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bratshaws · 2 years

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goodness gracious 3. brb x oc

a/n: god i love this chapter already. Btw, this might be... a long fic? Maybe? WHO knows i have so much planned for it. s o many ideas....... so little time. btw, Bea has a fc and body claim : its Tara Lynn

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

chapters:

1/2/

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter

She woke up at five in the morning, her eyes snapping open with so much force she felt a headache the moment her vision cleared. She stood up, had breakfast then sat on the couch for fifteen minutes staring at nothing while Jolene licked what was left of her yogurt inside the bowl since her owner didn’t seem to notice.

Beatrice then thought she should do her morning yoga, since it always helped. So she did, but she stuck in downward dog with her eyes glazed over, looking at nothing as she remembered yet again he was coming over.

Then she decided to clean her already clean house. Trying to fight Jolene once she tried to end her mortal enemy: the vacuum. Then she decided to wash her dishes only to remember she already did. Looking at her phone she just groaned when it just turned into six a.m.

So then she decided to check her fridge, what if they got hungry? What sort of diet were they following? Should she get something gluten free? What if one of them was vegan? She didn’t have anything vegan, oh my god why doesn’t she have anything vegan????

So she went to the only grocery store open at this time, trying to get a bit of everything she thought they’d appreciate? Lemons too, she’d make lemonade. She tried to appear casual and not like she ran out of her house wearing her yoga pants with a large hoodie and hair up in a messy bun looking like a crackhead trying to find her next hit.

Done with grocery shopping she got back home and checked everything, even fluffing her pillows even more, putting the striped one on the left of the couch and the mustard one to the right…only to replace positions three more times before giving up. She returned to the couch,sitting down with her back straight, letting Jolene climb on her lap and stay there while her owner tried to calm the hell down.

She sent a message to Shells, at seven in the morning on a Sunday asking her when she’d be over with more than five question marks. Bea tried her best to relax, following the breathing techniques her therapist taught her to control her anxiety, slipping her eyes shut.

Smell the flowers, blow the candle.

She repeated the motion for a few more seconds, until she felt her heartbeat go back to normal. Then her body relaxed and she enjoyed the sounds of the ocean, the wind and cars passing by her house. Good, this was good.

Once she calmed enough, she decided to take a shower, but then came another dilemma: what could she wear? Nothing too fancy but nothing too casual either. Shorts? Out of the question. She might just wear ripped jeans and one of her t-shirts. Right, okay, that was good, yes.

She ran up the staircase, Jolene following her close by, while she opened one of the boxes her clothes were being kept. Tugging her dark ripped jeans out alongside fresh underwear, digging deeper while checking which shirt she could use, furrowing her eyebrows before pulling out a Metallica Master of Puppets shirt, placing the clothes on the cook of her elbow rushing to her bathroom where she stood probably too long trying to make sure she looked presentable.

It was too warm to keep her hair down so, hair bun it was. She wondered about putting on make up - the most she wore at the bar was eyeliner,light foundation and lip gloss - then chose against it when she felt how stuffy it was getting already, choosing to just use some moisturizer and hydrating lip gloss instead.

So, she was decent. Tugging her Metallica shirt for a bit too long, frowning when it seemed tighter than it once was, but shook it off. No time for that now! She just smiled at her reflection the best she should, walking out of her bathroom with Jolene in tow.

Checking on her phone she saw Shells sent her a message, with even more question marks, saying she’d be over around ten o’clock and to please not send her messages so early in the morning. It didn’t take long for her phone to ring, a number she didn’t know calling…but there was only one person who it could be.

“Oh Jesus…” she clenched her eyes, “Please don’t let me mess this up.” her hand shook with nerves before she accepted the call, lifting it to her ear, “Hello?”

“Beatrice?”

She covered her face with a hand, cheeks flaming at the sound of his voice “Hmhm, i-it’s me.”

“Hey, good morning. Did I wake you up? I know it’s early.”

“G-Good morning and no, no I was awake already.” she replied, sinking lower on the couch, feeling like a teenager. “So um…what time is good for you guys?”

“Well I– hey man cut it out!” She heard a chorus of ‘ooohs’ and mixed voices coming from behind him, “Sorry, you are on speaker, let me just–okay, there, finally. So, is ten thirty good for you?”

“Oh, yes, sounds good!” she licked her lips, then furrowed her eyebrows “Listen, if…I mean if you guys think it’ll take too long you guys can just leave it! I don’t want to bother your day off or anything–”

“No, no, you won’t, really. We don’t mind.” there was something in his voice, something soft, but then she heard the not so subtle sound of a slap being followed by an ‘ow! the fuck Rooster???’ “So…see you in a few then.”

“Yeah.” god her voice came out breathy , take a hold of yourself woman, “I-I’ll see you then.”

“Okay… Bye.”

“Bye.” she hung up the call and tossed the phone to the couch, covering her face with her hands only to squeal against her palms. God he sounded so hot, GOD he was so hot! What was a girl to do with that?? The reverie disappeared only for the anxiety to take over…this was really happening.

Beatrice wrung her hands nervously while still partially on the couch, then stood up to pace around the living room with Jolene following her movements with her eyes, her sock monkey toy lodged between her maws as she lay on the floor, “Okay, okay I can do this. It 's fine! It’s totally fine, it’s nothing serious!It’s just something to help with. Nothing more! They’ll come over, take the armoire upstairs and go! Right?” she turned to face her dog, who just chewed on the toy lazily “Right! Yes. It’s fine!”

She had to prepare. God she had to prepare!!

By the time Shells came over, using her own spare key for Bea’s house, she greeted Jolene who was already whining. Closing the door to crouch near the dog, scratching her behind the ears, Shells blinked behind her sunglasses when she smelled something, “Bea?”

“In the kitchen!”

“In the kitchen–why are you in the kitchen?” Shells tossed her bag on the couch much like the day before, running a hand through her shoulder length blonde hair to pull it up on a ponytail, her sneakers squeaking on the wooden floor until she reached the kitchen. “Woah.” Bea stood by the counter, finger foods trays, some salad, lemonade - was that ice cream?? “Is there a birthday party coming up?”

Beatrice wrung her hands, looking from the food to her friend, “Is it too much?”

“I mean, pfft, no but…I wasn’t expecting you to cook them stuff.”

“I just– I just thought if they didn’t have lunch, they could snack on something!” Shells approached the tray with tiny sandwiches, swiping her finger on some of the beige colored paste that spilt on it to lick it up, humming to herself, “It’s hummus.”

“It tastes fucking great.” she said, picking up one of the sandwiches to snatch a bite, lifting the bread to check the insides, “Chicken, hummus, julienne carrots, some tomatoes…”

“There’s also the vegan version but it’s in the fridge, I didn’t know if any of them are vegan– and the bread is gluten free.” Shells stopped her chewing to tilt her head with a small smile to Beatrice. “What?”

“Bea, you are absolutely adorable.” her friend’s cheeks turned red, “If this doesn’t snag Rooster, I’ll gladly take over his place.” she took another bite, humming in delight, “Cause this is fucking good, you are a great cook.”

Beatrice chuckled, crossing her arms, “Oh really, you’d date me for my food?”

“Babes, just let me paint on a mustache and wear Hawaiian shirts, you won’t see a difference.” that made the brunette laugh, turning to place the food inside the fridge for safety, “What time are they coming?”

Beatrice sucked in a breath, pulling her phone out of her pocket to check once she closed the fridge’s door, “Ten thirty…so…in ten minutes.” all the calming exercises she had done earlier went down the drain, she leaned her lower back on the kitchen counter, clenching the black marble countertop with her phone clenched in her other hand, “I’m nervous.”

“Hm,” Shells lifted her index finger, her cheek bulging out as she chewed, “Don’t be, it’ll be fine.”

“What if I mess something up? What if I say something weird?” but her friend made a non-committal noise, too busy shoving the rest of the fresh sandwich inside her mouth, clapping her hands to get rid of the crumbs. Once she swallowed the mass that the sandwich became, she wiped her mouth with a napkin.

“You won’t, now,” she held her friend’s shoulder, “Relax,” she shook them up a little bit for emphasis, “Relaaaax, and breathe. Everything will be fine.”

“Yeah…yeah, okay.”

“Now, step aside, I'm gonna get another sandwich.”

With the two women in the kitchen Jolene was the one responsible to announce sudden visitors. She chewed her little monkey severely, until she heard the sound of a car parking right in front of her house. Her ears perked up, being followed by her head, the monkey still in her mouth as she slowly rose to her paws. She nudged her pink nose through the curtains, pulling herself upwards to stand up on the window sill.

“Oh my god! Look at the dog! Hi!!” a voice said, she didn’t know who said it, but she was already wagging her tail, whining happily at the attention. The sound was enough for Beatrice to walk out of the kitchen, seeing the silhouettes on the outside, quickly marching over to where Jolene was, mentally preparing herself before opening the door.

Shells came right behind her picking Jolene up with a quiet ‘oof!’, holding her away enough for the door to be unlocked. Beatrice stood with her hand clenched on the door handle, squeezing her eyes shut ‘you can do it,Beatrice. Open the door.’ she repeated in her mind. Then she opened the door, face to chest because God sure is humorous with her isn't He, with Rooster. She blinked, gulping quietly, then turned her head upwards to meet his sunglasses, “Hey.”

“Hey.” he replied, removing his shades to slip them inside his tank top. She stepped aside once the shock passed, allowing him and the rest of his team to wander inside. Jesus, her house was way too small for so much muscle power, “Shells, you are here too?”

“I’m just here for mental support.” she chuckles, having a hard time keeping Jolene still, “Okay, okay, fine, you go.”

The pitbull straggled to her feet, her hind legs slipping with excitement as she greeted every single one of the officers by sniffing their shoes, butt and tail wagging excitedly to the new friends that just got in, running to pick up her little monkey toy to show them, “Oh my god, you are so cute!”

Shells and Bea could only watch the usually tough officers suddenly melt into goopy puddles of joy, their voices high as they pet the dog. Jolene however ran to each one, ending up showing her toy to them all, finalizing with Rooster.Standing on her hind legs so he too would show her attention. Which he did, crouching to the floor and cupping the giant puppy’s head, flopping her ears playfully while complimenting her toy as if it was the most important thing in this room.

Bea’s chest clenched, her cheeks flushed “oh no.” she thought, “oh no, he likes dogs too?? I’m doomed.” Shells not so subtle jab to the ribs snapped Bea out of her thoughts, giving the brunette a knowing smirk, then nodding in the direction of the backyard, “Right! Okay, Jolene, down!” The dog ran away from Rooster’s arms to settle herself onto the couch, chewing her monkey toy happily.

Bea cleared her throat, “Well, hi guys.” mixed voices replied back, “Um…follow me. It’s right here.” she turned on her heel to the sliding glass door, opening them up all the way so Rooster and the others could see it.

The sandy haire pilot whistled low, placing his hands on his hips, “Yeah there was no way you girls could do it alone.”

“It’s really big,” Payback added, standing beside the other officer before running his fingers on the surface. Below the armoire was a bunch of newspapers and ripped magazine pages, dripped with dark mahogany varnish, “You painted this?”

“Yeah, two coats of varnish. Sanded it too.” she added, tucking the hair that slipped the bun behind her ear “I got it from an online store selling vintage furniture.”

Rooster walked around the armoire, the top of his hair peeking from behind it. The armoire tipped backwards just enough to be put back on the same spot, “Whew, yeah, this will need three of us at least.” he walked back to the front, looking back at the two other guys who stepped out in her tiny backyard, tilting his head when he noticed Bea practically squeezing herself behind Jake, “Hangman.”

“What?” Rooster nodded his head to Bea, who blinked in surprise, “Oh, sorry sweetheart, didn’t see you there.” Hangman however winks, giving her a brilliant smile “I know you want the best view, I don’t mind showing it to you.”

“Um…I…”

“He’s all bark and no bite, Bea. Don’t worry about it,” Rooster’s voice came quickly, being followed by a grunt, “Okay, me, Fanboy ,Hangman and Payback will carry it up the stairs. I think we all fit there.”

Bea nods, stepping back inside to see Shells already holding Jolene still again. She couldn’t hear what he was telling them once she got inside the living room, but it sounded…dangerously attractive. Phoenix and Bob were on either sides of the door, waiting until four distinct grunts were heard from the outside, the sunlight being blocked by her armoire.

She stepped back, giving them enough space to pass. They looked…way more relaxed than she expected, while they were being careful, it didn’t seem the armoire weighed so much for them. Once they reached the stairs, she couldn’t help herself “Please be careful!”

“aw sweetheart, I’ll make sure you kiss my bruises later, what do you say?” Hangman was on the fifth step alongside Payback, while Rooster and Fanboy held the opposite side. She blushed deep red and he laughed even more, his chuckling being cut short when Rooster pushed the armoire up a bit more “I’m going! I’m going!”

She watched the four of them climb up, trying very hard to not look at how nice Rooster’s ass looked when he went up the stairs. She slowly went up once they disappeared on the top of the loft area. The space for the armoire was quite obvious since she only had her bed in the center of the area, some boxes on the corner and her bathroom right on her bed’s left side.

They talked amongst each other, Rooster questioning the direction where they should put it and she pointed to the space they were currently standing at, so they quickly set the armoire down. Her lips parted in wonder, watching her oak 1965 armoire stand in it’s full glory where she planned it to, a soft gasp leaving her lips.

Rooster leaned his elbow on the armoire, “What I said? Best moving business you’d ever get.” cue to Hangman flexing his arms for emphasis, smiling at her yet again. She dipped her head with a small smile, nearing the armoire to press her hand to it, “Is there anything else you want us to do?”

She blinked,”Huh?Oh! No no! You guys don’t have to! Really,” but Payback looked behind himself to see the shelves neatly stacked to the wall with the baggie of screws and toolbox next to it, “Oh, no, no that’s okay, I’ll do that later–”

“We are here already.” Rooster smiled, giving her a shrug, “We can help.”

She hoped her heart eyes weren’t obvious, but she nodded her head, whispering a gentle ‘okay’ with a smile.

–

What would’ve taken her weeks, they did in a matter of hours. Her sleek brown shelves stood beautifully on the corner of her room and in the living room, Bob made sure they’d stay straight there alongside Payback. Phoenix joined the boys later, when Hangman denied needing help building her computer desk. Meanwhile, Rooster carried her box of books down the stairs - her two fully stacked boxes mind you - once she told him what it was. They opened the boxes and Rooster arched his eyebrows at the book that hit him first “ You like Dune?”

She blinked, looking inside to see the premium collection she got months before the movie launched, “Yeah,” she licked her lips, picking her copy from the box, “Do you?”

“I never really even saw the movie.” he chuckles, “Is it any good?”

“Oh the new movie? It’s great, probably the best adaptation of Dune I’ve seen. I know they tried to be as loyal to the book as they could.” She held the set up to place it in the middle of the shelf, the gold illustrations shining against the black of the books’ thick spines. “Of course there are things you can’t add, but they made references and it was good enough for me.”

Rooster continued rummaging through the box, holding up the books for her to place however she wanted while asking questions about them. Bram Stoker’s Dracula, Frankenstein, Lord of the Rings, comic books…she had a bit of everything. It was when giving her another book that he noticed the tattoos on the arm grabbing the books from him.

He could see a tiny heart close to the inside of her elbow, a little snake near her wrist, the quote ‘In a hole in the ground lived a hobbit…’ on the underside of her lower arm, with the tiny version of what he assumed to be a Hobbit house right next to it. He watched Lord of the Rings, he could identify that. He knew she had more, but the shirt she wore hid most of her upper arms for him to see anything else.

Rooster’s eyes met hers, seeing a confused look on her face as she tried to curl her arm close, “I was just checking your tattoos.”

“Oh.” she looked down at her arm, trying to not focus on how fat it was, turning it to herself but smiling at him for a short while before moving it forward again to grab the next book, “Sorry, I’m not used to people looking at my...arms” she bit her lower lip “You got any?”

“No. Want to though.” he grabbed three more books, handing them over to her so his hand was free “Never know what to get. There’s so many options, I can’t choose. But for the place…” she hums, flitting her gaze quickly to his bicep once he lifts his arm up to roll his sleeve up to his shoulder, rubbing the golden skin with his fingertips, “Maybe here?”

She almost choked on her spit when the muscle flexed ‘Um…um, the arm is nice! I-It has a lot of space.” Jesus Christ his bicep was huge. Bea blinked hard, moving her gaze away to focus on arranging her books “You can do something big there.” really big.

“Like?”

“Hm?”

He shrugs, smiling at her, “Like what? What’s your suggestion?” he nods to her tattooed arms, “You have more experience than I do.”

Beatrice slowed her movements, the Carrie book almost slipping out of her fingers as she translated his words “Oh!” she cleared her throat, “Um…I dunno? It could be something meaningful first? Like…I don’t know, something to do with the Navy. Or something you really like. I don’t know the options are endless. It’s all up to you.”

Rooster’s eyes somber for a second, his gaze leaving hers before returning with a bit of a strained smile, “Right,” oh no, what did she do? “I’ll think about it.”

“O-Okay.” she frowned to herself, chastising herself for whatever was it she said that bothered him. They continued filling the shelf in silence, once they were finished she took her phone out of her pocket “Oh! Um…” she bit her lower lip, looking up at him, “You hungry? I mean– you guys hungry?”

“Why? Is it noon?”

“It’s almost two in the afternoon.”

“Oh shit.” he ran his hand through his hair “Didn’t even notice how time flew by.”

She chewed her lower lip harder, tapping her fingernails against her Michelangelo phone case, “I um… I prepared some things… in case you guys got hungry.” she walks past him to the kitchen, opening the fridge to grab the snacks she prepared earlier. Setting them all on the counter, including the vegan ones, she jumped to see Rooster standing right next to her, with his eyes wide.

“You made all this?”

“...I…yeah?” Was it too much? God it was too much wasn’t it? He’d be freaked out and just think why the hell would she do that to them when they weren’t even—

“Oooohhh, snacks!” it was Phoenix’s voice that broke her turmoil, stepping between the two to grab a sandwich herself, humming happily when she bit into it, “Oh this is good! Is that lemonade?” Beatrice nods, opening her cabinets to grab a glass so Phoenix could fill it herself “I wouldn’t wait too long, Roos.” she jabs him on the ribs playfully, “It’s delicious.”

In a matter of seconds, whoever wasn’t in the kitchen suddenly showed up. She didn’t have a table, yet, so they all helped her take the food to the living room, setting on the round coffee table. It was a tight fit, but it worked. Beatrice couldn’t help but smile shyly at the compliments thrown her way, nor the way everyone seemed to enjoy her quick cooking. Rooster especially was on his third sandwich already, sitting on the edge of the couch while Shells was on the other end.

Shells, who once she saw her friend standing up like a tree, offered her seat to her while she slid to the floor herself. Bea hesitated, but sat down, tucking one of her legs under herself before grabbing a glass of lemonade. She didn’t say much, choosing to listen to the officers chat amongst themselves. Something about Hangman almost losing a finger as he tried to nudge pieces of her table together, much to the blonde officer’s annoyance.

They ate everything. Nothing a crumb was left. and at the right time too, since it was getting closer and closer to the sunset. They helped her set the things on the sink, to which she said she’d wash it and to not to worry, before walking them to the door.

Jolene licked them all goodbye, not only did she get new friends the new friends also fed her scraps of their food! Sitting cutely on the couch as Beatrice led them to the door, “Thank you guys again for helping me.” she smiled, keeping the door open for them.

“Not a worry, if you need anything else you can give us a call,” Payback said, being the first one out, giving her a goodbye, being followed by Fanboy and Bob. Phoenix however stood in the doorway, holding Hangman and Rooster back as she pulled out her phone.

“You got instagram?” Bea nodded, “Cool, I’m going to follow you, is that okay?”

“Yeah! Sure, it’s um, it’s bumblebea, no capital letters.” she heard the notification ping coming from her phone from her back pocket. She waved Phoenix goodbye, dipping her head when Hangman winked at her again,wiggling his own phone in her direction before she heard another ping.

Once Rooster was on the doorway, she parted her lips, “Thank you.” he looked down at her, “For…for helping me.”

He gives her a small grin, pulling his sunglasses out of his tank top, “It wasn’t a problem. You can call if you need any more help and if we are around, okay?” she nods with a shy smile, her cheeks turning red before he slips on his sunglasses, “See you at the bar?”

“...sure. See you. Bye.”

“Bye.”

She holds onto the door with her eyes following him once he reaches the bronco, Bob and Phoenix sitting inside already while Hangman had Payback and Fanboy in his car. She rolls her lower lip into her mouth when Rooster adjusts himself on the seat, one of his hands on the steering wheel already. He looks up back at her, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk, two of his fingers around the wheel loosen up so he could give her a partial wave. One she reciprocated quickly.

After that the cars left her driveway, one after the other. She slid the door shut, trying to bite back a smile until a figure stood to her side, so she tilted her head to see a very smug Shells…who pulled her own sleeve up, exposing her bicep, “Should I get it…here?” she made a weird face by squinting her eyes and biting her lower lip, “Damn, Bea, do you wanna feel my muscles? My big muscles? I’m so stroooongg.”

Beatrice laughed, pushing her friend’s chest when she figured out who she was playing, “Shut up and help me with the dishes.”

“Oh fine,” she sighs playfully, “If I must.”

“You must.” Shells walks past her to the kitchen, Bea following before stopping when she heard another ping from her phone. She pulled it out, pressing the power button to see the notifications. Her cheeks warmed up again.

b.bradshaw started following you.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader

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arthurtaylorlester · 2 years

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dream of the endless headcanons, and yet again, no one has asked

he is bisexual. die mad about it.

he is also grayromantic. being an entity beyond time doesn't help his perception of falling in love

non-binary, he is an anthropomorphic personification do you think he even believes in gender?

they/he. no further explanations

he is clingy. this has been stuck in my mind for days now.

imagine him resting his head on lucienne's shoulder after a long day of dream-making

or holding hands with Death as they go on another reaping walk

or cuddling matthew, all while insulting him greatly

or literally being the little spoon with whoever you ship him with

literally the biggest ride-or-die. you hurt him, or his therapist/librarian, his immortal emotional support human, his favourite older sibling (can you hurt death?), his many birds, cats, hot ex-wife, his stuff, his favourite meadow and you'll be plagued by very very traumatic dreams

he inexplicably invented eyeliner

he eventually let gault go back into jed's dreams

ill add as inspiration strikes me, in calliope we trust

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weiying-lanzhan-fics · 2 months

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transmuter by WithLoweredVoices

What a beautiful story in a grandiose and different setting. I enjoyed everything about it - the pain and anguish as well as the hope and mending.

Wonderful prose and characters ❤️❤️❤️❤️

(Therapeutic for me!)

Quotes:

Wei Ying stares at the boy now standing awkwardly in the middle of the café. It’s like looking through time into some kind of twisted mirror.

The kid holds his hands like he doesn’t know what to do with them – like he’s been deposited within a new set of limbs and has yet to figure out how to use them. He’s sixteen at most, though he looks to be younger. He’s skinny and horribly pale, pale as milk, his lips the same ghastly color as his face. There is eyeliner smeared over his eyes with an unsteady hand, but it isn’t enough to hide the crimson shade of his eyelids.

The boy might be the youngest necromancer Wei Ying’s ever seen.

He’s just a baby – he’s not even full grown yet, not even a single hint of stubble at his face. There’s a chance he might never grow beyond this slender, small frame. You can only dip your fingers into death so many times before it starts to dip its fingers into you – and Wei Ying can smell the death on this boy.

Wei Ying lets out a long, shaky breath. He sets his mocha down and wraps the fingers of his right hand over his left wrist – a grounding trick he learned from his therapist.

‘Hiya,’ says Wei Ying brightly. ‘Welcome to Yiling Gardens. What can I get you?’

————

‘Wei Ying,’ says Lan Zhan. ‘I do not have to stay.’

He lifts a hand towards Wei Ying, then hesitates. He closes his hand into a fist, flexes it once, and then folds his fist behind his back. The hem shifts, revealing the sword hanging low from his belt.

Wei Ying’s traitorous brain feeds him a reel of memories: Lan Zhan, angrily raining a flurry of blows down upon Wei Ying in the training ring; Lan Zhan, wiping sweat from his face as he takes a break between drills, pointedly ignoring Wei Ying’s chatter; Lan Zhan, turning with the gold medal in his hand, not quite smiling, but triumphant all the same as he seeks out Wei Ying’s face in the crowd.

Wei Ying feels something like heartbreak clutter up in his throat. He looks down at the scuff-marks on his old shoes. He thinks about mountain ranges. He thinks about a kitchen table where nobody eats with him.

He thinks about a hand on his wrist, about the drone of Sentinels pushing close and, come back to Gusu with me.

Wei Ying summons his last ounce of bravery and looks up at Lan Zhan. ‘I don’t want you to leave.’

‘Mn,’ nods Lan Zhan. ‘I will not.’ His gaze flashes up towards the menu on the chalkboard. ‘I would like a matcha latte please. With soy milk. It is not a seasonal special,’ he adds, with an apologetic tilt of his head that is Lan Zhan’s equivalent of a shrug.

‘Okay,’ says Wei Ying.

He taps matcha powder into a mug and measures hot water into it with a few presses of a button on the coffee machine. I should say sorry, he thinks. He pulls the carton of soy milk out of the fridge and pours it into a cold pitcher. I should ask him how he’s been, he thinks. He froths the milk and taps out the bubbles. I should thank him for Burial Mounds, he thinks. He pours milk into the mug, forming a delicate fern leaf at the top.

‘Soy matcha latte,’ says Wei Ying as he hands the drink over, instead of sorry or are you well or thank you for not handing me over to Inquisition thirteen years ago.

Lan Zhan cups the mug in one long-fingered hand, while he keeps the other clasped behind his back. ‘Thank you,’ he says, and then, with a strange, wondering tone: ‘You used my favorite brand of soy milk.’

Wei Ying hates his magpie tendencies. It’s embarrassing, the way he collects facets of the people he loves, the people who once loved him, as though they could ever prevent people from leaving him.

Not Rated, 113k

Summary:

Wei Ying gave up necromancy years ago. He should be done with hauntings, but here in his café, here in this quiet city at the edge of the world, there stands a ghost dressed in mourning white with eyes like warm honey at the bottom of the pot.

(The one where it's a café AU - only it's not.)

#wangxian #wei wuxian #wei ying #lan wangji #lan zhan #the untamed fic #wangxian fic rec #the untamed fanfiction #untamed fic #mdzs fic #long fic #multiple povs

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cannebady · 2 years

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My number one favorite thing about Stede Bonnet is that he is an unmitigated fucking lunatic.

My second favorite thing about Stede Bonnet is that he brings out the same kind of unmitigated lunacy is every single fucking person he interacts with.

Mary Bonnet, bless her fucking heart, tries to kill him because she was better off when he was dead, and takes absolutely no objection to publicly faking his death in the most outrageous way possible. She's a fucking icon.

Doug literally thought he was fucking his widowed student until Stede just showed up out of nowhere, got drunk at an art showing, threatened to make him bleed, then brought him to their home, let him make his wife breakfast in bed, and helped them fake his death

Izzy Hands begins as a long suffering, but ultimately controlled, character even given his obvious rage issues. Throughout his association with Stede, Izzy loses twice in combat because of stupid shit and is literally losing his mind enough to sell them out to the English with the help of Spanish Jackie, who canonically runs a bar Izzy hates.

Lucius Spriggs, allergic to work and bringing "ugh" vibes to anything vaguely unpleasant, drinks juice from the nose jar, announces Stede as "the cream of the caribbean" to a bar full of violent weirdos, and ends up basically playing therapist to fucking Blackbeard and defending Stede's honor as a pirate to the fucking English Navy.

Edward Teach was already pretty fucking nuts pre-Bonnet, but Stede drives him to embrace his weirdness while they're together. Within a day of actually meeting, they've swapped clothes and are staying up all night together talking like teens. When Stede leaves, he singlehandedly drives him so far off the fucking deep end that he adds eyeliner almost as bad as mine was in the early 2000s to his fetish gear and goes on a seven-seas fucking rampage.

My theory is that, after meeting Stede, you'll be at least 30% more insane and I love that about him. Chaotic goals.

#stede bonnet #This is a Stede Bonnet appreciation post #Ofmd #Our flag means death #Chaos is contagious #Edward teach #Izzy Hands #lucius spriggs #Mary bonnet #the widow bonnet #Doug

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lifmera · 2 months

Note

hello! I saw you did Hazbin Hotel matchups and thought I’d request one! You’re my first request, and based off of what I’ve seen so far, I’m happy you are :) Take your time and get to me when you can!

I’m 19, my pronouns are She/Her and I’m lesbian. I haven’t been in one yet, but I’d be open to a Polyamorous relationship. I’m a Sagittarius (December 13). I have black, wavy hair that goes to my shoulders. I dress in a grunge style. I LOVE converse high tops, chains, chokers, and black cargo/sweat pants. Depending on how I feel, I wear chunky rings, always silver. I don’t wear much makeup, but if I do, it’s usually just eyeliner and mascara. Sometimes I do some more fancy eyeliner depending on the occasion. I’m 5’3.

I’m the therapist in my friend group. I tend to put their feelings and needs before my own. I don’t really care how I feel as long as I keep the peace. My emotions jump all over the place. Most of the time, I’m quiet and reserved. I can get easily irritated, though, if provoked. I also have severe anxiety. I tend to lean on the pessimistic side, but not always. I’m absolutely horrendous at comforting people in person, but over texts, I’m great at it. I have an extremely dirty mouth, and constantly use it around my friends. I have dark humor, which only some of my friends laugh with me at, so I don’t make jokes too often in case I get silence. I dislike people who judge others at first glance or because of rumors they hear. Honesty and loyalty is a big thing for me. I make jokes about things that bother me. I struggle with talking about my feelings. I can forget to take care of myself at times, especially when I have what I call my “down days”, which is the days I have when everything feels hopeless, and I can’t get out of bed.

My love languages are giving and receiving quality time, acts of service, and words of affirmation.

Music is my absolute best friend. It helps me to express my emotions without them coming out of my own mouth. I love watching and reading horror movies and books, I crochet, and I love sitting out in the rain or going out into the woods. I play both acoustic and electric guitar, and my favorite bands/singers are Mother Mother, Djerv, Ghost, Jack Stauber, and Penelope Scott. I love doing art, mainly rough sketches and traditional art. My favorite games are TLoU and RDR2. I love the shows Arcane League of Legends and Hazbin Hotel (obviously).

Thanks if you get around to me! I hope this is enough :) Have a nice day/night!!

Hi Hun!!

You aswell 🩷

I think Velvette works too.

I’ve decided to pair you up with …. LUTE!

I think when she first saw you she definitely questioned you. Like- “why are u in heaven when you dress like you belong in hell..”

Can she even talk though? Girl…..

Lute tends to keep her emotions under control. But its stressful. Adam can be so annoying…

Lute honestly is also pretty pessimistic- but if she sees her gf being pessimistic? She’d force you into anything you enjoy. She can’t stand seeing you upset. It hurts her heart!

I think she wouldn’t mind though. She never talks much about herself.

She definitely would not care about how much you curse. Adam has probably said worse.

She’d probably like dark jokes. She probably hasn’t heard one before- and snickered when she did.

Lute is HUGE ON HONESTY AND LOYALTY!!!! She will love you forever. 🩷

Honestly Lute would join you on down days. She needs a break. Away from her duties and just everything. She’d want to take care of you though! She cant have you upset!

I think Lute is also big on Quality time. She feels like she doesn’t get enough because she’s constantly working, so she tries to make up for it by buying you gifts!

She definitely loves music too. You would 100% drag her down with you into your music rabbit hole. She’d probably end up humming Ghost all day.

She LOVES when you play the electric guitar. In her head she’d think you are better than Adam- but won’t say it out loud.

She definitely loves that you crochet!! She’d wear whatever you made her. Or maybe any plushies??

I don’t think it rains in heaven, or hell for that matter- but if she went down to earth i think she’d love the patter of rain hitting against the top of the car!!! It’d relax her :)

~~~

I HOPE THIS WAS OKAY?!!

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rockbottomwithashovel · 9 months

Text

Tw suicide

Hey guys. I'm just posting this to say why... And to say I'm sorry. I don't know what to say, I suck at goodbyes. I just don't think I can do this anymore. It's like the universe is giving me more reasons to die each day.

I never wanted it to be this way. I started to think I could actually recover, live a long and happy life. But that moment was so short. I just can't do it.

I haven't been able to be happy for more than a minute since I was 10. I was just a child, and I had already gone through so much. But it was only just starting.

When I was 7 or 8 I was sexually assaulted. It was around this time that I started to more or less live on pot noodles as I wasn't allowed to make anything, but my mum mentally couldn't either.

When I was 10-13 I was emotionally and mentally abused. I was bullied for years, they made me do things and if I didn't I'd be the one with the bruise. The guilt eats me every day. There are rooms and memories from that time and school that don't make sense and I can't remember. I don't know why. The bullying even came from teachers. This was a private Christian school.

From when I was 10 I had to spend most excursions at home as we nearly lost the house, and I had to miss days of school to stay home and look after my mum, who was suffering from depression and needed support. This was when the household chores all fell on to me and my twin.

When I was 13 my mum tested me against my consent for aspergers syndrome (now called ASD). It came back positive. She told me when I didn't want to know. This caused a chaotic and unstable household. I was suffering ptsd that I didn't understand. My parents made me feel crazy. I was running away and coming back, missing school, not sleeping. Asking for affection but only getting attention if I was a problem. There was so much screaming and fighting and I was all alone, no friends, no family helping me through, even my twin was against me.

When I was 15 I told my best friend of 10 years that I have ASD. She never spoke to me since.

When I was 16 I was groomed by a man online, leading to me seeking out more aggressive and manipulative people online to make me feel good about myself. The shame lasted longer than anything else. Then the pandemic hit. My friend tried to kill herself. She left most people notes... Not me. She doesn't really speak to me now. I don't know what I did wrong.

By 18, I had tried to kill myself more times than I could count, never getting far (I was only 13 when I first attempted).But things started to look up. I had survived school.

Now, at 19, I've been to aa, the mental ward twice in one year for suicide attempts, I have depression, anxiety, ptsd, insomnia, atypical anorexia, suicidal thoughts, I self harm so much I could never wear short sleeves again. And I'm having psychotic episodes. I don't know what it is, I'm scared to be diagnosed, but my therapist has suggested a few things. As someone (if you've looked closely at my blog, you'll know who) once said, it's a living, breathing nightmare.

Maybe I am a coward. Maybe it's just too much and I'm too weak. But it hurts so much or I can't feel at all. I can't keep doing this.

People say they love me, that I'm important or they'd miss me. But I just don't know if I can believe that. People call me pretty but the mirror makes me want to hurt myself. I'm ugly. Unlovable. I'm just a burden and a waste of space. I'm so sorry if I am important to you. I don't want to traumatize anyone or hurt anyone but this just hurts so fucking much I don't know how much longer I can be strong. Maybe I'm just not meant for this.

I need you all to know I love you. You mean so much to me. I'm so fucking sorry if I hurt you. I'm so sorry. If you're struggling, please get help. You deserve happiness, hope, love. I believe in you. It will get better. If you see someone struggling, please look after them, even just a stranger on the train with leaking eyeliner. Just ask if they're OK. You could save their life.

I've got pierce the veil on the 27th. I'll do it after then. I'm not sure if I can hold on that long though. I'm so sorry for any pain I'm causing. I hope you're all OK <333

Love,

Rock

#rock rambles #delete later #maybe i'm better off dead #Tw sui #Suicide note #Su1c1d3 n0t3

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lustfangs · 2 months

Note

Treble clef anon here (𝄞)!

I hope this new piece lives up to my previous standards. Of course, as per your suggestion, we'll be taking a deep dive into the wonderful world of dumbification.

Afterall, what need have you of thoughts - when you're so wet and horny and needy and dumb that all you can think about is how bad you want to be ruined right now?

xxxxxxxxx

It began at work.

It's been a pretty busy month - with calls coming in one way, emails the other, and your boss constantly nagging you about some shit you sent to the wrong person last week, it's astonishing you're even able to keep up. Well... you haven't really been able to keep up that well. Every night you get home so tired you can barely blink without falling asleep, yet the moment you roll laboriously into bed, you're kept awake by the persistent low-level stress of knowing you've got to go to work again tomorrow.

You've thought of getting a therapist, but who has the time for that? Rubbing at your clit at night, awash with the hot flood of an orgasm or three, is all the reprieve you really get from this damn job. And even then, it's so short you barely notice.

So it's another morose, upsettingly boring day when you sit down at your desk, getting a final stretch in before switching on the shitty little company computer and opening the first few emails. They're the normal stuff: finances, shipping, some idiot lost their keys again, etc.

Except, there's one new message. Unknown sender, but you can't be bothered to run up the name. It's probably some newbie who forgot to switch to their work email. Inside, you see some garbled-looking text, obviously photocopied from somewhere, and a file attachment.

Fuck it, might as well, you think, double-clicking your way through. It's some kind of webcam app - your beleaguered old in-built cam blips to life, a dim light in its corner to show it's somehow still shambling on. On your screen, you just see your face. Haggard, strained, and shadowed with eye bags darker than your eyeliner, you look about as miserable as you feel. Across this dour screen flashes a message. Quick, subtle, but you catch it.

"Blink twice"

Hell, why not. You blink twice.

"Good girl."

Your cheeks flush, that light red startlingly noticeable in the slightly grainy camera footage. Oh, so that's what this is. One of those call-and-response porn bots? You'd heard of them before - hell, you'd been sent them before, whenever some dumbass let their email get hacked - but this one is surprisingly well put-together. Usually, big compilations of these pop up either on youtube or on porn sites, depending on what they ask people to do. Long compilations of tired workers being a little goofy, or a little slutty, into a camera that scrambles their identity when the recording's over.

It's funny, you never thought you'd get caught up in one of these. Maybe you'll be able to get off to it later, when it's inevitably uploaded to the hornier channels of the internet. No new emails. So for now, you keep watching.

"Blink again"

You blink, a damp little spot between your legs.

"Good girl." "You love doing what you're told."

Your breath hitches, the look on your own face enough to send a thrill of lust through your body.

"Nod for me."

Your head bobs once

"You love doing what you're told." "Nod again."

Thank god you're in a cubicle with a door, even if it's just a flimsy bit of cardboard. You nod, mouth slightly agape, and keep staring.

"Good girl." "Show me your tits."

You glance around, making sure nobody's around. Getting up a little, you can see there's even fewer people in than usual. Just you, your boss, and a cleaner. Guess everyone else took the weekend off. Or they're just working from home; you live too close to work not to bother coming in and keeping home separate.

Dropping back down into your seat, you flash your tits - short, sweet, and just long enough that you get an eyeful of yourself, before tucking them back under your shirt.

"Good girl."

The look on your own face is something else. Mouth a little open, tongue just by your lips, you barely manage to restrain yourself from groping at your tits, just dying to see how hot you'd look doing it.

"Again."

They're out in the air before you even realise, and with the click of the far door, you know the janitor's gone for the day. Just you, and your boss in her closed office.

"Touch them."

Your repressed need for some release takes over; groping needily at yourself, you do everything to look as slutty as you can in your reflection - kneading, pinching, pressing them together until your nips are nice and puffy, and you're aching to have them sucked.

"Good girl." "You hate thinking, don't you."

You keep staring, transfixed.

"Nod if you don't want to think"

You've nodded already, and it takes a second for you to realise you actually need to stop. Breath shaky, you drop your hands from your chest, just moving your arms to squish your breasts together and jiggle them a little, chair creaking beneath you.

"Good girl." "Don't think, just nod."

Your head bobs on its own, following the words.

"Don't think." "Take off your shirt."

The cotton lands in a heap on the floor, barely able to contain the instinctual nodding, as you get to see your smooth skin for the first time today. A drop of drool lands on your leg. Where'd that come from?

"Don't think." "Good girls don't think."

Another wet drop on your legs.

"You're a good girl, aren't you?"

You nod vigorously, staring at the image of your own tits.

"Say it."

You stop, suddenly unsure. It feels so good, but... say it? Your mouth forms the words, your head fills with their tune. Will your boss hear you? Surely not, she's behind a closed door afterall?

"Say it."

You raise your head a little over your cubicle wall, just enough to see. She's busy behind her desk with something, barely visible through the slats of her covered office windows. The door is firmly shut.

"I'm a good girl."

"Good girls don't think."

"G- good girls don't think~"

"Good girl." "What are you?"

"I'm a good girl."

"That's right. You're a good girl. And good girls don't think." "Good girls are dumb."

You shift your legs, and feel your own fingers already there, rubbing away at your clit like there's no tomorrow. It's so, so, wet down there, and you can't help yourself now, can you?

"Say it."

"Good girls... are dumb."

"Good girl." "What's your name?"

"I-"

You can't... remember? Your own name? Where was it again - oh, yeah. It's on the floor, on your discarded shirt. You fingers slip inside for a second, and the blind, gasping lust that seizes you refuses to let go, wetly plapping your own hand against your plumply pretty labia, every thought vanishing like smoke.

"What are you?"

"I'm a good girl~"

You whine, eyes rolling over how good you're making yourself feel.

"Your name is slut."

"My name is Slut?"

"Remember, good girls don't think."

"Mnnh~"

You bite your lip, unable to block the low moan sliding out of your throat, your new name locking into place. You should have that put on your... cube ickle? That's a long word.

"Long words are funny." "Good girls are dumb. Long words aren't dumb." "You don't need long words. You're dumb." "What's your name?"

"Slut."

"And what are you, slut?"

"A good girl~"

"And what are good girls?"

"Uhhh..."

You strain your mind to think, absently licking the sweet slick off your own fingers. Humping your hand, creaking the chair, you desperately try to grasp what you were thinking about - was it your wet, aching pussy? No, that's not it. What about this hot feeling between your legs? And how about those cute tits on the screen in front of you? Yeah, that makes sense!

"Good girls are dumb." "My, you really are a good girl."

"Mmhm..."

"So what are you, slut?"

"Uhm... I'm..."

"You're a dumb slut. That's what."

Your whole body trembles as the pleasure suddenly washes over you, hips rolling your sloppy pussy onto your fingers, helplessly riding them as you stare at the pretty slut on the screen.

"Stand up"

You shoot to your feet, tits bouncing as you try to keep fingering yourself, even standing up. Oh look, you're boss' door is open. Wow, has she always been this hot? You shoot a look back down at the screen.

"Cum in my office." "Edge until you reach me. Kneel every time you get close."

You follow the pretty instructions, dumb brain shorting out every time you get so, so close, and dropping to your knees, dripping wet juice all over the floor each time. By the fifth time, you're right by her door, and fat tears are rolling down your face as you grope desperately at your tits instead of your puffy pussy. Finally, you step inside. The office is decorated all in black, as is your boss, her chest and thick cock both straining against her clothes. Standing there, you fingerfuck yourself for her pleasure, squealing with need as the floor soaks in your juices, the smell of sex wafting through the room.

She just watches, clicking a pen.

Why is it so hard now? you think, mashing your clit so hard you're crying all over again. Let me cum for her! I want to cum for her! I'm a good girl! Good girls are dumb! I'm dumb slut! Dumb slut want cum! Just those words flash through your mind, and soon enough you're saying them out loud.

"I'm a good girl! Good girls are dumb!"

"Yes, my dear. Good girls are dumb. And you're such a perfect, pretty, dumb little girl for me, aren't you~?"

The orgasm comes with a scream, dropping you to your knees, then onto your face, as wet cum squirts against the glass of her office, thumping dully in the heart-pounding quiet. Your breaths are nothing but moans and whines, your poor mind gone completely. Just a fuzzy haze left, mumbling something into the wet carpet as trembles wrack your body, showing off your pretty back, and your pretty cheeks, to your new master. Wasn't she your boss already~?

~~~~~~

tadaa! I can do a part two if you like Something tells me your boss won't be satisfied with just watching you lose your mind in front of her.

I get the feeling she wants to keep you.

But who am I, the author, to decide such things?

P.S. I hope you feel a little better now, and hopefully you'll have an easier time of it than before.

Treble clef anon you are my savior!!!! I’ve missed you <33 please send that second part over I’ve been so busy lately :((

#nsft #bd/sm blog #nsft text #rough cnc #nsft concept #cnc k!nk #* zel answers.

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plaguefields-rp · 1 month

Text

Behold Them...

this is PATCHES. she looks exactly like when bugs bunny dresses up like marilyn monroe with the dramatic eyeliner and beauty mark. she stands on her hind feet and walks like vince mcmahon. i won't lie; it's intimidating.

this is CARMEN. you know, like the woman who ditched the protagonist of The Band's "The Wait" and left him to hang out with the devil. my partner says her face looks like a butt and i'm not going to say he's wrong, but it's a really really cute butt. crazy thing is that she's full-grown at 3lbs.

HAZEL is your standard black and white dutch rabbit. her markings make her appear to be wearing pants and a black luchador mask. you might be wondering what's up with all the orange stuff on her face. well, i left a bowl of spaghettios unattended for just a little too long.

DAVID JOHANSEN JR ("Davie") is just an all-around weird organism, much like the guy I named her after. she has glowing red eyes and a tail that doesn't look like a standard cotton-puff bunny tail so much as an overlong prehensile butt-tentacle.

OLIVE doesn't care what you're eating, but she wants it. she has a white dot on her nose and i think she has a crush on my therapist because she likes to do wacky shit in the background during my zoom appointments. earlier today she farted and it made my bedroom smell like scallions for like four whole minutes.

this is BLUTESSA and she is 24lbs of womanly menace. she's named after the canonical sister of Bluto from Popeye. she really likes a game called "Froot Loop," which is pretty much fetch but with froot loops and she doesn't bring them back. i've already made a callout post about how she doesn't wipe her ass very well. none of the others have this issue, so this is definitely a Her-problem.

LUCKY (temporary name) has a sad-as-fuck origin story. the guy at the pet store told me she was "unsellable" because she has a deformed leg. he made a point of showing me how affectionate and cuddly she was before casually telling me nobody would want her and he was gonna feed her to a snake. you know what likes deformed snuggly rabbits even more than a hungry python? ME. i do. she's actually doing great and has a real thing for honey mustard.

this has been "My Rabbits." thanks for tuning in.

BONUS IMAGES:

blutessa compared to her average-sized housemates

is a musclebound headlock truly so different from a loving embrace?

#toiletwatership down

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heyitssashag · 6 months

Text

If there was one hairstyle I could banish from the earth forever, it would be the man bun. The only dude who can get away with it is Aquaman. This is because Jason Momoa is a hunk. I also haven’t used the word “hunk” since 1992. Moral of the story: Unless you look like Jason Momoa, don’t wear a man bun. It is not good. That being said, most men who wear man buns are not in my generation so I guess it doesn’t really matter. I just needed to let it be known that man buns burn my eyes.

Very few men can get away with wearing just a moustache like my father. He looks super-weird without one. However, on the whole, unless your goal is to look like someone who stars in Good Will Humping or The Bone Ranger, it should probably be avoided.

If you’re going to let your beard grow long, consider keeping it coiffured or you run the risk of looking like a grizzled prospector. Dagnabbit!

I’m well aware there’s like 64748382 female fashion statements and hair styles that aren’t good either. I’ve had my share of fashion faux pas. If you saw my year book photos through the late eighties and early 90’s, you’d think I held stock in hairspray and black eyeliner. Oh, and crushed velvet. …and maybe Keds and Doc Martens.

1993-1994

If anyone asks me what I miss the most of the 90’s it’s the music. I also loved to go to concerts. Metallica, Nine Inch Nails, Marilyn Manson (too bad he’s a gross creep now), Sepultura, Pantera, Hole, Slayer, Fear Factory, Suicidal Tendencies, Korn… The list goes on. I saw a lot of concerts then. I don’t listen to much of that kind of music, anymore. Gives me a headache. lol. Every so often I’ll throw on some grunge, though. The 70’s and 90’s were the best decades for music. I’ve been challenged on my opinion many times but my opinion still stands.

I’ll be first to admit that I still have recent fashion police problems. My Mother made me get rid of a few pairs of sweatpants which made me quite sad. Plus, I’m currently sporting blue and purple hair right now…

Sigh…

So sometimes I like to talk about random, trivial crap that doesn’t involve cancer.

Anyways, today I was offered another participant through the health coaching program. I’m not sure if I’m going to take them on. Their health history is challenging so I need more info. Man, I’m getting to the point where I should really consider reducing the volunteer work and start charging for my services. lol. Just in the past month, I’ve also had four people ask me to coach them to run a half or full marathon (one even wants to do an ultra). I’m really seeing how “doing a marathon” is turning up on everyone’s bucket list. lol. There’s a few coming up in the spring so I understand why they want to get started. The thing is, I charged really good coin when I used to coach. Sure, I’m not working now so I have time to help out but… it does take time. My time and knowledge is still valuable. I think. Anyway, I’ll see how it goes. I’m excited to just be able to talk about running so I’m happy to help. I should shut up now. I’m glad I have Tumblr as a therapist to talk this stuff out. Ha-ha.

Today I had to run some errands and help the kid with an English homework assignment including an essay. Not fun. I’m so glad I don’t homeschool anymore.

Now, I’m going to make some tea and watch Ted Lasso. I did pick up the December’s Book Club book but I think I’ll start that over the weekend.

#metastatic breast cancer #random things #just a day in the life #blogging on my blog

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candiedspit · 7 months

Text

I started the year with a cartoon frown, pianos falling from great heights, the works. I was unemployed, only felt happy when I was causing a scene in a supermarket, crazed in my PJ’s. I turned twenty four with my best friend; in the back of the cab, in a diner and a movie theatre and great slick road. I worked at an NFT based art gallery and a school, interviewed artists in their small and cataclysmic studios, the stench of weed everywhere. My boss called me love and told me I should write a book. I moved back home with my dad and cousin. I spent ten days in the hospital after breathlessly telling my therapist I planned to kill myself that night. 2 men told me they were gonna marry me. “We’re worried about you” I was offered ECT and read four books in 3 days and when I got out, my dad took me to get breakfast. I was hypomanic for a few days, blitzed and in love and little explosions. I went to Ohio and got drunk off moonshine in the daytime and listened to Amy as I helped my friend with his car and went to a drive through gas station and got so high I was hallucinating in all five senses. A month of illness. I adopted Sunday from a shelter while on a trip with my social worker; I spent two weeks on amphetamine, went on a date with a guy from the gym and didn’t sleep and quit my job and got another job at a small preschool run out of a woman’s living room. Strange people. Strangers smoking cigarettes. A wonderful reading in Brooklyn. The construction workers calling me sweetheart. I went to Texas and got burned and berated; “I want you to be okay” I swam in the river and watched the water rise around me. Alcoholics. I went off my meds and was going to kill myself in the airport but the morning of my flight, I felt alright. A terrible reading in Brooklyn. DBT modules. Cyanotypes. Rain. Lots of hair dye. I got work at a school for children with autism and that’s where I am now, in between gym sessions and therapy sessions. I wear black eyeliner and dresses and put out breakfast and pretend to eat plastic cake. I walk into rooms. I try to want to live, all the time. I’m probably going to end the year drunk as a seahorse. There will be hope falling against the land. Loud, bombastic declarations of hope. Warheads of hope. I hope I feel it.

#personal

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whenyourshipfinallysetssail · 2 years

Text

Just some random

STRANGER THOUGHTS 2

***SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4***

*****My smoldering hot-takes on the season’s hottest DILF. 🥵******

Jeezus, is it a million and one degrees in here, or am I trapped in a Russian Prison with Enzo?

See, that’s funny because you’d think a Russian prison would be cold, but then there’s a hot DILF in there.

Question number one: ok yeah enemies to lovers but has anyone ever tried “helpful prison guard to sexy cell mate?” Is that a trope? Can we make it one?

Now you’re probably asking yourself, does this crazy bitch ship Hopper and Enzo?

And the answer is yes, of course I do, but not in an “I’m gonna be mad if this show doesn’t make this cannon” sort of way. I know nobody is queer-baiting me here. If anyone is queer-baiting me it’s me. I’m very good at it, thank you very much. I can imagine incredibly straight men are in love when they’re on screen together in my eyeline for too long. That said, Ronance, Steddie, Byler, and Jargyle: make it canon or we riot. [How fucking dumb was it when they just threw a random chick at Argyle to show the audience he’s got a big case of the not-gays? Who cares. This show loves smashing straights against each other. Show me some bi 80’s teens or shut the fuck up. Also, watch out, everybody, cause the Mileven Mafia is about to come gunning for me: I don’t give one single fuck about Mike and El’s relationship and I never have. El’s busy, guys. She’s got a whole “facing down an inter-dimensional existential threat/I’ve got two dads but one is abusive and one’s in a gulag” thing going on. Fuckin’ don’t make her date a boy right now.]

Now, back to that gulag. Ah, Enzo. Dimitri “Enzo” Antonov. My imaginary boyfriend that someone else imagined for me, who is never going to date my other imaginary boyfriend from Season 1 [on TV, at least. In head canon it’s already happening and you can’t stop it] for two reasons: A) because obviously Jopper is a thing and the writers aren’t going to suddenly drop that just because we got season 2 of the gay pirates. (But wouldn’t that be WILD? What if they had shot two versions of the ending and they held back Vol. 2 so they could use the gay ending if Our Flag Means Death got renewed? Would the internet survive the aftermath?) And B) my two boyfriends can never date because canonically Season 1 Hopper died in Season 3 when the Duffer Brothers got amnesia and started telling David Harbor to just scream at everyone in every scene. RIP, baby. I still love you.

[Side-Note: I’ve got so many good hashtags for this ship you guys: #jimitri #hopptonov #enzopper #hoppzo. They write themselves. These men fit like puzzle pieces. Sexy, sexy little puzzle pieces. Mmmm. Cold, boys? Why don’t you two papa bears snuggle up for warmth? Yeah . . . Yeah . . . That’s real cozy . . . . . . . ANYWAY]

And of course, C) #jimzo #twopigsinablanket [lol, they’re both cops] is never gonna happen because they’re absolutely setting up my glorious Russian cinnamon roll for a tragic heroic death.

Look, snow-muffin, I love you. You’re the steely-eyed, growly-voiced, salt and peachy mustached, true friend to the death, morally grey Russian with a not-so-secret heart of gold of my fuckin’ dreams. I’d watch a whole spin off that’s just you teaching your son to ice fish in silence. I want you and Mikhail to defect to America and move in with Jim and El and wind up in a super bi thrupple with Chief Hopper and my self insert OC. (Her name is Azelia Moondragon, she has three different color eyes, she can change genitalia at will, she has an IQ of 3.6 billion, and and she’s more powerful than the Mind Flayer, Vecna,El, and eight demogorgons put together . . . Nah, just fuckin’ with you. Her name’s Kate Kauffman and she’s a 38 year old therapist from New Jersey with a secret drinking problem.)

Listen, my ice duke, my proud Siberian wolf, my shot of Svayak with a spoonful of caviar, we both know you could have an AMAZING arc in Season 5. We both know you could wind up snatched by the US government and forced to remain at the lab in Hawkins while the feds scramble to cover up the existence of the Demogorgon you saw, that you could have a moving side mission to bring your son to the US illegally while you help your bestest pal Hop and his annoying girlfriend [no, she’s fine, it’s fine, I like her, they’re good together, not all the hot men want to kiss each other, and that’s ok] parent their sulky teens and save the damn world.

We both know you could fall madly, passionately in love with the mysterious new psychologist that the lab hires to provide you and the other Demogorgon survivors “trauma and readjustment therapy,” but who has secretly been tasked with wiping your memory so you can never go back to Russia and tell the world what you know. We’re both well aware that after she succumbs to your arctic-foxlike charm, Dr. Kate Kauffman could never bare to wipe your memories, that she would instead confess that she is not a psychiatrist, she is in fact a powerful psychic, a subject of the experiment that preceded Hawkins Lab, that in a fit of tears as she laid bare her secrets she would lift up her sleeve to reveal the mark on her wrist, faded, but perfectly legible: “000,” and then as you took her in your arms and told me no harm has been done, all is forgiven, you’re here to protect me now, the two of us would begin to float into the . . .

*Ahem* At any rate . . .

My beautiful near-winter ermine, we both know you have so much potential as a character. But it’s time for both of us to face the harsh, cold facts, so much colder and more harsh than the winters of your beloved homeland.

Dimitri, my darling, here are the reasons we both know you’re definitely not making it out of Season 4 alive:

1) You’ve got a son to get back to. ROOKIE mistake, my love. I’m frankly astonished at you. And you revealed it RIGHT before the big monster battle? I mean, why don’t you just do a big monologue about how you two are going to open up an awesome rabbit farm when you get home? Do you WANT to die? Baby, I volunteer for a suicide hotline. Next time you feel compelled to confess touching details about yourself the night before you face a deadly threat right at the end of a season arc, call me. We can talk it through. You have so many reasons to live!

And of course, that is why you are going to die.

2) Where is Mikhail’s mom?

Now, this one’s interesting. Arguments COULD be made this could go either way.

The facts are these:

You’ve made zero mention of your wife in all this “reflecting upon our lives as we stare into the gaping maw of death” talk. MAYBE your wife divorced you, and that’s why you don’t like to talk about her. Seems unlikely, given Hop got you to punch him by implying she was disloyal. (Although we can’t rule out the possibility that that remark hit just a little too close to home. Perhaps your drive to be seen as a hero of the Motherland in the eyes of your son stems from a need to demonstrate you are the REAL daddy, a bigger, braver, cooler man than the stepfather his mother left you for? Interesting. We can discuss this again in your next session, Dimitri. That is, if we even do any talking next time . . . I mean, what? Huh? Oh! Right, the thingy. Yeah, sorry, I uh, got distracted by the . . . Nevermind.)

ANYWAY, the much more likely answer is, Mikhail’s mommy is deadzo. You are not only a DILF, you are a hot widower, and the show runners are saving this juicy detail for the inevitable “calm before the coming storm,” beat, the moment just before your heroic sacrifice during the final battle or the crazy escape sequence, when Hop says something cheesy like “You’ve got to rest up. Tomorrow you’re gonna need all your strength to hug that wife and kid of yours.”

And you’ll stare just left of camera with your gorgeous, steely gaze, and you’ll say in your low, haunted voice “I will need strength for only one hug. I am all the family my son has left.”

BOOM. You’re dead. The emotional stakes just got higher and all the Duffer Brothers have to do now is fry ‘em up in the bacon grease of tragic irony and serve them to the audience with a side of mashed dream-potatoes as we weep for you. Now your son is an orphan! And Season 5 has a ready-made cute Russian to bring in and fatten with all our collective emotional investment before the final slaughter. [Fun fact: the third ritual sacrifice of a beloved fictional Russian in a series opens an actual real portal to a hell-dimension in our world!!! The last one opened on January 15, 1968, when the finale of The Man From U.N.C.L.E was broadcast! It was only closed by “chance” when the counter spell was “unwittingly” triggered by casting Armie Hammer as Illya Kuryakin in the GUY RITCHIE directed remake. GUY RITCHIE. Did you know he made a King Arthur Movie?! The Lock, Stock, and Every Movie Jason Statham Has Ever Been in guy. Made a remake of a 60’s tv show and a King Arthur movie with WAY TOO MANY GOD DAMN WIZARDS. Anyway, like I said, luckily the portal was closed, but the things which came from its depths still roam our Earth, seeking raw flesh and fun 60’s fashion accessories. Remember, Ritchie has more dark power and arcane knowledge than he’s letting on, and always wear an ascot or a cute colorful beret when you go out or you will perish horribly!]

Then again, there is a hopeful reading of the no-wife-scenario. MAYBE, dead wife means no strings to hold down the season 5 Enzo romantic D plot. MAYBE they’re leaving you open for more hasty and gratuitous hetero coupling! Doctor Kauffman?! Paging Doctor Kauffman to the set of Stranger Things Season 5! They’re prepping for your close up! And after that, you’re making ST history, they’re setting up to shoot the show’s first sex scene with two adults!!!

[remember when we watched two teens awkwardly fuck while Barb was gruesomely murdered in Season 1? That scene has gotten even LESS comfortable somehow as the actors have aged. You look back and see how young they look compared to now and you’re like “yikes! I know the actors were actually twenty, but please! No more babies fucking, thanks!” Glad they stopped doing that shit. If I had to watch El and Mike fuck I’d hurl, for more reasons than one. LEAVE HER ALONE AND LET HER FIGURE OUT HER SHIT GOD DAMN IT I DON’T NEED TO SEE HER PUNCH MIKE’S V CARD I DON’T CARE THIS ISN’T EUPHORIA ITS A GOD DAMN SCI FI 80’s THROWBACK FUN TIME ABOUT PSYCHIC BABIES!]

So, yeah, no wife could mean free meat for the season five Hetero-pairing meat grinder! There’s hope!

. . . Hope? . . . Who am I kidding? I’m sorry, Dimitri, but this is no time, no world for hope! This is Stranger Things! Do you really think we’re gonna make it out of another season with two new cast members still alive like we did in Season 2? No. No, in the end they killed Billy for his hubris in daring to outlast Bob Newby. All good looking things must end, my dear. Let us kill hope now, before she hurts us again.

3) This Show Fucking Loves Killing Precious Russian Moonbeams [alternatively titled “Are The Duffer Brothers Attempting to Summon The Ravening One From Beyond the 9,000th Eye?!?! Stay Tuned For Season 4 to Find Out!”]

I don’t know if, like, everyone in Russia knows everyone in Russia, but, like, probably not? It looks like a pretty big country on the map. But, Enzy, baby, can I call you Enzy? No? Ok, well, Antonov, sweetheart, do you remember Alexi? He was this really cute, funny, enjoyable Russian sidekick they had last season. We had so much fun with him! At first, we thought he was this bad Russian scientist who was going to help screw over our beloved friends, but in the end, he actually teamed up with them! We all really came to love Alexi! He was kind of a fan favorite! People wrote long, rambling things with a lot of weird jokes in them about him on Tumblr. And then . . .

Sound familiar?

Call me a pessimist, but I just don’t think the Duffer Bros can pass up an opportunity to murder a beloved fictional Russian. Besides, it has been long since the gate was opened. The Ravening One cries out for more tender flesh from our own corporeal plane. Its inessence rumbles, its dark mindlessness bends upon our dimension with all the fell, unfeeling intent and obsession of otherworldly instincts. The Duffer Brothers are thinking of doing a 60’s throwback for their next show, and Guy Ritchie is slated to direct the first seance, I mean episode! . . . Plus they’re like so attentive to details, they’d never kill three Russians on accident! Or forget their birthdays.

Dimitri “Enzo” Nikolai Andronic Niklosky Antonov, we could play this little game of denial, dream this little dream of happiness, torture ourselves a little while longer with what can never be. But neither you nor I are fools. Let us say goodbye now. Let us bid farewell to visions of you doing a really cool group side mission for one or two episodes with Steeve and Eddie and Robin and Nancy and Dustin and Max and El. Let us not cling any longer to fantasies of an episode beat where the adults go out on the town and you and Hopper get in a big bar fight with some assholes who are teasing Joyce and Murray, and you do lots of cool punching to some banging 1987 hit like, I don’t know, RICK ASTLEY’S “NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP?!?!?!” [Did I do it? Does it count as Rick Rolling if it’s in text?]

Let us let go once and for all of our wistful longing for all the dopamine-explosion moments as you interact and bond and integrate with the entire Stranger Things ensemble, the giddy spectacle of novel combination after novel recombination of beloved characters, that heady right of passage of exploring increasingly bizarre pairings and group dynamics all new ST characters who survive their first season are treated to, until the dread Season 5 finale ultimately tears them all assunder as the eldritch gods of the Upsidedown inevitably triumph and wipe all away with one mighty, slimy tendril of inter-dimensional horror.

All I can say, Enzipie, Dimipants, Antobutt, is that it’s been one hell of a ride. You may be just a corrupt guard of some remote, snowy prison in the middle of nowhere, betrayed by his crooked accomplice, imprisoned alongside his former captive, escaped with the aide of unlikely allies, and doomed by the conventions of narrative drama to die, but you melted my heart.

At least we get to keep Eddie! . . . Right? Duffers? DUFFERS?!

TOUCH HIM AND YOU DIE, GOD DAMN IT!!!

*begins sobbing and singing unintelligible Russian dirges while pounding the table rhythmically with fist*

#enzopper #jimitri #hoppzo #hopptonov #jimzo #two pigs in a blanket #stranger things speculation #stranger things season 4 #st4 spoilers #stranger things #dimitri enzo antonov #enzo stranger things #ronance #steddie #jargyle #Byler #humour #stranger things meme #hopper x enzo

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pinkfestivalpeanuttree · 1 year

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Happy Birthday Kim Dokja!!!

Image Description in alt text (please tell me if I messed up somehow, it's my first time doing one) and design notes under the read more:

Everyone except for OD survived an apocalypse, so. Scars.

I headcanon yjh as transfem and so I think SP grows out her hair post-epilogue.

I gave ljh a bun because I thought it'd be cute and a way to differentiate between her and 1864th round ljh. Irrelevant to this post but I headcanon him as demigirl and to use any pronouns.

I headcanon knw as non-binary and using they/them, and that they 1) one time somehow managed to burn themself even though they're immune to their own flames, hence the (my bad attempts at drawing) burn marks on their hand, 2) they wear eyeliner and always put it on unevenly (totally not just me screwing up the outlines) and 3) I believe it was canon that they used to cut themselves and hid it under the bandages on their arms, but post-epilogue they get a good support system not just in the other Outer Gods and kdj but also just being in normal society again, making friends, going to therapy (all of them need therapy good luck finding a therapist to explain who'll believe them tho) so they don't wear the bandages anymore 4) piercings

I think all of the Outer God Kings should get eldritch horror forms and I think Uriel's would be a flaming biblically accurate angel with swords, so i gave her two sets of wings to reflect that and also differentiate between her and the Uriel we're more familiar with. I also gave her a braid for the latter reason.

Not much to say about lhs, but I made his hair a bit longer than in the manhwa.

The kkoma is supposed to be 81, but you can't see her namecard from the angle.

SP baked the cake, but everyone else helped decorate it, so it looks a bit wonky (totally not just my messy art lol)

Please ignore the hands I hate drawing hands

Happy birthday Kim Dokja, and all the other reincarnated pieces of Kim Dokja. I hope dearly that you get to spend your birthday with the people who love you for many years, and that you get your happy ending.

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criminallyvenomous · 1 year

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Fighting Leads to Fxxking

Masterlist

Chapter Nine - Just Eyeliner and a Gun

Ship - Loki x Stark! Reader

Word Count - 1,059

Tw - Therapist Nat and Himbo Thor

Plot - Stark! Reader get stuck watching Loki after the events of 2012. Moments of weakness and bad decisions involving the world's most hated man lead to the worst possible outcome, pregnancy.

You had spent the night in Nat’s apartment. The couch wasn’t the comfiest for lying down and crying in, but she was rarely home so you forgave her decoration choices, or rather lack thereof.

“What’s going on?” She opened the door, after thoroughly determining you weren’t a spy trying to infiltrate her apartment using your face.

“Tony’s back to his old ways.” You invited yourself in and immediately laid face down onto the couch, already starting your comfort analysis as you sobbed.

“I’m going to kill him. What did he say?” She sat next to you, moving your hair in an attempt to see your face. You tilted to turn your head to her before you answered.

“He thinks he deserves to know who the father is and that this can’t be hard for me because he fought in a war.” You sighed.

“Y/N, trauma isn’t a comparable thing. Everyone’s experiences in life are different and valid.” She reassured you, and it actually made your feel better.

“Thank you.”

“Is Pepper okay?”

“I don’t know. I left before I could tell. He was screaming at her, Nat. He was drinking straight from the bottle. It was just like last time, except this time, I left before I could say anything stupid.”

“That was a smart decision, kid. You prioritized yourself and your baby. Stress is hard on your body, even when you’re not pregnant.” You nodded.

Her bedroom door opened, revealing a man in just his boxers.

“Pregnant? Are you pregnant, Emily?” He questioned. You looked to Nat as she gave you a ‘don’t ask’ expression.

“Go home, Scott.” He agreed and grabbed his belongings, leaving with a handful of clothes, afraid to take the time to get dressed.

“Do I ask?” You snorted, glad you were feeling humor for the first time today.

“Listen, I don’t ask you what you do in your down time.”

“Fair enough.” You both laughed together, enjoying the awkwardness and even embracing it.

“I wish I could drink right now.” You admitted, chuckling as she followed suit.

“I have something better than alcohol. It soothes the soul just right.” She explained and you were concerned, but accepting of whatever Russian trick came to follow.

She grabbed her TV remote and made you close your eyes as she found what she was looking for.

“Welcome back to Love Island!” The TV blasted and you erupted in laughter.

“Hey, there is nothing better than shitty reality TV. You get to get out of your own life for fifty minutes and enjoy watching privileged hotties make stupid decisions.”

The next two days basically concluded entirely of binge-watching the entire season of Love Island and watching random Kitchen Nightmare episodes. You never wondered what Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, did to unwind. Now, you get it. It was just sad she had to leave again, this time for a mission even you weren’t allowed to know the location of.

“Can’t I just stay here by myself?” You pleaded and she laughed.

“Nice try. You’re a barely adult pregnant with some alien spawn, you need a babysitter.” She said as she grabbed her suitcase, it was small enough to fit in carry-on. She explained earlier that she doesn’t need much on the road, just eyeliner and a gun.

“Can’t I get Bruce to come over?”

“No way. I’m not risking him Hulking out over your shared complaining about my furniture.”

“What about Barton?”

“He has a family, Y/N. I already called Thor, stop trying to get out of it.”

“How do you even call him? He’s in outer space. I doubt they have T-Mobile on Asgard.” You raised a valid point.

“I have this weird pager thing that works in space. I don’t what it is or what it does, Fury gave it to me in case of emergencies. He said he didn’t want to bothered with Asgardians for awhile. Maybe a satellite?” She pondered.

“That’s actually kind of cool. But, can’t you stay another day? I don’t want to finish the two-parter Kitchen Nightmares special by myself and I know how much you love Gordon.”

“I stayed an extra day yesterday. I have to go now. The spare keys are in the junk drawer and takeout menus are on the fridge. Just remember-“

“I know, never say Natasha Romanoff lives here. I get it. We’ve gone over your covert spy regulations like ten times by now.”

“It saves lives, Y/N. Now I have to go, give me a hug for good measure.” You walked up to her and she wrapped her arms around you, separating herself to instead kneel in front of you, she placed her hand on your stomach.

“Goodbye, baby Thor. I’ll miss you.” You laughed.

“I think you should know, it’s a girl.” You told her. She stood back up and grabbed you, pulling you into a tighter hug than before.

“I can’t wait to meet her, the future Princess of Asgard.”

She left. Hours later a knock was sounded on the door. You paused the DVR and walked to the peephole, seeing an armored chest at the eye-level. Thor.

“Little Stark! The bearer of an heir!” He greets you as you shush him, ushering him into the apartment.

“Nat said we can’t vocalize any identifiers. Her words, not mine.” You laugh.

“I do not understand the sentiment, but I accept the terms.” He earnestly said, and you laughed internally.

"So, what do you want to do?" You tried to fill the awkward silence.

"Do you wish to buy some garb fit for children?"

"Do you mean go baby shopping?" You corrected, laughing.

"Of course. Shall we?" He asked.

"Uh, I need to shower and get ready. There's a TV with a stocked DVR in the living room."

"There were several words in that sentence that were just letters," He paused, "I shall retire to the room of living." You chucked as you headed towards the bathroom.

Nat had just about every form of self care possible in her cabinet. She had a thorough skin-care regimen that you honestly respected. You overheard Thor become frustrated as he pushed random buttons on the remote, confused by the different channels.

"Aha! I have found something worthy of my efforts." He yelled, triumphantly.

It was the classical music channel.

hope u enjoyed a little adorable nat chapter! dt my bestie rae and her addiction to love island. comment if i should do a taglist? don't choke my little guttersluts - kat.

Next Chapter

#marvel #loki x stark! reader #loki #loki imagine #thor #thor odinson #loki odinson #loki x reader #pepper potts #natasha romanoff #black widow #loki fanfic #tony stark #iron man #pepper #avengers #the avengers #marvel x reader #stark! reader

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