#Dream sounds legitimately terrified

[lawsofchaos1]

Malec Promptlet: Royal AU

Asmodeus is the High King of Edom, a brutal and immoral overlord.

Edom conquered Idris two years ago after a long and protracted war, ended by the public execution of the King and Queen, Robert and Maryse Lightwood.

Alexander Lightwood, the Crown Prince and High General, is spared by Asmodeus, but only with the intention of having him serve as a living symbol of Idris' defeat by becoming the personal servant of Edom's own Crown Prince, Magnus Bane.

Prior to the war's end, Alec was able to send his siblings to safety in a neutral country across the sea, DuMort, even though he had to all but beg his sister and his shield-brother, Jace, to go. Alec had known that they were losing, the magic of Edom too powerful to fight much longer, and he'd played every emotional trick he could to make sure Jace and Izzy left their country and him behind. Max would need both of them with him to survive as a legitimate blood heir of a fallen kingdom.

Alec hadn't expected to survive himself.

But, when Asmodeus demands he bend the knee in the same room as his parent's bodies, Alec understands the trade at hand - his dignity for his remaining people's survival.

It's an easy decision for Alec to make.

The journey from Idris to Edom is hard, but Alec holds fast and eventually they make it to Edom's capital and he is thrown to the mercy of the Crown Prince's household. Every so often Asmodeus trots Alec out for some public humiliation, to prove Edom's superiority in front of visiting rulers wondering whether to take the offered treaty terms or risk negotiation, but for the most part everything is ... fine.

Magnus, as it turns out, is a kind master and Alec has no complaints.

As the seasons turn and begin to repeat, Magnus and Alec grow to be friends, confidantes even, though Alec is never truly able to forget the precariousness of his situation. Magnus desperately wants to be more, but he also knows that Alec doesn't have the power to say no, so he contents himself as they are. 

Magnus dreams of Alec being confident enough in their firm friendship and trust to perhaps want to be together as well, dreams even more secretly of the two of them ruling one day together as fully equal partners.

(Alec refuses to admit, even to himself, that he often dreams of similar tidings.) 

One night, however, Asmodeus calls Alec to serve him in his private rooms with a group of counselors and visiting officials from their southern neighbor. Magnus sadly watches Alec go, knowing exactly why Asmodeus wants Alec tonight of all nights. Negotiation begins tomorrow on a trade treaty, and watching Idris' fallen prince kneel to an enemy king is a powerful reminder of what it can cost to refuse Asmodeus' wishes.

Magnus goes to sleep, wishing futilely he was able to help without making things infinitely worse, hoping Alec will be well and whole in the morning.

It seems like his head has just touched the pillow when Magnus is woken up, suddenly and shockingly, the embers of the previous evening's fire providing just enough light to see by. Jolting up, heart racing, Magnus' mouth drops open to see Alec kneeling prostrate at the side of his bed.

Alec is frantic, broken apologies mixing in with barely intelligible explanations of something Magnus can't even begin to understand, so frantic and terrified is his friend. Magnus doesn't know what to do because Alec is shaking and trembling, and, even in those first days when Alec had thought he was to be executed and his people punished at the first mistake he'd made, he'd never been like this.

Magnus tries to comfort him, making calming sounds and promising that everything will be okay, but Alec doesn't seem to hear him. Alec won't rise and Magnus hates it because this is how servants react to his father, so he slips to his knees at Alec's side.

Thanking all the gods that Alec doesn't flinch at his touch - Magnus doesn't know what he would do if Alec did - the story finally comes tumbling out, Alec still refusing to meet his eyes.

Asmodeus and his retinue had been drunk, but Alec is well enough used to that. The casual slurs and violence they throw his way are what Alec has come to expect when he is called to serve the King.

(Magnus is livid at this unthinking confirmation. Alec is too quiet, too resigned to complain, has never mentioned this to him before - though Magnus had certainly suspected - and Magnus can do nothing but seethe helplessly as Alec mentions it as though it is nothing.)

But something had changed midway through the evening - there'd been a new horror lurking in the glint of Asmodeus' eyes. He'd grabbed Alec the next time he'd been close enough and forced him on his lap, laughing and wondering to the crowd exactly how well the Crown Prince of Idris would warm his bed.

Alec had panicked.

He keeps apologizing to Magnus and Magnus has a sudden, horrified image of Alec having grabbed a knife and slit his father's throat and the two of them having to run to escape charges of attempted regicide (because obviously Magnus isn't letting Alec run away by himself), but Alec keeps going and finally Magnus understands what had happened.

Alec claimed himself to be Magnus' bed slave instead- the only thing the King would have accepted as a reason for Alec to say no. Alec has no rights of his own in Edom. Only if Alec already belonged to Magnus, a possession that would irritate Magnus if someone else used it, could he refuse.

But Asmodeus won't hide this.

Asmodeus will think it hilarious, and Magnus heart stutters in his chest because he can't deny it without condemning Alec to the executioner's block now that it's been said.

Everyone will believe that Magnus cares not for consent and has chosen to use a former Prince and defeated enemy in the basest way possible.

And he cannot deny it.

But Magnus swallows his horror and holds Alec to his chest, running his hand soothingly across Alec's back until the trembling subsides and his exhausted friend is nearly falling asleep in his arms.

Tomorrow will be one of the hardest days of Magnus' life, but he will do anything to spare Alec from his father.

Anything.

[Insert Happy Malec Ending]

#lawsofchaos rambles #malec #shadowhunters #promptlet #angst with a happy ending #implied dubious consent #Only implied - it does not happen #and the implication is not between malec

[jamminvroomvroom]

Hi babes, my dream is a lewis angst from you. How about miscommunication causing troubles with Lewis and his gf, maybe he's too closed off about something or she doesn't want to burden him with her problems, but things get out of hands and they eventually talk it out

lewis is a new challenge for me, i’m so excited to give this a go!!! thank you for the request, lemme know what you think <3

angst, fluff

-

“so, did you talk to toto yet?”

“this, again? no.” lewis kept his hardened stare on the road, disappointed in himself by the way he’d spoken to you.

“i just don’t understand why you haven’t signed the papers yet.”

“let it go. i don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

you sighed, folding your hands in your lap, staring blankly out the window. you wanted to watch the way the setting sun hit his skin, how he glowed as you drove through the british countryside. you wanted to watch the way his eyelashes fluttered against his cheek every time he blinked. you wanted to watch his strong, tattooed fingers drum against the steering wheel as he manoeuvred the mercedes over the rolling hills, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him.

he was looking at you, though, throwing a desperate glance your way at every chance he got. he hated that you had given up, despite his pleads for you to just drop it, already.

lewis hadn’t signed the contract extension yet. he couldn’t even bring himself to take the crisp, daunting papers out of the brown envelope. they taunted him, tested him, aggravated him in a way that a piece of paper shouldn’t have been able to.

what scared him the most about the contract was that nothing really scared him anymore, onions and the piquet family aside. what scared the greatest athlete formula 1 had ever seen? not a lot. he needed that eighth title, legitimately this time. he needed it more than he needed anything, apart from you.

it kept him awake late at night and woke him from his slumber early in the mornings. he thought about it when he ran and when he drove and when he ate. he thought about it in monaco, london, new york city. it was inescapable and haunting, humiliating and terrifying.

he questioned whether it would it ever come. more importantly, he questioned whether mercedes would be the one to give it to him. and that’s why he couldn’t sign the godforsaken contract, why he couldn’t even go into his office in monaco, where it sat on his desk.

lewis snapped out of it, the faint buzz of the window rolling down bringing him back to reality. you inhaled the fresh air deeply, the stale, cold air between you suddenly refreshed.

he reached over the centre console, his left hand grazing your thigh. he gripped your soft flesh, a silent request for you to look at him, smile. if you looked at him and smiled, he knew he’d be okay.

you didn’t even flinch, didn’t even turn your head. you just watched the hills roll away until they were lost to the ugly, stony motorway he had merged onto.

-

“talk to me.” lewis’s tone was even, he wanted to be as optimistic as ever going into this conversation, but it was hard when your eyes burned holes into the wall instead of him.

“about what?” you sounded bored, disinterested.

“please don’t be like that.” he begged.

“like what?” you murmured.

“like… that!” cold. cold was the word.

“so you want to talk to me now? or do you just feel guilty?” you interrogated him, and he hated it. he felt like a child.

“fine, be that way.” he muttered, pushing off of the sofa in your living room to retreat angrily back to your bedroom, from where he’d just emerged.

“no, lewis, i just find it interesting that when i want to talk to you, and when i am begging you to tell me what’s wrong, when i’m worried sick about you, you don’t want to talk. so, please fucking forgive me if i don’t feel like having a chat!” you snarled.

“what do you want me to say?” he was defensive, cagey. it was never like this, in all your years together, it was never like this.

“i want you to tell me why you can’t sleep, why you leave me in bed at the crack of dawn, why you will not breathe a word of that fucking contract!” you shouted, months of frustration tearing through your surface.

“because i’m scared. is that what you want to hear? i’m scared.” lewis’s voice boomed in the echoey space, trailing off into a whisper.

“of what? of me?” you could have wept, barely holding it together.

“of everything except you.”

“lewis-“

“i don’t know what to do. i don’t know what’s right for me. i have never felt so out of control in my career.” the way his voice shook broke you into a million tiny little fragments.

“why didn’t you tell me?”

“because of all the things i can’t wrap my head around, you are not one of them. you are the only certain thing in my life, and i just… i don’t want that to change.”

“lewis, there is nothing you could do, nothing you would ever do, to drive me away. you are everything to me.” you had closed the gap by now, stood toe to toe with him, your breaths mingling as your fingers interlaced with his.

“i’m sorry.”

“don’t apologise, just… there’s one thing you need to do for me.” you searched his eyes, thankful for the way his body had relaxed at your touch.

“anything.”

“get your phone, call toto, and sign.”

“but i-“

“you know what is right. you have always known. you know that they will win this for you. you always rise, and you will again this time.”

“i’ll do it for you.” he whispered into your ear as you pulled him into a tight embrace.

“you’ll do it for everything you stand for.” you replied carefully, tracing the tattoo on his back that you knew all too well by now.

still i rise.

#lewis hamilton #request #anon #lewis hamilton blurb #lewis hamilton fic

[dearbaji]

Research (Alien! Shigaraki x Reader SMUT)

CW: hint of noncon turned consentual (not diabolical... not dubcon?), dash of yandere/stalker if you squint, abduction, quirk use, fingering, afab reader who is a little too chill, 1528 words Thank you @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love for this idea! Tried something new and it was really fun! mwah mwah mwah 😘

Upon waking up you see a bright white light. You move your hand to shield your eyes, but can’t. Both your arms and your legs are tied down to the ends of a table. Wires flow like rivers all over the floor and walls, their end nonexistent. Panicked, you try to recall the last thing you remember: listening to music and reading in your room… no, making a to-do list for the following day? No… sleeping? That’s impossible, it was only 9pm. Either way you knew you were at home, but now you’re not. 

Taking another glance around the room, you see machines unfamiliar to you. Large tubes filled with liquid were labeled with unknown markings at the bottom. Was this a science lab? Looking out of what seemed to be a window there was nothing but darkness and stars. You contemplate if screaming for help will benefit you. Either this was legitimately outer space or someone with a deep affection for the solar system kidnapped you. Maybe this was a dream, try to wake up. 

As your heart hammers in your chest, you chew on your cheek, hoping the pain was enough to wake you from whatever was going on. The sound of footsteps makes your head turn toward a hallway. Based on the depth and speed of the steps, you knew whatever was coming wasn’t human. You yank at the restraints to no avail. A tall, lanky figure appears at the end of the walkway. There’s no face yet, but you can tell this 8 foot tall creature was a male, and definitely not human. As he walks, his arms swing along his sides, lengthy fingers relaxed but still reaching below where his legs bend. Although terrified, you’re also mesmerized, almost enchanted by his walk. It’s slow, but it exudes a sort of confidence, somewhat like a commander. He gets closer and you can finally make out all of the details. His skin is pale, nearly translucent. The veins in his hands and arms become more prominent as he sways them with each step. His vermillion eyes focus on you as he stalks toward the table. White-ish powder blue hair cascades down his back unruly. As he approaches the table your breathing is still rough, but you ask, “are you going to kill me?” As soon as the question left your mouth you realized how silly it sounded, as if he would actually answer. He looks at you puzzled, leaning down, getting closer and closer to your face. You try to hold your breath and look away slightly, but he still stares, examining your face. He raises a finger to your temple and closes his eyes. You shut yours as well, preparing for the worst, but all you feel is a light jolt of electricity. “What did you say?” he asks, peering down at you. Your eyes snap open in confusion then squint, his frame casting a shadow because of the bright light above you both. “You speak my language?” you ask. “Now I do”, he states plainly. “Think you could untie me so I can sit up, then we could talk?”

He stares at you for a moment more before moving on to another bigger table filled with instruments. “Negative. I must research you more. Take samples. I’ve been observing you on Earth for a while. Now would be the most optimal time for extraction,” he says while picking through the tools. Extraction? Samples? He’s been watching you for a while? Eventually the questions reeling around in your mind stop when you feel him touch your shirt and pants with his entire hands, disintegrating them. Laying on a pile of ash, your instinct is to try to close your legs, but you can't. Your knees jerk together in many failed attempts to meet. “It’ll be less painful if you stop moving,” he says, observing the way your body shifts and twitches.

His slim, nimble fingers pull and poke at your face first: pushing back your hair, pulling your eyelids open to view your eyes as they move around, pushing up the tip of your nose, roughly opening your mouth for your teeth then prying your jaw open to pull on your tongue. One hand holds your mouth open while the other reaches inside, a little too deep. You gag as the drool starts dripping down your cheeks, but he doesn’t stop poking around. He retracts his hand after a moment with strings of spit still hanging from his fingertips. You try to catch your breath, coughing while he moves further down your body.

He pushes your breast and watches it jiggle. You try to bring your arm down to cover yourself, once again, to no avail. “Wh-what are you doing?” “Research.” He notices that one part of your breast starts pebbling, so naturally he starts touching it. Your face heats up, as much as you should hate this, it feels… nice. He pushes down on your nipple like a button before rolling it around like a joystick. Your body sinks further back into the table as if you’re trying to get away from him. He continues, watching your reactions: your eyes closing, eyebrows knit together, lips pressed in a line as you try to hold back any sounds you might make, your head tilted to your shoulder still trying to hide from his gaze. Two fingers pull gently at your nipple, then a little harsher as you turn toward him. “Nothing comes out? What is in here?” he asks, squeezing and jiggling your breasts again. “I don’t know, muscles and fat?” “You don’t know what is inside of you?” he questions. “Do you know what���s inside of you?” you retort. He stares at you for a moment more, hands still on your breasts. You rethink your reply and start to take it back when he moves down to your belly button. He presses down with one finger, seemingly trying to enter it but nothing happens. You stifle a laugh since it was a bit ticklish but he moves on. 

Once his fingers hit your pelvis, your legs start trying to close again. He pauses for a moment then goes to the bigger table. In his hold, he has something to prop your knees up a bit. Once your dusted clothes are brushed away and everything is in place, he tightens the restraints on your ankles. Carefully, he looks between your legs. He sees that there’s some liquid pooling onto the table, so he retrieves something that resembles a petri dish. In his attempt to collect some, he ends up massaging your labia, gently touching your clit every now and then, which makes even more fluid appear. Once he’s collected enough, he takes a slow swipe down your folds and watches the liquid stick to his fingers, smearing it on his fingertips and spreading them, observing how the strings snap. He notices your breathing pattern change, along with how flushed you look. One finger slowly enters you and you gasp. His finger keeps swiping and poking as if he’s looking for something. He takes his hand away and inserts it again, using two fingers as his other hand spreads you apart. His fingers are only halfway in as he prods and glides across every centimeter of your walls. As he tries to go deeper, you yelp. “Please, please stop, it hurts now,” you beg. He stops and removes both hands. “I apologize, I do not wish to harm you.” His manner surprises you, it’s different from what you expected because of what you usually see in typical alien abduction movies. “Can I continue with my research? It’s really important. I will not go any further than I did before.” You nod and relax a little more. He returns to his position and enters his fingers even slower than before, dragging his fingertips against the soft, slippery surface. Unknowingly, he sets a steady pace, making you dizzy with want. “Faster, please.” He pauses and looks at you curiously. “You want me to quicken my examination? Why? Your home is lightyears away, there’s nowhere for you to go right now, why rush?” He has a point, but you can’t tell if he’s serious or messing around with you. Answering anyway, you say: “because, it’ll feel better… for me.” He makes a mental note of it but continues with his original pace.

You strain yourself bucking your hips to meet his hand’s unintentional thrusts. One of his bony knuckles rubs against your g-spot, making you move faster. He lets go of your labia to hold down your hips, making the heel of his hand rub your clit. “Stop moving around, I’m almost done.” You feel static all around your body as it slackens, your walls still pulsing around his fingers. “Interesting,” he claims, pulling his fingers out to reveal a cream-like substance. He stands and grabs another dish, wiping one finger along the edge to extract the residue. As he looms over you again you stare back at him, heaving. He inserts the other coated finger into his mouth, sucking on it slightly. “What-” you start. “It is part of the research.”

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki scenario #shigaraki smut #shigaraki smut scenario #tomura shigaraki smut #shigaraki tomura smut #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #mha smut #mha x reader #mha scenarios #mha x reader smut

[rubydoowhereru]

What if.... Giant Kraken Ruby was her own person? I call it Ruby and her Titan.

Like a Naruto and Kurama kinda of thing.

Like Ruby and Titan!Ruby are seperate entities that share one single body.

Titan!Ruby is massively pissed off the moment Ruby turns into her. It's been what? Fifteen years since her first awakening and her mother has kept them from the water? Nah, she wants to throw tentacles.

Agatha and Grandmamah have it except theirs are on good terms. Titan!Ruby is always demanding her smaller counterpart to be released to stretch her three legs and shoot a few laser eyes at some wrecked boats.

Titan!Agatha pleading her Titan!Daughter to sit down and take a breather. But Titan!Ruby is just stomping around kicking stuff and punching small hills out of frustration.

Agatha and Ruby can communicate in some telepathic dream state kind of ordeal and they can hear how pissed off Titan!Ruby is from not being let out for so long and has been sleeping for so long to the point she is full blown crying her heart out. It's not fair that her counterpart gets to live her life without any idea or knowledge of her existence whatsoever.

Agatha explains to Ruby that their titan sides are hard to control and Ruby just side eyes her mother's titan and looks back her mom who awkwardly smiles... yea hard to control, mhm.

Grandmamah and her titan always get along because their only thing they share is their love for fighting.

Chelsea or Nerissa (whichever) tries to manipulate Titan!Ruby and Ruby to join the mermaid's side but backs off the moment that Titan!Ruby just wants a friend of her own.

The mermaid can't help but feel heartbroken that a Kraken having the most cutest expression can pull off a sad face that she decides to be her "friend".

What do you think?

Plus!

I find it odd that no one thought of the idea of Krakens purring like crocodile's or alligators.

I know next to nothing about Naruto but that idea sounds wicked as heck and I love it.

Ruby before the events of RGTK constantly hears this odd nagging little voice in the back of her mind to jump in the water, explore the ocean, etc etc. She never tells Agatha about it though because she doesn't want to worry her mother.

Titan!Ruby is just the literal manifestation of Ruby's deep subconscious urge for a sense of freedom within her rule-abiding life. Gosh, I can imagine when Titan!Ruby turns after bursting through the library she's not terrified or scared. She's bitter, angry, but also relieved at finally being unleashed. Instead of running off to hide however, like Ruby would do, Titan!Ruby actually goes on a mini-rampage and wrecks even more of the school. Mostly because she's angry over the fact they've been so close to the water this whole time but Agatha's stupid rules have prevented Ruby from letting herself free. But it gives the students a legitimate reason to see the kraken as a monster, because Titan!Ruby just bulldozed her way straight through the school before heading into the water for the first time in years.

PAPS MY HANDS. Chelsea's Titan form is Nerissa and the big difference between the four is that while Titan!Ruby is certainly aggressive and bitter and angy, she ultimately just wants Ruby to be able to experience life alongside her together. Titan!Nerissa however wants to take full control of both forms, her true titan self and Chelsea. Chelsea trying to do things her own way and Nerissa literally forces herself in charge of the body to make Chelsea do what she wants.

I love it tho.

Krakens making big ole bellows though. That would be terrifying but also oddly adorable!

#ruby gillman teenage kraken #ruby gillman

[itsgoghtime]

Hello hello! I’ve missed you all and I’m super excited to get back into all the analysis posts for all the amazing fics that are coming out! (@sophieswundergarten you posted a new chapter on yours the day I decided that I was going to finish these ones and DANG ITS SO GOOD and I have thoughts that I will post on yours later!)

Spoilers and all the thoughts ahead for one of my favorite fics in the world, S.O.S. Chapter 5 : Broken Legs and Broken Wings

can I just say... I love birds. thank you.

I cannot imagine having nightmares like Curtain, okay? that just sounds absolutely awful - going from Nicky leaving, to his parents abandoning them (and the sadness from knowing that he doesn’t know), to his parents deaths, to SQ BEING THE ONE IN THE WHISPERER AND SHRIVELING LIKE THE PEOPLE IN THE MUMMY MOVIE GAHHH - still recovering from this one... that would be extremely traumatic.

okay but then lil SQ showing up at his bed and Curtain - “still half asleep, jumped and recoiled into his bed away from the voice” I imagine he just has this lil clown laugh that he does when he’s freaked out like that and it now lives in my head

CALLS HIM NICKY AHHHHH - I love how often this really comes up and all the dang symbolism in those moments - GOOD HEAVENS and then we get the innocent “I’m not Nicky. It’s me, SQ.” and his dream about the dark room sounds eerily identical to the Waiting Room in the book... I’m sure you did that on purpose but dang that would be legitimately terrifying

SQ and the sleepover request - you keep him safe buddy, you keep your dad safe  - and then we get this gem after Curtain and his “nightmare about paperwork and stressful grown-up business” BRO ITS TRAUMA AND YOU DENYING IT DOES NOT HELP YOUR SONNNNN - but anyways, we get this line that I love “However, after his recent nightmare, there was nothing Curtain wanted more than to have his son close to him.” jeez tugging at my heartstrings like they’re electric guitar strings or something

we get stern dad Curtain but how they both just snuggle in and say the “goodnight I love you” GAHHHH MY HEART

I absolutely adore the idea of SQ going out with binoculars and his lil art supplies and going out into the wild and that Curtain encourages that (until he wants to go see his dang friends in the dang woods outside the dang fence ANYWAYS) - here’s one of my absolute favorite lines - “SQ’s favorite thing to paint were his friends, and the particular kind of friends he was interested in was a trait he inherited from his birth father.” 

okay and I love the idea that someone came up with that SQ is psychic - he knows their names AND HE HAS A FAVORITE - I’m rooting for Oliver too, SQ 

BUT OLIVER FALLS - WHAT NOOOOO OLIVERRRRR

oh my good gracious heavens - “10 feet is 10 feet... not 9.5, so I’m going to have to ask you to back away, unless of course you’d like an official demerit.” Jeffers what in the world bless your sweet soul WATCH FOR FREAKING SQ YOU SILLY SILLY MAN - NO THIS ISN’T A PAY RAISE FOR YOU

I absolutely loved the “Jeffers was still in the process of scaling the fence,” like, yeah that guy wouldn’t be the kind of kid that did that in his free time in the summers trying to get home from his best friend’s house at night before his mom got mad... anyways let’s continue - “when Milligan, who had been off in the distance when he had seen SQ fall, rushed towards the fence, and vaulted over it, in one heroic swoop, causing the fence to wobble and Jeffers to lose his balance.” hehe SUCKAHHH - the 6′5″ large man would show him up *coughcough somebody was definitely captain of the rowing team and somebody else definitely wasn’t coughcough* - but the hatred that Jeffers lowkey holds against him is something you can totally see later

Curtain being a good dad. yes.

Dr. Wetherall. Yes. yes yes. BRING BABY KATE YESSSSSS

okay so the Curtain being a good dad moment is slowly beginning to fade... lil SQ is afraid :( and the whole “Shepherd Quaid Curtain... please answer my question.”  does not help

the SAFE line gahhhhhhh - coupled with “Curtain sighed and pressed his lips together. A bird. His son was talking about a bird.” okay Curtain but you’re the one who won’t let the poor boy make friends - I get the point about keeping him safe and not letting other people mistreat him for whatever reason, but this is your problem my dude

and SQ is so worried about him - “But he’s my friend... And he’s still down there and he’s probably so scared and cold. And what about his family? They’re probably worried about him. I have to go back and save him dad!” my good heavens we also just get the “Maybe it was the way that Pedalian had said those same words before he died: ‘I just wanted to save her.’” from Curtain and I just...GAH

oh jeez - Curtain, friend... again, I understand being triggered and reminded of Pedalian and also being protective of SQ, but I think he’s sometimes so blinded by the need to protect him that we have situations like this where he doesn’t see SQ, if that makes sense. It’s so evident not only in the way he speaks to SQ, but also when SQ winces and he thinks something is hurting him - duh Curtain, ITS YOU 

we go between stern, mean dad Curtain and concerned, gentle, decent dad Curtain and you can totally see why SQ ends up the way he does later... ouch

I mean, going with this idea, we have “What on earth could have made SQ think his father was capable of something like that?” and “There was something about this reaction that disturbed Curtain even more.” - it makes me kinda sad for him, because he’s unintentionally pushing SQ away with how he’s parenting him - SQ can never really count on how his dad will react in any given situation because he’s so... all over the place. 

“The person Ledroptha Curtain intended to make feel horrible was someone else entirely.” is one of the best lines that has ever been written - it’s then followed by a bunch of screaming from Curtain (who makes a lot of valid points) and then “SQ might have spent his life in a chair due to your incompetence!” our dear Jeffers - here’s one of the first examples of failing to secure the perimeter... to be followed by many many other instances...

also Jeffers not catching the sarcasm and thinking that he might actually lose his job to Wetherall - bless his soul - no Jeffers, the literal reason you’re there is because you’re unaware and ask no questions (the very reason that Wetherall ends up leaving... mentally...)

I really appreciated the line “If there was one thing Curtain needed to impress upon his employees, it was that keeping his family safe was their top priority.” 

“...the next person responsible for SQ getting injured on their watch was going to experience the full wrath of Ledroptha Curtain.” heheheee YES

“...this image was always shattered when he stood next to Milligan, who towered above Jeffers, and now because Milligan had proven his physical superiority by stealing what was supposed to be Jeffers’ big moment (saving the boss’ son) and turning it into Jeffers biggest shame (failing to secure the perimeter).” AND THEN “Jeffers didn’t exactly have a plan for how he would accomplish this (he wasn’t the planning sort of man), but he knew that when the opportunity arose, he was going to seize the moment and prove himself. Somehow.” this man has impostor syndrome and I think it is the funniest thing - I get why he feels the way he does and it’s valid, but knowing that it’s Jeffers just makes it hysterical

okay but then Curtain has the moment of “...even though he hadn’t been yelling, he had raised his voice quite a bit. And SQ had always been sensitive to noise. Well, and of course Curtain had also stood up to his full adult height, which does look rather intimidating from a five-year-old’s perspective.” AND THEN THE LINE ABOUT OLIVERRRR - yes it’s a bird, but as a wise song from a movie once said, “Critters have feelings too” and Oliver is SQ’s friend

I love love LOVE “Curtain remembered the way that his son had looked at him when he said those words. Desperate, pleading with his father, staring at him with his adorably wide innocent brown eyes. Pedalian had had those eyes. Nicholas had them too.” ANNNDDD “One day, Ledroptha Curtain was going to learn to say no to those eyes. But today was not that day.” nobody can say no to those eyes. my freaking HEART GAH

Putting on his hiking boots and getting the flashlight - YES CURTAIN YESSSS

oh my good gracious heavens - Jeffers put up TrAfFiC cOnEs and CAUTION TAPE WHAT - he cracks me up and I think I have laughed just as hard every time I’ve read it

hehehe the “Instead, he scaled the fence (though with great difficulty) ad made his way down to the other side) we all know who the captain of the rowing team was and who wasn’t, don’t we

but then “Curtain sighed. His son was really going to resent him now.” with “He shined the flashlight in the direction of the noise and found Oliver, still alive, but struggling to move.” HE’S CALLING HIM OLIVERRR AHHHHH

both of lil Oliver’s wings are broken - like SQ ;(

I also love the glimpse we get into Nicholas and Nathaniel at the orphanage - SQ really is so much like Nicholas and I love that for just a moment, it seems like he draws on that experience and isn’t doing his usual “I hate Nicholas” routine and takes Oliver home

from the very beginning of this, I have loved seeing SQ and Kate’s friendship. He draws her pictures and I think that is the cutest thing - and I’m sure the Wetheralls have SQ’s art up in their home.

KATIE-CAT - AHHHHHHHH

You can see Curtain is trying - yeah, he isn’t the best parent, and he really should probably be a little more self-aware, but he’s trying

OLIVERRRRR - I love that Curtain tended to the lil bird and SQ’s excitement? My soul is filled.

“Thank you dad... I love you”

“I love you too, Shep.” GAH

okay but Garrison standing outside SQ’s room, Milligan finding her... my heart

I really... can I just say, I have really learned to appreciate Garrison by reading SOS. Watching her in the show, I don’t feel like I was really able to understand the depth of her character because we’re so invested in everyone else’s story (which is still magnificent and amazing). But reading SOS helped me really see her value and how relatable she is - it’s become my canon anyways haha - but overall, Garrison just needs a hug and good friends (like Milligan, but we all know what happens there... ouch)

she’s still so worried about SQ... but there’s that mental image of Pedalian in her machine and thinking SQ will ask her questions... mY hEaRt hEaVeN fOrBiD

And we get more of the relationship between SQ and Curtain - makes me so freaking sad but there’s some cute wholesome moments that I also love

“You don’t need to be afraid to talk to him. Pedalian’s death wasn’t your fault. You know that, right?” GOOD GRAVY my heartstrings are all tugged

Tommorrow, Tommorrow, Titration tomorrow - GAH (someone needs to write the lyrics of “Tomorrow” from Annie to that line from the show ahahaaaaa)

As sad and ironic as the line is about Garrison’s lab being underground and it not being good for someone who’s trying to recover (haha I can relate) BUT I thought there’s such an interesting point to the line about the Whispering Gallery being at the top of the tower when “...the machine would have worked just as well underground with the rest of the lab.” I mean, it just feels like another power play from Curtain of “I’m higher and better than you” so much that he literally designs the building that way. Maybe I’m reading into that too much, but I thought it was interesting.

haha - Garrison not understanding what the antennas are for is absolutely hilarious AND THEN Curtain totally is just like “let’s brainwash the world with all the good feelings” without saying it outright and I think that’s hysterical because it totally covers season one and season two

AND THE LINESSSSSSS - poison apples poison worms, friends, it’s all there and I love ittttt

for no reason at all, Curtain talking about his “student volunteers” reminds me of that post that’s been going around recently about crazy grandpa Curtain electrocuting children in caves and I cannot undo the comparison in my brain

he makes it so much about their business arrangement it hurts my heart for Garrison

Curtain suggesting a nap is me trying to convince myself to go to sleep every night heheheee

I also think it’s interesting that Curtain recognizes that SQ is a barrier between him and Garrison, and that it’s probably part of the reason that he keeps SQ so close all the time. I’m sure there’s other reasons too, but that just clicked for me when I read it

THIS LINE - “As much as he was not willing to part with his vision for the future, a future where he could have complete control, where he could keep his family safe, where he could have all the power and security he wanted, Ledroptha Curtain was also not willing to give up the only friends he had ever had. Not after what he had already lost.” all of it. is. just. AMAZING. we’ve really watched him go down so slowly it hurts watching him hurt and think that it has to come to this - also the fact that he’s emotionally preparing for his friend’s betrayal hits very close to home due to past experience

SQ and the bird in the cage being imprisoned together is so symbolically symmetric. I love it.

Ledroptha “Control is good because it protects my family” Curtain bless his soul

AGAIN WITH TITRATION - if I remember after I finish all these analysis posts, I’ll write the lyrics to that tune because it now lives in my head rent free along with all our Muppet MBS song adaptations hahaaaa

Katie-Cat. My heart.

Milligan takes the ferry - probably best he lived away from them as long as he did... but knowing how things happen makes that line hurt

Kate would be a fantastic lab manager though - and Milligan is just so proud of her (this should be part of the “Tomorrow” adaptation for sure)

also Milligan is literally just the best. The Wetheralls are the cutest and it’s just so sad that things happen the way they do - I understand why, but gosh dang - it almost hurt more the second time around

---------------

Another amazing chapter - I feel like this one was one of my favorites, just with all the different perspectives we get to see - and lil SQ and Kate, the ultimate friendship that we never got to see

I also just really love the title of the chapter - there’s a lot of symbolism not only because of SQ and Oliver, but it’s also legs being broken like progress having to be stopped for a little while when Milligan and Garrison left. Broken wings like broken trust, broken friendships, and Curtain’s grounding himself fully in his vision for control. I love it.

Inspiring work as usual, @nobody33333333 - thank you for writing this, it has healed my heart (and continues to heal my heart) of the Season 3 hole that was there.

Love you all 💛,

Talk to you soon,

- Gogh 🌻

#the mysterious benedict society #mbs #mysterious benedict society #ld curtain #mbs disney #sos #sos chapter 5

[dylanadreams]

My last post about demons has got me thinking about other spiritual matters. How there are powerful spiritual forces in this world that a lot of people don't think about and can't see. It probably even sounds nuts to some people - the kind of thing that's only in movies. But it's the reason that I don't play around with such things - why I won't watch horror movies, especially ones with a spiritual element to them.

Let me tell you about an experience I had that I feel really awakened me to the reality of this sort of thing. (Um, I'm going to mention sexual assault so just a warning I guess)

When I was kid - I was maybe around 13? My aunt and uncle just moved into a new house. The first time I ever slept over at their house, I stayed in their guest bedroom, and that night I had a dream. The type of dream that's hard to tell if it's really happening or if it's a dream because the setting of it is the actual place you're at - in that bedroom at night. I dreamt that a man was trying to rape me. After that when I woke up in the middle of the night, I woke my cousin up who had been sleeping next to me because I was terrified - I thought that man had been legitimately crawling toward me on the bed.

The next morning, I told my aunt and uncle about the dream. They were kind of startled because they were aware of the fact that the people they bought the house from - the guest bedroom I slept in had been their bedroom - and the guy who lived there apparently repeatedly raped his wife.

I had other experiences in that bedroom. Once when I was sleeping there, it was the same sort of thing where I couldn't tell if I was dreaming or awake. I was lying in bed in the dark and I saw these black shadowy things - almost made me think of the nazgul in the Lord of the Rings - they appeared hovering in the room above me. I was terrified and all I could think to do was to say the name of Jesus. I thought they were demons. So I kept yelling, "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus," and then they disappeared and there I was awake in the dark. I truly to this day don't know if that actually happened or if it was a dream.

Anyway, I think there was some spiritual stuff tied to that room where such awful things happened.

[ohmnonsquish]

Cross-posting my Bad Buddy fics seems like a good idea at the moment, but let's see how it turns out in the end.

Here is the link to the original story over on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46304947

If Our Love Was A Song

Bad Buddy — Pran x Pat

     IT’S BECOME A COMMON occurrence for Pran to wake, tangled — swaddled — in a mess of blankets and his clingy boyfriend’s addictive warmth. He can feel Pat’s even breaths hitting the sensitive skin of his neck, the feeling making Pran shiver slightly, and the familiar weight and warmth of Pat’s arm both carelessly and possessively anchored across his middle, staking his eternal claim even in the midst of sleep, makes Pran smile softly. He is used to Pat’s bouts of clinginess during the day, feeling helpless to submit when Pat whines for attention and affection, Pran wanting nothing more than to be pressed skin-to-skin even though he can’t quite shake his habit of pretending that Pat’s affection is the bane of his existence. The clinginess of his boyfriend was bad enough before Pran left for Singapore, and, to Pran’s equal delight and disbelief, Pat has only gotten more clingy and needy since Pran returned home a few short months ago.

     Pran will never admit it to anyone, least of all Pat, that he craves the taller man’s attention in a way that leaves Pran feeling as though he has crossed the threshold into obsession. Taking advantage of Pat still being fast asleep, Pran simply looks at his boyfriend without the chance of an interruption given the early hour. Brushing hair off Pat’s forehead, Pran can no longer fight back the soft smile when his boyfriend mutters something in his sleep that sounds suspiciously like he’s teasing Pran in his dream, the human embodiment of a golden retriever puppy nestling even closer to Pran, so that his head is buried into the join of Pran’s neck and shoulder.

     It’s so simple, almost a base instinct at the end of the day, but it makes Pran’s heart ache in the best way possible, because, truth be told, having Pat by his side is a dream come true. He wonders what has allowed him the chance of peace after so many years of tension and nail-biting anxiety, but, he supposes, that there’s no point in looking a gift-horse in the mouth; that he has finally gotten his heart’s desire, the time it has taken be damned.

     There was hardly a day that went by, before they got together, that Pran was terrified of Pat finding out about his not-so-friendship-acceptable feelings towards the other boy — and, of course, Pran was also scared of his parents finding out that he and Pat were even remotely close. Both of those things have happened, one far more recently than the other, but there’s still a thrum of anxiety that electrifies his veins on occasion, even though he knows that there’s nothing their parents can do anymore; they have no leverage to use against either boy and force them into separation. When it comes to Pran’s feelings for Pat, he knows that the other boy feels the same in return; that it’s not a one-sided relationship, but he’s still scared for Pat to know the depth of his feelings — the ones that border on obsession and addiction; the ones that legitimately scare the absolute hell out of Pran some days.

     Right now, all Pran wants to do is cling to Pat and never let the boy out of his sight again.

     Pat mumbles out an unintelligible mix of words and groans sleepily, his body stretching and tensing against Pran’s before going lax and a sigh is pushed from his lips, barely a coherent thought in his mind as he presses a soft kiss to the skin of Pran’s neck. The sharp intake of breath makes him smile, because of course Pran is already awake — he usually is unless Pat is determined to wake up before his boyfriend and attempt to make them breakfast without setting something on fire. There’d be no need of Pran hiding his instinctive reaction to the simple kiss if he were still asleep — and Pran, no matter how hard he might try, struggles to properly hide most of his bodies’ reactions to Pat’s nearly constant affection when they’re alone, even though he’s had several years of practice in that exact department.

     “What time is it?” Pat mumbles against Pran’s skin, eyes opening just enough to know that the sun is barely above the horizon. “Pran, go back to sleep, baby. ‘S too early, sun’s barely up.”

     Pran laughs softly, shifting on the bed so he can rest his head against Pat’s without straining his neck too much. “I’m not planning on going anywhere, you big baby.”

    “Mmm, good. Gonna stay in bed all day.”

     He would argue, the words are on the tip of his tongue ready to rebuke his boyfriend’s words, but there’s something telling him that spending a lazy day in bed doing the bare minimum wouldn’t really hurt. In fact, after everything they’ve been through with the insanity of work and catching up with both friends and family since Pran came back, they really do deserve a day or three where they get the chance to do absolutely nothing except be with each other. So, instead of saying anything against Pat’s words, Pran hums in agreement and sinks into the mattress and his boyfriend’s warmth, smiling to himself as he feels Pat freeze in surprise, clearly not having expected Pran to agree with him so easily.

     Before Pat has the chance to voice his confusion, Pran wiggles down the bed and presses closer to his boyfriend, all but jamming his head into the crook of Pat’s neck in a strange form of retribution for all the times that Pat has done so to Pran as either a form of teasing or something far more enrapturing. Pran has known for years that Pat has a kink of sorts for his boyfriend’s scent, it’s something that he enjoys teasing Pat about in any way possible, but Pran has wondered, on and off, whether the same could be said for himself. After all, most of the time all it takes is Pat's arms around him, holding Pran to his chest and surrounding him in both warmth and the oddly fresh scent that exudes from Pat’s pores, for Pran to calm himself after a stressful day or something blowing up in their faces. And, though Pran will lie about it, Pat smells a certain way when things are getting a little more than heated between them, and it’s enough to make Pran’s head spin if he’s daring enough to bury his face in Pat’s skin and simply breathe.

     “And you call me the clingy one,” Pat teases with a soft smile, the arm he had strewn across Pran’s middle now curling around the shorter man’s back and pulling him closer. Pat himself shifts again, humming a sound of comfort as their legs entangle beneath the messy sheets, Pran capturing one of Pat’s legs between his own and refusing to let go when the broader boy tests the waters. “Baby, are you okay? Has something happened?”

     Pran swallows and pointedly keeps his face hidden against Pat’s neck, quickly calculating just how far he can push his lucky silence before Pat gets even more worried and forces the truth out of Pran — which he ends up quickly deducing that there’s no real point in trying to skirt around the truth. “It’s really nothing, Pat. Just the usual shit, but…”

     “It feels like more than normal?”

     “Mmm. I don’t want to think about anything right now, just want to sleep.”

     “Pran…”

     Pran groans in defiance and wiggles even closer to Pat even though there’s really no space between their bodies, skin burning where it presses flush against Pat’s shirtless body, pleasant and just the right temperature to fight off the early morning chill hanging in the air. Breathing as quietly as he possibly can, Pran nuzzles against Pat’s neck, laughing softly when his boyfriend shivers and instinctively tightens his hold around the shorter of the pair, holding him close and relishing in the simplicity of their little moment. While it’s not exactly rare, per say, for Pat and Pran to simply bask in each other’s presence without interruption, Pran has found that it doesn’t happen as much as he would selfishly like it to — and, to satiate the greed he holds for his boyfriend’s affection and attention, he wants more than what he’s been given.

     Pran wants so much more than he believes that he can have, even though he knows that Pat will gladly give Pran anything that he asks for, and he feels so selfish even simply thinking about taking what he wants — even if it comes with Pat’s all too happily, and enthusiastically, given consent.

     Heat stirs in his belly, heady and heavy, and Pran huffs against Pat’s neck, simultaneously hating and loving how the simple proximity of Pat to Pran himself has always had Pran wanting to claim the one he has loved for over a decade in every single way humanly possible. Although, that’s in no way meant to insinuate that Pran hasn’t done such a thing over the years they’ve been together, both hiding their relationship and not — or that Pat is, in any way, a passive participant when it comes to their sex life. Truth be told, Pran has long since found out that Pat has a habit of pretending to submit to his boyfriend before turning the tables on Pran, a habit of which he isn’t exactly against — especially when it satiates the possessive streak that he knows Pat has when it comes to Pran.

     And Pran himself is not much better when it comes to having a possessive streak concerning Pat.

     Whilst their competitions are far less common than they used to be, neither have lost their competitive streak in the slightest — and, in truth, it has only grown into something far more endearing than the usual mock nuisance that it used to be. The challenges that they lure each other into are far more… intimate, so to speak, in comparison to the childish and school-related competitions they used to enjoy facing off against one another in. Pran finds it fondly exasperating, but also downright appealing, when Pat gets a certain kind of playful and challenging glint in his fierce eyes, because he knows that neither of them will be in any state for going out into the public eye the next day.

     Pat huffs in playful annoyance but ultimately hugs Pran tight, hating how his boyfriend is once again not talking about what’s bothering him, but also knowing that Pran will tell him when he feels like he can put every little shred of feeling into words — or actions. Still half asleep, Pat stares at the sunlight barely coming through the outline of the blinds covering their bedroom windows and wonders whether there will ever be a time where he and Pran can simply be without having their friends or family almost literally knocking down the front door. He wonders whether any of them would listen if he told them to fuck off for a while; to give himself and Pran some space to breathe and simply exist as themselves without any kind of outside interference before they’re forced back to work in a few weeks.

     Pat supposes that, even if their friends don’t end up listening, he could always beat them black and blue — or scare them well enough into leaving himself and Pran alone for a single fucking day, or more if he’s lucky.

     It feels like years since Pat has been able to hold Pran in his arms while they slept, even though it was only last night that they fell into bed, limbs tangled together and their bodies slaves to the heat and desire that had taken root barely an hour after meeting up with their friends for dinner. Their usual competition had been thrown into the wind last night, neither of them playfully fighting for what they wanted to do, instead falling into a familiar rhythm of give and take that had left Pat’s head spinning and Pran struggling to level out his breaths, one of the latter’s evil smirks curling his lips as he looked over at his equally ruffled boyfriend. In Pat’s opinion, the dishevelled version of Pran that only he gets to see — lips bitten red, bare body covered with the claiming reds and purples left behind by Pat himself, and his usually tidy hair a ruffled mess atop his head — that is the most beautiful Pat has ever seen his lover. In short, it leaves him breathless.

     Waiting until Pran’s breaths even out against his skin, Pat reaches across to his phone on the bedside cupboard, quietly cursing the awkward angle, trying to make sure that he doesn’t wake his clearly tired — and seemingly vulnerable — boyfriend. Opening up the group chat they have with their friends, Pat warns the lot of them against interrupting himself and Pran today, without explicitly telling them to fuck off, and even pushes for them to keep their distance for a little while longer if at all possible. Given the early hour, he’s not expecting an instant response, so his eyebrows shoot up in surprise when both Korn and Wai send similar messages barely thirty seconds later, telling him, in not as many words, that he “needs to stop being such a horny animal and wearing Pran out.” Instead of gracing the idiots with a legitimate reply, Pat sends through a sleepy photo of him flipping them off, forgetting that Pran has his head buried into the join of his neck and shoulder until Wai sends back a vomiting emoji, Korn clearly choosing death as he sends a smirking emoji.

     Pat briefly wonders whether they’ve finally gotten their shit together and realised that the animosity they felt between themselves back in university was nothing short of sexual tension. But, knowing the stubborn fools that are both Korn and Wai, that day will only come when they’re old and grey.

     Rolling his eyes at the immaturity of the friends that himself and Pran have chosen, Pat locks his phone and quietly puts it back onto the bedside cupboard before tugging the blanket back up over their shoulders. Pran’s head is barely visible above the material, but Pat has known his other half to almost suffocate himself underneath the sheets on cool nights as he chases warmth and comfort, so he doesn’t worry too much about the guitar player being able to breathe. Sighing and relaxing into the warmth of his Pran, the drummer yawns and closes his tired eyes, pressing a soft kiss to the shorter man’s head before allowing sleep to once again take him by the hand and lead him into his dreams of Pran and his cute dimples. It’s rare that Pat doesn’t dream of his boyfriend these days, whether it be about the days gone by or about the years to come, and he can’t help but wonder if Pran dreams about him as well — a question which he has asked Pran many times, but all he has gotten in response is one of the other boy’s cheeky smiles.

    Sunlight is almost white in colour as it outlines the bedroom blinds the next time Pat opens his eyes, eyes squinting in the brightness as he peers at the digital alarm clock on Pran’s bedside cupboard, trying to read the glaringly red numbers. 09:23. Pat’s eyes widen in disbelief when he feels Pran groan in complaint at whatever move his boyfriend has made upon realising the time, the drummer looking down at the head now on his chest in shock, not able to comprehend that Pran — his punctual, schedule-driven boyfriend — is still curled up against him underneath the blankets at almost nine-thirty in the morning. The last time that Pran slept in past his usual seven-o’clock wake-up time, he had one of the worst fevers that Pat ever had the pleasure of being witness to, and Pat isn’t too fond of the idea that Pran has pushed himself into another burnout and made himself sick again.

    Lightly resting the back of his hand against Pran’s forehead, Pat sighs out a breath of relief at the lack of fever, but cannot help the frown that follows, because now he has very little clue as to why Pran is still in bed. “Pran, you awake, baby?”

     Pran grumbles out something unintelligible, reaching up and rubbing his eyes.

     “I’ll take that as a ‘maybe,’ hm?”

     “What time is it?” Pran lifts his head off Pat’s chest and partially sits up, looking over his shoulder at the digital alarm clock and huffing out a disbelieving laugh at the time. “Shit, is it really that late?”

     Pat hums in affirmation, reaching up with sleepy hands and trying to smooth out his boyfriend’s messy bed hair, smiling when Pran’s eyes close at the simple contact. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

     “Mmm, I’m okay, Pat. The sleep helped.” Pran lays back down and smiles sleepily up at Pat, seemingly unaware of the turmoil he’s created inside his boyfriend, still partially asleep and his brain not working at its usual capacity. “‘S warm and comfy…”

     Pat laughs in disbelief, a strange smile twisting his lips and a warm feeling pooling in his chest. “I bet it helped a lot, Mister “I-wake-up-before-the-sun-even-on-my-days-off.” Seriously, Pran, you need more sleep than you’re letting yourself have. You’re not in Singapore anymore — you’re here, with your “clingy ass boyfriend” who can tell that you’re still pushing to prove yourself even after everything that you’ve achieved.”

     “‘S break time?”

     “You’re less of a, quite lovable mind you, pain in the ass when you’re sleepy. Did you know that?”

     Pran grins. “So are you, love.”

     Much to Pran’s thorough amusement and Pat’s complete disbelief, the architect and the engineer laze about in bed until their stomachs force them from the warmth and comfort at midday, Pran hiding his face in Pat’s chest as they both laugh at the rumbling growls demanding food. He finds it oddly difficult to leave the bed, and Pat, but Pran knows that their hunger needs to be satiated before they even consider curling back up and sleeping the rest of the day away — and the playful puppy whine that leaves Pat when Pran climbs off him genuinely leads Pran to reconsider just how much they really need food, if only for a split second. The things that he would do for the drummer, the guitarist wonders whether any part of him remains even remotely sane when it comes to his boyfriend.

     For the sake of protecting himself from food splatters, Pran tugs on a shirt and pads out to the kitchen, rubbing his sleepy eyes and nearly stubbing his toe on the kitchen cupboard. The clock flicks over to twelve o’clock — to the middle of the day — just as Pran begins to cook up the minimally spiced curry he knows that Pat will devour like it’s going out of fashion. The simple smell of his favourite curry summons Pat from their bed, not bothering with a shirt as he sidles up behind Pran and wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s middle, softly nosing at the lightly painted skin of Pran’s neck with a small, proud smile. Pran hums softly, wholly content to be in Pat’s arms whilst he’s cooking, and leans back into Pat’s almost overwhelming body heat, feeling the taller man’s lips curl into a larger smile against his skin.

     Pran hums one of the two songs he knows will make Pat flustered and even more clingy than usual, an echoing sensation burning in his gut as he once again sings his feelings into the light of day and Pat’s deeper pitched voice accompanies his only slightly higher pitched voice. “ฉันว่าฉันเพิ่งได้รู้คำตอบ ว่ารักของฉันคืออะไร มันเป็นแค่เรื่องเล็กๆ ��ี่ขาดไปไม่ได้.” (“I’ve now realised what my love is about. It’s something small that I just can’t live without.”)

     Pat’s chest vibrates against Pran’s back as he continues the verse, and the song's composer can hear the smile in his boyfriend’s voice. “แค่เพลงรักหนึ่ง ที่เธอต้องฟังเอาเอง แค่เพียงเนื้อเพลงที่มันไม่มีอะไร แต่เธอและฉันก็เข้าใจความหมายที่ซ่อนในนั้น.” (“Just a love song that you need to listen to, just lyrics that are nothing new, but you and I know the meaning between the lines.”)

     It’s their song, through and through. While he started writing it in a vain attempt at a new song for the Freshy Music Contest years ago, not long after Pat had crashed back into his life with an almost adorable level of clumsiness, Pran could never quite finish the harmony or the lyrics. That is, he couldn’t finish them until he and Pat started that god awful bet about who would fall in love first, and then he couldn’t stop the words from filling every bare inch of the page. Even though he has an inkling that Pat long since knew of Pran already loving the engineering student, and Pran now knows that Pat had loved him since they were kids as well — even if the boy didn’t realise it himself until that day in the music store — it doesn’t make thinking back on their bet any easier.

     Torturous would be one way to describe it, but it was a level playing field that Pran was all too happy to use to his advantage and make sure that it would be Pat who confessed first. In reality, he’s still not certain as to who actually won their bet, but it’s really the least of his concerns now — especially since he has the big idiot clinging to him pretty much all day and all night, acting as though Pran is somehow going to be able to leave him alone again. The guitarist does suppose that it is a valid fear after everything they’ve been through over the years, because Pran has left him behind twice in their lives, even if he had no say in the first time he was shipped off to some ridiculous boarding school — and, hell, Pat even pushed for Pran to head to Singapore for the chance of getting a step ahead in his architecture career.

     “You’re going to have to let me go if you want to eat,” Pran says, nudging Pat’s bare middle with his elbow, fondly rolling his eyes when his boyfriend whines in playful misery and continues to cling to him — in fact, Pran feels Pat tighten his arms around his middle. “Pat, I’m serious, you overgrown puppy. You can cuddle me later.”

     Pran laughs as Pat lets out a pained noise, making it out to be as though Pran has asked the impossible of his clingy boyfriend, and, really, Pran is of half a mind to let their food burn and give Pat his full permission to hold on for as long as he would like to. But, in reality, the rumbling of their stomachs is becoming too much to ignore, and it’s a much safer bet to eat while they have the chance instead of ignoring their bodily needs for the sake of their emotional needs. Pat pouts for the entire meal, playing a one-sided game of footsie beneath the table that Pran tries his hardest to ignore, quashing down the smile that threatens to deepen his dimples and admit to Pat just how much Pran truly adores his boyfriend’s childish habits. It’s one of the habits that Pran is still struggling to break: hiding just how much Pat actually affects him, but Pran does suppose that it can be quite a useful habit at times.

     The instant that Pran puts away the final dish, not even waiting for him to hang up the tea towel, Pat latches onto his boyfriend, burying his face into Pran’s neck and grinning as the guitarist shrieks in surprise and whacks Pat with the damp towel, berating him through bouts of laughter. Pran doesn’t bother putting up a fight as Pat drags him back to the bedroom, and he barely gets the chance to throw the tea towel onto the bench in the process, focusing on not treading on his boyfriend’s feet as he’s essentially manhandled through the house. He is far more used to Pat clinging to him and dragging him places now, so much so that Pran barely bats an eye and simply goes along with his puppy-like boyfriend, smiling adoringly at the bright glimmer in Pat’s eyes and the wide, playful grin on the drummer’s lips.

     Pran yelps in surprise when Pat forces the shirt over his head and then throws it far away before Pran can complain about there being more clothes on the floor, adding to the small pile in the corner of the room — their quickly discarded clothes from last night. He laughs as Pat all but tackles him to the bed, inhaling loudly at Pran’s neck and his hands burning against the once again bare skin of Pran’s hips, Pat playfully nuzzling at his prize. Pran’s hands find themselves a home, one on the back of his boyfriend’s head and the other resting comfortably on Pat’s thigh, the guitarist’s calloused thumb dancing across where the leg hem of underwear meets warm skin. 

     Pran imagines that this must be what home — heaven — feels like, and the world be damned if he ever lets Pat get away from him ever again.

#bad buddy fanfic #patpran #cross posted on ao3

[firealder2005]

Whumpcember 2022 Day. 13 FEAR OF THE UNKNOWN

Featuring: Luke Skywalker Having A Bad Time. Post-Empire Strikes Back. There are self-worth issues, self-hate, lots of internal conflict and the like so PLEASE BE CAREFUL

see the AO3 link for a more cohesive tagging.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43558857

Enjoy!

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Luke’s fears kept him awake at night.

That, and the nightmares.

The nightmares that Leia had seen, had shared in.

She hadn’t seen..that moment, not yet at least, and perhaps it was only a matter of time before she did.

He had considered just…telling her. But…

But what if she hated him? Luke’s stomach clenched at his selfish thought.

But it was true. Leia hated anything and everything to do with Darth Vader.

And what if that extended over to him, if he told her?

She’ll find out anyway, a taunting voice inside his head said. She’s been seeing your dreams…so she’ll see it soon too.

Maybe, maybe not.

Maybe that’s the real reason why he stayed awake when night fell, thinking that if he didn’t sleep, didn’t let the nightmares come, Leia wouldn't find out.

Because he was scared. Luke was scared she would reject him, would abandon him if she knew what Vader had told him on Cloud City.

He was the son of her most hated enemy. The man who had massacred so many people…

He was more terrified of Leia’s reaction, then he was of Vader himself.

Luke nearly let out a merciless laugh at that. Ironic that he feared his best friend more than the monster of a father he had.

Why had he gone to Bespin? Why hadn’t he listened to Master Yoda and Ben?

He had failed to save Han. He had to be saved himself. And he had lost his hand to his own father.

Maybe he hadn’t tried hard enough when he let go of the gantry in the hope that the shock, the sheer horror he felt in that moment, would go, would disappear if he didn’t exist anymore.

Maybe the galaxy would be better off if he hadn’t survived the fall…

Maybe Leia wouldn’t have to hate the son of a monster then.

(If she knew.)

Maybe Han wouldn’t have such a failure for a friend.

(Was he even aware that Luke had been there?)

And maybe…maybe Vader wouldn’t have such a pathetic excuse for a son.

(He sounded genuine in his offer…even after the beating he had delivered upon his own son.)

Luke rolled onto his back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling.

Would Leia hate him?

And did Vader really want him?

Luke let out a quiet snort, mindful of the sleeping Wedge nearby.

Irony strikes again.

He desperately wanted his best friend to accept him, even as the son of a monster, but he knew better. She’ll hate him, she’ll be right to hate him. What good could the offspring of such a villain do for the Rebellion?

And he so desperately wanted a father - all he ever wanted was to know his father.

But his is now a specter of evil, the walking nightmare of the Alliance.

And yet, there was still that traitorous part of him that longed to go to Vader, to finally know his father, to be accepted by him.

Then Leia could have a legitimate reason to hate him.

(Would she though? Would she really toss aside everything she knew about him and hate him on sight? The doubtful part of him reasoned, but Luke couldn’t bring himself to believe it.)

But no. He couldn’t do that.

As much as he longed for, desired to be with his father, he had to fight that urge.

Leia, and the Rebellion, was more important than his own selfish, childish wants. He was twenty-two, not a wide-eyed, naive seven year old innocently asking when his father would come home.

He was a Jedi-in-training. He was a Rebel. Best friends with the Princess of Alderaan and a quick-thinking smuggler. The Rebellion’s Death Star Pilot who had one-shotted the monstrous battle station.

He had trained with the Grandmaster of the old Jedi Order.

He had survived a duel with Darth Vader - and had been mentally, emotionally, and physically scared by him.

But he was still here. And Vader was still his father.

Vader was a monster, yes. There was no denying that. He never has, and never will excuse all he had done.

(And yet…and yet…there had been a speck of light within that monster…)

#whumpcember 2022 #whumpcember day13 #suicidal thoughts #alderwrites #depression #self-acceptance #self-hatred #self-worth issues #luke skywalker #leia organa #darth vader #star wars #star wars fanfiction #luke skywalker fanfiction #yoda #obi wan kenobi #wedge antilles #han solo #rebellion era #whump #whumpcember

[khalixascorner]

Penance

Summary: Becoming Superior had muted Tony Stark's emotions and his ability to sense his soul mate. Getting bit by a spider had amplified Peter's. When they meet for the first time, Peter loses control, lost to the primal need to bond. After force bonding himself to Tony, Peter is distraught and offers himself up for whatever punishment Tony deems fit. Tony puts this to the test before deciding to keep his little spider, even if they had a rough start.

Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Peter Parker, Omega Tony Stark, SIM Tony Stark, Dark Tony Stark, Scent Drunk Peter Parker, Soul Bond, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Forced Bonding, Making the Best of It, Honor Bondage, Verbal Bondage, lots of smut, First two chapters are darkest then it gets a bit fluffier, Sounding, top omega, face fucking, Lots of Sex, Aged-Up Peter Parker Age Difference

Read on AO3 here

Peter tried not to pace as he compulsively checked his desk and notes one last time. Today was his first official inspection since starting at Stark Industries, and he was terrified that he was going to fuck up and get fired. The Superior did not tolerate failure or stupidity in his company, especially not in his R&D labs. Other techs told horror stories and HR even made sure new hires didn’t start right before an inspection to try and cut down the turnover rates.

“Hey dude, chill,” Miles, one of the other lab assistants, hissed at him. “I know they’ve been telling stories but seriously, just be cool and you’ll be fine.”

Peter swallowed hard and nodded. He kept his hands firmly at his side, not trusting his ability to keep his strength hidden. Or heaven forbid he touch something and stick like he had done when he first got his powers.

Peter knew it was probably overly bold to work by day for the man that controlled the city with a gold titanium alloy fist when he spent his nights as a vigilante, but he also needed to eat, and SI was the place to work. If Peter was honest, pretty much any legitimate job in the city answered back to the Superior in one way or the other anyway, and at least this paid well. Plus, Spider-man was small time. He just helped the little guy and tried to stay out of the Legion’s way. And he definitely didn’t let the Avengers pull him into their nonsense. They wanted to overthrow the Superior, but Peter had seen the old news stories, had seen the statistics from back then. Life under the Superior was better for everyone. Kids didn’t go hungry, everyone had places to live, and anyone could get a good education.

Peter was someone who would have struggled before the Superior. His parents had died and his aunt and uncle didn’t make enough to care for him without stressing their finances. The Superior’s programs let them pull enough help to cover all of his needs and attend prestigious schools based on his merits alone. So the one time the Avengers tried to recruit Spider-man to their cause, he gave them a very clear no.

If he was honest with himself, Peter dreamed of revealing himself to the Superior. Maybe the man would even be impressed by his deeds, as the Superior always said he had overthrown the government to help the people that it no longer served. Surely he would appreciate that Peter just wanted to do the same, minus overthrowing a government.

But maybe that was naive, Peter thought as he eyed the door again. Would a man that had a reputation for throwing out people he found incompetent really be ok with a newbie hero? Either way, Peter’s plan was to work for him, get a feel for things, and then decide later.

His thoughts were interrupted as the door finally opened and the Superior entered. Peter’s focus zeroed in on the older man, his enhanced sight taking in as much as he could. Peter’s heart pounded, the sound of blood rushing filling his ears. He caught just a hint of a scent, something rich and warm, like a honey vanilla tea and a fire on a winter’s night and something that was just more.

Peter’s whole body trembled, something inside pulling tighter and tighter as the Superior started greeting the Lab Heads. Then he looked towards Peter, and their eyes met. Heat and something sharper shot through Peter, and the last coherent thought he had was MINE.

--------------

Tony had seen a lot of behavior from newbies over the years. His reputation was a bit inflated but it worked for him, and kept the idiots in line until they either pulled their heads out of their asses or got fired. He didn’t expect perfection, but there were still certain levels of excellence he wanted. Regardless, it has caused a fair amount interesting situations when new employees would meet him.

From stuttering, crying, or general muteness, Tony thought he had seen it all. The young alpha practically vibrating while staring at him looking shell shocked though? That was a bit new. When Tony let their eyes meet, something warm bloomed in his chest, but he didn’t have time to examine the feeling because the alpha snapped.

Tony barely had time to react as the alpha rushed him faster than Tony had ever seen an unenhanced move. He braced as the alpha threw himself into Tony’s arms, face immediately going for Tony’s neck with a whining sound.

The omega growled and tried to push the alpha off but was startled when the alpha didn’t budge.

“Get off me,” Tony growled again, trying to regain control of the situation, but the alpha was completely lost to reason. As Tony took a breath to order his AI’s to do something, he caught the kid’s scent. It smelled like coffee and petrichor and something warm that defied labeling. He also smelled like rut.

Tony swore and opened his mouth to call for help only to have the wind knocked out of him as he was spun around and shoved up against the nearest lab bench. Before he could react, his pants were torn off of him violently.

“Get your fucking hands off me,” Tony spluttered, his ire finally overcoming his shock. He was the Superior, and he was damned if he would be treated this way. Endosym bled from his body, and tentacles formed, reaching back towards the alpha only to be grabbed and pinned down to the table next to Tony by a single hand.

Tony heard more fabric tear behind him, and another growl rumbled out.

“Kid, if you put that knot in me, I swear I will rip that dick of yours off and feed it to you, you little shit,” Tony threatened, his armor liquifying and instead wrapping itself along the kid’s arm in an attempt to get an anchor.

All thoughts of stopping the situation vanished as the alpha thrust into him in a single movement and then bit at his mating gland. Instantly, Tony went limp, a whine slipping from his lips as his body submitted and accepted the alpha. Distantly, Tony was horrified. In all of his life he had never whined or whimpered for any alpha.

---------------

Peter came back to himself when he heard a whine beneath him. The alpha gave a muffled groaned at the tightness around his aching cock and the taste on his tongue. He realized his mouth was still latched firmly on the omega’s mating gland, and he groaned again, his hips picking up speed as his omega grew slick in response to the pheromones they were both letting out.

Peter released the gland and pulled back enough to readjust his hold on the omega’s hips, his mind focused on breeding his mate properly.

“Fuck, such a good ‘mega,” Peter growled. “My ‘mega, gonna breed you up so good, stuff you full of my knot.”

The omega arched beneath him, pressing back against him. Peter snuck one hand beneath the other man, and began fondling the thick cocklet until he felt the omega’s body tighten around him. It pushed him over the edge, and he buried himself deep inside the omega as he felt his knot inflate.

A warm rumble built in his chest and he nuzzled his mate. He had never felt so content or whole as he did in that moment, buried deep in his omega.

Peter was jerked from his post sex high by a sour smell. His eyes shot up and he realized that all of the lab’s staff were still there, staring at them. A few had even stuck their hands into their pants and were not so discreetly getting themselves off. That had Peter growling as he grabbed the nearest loose item to throw at the intruders.

“Get out before I break you in half,” he growled darkly. Everyone stared at him, frozen in shock, so Peter growled again. “NOW.”

That sent them running, and he huffed, burying his face back in his mate’s neck, drunk on the scent of home and the warm feeling in his chest. It made his hips jerk even though they were locked tight, wanting to somehow get even closer to the omega.

He couldn’t stop nibbling all over the omega’s neck, nuzzling and licking to soothe the little bites he made. His hands wandered, rubbing soothingly anytime they felt tense muscles underneath them, and soon his omega was relaxed beneath him.

Finally, his knot softened and he slipped out of the omega with a groan.

It was then that Peter’s brain finally came back online.

His emotions ran the gamut from startled confusion to horrified guilt as he realized that the omega he was cuddling was Mr. Stark.

-----------------

“Oh god, what did I do?” the alpha croaked, stumbling away from Tony. “Oh god, Mr. Stark, I-”

“Zip it, kid,” Tony interrupted, too irritated to deal with the alpha’s empty apologies as his heat kicked into high gear. “I’m going into heat now and since you are the reason why, you’re going to take care of it, understand?”

The kid nodded and Tony scoffed at the wide eyed look he was getting.

“Let’s go, kid, chop chop, heat waits for no one,” Tony called, storming off towards the elevators. If he was lucky, they could get to the penthouse and get the supplies ready before the worst of it hit.

#khalixa writes #starker #nff #tony stark/peter parker #omegaverse #alpha peter #omega tony stark #tw noncon #tw dubcon #mind the tags #like seriously people #don't say I didn't warn you #sfsummerbingo22

[kaelio]

When I was working as a graphic designer for PAWS Inc. (SE Asian Market) in Muncie, Indiana, I got stuck in what I can only describe as a triplex apartment between a group of BSU students and an elderly, mentally handicapped man who would tell us all about how he was the last person in his assistance program to still have a helper monkey. Apparently they've mostly been phased out or something?

Anyway, the kids who lived next to me in the triplex were obsessed with seeing this grandfathered capuchin and seemed to be split 50-50 on believing it even existed. I'd been there six months, the students almost a year, and none of us had seen or heard this thing in person. Kenneth - the old man - would stand on his end of the house and "water the grass", which really just amounted to chain smoking and hosing his corner of the lawn down. Anytime any of us went outside while he was doing this, he'd yell conversation to us. "Esquire (the monkey) turned off the TV during Final Jeopardy last night. I got so mad..." and "I caught Esquire eating out of the trash again. Such a pain in my ass." It was nonstop during the summer months.

So at the end of August, I was helping Kenneth with some legitimate yard work. He asked me if I wanted to come over for dinner, and even though Esquire did not come up in the invitation at all, he was my first thought. A chance to confirm this creature's existence. I jumped at the opportunity.

So that night, I have the worst meal of my life. Reheated spaghetti eaten out of Tupperware. No conversation. Just the sounds of us eating. Feeling weirdly nauseous and wanting to go home, I asked Kenneth where Esquire was.

"In my bedroom. He was acting up earlier. and I didn't want him bothering you during supper."

I should have accepted this, but I pressed on, saying I was full and just wanted to meet him before going home. At this point, Kenneth stood up, walked to his bedroom, slammed the door shut, and was in there for maybe five minutes or so. I was about to leave when he came out.

"He's about to bedtime out, but you can see him before you leave."

Here's my memory of that encounter, as filtered through my PTSD (semi-serious here - I could get diagnosed for sure):

Sock monkey sitting in a wicker chair next to a bed. Withered Cracker Barrel price tag still hanging off. White areas of the monkey stained with nicotine. A hole cut in between the legs. Kenneth behind me. I forget the exact words, but he did ask me to touch Esquire, so I half heartedly petted it and he slapped the back of my head. Whispered to me "F-fingerblast this little turd." That part I remember perfectly. And I did.

I won't dwell on the rest of the encounter. Suffice to say that it was a bad night for me, and finishing out that lease was hell. I don't regret anything but accepting the dinner invitation. Had I not become finger intimate with Esquire, he very well could have stabbed me. He'd been collecting knives since Vietnam. I noticed several pocket knives on a drawer in the bedroom alone. This was a scary dude, and it's hard to blame myself for it. But anyway, I ended up getting let go from my dream job right before the end of the lease, so obviously I didn't stick around for long.

All of this is just a roundabout way of saying that you should really, really be careful around this neighbor of yours. What seems and reads as funny online or to your friends can be a life threatening, terrifying experience irl.

--obeah (short story)

#always thinking about this short story #cw rape #cw assault #however....

[jedi-bird]

Got very little sleep last night and decided a nap was necessary to get through today. Didn't expect to have weird dreams about my family and remembering just how many times I was expected to accommodate everyone else but made fun every time I needed something.

One of my cousins was terrified of balloons after one popped in his face when he was two (understandable and completely legitimate). My grandma always made sure I put any toys away that even remotely resembled balloons (balls included); it was hard for me to understand at first because I was three but she patiently explained about being scared and how things looked similar and I got it enough to agree and go along with it.

I was terrified of the board game Operation. Even as an adult, everything about that game is designed to put me on edge. I hated the sounds, the hated the image, I hated the thought of taking things out of even a fake person. One of my cousins loved the game and always played it when we were at their house. So I used to go and sit with my grandma and the other adults (quietly, because I had been taught to not interrupt or bother them) and just wait until it was time to eat or leave. My aunt used to get so annoyed by this and would try to make me go back. I told her why I didn't want to and my grandma would insist I could sit with her. Until one day when my cousin said we'd play dolls and then pulled out the game. Before I could leave her room my aunt came in and set it in the doorway knowing I wouldn't step over it. My grandma found me an hour later crying all alone because I couldn't go near that game no matter what. I know they had a fight over that but don't remember it too well. After that, whenever we were at their house, my grandma made me stay with her to help her.

Different cousin destroyed a toy that my best friend had given to me at her birthday party. I never saw her again after that because she moved and then there was a major earthquake that killed people and I never could find her after. I loved that stupid little toy. It was a cake topper and she had specifically picked it out and given it to me. My cousin took it to play with at dinner and got mad at her dad about something and ripped it to pieces right then and there. I was devastated but got yelled at by that uncle to just grow up, it was only a stupid toy. That same cousin ripped up all my coloring books while staying with us once because she wanted to watch a movie and my grandma told her no.

I spent years making sure everyone else in my family was comfortable (locking my cats up in a side room when they came over because my aunt was allergic; specifically getting them their favorite drinks and foods even if it meant I had to skip lunches until my next paycheck; making sure my grandpa sent them Christmas and birthday gifts and cards and often using my own money to buy the stuff if he didn't have enough). And yet, anything that they knew would upset me that made sure to do. I guess they enjoyed my discomfort. They stole my stuff and destroyed it and tried to hurt my animals and always told my I was overreacting when I'd get upset.

I don't know why I'm remembering all of this today. I've moved on. I've gone very low contact. I'm in a better place. Maybe it's the insomnia catching up finally. Whatever it is, at least I can laugh about it now.

[theseaofbeasts]

Thought I'd better make some kind of introductory post so...

Hi, this is my blog to document my progress on my original story to hopefully become it's own book series one day: The Sea Of Beasts

The story follows two siblings, Maddie and Ben, who live in world not disimilar from ours, but it does have one major difference... There are terrifying beasts that lurk in the depths of the oceans...

Having grown up on the water, Maddie and Ben are more familiar with these monsters than most, however, after leaving home to start their own journey, they suddenly find themselves becoming way more familiar than they ever expected when Ben is turned into a Mermaid!

Now, these siblings must find a way to turn Ben back into a human whilst navigating hiding his condition and surviving on the open waters. Who knows what unexpected adventures await?!

Well... That was my first(?) attempt at a summary (blurb? pitch?) of the story, what do you think? Does it sound interesting?

The story obviously has a lot more to it than what that summary suggests, but, I kinda have too many ideas to put them all in a tumblr post...

I first came up with the initial idea for this story from a strange dream I had 4 years ago, and from the moment I woke up, I was building upon that idea and I've been rotating this story in my head ever since...

Since it has been 4 years since I first came up with this story, I have already made some kind of progress, and by that I mean I have an old google doc filled with thousands of words of word vomit that doesn't actually cover 1/8 of what I've come up with (also I've changed my ideas since then), and I also have a couple terrible drawings lying around somewhere.

I want to make some legitimate, structured and throughtful progress going forward, I'm not expecting to be fast, I have a job and a lack of writing experience. But I want this to be a learning experience for me and I seriously want to publish this story as a book series one day, even if it's 10+ years down the line.

#writing #i guess

[flickpulse]

List of scariest movies you shouldn't watch at night

My friend and I have a habit of watching horror movies together on weekends. It’s a great feeling to share the experience with someone who also loves scary movies as much as I do.

Last weekend, we watched “Hereditary” and it was a crazy ride. Personally, I felt scared and depressed throughout the movie, especially movies with demons that really give me chills.

However, it was a great horror movie, with no cheap scares and everything that was meant to be scary was genuinely terrifying.

I have a list of amazing horror movies that I’ve watched and this is the best one so far. If you’re planning to watch a movie with your girlfriend or best friend, this list might help you out.

The Descent (2005): Seriously, wait until dark, make the room completely black, turn up the sound, and watch the descent. One of the best atmospheric horror movies.

[Rec] (2007): I was so tense the whole movie waiting for the disclosure that usually explains the events and helps me chill and get on with my day, but holy sh*t the end of REC. My brother, I dreamed about her for days.

Grave Encounters (2011): It is creepy….

A Dark Song (2016): It made me think that the people who did Hereditary watched that movie first.

Caveat (2020): I love the way Damian Mc Carthy ratchets up the tension. I would love to talk about it more, but I don’t want to spoil anything for people who haven’t seen the movie.

The Void (2016): an underrated Lovecraftian horror film that stuck with me for weeks after I watched it.

Wolf Creek (2005): legitimately made me cry the first time I watched it, I was bloody terrified because of how grounded in reality it is

A Weekly Newsletter for picking out Movies worth spending time with on the weekends.

#horror movies #horror #film #movie #movie recommendation #horror film #70s horror #movies

[xtruss]

Congress Is Dropping the Ball on China Policy

— John Noonan | Tuesday 11 July 2023 | Newsweek | One-Sided Opinion

In An Acrimonious and Divided Congress, the emerging bipartisan consensus on China has been a heartening development. Americans increasingly see Beijing's soaring ascent as a threat to our security and way of life. Congress has responded with an avalanche of cross-party legislation, with Republicans and Democrats alike introducing new tough-on-China laws. But in keeping with President Ronald Reagan's old line that "the nine most terrifying words in the English language are 'I'm from the government, and I'm here to help,'" lawmakers are too often getting it wrong.

Some experts paint the threat from Beijing as an equivalent of the Soviet Union. That's accurate. But the Soviet threat was a military one. It was the Red Army and Russian ICBMs that Washington planners feared, not the proletariat's pathetic economy. As China's military threat grows, so too does the economic threat. Beijing's vast market makes American companies salivate. The population of China has grown by almost a billion people since JFK's presidency. That's hungry people in Shanghai who devour South Dakota soybeans, film buffs in Hainan who crave Hollywood drama, and eager motorists in Chengdu who love Detroit's pickup trucks. More American exports are a good thing. But they come with a cost. Opening China's ports to American goods meant dropping our guard in ways that the USSR of old could only dream of. And it is in this hazy new economic arena where Congress is fumbling the football.

A financial threat from a communist country is a new problem for lawmakers. While there has been positive momentum, such as the creation of Congressman Mike Gallagher's (R-Wisc.) effective new China Select Committee, Congress has too often taken legitimate problems and, through the deliberative process, made matters worse.

Consider the Inflation Reduction Act of 2021. This immense bill was sold to American voters as, in part, a useful tool for American clean-energy companies to compete with Chinese manufacturing. It was supposed to be good news and fresh jobs for the blue-collar Americans turning wrenches on lithium batteries, electric cars, solar panels, and wind turbines. But those are goods that demand vast stores of critical minerals and rare-earth elements. And the champion of that market, the actual processing of all those little boxes on the periodic table, is China. Rather than solving the pressing problem—Beijing's stranglehold on 90 percent of global rare-earth processing and refinement—we turbocharged China's dominance of the renewables market and sent pollutants into overdrive. It was a classic case of what we called in the military "Ready, Fire, Aim."

Beijing, China — The Chinese flag is raised during Beijing Winter Paralympics Opening Cerimony on March 04, 2022 in Beijing, China. Marco Mantovani/Getty Images

So too is a bill before Congress that claims to introduce competition in the credit card market. The Credit Card Competition Act sounds innocuous, but it puts massive amounts of private financial data at risk.

Proponents say the bill is tough on China because it bans UnionPay—China's state-owned credit card network—from the American market. Sounds good.

It isn't. China's UnionPay has two American partners for its global expansion—Discover and FiServ. Under this bill, all credit card purchases could be processed on Discover and FiServ's networks, thus giving massive amounts of new financial data to UnionPay's partners. In short, the bill bans UnionPay while making it stronger. Rather than incentivizing U.S. companies to be wary of partnering with Chinese Communist Party-backed entities, Congress would be pumping rocket fuel into UnionPay's expansion efforts.

"The Nine Most Terrifying Words In The English Language Are 'I'm From The Government, And I'm Here To Help,'" — President Ronald Reagan

The CHIPS Act is another example of Congress' tendency to commit medical malpractice when treating legitimate illnesses. Our greatest economic vulnerability is our overreliance on limited overseas suppliers of microchips. If China invaded Taiwan and shut off the island nation's microchip production—that's 90 percent of all advanced microchips—it could trigger an immediate global economic depression. The CHIPS Act was intended to close off that vulnerability and get microchip manufacturing humming here in the states. Instead, the sloppily written legislation created loopholes that could allow semiconductor companies to access billions in American taxpayer subsidies while simultaneously expanding their operations in China. While the Commerce Department has attempted to institute some guardrails to prevent America from funding the burgeoning Chinese microchip industry, experts warn that these measures are inadequate. Too much money was made available with too little fencing around the funds.

Folks! US is at Its Worst Hypocrisy. No Wonder Why America Is Fucked-up. Lies, Hegemonies, Hypocrisies, Corodile Tears on Democracy and Human Rights, War Crimes, Conspiracies, Cheating, Bullying and Much More.

It seems that every time Congress tries to crack down on China, it instead hands Beijing easy money and regulatory favors. Congress would be well-served by following the lead of Congressman Gallagher's China Select Committee: flagging all Chinese companies doing business here in the states and the countless quiet partnerships with American firms, and exposing the national security threats they pose.

Cribbing Will Rogers, the only difference between death and America's China policy is that death doesn't get worse every time Congress meets. Our lawmakers have woken up. That's positive. But so far, the treatment has been worse than the symptoms.

— John Noonan served as National Security Advisor to Senator Tom Cotton of Arkansas.

#Opinion #China 🇨🇳 #U.S. 🇺🇸 Congress #U.S. 🇺🇸Foreign Policy #National Security

[dreams232434]

Meaning of Dream about Musical instrument

Seeing instruments in a fantasy is a great sign.

The real detail around the fantasy is really significant. Dreaming about music is for the most part a positive dream. From the creepy crawlies to Ed Sheehan in the event that music or exhibitions showed up in a fantasy it can mean that you really want to show your actual likely throughout everyday life. The prizes acquired from paying attention to music in Meaning of Dream about Musical instrument is associated with our inward changed perspective. Playing an instrument is associated with being "genuinely high" and the music is actually the magnetism that you want to advance throughout everyday life. Watching somebody well known (Elvis or a big name) play an instrument in a fantasy (or even truly) is a significant, even profound experience. Live melodic exhibitions for the most part let you know that it is essential to contemplate how you connect with others.

Otherworldly importance of a fantasy of instruments

It is crucial for call attention to that, playing instruments in your fantasy might address the beat and musicality of cognizant existence. In the event that you're playing an instrument on a beat and in order, it implies that you're on the correct way throughout everyday life. It additionally proposes that you're settling on the ideal choices that will completely change yourself to improve things. Assuming your instrument shouts out, it implies that you're presumably not paying attention to others. You're generally thought to be as a narcissistic individual. Your fantasy is cautioning you of your activities.

Perhaps individuals around you have something essential to say that could be useful to you forestall a misstep.

Instruments or music, as a general rule, address arousing. You're most likely becoming mindful or more mindful of individuals and things around you. Music addresses self-improvement. The "kind of music" that you are making or are paying attention to in your fantasy uncovers your ongoing mental state. For instance, assuming you were paying attention to delicate, old style music, it implies that you're feeling quiet and quiet.

Your entire being is an ideal illustration of a grand ensemble, with every one of the various cycles, organs, and sentiments working as one when you're sound.

At the point when you consider it, you're similar to an instrument played by life.

What's the significance here to peruse music in a fantasy? At the point when you fantasy about perusing music in your fantasy, this can demonstrate that you are reflecting your own inside being - the mood of your pulse and breathing which plays you in any event, when you're sleeping. In any case, despite the fact that you capability as an instrument in your fantasy, you're not the same as other "instruments" and you have your keys, takes note of that hold you back from playing to your maximum capacity. Perusing music in dreams represents a wonderful change in your demeanor, conduct and mental state.

What Does a Guitar Mean in a Fantasy? Seeing or playing guitar in your fantasy addresses powerful urges and feelings. Assuming you played the guitar in your fantasy, it recommends that you're affected areas of strength for by. It is conceivable that these longings and feelings are related with sex and friendship. On the other hand, seeing this instrument predicts a bold individual who's not terrified to communicate feelings. The strings on the guiter can address "surprises" in a relationship.

Is it true that you are consistently legitimate with individuals you care about? Could it be said that you are straightforward with individuals you could do without? A guitar in your fantasy could likewise represent satisfaction and happiness. It likewise means spiritualistic characteristics, attunement, self-acknowledgment, harmony, and energy in your cognizant existence. Assuming you're playing the guitar, you're likely in charge of your life and feelings.

What Do A Boisterous/Uproarious Dreams Mean? Assuming your fantasies appeared to be extremely clearly, it implies that you're feeling overpowered by others' feelings and suppositions. You're additionally wrecked by a specific circumstance that you could do without to be in. "Uproarious dreams" could mirror the connections in cognizant existence. They uncover your absence of correspondence with your loved ones. Paying attention to noisy music during your fantasy implies that you're attempting to stay away from issues. On the other hand, you need to be let be. You're likely consistently encircled by individuals and need taking care of oneself. The time has come to take your distance and spotlight on what satisfies you for once in your life.

What Does a Trumpet Mean in a Fantasy? A trumpet is thought of as a "uproarious instrument "that can without much of a stretch be perceived from most of instruments. Assuming you saw a trumpet in your fantasy, it implies that you have a particular character.

Frequently, in my experience, seeing a trumpet implies meddling. On the other hand, a trumpet in dreams is an obvious sign of a manipulative individual who is attempting to control everybody around them - sad to report.

Adversely, playing trumpet in your fantasies anticipates your requirement for consideration. Could it be said that you are frantically attempting to stand out enough to be noticed.? Likewise, would you say you are needing to be the victor of something? Recall you can't necessarily win. Now and then you need to lose to figure out how to see the value in ongoing triumphs. As per the Good book, a trumpet in your fantasies means you wish to accomplish something uniquely great.

What does your voice mean in a fantasy? To dream of a voice (clearly or calm) is a fantasy is encouraging you to make a stride back and turn down the volume. Attempt to hear what individuals need to say. Focus on their feelings.

What Does a Piano Mean in a Fantasy? A piano highlighted in your fantasy demonstrates that you need to move away from the distress and sharpness and make a new, quiet life for you and your loved ones. On the other hand, hearing a piano play music in your fantasy predicts a pleasant occasion that will occur in your cognizant existence. It additionally represents unsurprising sluggish achievement. Remember that achievement requires some investment. Playing piano in your fantasy implies that you will bring choices that will draw in progress in your business. Additionally, it implies that you're at last becoming mindful of your genuine feelings.

What Does Music in Dreams Mean? Hearing music in your fantasy addresses how you feel in cognizant existence. In any case, to decide the genuine importance of your fantasy, you really want to recollect what sort of music was it. Hearing unnatural or conflicting music indicates inconveniences, absence of congruity, and wretchedness. Playing music for others in your fantasy mirrors your work to satisfy others as opposed to doing what you need. It likewise uncovers an objective to accomplish.

Playing an instrument, then again, represents poise, confidence and playing by your own guidelines as opposed to paying attention to what others need to say regarding you. Hearing another person playing an instrument addresses riches and overflow. Be that as it may, playing an instrument and incidentally breaking the strings represents inabilities to think straight. Additionally, somebody will betray you assuming the music was peculiar or surprising - sad to report. It will be startling however educational. Treachery and absence of confidence in individuals isn't a novel, new thing to you.

[awkwarddragon22]

Guess who’s the dumbass who forgot call in for refills on their medication for sleep and PTSD-related nightmares and is now bombarded with said nightmares of PTSD every time they could their eyes and has to wake up shivering in fear of someone out to get them and do the things that caused said PTSD? This guy right hereeee.

I’m such a dumbass. Been super busy with work and life at home hasn’t exactly been great. I can escape with video games, music, and being online talking to friends whenever possible; But they can only help so much. Without this medication, my nightmares come back in full force. Sometimes very intense, others not quite as intense but still very terrifying as I’m reminded of my PTSD over and over again.

Sorry to sound negative and I will probably delete this in a few hours if I doesn’t forget, but I’m legitimately angry at myself for forgetting to do something so easy. ADHD (executive dysfunction) sucks sometimes. This is one of those times. Again, very sorry for the sad post being my second post on Tumblr. Going try and head back to sleep before I get up for work at 9 AM. It’s 4:34 AM as I’m typing this and I’m trying my hardest not to shake from the intense, horrifying nightmare I had.

To avoid anyone getting triggered, I won’t talk about the dream publicly. It's very traumatic and it involved my biggest PTSD and the most frequent one I suffered from late childhood and almost throughout adolescence to varying degrees. I'm okay, don't worry! Sorry for the post, but this dream was absolutely terrifying and it's taking so much to calmly type this without violently shaking and crying so my parents can hear me. They need their sleep and so do I.

#ptsd problems #nightmare #tw csa implied