, and place the remaining box on his lap with a smile. The brunet’s quick to thank you, squeezing your cheek and giving you a soft poke in the side, before sighing. “You should head to bed, or mom and dad will be mad at me.” You try to disagree, but he just grabs your face and angles it towards the kitchen. “Go brush your teeth, go on.”

You don’t like hanging out with them or anything… but you still stomp your feet as you make your way to wash your face as told.

When you come out of your door nowadays though, you’re always expecting to collide with a solid chest at your first step beyond your room. Of course, he doesn’t live here anymore. Moved out when he went to uni, and lived in some far away, hole-in-the-wall flat with two guys who smelled like sweat and weed for most of what you saw from them, for all four years he was getting his degree and leaving you the longing sibling still stuck at home. But you never really grew out of it. When he visits, it’s what you always remember the most.

You’re always expecting to see your big brother first thing when morning comes. Expecting Hajime to wrap an arm around your waist to catch you when you cling to him in full bedhead, no pants fashion; let him guide the both of you down the length of the hall as you take the walk from your rooms to the kitchen as the full minute of extra shut-eye that might get you through the day. And niichan no longer bothers to apologize when he steps on your feet or you both almost trip and fall over anything in your way— him taking the lead, always.

He’s always been more of a morning person, and you sadly can’t resent him for that. His mom chuckles any time he deposits you on the chair by the kitchen island and plops down beside you on his own. “Alright, sunshines, what'd you need?”

“Water.”

“Coffee,” you whine, as your dad enters the room and presses a quick kiss to the top of your head.

The morning’s barely started, or your intuition is on high alert when Hajime clears his voice and casts the man a cursory glance. “Did you guys get to talk to her about what you told me over the weekend?” It’s vague and entirely useless, so it’s instantly suspicious when both parents react with a similarly tight-lipped recollection. Your dad only gives your big brother a little shake of the head, picks up an apple from the fruits on the counter, and walks towards the door.

“Not yet. I figure this is the type of conversation the girls will have on their own time, Haji. And I don’t want to be in the firing line when she freaks out.” He doesn’t react much when you give him a squeaked ‘dad?!’ and gives you three a blown kiss. “Love you guys, I’m off to work!” It doesn’t take you a second after the door closes to glance incredulously at Hajime nii, then at your mom as she keeps her eyes on the pancakes in the pan.

“Mom?” you try, only to get a quick smile over her shoulder. She has the decency to look a little sheepish at least, placing a stack of pancakes on Hajime’s plate and then on yours too. Meanwhile, the spiky haired brunet to your side barely catches your eyes, before starting to eat. And you glare at the side of his face until he gets a little uncomfortable and turns your chair the other way. You don’t like being talked about behind your back. Not even if it’s in good faith, not even if you trust the three of them with your life.

Your mother doesn’t usually gossip like this, so you can’t help but think… Hajime’s still refusing to look at you, choosing to focus all his attention on a spare blueberry. And your mom seems to notice, because as she places your cup of coffee before you, she gives her son a look that you can only describe as —suspicious. He doesn’t speak though, and glaring doesn’t work. You poke and prod at the food in silence for a few minutes before your mom clears her voice.

“Did you hear that the girl who used to babysit you got married?”

You don’t look up, only shake your head in a slow, stubborn acknowledgement of her words. You really didn’t. Yachi was only a few years your senior, but she’d lived close enough to pop by a lot when Hajime couldn’t watch you. You don’t remember the last time you saw her though, so it’s no wonder you didn’t hear about it.

“I was talking about it with Tooru-chan’s mom.” There’s a little pause there, where both people seem to hold their breath, before she continues. “And how she hopes Tooru gets married soon. You know, she even said Tooru has shown interest in getting married sooner rather than later, but because he’s so busy with his career he doesn’t have a lot of time to date. Said something about having his mom arrange a marriage for him,” there’s a soft chuckle from Hajime to your side, but you can’t see the humor in it. Not when your stomach is sinking a little more with each word. “And well, I suggested-”

“Absolutely not,” you pipe up in a quiet voice, now suddenly renewed in your focus to slice your pancake into the most even slices possible. You don’t want either of them to see how flustered the mere idea of the implication has you, stomach rolling around like it’s flung off it’s imaginary hinges.

“Oh, come on, darling. You’ve always gotten along with Tooru since you were little, and your dad and I know you had a little crush—”

“I did not have a crush on Oikawa Tooru,” you stand up from your seat with a loud, scraping sound, mouth dropping open. “I could only stand him because he was Hajime nii’s friend, and- no offense -but I’m pretty fucking sure the guy would sooner marry his own reflection than consider getting married to his best friend’s little sister.” You can’t help but feel a little prideful when that pulls a snort out of Hajime, who’s now slowly taking sips of his glass of water and pretending not to be involved.

He runs a hand along his neck, and gives his mom a long look. “Told you she probably wouldn’t even think about it.” He doesn’t sound nearly as smug as he could, but you still fight the urge to give him a punch in the arm as you walk past him to go breathe some much needed fresh air.

You can hear him follow a few steps behind while you walk out the back door and drop down into a squat onto the grass to start stress-picking at little blue flowers that pop up among the greenery. Hajime has enough common sense to let you be though, sitting down far enough away not to be a bother, until you choose to turn to him. “And what about you?!” Your voice lilts up so much it ends in a pinched whisper more than the angry tone you start with. “You even so much as entertained the idea of me marrying your best friend? That’s weird—”

“You’re being dramatic,” your niichan says, and picks one of the flowers from your fingers, “Tooru really likes you. And I don’t care about that possessive bullshit, if anything it’s good.” It’s stupid- and your stupid brain is a traitor for even popping the image in your head for a second. But you can’t help but think it’s totally weird that he’s so on board with it. You want to shake him for selling you out, want to — ask him to keep you close and not let go a little longer. You know it’s selfish, but somewhere within you, you had hoped that you and Hajime nii had more time together. Knowing Tooru is of marrying age, means thinking about the prospect of the brunet before you being of marrying age too, and… 

You decide to ignore that thought as it comes to you, eyes flicking away to the house the two of you no longer share. “I want you to be with someone who I know has the best intentions at heart,” Hajime’s low voice really goes in one ear and out the other, “and like it or not, Oikawa does have that much.” Then the softer tone in his voice comes, the one you ever really hear him use when he’s with you; he grabs your hand to demand your attention. “And Tooru’s successful. He’s smart, he’s got the funds to provide for you. You don't want to think about that stuff because you’re young, but I think you’ll appreciate it when you’re our age.” It’s all things you know, and you trust Hajime implicitly.

“It doesn’t matter, because Oikawa’s never going to want to marry me. The guy can barely stand me.”

“You’re an idiot,” your brother chastises out of nowhere, pulling your hand to yank you within his reach and tossle you to the ground. You try and fail to wrestle out of his grip when he uses his weight to pin you down like you used to do when you were much, much younger. It was never a fair fight, but nothing compares to the way your big brother has long since traded his leaner muscle for built tissue, and physical fitness to rival any Olympic athlete. “You’re fucking beautiful, y’know that? He’d be lucky.” And though you send Hajime the nastiest glare you can muster when he crosses his arms over his wide chest and stares you down like he’s watching a glacier melt, you can feel honest to god heat rush to your cheeks.

+

With more than a decade that passed since you first had to deal with the guy, there’s bound to be changes. But it shocks you a little just how obvious it is now you’re looking out for it. Oikawa was always handsome, much to your dismay for many years of your childhood, but it’s different now he’s… a man. Taller, more toned, with a distinct tan from the Argentinian sun and lighter hair, he looks more like a second Adonis than the guy who used to get under your skin— and when his eyes meet yours with much less of that bravado and much more genuine confidence, you’re lost.

You saw the guy last year for Christmas. Your mom made you chaperone Takeru’s 17th birthday party, and Oikawa popped by in full glory. But it felt different.

You unhook your arms from the bar behind you when Oikawa comes over to wrap an arm around your back and presses a kiss to either cheek, before smiling. Full and perfect and— fuck. “Hey, birthday boy,” you manage to say, ignoring the way the absence of his hands starts feeling cold too soon.

“Birthday man now,” he grins with the words, and props one elbow onto the bar to support his head with his hand. Even this way he towers over you, and you can’t quite bear to look at him. “I think the boy-to-man cutoff is 28.” You can’t help but snort, and look up at him. He’s — so much more than he was. Much more everything. You fluster when he’s already looking at you though, pretty eyes scanning your face. You end up searching the room for Hajime to avoid looking awkward, and fiddle with your smirnoff glass. Your big brother’s talking to Tooru’s mother, and laughing, and only catches your eyes for a split second to spy ever so subtly on you both. 

You know he is, because you’ve seen your mom give the same kind of looks. Everyone is smitten with the brunet by your side, and for once you can’t even blame them. He’s electric. You find yourself wound up and spun on your axes, without him even having to do a single thing. After a few moments of silence, he bumps your hip with his, sides basically touching. “So how have you been?” Not a second of pause and he smiles wider, “you still hate me?”

“I never hated you.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“You thought about it,” he chuckles, and even harder when you bite your lip to avoid having to speak. He quiets a little then, and leans close enough for you to feel like you’re drowning in his smell. “You look really good. Been thinking it all night, if I’m being honest.” It sets off fireworks in your veins when his lashes frame his eyes darker, entirely focused on you.

“If I didn’t know any better, Oikawa, I’d have to start believing what I heard.”

A smile tugs at one side of his mouth. “Which is?”

“You’re looking to settle.”

You’re flirting back— you know you are because your body’s curving to get closer to his touch, to the hand that lands on the small of your back; you just can’t believe it yourself. But then he brushes some hair away from your face and lets his eyes flick all over your expression, pulls his lip between his teeth. His mouth moves closer to your ear, and you feel like you’re soaring and dying all at once. “Darling, being with you wouldn’t be settling for anything.” Whatever spell he put on his voice is working, and when he pulls back you’re basically mouth to mouth.

“You’re a tease.”

“You like it,” he pops the ‘t’ before dipping down and laying a kiss onto your lips, so soft and sweet you melt in his hands. He’s pulling away before you even get a chance to savor it, and you let out a whine. Something that makes him laugh. “You gotta wait, we’re in public.” Public. You come back to your body, back to the room with all of your relatives— as you start burning with shame. You give him a punch to his pec, that he mocks hisses at, before grinning. “Desert should be out soon. We’ll have some time to sneak off then.”

It’s entirely inappropriate, you kissing your brother’s best friend, let alone -sneaking out of the room- and yet; you’re nodding at him, resolutely. Your stomach flips, and you have to keep yourself from rubbing your thighs together. And Oikawa basically glows when he notices, because he can’t resist sneaking two hands behind your back to grab your ass and pull you up against his chest, nosing at your jaw. “You’re- so fucking cute.”

You fight to get back to the floor because of where you are and because your dress is riding up, wobble onto your heels with a little pant, but still your heart’s pounding. Fuck, you must be losing it. You want that. You want that? Your skin tingles when he winks and walks away, picking up one of the champagne flutes from the bar to look back at you, and let his tongue peek out the side of his mouth. And you’re trying to catch your breath when you find Hajime between the people, green eyes beaming into you from across the room. You can’t read his expression but whatever he’s feeling, he’s no less obvious when he pulls a finger under his collar like it’s too tight, and runs his eyes down your body just once. In judgment, you can only assume.

So you’re not sure why his face is so pink, ears and cheeks both.

+

You should be embarrassed at how loud and desperate you’re being clinging to Tooru’s neck, letting him suck marks into the side of your neck for people to gawk at. He’s sweaty, and so hot, and so are you— pressed between his chest and the wall with your legs hooked over his arms. He pants against your collarbones once, twice, and breathes your name so lovingly into your skin. You don’t know what happened, you’re lost. One second you were laughing as you snuck out the room with Tooru giggling into your shoulder, and now you’re here, biting your lip so hard you pull blood.

“Oh, holy— fuck, Tooru. Tooru, Tooru,” you mewl, and he nods before taking a nipple into his mouth. You should think before you act. But you can’t, throwing your head back and moaning out his name as his cock slides in and out of you with a mind-numbing, rhythmic motion that only drives your brain further from the present.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he promises, and fucks like he’s never going to stop. Never going to let you walk on your own legs again, so solid as he drives your walls open and fucks you onto him. You’re bounced like it’s easy, and he straightens up to kiss you hard. “Feels good, huh? This tight, little pussy feels so fucking good too. So warm ‘n wet, all for me, yeah?” He hikes you a little higher, then kisses along your throat as you run your fingers through his hair and tug. He moans, but continues without pause, like fucking you was what he was meant to do all along.

“All mine, good fucking girl. So needy.” It’s kinda scary how fucking good his fat cock feels sliding in and out your clenching cunt. How embarrassingly messy you’ve gotten for him. “Or are you thinking of — someone else, ‘s that why?” You clench around him before shaking your head side to side, and swallow down a moan when he fucks right into that spot that makes you gush. He doesn’t pause to let you think about anything, pulling your head back to suck more marks into your neck, whimpering against his solid body and shoulders; but if you had thought about it for longer, maybe you could’ve figured something out.

+

Your wedding is more lowkey than you expected Oikawa Tooru to agree with, though you’re more than glad about it. You also realize that day that you should stop calling him by his full name, considering you’re an Oikawa too, now. The entire room is filled with only some family and friends, his old highschool friends and some of his newer team mates; your three closest uni classmates also in attendance. And your rock in the very front, Hajime nii smiling so full and wide it pulls his eyes into little moons. It’s entirely intoxicating, and so is Tooru when he shines so bright the sun in the sky can’t match.

When the night comes to a close, slowly, long hours later— Tooru carries you over the step of the door with all the excess dramatics you did expect from him. Only, you’re happy right now, laughing against his neck at every breathed well wish, every praise, and each time he tells you how fucking pretty his new wife is. You’d be lying if you didn't admit to it feeling damn good. When he swears you’re glowing, you’re inclined to believe it. He closes the door behind you two, and loosens the pretty, silk tie from around his neck as he watches you slowly shuffle back a bit towards the bed. His lips pull into a smile, before he hums, “I’ll come join you in a second, cutie.”

You kick your shoes off, and hum, and choose to start taking off your very expensive dress on your own. You know Tooru wouldn’t care about ripping it open, but you sure do. His steps go around the room, before he disappears into the bathroom, you think. You could use a freshen up too, honestly. The long, laced up back of your dress is barely undone before a soft knock comes from the door, and you look up, bristling at the sound. But Tooru’s nowhere to be seen —did he go out into the hall?— you keep the front of your dress to your chest with one hand while slowly sliding open the lock with the other.

“Why’d you—” You take a step back automatically, and look up with wide eyes. Hajime’s a little flushed when he steps through the door and pushes it closed, like he’s been running. You fluster under the flicking of his green eyes all over you, and down you. “Niichan, what are you doing here? Did you need something?” Hajime’s always been the quieter type. When he wasn’t around Oikawa to drive him to his extremes, he’d only ever speak when it was important. When his words would be an addition to the conversation, it made it feel like it was always important to listen.

But as he reaches out and brushes his fingers along your cheek and under your jaw- letting the silence hang as goosebumps build on your skin, you really wish he’d just talk. “Hajime nii, I’m kinda- in the middle of something.” You motion your eyes down to show your state of undress, barely kept up when he crowd you a little more, and you squeak. “Niichan, you have to leave. It’s- my wedding night.”

“And I’ll let you enjoy it,” Hajime says, though his eyes shine with a determination that doesn’t let you believe it for a second. But his hand doesn’t move when it drops to your shoulder, thumb brushing along the soft of your throat; making your heartbeat race wildly against him. The bathroom door clicks open to show you your husband without a shirt, who only stares for a split second before Hajime glares at him. “You had sex with my sister at your birthday party,” the darker brunet hisses, and Tooru smiles.

“It was my birthday, Iwa-chan, I got excited.”

You’re stuck glancing between the two of them with your hands a little shaky, a mix of the nerves of the day and of this situation collecting. Did Hajime really come in here to chastise you about your personal matters? You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks, before you’re pushing his hand off your shoulder and trying to lead him back out the way he came. “Hajime nii, if that’s how you’re going to be, you need to leave—”

He grabs your one wrist and then your other, and clicks his tongue when you struggle against him. “Shh, calm down,” he looks down at you then, holding your arms wide enough apart for him to fit right up against you, muscular body keeping you right in place. Faces hovering with only a few inches between. If you were hot before, you’re absolutely burning when you feel your dress slowly start to slip down by gravity, and bucking against Hajime only makes it worse. But he’s too busy looking at you to notice, or care. “I’m not gonna cause trouble.”

You feel two large hands land on your shoulders then, Oikawa coming up behind you to lean down closer towards you, and make the jitters even worse. What is happening? “Iwa-chan’s just a little jealous and upset that I fucked you when I did.” His hand wraps around your neck and squeezes a little, only to start stripping you of your dress with slow, deft hands. “He wanted to go first, and I messed that up for him. Isn’t that right, Iwa-chan?”

“You’re an ass.”

Whatever thoughts were building in your head fall completely silent when you stare up at Hajime in complete and utter confusion. But he doesn’t make any attempt to deny it, or tell Tooru how wrong he is, how wrong any of this is— that he doesn’t see you like that, you’re his little sister. Tears start welling up in your wide eyes before you can even open your mouth to make good on the many accusations that roam through your skull, and all that you can manage is a soft, “Haji?”

“Aw, you’re breaking the poor girl’s heart, Iwa. Come on, out with the confession. She’s clearly waiting to hear it.” The happy-go-lucky, lithe voice of your fresh, new husband does absolutely nothing to soothe your nerves, instead spiking them even higher. And you want to understand, you do, but nothing makes sense anymore. Like you’ve been dropped into a free fall with no end. As your big brother clears his throat, Oikawa’s quick to kiss along the column of your neck, letting his hands slowly trail down your sides to push the white fabric down more and more.

Hajime swallows, eyes avoidant. “Listen, I know,” he stops to let his eyes drop down to your new exposed bra, to Tooru’s hands going even lower than that, and locks his jaw with a glare, “stop that, I can’t concentrate.” The little chuckle Tooru lets out against your shoulder washes over you. And your brother takes a long look at you, all of you, before leaning down to - kiss you. Hajime kisses you needy and long, pushing past your lips with his tongue like it’s normal. Like it’s okay. You start struggling against him again, both of them, but go nowhere. When he pulls back there’s an unfair sort of softness mixed in with lust, forced down your throat.

“I don’t look at you as just a sister,” Hajime whispers, “not anymore. I want to be with you- and- and I knew that wouldn’t happen- couldn’t.” He’s panting like you somehow bewitched him, green eyes searching yours for any sign of agreement. “And I know you feel it too.” You want to fight, and scream at him to get the hell out, but— you love him too much to do that. Instead you’re forced to hang off his every word while Tooru keeps himself busy by getting your one leg out from the dress before the other. “And when Oikawa suggested he marry you, I…”

There’s a pounding, white noise in your head that only grows louder when he kisses you again, and claims your lips with a hungry groan. “I want you so fucking bad, so fucking bad.” You can’t do anything but shake your head side to side, and try to pull away from him.

“You’re insane. Both of you!” Though they’ve rendered you in your underwear by now, and you can tell what’s most likely going to go down— you still start struggling as hard as you can against the two of them, and push at Hajime’s hands until he has to wrap his arm around your torso instead. “Let me go! Let me go, I want out of here. Fucking, let me go!” Your voice breaks, and Hajime clings harder to you, keeping your feet from the floor as he walks you two to the bed. You try to kick and buck, but it doesn’t move him.

“If you’re going to keep shouting I’ll stuff something in your mouth to shut you up,” he says as he presses you down on the plush covers, keeping you in place by pinning you under his wait. “You want that?”

“Get off of me, you’re crazy! You’re my brother! My brother!” Then you glance at your husband, and sneer at him too. “How can you go along with this?! You two are— you’re the w-worst, god— niichan, get off of me! Off! Now!”

“I love how fucking fiesty you are,” Oikawa chuckles from the end of the bed, wrapping those long fingers around your ankle to pull. “But we should probably shut her up, Iwa-chan. Can’t have security burst in here.”

“I know,” Hajime sighs, and gives you another look, and then places his palm over your mouth before you can start begging. Your tears well up harder, and run down your temples. ‘Wait, no,’ you’re mumbling against his palm, but it’s too late. As soon as he takes his hand off a piece of fabric is shoved in, and his tie used as a makeshift gag. “It’s going to be okay, just calm down. We’ll take it out when you’re calm,” your brother promises, and gives you a soft kiss to your forehead that you want to hate so much. But you can’t, it still has that same soft feeling as before.

Your pretty brunet husband is quick to secure your ankles to the railing of the bed, a bit too tight to be comfortable. But he smiles, and comes to sit on the bed next to you to wipe the tears from your eyes too. “As for me, I really do like you. A lot. So you don’t have to feel too betrayed. I’m just helping out a friend, you get it. Pay it forward- kind of thing?”

Hajime glances at your feet, before placing a hand on your stomach to rub comforting circles into your skin, then raises a brow. “Her panties?” Tooru is a bit too smug when prodding under the fabric with those long fingers of his, and lets the elastic snap back against your skin with a little smile.

“We can take easy care of that.” He gives you a stare that makes your blood feel hot, picking at the little bow and pulling the lacy fabric. “My little wife. I love that title for you, cutie.”

“Don’t push it,” Hajime grunts, before Tooru pulls so hard the fabric gives and tears apart at the sides, leaving you bare. And both men get clearly more pent up when Tooru runs a finger down your slicking cunt, up and down to drive you crazy. “Me first,” Hajime’s quick to say, and Tooru only laughs at the possessiveness your brother shows at the mere thought. You’re still sniffling around the gag though, spit soaking the fabric as you watch how they exchange places and Oikawa makes quick work of your lacy bra too.

Your brother is transfixed, and you both want to glare at him and look away as he spits on his fingers and rubs two fingers up and down your glistening bottom lips, dipping into your hole only to pull back. “Fuck, you’re wet. You’re really wet,” he chants, first to himself, then looking up at you and the way you’re burning through your own skin from embarrassment. “Knew you wanted it too, I just— you could’ve just asked. We wouldn’t even need shitty-kawa to be here.”

“Don’t be rude,” Oikawa breathes back, and dips his face to your neck and hands to your tits to knead them, play with your nipples, and suck them into his mouth to be abused by his tongue. “Get to it already, before you cum in your pants.” The insult is barely given any notice when you moan around your gag, Tooru’s quick fingers rubbing and pulling at your pebbled nubs just right. Hajime moans lowly, and then grabs himself through his pants. Everything after that happens quickly. His shirt and pants go, and Tooru’s tuxedo is shed to the ground without a second thought, all the while keeping your body busy with greedy touches.

It feels so good, that by the time Hajime’s pulling out his cock and shoving his boxers down his thick thighs, you’re squirming in anticipation, cunt dripping down onto the perfect, white sheets below. Your brother’s cock is very hard, and so is your husband as he shoves his hand inside his own and lets out a long moan when grabbing himself. “Oh, fuck, you’re so cute when you glare at me like that. Makes me want to fuck that attitude out of you,” he gets closer to your face, and pushes the fabric down to push his hard, flushed cock and slap it against your lips. “If I take this out you’ll be good for us, won’t you?”

Hajime’s fisting his cock and wrapping a ring of fingers around the head to fuck in and out of for a few, before throwing his head back. “No, I can’t wait. Fuck her face later. You’ve got all the time.”

The soft, melodic chuckle Tooru lets out fills the room as he watches Hajime line up with your clenching, needy pussy to hum. “Well, so do you. You’re welcome, by the way.” Though the darker brunet makes a face, he grips your hips tighter, and pushes in without thinking twice. The feeling of him spreading you open is too much, you’re tearing up again. You mumble his name around the gag, and choke a little as he pushes in so much deeper than you were expecting. But it feels good. So good.

Tooru pulls out the gag to instead replace it with his fingers, and beams down at you. “Our little wife, look at you. Open wide, baby.”

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2022. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

[bumblesimagines]

Headcanon:

Being friends with Daisy Jones

Request: Yes or No

I graduated today!!

And I'm exhausted lmao. I'll try to push out the next part of Under The Moonlight on Sat or Sun!

TW: Addiction mentions

Pretty short

~~~

Daisy Jones is the definition of a hot chaotic mess. From her fashion to her wild mostly uncombed hair to her self-destructive tendencies. Daisy Jones is a wrecking ball in all the good and wrong ways.

Liking her was easy. Daisy was easy-going and sweet with a feisty side that came and went. She had a way of making your day by just flashing one of her dazzling smiles or encouraging -more so forcing- you to go out to enjoy the day.

Hating her was easy too. Daisy's addictions were always a losing battle, and her stubbornness didn't help. She was assertive in a way, putting her foot down but for things that did her no good. Drinking, taking spills, doing a line, Nicky. She believed her problems made her better. But when she was too erratic to care about her wellbeing or when she spat venom cause she felt backed into a corner... It was hard to believe that.

Being a friend of Daisy's often felt like babysitting a child. Always glancing over to check on her or grabbing her hand before she could go chew someone out for being dismissive.

But those tender, vulnerable, and sweet moments made up for it. The times when she'd rest her head on your lap and talk about her lonely childhood. The times she'd get on stage and dedicate a song to you with the biggest smile on her face. The times she'd break down in your arms and cry until she fall asleep cause she couldn't hold it in anymore.

Of course, those moments were also combined with the moments you questioned her sanity and her age.

Because being a friend of Daisy Jones meant your place got broken into. Often. Hidden key? She'll find it. Open window? She'll climb through it. No available entries? She'll make one.

Her spontaneous- and albeit erratic- nature had to be one of her more... charming traits. She could wake up one morning with the idea of skinny dipping in Teddy Prices pool and she'd do it. How many shots can one take before they think they can dance on a table without falling on their ass? She'll find out.

Quite frankly, there was never a boring day with Daisy Jones. Even when she had writers block and paced around the place groaning and huffing. She'd always find something to give her the boost of inspiration she needed. Sometimes it came in the form of a certain white powder. Other times it meant debating what would happen if she hopped from the roof and into the pool.

And after some exhausting years of dealing with her, there came the tear-jerking time when she won her battles. The moment when she got herself clean and started fresh. The moment when she became a mother despite her worries and doubts. The moment when she finally breathed without weight on her shoulders.

[genuflectx]

Tw for talking about animal death under the cut

After only two years together and a slow decline, we had to make the call to help our dog Rosie pass last night when she became suddenly very ill. 😞

There is a lot to say about Rosie... we adopted her a few months after my childhood dog passed, and she was the first pet Jester and I picked out together (but being honest... it was mostly Jester's choice). Though she was a bit shocked at the shelter she was quiet and sweet and kept scratching us for pets, so we took her home.

We quickly realized she was not quiet and that she had severe emotional issues. She could hear but didn't respond to human speech, doors made her so anxious that she would yell and rip apart baby gates even if she had tons of space, and she lost a tooth during (failed) crate training. There were a lot of sleepless nights and a trip to a vet behavioralist when we decided to keep and work with her instead of rehome her. This year we realized she was likely far, far older than the vets estimated, given her beginning to lose walking in her back legs (something that can happen to elderly dogs, it happened to Jake at age 13-14 before he passed).

Getting her on anxiety meds/arthritis meds and keeping her out of crates significantly helped and for about a year she was as calm as she'd ever be, save for general anxiety, but no more late night barking. She even got used to seeing closed doors and stopped freaking out at every baby gate. Of course, then we had to deal with her anxious drinking water issue and her inability to learn how to tell us when she wanted out to pee. So we just took her out every 2-3 hours, and that generally worked with a combination of diapers and puppy pads.

She would wag her tail sometimes when she saw us, and when she was silly she'd roll around on her back but she never wanted to play. She didn't know how to be a dog. But still, when I had oatmeal on the weekend she'd sometimes come up to the couch and wag her tail, staring with her insane eyes, and then try to lick the bowl in plain sight if I put it on the table. That was the most "being a dog" she ever did, and I'm glad we were able to get her from "self destructive because she saw a baby gate on the stairs" to "naughty dog stealing oatmeal." Even if it was only for about a year.

Last night I stood her on the grass in the yard for some exercise because she never really enjoyed walks much. At dinner, she sat and shook paw the way I taught her (back when I thought she could not learn I was overjoyed she learned to do a few tricks) to get her favorite dessert, a quiche flavored dog treat. Hours later the slow decline elderly dogs get took a sharp downturn and it hit us like a train. It was immediate and got worse over a few hours.

I will spare details, but I believe it was either a stroke or a third bout of vestibular disease, but this time she was too much on the decline to come out of it alright. Even if she did we knew she would never fully recover (she didn't the first two times, always had a tilt, but happy). I believe we made the right decision. At 1am at an emergency vet we said goodbye and the anxiousness she'd carried with her for who knows how long melted away into rest and peace.

It feels good to talk about her life even in a ramble on a Tumblr post. We did the best we could to give this elderly, neurotic dog two golden years of retirement from whatever background she came from. And we may not have had a week to prepare and to cook her a big farewell dinner like Jake, but she had bacon and eggs and oatmeal and cheese for her adoption day party only a few months ago, so she at least got that. Even getting petted by so many people at the dog park, and they all gave her treats for her special day, and she was the happiest I'd seen her for a while.

We'll miss you Rosie Posie Daisy Doo. I'm glad you're not afraid and hurting anymore, and that we could be friends even if just for a little while.

[rockruin]

𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍.

PREMISE — daisy jones is a rock singer / songwriter, edging towards world fame, though right now she's still only touring in support of world sensation rock band the six. TW —— alchol, substance abuse.

she's not quite tipsy —— these days she doesn't do moderation: freefalls into self-destruction instead, and she's just teetering over the edge of a terrible night. but when daisy jones smiles, it is glaring: something lightning-like, blazing bright. " how'd you like it if someone wrote a song about you ? ", she asks, her voice a sing-song, a lullaby: " a stadium anthem, to last for decades, y'know ? just give me a reason, baby. "

[impawsiblecat]

100 Days of Deathduo

Day 12- ATLA Au!

Tw for minor character injury <3

    Icee does not do firebending. Oh they can, of course, they are a firebender no matter how weak their bending may be due to lack of practice and attention, but they don’t do it. Of course there is the whole safety thing, hiding as a refugee and all. But most of the reason is that they just enjoy messing with people. 

    Like right now. Ether mentions needing to go and find a firebending teacher, and Icee catches Clover’s quick glimpse at the statement. “Oh gee, yeah. It sure sucks that none of us know how to bend fire.” Icee says in response, as dryly as they can. “It would be so convenient if I was a firebender instead of a nonbender.” They continue, trying hard to hide their giggles. When they look at Clover, they can see her doing the same thing as she puts her hand over her mouth and coughs to hide her laughs.

    Ether doesn’t notice, of course. Icee wouldn’t let their secret get exposed that easily. Still, they gently nudge Clover with their elbow to get her to stop. It doesn’t work, and the exchange leaves both of them bursting into giggles to the confusion of everyone else. Icee gives no explanation when they do eventually calm down, and they just say. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

    If Icee were actually confident with her bending, perhaps she wouldn’t be keeping her secret with the rest of the people she is traveling with. Perhaps she would tell Ether, and offer to be his teacher, to help him learn and grow and master firebending. As it is, Icee cannot even create her own flames, just control already made fires and use her inner fire to regulate body temperature if she is feeling fancy. Neither of which, she suspects, would be extremely useful to Ether.

    Which is fine. It is no great loss to Icee either way, and they have kept it hidden this long that they could almost delude themself into actually believing they are a non bender. It’s just more convenient, keeping it hidden, preventing everyone from getting their hopes up. And Icee has lived with it this long.

    And yet, later that night, when everyone else has gone to sleep, Icee sneaks over to the dying embers of the campfire and finds herself slowly breathing into them, aligning the sparks that come out of the campfire with her own inner flame and coaxing them to grow, take shape and form once more. It feels unfamiliar, now, having gone so long without bending, but Icee still remembers to breathe in time with the fire and connect with it. Fire is life, and if she focuses, she can feel the fire in herself, the one that she has never managed to get out on its own.

    And that is alright. Icee does not need to. Instead, she reaches out to the fire, and nudges it into her own hand. It flickers hypnotically, warm in her hand for as long as she keeps control of it, not dangerous unless she allows it to be. She breathes in, and out, and reminds herself that fire is life, and breath, and every other statement from the one free trial  firebending class she took when she was eight.

    Fire is life, yes, they contemplate, watching the flickering flame continue. Fire has also taken life before, they remind themself, thinking of the war, of the fire nation sending untrained soldiers to the front lines, remembering cities they passed charred to the ground before they met Clover. It is destruction, and while Icee thinks of the horrors fire can cause, they don’t realize that the fire they are holding is steadily getting hotter until they extinguish it with a shake of their hand reflexively and hiss at the light burn it left behind.

    Their hand is a bit red and shiny, and Icee winces at the burn. It’s not that bad, but they berate themself for letting it happen. Firebending is power, discipline, and focus, and they had none of those three at the moment. That was the first rule of firebending. Oopsie daisy. 

    Icee contemplates just leaving it, but the rest of the group would probably be extremely suspicious if they saw the burn, and Clover would be worried when she found out Icee didn’t tell her. Especially because Clover is the one with the first aid kit. Which means that Icee is gonna have to go get her help right now. Which means waking her up. Icee hates waking people up, especially for things that aren’t a big deal, but they also know that they have to treat the wound unless they wish for infection, which means that they have to do it. Honestly, having to wake Clover up is a worse punishment for losing focus than the burn is.

    And so Icee, very begrudgingly, sneaks over to Clover’s tent. “Pssst. Clover. Are you awake?” They whisper, and to their surprise Clover immediately responds.

    “Icee? What are you doing here, up so late?” She says, opening her tent. She looks worried, and tired, and icee feels so bad.

    “I am so very sorry for waking you up Clover. I uh. May have accidentally burned myself. With fire.” Icee wrinkles their nose at the statement and holds out their hand, and Clover looks at the burn with confusion that slowly turns into realization.

    “Ah. I see. Let me get the burn cream and some bandages.” She says quietly, rummaging around in her tent before bringing out the team’s first aid supply. Icee doesn’t know if they are glad or disappointed that Clover didn’t question what they are doing. “Come on Icee, the fire will provide better light for me to see.”

    Icee dutifully follows along and sits next to Clover as she starts opening up the salve. “I’m surprised the fire has lasted this long.” She says, and Icee knows what she is doing. It’s an opening, a chance to talk about what happened if Icee wants. They know they could just make up some excuse about the wind and Clover would leave it alone. 

    “I uh. I did that.” Icee says. The salve is cool on the stinging burn, and they stare at it instead of at the fire. Clover doesn’t say anything in response, just continues to treat the wound and let Icee work through their thoughts at their own pace. “I thought that if I started practicing bending again, I could help Ether. At least a little.”

    “Hmm.” Clover responds. “You don’t have to teach Ether firebending if you don’t want to. You don’t have to be someone you don’t want to be, and no one expects you to.” She says, bandaging the wound. “We will all love you anyways.”

    Icee looks at her, then. “I know. Sometimes I wish that my firebending was a part of me though, instead of something I am ashamed or afraid of. And then other times I am so glad that I chose the path I did, even though it means stepping away from that. It lead me here, to where I am now.” They say.

    Clover wraps the bandages around Icee’s hand, sealing it from any infections. “The two can coexist, you know. You can learn to accept that part of yourself while still making your own path, with us if you want. And no matter what happens, you are still Icee. You are still you. Nothing can change that.” She smiles at Icee as she finishes tying up the bandages.

    Icee smiles back. “Alright Clover. Thank you. I’m sorry for waking you up for such a small thing.” 

    “You are never a small thing Icee. I’m glad I could help.” Clover says, and Icee is filled with the knowledge that they are cared for. 

    “Goodnight Clover.” They say instead, heading to their tent after waving to Clover. That night, Icee falls asleep while focusing on their inner fire, reminding themself that it is life. 

[tsukiya-hoshimiya]

About Dys's way of loving!

The GIF is just my reaction upon realizing something that just made me go "Damn, wasn't expecting that." Like, wow, talk about an interesting development of a supposed-to-be self-insert to a genuine OC!

Up until now, I thought the way Dys loves was just at the overbearing side despite trying his best to be as normal as he can possibly be, especially with him trying to fully respect the love of his life in every aspects such as their wishes and their choices.

But apparently it wasn't as simple as that, nuh uh, not at all; In fact, I think it's a bit complicated since the once pure (albeit not so surprisingly questionable considering his upbringing) love of his as a little kid became quite twisted as he grew up.

Guess I'll have to put up a warning for this? Considering the nature of his love is twisted and all now...

TW: yandere, nsfw, mentions of cannibalism, obsessive behavior, self-deprecation, self-destructive tendencies, mentions of child abuse (victim is Dys/Daisuke), bad writing

Now let's get it out of my system now that I think I put up the appropriate trigger warnings, might edit it later if I ended up finding out that I did not in fact included all of it in the trigger warning.

Regarding his way of love as a kid; Let's say the way he asked for love was expected from a kid who was not received the amount of loves that he needs (which will definitely affect him in the future): * Clingy behavior: How he gently holds on to the hems of his parents' clothing before he was told to stop, of course he reluctantly listened like a good boy during this time. How he wanted them to stay for a bit longer to shower him with praises as they commend him for a job well done. This clingy behavior of his during the time as a kid was not as worse as it is now, as he already repressed his emotions as much as he can, though he sometimes slipped up to which he apologized to his family for such behavior- He should continue to be a good child for them, they already have so many things to take care of, he shouldn't burden them even further. * Compliant behavior: How he follows the whims of the Inukai family without thinking too much about it, as he thought that they are doing it for him. So he was, of course, going to do it for their sake as well. Yet despite all of the horrible treatment that he had endured, he is surprisingly and sweetly affectionate. Oh, so pure like a daisy that he was affectionately nicknamed as by one of his cousins. After all, he is loved by his family, so why should he not show them the affection they all deserve? (Almost all of them didn't deserve his affectionate puppy behavior. Period.)

It, not so surprisingly, worsens as he grew up as a energetically 'rebellious' teen. Well, that is what is labelled to him after he lost the drive to follow every whims of his family's the moment it dawned on to him, he will never satisfy their expectations. Also, it wouldn't be surprising to say that he is incredibly dense during this time, to the point it made others want to knock some sense into him as he is that dense. He was genuinely loved by his former enemies turned to his friends, yet it all went past through his head. That is to be expected. After all, he had repressed his feelings for so long as a kid, as well as feeling as if he were not worthy of love at all- That it clearly affected him entirely at this point.

But then it all changed, he met the love of his life at the wrong time and wrong place (I guess in this case, it depends on the Alternative Timeline that he is in? The worst one is of course the Alternative Timeline where he is the head of the Inukai family), oh how he noticed how his feelings blossoms for the worst. "Why do I yearn so much for them? They clearly deserve someone better than me..." "So why? Why? Why...? Why do they mean so much to me? I'm scared..."

As the Head of the Inukai Family: It was to be expected from him that he were to be partnered with a renowned mage for the sake of his family, specifically for the sake of his future generation as well. After all, he is the head of the family now, finally gaining the position after painstakingly managing to convince the family his worth. Yet he felt empty despite achieving what he thought he wanted to achieve as a foolish, little child that he once was. 'Ah, what a waste of my life this ended up being...' That was his thoughts until he had laid his eyes upon his supposed-to-be partner. Well, never-fucking-mind, maybe this was worth the effort. Maybe? This was definitely worth the effort that he had went through, the hell that was his life, it was all for him to see a glimpse of heaven. Oh how he felt like a sinner upon witnessing them, even more so the longer they stayed together (for political reasons, unfortunately for this dumbass). His mind is completely filled with them, how he wanted to defile them completely- How he wanted to eat them, devour them entirely in a metaphorical and literal sense. It wouldn't be a surprise for him if they ended up to taste good. Oh well, it can't be helped, his partner looks too delicious for him to resist. Yet he still managed to have self control, despite the thoughts being undeniably worrisome according to others. After all, this relationship is purely political, and this is one-sided. He can at least notice that, yet here he is, being a disgusting sinner as usual as he jacks off to the thought of having a taste of their body, their moans, their sweat- Their everything. So he does want them that badly huh? To the point it is unbearable for him to think of a life without them, to the point he would not mind killing his own family for their sake or anyone else for that matter- To do everything just for them, them alone, no one else. They're like his god after all, they're his everything, he felt like he was a scum and nothing compared to them. "Well shit, I don't think I deserve them, especially after thinking of them in such a way... " Yet he gave in to the animalistic instinct of his to permanently mark his darling as his, he felt guilty yet at the same time he doesn't. "Oh, my dearest darling, how I long to eat you." "But I don't mind if you were to eat me as well, I find it the greatest honor life has ever given to me if you were to do so. But I bet I don't taste as good as you though, just a personal hunch, nothing to worry your pretty head over-" "So please, use me as you wish~" They can literally do as they please, as he stated, even as to go ahead and abandon him for another- After all, their words are law. But expect him not to fully follow their demands, as he would either personally kill ones that they admire just to give them a piece of what they love (like a fuck up he is in this timeline) especially (either through trinkets or by food, don't forget that this man can do household chores and be a househusband whenever he felt like it) or offer them his own heart literally as a way to declare his love for them. He is their devil after all, a devil to a divine being such as them, like the dreadful nightmare to their sweet dreams. He can't live without them, so he wouldn't mind making them feel the same way as he does. Wait, what about his own family that he faithfully serves now? The Inukai family be damned, they are not his precious darling after all.

As the Chaldea Master Candidate: This was unexpected, since when did he harbored such a strong feeling? It felt so suffocating just by thinking about such a feeling, hell, it made him want to belch out whatever he ate (which is nothing as of the moment). When? Was it when the relationship between them first blossomed? Or was it at the start? That is impossible- It's definitely not at the start. But he was certain to say the least that it may have started by the time he gets to know them better. That should suffice enough as a reason, yet he can't help but notice even more of how he yearns for them, pins for them even. When did they invade his mind, to the point he can't think of anything but them anymore? He felt like a scum for having thought of them that way, especially even having the guts to think of them in such a lewd way. He doesn't mind what position he ends up being in his disgusting imagination, just as long as he was able to feel them at least in his dreams- Even going so far as to worship them. (Pt.2 will be posted later)

[isywz]

I give up

[weeping-parasite]

For context, the post was about pseudoscorpion, a lost deep web album that is nothing but audio clips of CP. It is obviously highly illegal to own, so idk why this guy would just admit that he has it