#if tumblr fucks up the order of these tags ill scream

[dhmis-autism]

i DID put all my character playlists on spotify recently so i could get real autistic about those today if i want hmmmmmmm

#did it for a friend and GOT SO MAD #bc the 13 min extended version of a song i had on yellows playlist straight up doesnt exist on spotify and its fucked up #i also wanted to do custom lil icons for their playlists but aaah.. theyre very short #theyre all like 20 mins or under lol. #so maybe not worth it #BUT LIKE. ive talked about this i get insane about character playlists. last ones i did were years in the making #like i need every line and every lyric to fit or ill lose it and it has to be in a specific order or ill start screaming #IM. listen. listen the url is no joke. #if i dont have these playlists meticulously in a specific order i will start screaming crying ect #because theres like. the theme of the overall playlist but also the themes interweaving between two different songs and how they reflect on #ok i shall. stop that now. #tumblr tags were like girl shut up #my dhmis postings

[luckyfinch]

The Magnificent Sans’ Guide to Serving Your New Evil Boss (MASTER POST)

• click THIS for the AO3 story

• cross-posted only on tumblr and ao3

• i will be using the tag #swap’s magnificent evil guide for posts related to this fic! if anyone wants to post fan content/etc relating to it pls use this tag so i can see :3

creds to @/darkxsoulzyx ‘s “if blue joined the bad sanses” comics for the inspo of this fic; go check them out!!!!!

⚠️⚠️ STORY WARNINGS: violence, food issues, implied suicidal ideation, character death, implied/referenced abusive behavior(s), references to depression, dissociation, self destructive behavior(s), breakdowns, mental illness, LOTS of mental illness, and potentially more. ⚠️⚠️ do not purposely trigger yourself. don’t like, don’t read 🤝

Chapter List

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 1: Beginning

Screams rang out in the distance, snow blowing down onto the small town heavily. Feet thudded against the snow covered ground, briefly leaving behind footprints before the roaring snow quickly covered their tracks. Despite the unusually harsh snow, a large, messy fight raged on between a group of skeleton monsters.

“fuck!” Killer shouted out in surprise, just barely not getting scorched to dust by a large, dark Gaster Blaster. He regained his footing quickly, another knife dropping from his sleeve into his hand as he turned and swung at the fast approaching Ink. The shorter skeleton leaned out of the way, the handle of his giant paint brush coming up and hitting Killer square in the jaw. His head flew back, and he struggled to keep his balance, forcing himself to push through the shock. Ink reacted faster, flipping his brush around and splashing Killer’s torso with paint in one swift move. The purple paint hardened in milliseconds, effectively restraining him and pinning his arms to his chest at an awkward angle. He fell back onto the ground with a grunt, already dreading the humiliation he’d feel for this when they all got back to the castle. 

He turned his head, shuddering at the feeling of snow under his skull, and saw Ink already rejoining Dream and targeting Nightmare. Killer’s small, muted spike of anxiety quickly washed away as he saw Cross at Nightmare’s side, though he wondered where Horror and Dust were, if not with Nightmare. The sounds of a blaster going off made him roll over towards the direction of the noise, and he saw a flash of blue before hearing a shouted curse, his focus zoning in on Dust, who was now clutching his left arm and standing stiffly off to the side. Horror jumped in front of his friend, deflecting a pointed bone with his axe. 

Cross’ voice rose against the sounds of battle and screams of the AU’s monsters, the words not exactly reaching Killer, and just a moment later Killer was being hoisted up off the snowy ground by a large, dark tentacle. In his peripheral vision, he saw horror clashing with Swap, the two fighting up close. At Nightmare’s barked orders to retreat, he quickly removed himself from the fight and hurried over to the rest of the gang, a hand clasping Dust’s shoulder just before they were all brought through the portal Nightmare had made.

Nightmare stepped through into a hallway of his castle, Killer held a foot or two from the ground by one of his tentacles. Cross came right behind him, followed by Horror and Dust, before he closed the portal and stepped into the infirmary. It was fairly spacious, a few small beds each with one or two pillows and a thin blanket. It held their general medical supplies, and so was used often enough. Killer was set into the bed closest to the door, though he quickly sat up and swung his feet off the mattress, ignoring his boss’ half-hearted glare before his attention went to Dust. 

“What happened?” Nightmare asked, reaching out a hand for Dust’s arm, which he still clutched tightly to his chest. Dust made a slight face, but still shakily held the arm out without complaint. Nightmare rolled up the sleeve, pausing briefly at Dust’s small wince, and looked over the injury. His left forearm had a not so clean break, looking a bit splintered even. 

Dust’s face contorted into something of a scowl, his words biting. “that blue bastard’s stupid hammer.” He glanced down at his arm. One of Nightmare’s tentacles slowly came up and wrapped around the broken bones, squeezing slightly.

As nightmare’s healing started to take effect, Killer’s restraints slackened and fell to the ground. He stood, stretching his arms and wincing at the soreness in his jaw. It wasn’t bad at all, though he thought about asking Cross to heal it later. Zoning back into the present, he caught the end of Nightmare telling Dust not to mess with his arm for a few days, he thinks. 

“I healed the worst of it, but you’ll have to wrap it and wear a splint for a bit until it heals fully, or it could get worse.” Horror was already digging through drawers for a splint, Nightmare taking the quickly offered bandages from Cross and beginning to wrap Dust’s now less broken arm. Dust groaned, annoyed, but continued to show no outward resistance.

“don’t worry dusty, we’ll give baby blue a nice ‘ol matching break next time we see him.” Killer’s shoulders shook lightly with silent laughter.

***

“I Said, ‘I Want To Join Your Gang.’”

Swap remained stone-faced, an odd determination lingering in his gaze. Killer, having asked him to repeat himself three times, still wanted to ask again just to be sure he wasn’t crazy—well, more crazy than normal. He’d been on sent to scope out some random AU with Cross, and suddenly, Swap was just a foot away, stating that—

“....could you repeat that one last time, please? just so i’m clear.”

Swap’s face twitched, and his fits clenched at his sides. “I Want You To Take Me To Nightmare. I Refuse To Repeat Myself Anymore.”

Killer just couldn’t believe it. Swap had somehow sought them out, to ask to join them. This has to be a trick. “...uh, nice try, baby blue. you can’t get directions to the castle that easily.” He snickered. Cross remained silent beside him, though he usually didn’t say much. Killer’s words seemed to annoy Swap further.

“Take Me To Nightmare, Bring Him Here, I DON’T CARE! But I Want To Speak To Him. Preferably Soon.” The blue-clad skeleton summoned his giant Gaster blaster hammer suddenly, dropping it upside down onto the ground, a hand on the handle threateningly. Killer is reminded of Dust’s arm injury.

Cross tugs on Killer’s sleeve, making him glance over. “I’ll get Night. Stay here.” 

Before he can respond, before he can ask ‘what the fuck? You believe this guy?,’ Cross has teleported away. He thinks he hears Swap mutter a “finally” under his breath. The two stand in silence, not looking at each other directly.

…

The silence is unbearable. Killer considers just.. leaving. Or maybe fighting. Maybe he’d break one of his arms, see how he likes that. He looks back to Swap, startled to see him full-on staring at him.

“It’s A Bit Unnerving To Not Be Able To See Where You’re Looking.��� 

Killer hums under his breath in place of responding verbally, taking the rare moment to look over the other. He wouldn’t usually think about Swap’s body language or his appearance or anything, with them fighting, though now that they were just standing around, he noticed Swap’s stiff posture, and the way his voice seemed just a tad strained. He seemed oddly tired, even if Killer knew he’d still be up to defend himself if needed. Now that he’d taken a moment to really look, he couldn’t stop noticing the little things about him that he usually wouldn’t think twice about.

“How Long Will He Be?” Swap seemed tenser, and Killer realized his grip on his hammer had tightened. He seemed to be leaning against it a bit.

Killer didn’t know if he meant Nightmare or Cross, so he didn’t answer. Instead, he asked, “when’s the last time you slept?” 

Swap flinched at the question, then scowled. “I Can Fight You If Needed, Tired Or Not.”

“didn’t answer the question.”

“None Of Your Business.”

Hmm. “if you’re ‘joining’ the gang, it actually is my business.”

Swap, not catching the hint of sarcasm in his words, seemed conflicted. “... forty-nine..? Eh-- Fifty Hours Ago.” He nodded to himself.

Killer winced. “.....riiight. okay.” Maybe he had really bad insomnia, like Dust. He certainly had no room to judge the other for something like that.

The two skeletons’ attention turned suddenly to a flash of black to the side, a portal opening an inch or two from the ground. Cross emerged from the inky-looking portal first, and then Nightmare. Swap straightened up immediately.

“Swap. Cross has told me you wish to join us.” Nightmare stared at him expectantly. Swap nodded. “Care to explain?”

“I Refuse To Aid Ink Or Dream Any Longer. I Told Them So, Though I Know They Think I’m Just.. ‘Having A Fit’ Again. That I’ll Be Back Soon Enough.” His fists shook at his sides, eyes narrowed at the ground. “I Will Not. I Figured Joining You Would… Well. I Am Willing To Do Whatever It Takes To Earn Your Trust, To Join You.” Swap met Nightmare’s gaze.

“How do I know you aren’t going to go running back to my brother?”

“I Doubt That Working For You Will Be Worse.”

“Why?”

Swap spared a glance at Cross, then looked back to the ground. “You Have Four Loyal Followers Already. I Do Not Think Any Of Them, Most Especially Cross, Would Act In Such Ways If You Did Not Treat Them Fair Enough.”

Nightmare was silent for a few moments. His tentacles twitched behind him as he stared unblinkingly at Swap, deep in thought. Sweat beaded on the back of Swap’s skull.

Finally, He broke eye contact and looked over to Killer, then to Cross. The three seemed to have some kind of silent conversation before the corrupted skeleton turned back to Swap and nodded. “Fine. I’ll see how this goes. I must speak to the others first, of course, and you must prove your loyalty to me before you are truly accepted.”

Swap’s shoulders sagged in relief, and he bowed his head to Nightmare. “Thank You. I Will Do My Best.”

Nightmare blinked, then turned back to the portal and stepped through without another word. Killer glanced at Swap briefly before hurrying close after. 

Cross went to enter as well, but paused and turned back to Swap. He stared a moment, then held out a hand, a small smile on his face. “You coming?” 

He looks at Cross’ outstretched hand, a matching smile hesitantly growing on his own face. He reaches out, letting Cross pull him through the murky portal. 

///

next >

#ao3 fanfic #fanfic #undertale #utmv au #swap sans #swap joins the bad sanses #swap’s magnificent evil guide

[unhealthyfanobsession]

I’ve been very behind on Tumblr so I just scrolled the Nessian tag and went through all those weird haters/ haters pretending they are Nessian fans while absolutely bashing Nesta and here’s a summary of my reactions:

“Feysand did what they had to and we’re totally in the right about Nesta!”: It is your right to be incorrect.

“Nesta doesn’t deserve Cassian”: boring, revisionist, get a new argument.

“Even Nesta knows she fucked up telling Feyre about the baby. She deserved that hike.”: it’s called mental illness, sweetie.

“Nesta had to get locked in the house in order to get better. It was the only option and she should be more grateful.”: Boooooo. Bad logic. Hate it. Old news.

“Nessian’s first child should be a boy.” NOW JUST WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK FUCK FUCK IS GOING ON HERE ON THIS DAY?! EXCUSE ME WHAT?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU! THIS IS SACRILEGE! HAVE YOU EVEN READ THE FUCKING SERIES? I N S A N E! WRONG! SO WRONG I WANT TO SCREAM!

#nessian #nesta archeron #nessian fanfiction #cassian #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #nesta and cassian #a court of silver flames

[axeylotl]

I was bored and came up with D&D races/classes for the main 5 characters

Henry: Half elf Rouge

Ellie: Fire genasi Ranger

Charles: Eagle aarakocra Paladin

Reginald: Drow Wizard

RHM: Goliath Fighter (in reborn form, he's a ghost possessing an automaton)

#thsc #henry stickmin #ellie rose #charles calvin #reginald copperbottom #rhm #maybe ill draw them someday #also I've never actually played dnd aside from one session and a shitty homebrew i made that was Not Good so don't expect me to have any #idea as to how their stats n stuff would be. wtf is a paladin oath i dont care i just couldnt find a better class for charles #also i REALLY wanted reborn to be a litch but i just couldn't justify it cuz he's not even a little bit magical #tbh the automaton thing might change cuz i bet i could fine a cooler magic fantasy cyborg kinda thing #thats not just ghost in the shell the movie #i dont know anything abt that movie ive never seen it. was it based off a comic? idk i feel like its the kinda thing to come from a comic #but i have no evidence for that #idk why i decided to have a full on monologue in the tags of this post but here we are i guess jsvebxjxkssn #if tumblr fucks up the order of these tags ill scream

[donutloverxo]

Classy girls wear pearls

Written for @chrissquares @starlightcrystalline @amythedvdhoarder @drabblewithfrannybarnes ​ @pumpkin-and-pine challenge! Thanks chrissquares for the festive dividers! Used the prompt snowstorm + this gif!

Summary - Andy gives you a pearl necklace 👀

Warnings - 18+only please, smut(m/f), daddy kink, deep throat, d/s relationship, cum play.

Pairing - Andy Barber x reader

Word count - 1.4k

Masterlists are linked in the bio!

You grinned wickedly as you looked out your windows.

Your pretty suburban street, which is usually bustling with people trying to get to work and kids running around, school busses and such, now so quiet and quaint, covered in white, as if a pale blanket was draped over it.

You turned around when you heard your husband groaning, thinking that maybe he’d finally be up, but he simply slept on his back, mumbling something in his sleep.

You made your way over to the bed, ready to wake him up because you missed him - even though he was right fucking there - and you wanted to give him the good news. But then you noticed the tent in his briefs.

“It would be a nice early Christmas gift,” you mused, taking his morning wood out of the tight restraints and then looking back at him to see if you had woken him but he looked like sleeping beauty.

Deep in his slumber, his long dark lashes kissing his cheekbones, his naked chest falling and rising with ever breath he took.

Pumping him a couple of times with your palm, you swirled your tongue around his head, already weeping with pre-ejaculate, moaning as you tasted some of the salty liquid before you swallowed him whole. Or as much of him as you could. With how HUGE he was, it was always a struggle.

But you tried hard, remembered everything he had taught you, relaxed your throat till your nose touched the fuzzy soft curls at the base of his length. You tried to hold him there but then choked on him, the loud noise waking him up.

“What the...” he sprang up, causing his head to hit the back of your as you choked again, holding onto his thigh for support.

You looked to your side, blinking at him, you pulled him out with a loud ‘pop’, panting and trying to breath in some much needed oxygen. “Just wanted to wish you a good morning, daddy,” you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, “and give you an early Christmas present.”

He smiled down at you, caressing your cheek before holding onto the back of your head, “Thanks, honey, you’re the sweetest girl in this whole world. Always taking such,” pushing you back down on his cock, “good care of your daddy,” he sighed as you licked a stripe up his slit before rigorously sucking him.

“Such a good girl,” he praised, entranced by the sight of your plump behind, sliding your thin panties to the side before swirling your juices over your puffy lips, “and you’re fucking wet,” he observed, his Bostonian accent prominent in his voice.

Your cheeks heat up at being caught red handed, you avert your gaze, trying to get away from his fingers, slipping into your heat.

“Aw, is my girl shy? There’s no need to be, sweetheart,” you mewled as he curled his fingers inside you, “Look at me,” he ordered, and like a good little doll you followed looked back at him, “You always look at me when you suck my cock, do you understand?”

You nodded, not being able to verbally answer with your mouth full of cock or pull away since he had a tight grip on the back of your head.

“Hold on, honey,” he rasped, lifting his hips off the bed, making you gag again, “remember to breath through your nose, we don’t want you choking,” he groaned.

He kept driving his hips into your mouth, squelching sinful noises came from your mouth, you tried to breath through your nose as he had asked you to, ready to swallow his creamy goodies as you always do. It was a nice way you often start your day but then he pulled you off of his throbbing cock which was blushed pink.

“I’m gonna cum, doll,” he stroked his cock, pulling your head back, “Take off your nightie,” he ordered and you slipped the straps off, exposing your breasts to him.

“Daddy,” you huffed, jutting your lower lip out, trying to get a hold of his dick because you wanted to finish him off but he swatted you away with his other hand.

“Don’t pout, honey, daddy’s gonna give you a nice pearl necklace as a thank you,” his head fell back against his pillow, his balls tightening as spurts of his hot cum landed all over your chest and breasts.

“It’s pretty,” you giggled, swirling his cum around, maybe you liked this better than swallowing him down, it was as if he was marking his territory. “I belong to you now,” you lay to his side, putting your head over his chest to listen to his heart beat, which seemed to be calming down now.

“You’ve always belong to me,” he tutted, his hand back in your panties, spreading your weeping petals.

You moaned, grinding against his palm, arching your back when his palm brushes against your sensitive clit.

“Not now, sweetheart,” he cruelly took his hand away as you slapped his chest in frustration. He growled, “You best watch yourself, honey, I still have enough time to teach you a lesson,” he threatened, delivering a harsh slap to your ass.

You yelped, holding onto his pectoral and giggling.

“What’s so funny?” he wanted to know.

“They’ve made today a holiday! Because of a snowstorm that’s supposed to come tonight. So you can stay in bed all day!” you squealed, pecking his lips before nuzzling your nose against his soft beard.

“I’ll still have to work from home, sweetheart. But that’s good, because now I get to,” he flipped you so you were under him, looking at his spend on your chest with a heated gaze “Teach you a lesson. And some manners. Waking me up with such ill intent...”

***

You were snuggled up with a warm blanket on your couch, sitting up on a fluffy pillow because your ass was still sore from the ‘punishment’ Andy gave you that morning, a nice warm hot chocolate in hand with plenty of marshmallows.

You had dropped one off to Andy in his home office as well, with no marshmallows because he was no fun sometimes, hoping to maybe get some more action even though your pussy was still sore but he was too busy.

He promised to give you all the love and attention the whole week of holidays - starting tomorrow.

You had already decorated your entire home at the beginning of November, since you were a Christmas fanatic, and already cooked up a nice chicken roast and some fudge cake for dinner, there was nothing else to do.

You thought of maybe bothering Andy again but he’d just shoo you away like he did before.

You giggled as you felt a familiar pair of hands covering your eyes, “Is it Santa?” you tried to guess.

“Ho ho, it is!” he tried his best to speak in a deeper voice as you both laughed, “And I’ve got a treat for you!”

“But it’s not Christmas yet!” you squealed. Already excited to see what present he had for you. “Is it an ice cream cake? Or a new stuffie?”

Since you had not so subtly hinted at wanting a stuffed unicorn and rolled your eyes when he said you already have too many. As if anyone can have too many stuffies.

“Something much better,” he removed his hands, handing you a turquoise box and sitting next to you.

“From Tiffany’s?!” you screamed, opening it hastily, “oh my god, these are beautiful,” you marvelled at the ivory pearls, touching them hesitantly, they were the perfect size for you.

“I got some earrings to go with it too but you’ll have to wait till Christmas for them,” he took the necklace out of the box and worked on clasping it around your neck. Smiling fondly as they sat so beautifully on your neck, “Money well spent.”

“Thank you so so much,” you smothered his cheeks and his face with sloppy kisses, “I don’t have such a nice gift for you though.”

“You being here is gift enough, honey. I’m done with my work now and all yours,” he watched as your face lit up. His heart warm and excited to spend the holiday with his wife in his warm cosy home.

Comments and reblogs are really appreciated❤❤

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to join my taglist or follow @donutloverxoalerts and turn on notifications!

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

#andy barber x y/n #andy barber #andy barber x you #andy barber x reader #merryhoemas #chris evans x reader

[sparktober]

Sparktober Bingo 2021!

Back for a new generation: Sparktober Bingo!

Instead of coming up with an Atlantis-specific list of prompts, I compiled a bunch of 2021 -tober prompt lists into one google doc here. (Links to original prompt lists are on the google doc.) Add in a list of Atlantis episodes and...

How to play:

Choose a “flavor” from the prompt sets below the cut, then paste it into this fandom bingo card generator.

Adjust your browser size til it looks right and take a screenshot, or use the html script if you’re familiar with using html on tumblr. Tag @sparktober​ if you want us to reblog it so everyone knows you’re playing!

  Sparktober Bingo Rules:

Complete a row/column, corners, or a blackout of your card by November 1, or not! Update as you go.

All fan-works are allowed: art, edits, fic, meta... bonus points to anyone who picks the “sprinkles” flavor and goes full mid-aughts by filling their bingo cards with 100x100 pixel icons.

You are allowed to pull multiple cards until you get one that inspires you, and you can also go through the prompt list of your choice in advance to pull out squicks or things you absolutely won’t write. I recommend not googling unfamiliar words from your work computer.

Use the prompts liberally! Episode titles can be treated as the episode or as generic prompts (e.g. “Epiphany” can be for an episode-related fic or a prompt for an epiphany of your choice).

  Flavor descriptions:

VANILLA: Gen prompt lists from Fictober, Inktober, Trektober Gen, and Trektober Trek.

CHOCOLATE: Zesty prompt lists from Trektober NSFW, Kinktober, and Whumptober. The multiple-prompts-per-day from Kinktober and Whumptober have been broken into individual prompts.

CANDY CORN: Fall / holiday themed prompts from TUA-tober.

SPRINKLES: Atlantis episode list (in order, in case you only want to copy certain seasons), along with characters and a few Atlantis-specific prompts.

TWIST: All of the above! (You can also manually mix and match different flavors, of course.)

Text blocks to copy into the bingo card generator are below the cut. Enjoy!!

VANILLA

“I need you.”; “You have no proof.”; “I’ve waited for this.”; “Fine, I give up.”; “I’m not saying I told you so…”; “Didn’t we already have this conversation?”; “That could have gone better.”; “This is it, isn’t it?”; “There’s no right side to this.”; “It’s so quiet.”; “I swear, it’s not always like this.”; “You keep me safe.”; “The things you make me do…”; “Your information was wrong.”; “I like that in you.”; “Not this again.”; “I’m with you, you know that.”; “This was not part of the plan.”; “I feel strange.”; “That’s what I’m known for.”; “What did I say?”; “No promises.”; “This time, do what I say.”; “Is this supposed to impress me?”; “Do you know what time it is?”; “I’m sure this has never worked, ever.”; “You could have died!”; “I don’t have to explain myself.”; “Why are we whispering?”; “Don’t ruin this.”; “Take me with you.”; Crystal; Suit; Vessel; Knot; Raven; Spirit; Fan; Watch; Pressure; Pick; Sour; Stuck; Roof; Tick; Helmet; Compass; Collide; Moon; Loop; Sprout; Fuzzy; Open; Leak; Extinct; Splat; Connect; Spark; Crispy; Patch; Slither; Risk; Meet-Cute; Amnesia; Age Difference; Pining; Sick Fic; Fake Relationship; Accidental Meeting; Epistolary; Secret Identity; Historical AU; Nightmares; Monster Hunter; Reunion; Soulmates; At Pride; Angst; Seasons; Fix-It; Coffee Shop; Movie Plot AU; Kid Fic; Actor's Other Crossover Work; OT+; Getting Together; Only One Bed; Pirates; Making Up; Forbidden Relationship; Tattoos; Halloween; Prime Directive; Lower Decks / Background Characters; Away Mission; Ship's Bar; Aliens Made Them Do It; Observation Deck; Crew with Family; Holodeck; Science Crew; Character Survives; Headcanons; Diplomacy; Decontamination; Trek Crossover; Replicator; Worldbuilding; Redshirts; Sex / Love Potion; Medical Crew; Transporters; Medbay; Interspecies Relationship; Mirrorverse; Uniforms; Mutiny; Stranded on a Planet; Rec Room; Academy Era; Second Contact; Command Crew; Off-Duty

  CHOCOLATE

A/B/O; Soft; Anonymous Sex; Penetration with Object/s; Sleeping; Intercrural Sex; Restraints; In/Under Water; Group Sex; First Time; Possessive Behavior; Dry Humping / Grinding; Overstimulation; Roleplay; Rimming; Stretching / Fisting; Power Imbalance; Food Play; Fingering; Body Worship; Sex Work; Voyeurism / Exhibitionism; Safewords; Technology; Oral Sex; Omorashi / Wetting; Crying; Underwear / Lingerie; Friends with Benefits; Pain Kink; Dirty Talk; Trick or Treat; All trussed up and nowhere to go; Talking is overrated; Sticks and stones may break my bones...; Trust fall; I've got red in my ledger; Touch and go; My spidey-sense is tingling; Coughing up a lung; Rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated; Oops, I did it again; Just keep swimming; It'll be fun, they said; That's gonna leave a mark; Under pressure; Feed a cold, starve a fever; On a need-to-know basis; Field care 101; The doctor is in; Just a scratch; Lost & found; That's where the blood's supposed to be; They made me do it; You break it, you buy it; One down, two to go; Hide & Seek; You will go down with this ship; “I'm fine, I prom...”; It's (not) just in your head; All work and no play; Digging your grave; Hurt & Comfort; “You have to let go.”; Garotte; Taunting; “Do you trust me?”; Betrayal; Bruises; Helplessness; Pneumothorax; Presumed Dead; Hospital; Adrift; Torture; “This is gonna suck.”; Crush injuries; Delirium; Recovery; “Please don't move.”; “Now smile for the camera.”; Bitten; Trunk; Bleeding through bandages; Cursed; Auction; Self-induced injuries to escape; Escape; Fallen; Passing out; “Good, you're finally awake.”; “You're still not dead?”; Major character death; Disaster zone; Barbed Wire; Choking; Insults; Taken Hostage; Misunderstanding; Touch Starved; Numbness; Exotic Illness; (Blind) Rage; Flare-Up; Drowning; Made To Watch; Burns; Beaten; Fever Dreams; Scars; Hemorrhage; Doctor Visit; Bleeding; Trapped Under Water; Pressure; Demon; Ransom; Flashback; Flight; Waterfall; Vertigo; Nightmares; Too Weak To Move; Left For Dead; Trauma; Bound; Gagged; “Who Did This To You?”; Pushed; Broken Nose; Hunger; Blindness; “Definitely Just A Cold”; Tears; Ice Chips; Dehydration; Begging; Cauterization; Force; Bees; Aftermath; Dread; Cpr; Stabbing; Solitary Confinement; Blood-Matted Hair; Obsession; Pursuit; Revenge; Hiding; Trap Door; Collapse; Panic; Overworked; Ghosts; Prisoner; Losing Control; Threats; Caning; Mercy; Forgotten; Head Injury; Screaming; Comfort; Self-Sacrifice; Trapped; Near-Death Experience; Regret; Tragedy; Battlefield; Anxiety; Gore; Petplay; Bimbofication; Panties & Lingerie; Bondage; Double Penetration in 2 Holes; Breeding; Humiliation; NTR; Incest; Emeto; Omorashi; Free Use; Crossdressing; Public; Three (or more) some; Daddy & Mommy; Double Penetration in 1 Hole; Distention & Cockbulge; Xenophilia; Shotgunning; Watersports; Pregnancy; Lactation; Waxplay; Grooming; Human Furniture; Feet; Prostituion; MacroMicro; Spanking; Cockwarming; Glory Hole; Somnophilia; Body Modification; Temperature Play; Leather; Size Difference; Sounding; Stockings; Tentacles; Medical Play; Stripping; Orgasm Denial; Master & slave; Scissoring; Titfucking; Frottage; Knifeplay; Formal Wear; Breathplay; Fisting; Pegging; Scat; Beastiality; Fucking Machine; Tickling; Boot Worship; Bukkake; Collaring; Foodplay; Non or dubcon; Feederism; Sensory Deprivation; Oviposition; Clone & Selfcest; Exhibitionism & Voyeurism; Impact Play; Sadomasochism; Bloodplay; Praise Kink; Body Swap; Sweat; Branding; Massage; Role Reversal; Armpit; Masturbation; Inflation; Sex Toys; Burnplay; Menophilia; Stuck in Wall; Deepthroating & Facesitting; Dacryphilia; Hate Sex

  CANDY CORN

Birthday; Sick Day; Autumn; Candles; Plaid / Flannel; Leaf Piles; Sweaters; Baking; Cinnamon; Pumpkin Spice Latte; Carnival; Movie Night; Candy; Graveyard; Black Cats; Goosebumps; Pumpkin; Party; Monster; Ghosts; Witch; Vampire; Traditions; Magic; Mask; Haunted House; Trick; Treat; Costume; Monster Mash; Halloween

  SPRINKLES

Rising Part 1; Rising Part 2; Hide and Seek; Thirty-Eight Minutes; Suspicion; Childhood's End; Poisoning the Well; Underground; Home; The Storm; The Eye; The Defiant One; Hot Zone; Sanctuary; Before I Sleep; The Brotherhood; Letters from Pegasus; The Gift; The Siege Part 1; The Siege Part 2; The Siege Part 3; The Intruder; Runner; Duet; Condemned; Trinity; Instinct; Conversion; Aurora; The Lost Boys; The Hive; Epiphany; Critical Mass; Grace Under Pressure; The Tower; The Long Goodbye; Coup d'Etat; Michael; Inferno; Allies; No Man's Land; Misbegotten; Irresistible; Sateda; Progeny; The Real World; Common Ground; McKay and Mrs. Miller; Phantoms; The Return Part 1; The Return Part 2; Echoes; Irresponsible; Tao of Rodney; The Game; The Ark; Sunday; Submersion; Vengeance; First Strike; Adrift; Lifeline; Reunion; Doppelganger; Travelers; Tabula Rasa; Missing; The Seer; Miller's Crossing; This Mortal Coil; Be All My Sins Remember'd; Spoils of War; Quarantine; Harmony; Outcast; Trio; Midway; The Kindred Part 1; The Kindred Part 2; The Last Man; Search and Rescue; The Seed; Broken Ties; The Daedalus Variations; Ghost in the Machine; The Shrine; Whispers; The Queen; Tracker; First Contact; The Lost Tribe; Outsiders; Inquisition; The Prodigal; Remnants; Brain Storm; Infection; Identity; Vegas; Enemy at the Gate; Ronon Dex; Teyla Emmagan; John Sheppard; Carson Beckett; Elizabeth Weir; Rodney McKay; Jennifer Keller; Samantha Carter; Aiden Ford; Radek Zelenka; Kate Heightmeyer; Evan Lorne; Laura Cadman; Kolya; Chuck; Peter Grodin; Steven Caldwell; Lantea; Ocean; Ancient(s); Richard Woolsey; Athosians; Daedalus; Wraith; Nanites; Asurans; Genii; DHD; SGC; Stargate; Earth; Antarctica; Ascension

 TWIST

“I need you.”; “You have no proof.”; “I’ve waited for this.”; “Fine, I give up.”; “I’m not saying I told you so…”; “Didn’t we already have this conversation?”; “That could have gone better.”; “This is it, isn’t it?”; “There’s no right side to this.”; “It’s so quiet.”; “I swear, it’s not always like this.”; “You keep me safe.”; “The things you make me do…”; “Your information was wrong.”; “I like that in you.”; “Not this again.”; “I’m with you, you know that.”; “This was not part of the plan.”; “I feel strange.”; “That’s what I’m known for.”; “What did I say?”; “No promises.”; “This time, do what I say.”; “Is this supposed to impress me?”; “Do you know what time it is?”; “I’m sure this has never worked, ever.”; “You could have died!”; “I don’t have to explain myself.”; “Why are we whispering?”; “Don’t ruin this.”; “Take me with you.”; Crystal; Suit; Vessel; Knot; Raven; Spirit; Fan; Watch; Pressure; Pick; Sour; Stuck; Roof; Tick; Helmet; Compass; Collide; Moon; Loop; Sprout; Fuzzy; Open; Leak; Extinct; Splat; Connect; Spark; Crispy; Patch; Slither; Risk; Meet-Cute; Amnesia; Age Difference; Pining; Sick Fic; Fake Relationship; Accidental Meeting; Epistolary; Secret Identity; Historical AU; Nightmares; Monster Hunter; A/B/O; Reunion; Soulmates; At Pride; Angst; Seasons; Fix-It; Coffee Shop; Movie Plot AU; Kid Fic; Actor's Other Crossover Work; OT+; Getting Together; Only One Bed; Pirates; Making Up; Forbidden Relationship; Tattoos; Halloween; Prime Directive; Lower Decks / Background Characters; Away Mission; Ship's Bar; Aliens Made Them Do It; Observation Deck; Crew with Family; Holodeck; Science Crew; Character Survives; Headcanons; Diplomacy; Decontamination; Trek Crossover; Replicator; Worldbuilding; Redshirts; Sex / Love Potion; Medical Crew; Transporters; Medbay; Interspecies Relationship; Mirrorverse; Uniforms; Mutiny; Stranded on a Planet; Rec Room; Academy Era; Second Contact; Command Crew; Off-Duty; Soft; Anonymous Sex; Penetration with Object/s; Sleeping; Intercrural Sex; Restraints; In/Under Water; Group Sex; First Time; Possessive Behavior; Dry Humping / Grinding; Overstimulation; Roleplay; Rimming; Stretching / Fisting; Power Imbalance; Food Play; Fingering; Body Worship; Sex Work; Voyeurism / Exhibitionism; Safewords; Technology; Oral Sex; Omorashi / Wetting; Crying; Underwear / Lingerie; Friends with Benefits; Pain Kink; Dirty Talk; Trick or Treat; All trussed up and nowhere to go; Talking is overrated; Sticks and stones may break my bones...; Trust fall; I've got red in my ledger; Touch and go; My spidey-sense is tingling; Coughing up a lung; Rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated; Oops, I did it again; Just keep swimming; It'll be fun, they said; That's gonna leave a mark; Under pressure; Feed a cold, starve a fever; On a need-to-know basis; Field care 101; The doctor is in; Just a scratch; Lost & found; That's where the blood's supposed to be; They made me do it; You break it, you buy it; One down, two to go; You will go down with this ship; “I'm fine, I prom...”; It's (not) just in your head; All work and no play; Digging your grave; Hurt & Comfort; “You have to let go.”; Garotte; Taunting; “Do you trust me?”; Betrayal; Bruises; Helplessness; Pneumothorax; Presumed Dead; Hospital; Adrift; Torture; “This is gonna suck.”; Crush injuries; Delirium; Recovery; “Please don't move.”; “Now smile for the camera.”; Bitten; Trunk; Bleeding through bandages; Cursed; Auction; Self-induced injuries to escape; Escape; Fallen; Passing out; “Good, you're finally awake.”; “You're still not dead?”; Major character death; Disaster zone; Barbed Wire; Choking; Insults; Taken Hostage; Misunderstanding; Touch Starved; Numbness; Exotic Illness; (Blind) Rage; Flare-Up; Drowning; Made To Watch; Burns; Beaten; Fever Dreams; Scars; Hemorrhage; Doctor Visit; Bleeding; Trapped Under Water; Demon; Ransom; Flashback; Flight; Waterfall; Vertigo; Too Weak To Move; Left For Dead; Trauma; Bound; Gagged; “Who Did This To You?”; Pushed; Broken Nose; Hunger; Blindness; “Definitely Just A Cold”; Tears; Ice Chips; Dehydration; Begging; Cauterization; Force; Bees; Aftermath; Dread; Cpr; Stabbing; Solitary Confinement; Blood-Matted Hair; Obsession; Pursuit; Revenge; Hiding; Trap Door; Collapse; Panic; Overworked; Ghosts; Prisoner; Losing Control; Threats; Caning; Mercy; Forgotten; Head Injury; Screaming; Comfort; Self-Sacrifice; Trapped; Near-Death Experience; Regret; Tragedy; Battlefield; Anxiety; Gore; Petplay; Bimbofication; Panties & Lingerie; Bondage; Double Penetration in 2 Holes; Breeding; Humiliation; NTR; Incest; Emeto; Omorashi; Free Use; Crossdressing; Public; Three (or more) some; Daddy & Mommy; Double Penetration in 1 Hole; Distention & Cockbulge; Xenophilia; Shotgunning; Watersports; Pregnancy; Lactation; Waxplay; Grooming; Human Furniture; Feet; Prostituion; MacroMicro; Spanking; Cockwarming; Glory Hole; Somnophilia; Body Modification; Temperature Play; Leather; Size Difference; Sounding; Stockings; Tentacles; Medical Play; Stripping; Orgasm Denial; Master & slave; Scissoring; Titfucking; Frottage; Knifeplay; Formal Wear; Breathplay; Fisting; Pegging; Scat; Beastiality; Fucking Machine; Tickling; Boot Worship; Bukkake; Collaring; Foodplay; Non or dubcon; Feederism; Sensory Deprivation; Oviposition; Clone & Selfcest; Exhibitionism & Voyeurism; Impact Play; Sadomasochism; Bloodplay; Praise Kink; Body Swap; Sweat; Branding; Massage; Role Reversal; Armpit; Masturbation; Inflation; Sex Toys; Burnplay; Menophilia; Stuck in Wall; Deepthroating & Facesitting; Dacryphilia; Hate Sex; Birthday; Sick Day; Autumn; Candles; Plaid / Flannel; Leaf Piles; Sweaters; Baking; Cinnamon; Pumpkin Spice Latte; Carnival; Movie Night; Candy; Graveyard; Black Cats; Goosebumps; Pumpkin; Party; Monster; Witch; Vampire; Traditions; Magic; Mask; Haunted House; Trick; Treat; Costume; Monster Mash; Rising Part 1; Rising Part 2; Hide and Seek; Thirty-Eight Minutes; Suspicion; Childhood's End; Poisoning the Well; Underground; Home; The Storm; The Eye; The Defiant One; Hot Zone; Sanctuary; Before I Sleep; The Brotherhood; Letters from Pegasus; The Gift; The Siege Part 1; The Siege Part 2; The Siege Part 3; The Intruder; Runner; Duet; Condemned; Trinity; Instinct; Conversion; Aurora; The Lost Boys; The Hive; Epiphany; Critical Mass; Grace Under Pressure; The Tower; The Long Goodbye; Coup d'Etat; Michael; Inferno; Allies; No Man's Land; Misbegotten; Irresistible; Sateda; Progeny; The Real World; Common Ground; McKay and Mrs. Miller; Phantoms; The Return Part 1; The Return Part 2; Echoes; Irresponsible; Tao of Rodney; The Game; The Ark; Sunday; Submersion; Vengeance; First Strike; Lifeline; Doppelganger; Travelers; Tabula Rasa; Missing; The Seer; Miller's Crossing; This Mortal Coil; Be All My Sins Remember'd; Spoils of War; Quarantine; Harmony; Outcast; Trio; Midway; The Kindred Part 1; The Kindred Part 2; The Last Man; Search and Rescue; The Seed; Broken Ties; The Daedalus Variations; Ghost in the Machine; The Shrine; Whispers; The Queen; Tracker; First Contact; The Lost Tribe; Outsiders; Inquisition; The Prodigal; Remnants; Brain Storm; Infection; Identity; Vegas; Enemy at the Gate; Ronon Dex; Teyla Emmagan; John Sheppard; Carson Beckett; Elizabeth Weir; Rodney McKay; Jennifer Keller; Samantha Carter; Aiden Ford; Radek Zelenka; Kate Heightmeyer; Evan Lorne; Laura Cadman; Kolya; Chuck; Peter Grodin; Steven Caldwell; Lantea; Ocean; Ancient(s); Richard Woolsey; Athosians; Daedalus; Wraith; Nanites; Asurans; Genii; DHD; SGC; Stargate; Earth; Antarctica; Ascension

#sparktober is coming #sparktober #sparktober bingo

[nyxzee]

i made one for the daily blog so here’s my pinned post

🐸 daily bloodswap blog  🐸 occasional shitty bloodswap  🐸  instagram  🐸  commissions  🐸  ko-fi  🐸 inspo blog   🐸  fantroll blog  🐸 ships  🐸 obelizestuck  🐸 steam  🐸 toyhouse  🐸 main blog  🐸 pesterquest review  🐸 the gamzee trauma post  🐸

i’m nyx or eris, i’m 31, witch of mind, capriza, mentally and chronically ill and an abuse survivor. my pronouns are they/them only and i’m bisexual. i live in south africa and it’s a shitty place. i use corel painter for the bulk of my work and clip studio/photoshop for flats and initial adjustments. i’m bound to say stupid edgy shit on posts because i am in the end, kinda edgy. i’m in chronic pain every day, a severe rotator cuff tear, hypermobile wrists, tendonitis, chronic headaches and fibromyalgia are the bane of my life and it’s draining as fuck. 

don’t tag my art or posts with any hate tags, it’s difficult enough doing it, i don’t need to see opinions like that on something that more than likely, has pushed my pain level up. of course i have characters i intently dislike, but i’m not here to start screaming about how shitty i find them, and i’d like it if you kept that shit somewhere away from me.

more info under the cut

i’m cool with my art being used in mood/stim boards, but credit me by nyxzee, not the daily blog. you’re fine to tag most of my art with kin/me but please don’t do it on the obelizestuck posts. you can request from the daily blog a swap like that. dirgestuck is fine for kin/me tags

if you want a request for a swap that isn’t obelizestuck, ask the daily. it’ll likely  take a while but know that i’m not doing that here and if you really want it exact commission me. i’m doing this stuff for free, don’t be a dick

obelizestuck requests are open here, it’s my current passion project. i used to be open to dirgestuck ones but at the moment i’m struggling with my feelings towards it. i’m sorry and i know it sucks i’m not getting to the requests for it but it’s a shitty time in my head.

i’m fine with you reposting my stuff as long as you credit me, with a link to either this tumblr or on my instagram. i however am not fine with you using my art for any drama or character bashing. 

i take a long ass time with ships, it’s just i get irritated with how awful i end up making characters look. i know it sucks that i used to draw some ships and they’re now on my never gonna draw this part. i had a string of friends who i wrote with using some of those ships and it just, sucks doing them now.

if you want to talk about my personal head canons and the amount of ridiculous homestuck lore i’ve got in my head, my ask box is always open. if it’s general homestuck or obelizestuck, ask here. if it’s random bloodswaps - the daily blog is your friend. i honestly have stories for every piece so i’m more than happy to divulge. the clown cult and jade bloods are the things i’m passionate the most about

folykl, meulin, lynera, cirava, chahut, ardata, feferi, nihkee, kurloz and gamzee are my all time favorites (not in order because they’re all amazing to me), lesser faves are sollux, remele, chixie, marvus and lanque. if you’re requesting the super faves i’ll likely do them sooner though i do intend on filling every request one day

i’m not a huge fan of the human characters but rose rules. i’m not getting into least favorite characters because i don’t want to make someone feel i’m attacking them for liking a character and the pieces with said character are upsetting, i’ve gone through that a million times with gamzee and it sucks ass

i’m not getting into heavy drama regarding this because i’ve done it so many times in the past and it’s headache inducing, i love gamzee. i’ve been sent gore for liking gamzee. i’ve also had horrible shit sent from people who like him and were attacked and it’s just. not something i’m getting into or changing about myself. 

i fucking hate pesterquest and homestuck2, they’re fucked up stories and i hate that characters i genuinely love have been turned into such piles of shit. friendsim also has a ton of bullshit in it (think elwurd, lanque and marvus to be exact) but it was better than the absolute train wreck that pesterquest was. i don’t feel like going into heavy detail on this but you can message @emeradan for the full low down. act 2 also had a fuck ton of issues and my stories and head canons are based more in friendsim and the original homestuck comic than the pile of shit that is recent homestuck. 

anyway that’s the end of this. as i said my ask box is open if you want to talk hs stuff, either here or on @dailybloodswap and i’m always happy to draw characters if you wanna request some! 

#not art

[licenselesswriter]

1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 13, 14, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 41, 44. And if I could send more, I would.

Inspiration and Reading Asks:

1. How long ago did you start reading fanfiction? Writing fanfiction? Started reading when I was 12, started writing it, when I was 14, so reading, 19 years ago, and writing 17 years ago.

2. How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily a fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both? I’m a 33.3% reader, 33.3% WIP machine, a 33.4% writer, and 100% mess, I usually spend my time doing an absurd amount of WIP that comes out of thin air, like, I can be eating an apple, boom, Bori WIP, a cup of coffee? Boom, Roro WIP, breathing? Boom, Lucaya WIP (that last one happens the most)

3. Are there any fics that inspired you to write what you do? It’s called Unfaithful (EN), it’s on fanfiction.net, and honestly, it’s so well written, that I had nausea 3 times while reading it, the pain was so palpable that I felt ill from it.

4. Link your three favorite fics right now. Right now, and in order 1 - Unfaithful (EN)  2 - Twenty Nights  3 - Perfect 

6. How do you find a new fic to read? Where do you primarily read fanfiction? Fanfiction or AO3, and have an excel doc with my favorite ships, then I go to the random number generator, putting 1 as the minimum and maximum the number of the last ship I added to the list, then hit random, and read about that ship, keep things fresh.

7. Do you prefer to read short fics or long fics? Both.

8. How often do you reblog/comment on fics that you like? When they are on Tumblr, a few times.

9. Tag 3 fic writers you think are underrated/unknown in the fandom/fanfiction community. I’m sorry, but I don’t know if they have Tumblr, so, amirmitchell, snowdrifts, and Onde Tu Esteves

10. What’s your favorite fandom, pairing, or character to read fic for? Fandom: Game of Thrones, love all those modern universe AU I have to say. Pairing: Lucaya (Not a surprise) Character: Lucas Friar, Portgas D. Ace, Roronoa Zoro, or Prince Zuko.

Fanfiction Writing Asks:

11. How do you come up with your fic titles? Coffee, food, and usually, Spotify, all that, sometimes, make my brain work into having titles about the things I want to write.

13. Do you outline your fics? How much of a headache would someone get if they just looked at an outline of yours without reading the fic? I do outlines, in 5 stages, so a pretty big one. 1 - I write in my notebook, what I want to write, like a general idea. 2 - Post it on my walls and door, to give the story some structure. 3 - Notebook outline the arch of the story. 4 - Outline every chapter on word. 5 - Reduce that chapter into mini arches to write faster.

14. Do you have a personal word minimum that you hold yourself too? Why or why not? I do (now), I usually don’t post anything that is less than 2900 words, Why? because we must not forget that writers not only write for people in the fandom, they mainly write for themselves, and I love to read something among that word count because that’s long enough to keep me on the hook.

16. Do you research for your fics? If so, how deep of a rabbit hole have you gone down by accident when researching? I do research for my fics, how deep? I can give indications for divorce paperwork in the state of New York, even if you want or not to go scorch the earth with the “fault” rule, I can give an appropriate value to an apartment or a house in New York, Texas, Nashville, and San Francisco, and I can do taxes on those states too, and I know more about how high school classes work in the US than in my country, even when I went to those classes, and I’m from Santiago, Chile, you know, in South America, like, the last country of South America

17. How obsessively do you sit and stare at your fic after you’ve just posted and wait for feedback? I don’t, once I finish writing something, I run away, and watch anime for a few hours, or work (Yeah, sometimes I write on my lunch hour)

18. Do you have a WIP that you keep telling yourself you’ll eventually get back to, but deep down you know that’s probably a lie? I do apologize to “The Games we Play” I have no idea how I outlined your 26 chapters, but I’m still on chapter 2, and I’m sorry.

19. Do you edit your fics after you write them, or do you prefer to just hit post and run (because it’s someone else’s problem now)? Sometimes I do because sometimes, I write things wrong.

20. What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process? That happiness I get when I’m in the Zone, and I write something that makes me say “Fuck, that was good”

21. What’s your least favorite part about the fanfiction writing process? I call it “The Deep White”, also known as writer’s block.

23. What’s your absolute favorite trope to write? I don’t write it anymore, because I was banned from a forum for writing it, but I love to write a bad ending, like “Killing the main character that I make you love for 30 chapters in the end” ending. I’m evil, I know, sue me.

24. What’s a trope that you’d like to never hear about as long as you live, let alone write? The “Good girl trying to change the bad boy,” I hate, apologies, I DESPISE that trope, it’s not cool, first, to be with someone abusive, and second, to try to change someone because you think you’re so almighty that you will change him (or her)  because of love, bs, I SAID BS.

25. Do you listen to music as you write? If possible, link your writing playlist. I do, and of course, it’s named “Writing Shiet” because my brain can only process decent titles for fics (Says the guy who once named a fic “No Title”) Here’s the link 

26. What’s your biggest distraction when writing? Anime and Manga.

27. Do you like to give your readers some warning of what might be coming or just slap them in the face with content at random? I don’t usually do it, but when I do it, I do it cryptic, like “You might be surprised, but this, I called in the beginning.”

28. How do you deal with writing pressure (ie: pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc)? I ignore it, If I can ignore good advice, ignore something that gives me more stress it’s an easy cake.

29. Have you ever written for an exchange or event of some kind? Which one(s)? Did you enjoy it? I did but didn’t submit, I wrote for 2019 fictoberfest on Tumblr, but never send a shit, I did enjoy it tho

30. Post a snippet from your current WIP without context - no more than 300 words. "Well, we're still not in Texas," he says, implying something not PG-13 at all. "My God, in what did I turn you?" Maya teases him before getting up and grab his hand, pulling him up. Lucas grins at her, "On," he replies, making Maya flirty hit his chest

31. Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones? I love writing Lucas and Maya, and honestly don’t know if it helps me or not LOL.

32. Copy and paste your top three favorite lines/jokes/sentences you’ve ever written. What fics do they come from? 1 - From November to June CH3 A few hours later, Maya heard a knock on her door. She takes a peek through the magic eye on her door and saw Lucas. She grabs her phone and fastly texts him. She was able to hear the 'ding' of his phone, and spying through the magic eye she saw his reaction. "Ok, first of all, I'm not that, second, my mother is not that, and third, I'm not gonna put that there, that's fucking gross, and probably deadly if you consider the size of my hands." he defends himself. 2 - Ten Duel Commandments CH2 Maya smiles at him, "Since you're all Texan cowboy goody-good boy, I imagine you would relate more with the honorable Lord Stark," she teases him. "Says the woman who read three books in a row and texts me at four in the morning," he replies before pulling out his phone, "R+L=J," he teases her, reading her text. "That's private, asshole," Maya recriminates him. 3 - The One Who Stayed CH18 "Then, I have less... GET OFF ME FUCKER!" Maya screamed, punching the person who grabbed her arm, "Holy shit, Lucas." she says, looking at the person she just hit. "Noted, never approach to you by surprise." Lucas says on the floor, "Well, this makes me feel more confident about you being here alone." he says before start laughing.

33. What do you like writing better: one-shots or multi-chapter stuff? Multi-chapter, unless, it’s wedding fics because I love weddings.

34. How much of yourself and your life experiences do you put into your writing? What do you think your readers’ image of you is? None.

35. How much has writing fic changed your life? Not much, but has made me happier.

36. Are there any fics or fandoms you’re embarrassed to have written or been part of? The Glee Project Fandom.

37. Give an update on your current WIP - if you don’t have one, give a sneak peek to a title or idea that you have and would like to write. "Shawn called him, and he assures him that if you try something inappropriate, he has a shotgun," she adds, making Lucas's face go pale. "Well, guess like father, like son," he comments, making Maya show unexpected interest in his words.

38. What does your writing process look like? How chaotic is it on a scale of 1 (very tame) to 10 (you can’t handle this kind of chaos)? As I explained in the outline question, pretty tame if we count that I have my outline process numbered LOL.

39. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on? That I try to make it real, I try to make people feel something when they read.

41. What’s your most popular fic (with the most notes on Tumblr, most hits/kudos on ao3)? Tumblr? The One Who Stayed Fanfiction.net? Ten Duel Commandments

44. Rant about something writing-related. Please, let’s stop glorifying the “Bad Boy” character, he’s an asshole, allow me to explain, Bakugo, fucking asshole, he’s just a bully with an oversized ego, no, he’s not a tsundere, no, it’s not cute, that shit is abusive, and it really makes me want to punch people in their nose when the romanticize that bullshit.

Done

(Told ya I was bored)

#Licenseless Answers

[elfnerdherder]

Ill Intentions: Chapter 12

[Support my Writing] [Read on Ao3]

So...it’s been awhile. :) If you need to recap before this, you can access it through my tags on my Tumblr, or you can find it in its entirety on Ao3 [Here]

A special thanks to my Patrons: @frostyleegraham @jenacar @evertonem @starlit-catastrophe @frostylicker @sylarana, Laura G., Mendacious Bean, Superlurk, Duhaunt6, and Cecily!

Chapter 12: Cameos

           “…Why don’t you sit down, Abigail,” Will began, and he gestured lamely towards the table. There wasn’t a clock in the room, the only relief to the stiff, awkward silence the rumbling sound of the heater kicking on. It was broken, but Charlie said they’d fix it when he had a damn good reason to fix it. As long as US Weekly kept hitting the top spot, they’d not earn a repairman.

           Most people just wore layers to work.

           Abigail surveyed him critically as she circled the table and sat down. Despite the slight appearance, wavery and almost water-like in its rippling, it was her eyes that grabbed him. They were cold, ice cubes that’d been long forgotten and left to stick to the sides of the freezer. Will wondered if she was much like him, rumpled and slumped but ultimately rotten from the inside out.

           “I got your reply,” she said as Will slumped into the seat across from her. “It was…different.”

           “Different?”

           “You didn’t sound apologetic.”

           He rolled her words around in his head and weighed them, considering her. She looked to be about eighteen or so, just barely out of high school. How honest could he be? How honest should he be? There were laws about what someone could or couldn’t say in front of minors, right?

           God, why the fuck had Charlie left him alone with a kid? Why had this sounded like a good idea on his part?

           Given the flavor of his thoughts, Will figured he should tread very, very carefully. He was already in the shit hole with Charlie for being late. He didn’t want to risk Freddie and Charlie venturing into the basement level to promote the other Will to ‘Will Intentions’ instead.

           “I do regret that it led to the death of your mother,” he said at last, and his voice softened. “I know what it’s like to grow up without parents.”

           “I grew up with parents.”

           “Then to lose them, I’m sure, is not easy.”

           “Are you serious right now?” she asked. Her voice darkened, hit hard and fell onto the table between them, accusing.

           “…What?”

           At his stupefied expression, she reached into her messenger bag and withdrew a much abused, much reread paper. It’d been folded into a small square that she opened with the familiarity of a person that knew which way to turn it. She cleared her voice, stiffened her spine, and curled her lip. He wondered if she’d taken a plane or a car, whether they let kids her age travel alone on trains. He wondered if she’d read it by lamplight, passing over alcohol-abused words that he’d foolishly woven together late at night alone in his apartment. God, he should have at least proofread it.

           “You said, ‘I wonder what it is that you feel, Abigail, since you shared that you don’t feel much at all. In my own darkest moments, I find myself consumed with either entirely too many emotions to process or not enough to address my problems.

           ‘In regards to your father, I can honestly say that I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. To say that that simple article has set my own life into a tailspin would be an understatement, but I can only fathom when I’m eating dinner alone in my apartment what it must be like for you to also have to eat alone now. I know institutions such as the one you’re likely contained within, and I know the thoughts likely pervading your mind. ‘What’s going to happen to me?’ you’re probably wondering. ‘Was this somehow my fault?’

           ‘When you feel nothing, is there a hollowness inside of you that continues reaching ever-onward, grasping, or is it that there is so much in so little a time that you feel as though you’ve simply shut down, your mind refusing to acknowledge its trauma in order to protect you? I wonder about things like that, especially since first receiving your e-mail. I wonder about your future, your hopes, your dreams. I wonder about your father and how even in his most horrific moments, he must have loved you very much to kill every girl he could find that looked like you, simply to cherish you just awhile more.

           ‘Mostly, though, Abigail, I wonder if you were aware that you were a lure, or if you’re actually the picture of utmost innocence that most of the news and society has decided you to be.’”

           When she finished reading, she laid the paper onto the table and stared at him, hard.

           Will wasn’t sure how to feel, hearing his words read aloud and in the quiet of a room whose clock was broken –had been for months. Charlie hadn’t replaced it, and he wouldn’t anytime soon. He glanced to his wrist. No watch. No time.

           His writing was harsh, though, accusing. His words weren’t apologetic in the least –accusatory, more like. Striking out because he’d been struck, in truth, by words that smarted. Did he care about people? Not for awhile. Did he even stop to consider her when he published that answer in Beverly’s column? No. Hell, he hadn’t even realized it would have taken off the way that it did –if anything, he thought Charlie would have fired him for stepping out of the ‘Wedding Announcements’ cubicle.

           “You want to talk about condolences for dead parents, but before you were forced to look me in the eye, that is what you sent me,” she said coldly.

           “If it’s any consolation,” he said coarsely, “I was drunk when I wrote that. Even sober, I’m not much of a people person, but drunk…”

           “Drunk,” she repeated flatly.

           “Yeah, drunk. I was working out of my apartment when I came across your letter.”

           “You work a lot?” she asked.

           “Forty to fifty hours. More now, since that ‘Chats with Bev’ article came out.”

           She rolled her bottom lip into her mouth and bit down agitatedly. “You make associations that you can’t explain. I looked up your school records –you’re smart. Top of most of your classes, and a teacher once wrote about you in a psychiatric journal. She said that you could so acutely read a person that it was as though you were speaking about yourself.”

           “Thank you, Abigail.”

           She blinked rapidly, glancing down to her hands. “You got into my dad’s head better than anyone else did, and all you did was write a small article. I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised that you’re something like him. Smart, a hard worker, and a bit of a drinker.”

           The force of his ire didn’t let him consider his words. It unfurled, hot and furious, striking out like a whip. “I’m nothing like your father. He was a cannibalistic serial killer that targeted young, teenage girls and strangled them to death in order to eat them.”

           “Oh, and who would you target that would justify it?” she wondered without missing a beat. She looked up from hands clenched to fists in her lap.

           Cannibalistic serial killers, in fact, he thought savagely. And apparently drug addicts that make the mistake of cornering me in allies on dark, drunken nights.

           “I’ve never killed someone.”

           “You’ve thought about it.”

           “Everyone’s thought about killing someone in one way or another,” he replied curtly. His tongue was hot and blistered. “Be it your own hand or the hand of God, everyone’s thought about murder. Even you.”

           The heater let out a wild, unattractive scream, and a thin trail of smoke seeped from underneath it. Abigail gave an alarmed jump, and Will glanced to it, then back to her.

           “It does that,” he said –not entirely reassuring, but more to avoid her running from the room and causing alarm. He wanted to prolong his termination as long as he could, thanks.

           “…You know, this is more of what I had in mind when I first wondered who you were as a person,” Abigail said once the whining cry of the heater died back down to something bearable. “You made me feel like I’d made a mistake coming here with that first introduction, but this seems more like you.”

           Fuck, she was right, wasn’t she? Charlie was going to have his ass over this if she made a complaint. After work –if he made it that far, in truth –he was going to get a stiff, strong drink. His thoughts tumbled, trembled like the beating of hummingbird’s wings, too fast for him to catch. The Game, The Body, The Watch, The Girl, The Killer –

           The Game.

           “Ask anyone and you’ll find I’m not that popular,” he said uncomfortably. Her stare was stinging nettle underneath his skin.

           “They tell you that?”

           “No, but I know.”

           “In High School, they tell us that that’s just insecurities,” she replied, and maybe it was the way in which she tilted her head, but it made Will stop and look at her, really look as though it was the first time he’d ever seen her. His throat tightened, and he had to force down a lump at the look in her eye, the way she crossed one leg over the other and folded her arms.

           Will didn’t often like to think of his childhood. His past was something he liked to keep crushed down, down, down where not even whiskey could reel it back up to inspect. There was something in the expression on her face, though, that reminded him of one of the most popular girls in high school, Nicole.

           Will didn’t much like Nicole for the same reasons that the look on Abigail’s face made him instantly want to put as much distance between her and his person as was humanly possible. It was both dark and innocent, conniving yet kind. It was people like that that led to that one kid in high school killing himself. Nicole had even shown up to the funeral even though she was the one two weeks before that’d told him he should kill himself if living was truly so burdensome. She’d even shed some tears for him, telling those around her that ‘he could have just asked for help’.

           “…I know they don’t like me much the same way I know that you were a lure for your father, much the same way I now know that you were completely and unequivocally aware that you were a lure, Abigail,” he said slowly.

She didn’t blink, her stare drilling holes into his skin. Was that where the rot would come out, oozing from him? Could she see all of the ugly, sickening bits of him that most people couldn’t see but surely felt, couldn’t place but somehow knew? The Chesapeake Ripper saw it.

The Chesapeake Ripper liked it.

           “I’ll deny it,” she said, and her lip twitched –the remnants of a smirk she knew she shouldn’t show.

           “I never said that I was going to accuse you. I’m just saying that I know.”

           “Yeah? What else do you think you know about me?”

           “I know that despite your claims at secrecy, there’s no way you managed to get here without some form of approval unless you’re an adult. So, either a psychiatrist from the facility gave you permission and is waiting in good graces down the hall from us, or you’re at least eighteen. I know that you were well-aware that you were a lure the same way that I know you have taken on your father’s skills of manipulation with ease. He taught you everything that you know. You can hunt, and you know how to do it without looking like the hunter.

           “You’re uncomfortable in your clothes, though, Abigail, and sometimes your hands shake. You know what to do, but the application of it is scary, isn’t it? You’re being called out on all of the things your father taught you to hide. How does that feel?”

           “And what makes you think that you’re right?” she shot back. Defensive.

           He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes roughly, knocking his glasses askew. He wondered what time it was, if their silences and long stares and scowls had drained the hours away or if it’d only been five minutes.

           If he’d had his fucking watch…

           “You were taught to hunt, and I was taught to fish,” he said into his hands before blinking blearily at her. “You went out with your father to catch your quarry, and I was taught to let the quarry come to me. It makes a person observant.”

           “That’s not just being observant.”

           “You’re right,” he agreed. “But seeing as how this is a first meeting, that’s about as much as you’ll be able to get out of me.”

           “First meeting?” she asked. “Do you think I’d want to contact you again after this?”

           Someone shouted down the hall, and a door slammed. Will glanced to the windows whose blinds had been drawn, then back to her. “You didn’t look to the door expectantly when I mentioned a guardian, meaning you’re not waiting on anyone. You’re eighteen, and the psychiatric ward can’t keep you. What’d you use, your personal savings or your inheritance to get a ticket out here?”

           Silence. She shifted, uncomfortable, and Will dove for it.

           “Tell me.”

           Her jaw lifted stubbornly, but as the silence droned on and the heater let out another plaintive squeal, she let out a curt sigh. “I lifted someone’s ticket at the train station.”

           He wouldn’t let her have the satisfaction of him showing just how impressed he was at her resourcefulness. Things like that were the reason, he supposed, why kids were a terrible idea for him.

           “What’s your next step?” Will wondered. “Homeless shelter? Stealing a credit card for a hotel room? This isn’t ‘Home Alone: Lost in New York.’”

           “Women’s battered shelters always look out for young women like me,” she replied.

           “Risky. They ask a lot of questions these days since people like you keep taking up bed space from those in need.”

           “I’m in need.”

           Will snorted. “I doubt that.”

He patted his pockets down, then let out an irritable sigh when he realized that he’d forgotten his cloves, too. Fucking Ripper. Fucking watch. “Any chance you picked up smoking in your post-grievance rebellion?”

           And surprisingly, she reached into her backpack and pulled out a small box of Marlboro’s. “They’re menthol.”

           “Everything’s fucking menthol,” he muttered, and he grabbed the box from her. “Smoking’s back for you,” he added, lighting one.

           He pointedly tucked the box into his pocket, and Abigail leaned back into her chair to sulk.

           “What do you recommend, then, since you think that plan won’t work?” she asked as he lipped at the minty flavor.

           “I’d say that you could stay with me, but my apartment isn’t entirely safe.”

           This time, she didn’t fight the sneer making her lip curl. “Are you a mean drunk?”

           “No, but the Chesapeake Ripper is sending me letters, and the last thing that I need is a serial killer’s daughter being killed by another serial killer,” he returned in far more even tones than he’d expected. “Least of all in my apartment.”

           That, and it’s torn to shit, isn’t it?

           “I appreciate your concern over me.”

           “Don’t get any ideas,” he warned. “I’m getting enough publicity. Word gets out that you’re here, and I won’t have a moment’s peace.”

           “Then what’s the plan?” she asked impatiently.

           This isn’t my problem, he wanted to scream. You’re a biproduct of a psychopath’s rampage, but just because I reported it doesn’t make it my problem. Why is this my problem?

           Be it the look on her face, though, or maybe it was the look on Jack Crawford’s face should he find out who’d come to visit Will, but he couldn’t very well leave her, could he? Although she wasn’t his problem, hadn’t he first been the one to bring her world crashing down? Hadn’t he been the very reason that she was sitting right in front of him?

           I think that it takes only the barest of nudges to make you fall into the sordid crevices of your mind that you like to pretend don’t exist, The Chesapeake Ripper had said. Abigail may not be his problem, but Will could see how her problems only began because of him. Because of his mind. Because of the way he thought.

           He sighed and stubbed out the cigarette in the ash tray that Charlie liked to hide underneath the table –as though no one in the building knew that he smoked.

           “Wait here,” he said curtly, and he got up and walked out of the conference room.

-

           “No.”

           “Beverly –”

           “Are you joking?” she hissed, and the glare she cut his way was ruthless. “Please tell me that you’re joking.”

           “She’s got nowhere to go.”

           “How’s that my problem?”

           It wasn’t. It wasn’t Will’s problem, either. He sat just on the edge of her desk –at least her desk didn’t wobble like his did. Maybe he’d exacerbate the faulty leg on his desk just enough to break it so that Charlie had to buy a new one. Maybe, just maybe, with the extra money that he was reeling in with ‘Will Intentions’, Charlie would be able to afford a new desk for him.

           The watch, in all of its glory, would have surely been able to remind him to feel excited about such things like new desks and a popular column. He refused to look to his wrist where its absence needled.

           “It’s not our problem, but…” But? Will looked down the hall where the conference room was. His spit was rust, and he swallowed raggedly. “I feel…responsible for her. It’s not our problem, but I can’t just…”

           Just? He swallowed again, harder, then looked at her plaintively. He thought of clocks and time and how it was both his master and his mercy, and he wondered just how much of Abigail’s time had been consumed with Will Graham and all of his behaviors as of late. She’d even looked into his college years, for fuck’s sake. Surely, in her thoroughness, he could give her something?

           “Good hell, Graham, if I didn’t know better I’d say that you care about her,” Beverly said, and her merciful smile encouraged him to smile, too.

           “I don’t care about much, but she’s just a kid. If you don’t let her stay with you, then I’m going to have to ask Freddie.”

           That did the trick. At the mention of Freddie, Beverly’s smile turned sour, and she looked back to Freddie’s office with an expression verging on hostile.

           “She won’t let go of the fact that you let her help you with the last riddle,” she complained. As an afterthought, “If I have to hear about that room for the deaf one more time…”

           “She forced herself into the situation, and I was pressed for time,” Will replied quickly. “I asked for your help all of the other times, and it was you that I wanted for the gala.”

           The Gala. The Ripper. He thought of how it’d felt, the Ripper’s hand over his eyes, blinding him because he was allowing himself to be blind.

           This is the most fun you’ve had in years.

           “So now it’s me that you want to babysit an eighteen-year-old whose father ate innocent women?” Beverly clarified.

           “Yeah, I thought about my apartment, but…”

           He didn’t have to finish that thought. They shared grimaces with one another, and Beverly leaned back in her chair, flipping and turning a pen about. It was a nice make, something with an angled and sharp nib. Likely it’d give a good flourish to notation, the curve of a ‘g’ or ‘y’ looping and graceful. It was probably sharp enough to stab, given the need, too. He wondered if she wrote in passing after work, or if journalism was the only writing that she needed. He wondered if she struggled the same way as he did with adjectives, with the right sort of pace to keep readers just interested enough to want more. He wondered if her purple prose fell flat –surely not, with a pen like that.

           “I’ll take her, Graham, but I’m not babysitting her. She’s going to get a job, she’s going to start working towards something, and then we’ll come up with a new plan,” Beverly said at last. “I have a heart, but I’m not a charity case. I don’t want kids yet.”

           “I promise that she’s not much of a kid.”

           “Charlie’s at a lunch meeting that ran late,” she said, and her smile curled devilishly at the edges. “I told him that you have a heart condition that you don’t like to talk about; that’s why you were late. If you stay out of his way when he gets back, he won’t have your head.”

           “Thank you,” he replied sincerely.

           “You owe me,” she said, pointedly.

           Will figured that he owed her for more than that, though. He owed Beverly for a lot of things, from lying to accidentally giving a good lead to someone like Freddie. He owed her for the late hours, the danger, and the fact that as she’d strolled about the steps of the gala, The Chesapeake Ripper had dared to ask Will how he’d kill her.

           I’d much prefer for you to use your bare hands.

           He left her with her fountain pen and a desk whose left leg didn’t wobble, and he sat at his desk for some time, thinking. The time on the computer said 2:56, but it didn’t feel like the early afternoon. He’d missed breakfast. He’d missed lunch. He’d missed water. He’d missed another cup of coffee. Will fished out a packet of stale peanuts and choked them down, staring at the time. His wrist was bare, his thoughts were scattered, and as he chewed morosely he wondered if the Chesapeake Ripper only wanted to ruin his day, or if he had anything else in store since taking his watch.

           The thought that followed after, was: and just what the hell are you going to do about it?

           It wasn’t until 3:29 that he collected himself to begin checking e-mails. Serial killer, serial killer, serial killer. Questions, questions, questions. Accusations, accusations, accusations. Time was bleeding from him, and a headache was setting in. He’d forgotten to get water. That thought, much like others, struck him, then fell away after little force. He still didn’t get up to get water.

           Then:

To: Will Graham & Co.,

           I hope that you enjoyed the overture. I imagined something along the F-Harmonic scale, although music in all of its intricacies gives room for creative differences.

                                                                                                                       -Another Avid Fan

           He stared at the e-mail for far longer than he should have. In the chaotic jumble of his thoughts, Will felt the strains of a fading song, something beautiful and haunting. Hadn’t he also thought of the music along the F-Harmonic range as he’d stared at the body? Had Jack Crawford witnessed him seeing so deeply? So intimately?

           Are serial killers your muse?

           He thought about forwarding it to Beverly, another olive branch since the writer had even bothered to include Co. Will Graham and Company. It could have been a sitcom, if there was anything remotely funny about people whose throats now occupied the neck of a cello.

           There was something personal in the way the person had included another to their signature, though, that stayed his fingers from clicking the ‘Fwd.’ icon. Another Avid Fan. Not a fan of Tattler News. Not a fan of Will Graham and Company. The first avid fan was a fan of Will. Another avid fan surely felt the same, too. Did they see him swaying to the song? Did they linger in the crowd, watching him try to break free of the line to go inside? Did they mark him with Jack as he was given entry past the partitions?

           He printed a copy for himself, then deleted the original. Will told himself that it was because of Jack that he didn’t tell anyone –he’d promised not to entertain another psychopath in the papers, after all. In truth, as he headed back to the conference room in order to tell Abigail that she didn’t have to sleep at a homeless camp, he figured that out of anyone else in the world, the last person that he should have to lie to was himself.

#LiaS scribbles #Ill Intentions #Dark!Will #Grey!Will #Journalist!Will #hannigram #hannigram fanfic #slowburn hannigram #hannibal au #hannibal fanfic #I'd say someone help will graham #but that'd be a god damn lie

[justwritingscibbles]

Release the Puppos!

Ok, first of all, fuck this illness!  Secondly, I felt bad for not posting the past few days because this Tumblr is sorta part of a schedule I put up for myself and I want to keep too it!!! 

Anyway, while I was wasting away in bed I thought up a few fics I wanted to write.  Please forgive me if my writing is a little wonky; I have literally gulped half a bottle of cough medicine. So I’m a little sleepy and drowsy. Probably not a good idea but I couldn’t find a measuring cup or anything.

This one is just a little Markiplier fic where you’re a subscriber of Mark’s channel and you go to the meet-up with some hairy companions.  Enjoy! 

(Y/D/N)- Young dogs name. (O/D/N)- Older dog’s name. (Y/T/N)- Your Twitter nickname/ or social media nickname

You have always wanted to go to a meet-up. Not only to see Mark but also to meet some of the other subs.  You were always commenting on Mark’s tweets and sometimes even posting some fan-art. People started following you and you started chatting.  You wouldn’t say you were popular or well-known in Mark’s community, but you had a fair number of people following you on most social medias because of him. Every so often he’d retweet one of your artworks and you contributed to his charity live-streams too. Once, he had called out your name excitedly and yelled,  ”That’s the person that draws awesome me pictures!”

Mark had tweeted another location for a meet-up. A park not far from your home.  But as always, you were stuck and unable to go. Usually it was work, school, even family had become an obstacle. But today, it was two large dogs who were currently snoozing on the lounge-room floor.  You sighed and wrote your reply on Mark’s twitter;

“I’m dog-sitting and can’t leave them alone! Can I bring the puppos?” 

You knew you wouldn’t get a reply from the Youtuber himself, but you added a photo of the dogs anyway.  The largest dog, (Y/D/N), a big brown shaggy hound with golden eyes, lifted his head just as you took the photo. The result was adorable. His floppy ears were propped up and his head tilted slightly.  The slightly smaller dog, (O/D/N), an elderly Labrador, continued to snooze, completely ignoring your calls to lift his head. You posted the tweet and continued to scroll through your phone.  It wasn’t long before your notifications started beeping. You checked your Twitter, finding people were reposting your tweet and replying to the photo. 

“Awww! So cute! You have to bring them!” 

“This is unacceptable! You can’t miss out on another meet-up!” 

“I want those dogs!”

You smiled at each Tweet and tried replying. More and more re-tweets and replies came and you got fed up with notifications, so you turned them off.  You ignored Twitter for some time, already jealous with the fans who were going. You’ll probably see what was happening in a video on Mark’s channel in the next few days. You checked your Twitter one last time; amazed at the number of retweets you had received in the short space of time.

“Keep retweeting so Mark can see this!” 

“I’ll show him when I get there!” 

“Everyone show Mark and make him see the puppies!” 

You laughed at each one and went through the list liking them.  Then, your phone vibrated with a DM from Twitter and you almost let out a squeal when you read the message. 

“YOU BETTER BRING THOSE PUPPOS OR I’M GOING TO KIDNAP THEM!”  Tweeted from Markiplier. 

You spent almost no time leaping from your couch, grinning like a lunatic as you ran about the house finding your shoes and actually getting out of your PJs for once. Upon grabbing the dog-leashes (Y/D/N) bounded over to you, barking excitedly. You looped the clip around his collar and did the same to (O/D/N).  You were practically dragged out of the house by (Y/D/N) with (O/D/N) trotting behind you.  The park was a few blocks away and the closer you got, the more nervous you were becoming.  What if someone there was allergic to dogs? Or someone was scared of dogs? Maybe this was a bad idea, I mean (Y/D/N) could accidentally knock someone over or (O/D/N) could get agitated with someone and growl at them.  But it was already too late. By the time you had the thought to turn around and retreat home, you were on the outskirts of the park and the mass of people had spotted you.  “Oh my God, it’s the puppies!” You heard someone cry. Your nerves escalated as the crowd turned to you and started shouting excitedly.  But you couldn’t help but smile as you started towards them. (Y/D/N) started tugging against his leash, his tail wagging madly.  “Release the puppos!” You heard a familiar voice bellow. You shrugged and trapped (Y/D/N) between your legs as you unclipped him from his collar.  “Brace yourselves!” You called as (Y/D/N) galloped towards the hoards of screaming people.  He crashed into the many legs, almost drowning under reaching fingers and gentle pets.  A few people approached you, politely greeting you and asking if they could pat (O/D/N). You nodded and they crouched beside the older dog, who lazily wagged their tail and panted happily.  “So, your (Y/T/N)!” Mark said with a wide smile.  “Hi! I couldn’t bear losing my dogs to a kidnapper, so I had to bring them.”  The man laughed and crouched down beside (O/D/N) to give them a gentle scratch behind the ear.  “A lot of people here didn’t want you missing out.” He continued to speak to you from the ground. “I’ve always wanted to meet you as well. Your art is amazing.”  You blushed and chuckled, “Well, my muse is pretty inspirational.”  Mark flashed you a brilliant smile and stood, gesturing to the crowd.  “Well, come meet everyone. We were about to start the video.” 

You followed Mark into the middle of the park, where (Y/D/N) was running around, almost overwhelmed with excitement. A few people were chasing after him, seeming to play tag with the dog.  Then (Y/D/N) found, what you guessed was Mark’s bag, and removed a football from it.  “Hey!” Mark yelled, starting towards the pup. “That’s mine!”  (Y/D/N) started running. His ears flapped like wings as he bounded away from the man. Everyone started laughing as Mark gave chase. He tried leaping onto the dog, even tried herding him towards the crowd, but (Y/D/N) seemed to dodge every hand as they made a grab for the ball.  You laughed along with everyone else. Enjoying the comical show that was unfolding in front of you. Finally, you thought it had gone on for long enough and you whistled loudly. The hound skidded to a stop, his golden eyes fixed on you with a quizzical stare.  “Give it here,” You ordered, keeping your voice friendly.  (Y/D/N) trotted over to you, his ears slanted backwards and his eyes mischievous. He slowed as he neared you, lifting his head up slightly to place the ball in your hand. “Don’t you dare,” You warned, but before your fingers could find purchase, (Y/D/N) had jumped back and started running.  But he ran straight into Mark’s legs and the man caught hold of the dog’s collar and plucked the toy from his jaws.  Cheers flooded the park as Mark lifted the ball up like a trophy. Grinning wildly.  “Markimoo- 1, doggo- 0″ Mark smirked and booped (Y/D/N) on his wet nose. He looked rather disappointed, but wagged his tail none-the-less. 

As Mark set up the cameras and arranged the crowd as he needed, you had found a nice spot under a tree to watch.  Others had joined you, too nervous or anxious to join in the activities. But the small group around you were happy stroking your dogs fur and laughing at what Mark was making the others do.  You weren’t sure what was happening. It had started off as a game of tag, then evolved into stick-in-the-mud, then the ball came in as the crowd formed a circle. Mark was in the centre kicking the ball as high into the air as he could for someone to catch.  Those who caught it, had to make up a ridiculous dance routine and make animal noises to go with it. At one point, Mark had kicked the ball but it struck the toes of his shoes and the object flew in a unexpected arc. It had almost hit you as it came tumbling through the canopy of the tree. You saved yourself by slapping it away, but managed to accidentally hit (O/D/N).  “Oh no! I’m so sorry!” You cooed, cradling the dog’s head as if you had seriously injured it. Mark over-exaggerated the situation by running over and dramatically throwing himself in front of the dog, begging their forgiveness and apologizing profusely.  (O/D/N) looked very confused, and responded by gently tapping Mark’s bowed head, as if to say  “You are forgiven, loud-one” Mark laughed and returned to the circle. 

The whole situation was cringey and amazing all at the same time.  Finally, when the time of the meet-up was nearing its end, Mark ushered your group up and into the middle of the park.  “Right, now it’s your turn!” He told you and you quickly panicked as he kicked the ball into the air. You instinctively watched it soar skywards and you angled yourself so when it plummeted back to earth, you caught it in your hands, cradling it on your chest.  People cheered and Mark grinned broadly, “You have to make up a dance sequence now!” Groaning, you dropped the ball and started krumping. It was sloppy, and your cheeks glowed red from embarrassment, but people were laughing and cheering you on.  When was the last time you even danced? A loooong time, a voice at the back of your head replied. “You have to make an animal noise!” Someone in the back reminded you.  You rolled your eyes and turned to (Y/D/N), “Howl!”  Weeks of training paid off as (Y/D/N) lifted back his head and started to howl. A long deep sound that you started dancing too. A few others followed your lead, and soon you had a large group of people boogie around (Y/D/N).  Like some weird ritual, everyone started making strange howling noises and you couldn’t help but laugh. It was all so ridiculous!  Finally, Mark hushed everyone and told them that it was time to back up.  You said your goodbyes and clipped your dogs back on their leashes.  Before you started walking home, someone gently touched your shoulder and you turned to face Mark.  “It was really nice to meet you, (Y/T/N)” He said with a small smile. “I hope you come to the next meet-up.”  “Of course!” You beamed, “And my name is (Y/N) by the way.”  “It was a pleasure meeting you, (Y/N). We’ll have to meet up another time.” He winked at you and shouldered his bag, heading towards his car.  You couldn’t help but smile and you quickly turned away so no one could see you blushing.

I’m gonna go to bed now! Hope you enjoyed!

#Markiplier #puppos! #one-shots #a little fluff

[seafoam-mermaid]

Does anyone want to give a bully on here a taste of her own medicine?

I was scared and hesitant to post this because a) I didn't want that horrid monster coming after me and b) I know no one is going to read it because it's so insanely long but I have decided I will. And honestly I just kind of want to delete my tumblr blog even though I’ve had it for more than seven years because I’m just so hurt :’( I’m too sensitive and unstable and borderline for this shit. Especially right now with so many things wrong in my life. My dog has cancer, there's no money for his treatment, I've been unemployed for way too long and have no money left (no money to help my dog, my to pay for anything even the most basic things, and to get help and treatment for all of my very severe and crippling mental disorders, there's barely even any money for food), I'm bitterly and unbearably lonely and depressed and have watched everyone abandon me and forget about me, and I just recently got abandoned by the same person again. Everything has been so unbearable for so long and I just didn't need all of this hate and drama on top of it all.

I can’t believe these are the kind of people tumblr is filled with. Hateful, petty, childish pieces of shit that act like high- schoolers and go out of their way to be hurtful and then cry and play the part of the victim when confronted. I hate that I basically now have to be in hiding and afraid of more harassment and bullying even though I changed my url, disabled comments, and closed my inbox. It (that bitch) could still find me. She's always going to know my url no matter how many times I change it. I’m so afraid. I shouldn’t have to be afraid on tumblr and on my own blog. All because of this piece of shit bitch that plastered my url on her blog, hell bent on slandering me and getting all of her gullible and lackey followers to come on to my blog and send me hate too. How fucking high school can you get. How fucking SHIT do you have to be??? Preaching ~love and kindness~ and then slandering me in a very public place and threatening to call the police on me because she claims that a) I told her to go kill herself ((which I did NOT. I don’t know who that was but it was NOT me. I did call her a bitch (only because she refused to even acknowledge my genuine apology  which I DID NOT EVEN OWE HER BECAUSE I AM ALLOWED TO POST WHATEVER I WANT ON MY OWN BLOG, but was so rapt and attentive towards all the other ones from her followers putting me down) but I did NOT tell her to kill herself so right there, another flat out LIE)) and b) to have my IP address (which I feel is another invasion of privacy.) She should not have access to my address and it's bullshit and grossly invasive.

How fucking hypocritical can you get??? I’m too old for this childish high school bullshit. I’m too old and too tired. What a downright fucking cunt. But I am so wound up and agitated and upset right now and just want to GET IT OUT. Since clearly I am never going to get my justice. I have no idea how I'm going to sleep. I already stayed up so many other nights from the fear and anxiety that I would wake up to hate messages. I did absolutely nothing wrong. I say that with complete confidence, which is saying a lot because I’m never confident at all. I would gladly show anyone the goddamn fucking tags that she claims were so “offensive.” I am not afraid or guilty in the smallest amount. I don't even regret making the comment because there was LITERALLY NOTHING offensive about it. And even if this deluded bitch DID get offended, she could have quietly unfollowed me. I wouldn't have given a shit and that would have been the end of that. What made me so angry was that she went out of her way to send me a meanly worded message, ordering me to be nice, on my own fucking blog. As if I owed her that. As if I owed her anything.

And I actually DEGRADED myself by apologizing for something I shouldn’t even have had to apologize for in the first place. I was trying to be the bigger and more mature person, unlike her, and unlike how she was accusing me of the complete opposite. Just the very fact that she kept on posting all of the drama publicly proves her massive immaturity. All of this could have been handled PRIVATELY, as I had intended to do so to begin with. I only requested that she take down my url from her post as a) I did not and have not ever mentioned her url on my own blog and b) it was causing me great anxiety, distress, and fear of her followers coming after me (which a few actually did and I had to block them), but all she did was ignore me and kept on publicly posting my pleas (which clearly were very agitated - so much for the kindness she was so vehemently preaching) so she would keep on getting all of her praise and applause from her clearly retarded followers.

I just want justice. She gets to get away with this and will keep on receiving her praise for bullying and harassing me and I have to just be terrified because my blog is nowhere near as famous as hers and of course I have no one to defend me, as I have so few followers and kept the drama completely off my blog anyway. I’m so angry and hurt and upset. She deserves to be shut down but I know tumblr won’t do anything at all. I can’t stand feeling this powerless. I’m having a legitimate panic attack and I want to cry. I wish there was an option to deactivate instead. And to have the power to shut down someone’s blog. I’m just too scared and upset right now. All because I got upset over being told what to think and say on my own blog. Her message was NOT kindly as she claimed it was. It was rude and almost as if she was ordering me to remove the tags she thought were so offensive. Only it wasn’t even anything offensive at all. I didn’t hurt anyone at all. No one else got offended. If it bothered her so much she could have just quietly unfollowed me and it would have ended there, I wouldn't have cared at all, but she had to go out of her way and tell me what to do on my own blog in a very rude tone. Of course that made me angry, anyone would have gotten angry. Throw on top of that my cocktail of various mental illnesses and of course I got extremely angry. Yet even then. I still DID NOT call her out by name. Like she did to me. This piece of shit HYPOCRITE.

And even more pathetically, the fact that she SAW my angry post about how I didn't deserve her message or any of her bullshit. She had already unfollowed me. So for her to have seen it means that she was literally sitting at her computer, refreshing my blog obsessively, to see what or if I would say anything in response to her very rude and unsolicited message. HOW PATHETIC. And yet another invasion of privacy. She had already UNFOLLOWED me. Of course I wouldn't have made the post if she had still been following me. And furthermore, the point is I DIDN'T MENTION HER NAME OR URL EVEN ONCE IN THE ENTIRE GODDAMN POST. NOWHERE ON MY ENTIRE BLOG IS OR WAS THERE MENTION OF HER URL. So even though it made her upset, it's not like I was publicly calling her out and humiliating her. Nothing like what she did to me. No one knew who I was talking about. It could have been anyone. And no one saw the post anyway because I have such few followers to begin with.

What a sad and truly pathetic person. To sit at home all day and do nothing but tell people what to do while hiding behind the mask of anonymous, then crying and wailing and blubbering when she gets confronted about her rudeness and bullying, and turning to her pathetic and abusive followers to not only praise her for her actions but to get them to come after me too. How. Pathetic. I don’t ever get involved in stuff like this. I always go on tumblr and vent and scream and cry and rant because it’s the only place I can do so, and no one ever cares, and that’s that. I never set out to intentionally hurt anyone and if I do ever vent about someone in my life or that I knew I never mention names and they don’t follow me on here or anything. But now I feel afraid. This is all so shit and so unfair to me. I don’t want to have to close down my seven year old blog all because of what some truly awful bitch and cunt on tumblr did.

I just can’t believe that all of this is due to what someone that preaches softness, kindness, and love but is the complete opposite of all of that did. Nothing but a hypocritical, cruel, and pathetic bully. She never even apologized ONCE for all she caused. This is just TOO MUCH for me. I wish there was something I could do. To cause her as much harm and suffering and distress as she caused me. It’s what she fucking deserves :’(

#i wish someone could go into her inbox and give her what she deserves #i wish she could have been shut down #i wish she could suffer and receive hate and have to suffer as much as i have #personal