#i say trap without meaning any offense

[schwarzkatje]

dark!orphan!ellie x nun!reader || part 2

disclaimer: this contains religious themes and slightly interiorised homophobia so if you know this is not for you don't read any further. i hope you like this descent into the pits of hell of both religion and my hunger for introspection (and also please tell me the story flow makes sense). not proofread bc i hate doing it with a passion. also, this is taking an angsty turn that i didn't mean but oh well.

> for part 1 click here

"ellie!" was what could be heard all over the courtyard and what eventually became the reason why the person whose name you shouted dropped her usual insolent smirk.

the incident of the previous day had left you in disbelief. you reckoned that it had more to do with your own lust driven conduct than it had with ellie's. you were an educator there, your role didn't involve letting one of your alumni have her way with you, no matter how legal of age she was and how little of a age gap was between the two of you. it had been immoral, shameful, a pure fever dream to which you were willing to remedy.

and what about you being a nun and still indulging in such wicked behaviours? had you perhaps forgotten your religious vocation? the fulcrum that had been dictating your whole life and on which every decision of yours had depended. and you could still play pretend that your attraction to women didn't play a huge part in your decision to confine yourself in a convent or wherever you were needed, but that would be your umpteenth sin, lying.

acknowledging your mind was beginning to wander in dangerous territories that could tarnish your renewed courage and substitute it with coward uncertainty, you refrain from further dwelling there and instead focus on what you had came to do.

before you was ellie, her grimace now an upright expression of disgust as her head hinted to the girl in front of her to leave. at least she looked like she was reading the room, recognising you had the urgency to address a serious situation and that this called for a certain degree of privacy.

you were fast proven wrong and the devil's laugh echoed in your ears, teasing you for not giving up on ellie and still tumbling in the illusion of reading any of her actions as redeemable or without the wickedness the other sisters had been warning you about.

"wasn't the last time enough for you that had to come for more?" was spat out in what you now considered a torment, given the frequency of this filth. however, it now strengthen the force of the damage it meant to inflict as it had a thick skin to wear. it wasn't just a decontextualised question without a standing and stable ground. ellie was obliging you to revive your blasphemous encounter in which she had menaced you with something so inconceivably disgusting that you deemed as outrageous as a capital sin and so offensive towards god to even give it a mere second of life in your memory.

without giving you the semblance of a chance to defend your dignity, she began her usual and monstrous journey of tearing as much of your integrity and hope as possible.

"what, are you gonna inform mother superior about me smoking a blunt?" the mentioned item was discarded with nonchalance. "or did a single orgasm with me made you so obsessed that you now are jealous i was talking to another girl?" was the grotesque addition to her first equally absurd insinuation.

needless to say, no matter how much you had grown accustomed to ellie's way of tainting her speech, you still couldn't help but remind your chest to let the stored air out, trapped in an aching press around your heart.

what dealt the final and most destructive blow was the ever insinuating belief that ellie simply was beyond control and beyond salvation. a realisation so unbearable that your ego pressed so intensely to push all reasoning aside and out of your mind. the same ego that would have rather died than accept that the time you had spent believing you could make a change had all been wasted bullshit, that you had in fact been dead wrong when you had taken ellie's side against the abuse of power perpetrated by the other nuns.

you were torn between screaming in frustration and crying in pain because of just how much you were supposed to take and let sink in you and once again negotiate in order not to accept defeat and it was starting to weight so much you—

"why don't we talk about what seems to be an unhealthy obsession that you have with fucking a nun?"

shit.

you gained awareness of what you just had vomited when ellie, even though for a brief moment, found herself not knowing how to comment on such an unexpected outburst.

what the hell did you just do? all the big talking about being the mature and reasonable one and it took the time of a snapping of fingers for you to descend on the level of a petty teenager quarrel. ellie didn't make a show of her respect to elders with spotless reputation, so what chance did you stand of wishing for ellie to come to her senses thanks to your guidance?

ellie taking advantage of the situation and turning it to her favour was typical of her and it happened faster than you could expect.

"well, well... and what if that is the case, mh?" the humming sound was accompanied by the slight tilt of her head to the side, as if to find a fashion to penetrate deeper inside the remnants of your crumbling facade. not to mention, this was becoming more than she could have ever bargained for and the hunger in her eyes was proof that if anything she was finding your destruction the most amusing event she could recall.

"i would call an exorcist and put an end to this foolishness," you were conscious that this, if anything, was but fuel to ellie's debauchery.

"i quite like that. would you have them exorcise me before or after you get the chance to ask for god's forgiveness after coming all over my face while screaming his name?" ellie was giving voice to anything that came to her mind at that point. she was slipping, drowning in her own depravity and thirst for the unquenchable rush of heat that followed the vision of your face transmuted into something uncontrollable.

and infuriated you were. putting god into this hellish game, using his name in vain. you had just one objective in mind and ellie tore it down before you could even attempt to have her admit her wrongdoing. what you had been saying was coated in venom, tracing the path of ellie's poisonous temptations and completely detached to your first intention.

you were dancing on ellie's palm, the same way everyone in the orphanage was. you were no exception and it was feeling more and more like a death sentence.

before you could let go of the last droplet of willingness and accept that you were now a slave to her sick play, you slapped her on her face.

you were no longer your own person, you were a shell to somebody else's actions because you had spent your years learning to hate physical violence masqueraded as a educational mean.

you couldn't care less. and for this reason when ellie threatened you with the promise of making you pay for that, you bathed in a perverse anticipation for what she could possibly have in store.

#ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie x reader smut #ellie williams smut #ellie x y/n #ellie smut #ellie x you #the last of us smut #dark ellie #ellie williams x you #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou

[reidsaurora]

emmy may i request candy cane kisses with the prompt snowed in at the bau with our beloved Spence <33 hot cocoas and manilla folders

I'm so excited for your Christmas challenge!! Happy holidays love <33

"Snow and Sweet" ~ S. Reid

Summary: In which a cup of hot cocoa and a slip of the tongue leads to a mistletoe kiss and a love confession.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader (reader wears lipstick but fuck social norms)

Word Count: 1,493

Content Warning: the tiniest bit of angst because Y/N is lowkey insecure because of Elle, mentions of coffee and hot chocolate, like one (1) swear word, Spencer is autistic but what's new, honestly i think that's it?

Genre: Fluff, v fluffy 🫶🏻

Extra Notes: this took me soooo long to write but as they say, good things take time 🫡

Based on the Request: "emmy may i request candy cane kisses with the prompt snowed in at the bau with our beloved Spence <33 hot cocoas and manilla folders"

Originally Written: 01/03/2022

Beta Read By: @dungeons-are-too-cold

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

"ofwilliamandwalter's Christmas special" can be found here!

You weren't quite sure how you found yourself in this position, but one way or another, you were stuck at the BAU… with Spencer Reid. Only Spencer Reid.

It wouldn't have been the worst thing in the world if you didn't have the biggest (and probably most unrequited) crush on the man.

You'd been working together for two years, straight out of the Training Academy. He must've been so smart he skipped training, you reckoned, because you were sure you would've seen someone as beautiful as him around and probably would've failed from being distracted by him.

Spencer looked much different now then when you'd first met, and if he'd looked like that in training, you were sure you would've tripped during your high speed chase at Hogan's Alley. His shaggy hair was replaced with neatly trimmed waves, his contacts were replaced with glasses that made him carry himself with a confidence you hadn't seen when you first met, and his shy, questioning smile was replaced with one of certainty. He seemed much more like his true self.

Any other time, you might've not minded being snowed in at the BAU. After all, it was a big enough building—a library on the second floor, a coffee shop on the first. But tonight was Christmas Eve, and you cursed yourself for insisting that you could finish up your paperwork and have time to make it to Penelope's apartment for a Christmas movie night.

Only five pages remained of your work when Spencer stepped toward your desk. "The Weather Channel says we might be snowed in." he'd said, his voice stupidly sweet, his expression stupidly concerned, his face stupidly beautiful.

Here you were, three hours later, sipping on some hot chocolate in your favorite work mug and avoiding Spencer like a plague. This was especially hard considering you were the only two people on this floor.

"You OK?" he asked, breaking you from your online shopping trance. "Well," he chuckled, "all things considered."

No. I'm trapped in here with the person I find most attractive who probably doesn't find me the least bit attractive. "All good," you smiled before taking another sip of hot chocolate.

He sat down in the chair next to yours, (Derek's, but it wasn't like he was there to use it anyway). A sideways smile stretched across his face as he said, "Well, please don't take offense when I say this, but I am a profiler and I can tell when something seems wrong. You've been avoiding me for one thing and every time we have spoken, you say three words or less."

"Not true," you pouted, crossing your arms in front of your chest. Your words reverberated in your ears, realization hitting you like a bus. "Sorry," you said, looking away. "I'm just not having the best night. I mean, I am stuck in the BAU with-"

You stopped abruptly, not sure how you'd let that much slip. Great, Y/N. Just great.

"With what?" he asked. Of course he caught that.

"Without Piper. She's my tabby cat." Well, at least he knows how much you love animals.

His mouth twisted. "You have a cat? That's so cool. I've always wanted a cat but I couldn't own one because my mom and I both have cat allergies." Of course he has cat allergies. How could I possibly make this worse?

Luckily, you stopped yourself before any more embarrassing things could slip from your tongue. Instead you took another sip of chocolatey goodness, thankful that it was the last one. "I'm gonna go make some more hot chocolate," you managed to say.

Much to your dismay, Spencer followed behind, reaching up into the shelf directly above you. His chest gently nudged your back, though his body felt rock solid. When did Spencer get so buff under those sweater vests?

"Sorry," he said with a blush.

You shook your head, perhaps a tad too fast. "It's all good." You turned your attention back to the fridge, grabbing the milk for your cocoa. Thank goodness Penelope stocks this fridge like she owns it.

A couple minutes had passed and you'd finished making your cocoa just as Spencer finished making his cup of coffee. You turned to walk back to the bullpen, but he grabbed your wrist with his free hand. Damn those hands. "Hey, are you sure you're OK?"

You set your mug back on the counter, your arms crossing tightly in front of your chest. "I am fine, Reid."

His eyes softened and his brows furrowed. "Did I do something?"

Your stomach churned at the thought of ever making Spencer sad or distressed. "Of course not! Why would you think that?"

"You keep avoiding me. You tensed up when I reached around you for my mug. You won't make eye contact with me. I'm just scared I've done something."

You shook your head, giving him a reassuring smile. "Spencer, you could never. I promise. I love you too much to ever-"

"You what?"

You froze in your tracks. If it hadn't been for hearing your slip of the tongue, Spencer might've thought you'd been seen a ghost.

"You love me?" he asked.

You couldn't move, you couldn't breathe, and the only thing you were sure you could do was hear because his question echoed in your head like he'd screamed it at the Grand Canyon.

"Y/N?" he called, waving a hand in front of your face. It wasn't until you blinked that he was sure you were still alive. You wanted to disappear. When you remembered that Spencer knew magic tricks, you were tempted to ask him how much you'd have to pay to see him make you disappear into thin air.

"If it's any consolation, I think I like you, which I know isn't the same but…" he told you, his voice trailing awkwardly. At least you weren't awkward alone. He chuckled for a moment before examining, "I sound like a seventh grader right now, don't I?"

Some of the heaviness left your chest as his response rang through your eardrums. "You… like me?"

He nodded softly, his cheeks tinged as red as your favorite Christmas mug. "I do. I'm assuming by what you said that you must really like me too."

You let out a deep sigh before looking up at him. "If I have to be honest, I've had the biggest crush on you since the day I met you. Up until about twenty seconds ago, I just assumed it was unrequited. I mean, the way you always looked at Elle before she left-"

He blushed with an awkwardly amused huff. "I suppose I should admit that I always thought Elle was pretty. Doesn't mean I thought she was prettier than you."

This time, a rouge made its way to your own cheeks. "Really? I mean, Elle's got everything. A nice body, she's smart, she's beautiful, and I'm… well, I'm me."

An expression of reassurance overtook his face as he placed a hand on your shoulder. "You are both beautiful in your own ways. You shouldn't compare yourself to others. Yes, I liked you both, but for different reasons. I always thought Elle was pretty. But you… I think you're beautiful. And you've always been kind to me. You're one of the only people here who respects my neurodiversity."

Your eyes darted away awkwardly, up to the roof—or rather, what was hanging from the roof. Why does the universe hate me?

Spencer must've noticed your eyes, widened and focused on whatever was above his head. His head tilted upward, and you were secretly thankful your eyes were stuck to the roof, otherwise you might've melted on the spot after seeing that one stupidly beautiful vein in his neck. "Huh," he said, his tone the most nonchalant you'd ever heard, "mistletoe."

"Yep," you replied, the p popping louder than you'd expected it to.

He looked back down at you, his cheeks redder and hotter than ever. "Hey, traditions are stupid anyway. We don't have to-"

He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed your lips twist the slightest bit downward. Even you hadn't noticed it until he was grabbing your face and pulling your lips into his, forcing them upward again.

He smelled sweet, probably because of the fifteen spoonfuls of creamer and sugar he always put in his coffee. Your stomach turned, probably a mix of nerves from your current position and the sickeningly sweet smell of Spencer Reid (or his coffee, anyway).

His hands stayed on either side of your face as he pulled away. You let out a giggle as you saw the remnants of your favorite lipstick coating his lips.

Spencer's wristwatch beeped loudly, breaking you away from your trance. He glanced down at his wrist while his other hand darted up to the nape of his neck. "Merry Christmas?" he said, cringing.

You giggled once more, pulling him in for another kiss. "Merry Christmas, sweet boy."

Rups, my dear!!!! This was such a cute request and I am so glad with how it turned out!

I wrote this probably ten times and nothing ever seemed good enough. I'm sure you as a writer understand that sometimes, you make your standards way too high for your own self 🤣 But, finally, one last time I deleted the document and started anew... and this is what happened! I love it so so much and I hope you do too!!

As always, thank you for being so patient with me. Sometimes requests take me a little while because I want to have the vision as beautiful as the requester has made it out to be so it does take me a lil bit longer sometimes to do that. Thank you for your patience, my dear!!!

↳ Request an imagine here!

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[kit-williams]

Caught in the Rain

Male Lead: Ghosk Female Lead: Rabbit Universe/AU: Warhammer 40k/Yandere Space Marines Canon Status: 100% canon

Note: I 100% listened to a rainy day playlist which is hilarious given its 40k and there is a Night Lord involved

My legs burned as well as my lungs. The rain was so loud in my ears as I couldn't run any further and I had to stop as the cold drops of water slammed into my skin and my soaked clothing. I couldn't hear the fighting anymore... not for a long while but that didn't mean I wasn't just a quick jog away from a bunch of space marines. I move on unsteady legs to some shade. Ghosk was fairly personable... in the sense he joined warbands and had literally one rule... for me to not be touched by anyone else. Yet I don't know what it was about me that made someone, not always but, want to mess with me and therefor mess with Ghosk.

It always dissolved into Ghosk getting angry and then eventually they have to move on because not many appreciate a Night Lords creativity for murder of another Space Marine. I didn't understand why they would think he wouldn't retaliate... he was petty and spiteful and very much protective of what was his. I lean against the tree shaking from the cold drops as the tree was hardly protecting me. "Fucking manicured tree." I say softly just smiling as I know that is something Ghosk would complain about.

The sound of rain changed as I looked up seeing a large wing covering the sky right above me and I looked over my shoulder at, "Ghosk. You made it." I say breathlessly as I limp over to him and stand on the tips of my toes to hug him. The rain cleaning off any gore left on him... the consistent tapping against his armor and the soft hiss of it hitting the cooling pack on his back.

"Are you alright?" He says having pulled off his helmet and I wince for him.

A nasty bruise is a dark purple thing that eats up half of his face. Crimson blood that is nearly black runs out of his hastily fixed nose and from between his teeth but the rain quickly dampens his sweat laced hair and washes away the blood. He just grins as my eyes look over him.

"I feel like I should be asking that." I say softly as he throws his head back laughing, the skulls on his hip and armor clinking softly against their bindings and his armor.

"You're a funny little rabbit." He says wrapping me up in his wing. It was like I was sitting in one of those hanging chairs... except this chair was made of flesh as the inside skin was dry and warm. I couldn't help but shiver against him. "You're so cold..." He said with what I assumed was concern as I could feel the way his other wing cupped around me as well.

I sniffled loudly which didn't seem to help my case, "I'll be fine."

"Bullshit." He just replies with a huff as he starts to move me closer to his chest.

"Isn't this hurting your wings?" I ask looking up at him as how he has me against his chest he can look down at me and I can look up at him without rain coming in.

"No." He says with mock offense at my questioning of his strength and pain tolerance. "Hardly weigh a thing. Maybe if you weren't such a leggy thing and put on some weight." He teases as I snort as I can feel how the 'fingers' of the wings move against me as if petting me slightly.

"Maybe you should drop me off someplace so you'll stop getting kicked out of warbands." I say as I can see him open the cocoon of flesh he's trapped me in to give me a look of a quirked eyebrow and his typical smirk.

"And deprive myself of your company? Not a chance. You're worth the annoyances... you're worth the bullshit... you're worth it. " He says so casually as I turn away hiding the blush on my face. I hear his chuckle, "Did I say something wrong?" Clearly knowing what he said.

"You're an ass."

"An honest ass... but yes I'm very much an ass."

"Why do you do it Ghosk?" I roll back over to look at him as he just looks down at me with his typical smile. "I don't think I'm worth you getting kicked out of warbands for."

"Well good thing I'm not asking you. " He says chuckling, "You're my rabbit and I'm going to take care of you." He says softly nearly being drowned out by the noise of the rain.

I let my eyes close for but a moment to listen to the rain against broken pavement... the way his steps make their sounds... the sounds of his armor... I open my eyes up to the pop of wood burning and the sound of rolling thunder.

"There's my sleeping beauty. Thought I would have to give you that kiss to wake you up soon."

I laugh softly as I sit up... "Ghosk where's my clothes."

"Drying. Also here is your bag you left behind. So you can get dressed. Not like I haven't seen you naked before." He says shrugging as he puts a warmed up ration into my lap. The skeleton of a store is where he decided to hide us in... as he made a nest of pillows and blankets for me as there is a small pile of damp towels nearby.

The flash of lightning gets him to jump up over to me as it sounds, smells, and feels like it strikes oh so very close by. "Know what."

"What." He drawls out slowly relaxing.

"I think I'm okay just being here... " I say wrapped up in a haphazardly made nest with food in my belly... and well Ghosk wasn't exactly terrible company.

"I think I can agree with you on that." He smiles sitting nearby and resting one of his wings over me to just be touching me? I don't really know but with the warm meal in my stomach my eyes look out at the rain rushing down outside.

My hands slowly move over his wings moving between the membrane to the 'fingers' but soon I just move my fingers over the claw just absentmindedly playing with it. I don't realize how I just drift off in his hold... I don't feel the way he picks me up and just holds me close for a small bit before tucking me back into the nest. And once the rain passes we return to how it always has been... Ghosk and I meandering through life and death together.

Fluffuary taglist: @bispecsual @the-californicationist @egrets-not-regrets @libraryshadow @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

#warhammer 40k #yandere space marine #yandere #space marine #OC: Ghosk #space marine x reader #x reader #fluffuary #fluffuary2024 #Night Lord #yandere night lord #Youtube

[romeulusroy]

Pig (Lukas Matsson × Roy!Sibling)

Characters: Lukas

Word Count: 1,368

A/N: Do I love, love, love Roman for going off on him? Yes he is my baby boy!!! I don't really know what this is, I just know he'd be v creepy to the Baby Roy sibling and it would definitely get backlash from the older siblings 💞 Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

FIC MASTERLISTS/TAG LIST 

You are like your father. He speaks in a way that is thoughtful, though not kind. Forward, as if he were scared to waste a second of time on frail pleasantries. He is frank, honest, his humor bordering on indistinguishable. And yet, there is something about it you cannot resist. Cold, calloused, and cruel? You ask lightly, staring down your drink. He laughs with his whole chest. Its a strange thing to hear from him, a man like him, who uses his humor not in a defensive way, but an offensive way. It drives your brothers mad, and your sister can’t stand the look of him, but there is something about him you can’t quite piece together. A puzzle you can’t solve. The fact that you don’t know him makes him all the more intense, more of an unknown. He knew your father though, and that in itself is enough of a red flag. He trusted men made of barbed wire without morals. He had a type. Unpredictable, he offers, but intelligent. You both see the whole picture. What kind of picture were you looking at now? Matsson reclined in his chair, drinking carefully. You stood opposite to him, leaning against the back of the chair, swirling your drink, too aware that you were only people in the room. Too aware of the silence between you was thick, obtuse, that there were the muted sounds of your parties mingling just outside the door. You didn’t want to claw your way back to them, making small talk while they talked poorly of you in their mother tongue. You weren’t eager to see your own kind either. Equally as indigestible, they questioned why you were even here. Couldn’t even wait for the body to be in the ground. You said without thinking, watching your drink spin. He doesn’t look at all surprised. Do you think that makes me barbaric? From anyone else, it would have come off egocentric, feigning worry, fear. The way his eyes widened, eyebrows raised, he seemed genuinely concerned. Had he never thought about it? Really? Something in him must’ve known the timing, the demands, they were off. Thoughtless. You let the question linger in the air for a moment, watching, waiting for his expression to change. It never falters. Who are you? What kind of game are you playing? We all do what we have to, you shrugged finally. That’s the truth. In this life, this game, there is never a right moment, only the correct move. He nods, his eyes moving from you to the floor. The lulls in conversation are natural. Never awkward or painful. The ice in your glass clinks together. It’s all you can do with your hands. Behind him, the night, the mountains, everything sleeps soundly under the dark blanket of the night sky. 

Can I ask, what are you doing here? Here, where? Here in Norway? Here in his room? Or, here in existence? You couldn’t do it, be left behind. Take care of the funeral arrangements. Connor was there, but he kept calling you, Rome. You didn’t have the heart to pick up, to deal with him, with any of this. When you found out they were going, you packed a bag. They didn’t say no outright, but they didn’t say yes either. Too bad. It wasn’t rainy enough on New York. The corners of his lip turn up for a few seconds. Funny, you can practically see the thought form in his mind. Funny, yes. No, no I mean what are you doing here, now. Your eyes meet his. Because you found me wandering alone, trying to get away from the collegiate mayhem, and you invited yourself in. You shut the door. You locked us in. You poured us drinks without asking, assuming, getting comfortable on the couch. Was it deeper than that? Trapped with a man who wanted your company, your everything, to take from your brothers and sister in the comfort of his own land. Sort of. Almost his land. A hell of a way from home, that’s for sure. 

You’re nothing like them, you know. He says this so seriously, so matter-of-factly, it makes you want to laugh. How so? Clearly, he’s seeing someone you aren’t, a fictitious replacement of the person standing before him. You’re exactly like them. All of them. Connor, Kendall, Siobhan, Roman. All of you responsible for your own faults, your own misgivings, equally fucked up by your father one way or another. You figured he was smarter than this, at least you would have hoped so. Pick up on the things others didn’t. Notice you weren’t sitting across from him, not wanting to get too comfortable. Swirling your glass, never taking a sip. You wouldn’t dare get sloppy in his company. Or how about the facial expressions you make when his party speaks, matching theirs. Förstår du detta, motherfucker? You weren’t an idiot, far from it actually. He seemed to be though. You just are, in a good way of course. Was this going to get you take your clothes off? This “sweet talk”? He had to be better than this. Has anyone ever told you you’re a complete fool when you open your mouth or are you too busy surrounding yourself with yes men? You bite your tongue. The thought lingers than you’d like. Why are you talking to me? You ask instead, your glass sweating, the alcohol becoming watery, runny. I have no stakes in this company, not really. My brothers and sister are in charge. They make the deals, agree upon the numbers. I’m here on vacation. You go on, the words falling from your mouth before you can catch them. Of all of us, it should be Ken in here, making small talk, trying to figure you out. Not me. His grin made your skin crawl..

I like you the most. If you had been drinking, you would have spat it out, though the shock of that didn’t read in your expression. If I could, I’d make all my deals with you. Only you. He didn’t even know you. You could count the handful of times you’d ever interacted. It was always full of snarky comments on your part, the kind your siblings had to come in and rescue you from, though you preferred them not to. You take a step back, needing space, air. Please, sit. He pats the space next to him. No way would you get any closer than this. You got the sense that if you got too close, he might try to bite you. Stick his hand between your legs. Worse. You can only shake your head in response. No thank you, your father would correct. He wasn’t here to do so, though. Still, this deal is a big one. You had to be respectful, right? You’re just saying that to be nice. I’m sure you would rather talk with Ken or Rome, they know a lot more than I do. I wouldn't even know where to start. You laugh, hoping this is the end of the conversation. Hoping someone could come in and rescue you. No one ever did. Shadows passed beneath the door, but there was no knock, no clearing of the throat, no one to notice you were gone. That he was gone, too. Those airheads? He chuckled. You slammed down your glass. This was your out. Truthfully, your brothers could be idiots. They were idiots. Together they shared a single coherent thought once every blue moon. Still, he didn’t have to know this. Your ticket out. Your anger was beautiful, your disgust just perfect. He stood quickly, trying to self-correct. Y/n, I didn’t- that wasn’t meant to- what I mean. . . Too late. You moved to the door before he hand the chance to block you, jiggling the handle, fiddling with the lock until it opened. Outside, you could finally breathe in something that wasn’t his cologne. You needed a shower. You needed to talk to Ken, Rome, Shiv, whoever. Let them know who they were really dealing with. Jävla kryp. You hissed loud enough for him to hear before slamming the door shut. Fucking creep.

#writing #lukas matsson #lukas matsson x reader #lukas matsson fic #succession #succession imagine #succession fic

[soylent-crocodile]

Moørkutlot (Monster)

(One of Kaimere's most unique and infamous monsters, the silent one was teased for a good few years before we finally got to see exactly what it was and what it evolved from! I have to say, while the titanosaurs and megaraptors and sloths of kaimere are the bread and butter of the setting, the moorkutlot is to my eyes one of its most iconic creatures. Here's a link to the youtube vid about it, if you're interested in alien monsters and/or spec evo, I'd reccomend a watch.

All that said, an animal is only as strong as its context, and while the moorkut is a predator so deadly it can scare an entire ecosystem into silence, I imagine it's kinda small beans in a world that has fire breathing magic lizards the size of a city block as an apex predator.)

CR11 TN Large Animal HD16

Moorkutlot are nightmarish predators of icy forests on a faraway planet, distantly related to amphibians but evolved to a far more active, predatory role. Moorkutlot have a number of adaptations that make them terrifying hunters- their metabolism fluctuates between high- and low- energy periods, making them capable of going months without a meal, but capable of long-term chases and bursts of extreme speed and ferocity. They are social hunters, and in regions where they live a single moorkutlot hunting may lead to a half dozen or so ganging up on a target as the sound of a struggle attracts more. Most notoriously, however, is the non-newtonian fluid produced by modified mucus glands in their body; this is both a defensive tool, protecting them from powerful strikes, and an offensive one. Outside the body, the fluid sticks to skin and joints and makes escape a struggle, but inside the body it is truly dangerous; it rapidly clogs blood and joints, making movement nearly impossible and quickly leading to cardiac arrest. This fluid dissolves in salt, however, and this means that moorkutlot universally avoid oceans.

In their homeland, they are integrated into the ecology of their world as much as any other animal- they are dominant predators, yes, but life around them has learned to accommodate for their behavior and deadly weaponry. Not so for other planets- moorkutlot are occasionally used as terrible biological weapons, something that can be dropped on a planet and allowed to run wild, killing sentients and destroying the local ecosystem.

This horse-sized creature has a face that opens like a flower to reveal snapping jaws, and craggy gray skin covered in strange slime.

Misc- CR11 TN Large Animal HD16 Init:+7 Senses: Blind, Blindsight 60ft Perception:+16

Stats- Str:26(+8) Dex:16(+3) Con:23(+6) Int:2(-4) Wis:20(+5) Cha:11(+0) BAB:+12/+7/+2 Space:10ft Reach:5ft

Defense- HP:168 (16d8+96) AC:21(+3 Dex, -1 Size, +9 Natural) Fort:+16 Ref:+15 Will:+10 CMD:44 Immunity: Gaze and other visual effects Special Defenses: DR10/Salt

Offense- Bite +20(2d6+12 plus Poison) or Spit +15(1d4 Acid, Non-Newtonian Spit, 20ft) CMB:+21 Speed:40ft

Feats- Improved Initiative, Power Attack (-4/+8), EnduranceB, Feral Grapple, Improved Bull Rush, Weapon Focus (Bite), Skill Focus (Stealth), Lightning Reflexes

Skills- Perception +16, Climb +16, Stealth +9 (+4 Racial to Climb)

Special Qualities- Metabolic Surge

Ecology- Environment- Forests (Cold) Languages- None Organization- Solitary, Gang (4-6) Treasure- None

Special Abilities- Blindsight (Ex)- A Moorkutlot’s blindsight is echolocation-based; it cannot sense within areas of Silence or similar spells. Non-Newtonian Spit (Ex)- The moorkutlot spits a spray of thick, viscous fluid that traps an entangles its victims. Creatures hit  by this saliva are entangled without a save. This fluid cannot be removed without a DC16 Strength check, universal solvent, or at least a ¼ pound of salt. Metabolic Surge (Ex)- Three times a day, a moorkutlot can push its metabolism into overdrive, giving it an additional move action. It cannot use this ability if it has used it since the start of its last round. Moorkutlot Poison (Ex)- Bite-Injury Save:Fort DC20 Effect: Victim takes 1d6+1 Con damage and is Stunned Frequency: 1/round Cure: 2 Consecutive Saves

#soylent original #monsters and races #homebrew #pathfinder #tales of kaimere #kaimere #speculative evolution

[privateanxieties]

forget my mercy, take my blame (chapter 6)

Summary: David has a conversation with you that Frank most definitely did not approve of. But, what Frank doesn't know won't hurt him. Right?

Words: 2.3K

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

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David needs to tread carefully. The last time he did something like this was when he talked to Madani behind Frank's back, and Castle let him know what he thought of him in no uncertain terms. It nearly ended their friendship. A repeat experience might actually entice Frank to drive back to New York just to communicate his feelings about this second subtle betrayal. 

Okay— so maybe he's being a snake in the grass. But if being a snake means he gets to avoid Frank walking into a silent trap and prevent her from getting herself killed, then David will slither right along with a clean conscience. It doesn't mean he won't be a little nervous when he has to break the news to his friend, but he'll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

In the meantime, he repeats the information he wants to relay in his head as the phone rings, much like he would for a doctor's appointment. 

After the fifth ring, a whooshing crackle floods the speakers, and a quick glance at his third monitor reveals the phone is still on the ground. He's getting clear blue skies and tree branches through the frontal camera he surreptitiously activated. 

"Hello?" he says, and if his voice wobbles just a bit, he chalks it up to not having done this in a while. Truth be told, he was almost as nervous to do it to Frank for the first time, back when he was trying to get them to team up. He suspects nothing of the sort will be happening here. 

"Hellooo? Are y—" 

"Let me see you or I hang up."  

He freezes at the sudden command. Shit. No. No, absolutely not. He's not turning on the camera. Play dumb. 

"This isn't that kind of call—"

"You have ten seconds."  

Fuck. 

"How did you—" 

"I changed my mind. Five seconds."  

Fuck! Jesus Christ, Sarah was going to murder him herself. Time runs out and he resigns himself to his fate, granting permission to his video feed at the last second and instantly cringing at the mustard-stained shirt staring back at him in high definition. For a while, things are silent. Then, a full-blown sigh is released through the speakers as the woman comes into view, having finally picked up the phone. She looks a little worse for wear with the sun beating down upon her, but David can't make out too much detail in her face. It's a poor connection on her end and a shitty camera, mostly because the phone was built for durability more than anything else. 

Silence ensues again as they stare each other down for a few long moments. David blinks first. 

"Are you going to say anything? Because—" he begins, but is interrupted yet again. 

"Are you his sidekick? You look like a sidekick. The nerdy type, obviously," the woman says. David takes immediate offense, yet he finds that in this instance, he kind of fits the role she assumes of him. He's got monitors for days both in front and behind him, and the newly acquired pair of glasses he hasn't gotten used to rests uncomfortably on the bridge of his nose. He has to admit he looks the picture. Still, he protests. 

"Frank doesn't do sidekicks. And anyway, I'm more of a guidance system. He'd be lost without me. So, not a sidekick," he chides. Even with the shitty connection he can tell she isn't impressed. 

"Yeah…" she says, sounding pretty bored to David's ears. "…To be honest with you, I don't care. I want you both to leave me the hell alone. Figure you can use your guidance system to get lost?"  

David resists the urge to roll his eyes, though a snort does escape him. 

"Trust me, this wasn't my idea. I think you might want to listen though, before you make any more wise choices, yeah? Because right now, I'm your only chance of avoiding a bullet," he warns. 

"Is your friend looking to return the favor?" she asks. David balks at the misunderstanding. 

"What? No! Not from Frank. You know, I don't think you've realized yet that he's actually trying to help you. I mean, okay— He's not the most friendly-looking guy, but he means well. And I don't think he blames you for shooting him, if you were worried about that." 

"I wasn't." She moves some hair away from her face, seeming to gaze at something in the distance. "As for helping me, nobody asked him to. If he gets involved again—"  

David takes the chance to interrupt her this time. 

"Did you kill Collins?" 

An amused smile subtly lights up her face. 

"I'm sorry, who?"  

"Come on, we both know what I'm talking about." 

"You expect me to admit to murder over FaceTime?"  

"You think I'm recording this?" 

"No, no. I trust you, stranger who knows my name and location."  

David's eyes roll back until they hurt. And he thought talking to Frank was like herding cats. He decides he's fine with being accused of having no patience; he has to break through her unbothered exterior somehow, and letting her know the depth of the pile of shit she's in might be a good start. 

"There's an APB out for your arrest in Apolline County." 

It feels like entire minutes pass as he studies her features, though in reality it can't be more than a few seconds. David thinks he sees a hint of the emotions she ought to be feeling, but they disappear as soon as they come. She reverts to impassivity, but at least now he knows it's a carefully constructed façade. This isn't unlike someone else he knows, and he dreads to think what other points of congruence might be found between them. To his trained eye, she and Frank are pretty similar. 

"Hm. Well that's handy. I was just about to turn myself in."  

Morbidly similar. 

"You're going to the police?!" David sputters, incredulous. 

"The police went to my house. I'm just paying it forward," she replies, and it's at this point that David wonders if he shouldn't just let her and Frank figure it out themselves, because this kind of stubbornness will never be reasoned with. 

"You're walking into a trap, is what you're doing," he mutters, watching his screen for any pending alerts. He needs a new approach to this entire conversation. He needs to stop wasting time. 

"Not anymore, now that you've told me they're looking for me."  

David thinks talking to a wall might actually result in a more fruitful exchange. Jesus Christ. He slams a hand down on his desk in frustration. 

"No, you don't understand. The arrest isn't based on a warrant. No judge issued one. It means the police are trying to find you without anyone knowing it if they do. That's why they didn't broadcast it beyond county lines. They don't want anyone asking questions. They're luring you and you're giving them exactly what they want." 

"And why exactly are they luring me, if you're so knowledgeable?" she drawls, leaning against a tree. 

"Personally, I think it might be because you did exactly what Frank warned you not to do," David snarks. 

"What's that?" she asks with a sigh. 

"Uhh… Starting a war with a drug cartel because you killed their boss' little brother?" 

Silence.

Prolonged, extended silence. Laborious. Heavy. Poignant, if David may say so himself. 

"He did tell you that, didn't he?" 

Extremely poignant, apparently.

.

.

.

.

.

.

In retrospect, you did hear something about a war coming out of Frank's mouth right before you shot him. The information had not been this concise, unfortunately. Perhaps his nerdy friend should've been the one relaying all the details from the beginning. Perhaps you shouldn't have shot him like a spaz just because he blocked the door , your conscience objects. Eyes rolling back into your skull, you ponder the inconvenience-turned-potential-disaster while the phone waits inside the van, urgency be damned. With your head leaned against the tree bark, you quietly wish for that clarity you had just hours ago to return. Could things be better? Maybe, but that's neither here nor there. Could they be worse? Definitely. Regardless, the future is the only thing you control. 

A bird's eye view from an omniscient being would be nice to have. Instead, you're weighed down with hindsight and nothing else, much like the never-ending video loop of past events. You know what happened and in what order, but you can't intervene. The what-ifs begging to be factored into your reasoning are harshly buried. You've been down this road before, and those questions only serve as a distraction. You're not very interested in avoiding reality at the moment, particularly when your mouth is parched and you're showering in your own sweat under the Utah sun. 

A few more hours to go until dusk and you're stuck in a random patch of woods, theoretically armed to the teeth but realistically fucked in more than one capacity. Fresh off a murder. An APB for your arrest that only a couple of police stations know about, both under the Sheriff's jurisdiction and command. A home that was broken into by that very Sheriff. Location and name known to a very talkative and weird stranger, who appears to be friends with a not very talkative, even weirder stranger. Micro and Frank , a perfect comedy duo. 

So here you are, realizing how complicated the situation is and immediately resentful of the fact that you agreed to work with someone who has clear leverage over you. Around you, the woods are pretty quiet, not that you're very deep inside the tree line. You can still spot the road ahead if you peer around Frank's van, and it's still just as empty as you knew it would be on a Sunday afternoon. The occasional supply truck traveling between towns doesn't really amount to much traffic. There are no birds chirping or leaves rustling, because everything is either dead or dying here. You don't intend to become one with the scenery of godforsaken Utah, so just this once, you ate your pride. It went down worse than a dry-swallowed pill. Well, at least now you know what Sam meant by 'my brother's going to kill you'. Actually, you think he might've said 'fucking kill you'. A small chuckle tickles your parched lips. Sometimes you just have to learn to find these things funny. 

Agreeing to follow Micro's instructions is most definitely funny, considering your general inability to do as you're told. The contents of his plan are also hilarious in and of themselves: leave Apolline and never look back, keep the phone with you so he knows when you've left the state entirely, and in exchange he'll pretend he lost your trail when his friend asks about you. 

In all honesty, you're not sure what their deal is. Why Frank is eager to get in your way and his friend is willing to lie to ensure that he doesn't is just another one of life's little mysteries. One thing, however, is no mystery: you don't want to cross paths with the man you shot, grudge or no grudge. Leaving suits you just fine from this perspective, but from another, doing as Micro said is completely at odds with your whole life philosophy. You're not looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life, and that's exactly what you would be doing if you cut your losses and left. You could've done that back in the desert, but you didn't. You came back for a reason. 

O'Hare was inside your house. It doesn't matter that you were never going to live in it again after what happened. He invaded your space. He was looking for something — apparently, that something was indeed you. An inelegant snort falls from your lips. He wants to arrest you? You can only imagine his line of thought: someone murdered an old woman on your porch, so naturally you're the only suspect. He's probably under pressure from the mayor to find a culprit, what with elections coming up. Nobody's been murdered in Apolline since the late 2000's. You know. You've checked.

So what’s a girl to do in this mess? Could you run and never be found? Probably. 

Are you going to?

…

Another chuckle, much fonder this time, really accentuates your thirst. It’s stupid to even pretend you could ever follow along with Micro’s plan, no matter how eager you are to never see his worse half again. You don’t run before business is wrapped up. It’s not something you even know how to do. If you’ve stepped on a little cartel’s tail, you’ll deal with that as it develops. And if the Sheriff is really looking for you due to misguided reasons, well… who are you to deny him discovery? 

Pushing away from the tree, you wince as your skin protests from the harsh imprint left by the bark even through clothing. You need to change, a thing you’d be able to do if you’d had the wherewithal to grab your duffel from the car before hijacking Frank’s van last night. Your house is too risky to go back to, but maybe a detour to the bakery wouldn’t hurt. After all, you can’t show up to the police station in your murder outfit, confident as you are that it won’t incriminate you. 

Before you do anything at all, though, you need to find a way around the agreement you just entered into. In order to get back into town, you need to lose the phone so Micro can’t track it and figure out your steps. It’s a problem that really gets your gears turning for a few good minutes, until you remember exactly where you are and what time it is. Sunday evening is precisely when two shipping trucks make their way into town with supplies for three different stores, and the road you inelegantly capsized by is the only one into and out of Apolline. 

A small smile finally curls the edges of your lips, and the invigorating effect of a good idea isn’t far behind. At the very least, there’s an upside to this whole thing. You really aren’t bored anymore. 

.

.

-to be continued-

A/N: A very late update because life stuff has been happening quite a lot lately. So, here we are. This really is the last chapter before a whole lot of chaos and before we meet Frank again. Trust me, he's gonna have a lot to say about these two scheming without his knowledge.👀 And he's definitely gonna rip David a new one for getting duped by her hehe. We'll get there, don't worry. I don't want to spoil anything, but I am excited to get to next chapter's events!

#frank castle x you #frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle #the punisher x reader #frank castle smut #frank castle fanfic

[famousfilmsfan]

Bryan; I developed a theory. Fazbear Dementia. Basically when a human is stuck in an animatronic suit for months or even years the memories of being human and an animatronic begin to blur together. Making them change wildly in behavior, as well as messing with their sense of judgment, causing random mood swings, and drastically messing with their intelligence.

Molten: that’s ridiculous. You have no proof.

Bryan: Really? Afton was in that suit for 30 years. Think about it

Season 1

Molten: Boss? Can i ask something?

Springtrap: What?

Molten: Why do you wanna kill Bryan? I mean he’s an idiot but you can't kill someone just for that.

Springtrap: I have my reasons, they don't concern you

Molten: If i’m gonna be forced to help you, I should at least know why.

Springtrap: I don't have to explain myself to you!

Molten:…you don't remember why you want to kill him don't you?

Springtrap: What? I can so remember why I want to kill him

Molten; Then tell me

Springtrap: That isn't relevant!

Molten: Whatever old man

Springtrap. What was that?!

Molten: Nothing

Molten: why are we wasting time building a saw trap for Bryan? He’s in another state can't you just do your plan now while he isn't here?

Springtrap: No! I need to torture him for being selfish! And teach him a lesson

Molten: You’re going to teach him a lesson in being selfish by making him kill his animatronic to save himself, without any other option?

Springtrap: Yes.

Molten: Why not give him a not selfish option so he can learn a lesson

Springtrap: You’re not the brains of this operation now shut up!

Springtrap; Go away Micheal i’m busy!

Molten: I’m not Micheal.

Springtrap: Whatever.

Molten: Why do we need Jon to betray Bryan? Jon isn't even helping in the slightest.

Springtrap: He is helping us get stuff on Bryan.

Molten; I’m getting stuff on Bryan. I hacked into his computer, his phone everything. Jon isn't doing sh*t I think you just wanted to mentally torment someone for fun and to cause conflict in Bryans friendships.

Springtrap: What did I say about talking back? Besides I can make Jon CEO

Molten: You can do Jack Sh*t. The company thinks you’re dead you have zero input in those decisions.

Springtrap: Says you.

Molten: Says the guy on the phone who laughed when you called and asked to speak to the CEO and wanted to tell him to pack his stuff so some stupid jester guy with no qualifications whatsoever can take over. No offense Jon.

Jon: None taken. I have no idea what that was supposed to accomplish.

Springtrap: Put Bryan in the bathroom filling with gas so we can kill him!

Molten: If you want him dead I can just snap his neck now

Springtrap: Not now. Later

Molten: Why not now? He’s on the floor unconscious.

Springtrap: We have to wait for the perfect time

Molten: now is the perfect time to kill him!

Springtrap: Whatever! Go to your spot over the easily breakable glass over the lava that can easily destroy you.

Molten; Ugh. And you call Bryan Dramatic

Springtrap: What was that?!

Molten: Nothing!

#thefamousfilms #fnaf 6 #mcfnafverse

[moonstruckloverwritings]

Yandere! Five Hargreeves x Reader (general)

Authors note: character is aged up. He may be mentally older but he’s still in a child’s body. So I’m more talking about an au where he didn’t get lost in time and is 18+ at least. Also, basic TW: Yandere themes, kidnapping, obsessive behavior, toxic relationship.

This is definitely one of my more unhinged ones.

Has SCRICT rules. There is no leniency. There is no wiggle room for circumstances. You follow them or bad things happen. That’s it.

Is also in charge of everything. Everything you can think of.

He does the shores, he cooks, he lays out your clothes for in the morning, he brushes your hair, bathes you. Virtually every freedom you have has been taken away.

For example, if you’re at the stage where he can trust you enough that he can take you to town, he’s gonna put you in the passenger seat, adjust the seat to your comfort, and buckle your seat belt for you.

He’s in charge. And you should trust him with that. You should know that he knows everything about you and knows what’s best for you.

All the clothes, soaps, decor, colors etc is all in styles he knows you like. So when he picks out your clothes and helps you into them, they are clothes that you like.

Would not hesitate to off anyone if they were deemed even the slightest bit of a threat to you.

If they were too handsy, flirtations, rude, aggressive, etc. Hell, he’d probably off someone if they looked at you for too long while you’re in town. (Hence the song)

He might even off one of his siblings depending on who it was and how far it went. He’s more lenient with some siblings more than others.

He does love you but, even without the trauma of getting lost in time, we can see from scenes earlier than that, that he probably wouldn’t have been the kind of person that opened up easily.

Understanding and saying his feelings is his hardest challenge.

For example if one of his siblings was getting too close to you, he could physically feel the negative reactions he was dealing with as a result king before he could identify them.

“Am I angry? No there’s a bit of fear in there too.” “It happened when Diego was talking to them.. so that means..”

He’d grab your arm and in a huff pulls you back home immediately as he finds out that it was jealousy.

At times he gets aggravated that he feels those feelings. Even more aggravated when he can’t control them. Not being in control of everything scares him.

So while he loves you, he feels he has to control you and scenarios involving you. If he doesn’t know what will happen then it leaves room for bad things to happen. And he can’t risk that.

So he has a lot of traps outside. Many locks in the door. Lots of plans and back ups plans for if things go sideways.

On top of that, he’s planned out your entire day because he has to be prepared for everything.

And lastly, onto punishments.

I don’t see five being the kind of guy that’s going to put his hands on you in any hurtful way. Though he is violent, he never wanted to be. No matter what version of five there is, either his dad made him be that way or the commission. He’s never been able to escape that as far as we know right now. But even so, he doesn’t like hurting people. He’s never wanted to be that way. I think now though it is more of a defense mechanism than him being in the offensive side. Even if he doesn’t like it, he will still be violent if he needs to. He will still have those guards up and especially when it comes to you.

But as for punishments, he would take away things you enjoyed or lock you in a room and leave you until you’re begging for food or human contact and will let him have control again.

He need you to understand he does these things for you. You need to understand that he knows best.

Tiny bonus scenario! ⬇️

S/O: “Please let me out!”

Five: *continues humming while chopping vegetables up for dinner* They’ll come around to it in a couple days.. just give them some time.

#Spotify #headcanon #x reader #x y/n #x you #yandere #yande.re #obsessiveness #headcanons #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreaves x you #fivehar

[after-witch]

Mahito + "Why haven't you killed me yet?"

Hope this sparks motivation!!

note: yandere, kidnapped reader

"Aw, don't get morbid."

His arms wrap around you, and he easily pulls you flush against him, until you're trapped in his lap.

You don't struggle, because as tempting as it is sometimes to fling yourself headlong into death in the face of all the horrors you've experienced, you still want to live.

If you can call this living, this constant push and pull, between Mahito and yourself.

One of his hands comes up to pet at your head, and he coos even when you flinch.

"Why do humans always say things like that?" He puts on a little pout, and the effect is sickening, considering how well you know him. He puts on a voice, dramatic, shrill, like a damsel in distress from an old movie. "Please, just kill me! Please, I can't take it." He sighs, and his breath gives you goosebumps.

"You're all so weak. You can't even take a bit of fun. Especially the ones without jujutsu, hm?"

He ruffles your hair.

"No offense."

You don't say anything. You bite your cheek instead. Sometimes it's better to be quiet, and let him do the talking. Sometimes you just can't force yourself to play his games without worrying that this will be the day you crack open.

He pokes your cheek when you don't respond, and tilts your head back with his fingers until you can see him looming behind you, a plastic, overwrought pout on his face.

"You're not mad, are you? I couldn't stand it if you were, you know. You're my favorite human!" He seems to think, then, and his pout takes on something of a grin. "Hey, maybe that's why I haven't killed you, huh? Because you're my favorite?"

When you don't respond, he sighs, and that overdrawn pout comes back again.

"Come on, you can be honest with me. I don't mind when humans are honest. Are you mad?"

He's acting, sure, pretending to be all pouty and upset, as if you hold any control, any sway, over him. But there, right there, at the edge of his lips--something. A quirk, a tremble, maybe. Something that you've seen now and then, on his lips, in his eyes, in the hesitation of his hand. Something that is both relieving and worrying all at once. Something that's been keeping you alive, you think. But you don't know what it means or why.

His fingers flick against your cheek again, and you know you're supposed to speak up.

"No, I'm not mad," you say, voice flat. To make up for your lack of voice acting talent, you force your body to move, force yourself to slot against him in a cuddle until he lets out a satisfied little hum and wraps his arms around you again.

He never feels quite right. Never feels quite human. There is always something in the way his skin feels, the texture or the temperature, or some terrible thrumming under his skin that gives his cursed nature away.

It's best not to think about it until you have to.

#yandere mahito #mahito x reader #yandere jjk #yandere interactions #yandere #afterwitch writes #sparky!

[yowyowyaoi]

Zetsu’s Daily Texts from the Akatsuki

From Nagato

You can’t keep eating them without checking to see if we’re using them first.

300 miles? Is that really the closest?!

I can put you with Tobi or Hidan. Take your pick.

Put the letters where they can find them, then stay somewhere hidden to see their reactions.

Keep an eye on them please. No explosions, no sacrifices. Nothing to draw attention.

I’ve been practicing every day. Legs feel stronger.

I’d only risk it if you also want to risk being placed in a gengetsu.

I’m sure I’ll be gone before her. All I ask is she be well taken care of. It’s all that matters.

No. Under no circumstances. I need them all ALIVE and able to work, please.

You can ask but she’ll probably hit you hard enough to REALLY split you in half.

From Kakuzu

Yes well your appetite is proving quite costly.

Find where he’s hiding and I’ll give you a third of his bounty.

I’m not so sure that “intelligence” is a quality I’d associate with any of them.

Actually if you could naturally produce that we could sell bottles and make some money 🤔

Much, much too expensive.

I don’t care if you eat him but wait until I get his heart out first.

I’d rather you ate me; my body won’t be on display for him to entertain Deidara with.

It’s complicated. And by complicated I mean I let a one time physical urge turn into a years-long relationship. 

It’s the 1st. Rent and utilities are due. 

If I didn’t we wouldn’t have *anything*. Be grateful.

I’m not sure if my threads would hold for plant-skin.

Stop losing them for God’s sake each one costs $50 in materials to make!!

I’ll take your word for it. That voice creeps me out.

From Konan

Please don’t ever do that again. Nagato almost had a heart attack. 😡

It’s funny in a shouldn’t be funny way.

Wait you’ve seen him without the mask 👀

No I don’t care if they’re annoying we don’t have the time to replace them now!!

Ask Sasori to take a look. He enjoys a challenge.

I don’t care how easy it was to get, I’m NOT cooking with that kind of “meat” 🤢

No offense but do you even have nails 🤔

I’d rather we didn’t need to pick up and move again unless absolutely necessary.

Since we were children 🥰

I’d kill anyone who tried. With my bare hands.

Kisame may be able to but the rest will need it cooked.

You’re THAT old?! 😵‍💫

Stick to guys. I will remain the only woman in this group.

Can’t you eat them? Aren’t you part Venus fly trap??

From Hidan

Freak.

Then stop watching, weirdo!

Because if you take the body before my praying is finished then the entire ritual is void!!

Not to be gay but yeah I see what he sees. 

Then steal him some damn glasses next time!

But do plants even have dicks? Like is it green? Does it smell like grass? 🤔

He’s such a liar he wanted me since the day we met 😂

I saw you eyeing that cat and so did Itachi.

How do you say “Fuck you” in plant-speak?

They’re not “pink” they’re “rose”, heathen.

Ribs without sauce is like fucking without lube. Like what’s even the point?

If I could convert even one of those fucks I’d become a High Priest for Jashin.

Can’t. Kakuzu’s “withholding my paycheck” until I pay off that bounty of his that I killed. 🙄

So come with us. Everyone’s weird you’ll fit right in.

From Sasori

Elderberry, nightshade, and primrose. For now.

A mouse learns to fear other mice before it even thinks about predators.

Please stop that you gave him nightmares last time and I couldn’t work on my puppets for a whole week 😒

I don’t care as long as it has a big enough space for a lab.

Damn blue eyes trapped me for eternity.

An interesting experiment, certainly.

I have vague memories but that’s all.

You appear to be “friends” so talk to him and tell him to back off. 

Who do you think I am? That freak Orochimaru?!

I don’t buy that stupid act for a second.

If I suggested aloe vera would you find that insulting?

You and I are the least bothersome in terms of eating. I don’t, and you hunt.

I’ll contribute when the expense is relative to me.

From Kisame

So far only Itachi knows about it but the water there is clear and beautiful.

Your way of thinking is truly fascinating.

Of course you’re welcome to join us but you’ve voiced objections before to both tea and sweets.

No, I’ll BURY him myself before I let you eat him.

Crab and shrimp. Especially crab.

I’m aware. His smell is getting weaker and his chakra is shaky.

I admire your patience for it but I don’t do so well in the sun for so long.

Again? Why?? Who attracted attention this time? 😒

I don’t but Samehada seems to.

The battlefield is empty. Care to join me at the buffet? 😋

Between the prayer rituals and the constant bombing I just can’t handle either of them.

Salt is for the weak. Pure fear flavors the meat better than any seasoning. 

From Deidara

You can’t prove that was me, that could have been anyone!

If I’m successful there won’t BE anything left of me to eat so 🤷🏼

Idk you just look gray. Maybe stand in the sun for a while?

Ok we may eat more BUT his food costs more!

Wait is it real hair or like plant stuff 🤔

I didn’t this time he was dancing and he tripped on his cloak like an idiot.

Honestly not until I met Sasori lol 

Omg where?! Riverbanks are always a goldmine of natural clay! 🤩

I get that but I’m just not interested, eternity is so boring.

Low key he goes into this voice sometimes that scares the piss out of me.

Bc it’s weird man it’d be like watching my mother shower or something 😖

Like usual he couldn’t shut up and almost got us killed on the spot 😡

Not unless you want to pick the lice out of my hair afterwards.

From Itachi

Not sure of the exact dynamics but I think it’s second or third cousins.

Maybe it’s best we all just live with our own partners. Too many in one area and eventually someone figures it out.

No he’s as gentle as possible. I just have sensitive skin.

Yes but cabbage is so versatile.

You saw him? Did he look well? 👀

The glasses help some but most everything is still a massive blur.

I tried. Nagato tried. He refuses to give up on the idea.

There is no “before” and there’s no “after0. There’s just NOW.

No I know he ate it because he had the jam smeared all over his collar.

22 doesn’t really interest me.

From Obito

The right arm still twitches if I try to lift too much.

Come on weren’t YOU happy when he died?!

He can’t turn me down forever. Just picture him with the Uchiha fan on his back 😍

Yeah well he’s still my little cousin and I still worry.

I think it scares him a little, he almost walked into a tree that first time I did it on accident.

It’s not excessive; the sugar is literally the only thing pushing me forward right now.

I would bet money that he’s the worst Sensei ever to those kids. No wonder Sasuke was so weak.

The constant money woes are so tedious.

Blind or not his reflexes are unmatched and he could still take me out in one move.

We should have put more emphasis on intelligent and less on “skills”.

You’ve gotta admit the explosions DO liven things up 🤷🏻

What if you ate him and he could still talk from inside of your stomach though? Is that a chance you want to take?

Bonus: From Madara

He stopped responding two years ago he acts like I’m dead.

What? That little shit. 😡

If the blonde is giving him too much of a distraction, dispose of him.

You don’t need to pre-chew my food I’m not a baby bird.

Have you seen my good blanket?

What happened to my slippers?

🍆 I want this. I’m craving this so bad. Please bring it to me.

Tell that boy to come back I need a good bath and a haircut.

Perhaps if you hadn’t recruited so many *brats* you wouldn’t be having such an issue.

Whatever you do, do NOT let them breed.

Did you remember where I stashed my last painting of Hashirama?

If I was younger I could have eliminated the entire group within seconds. They’d never even know what hit them.

Please procure a backscratcher and industrial grade toenail clippers.

Wait until he sleeps and move several large rocks into his room. I guarantee he’ll cry.

First that young lass, then the Hatake boy, now the blonde. He never learns his lesson does he?

What do you mean he cut it?? An Uchiha’s hair is his crown! Tell him to get back here NOW.

I should have chosen Fugaku’s son instead. Likely a lot less crying.

#texting #zetsu #Akatsuki Daily Texts Series #nagato uzumaki #konan #itachi uchiha #kisame hoshigaki #deidara #sasori #kakuzu #hidan #obito uchiha #madara uchiha

[majorbaby]

I don't mean to be rude or offensive, I'm really just curious, are there any m/f ships you really like in mash or other fandoms?

oh that's not offensive in the least. i think what can get grating is when people are rude about "everything being about gay ships all the time" when i've made it pretty clear that there's a lot of gay stuff on my blog and if someone doesn't like it they can avoid me pretty easily.

so, a few things: 1) i'm relatively new to shipping and it doesn't rank high for me amongst things that draw me into a narrative or fandom - i am not dedicated to many ships in general.

2) even if i can logically 'see' a ship, i like to write smut so if i'm not turned on by the idea of these people fucking then i won't have more than a passing interest in them as a ship. i can be into a fic that uses sex to explore a dynamic without being into the sex itself, but it's not where the majority of my time is spent. that said, i've been in this MASH box so long I've produced fic i would've never dreamed of writing when i first started the show. see: infinite monkey theorum for why that might be lol.

in general, i wouldn’t say gender affects what appeals to me in a ship or a character. i like traphawk because of the nature of their relationship, not specifically because theyre both men, although in their case, the two of them being each other’s non trad partners is relevant to the anti-establishmentarian themes of the show. I dont think it would be half as effective, and therefore as impactful on me, if they were a het ship. their joint commitment to being little shits is why i love them so much together.

ANYWAY to actually answer your question: yes

within MASH i'm really into: margaret/trapper, ginger/trapper, almost any threesome with hawk/trap + a lady friend, hawkeye/kyungsoon

passing interest in: trapper/louise, hawkeye/margaret, hawkeye/bigelowe, hawkeye/carlye, klinger/soon lee, frank/margaret, ginger/oliver

highly situational crackships: trapper/carlye, BJ/aggie, hawkeye/kellye, trapper/kellye, hawkeye/peg hunnicutt

other het ships i'm into to varying degrees from very popular fandoms: katara/zuko (atla), rose/nine (dw), ten/martha (dw), ten/rose (dw), roy/riza (fma), batman/wonder woman (dc comics), nightwing/batgirl (dc comics), ollie/dinah (dc comics), rogue/gambit (marvel comics), han/leia (star wars)

... altho now that i think of it, the caveat with most of these is that with the exception of roy/riza, i don't think i endgame ship any of these. i won't not read a fic that implies they're endgame, i just don't think i really "OTP" any of these, I just enjoy them for various reasons.

honourable mention: mulder/scully - have not seen the x-files but i believe in them.

#replies

[twopoppies]

Hi Gina. I know the NYT article shames Harry for being in the closet but I'll take that any day over an article like Dan Wootton's lol. The shaming isn't that bad because it might make readers sympathize with him.

Hi love. I'm so grateful for anyone looking deeper at what's going on for him. And I'm very happy that the author opened the door to discussing the possibility of the closet insofar as Harry is concerned.

In private, Mr. Styles could, of course, claim any — or many — of a spectrum of gender identities and sexual orientations. But the issue at hand is that Mr. Styles asks us to revel in his performance without giving us the key with which to unlock that performance’s true meaning. It’s worth asking why his door is locked.

If Mr. Styles contends with a closet, it was built by a homophobic culture, not any action of his own. Accusing him of queerbaiting his fans works like a kind of trap; he can only really deny the accusations by coming out and identifying himself in a way that would not be wholeheartedly accepted by the public.

So consider this for a moment. Is it really so inconceivable that one of the most famous people in the world could be trapped in the same closet as you or me?

As a queer person, it’s impossible for me to look at Mr. Styles’s use of our symbols with such dexterity, consistency and precision and not see those symbols for what they surely must be — evidence that he is one of us. 

But I'm a little frustrated that she seems to both say we should hold an empathetic understanding that he may be in the closet, but in the next breath admonishes him

In displaying queer symbols as he does, Mr. Styles may indeed be navigating a culture and its closet as best he can. But he also sends young, questioning fans a message that it’s acceptable, perhaps even advisable, to reject the Harvey Milk mantra that has guided so many in the L.G.B.T.Q. community in our struggle for collective freedom: “Every Gay person must come out.”

[...]

If our community seeks true liberation, Mr. Styles’s “don’t ask, don’t tell” queerness must not be something to which we aspire. It should instead be something that we mourn.

Coming out can be an act of political resistance, but it’s also a celebration. We exclaim to the world: “I’m here! I’m queer! You must accept me!” Maybe that isn’t always a palatable, salable message, but if it is offensive to those who hate us, we must shout it.

No matter how he identifies, if Mr. Styles wishes to dance with our symbols, he would do well to pay more attention to their politics, regardless of whether he dreams with us of liberation.

I can't expect someone who isn't in the fandom to truly understand how complex it is to navigate a closet you were forced into at 16, in an aggressively homophobic industry you are still a part of at 28, and as your music label's highest grossing artist. But it feels just a bit like she's doing exactly what she's accusing Harry of doing: making a statement, but covering her ass at the same time.

Full article here

#harry's sexuality #queerbaiting #ny times #rolling stone 22 #closeting #music industry

[fanficfanattic]

For word Wednesday-

Word, ask, answer, or accept

I’ve got snippets for each word below the cut.

Word:

‘Shit’ he thinks as that registers. He hasn’t moved this fast in a while. But he can’t feel his knee, can’t feel the tightness in his chest. Because the second the door to the room is open he can hear that the screaming has stopped but now Jamie is just saying “no no no” over and over.

No one is in the room when Roy bursts in, something he didn’t even realize he was worried about until the relief swamped his body. It was short lived, though, because Jamie was trapped in whatever nightmare had its grip on him. He didn’t wake at Roy’s extremely loud entrance.

“Said no. Said no,” is somehow worse than just the single word had been. Is worse than the screams had been. But worse by far are the whimpers that are now scraping from his throat now that he isn’t talking anymore.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Roy allows himself that moment before pushing himself into action. He pulls from the well he uses with Phoebe. Because a screaming child is a screaming child. And whatever torture Tartt’s brain is putting him through is bad.

Ask:

He ignored the silence of the dressing room, didn’t let his brain take in what was probably a sea of stunned faces, and he continued his favored behavior of pretending Ted Lasso didn’t even exist.

His focus was 70% on the girl, 10% on her mum, and 20% on himself because he could be prone to sort of turning whispy as a human if he let himself get too distracted. Best to always know where his body was and what his hands were up to on good days. And a day where Roy Kent had already body checked him was not a good one.

Still, now that the girl’s mum was walking over to them, he could see the way her stride reflected her brother’s. Or, he had no idea who was older, maybe Roy’s stride reflected hers. Either way, now that he knew, he couldn’t unsee it. And he was developing a fear that he’d idly ask Roy something about her in the future and end up murdered for it.

That was a problem for future Jamie, though.

Answer: two snippets that are both from the same fic as this one

“I suspect I know the answer but have any of you heard from Jamie?” Ted had been upset at the Watford FC half to see Jamie had actually left. Someone explained that was a fineable offense, which didn’t make much sense to Ted. They were all rich. But he had planned to talk to Jamie about it during today’s practice. Except he didn’t show up.

“The fucking pre-madonna is probably trying to get back at you for benching him.” Roy grunted in annoyance to punctuate the end of his sentence.

+

Colin whispers to Isaac, “Ohhh Jamie is fucked,” and has a quiet laugh. Not quiet enough, as Ted hears it and orders them both to do a lap. No one else cracks a joke the rest of the day. They barely survive training. While everyone blames Jamie for Ted’s shitty mood, without him there it manages to remain internal. Thankfully. No one wants to miss lunch to run punishment laps.

On the way in, the only person willing to be anywhere near Ted and Beard is Roy. The lads are in front of him, with the coaches behind, and Roy would not admit on pain of death that he was eavesdropping.

“I told Rebecca that this isn’t something that I ever have or ever will find acceptable. So I’ll be joining her for lunch to discuss options.”

“Options?” Beards quiet question still managed to be heard by Roy.

“I still don’t fully know how loans work. But we cancel it from our end, right?” Ted’s voice couldn’t properly be described as venomous, but it was sharper than Roy had ever heard it. Sure, he had wanted to murder Tartt, but he couldn’t be the only reason Ted was so on edge.

“Yes, but maybe-“

“Unacceptable means not accepting it, Coach.”

Which was an extreme that Roy wasn’t aware Lasso was capable of being. He was a little impressed, and under almost any other circumstance he’d enjoy Tartt reaping what he’s sown. But this didn’t feel like a Tartt move. He wasn’t here to enjoy the chaos he was creating. And for all his faults he was a hard worker. He trained like every day was a match day.

Being ahead of them meant Roy had only a few extra seconds to see Rebecca, and Keeley -who was crying- with the entire dressing room silent. Either because of Rebecca, a crying Keeley, or both.

“Hey boss, you ready to-“ but Rebecca interrupted him smoothly.

“Coach Lasso, I looked into what might be delaying Jamie, as you asked, and found out it’s because he’s in hospital.”

He looked gobsmacked and Roy didn’t know if it was because Rebecca was making it appear as though he’d been concerned for Jamie rather than pissed, that he was injured in some way, or if he didn’t understand ‘in hospital’ as opposed to the America’s ‘in the hospital’. He wasn’t even going to try. Instead he focused on the person he actually cared about.

“You okay, Keeley?”

“No, not really.”

“Oh.” He hadn’t planned a follow up for whatever she was going to answer and none came to him with that.

“It’s being reported now, but only because The Sun apparently has someone recording police scanner communications…”

Accept:

The rest of the afternoon went normally. Except while going over his plan in his head, again, he thought of something new to consider. He needed to decide if he should drive himself or get an uber, so looked up the address, only to realize it was for a secondhand charity shop.

He told himself that maybe the listing hadn’t updated, and tried to look that up too. Then realized it would be easier to call the number to see if it got answered and what they’d say the address were.

It was still a second hand charity shop. And that fucking hurt, because he’d never done that to none of them. He was a prick to their faces.

Once he stopped himself from spinning out at that, he had to piece through what his response should be. Figured that just pretending like he forgot wasn’t the best choice. Cause that would make it obvious he knew he was tricked or, worse, that he had never intended to go at all. They’d tell Ted he was being a prick again.

But oh fuck, Ted said he wanted to hear about it. And Ted is exactly the kind of fake tv dad that would walk in the next day and be like “hey, son, did you and your buddies have fun?”

Jamie calls him half back into a panic to ask that he don’t say anything cause then they’d know that they had (kind of) successfully pranked him. That he had actually believed they’d started to accept him.

Ted starts in with “That doesn’t sound like a prank, it sounds cruel-“ but Jamie cuts him off. He can’t deal with that conversation right now. Maybe never.

“I know I weren’t good to them, so they’re still mad. And if they’re still mad, that’s on me, I’ll keep working at it. I’m not trying to get no one in trouble. Just. Don’t make it weird, please?”

And on the one hand, that is a mature thing for Jamie to realize, but Ted had been upset with Jamie when he was being mean. It isn’t any more acceptable for others to be mean now. But in the end, Ted does agree to not make it weird.

Unfortunately, Ted is a deeply weird person.

#jamie tartt #roy kent #keeley jones #rebecca welton #ted lasso #coach beard #willis beard #phoebe kent #phoebe o'sullivan #roy’s sister #dr. o’sullivan #colin hughes #isaac mcadoo #james tartt sr #afc richmond players #nightmares #panic attack #panic attacks #sleep references to amsterdam #abuse #physical violence #bullying

[alagaesia-headcanons]

A snippet from my draft of Clear Horizons! I think I might post a handful of these over the next week or two

...

Thorn waits above the city while Murtagh traverses the caves until he can drop out onto the roof of the old citadel and quickly make his way in. The place is abandoned and desolate, a result of the magical miasma generated by Galbatorix’s suicidal spell. But his wards protect him as he makes his way; the structural damage makes it challenging, but he manages. By some very uncharacteristic miracle, his quarters are largely unscathed. To his discomfort, it looks as though someone has rifled through things, but he can’t tell if much is missing. Murtagh collects a small assortment of little practicalities, extra clothes, pens, writing tools and as much paper as he can find, a large stack of sheet music he’d penned back before, and the violin stowed under the bed. He resolves to come back eventually and hunt down any other instruments he can find, bemoaning that he doesn’t have the means to steal a piano. He also shamelessly takes a very hefty sum of money, considering it the damages owed for the shit he went through.

They don’t stay long. Murtagh returns to Thorn and spends a while cleaning his pilfered bounty of the magic contamination. He replaces the violin’s broken E string and tunes it, but the bizarre echoes rebounding through the caves make Thorn wrinkle his nose with a huff, so he waits until later to play. After that, they sit together at the edge of an opening and watch the city, as they did before. Murtagh gazes down at the new castle and thinks of Nasuada. He will come back and meet with her, he decides, but not now. They watch until nightfall, then leave before dawn the next morning.

They return to their routine after that. Murtagh constructs a little ramshackle building for storage more than anything. I thought you told your brother you were going to build a huge castle, Thorn mocks as he struggles with the construction.

“Oh fuck you, you know I’m too stupid to manage that.” Thorn snorts a plume of smoke.

In that and many other little ways, the wild, northern expanses become a sort of home. Murtagh’s constant wanderings through valleys and around mountains have started to leave faint trails along the routes he favors most. Snow doesn’t cling so long to the clearing where Thorn sleeps, where the heat of his body has warmed layers of the earth. They fit into this place without questioning their belonging or fearing rejection, for nature will always allow for anything determined to survive. Even so, the isolated peace of their surroundings does not always lend them peace of mind.

The cold shadow cast by the glow of dawn hidden away behind the mountain where they had slept the night reminds Murtagh of the same dark cast the overhang draped over Uru’baen’s citadel in all but late afternoon. Thorn shifts uncomfortably at the observation; he had slept very uneasily. This shade is much more welcoming and soothing than it was there, Murtagh says to him, hoping to assert more appreciation of the present than resentment of the past.

It doesn’t work. Anything is better than the way things were there, Thorn replies bitterly. That place was a prison, where even the earth itself pinned us in. You knew that to begin with; you had already lived so long trapped in the dark shadow of Uru’baen before you escaped in search of freedom. The dragon turns away to look at the backlit silhouette of the mountain. ...Freedom that I took from you.

Murtagh can’t restrain a tight sigh. Rearranging himself stiffly, he braces for the emotional toil awaiting them, an effort he might usually worry would cause offense, but this guilt has grown so cyclical that Thorn himself is preparing himself with even greater exasperation. It doesn’t stop the guilt from seeping up through their cracks anyway. Murtagh rubs his eyes. “You know I don’t feel that way, Thorn.”

...

[I'll update this post with a link here when the fic is published ❤]

#eragon #inheritance cycle #murtagh #ic thorn #clear horizons chatter #my writing #exploring their relationship has been a very interesting task #thorns character arc has been the trickiest but im making progress on it

[briarpatch-kids]

hEDS anon from before. I think you are right that what happened was we (reasonably) assumed two different types of symptom progression from that person saying they're "losing their ability to walk."

If your assumption was right you might be saving their life. My assumption made it look like you were taking a symptom I personally experience and saying "People with your illness don't have this, period."

Which happens to hEDS people a lot and has a serious impact on our ability to seek care. I'm sorry for getting into it. I'm jumpy because I've seen illness faker communities, including self-identified healthcare providers, swarm people with hEDS and armchair-diagnose them with Munchausens by internet just for posting a selfie in a wheelchair. Again, that's not what you were doing, it just raised red flags for me because we were getting two different things from that post. I apologize.

I wanted to clarify this point because when I say we're not taken seriously, THAT is what I mean—that healthcare providers themselves will gleefully take part in communities like that, and then go to work and be the deciding factor in whether or not somebody gets a diagnosis or a prescription or a referral or a procedure that they desperately need.

I don't have an issue with people rightfully pointing out that hEDS is not the most debilitating illness in the world, and I do understand now that that's all you were doing.

Is there a term you generally prefer people to use? I'm kind of in the same boat as that other anon. I don't really know how I should for instance quickly get across "my knees and ankles are so unstable that they will randomly drop me and every time I put weight on them that instability gets permanently a little worse, which in addition to pain and comorbid POTS means I'm walking less and less, can't leave my home without a wheelchair, and spend most of my time trapped in bed or on the couch, and I don't have access to knowledgeable providers who could prescribe me appropriate PT or orthoses that I can't afford without insurance, so this is unlikely to resolve or even stop progressing any time soon," other than "I'm losing my ability to walk."

I don't mean that in a smartass way. I do understand there's an important distinction between "This thing is hard/painful/exhausting/inconsistent" and "This thing is impossible" but I'm not sure where that distinction is or how to encapsulate it in words.

Obviously that's not your job either, I just wondered if you did know of any better terminology.

Accusing people of being into that illness fakers shit because they said you might be misdiagnosed is not okay. That's basically telling every other disabled person that I'm not safe to be around, which is not true and frankly extremely angering. I'm ALSO harmed by them as an online disabled person with very visible disability aids and I very much take offense at even being compared to them when I was trying to save your life. Not everyone with concerns about EDS is a large reddit group posting about which disabled person took a shit and what conspiracy theory they have on it. Get over yourself holy shit, I'm not illness fakers.

Also, you tell them the issue you're having. "My joints are unstable and causing problems and pain, I need PT" Sensationalized phrases like "I'm losing the ability to walk" even if you ARE aren't going to get you anywhere.

[kyousystem]

Advanced-Level Backgammon: An Outsider's Guide - Problem #2

Problem #2

White opted to run one of their back men with an opening 64. Black missed the blot but nevertheless has a strong roll: 33. How can Black make the best use of it?

Our list of potential moves includes:

13/7(2), making Black's bar point.

24/18(2), bringing both of Black's back men up to White's bar point.

13/10(2) 6/3(2), making two points on Black's side of the board to antagonize White's second back man.

24/21(2) 8/5(2), making an anchor on the 21-point (the Silver Point, as I call it) as well as making the 5-point.

24/21(2) 6/3(2), anchoring on the Silver Point and developing Black's inner board with the 3-point.

24/21(2) 13/10(2), anchoring on the Silver Point and making the 10-point in Black's outer board.

8/5(2) 6/3(2), closing two of Black's inner board points in anticipation of making a hit.

13/7(2), on its face, looks like the natural choice for this roll, and many players might be tempted to play it automatically. It gives Black an immediate 3-prime and blocks White's second back checker, not to mention bringing a total of 10 checkers onto Black's side of the board, giving them strong attacking potential. Indeed, the main weaknesses of this play are less about what it does and much more about what it doesn't do that it could (and should):

It doesn't give Black an advanced anchor, meaning White can still freely bring down builders (including their escaped back man) to develop their board.

It doesn't close any points in Black's inner board, weakening Black's attacking prospects: even if Black managed to hit a builder next roll, for example, White would almost certainly re-enter immediately.

It doesn't actually make a good priming structure, as the 3-prime built by this roll is fairly inflexible and will be difficult to extend in the next few turns without either slotting (risky), stripping the midpoint (very undesirable), or rolling lucky doubles (which you should never bank on).

In addition, with White's second back man still sitting on the ace-point, the only way Black can point on White's head is by breaking the bar point, leaving Black vulnerable to return shots and taking two checkers out of play; and needless to say, hitting loose isn't an effective strategy with only one inner board point closed. Ultimately, this move is deceptive in its appeal and is something of a newbie trap, so we would do well to avoid it.

24/18(2) also seems like a natural, reasonable reply—since White has almost escaped one of their back men, Black can "mirror" them by bringing out their own back men—but it's too passive, missing the valuable opportunity presented by this roll. Specifically, in choosing to run, White has foregone developing their board, which means Black has a chance to get a powerful lead in development. Making this move, however, does not accomplish that goal: Although White's bar point isn't necessarily a bad point to hold, there are once again other points Black could make instead that are more immediately useful and don't give White an opening to consolidate their position without falling behind. For that matter, with White now having only one checker in the back compared to Black's two, Black should pivot to a more offensive game plan (i.e. attacking or priming) to prevent White from escaping the second one, thus making this defensive move yet more ill-advised for this position.

13/10(2) 6/3(2) is a better development move, unstacking the heavy 6-point & midpoint and creating new points in both the inner and outer boards in the process. Although this move has the right idea in that Black should play more offensively, it tries to be both an attacking play and a priming play at the same time, and ends up being a weak choice for either strategy. In more concrete terms, holding the 10-point gives Black's position more of a blocking character, as that point is chiefly useful for building primes, but the 3-point and 10-point are too far apart to be used in the same prime and thus don't work well together. Conversely, making the 3-point, a point relatively deep in the inner board, is a good start for an attacking position, but the checkers on the 8-point and 10-point are too far away to be used in conjunction with the 6-point's spare to attack White effectively, meaning Black would have to either hit loose (despite only having two inner board points closed) or spend a few turns bringing in more checkers (giving White ample opportunity to escape). Additionally, it leaves White's outer board largely uncontested, making it easy for them to bring down builders and develop their position, and most likely safety their escaped back man in the process.

24/21(2) 8/5(2) is yet more promising, giving Black a valuable advanced anchor on the Silver Point while also making the ever-important 5-point. Black's anchor puts pressure on the outer board, complicating White's plans to develop their position by threatening to hit any builders they might bring down. Black had to give up the 8-point to make the 5-point, however, leaving them with a blot on the 8-point and a rather imbalanced distribution of checkers elsewhere. It'll take a few rolls before Black can use this position to launch a solid offense, during which time White could very well escape their second back man, possibly hitting Black's blot along the way (6 rolls hit: 61, 52, 43; 16.7% chance of hitting).

24/21(3) 6/3(2) improves even further upon the previous candidates, again grabbing the Silver Point but making the 3-point rather than the 5-point. The 3-point is considerably less valuable overall—it's harder to use for priming compared to the 5-point, 4-point, or bar point, for one—but it's just as useful as any other inner board point when it comes to attacking! Moreover, Black can make the 3-point without having to give up another point in the process, instead unstacking the heavy 6-point and ending up with a better checker distribution afterward. With that being said, it'll take time to bring in the extra men needed to start an attack or to fill in the sizable gaps in Black's structure, once again giving White an opening; so although this is a reasonable play (particularly if Black is looking to play safely), it'd be best to examine the remaining moves in the list.

24/21(2) 13/10(2) is the strongest and most versatile entry in this series of "anchor and unstack" plays. Unlike the 5-point and 3-point plays, making the 10-point has no real drawbacks, giving Black a strong outer board point that they can use for priming and attacking alike! Additionally, Black having the 10-point makes it that much more difficult for White to escape the other back man, since it both blocks the checker's movement and gives Black another number with which to hit should White bring their man forward. Between the offensive potential of the 10-point and the security & control offered by the advanced anchor, this is a very strong play indeed, doubly so if Black is looking to play safe!

8/5(2) 6/3(2) cranks the aggression up to 11, immediately closing two inner board points! This play may seem questionable in light of some of the points discussed above, such as wanting to control White's outer board, giving up the 8-point for the 5-point, and White potentially hitting Black's blot while escaping, but this play manages to compensate for all of these factors:

Black having three inner board points closed to White's one means that White MUST play passively, even without Black sitting on the Silver Point. After all, if Black gets a hit in the next few rolls and White dances (9 rolls fail to enter: 66, 65, 63, 55, 53, 33; 25% chance to stay out), Black can double White out.

Giving up the 8-point is unfortunate, but the strength of closing the inner board points (and making most of a 4-prime in the process) more than balances things out, not to mention that the leftover blot is still useful as a builder for the 4-point or bar point.

Having the 3-point closed as well as the 5-point cuts the number of shots White has at the blot from 6 (61, 52, 43; 16.7% chance to hit) to 4 (61, 43; 11.1% chance to hit), and furthermore White would be tempted to use one of those rolls elsewhere (i.e. make their 10-point with 43)—not to mention the risk to White should they hit loose in Black's outer board without safetying the other blot (leaving 16 shots for Black, or a 44.4% chance to hit).

Excepting match scenarios where Black wants to avoid risk as much as possible (e.g. DMP or with a big lead in score), this is the strongest choice.

Answer

8/5(2) 6/3(2) is the best move overall, though 24/21(2) 13/10(2) is also acceptable.

24/21(2) 13/10(2) is the best move if Black is well ahead in the match, though 24/21(2) 6/3(2) is also acceptable.

8/5(2) 6/3(2) is the best move if White is well ahead in the match.

24/21(2) 13/10(2), 24/21(2) 6/3(2), and 8/5(2) 6/3(2) are all strong at DMP.

Key points

Don't play passively during the opening.

Making your bar point is not always a good play.

Don't underestimate the power of outer board points.

If your opponent runs in the opening, build your board.

Holding an advanced anchor hinders your opponent's development.

Rollouts

Money game:

7-point match, score 0-0:

7-point match, score 5-0 (Black leading):

7-point match, score 0-5 (White leading):

7-point match, score 6-6 (DMP):

#backgammon #outsider's guide