#let people make their own fuckin decisions with their own fuckin body

[rskbunny]

whiny bitches who think a community with an addiction helpin each other do things in the safest way are gross can go fuck themselves as if people aren't gonna try anyways in probably more dangerous ways if no one tells them how

#shblr #sh blog #baby cvts #selfharn #self mutilation #text #sh #mine #get out of the fuckin sh tags if yer just gonna whine straight to out face #and no I don't care how you personally feel abt what others are doin to their own body that doesn't fuckin effect you #you aren't that important #ppl who cut themselves are not the enemy nor are they poor lost little lambs. they're people. #let people make their own fuckin decisions with their own fuckin body #and I'm tired of ppl postin in the tags abt ohhhh look how recovered I am. no one here cares. go to recovery places #if you want someone to care. yer not showin us some holy light yer just annoyin and gonna get blocked #I don't plan to stop cuttin and I'm tired of ppl shovin it down my throat that they think it's wrong #it makes me happy and its my goddamn body leave me alone and stop yer propaganda #if I wasn't in sh communties I'd probably not do all the safety practices I do now. leave us alone. #and if any1 looks at me with pity I'm gonna maul them. I can't stand it.

[sttoru]

boob obsessed!gojo please!!

oh absolutelyyyy !

tags. gojo satoru x female reader. breast play, teasing, semi-public, satoru’s v touchy, uhh cum play, mention of blow job, boob job.

satoru , who you have labelled as one of the most shameless people you have ever dated. you’ve known the guy had a thing for your tits the moment the two of you had gotten intimate.

his big hands were all over the swell of your breasts, long fingers kneading and squeezing the flesh. you can always spot the way his pupils dilate whenever he gets the chance of touching them. if you squint well enough, you might even see him drooling a bit whenever he notices the flesh of your breasts and how it bulges when the two are pressed together. and if it isn’t his hands touching those beautiful tits? it’s his tongue.

“mm, god—need ‘m in my mouth. need to taste those tits of yours, princess. c’mon. lemme suck on those nipples.”

satoru , who’s favourite position to cuddle is when he’s laying on your chest. his head will rest between your breasts, one cheek squished against the flesh and fingers usually tracing the shapes of your tits. if you’re not wearing a bra of some kind, he’ll definitely take the opportunity to tease you and circle one of your nipples through the fabric. he just loves the feeling of making you shiver due to his touches.

also, always finds a way to tell you how he ‘loves how squishy and soft they are’. claims they’re even softer than any plushies you own as well.

satoru , who you’ve caught many times staring down at your breasts whenever you’re wearing something skintight or revealing. he can’t help it, it’s his favourite part of your body. somebody needs to save that man, because he’ll literally get lost in thought and won’t even realise he’s ogling your tits.

if it’s not you catching him staring and playfully scolding him for it, it’s his students (who’d probably be disgusted by their teacher’s behaviour in front of their poor eyes). and yes—even in public, satoru’s a complete fool for you and your figure.

satoru , who loves to suck on your tits one way or another. whenever he’s fucking you, he always prefers a position where your chest is facing him. that way, he can see, touch, squeeze and suck on those breasts of yours. he doesn’t waste a single second and immediately latches onto your nipples, wet tongue gliding over your areola, eyes closed and throat making whiny noises.

one thing that never fails to make him rock hard is when you’re walking around the house without a bra on. for you it’s a simple decision; your bra sometimes gets too suffocating on your body. for satoru on the other hand, it’s impossible to ignore the urges in him once his eyes fall on the shape of your nipples that poke through the fabric of your clothes.

that’s also how you end up with his hands all over you every time. one day it’ll be his hands gliding under your shirt to grope your tits, the other day he’ll be more direct and yank your shirt off, put you on the counter and suck on them like there’s no tomorrow.

“nhhh, stay still— ah, shit.. so fuckin’ good. these things were just beggin’ to get sucked on. hm? ‘sensitive’ you say? even better.”

satoru , who enjoys the way your tits glisten when he’s cumming all over them. he loves to see the white liquid drizzle down the curves, over your nipples down to your stomach. if you’re giving him a blowjob, he’ll probably tap your head softly to signal that he’s about to reach his climax. that way you know that he wants to cum over your tits instead of down your throat.

probably instantly gets hard again at the sight of you covered in his sticky cum.

“mm, look at you, sitting there on your knees with my cum all over those pretty tits. aht aht, don’t move now, need to take a picture of the sight for future use.”

satoru , who turns into a trembling and moaning mess whenever you offer to give him a boob job. he’ll let shaky curse words escape the back of his throat, his hands clutching onto whatever he can find, his head thrown back a little but enough for his eyes to still be able to gaze down at you. he gets so turned on and will probably lose the ability to speak whenever he looks at how his cock is engulfed by your tits.

“jus’ like that, baby— oh fuck! look at those fuckin’ tits, mmh, makes me wanna cover ‘m with my cum so bad— shit, can i? may i?”

#sttoru writes. #jjk smut #gojo smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #jjk x you #gojo x you

[starfxkr]

jj w a corruption kink hasn't left my mind lately .... just imagine him getting w the "good girl" of obx (a literal angel) & obviously everyone's telling her that he's no good for her, she needs to find someone better, etc etc but she just can't get where they're coming from when he fucks her so good every night ???

ohhh ima make this a drabble but im kinda into this concept…kinda wanna expand on it mayhaps…

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

everybody seemed to just constantly be in your business. left and right people were telling you they couldnt believe you let yourself get wrapped up with jj maybank of all people. you knew about his reputation, to say he ran through girls like a track meet would be an understatement, but he told you he only had eyes for you and he meant that. once he finally got his hands on you it was like nobody else wxisted. it was like nobody trusted you to think for yourself or make your own decisions. nobody trusted you except jj. anytime someone tried to steer you away from him it just drove you further into his arms, making sure to recount everything that was said to him.

you loved how he indulged your less than innocent desires— which just so happened to be what people warned you against. the first time you smoked weed was after you complained to him about your mom saying he reeked of it when he picked you up, pouting “i dont even know why she cares its not like I’m the one smoking.” that same night he dropped you back off higher than a fuckin kite. all the body mist in the world couldnt cover the pot smell.

he also wasnt allowed in your room without the door being open, which you thought was stupid and usess because that never stopped him. like now, he had a hand clasped over your mouth while he dug you out right in the line of sight of your kitchen.

“shh babydoll you gotta be quiet, unless you want your mom to see her baby girl getting slutted out right here.” he punctuates it with a particularly hard thrust, forcing a high pitch whine out of you.

frantically you shake your head, not sure if its because you dont wanna be caught or dont want him to stop.

“nah i think you do, youre fuckin drownin me babe.” the loud squelch of your pussy just confirms his teasing, a creamy ring of your arousal sits at the thick base of his dick. “if i didn’t know any better, i’d say im corrupting you. turned you into a little slut huh?”

#✨.txt #jj maybank prompt

[kindredtarot]

❛❛What you need to balance right now?❜❜

› ♡˖°꒰ Pick a pile

✦; Pile : 1 ˎˊ˗❞

6 of swords, 10 of pentacles, 7 of stones, queen of arrows, 2 of cups.

“I'm just really fuckin' selfish and really fuckin' lost. But someone loved me, someone fucking loved me. Someone fucking loved me and I fuckin' loved them too. Goddamn it, I was worth something, I fuckin' learned something. I had my cake (I ate it, it ate me too and, God, no)” — Feel Better by Penelope Scott

You need to balance your timely actions and patience. It looks like you are transitioning to a new stage in your life because you want to advance and achieve what you want. Are you choosing to leave behind old relationships? Probably a hard decision emotionally, but something you felt you had to do to protect yourself. “Can’t heal in the same environment that wounds me”. You want stability, finally. Maybe you want it before but insisted to try having it with people that wouldn’t give it to you. But now you are making steps towards it, starting with the choice to move on. You want to have a stable foundation financially and/or with your family, a place that you can actually call home and mot having to worry about having to protect yourself and your feelings 24/7. And you can get it, you just need to have patience with your healing journey. 

You are going in the right direction. I know leaving people that you really cared about hurts and it might take some months or a year, but continue to take care of yourself, physically, emotionally, and mentally. It’s okay to let your mind remember and miss past moments sometimes, and to cry your heart out. Blocking those things would just make it harder in the long run, and you might already know that deep down. Resting and not doing nothing doesn’t mean your are giving up, take your time to get ready to continue towards what you want. Taking care of yourself will clear your mind and would help you communicate better and making better decisions towards your relationships with others and your possessions/money. I can see your relationships improving, with yourself and others, actual soul-touching connections. Maybe you always wanted a soul family, a group of friends that were like family or a healthy family life, whatever it was, I can see this area of your life improving and beautifully too. Just take priority and improve your relationship with yourself first and foremost, so you are ready with strong boundaries and understanding of what you truly want to start deep connections with others too.

✦; Pile : 2 ˎˊ˗❞

page of wands, 3 of pentacles, death, the tower, queen of pentacles, 3 of wands in reverse.

“Do you ever see someone and think "Wow, they got lucky", the craftsmanship of their bones, their brain, and their body. When I look into the mirror for too long it hurts, they don't track how many steps it takes to burn off dessert. Do you ever see someone and think "Wow, they got lucky". I'll let 'em take accountability. For everything that's wrong with me. Can't hold myself responsible. So I'll blame the metaphysical. If Jesus died for all our sins. He left one behind, the body I'm in. Same hands that made the moon and the stars. Got carpal tunnel and forgot some parts” — God must hate me by Catie Turner

You need to balance how you view others vs yourself. You might put people in a pedestal and put yourself down unconsciously. You seem to be someone with so many ideas and plans, wild imagination! (You might be an artist). Someone that sees the “impossible” and is sure it could become possible! A really exciting and active person, whether that’s physically or mentally. You might like working in group or just admire people. They seems really interesting, so many new perspective. And they are talented too, in their own way. Maybe your achievements don’t seem as valuable to you just because you are admiring other people that seem to just have everything else you want. You have a lot too, in your life you were resilient. You sometimes might think you are giving up too easily but you are resilient. You are still going, aren’t you? Still trying or planning to get better and get to your goals. Don’t forget to look back to your past to realize how far you’ve come, how much you had learned. Just because all the things you had achieve aren’t as visible to others like what you see outside of yourself, doesn’t mean they don’t exist or are less. 

Others seems so cool to you, and forget you are cool too. Do you have a lot of unfinished projects? So many ideas but maybe don’t fully follow through with them. And others seem to have their shit together already, finishing what they started. Instead of discouraging yourself, try observing the things you admire from those people and take what could help you keep going. Maybe you have problems with planning your projects or stay stuck on just planning instead of actually starting them. This unbalance in your views of others and yourself has to “die” to start building something better that would work for you. It won’t be easy to fix something that got stuck so deep in your subconscious but it is possible! It would make you feel really frustrated or confuse at the start, because a  lot of beliefs that you had would be breaking and making you rethinks them and what you are doing with your actions. And that’s okay! Because you would understand yourself better and see you for who you truly are. A really cool creative person. You would nourishing more your creative mind, projects, and collaborations with people. You would start to work as a team, truly this time, because you would finally see yourself just as valuable as those who you admire are. And you would also go through your projects, because you would commit to them now. I can see you caring so much more about your projects in a practical way, and growing success and financial stability because of it. You might have setbacks after committing with your projects because you don’t really know how to advance with them, but those setbacks are gonna be temporary, so have patience with yourself. Every mistakes teaches a lesson, remember them for any future obstacle. And remember to ask for help when you need it too!

✦; Pile : 3 ˎˊ˗❞

5 of swords, ace of wands, 4 of cups, ace of pentacles, 10 of swords.

“Spider-boy, king of thieves. Weave your little webs of opacity. My pennies made your crown. Trick me once, trick me twice. Don't you know that cash ain't the only price? It's coming back around. And I keep my side of the street clean. You wouldn't know what I mean. 'Cause karma is my boyfriend. Karma is a god. Karma is the breeze in my hair on the weekend. Karma's a relaxing thought. Aren't you envious that for you it's not? Sweet like honey, karma is a cat. Purring in my lap 'cause it loves me. Flexing like a goddamn acrobat. Me and karma vibe like that” — Karma by Taylor Swift

You need to balance your thoughts, desires, and actions. You have to stop acting with your ego. Stop playing with your luck… I feel like you could have so many things but you might be impulsive and make moves that you know you shouldn’t be doing because they aren’t planned or because it might be tripping someone else and not even getting you nothing valuable at the end of it. You might be a little stubborn about this, maybe prefer not to follow “rules” or are scare of doing so because you think it might not work for you? Instead of making risky decision that barely give you anything or sometimes nothing at all. Try taking your time planning and making decision that even if they succeed or not, they would still level you up. 

You have so much potential and a vision as well. But you can’t just go about it without planning nothing at all! Like trying to make a spark into a fire. You need to blow towards the spark correctly, if you don’t, you lose it and you don’t get the fire. And then your motivation is left on the cold. I understand the frustration, but don’t forget about what you have already. You can try to create a fire in the first place because you have the materials already. And you might receive a lot of opportunities that could help you but you don’t take them seriously because they aren’t up to your expectations or because you rush into them without thinking in what ways they could be helpful to you. Whatever it is, you are self sabotaging. You could help yourself up towards what you wants or you could destroy everything on your way. You actions are part of you, so think them through. You are constantly stabbing yourself with fear. Getting overwhelm and falling from exhaustion. Remember, the only thing that you can control is your actions and reactions. So don’t give power to fear and anxiety. Once you release that, you can hold your own power yourself and utilize it to make the right decisions. On choosing what you want, how you want it and how you are going to get it.

Don’t be scare of your potential and stop unleashing your decisions on others. karma might comeback later on to bite you in the back, but play your cards right and it could be your biggest helper! Just keep going and focus on doing better. 

#pick a pile #pick a card #tarot reading #intuitive readings #spirituality #channeled reading #channeled message #pac #tarot community #free tarot

[wakandas-vibranium]

Wednesday Nights || Part Four

Pairing: pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: canon typical violence, time skip, angst, fluff

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: Sorry if this chapter seems a bit choppy. I am not a fan of time skips. Four chapters down, one more to go. Thank y'all for reading. Please like, comment, and share!

part one

part two

part three

part five

“Mom!” 

You awakened with a jolt, in a cold sweat in your new living quarters. You'd been suffering the same nightmare for 20 years. You had to witness your mother turn and attack your father, turning him. Then, before they could attack and turn you, they were both gunned down. 

That was 20 years ago and you still weren’t fully recovered. Your luck finally started to come through these last six months. 

You were walking alone in the winter cold. The cold air was stinging on your skin as you traveled down the icy river. 

Six people on horses surrounded you and grilled you so badly that you thought they were going to kill you. One of the men on the horses yanked his bandana down over his face and screamed your name so loudly that he startled the horses and a few of the others with him.

“Y/N!” Tommy called as he hopped down from his horse, running over to you. Even though his hair was longer and he'd grown a beard, you recognized Tommy right away.

The blood rushed to your face so quickly that you almost passed out. You thought he was dead. You assumed all three of them were all dead. You peered over Tommy's shoulder at the other riders as he drew you into a crushing hug. You didn't see Joel. Was Joel still alive? Was he even here with Tommy?

You rode back with Tommy on his horse, relieved to be off your feet. You'd been walking for weeks. You were in the dining hall eating with Tommy and his new wife, Maria. She was gorgeous and a little intimidating, but she made small talk. 

You couldn’t help but notice her body language and the way her lips would thin into a straight line and shoulders would tense at any mention of Joel. Tommy let you know as soon as possible that Sarah didn’t make it. You felt your heart drop to your stomach, but managed to keep it together. Before today, you already assumed she died. 

“It’s not like your brother is the best at making decisions,” Maria mumbled, fighting back an eye roll. 

Tommy was sharing with you some of the things he and Joel had to do in order to survive. You’d done similar things and a few worse things. You weren’t one to judge and you weren’t going to judge Tommy and Joel. They were the only family you had left. 

“And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?” You snapped, no longer able to ignore the jabs Maria kept taking at Joel. 

And the fact that Tommy just sat there and let her insult his brother really pissed you off. Not so much Tommy, but Maria's uppity demeanor got under your skin. Who the hell did she think she was? Good for her if she never had to stoop so low to survive in this shitty post-apocalyptic world. Good for fuckin' her, you thought.

Tommy leaned forward and whispered something into his wife's ear. She cringed and glanced at you before apologizing. Tommy opted to change the subject and asked you what happened to you on breakout day. 

“My parents turned right in front of me. Before I could even comprehend what was happenin’ to ‘em they were shot dead.” 

You remembered that day like it was yesterday. It was awful. Your parents were taken from you too fast. It was unfair. 

“Then I hauled ass across Austin to try and get to you, Joel and Sarah. None of you were answering your phones so I figured it must have been happening around y’all too.” 

You had a severe panic attack once you realized that you were well and truly on your own. You were lost. You didn’t know what to do without any of them. How were you supposed to survive in a world when your favorite five people no longer existed? 

“Eventually I ended up working with a small group of nine people to help find a cure for whatever this was. I worked with doctors, nurses, scientists on this. We were desperate to find a cure. Tommy, I’ve done things that I’m not proud of, but we’ve exhausted every single possibility and nothing. There is no cure for this.”

“Wow.” Tommy said, sighing deeply at your newfound news. He had held out hope that there was a cure, but he wasn’t shocked that there wasn’t one. 

Enough about you. Tommy told you that Joel was alive and I just missed him by a few weeks. 

“Where is Joel?” 

“Ellie—the young girl he’s with is immune. Joel took her to a hospital — a firefly post so that they could use Ellie’s blood to make a cure.” Tommy explained cooly. 

“What?” You uttered lowly. You had your fair share of run-ins with the fireflies. Enough for a lifetime, and each instance damn near cost you your life. You had the awful pleasure of meeting their leader, Marlene. She had an impressive right hook, but your left was a lot meaner. 

The nine people you'd been traveling with for the past 20 years were all dead.  The majority were killed by clickers, while the others were killed by firefly bombs. You were furious and alone. On a mission to find Marlene, the leader of the fireflies.

You were determined to kill her where she stood. You'd had a few run-ins with Marlene, and they always ended bloody.

You didn't belong to FEDRA or the Fireflies. You were part of a small group of surgeons, biologists, nurses, and medical researchers. You were the only immunologist on the team. Shortly after the outbreak, all nine of you got together to try to find a cure. You clung to them after you assumed Joel, Sarah, and Tommy were no longer alive. 

After your parents were killed, you attempted to drive across town to Joel's house, but the highway was already shut down. You'd also overheard from an officer that Joel's neighborhood was a hot zone full of infected people. You were devastated. You had no family left within a matter of hours.

You last saw her and her band of fireflies in Atlanta about a year ago. She ordered her men to blow up a couple buildings where you and the rest of your group were hiding from FEDRA. You barely escaped with your life. Everyone else who was with you died. Blown to smithereens.

“There is no fuckin’ cure, Tommy.” 

“But Joel said—“

“—Well whoever told Joel and Ellie that is a goddamn liar. They’re gonna kill that poor girl and it’ll have been for nothin’.” 

Tommy chewed on his lip, pondering your information. He was probably even more worried about his brother now. As he should be. Joel wasn’t safe with the fireflies. No one was. 

“Is there any way to contact them?” You asked, still hopeful.

“They’ve been gone for a month, Y/N,” Tommy admitted, hesitancy heavy in his voice, “Joel said they’d come back once they were finished.” 

“Hopefully Joel realizes that Ellie will die and they’ll come back.” Maria reasoned, shooting you a small smile. 

“This isn’t good.” You exhaled sharply.

Anyway, that was five months ago. You were still with them in Jackson. It was a safe community that actually thrived plus you weren’t going to give up the opportunity to see Joel again. 

You were with Tommy in Jackson for almost six months now and still no word from Joel or his whereabouts. 

You were starting to get discouraged. 

You didn’t know it, but off in the far distance, Joel and Ellie were making their way back to Jackson.

You just needed to hold on just a little while longer.

#this one was hard to write sorry I just couldn't find a groove #I make up for it with the next chapter though I PROMISE #joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #tlou joel #joel x reader #joel miller angst #tommy miller #tommy miller fluff #tommy miller angst #joel the last of us #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller series #joel miller smut

[abba-dabba]

I didn't have time for any art stuff so I'm posting a rant about how much I love the female characters in Fullmetal Alchemist instead

all the female characters in this show are Top Tier™ and I will not put up with that "they're bad because they're taking on masculine traits" bullshit because it's a stupid argument.

Trisha Elric? emotionally intelligent, loyal to her family, clearly the glue holding her family together, validates her hubby's feelings but doesn't let him wallow in his misery and makes sure he's as involved as he can be

Izumi Curtis? sees two wet orphans and pretends that she totally doesn't want to scoop them up and sign the adoption papers, was an awesome mentor to her kids but didn't hold them back, rescues her dumb kids even if it puts her in danger because they had to learn that somewhere ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Riza Hawkeye? joins the army and gets one of the most difficult positions available on her own merits, willingly mutilating her own body to make sure her father's research couldn't be replicated to hurt others, protective of everyone in her makeshift family and will not tolerate any bs even if it's coming from a superior, very good at picking things apart but won't always reveal her hand

Winry Rockbell? a literal medical genius who could get a med degree and make tons but chooses to hone other skills to get better at personal hobby, willing to trust her loved ones to make their own decisions, grows in her own time and willing to learn from people who know better without being a doormat

Olivia Armstrong? has no prejudice about who she accepts in her ranks, doesn't put up with any kind of bigotry, very intimidating but clearly has a soft spot for her brother because she will not accept any slander of him and will stick her neck out to help him, will not be swayed to do terrible things even if it benefits her personal goals, definitely will insult loved ones but would destroy someone for doing the same

Lust The Voracious? she is femme fatale personified, she knows she is hot and will use it to her advantage, she is intelligent and cares for her looks but not to the point of narcissism, she takes on the REAL leadership role from the homunculus because otherwise nothing would ever get done because NOBODY HELPS ME IN THIS FUCKIN HOUSE, she's completely evil and has no redemption arc because sometimes it's just neat to have an unsympathetic villain with no tragedy to justify their actions

Sheska? had such a damn good memory, is literally the only reason the Elric bros were able to discover the gov. conspiracy, is a totally awkward and relatable bookworm who really tries her best to do good by others without wanting anything in return

Pinako Rockbell? a cool af grandma who welcomes her home to anyone, has the motto "do no harm, but take no shit", takes on raising a bunch of kids without any complaints and will guilt them with home visits just cause she misses them, will not leave anyone in the cold and does not hold grudges and would probably spoil tons of kids before sending them home

#fullmetal alchemist #october 3rd

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

28 DAYS: CHAPTER TWO

*Spoiler alert: he's not.

Summary: Dean Winchester is an addict and an alcoholic, a USMC veteran, a father, and an older brother. As Battalion Chief with Lawrence Fire & Medical, Dean comes under investigation when he makes a dangerous and impulsive decision, defying his superiors and abandoning the team he is supposed to lead. He is given the choice to go to rehab for 28 days, or jail. His lawyer insists on rehab, and Dean begrudgingly abides.

Chapter characters: Dean Winchester, Nick (Iblis), Zeke Gadreel, Missouri Moseley, Jack Kline, Pamela Barnes, Gabriel, Crowley, Meg Masters, Rowena Macleod

Chapter tags/warnings: 18+ ONLY, references to sexual activity (everyone is 18), references to underage drug addiction and prostitution, Dean’s heading into withdrawal, he’s injured and unmedicated

Chapter WC: 3,200

Author’s notes: Sunrise Bay is the fictional soap opera in which Schitt’s Creek’s Moira Rose starred. I couldn’t resist giving it to Rowena.

I don't have ample words to thank @brrose-apothecary and @stusbunker for their continued support and readings, but I will thank them and declare my undying love.

Text divider by @talesmaniac89

CHAPTER TWO

Dean’s chest is tight with panic. 

“It wasn’t my fault.”

John is furious, driving erratically, and hurling threats and accusations. 

“Of course, it’s your fault, Dean — you’re a man. Men don’t get to play innocent.”

If John had learned about Dean’s mushroom-enhanced threesome with Jamie and Carmen any other way than from Jamie’s pissed-off mom, he’d be slapping him on the back and handing him a beer for earning another couple of notches on his belt.

But nobody likes to be told they’re a shitty parent, especially not John Winchester.

“They were trippin’ and half-naked when I got there, I didn’t-”

“Gimme a break, kid. You went there to get high and get your dick wet. I was 18 once, too, ya know.”

Dean’s mind races as John speeds through town. “What about Sammy?” 

“What about him?! You gonna go home and tell him you got caught fuckin’ his English teacher’s daughter?! Ya think that’ll make him proud, somethin’ to live up to?!” 

John is roaring loud as he pulls into a parking spot in front of the USMC recruitment center. He kills the engine and turns to Dean, but Dean can’t look his dad in the eye.

John scoffs. “Don’t worry about Sammy, I think I can handle it.” 

Dean knows John can’t handle it. John doesn’t even know what time Sam’s school starts or how much money he needs for lunch. John barely even knows what day it is half the time.

Dean’s voice is quiet when he speaks. “They’ll send me to Afghanistan, Dad.” 

He’s afraid — for his own life and to leave his little brother behind. He doesn’t want to go to war, and he doesn’t want Sam to have to navigate his teenage years, dodging bullets from John. 

Dean doesn’t realize he’s crying until his tears drop to his hands in his lap. 

“Oh, man-the-fuck-up, Dean,” John growls, wrenching the door of the Impala open. “Let’s go!”

Twenty-four hours after waking up in the hospital with multiple injuries and the acrid contempt of his little brother, Dean is informed he’s being transferred to a rehab facility.

He isn’t allowed any real pain medication, and he’s riding a class VI hangover, even with fluids being pumped into his body. His head, shoulder, ribcage, and hips are throbbing. He’s starving, too, but he knows there’s no way in Hell he’d be able to keep any food down.

In the early afternoon, he’s escorted to Discharge by hospital security. He wishes he’d showered because his skin is itchy, and he knows he looks like hammered shit. When the guards walk him outside, he sees Nick and Zeke, waiting for him in Zeke’s 4Runner. 

“Fuck,” Dean mutters under his breath.

Sam undoubtedly hand-picked the Green Berets to transport Dean’s sorry ass to Kansas City. Not only do Nick and Zeke not give a single shit about other people’s drama, but they’re also brick fucking walls of defense.

The security guards disappear back inside the building, leaving Dean no other choice than to limp toward his former teammates. As he nears the vehicle, Nick climbs out of the passenger seat and opens the back door. 

Dean floats an attempt at good humor, which promptly falls flat on its face. 

“You two suck at Roshambo, or what?” 

Nick’s silent, answering smirk is devoid of any trace of mirth. 

Dean purses his lips and bobs his head before ducking to gingerly slide across the backseat next to his familiar duffle. He immediately pictures his Dopp kit inside the bag with his trusty bottle of pills. 

With the combination of his injuries, this epic fucking hangover, and his escorts’ chilly reception, he could really use a Vicodin or two right now, but Sam’s no idiot. He chose Nick and Zeke for more than their lack of investment in bullshit or their multiple factors of intimidation; Dean can only assume that everything in that bag has been thoroughly searched and stripped.

“D’you pack my SpongeBob toothbrush? It’s my fave.” Dean asks from the back as Zeke wordlessly pulls away from the curb. 

“Packed what was on the list and nothing that wasn’t, Chief,” Nick replies, confirming Dean’s suspicion. 

Dean nods, slipping his phone from his pocket to thumb out texts to Gordon and Lydia, letting them know where he’s going. He tells them both that he’ll be in touch soon, each for different reasons. Then finally, he pulls up a video game and slumps into the seat for the longest 50 minutes he’s ever endured.

The facility looks like a high school in a John Hughes movie, but with a bunch of weird-ass people standing around outside, hugging and singing and chanting. 

Dean rolls his eyes and hoists his bag onto his good shoulder with a wince. Every second of consciousness reminds him of broken bones, twisted ligaments, and fragments of self-loathing that thrive under his itching skin. The last thing he needs right now is a round of kumba-fucking-ya. 

He peeks over his shoulder to see Nick hanging out the window with a savage grin. “Go on.” He waves Dean off like he’s shooing a fly. “Have fun, and make lots of friends.” 

Dean scowls before turning back to face the entrance and trudging inside, careful not to move too fast. His hip is killing him even more than his slinged shoulder or his ribs, probably because he’s injured it twice before. Fidgeting in the backseat of Zeke’s ancient SUV for almost an hour didn’t exactly help.

Once the facility’s revolving door spits him inside the bright lobby, a warm, welcoming voice calls to him from the centered reception desk.

“Dean Winchester?”

The voice belongs to a pretty, middle-aged black woman in a nurse’s uniform, rounding the desk to greet him. He continues forward, eyeing her sideways. 

“Yes, ma’am?” He doesn’t know what he expected from rehab admittance, but kindness was not it.

“Sam called. Wanted to make sure you got in OK. Nice boy.” She looks him up and down, and her brow furrows. “Let’s get you checked in so you can get settled and rest up.” 

The warmth of her tone and gaze hug him like a thick, soft blanket.

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean responds.

Her ID badge reads ‘Missouri’. Dean doesn’t know if that’s her name, or where she’s from, but it doesn’t matter much to him because she’s already soothed his senses more than anyone he’s spoken to in the last 36 hours.

“Come on, right in here,” she says, showing him to an open office space. 

Inside the room is a male orderly who helps Dean unload his bag before pulling it open and searching its contents.

“Not gonna find much more than Visine in there, buddy. Crocket and Tubbs already got to the good stuff.”

The orderly remains focused on his work, and Missouri focuses on Dean.

“You mind your manners, boy, and let him do his job,” she says. 

Dean drops his eyes to the floor. “Yes, ma’am.”

As the orderly continues his examination of Dean’s belongings, Missouri rattles off some basic rules.

“There’s no fraternizin’ with other patients, no phone calls ‘cept once a week for 10 minutes at a time...”

Dean nods along as she speaks. He flicks his gaze up to watch the orderly drop his iPhone, its charger, and his AirPods into a plastic bin, and Dean shakes his head but remains silent. When the orderly finds the Swiss Army knife Emma bought him last year for Father’s Day, his heart clenches in his chest. 

“You’ll get that back when you check out, Dean,” Missouri assures him, warmth seeping into her tone and eyes. “Now, just a quick pat down, and I’ll show ya to your room.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean nods. He’s relieved to realize that he likes Missouri. She’s a bright spot in this quagmire of misery he’s brought upon himself, and that’s a gift.

The orderly pats him down and checks his sling for anything else the place doesn't allow, and once he’s been stripped of all things sharp or shiny, Missouri leads him through the building, pointing out public sitting areas and restrooms. He’s fucking exhausted and beginning to suspect his hangover is actually withdrawal, which he’s been dreading since he woke up this morning.

Before long, Missouri pauses a few feet from a recreation room with several round table and chair sets, some mismatched lounge furniture, and finally, a single flat-screen TV on a low table. 

“Folks, this’s Dean Winchester,” Missouri says.

Dean takes note of three people piled onto a small couch, another guy next to them in a side chair, and two petite women settled on pillows facing the screen. Some Marvel movie is paused on the screen, by the balding man in the chair. 

“Pills,” he says with an accent, narrowing his gaze as the corner of his mouth twists upward.

Dean’s eyebrows and lips quirk.

“Hmm... sex and booze,” declares the tiny, familiar-looking redhead on the floor. She also has an accent, and Dean wonders where all these Brits are hiding in the middle of America.

“Sex and anything he can get his hands on,” says the bright-eyed brunette from the center of the couch. Her gaze sparkles and dances in a way that makes Dean instantly begin to calculate how to get around the no-fraternizing rule.

“You guys’re good,” he says.

The brunette rakes her appreciative gaze over Dean and licks her lips, as a goofy-looking blonde guy reaches across her to grab a large bowl full of popcorn from the lap of some floppy-haired kid.

“Well, kiddo, since your roommate’s here, I’ll take this off your hands. And, uhh, my money’s on coke,” says the blonde guy as he burrows back into his corner of the couch.

The kid brushes his hands along his thighs before standing and turning to face Dean and Missouri. As he approaches them, he holds up a single hand like he’s swearing to God.

“I’m Jack.” 

Dean darts his eyes to Missouri, who’s smiling reassuringly at the boy.

Dean wants to ask, what kind of crack therapy team thought it’d be a good idea to pair a literal fucking child up with the likes of himself? 

Instead, he waves back at the kid with a weak smile. 

It’s awkward, and Dean is far too undermedicated and stressed to have to deal with a kid. The anxiety makes his heart race and his stomach roil. 

“I can introduce him and show him to our room,” Jack offers with a blush.

Everything about this kid and this room and... everything is making Dean’s skin crawl.

“That’d be real helpful, Jack,” Missouri replies, then turns back to Dean. “This’s your roommate — Jack Kline.”

Dean glares at her before drawing a shallow breath. “Yes, ma’am. I gathered that.”

“I’ll head back to the desk, now,” Missouri says with a pointed look before walking away.

Jack motions toward the group and begins introducing everyone. 

“That’s Pamela,” he says, his brow furrowing in concentration. “Mother of two and meth addict. Next to her is Gabe. He’s a compulsive liar and gambler.”

Gabe salutes as he cheerfully munches popcorn with his mouth full. Dean shakes his head, amazed that Pamela and Gabe seem perfectly comfortable with this little shit airing their dirty laundry all over the rec room.

“Crowley’s on the end, in the chair,” Jack continues. “He’s an alcoholic, and usually very cranky — probably because he killed one of his patients—”

“That was two years ago, you twat,” Crowley drones with an eye roll back to the screen in front of him as he presses play.

“It’s part of your story,” Jack adds matter-of-factly before gesturing to the two women sitting on the floor with their backs against the couch. 

“Meg...” Jack says, and Meg waves. “...was a prostitute and heroin addict — like me.”

Dean’s heart jumps into his throat, and he thinks he might throw up right there. Jack can’t be a year older than Emma. He’s a fucking minor, for christ’s sake.

Meg throws Jack a wink before chiming in.  “I second Pamela’s bet — sex… and anything else he can find.”

Meg holds Dean’s gaze for several beats, and Dean feels like the air’s been sucked out of the room. The buzzing in his ears almost drowns out Jack’s last introduction until he hears something familiar.

“...a retired soap opera star and opioid addict—”

“Rowena Macleod,” Dean says with a small huffed laugh. “My, uhh...” He snaps a few times, shaking his head, trying to jog free fond memories from decades before. “My babysitter watched Sunrise Bay. You were amazing.”

“Ohh,” Rowena coos and Pamela chuckles as she nudges Rowena’s delicate shoulder with her toe.

“Seriously, so much of my childhood is wrapped up in those episodes.”

He remembers Spaghettios and hot dogs, animal crackers, and cherry Kool-aid. His babysitter used to paint his toenails, even though he’d make her take it off before John got home.

“Why thank you, darling,” Rowena preens. “‘Twas so long ago, I barely remember a thing anymore—”

“Might be the morphine,” Gabe mutters, and Pamela smacks the back of his head.

Rowena ignores them both in favor of reminding Jack to bring his “new friend” to dinner.

“Don’t forget, Jacky — four-thirty sharp.” She bats her eyelashes and fusses with her jewelry. 

Dean gives her a warm smile even though he feels hollowed-out, heavy and hot. His skin’s tight and prickly, yet he feels like he’s falling apart. He knows what’s happening, and he fucking hates that he can’t do a damn thing about it but get through it.

“Do you want to go get settled and cleaned up first?” Jack asks, startling Dean to attention.

Jack’s eyes are so wide and so blue, Dean thinks he might fall in and drown. He wants to fall in and drown. Anything but this.

Instead, he nods in answer and follows Jack to the staircase.

It isn’t long before they arrive at their room.

“Curfew is at 8 PM, but I usually read until Lights-Out at 10.” Jack stops in front of their open door, and Dean peeks inside.

The bare bed closest to the door holds a stack of folded bedding and a single pillow. The nightstand is donned with a non-descript lamp and a pad and paper.

“That’s me.” Jack motions to the far bed, which is neatly made with what appears to be a furry dragon dead center of his pillow. On that nightstand is a short stack of comic books and a bag of Milky Way candy bars.

Dean is sure he’s being Punk’d at this point.

“Nice dragon. What’re you, four years old?” Dean asks, pushing inside the room and dropping his duffle to the floor beside what is now his bed.

Jack stands in the hall with his furrowed brow. “I’m 17. And that’s a gryphon; dragons don’t have fur, Dean.”

Dean huffs an ironic, pained laugh and shakes his head before dropping his chin to his chest and letting his heavy eyelids close. 

“My bad,” he mutters, rubbing his burning eyes with the thumb and forefinger of his good hand.

Maybe if he goes to sleep, he’ll wake up, and this’ll all be over with. Maybe he can find someone somewhere in this place with something, anything, to put him to sleep so he can wake up without feeling like a bag full of broken glass.

“It’s OK,” Jack replies with a shrug as he wanders inside the room toward the toy in question. “Not a lot of people know what a gryphon is. They’re guardians of the divine. My mom bought it for me before I was born because she wanted me to always be safe. She died in childbirth, and I never knew my dad-”

“Kid,” Dean interrupts Jack’s monologue of fantastical tragedy. “Can we save the overshare for when I’ve had at least a few hours’ sleep and some food?”

Jack absently pets his stuffed guardian, curiously eyeing Dean. “Openness agitates you. I noticed downstairs that hearing everyone’s stories made you... uncomfortable.”

Dean scoffs. “Well... yeah. I don’t need to know everyone’s dirty little secrets — especially not on the first day.”

Jack shrugs, and Dean watches him carefully replace the plush toy atop his pillow. 

“You’ll get used to it. Honesty is the first step.” Jack looks up as he rounds the foot of Dean’s bed on his way back to the door with a wide, satisfied grin.

Judging by his posture and careful pronunciation of the word, Dean has a feeling that learning the importance of honesty was a big lesson for Jack. Dean isn’t ready for any lessons right now. 

“I’ll see you downstairs when you’re ready. Just follow the signs. The dining hall isn’t far.” 

Jack disappears out the door and around the corner, and Dean sighs with relief to finally be alone. 

As he unpacks his clothes and puts them in the dresser, he tries to ignore his runny nose and full-body chills. He distracts himself by wondering how long the kid’s been in this place, which leads to speculating what landed him here, and then he’s chewing the inside of his mouth bloody thinking about the fucking pieces of shit who sell dope to kids, and — worse — the kind of sickos who pay to touch them.

He slams his dresser drawer hard enough to rattle the mirror on the wall beside it, closes his eyes again, then inhales in through his nose and exhales out his mouth. 

Tessa, one of the nurse practitioners in the Medical division of the department, taught him breathing exercises. He went to see her under the pretense of managing work-related stress, but really he just wanted an in to meet the hot newbie. Turns out, Tessa isn’t just good-looking; she’s also great at her job because the stupid exercises work.

He and Tessa also talked about spirituality from time to time. She’s been trying to convince him for weeks that asking the universe for help doesn’t make him weak. He’s not so sure he agrees with her, but at this point, he’ll try anything to help him get through the next few weeks without losing his god damned mind.

“I feel... fucking ridiculous doing this,” he starts, quiet as a whisper. “But I’m fresh outta ideas.”

He breathes in deeply and out again, dismissing the sharp pain in his chest that every breath brings him, yet tears begin to flood his closed eyes. 

“C’mon, Dean, you got through two tours in Afghanistan, for fuck’s sake!” he berates himself.

Maybe the universe is punishing him for going overboard. Maybe if he promises to reel it in, he can do this without his usual vices to lean on and places to hide.

“Listen, I swear to dial it back when I get out. No more all-night parties, no more mixing- just, please. Gimme somethin’.” 

He sniffs and wipes his eyes, still shivering, cramping, and swallowing back bile, but at least he has a plan. 

“OK, you can do this,” he tells himself, grabbing his Dopp kit and heading to the bathroom for a hot shower.

As the steam from the shower fills the stall and he stands under the hot spray of water, he continues to tell himself that he can get through the next 28 days without imploding. 

Chapter 3

Please let me know what you think!

Series Masterlist

MJ's Masterlist

#au dean winchester #dean winchester is saved

[justicerikai]

Charisma House - Superhuman Sharehouse Story “Charisma” - #77 White Room

Please read alongside listening to the drama track on Youtube.

Let me know if I missed something!

Nakagami: How unexpected, Minato-kun. To think that you would make such a bold decision.

Nakagami: “I’ll help you with anything. But on the other hand, I want you to turn a blind eye to those other six.”... was it?

Ohse: Yes

Nakagami: I guarantee my promise shall be kept, however you must wholeheartedly cooperate in return.

Ohse: I understand. I’ll do anything.

Nakagami: Very well. Let’s start without any delay--

Nakagami: Minato-kun?

Nakagami: Why are you lying down on the floor?

Ohse: This is the fate of trash! I beg of you to use me as you please!

Nakagami: Huh?

Ohse: Are we not doing it at this moment? Or does drugging come first?

Nakagami: I will not be doing that

Ohse: Dissection then?

Nakagami: I won’t 

Ohse: Eh? You are a mad scientist, yes?

Nakagami: I am no such thing as a mad scientist.

Ohse: I misunderstood. I’m sorry I’ll kill myself right now.

(Ohse tries to hang himself up)

Nakagami: Hold it, Minato-kun! Dying would be troublesome! Minato-kun!

Nakagami: Ah- Ah- Minato-kun, stop.

Nakagami: Wai- Wait, Minato-kun. You’re rather vigorous… Minato-kun!

-

Nakagami: Phew…

(Ohse pulls out his knife)

Nakagami: Minato-kun!  Minato-kun!! Minato-kun!!! Mina..Minato-kun!!!!!

Nakagami: Why is he ignoring me

Nakagami: Minato-kun! Am I not strong enough? Minato-kun!! Minato… Mina.. Minato-kun!

Nakagami: Minato-kun!!!! Minato-kun!!!! Minato-kun!! MinaTO-KUN!!!!!!

-

Nakagami: Haah… haah….. haah…

Ohse: You want to know about this piece of shit….?

Nakagami: Yes 

Nakagami: You loathe yourself, and your self-esteem is equal to trash.

Nakagami: Why did it become like this, determining the reason for your charisma.

Nakagami: In other words, what I want to hear is-

Nakagami: -your past. 

Ohse: …..!

-

Ohse: The reason why shit is shit, is something I don’t know

Ohse: There’s no other way to say it other than I’m shit

Ohse: An idiot, someone awful, a hindrance

Ohse: Gloomy, can’t accompany others

Ohse: Only being a nuisance, insincere and unfair kind of guy.

Ohse: I’m sure that even now I’m running away. I know that. 

Ohse: But…

Ohse: But I can’t stand it anymore…!

Ohse: I can’t watch these people suffer any longer…!

Ohse: ……..

Ohse: …..I’m sorry.

-

Sarukawa: Ain’t he your friend! You just fuckin’ ditching him or what!

Rikai: Calm down, Saru

Terra: No one said anything like that. It’s more, like, how it was his own choice.

Terra: All I said is how I thought that’s respectable.

Sarukawa: What’s there to respect, ugly ass

Terra: HHHHHAAAAAAAAAH!?

(Sarukawa and Terra start fighting)

Rikai: Hey you two! Cease!

Amahiko: Hmm, what shall we do, Fumiya-san

Fumiya: Even if we want to look, we dunno where he is

Amahiko: I wonder where they took him to.

Fumiya: …..Can’t think on an empty stomach. Where’s Iori?

Amahiko: Uhh--...

Amahilo: Eh…? What is he up to….

Iori: Fufufufu Ohse-saaan. To think that you suddenly vanished into thin air~

Iori: Why thank you for one of the finest burdens ever. I’ll accept the challenge.

Iori: I will find you no matter what. Don’t underestimate a slave, got it?

Iori: And then you will seal the deal. Fufufufu HahahaHAHAHA

Iori: Luuuuuu~ Liiiii~ Hooooooo~

Fumiya: Luuuuuu~ Liiiii~ Hooooooo~

Amahiko: Don’t enjoy this at all~

-

(Nakagami and Ohse talking)

-

Torahime: S-Sensei!

Nakagami: How is he?

Torahime: Sir! This very Torahime watched over him exactly as told!

Nakagami: Hm?

Torahime: Ah, um I mean, t-there’s has been no change. He won’t eat either.

Nakagami: …..Minato-kun, eat. It’ll be troublesome if you don’t take care of your body.

Nakagami: ….Origami?

Nakagami: You’ve been considerably fervent with making these, is there a reason for it?

Ohse: There would be someone that would get mad at me for making whatever I wanted in the place I lived before.

Ohse: ….

(Ohse smiles)

Nakagami: And who may that be

(Ohse continues to make origami)

Nakagami: (Minato-kun has gone quiet.)

Nakagami: (The catalyst for it being how his former school days were brought up.)

-

Nakagami: (It seems it was a painful time for him.)

Nakagami: (Always getting on others nerves and only being a nuisance to them.)

Nakagami: (Wondering why he wasn’t capable of doing normal things just as everyone else.)

Nakagami: (Leading to the rejection of his own existance.)

Nakagami: (But even then, I wonder)

Nakagami: (There’s no harm to be found within this person.)

Nakagami: (I suspect the root of his internal punishment runs deeper.)

Nakagami: (In any case, that miracle of a Charisma Break…)

Nakagami: (It’s that…! If I were to see that with mine own eyes…!)

Nakagami: (There’s no time. The life of this country first, or me.)

Nakagami: Minato-kun, we depart tomorrow.

Minato: …Eh?

Nakagami: It’s a promise. We will no longer pursue the others.

Nakagami: You will come to my laboratory.

Torahime: You will.

Ohse: …..!

Ohse: Please wait.

Nakagami: ?

Ohse: …………..

Ohse: (I thought it’d be fine, but it’s not.)

Ohse: (I thought I would never see them ever again, but…)

Ohse: T-there’s… something I forgot…

-

Iori: Luuuuuu~ Liiiii~ Hooooooo~ Luuuuuu~ Liiiii~ Hooooooo~

Iori: Luliluliluliluli---

Iori: Luuuuliiiii-----

Iori: FOOOOOOO----

#charisma house #charismahouse #motohashi iori #minato ohse #kusanagi rikai #tendou amahiko #terra #sarukawa kei #nakagami soemon #ito fumiya

[sea-salted-wolverine]

so here's a thing I've learned about the continuum of intimacy and what you're drinking.

it goes, in order, water, wine, soda, cocktails, beer, liquor, fruit juice, wine again, milk, light beer, then water. milk sometimes goes along with soda. tea has a position on this continuum but it wildly varies depending on the individual relationship with tea. coffee is also in there somewhere.

Water goes first because it is the first option offered. If you are having a drink with someone in any context and they have water it's a surface-level interaction. a water cooler conversation. gee, the weather kind of small talk.

Wine is what you have with dinner, and you pretend there's a gravity to the decision of what wine they picked but there's not. it's what your mom and your mother-in-law exchange because of social obligation. what your grandmother drinks as she surveys her own personal matriarchy she built purely so she could stand atop it. It is the expected, ostensibly mature option. It's bad grape juice.

Soda, at the very least tastes like something. if you're drinking soda with someone they made a choice about what they're drinking and you know something about them now, even if it's just a brand allegiance. adults don't drink soda with dinner and maybe that makes it childish, the first assertions of identity. or maybe you're just out having a relaxed good time, a casual lunch.

Cocktails offer the illusion of sophistication. juice and alcohol mixed in an effort to look more impressive. But now you know what they think is impressive. show each other your masks and you know what they want to present to you.

beer is for relaxing a bit. we all have to chill sometime and I might as well chill with you. we can acknowledge those masks and admit that they're just a facade. maybe we get a little bit tipsy but it's gonna take some doing, we can control our descent into disinhibition, which utterly defeats the point.

Liquor is an undeniable statement. who are you. what are you drinking? bourbon is American from the grain to the glass. Whiskey is looser. tequila is the fun vodka wishes it was. gin needs a friend. are we bothering with shots or drinking a half inch at a time off the bottom of a pint glass? let's get drunk, tell me who you are.

fruit juice is who you actually are. fruit juice is who you are when you have a drink with the thirsty five-year-old who wants something sweeter than water. the juvenile slurping and disarming sweetness. Have a drink with me. we are people, we are humans, we are thirsty animal bodies and we can have some juice together.

wine is what your mother offers you when she realizes that you're an adult now too. a person just like her. an adult who can drink wine. wine is what you're drinking when she's realizing that she's gonna end up like her mother and wine is what you're drinking when you realize you're gonna end up like her.

milk is the midnight slurp from the jug when no one can see you. I saw you. I won't tell. gimme that. slurp. tomorrow when you get the Thai food that's soo good and too spicy you're gonna think about this.

Light beer doesn't taste like much. that's kinda the point. it's for the brittle white plastic lawn chair that's been degraded by the sun to an indescribable sort of texture that never gets clean. it's for that time when your dad tells you about watching a man's skull get crushed by an industrial hammer and you just have to blink at the evening air about it. anyways, join a fuckin union.

Water is what you offer your friend when she comes over to tell you she's leaving her boyfriend after the death of his brother. it's just the pair of you raw-dogging reality and all its consequences. it's the drink you have to cajole down your great aunt's throat when you're the last living relative who will take care of her. She doesn't remember how you're related, and honestly neither do you. Water is all your uncle will drink after rehab. Water is the only drink you feel confident offering your diabetic baby niece. Water is what you're drinking when you've already said all there is to say because you know the person you're drinking with so well. when you can stand up at the top of that mountain and have a drink to wash the dust from your throat and say, gee, what about that weather.

#wolverine warbles #writing

[youralternia-asks]

Wait so, what are "The Vipers"? And you and Carlah were in it?

...

...

The Vipers were a gang of desperate, insecure, vulnerable people, then the people that took advantage of them, and Itward. He ran the thing like a cult, and he ran it well, too. Totally replaced any meaning it had before with his grandizing propaganda and violence. But what else do you expect from his flock of the church.

The Vipers didn't have any meaning before Itward. Viqtors older sister founded it, but when her pitchmate backstabbed her and took her to court, then threw her in prison- how well could YOU run a gang full of 20-something's from The Hole. He put a body to an image, made it seem like it was all accepting for social outcasts of all castes. And it was all accepting, for culling.

Malloy hasn't been moonshine and rainbows since she got out, either. Not that she ever was. But since she found out everything Itward did with The Vipers. And her lusus. And her bike. The fact they used to be matesprits before she got sent to prison also stung some, Im sure. Hunted him like a damn bloodhound out of whatever crevice he was hiding in after Carlah left. That woman's a fuckin terror.

She was pretty pissed Itward put you of all people in charge of it, too. And then there was the whole breaking it up thing. She's still pissed about that, too.

Oh come on, I wasn't THAT bad. Breaking up the Vipers should've been my first gog damn decision as the new lead.

I'm sure Corpse thought of that ages before you even pieced the idea together.

Anyways.. we had to do all sorts of shit. Blood rituals, loyalty oathes- hell, Itward hosted fucking sermons and called them gang development meetings. Haven't had a single fucking "gang development meeting" since I joined The Blades. No one's fucking killed me, either.

I found out too little too late the motherfucker doted on me so gog damn much cause I was one of the only Jades stupid enough to actually join. Anybody in The Vipers above Jade had some sob story to appeal to the lowblood majority so they wouldn't gut them how they were being gutted. Itward had some fucked up ideals with life. Thought drinking rainbowdrinker blood would do something or other and make him immortal or some shit. Took me a fucking week to heal and wake back up. But I guess I took too damn long and they'd packed up and abandoned me. I made my way back like the loyal fucking dog I was, but I should've just fucking ran.

If it wasn't for Corpse.

....If it wasn't for Corpse.

It was a really messy time for us. I joined because I was the shittiest kid Viqtor could have picked up from the street and decided to take in. Then I made his life hell for like 6 years before I left without a word and came back hornless and missing a fucking eye.

But he let you back in without question and took care of you till you could hold your own. The old man loves you a lot.

....Yeah. I know.

#dorian #carlah

[jacksothereye]

OC Interview Questions

So @kemendin​  tagged me for this and I’m doin’ it. Real talk I don’t know lot of tumblr people but I’m taggin’ @biiigwinged and @chibikinesis and @a-pirate and @yourblues and @smilepal and @some27-url just because I like lookin at your blogs/characters. Feel free to tag me back if you wind up doin’ it!  I was torn on whether to go Cyberpunk or Fallout for this but Bastard Classic won out so here we go!

----

Name?  Muds. Yes. Really. 

Are you single?  And happy for it. Something something that song ain’t so very far from wrong or however it goes. 

Are you happy?  I have my moments. 

Are you angry? Every damn day. 

Are your parents still married? Sorry, I don’t believe in parents.  

=NINE FACTS=

Birth place? Boston. Technically. I guess. 

Hair color? Uh. Dark. 

Eye color? Also dark. Look it’s not like I lie awake staring into them lovingly or anything. 

Birthday? Why, you gonna buy me a drink?

Mood? Gently violent. You know. Just. Gently. Softly. Benignly violent. Sit back down, you’re fine. 

Gender? Shit which one do you mean by that? It’s the one where I have a dick and I’m totally good with it. 

Summer or winter? If I gotta hide a body? Summer. If I gotta do anything else… eh, fuck it, also Summer. I like the heat. 

Morning or afternoon? *Are* we talkin’ about hiding bodies? I feel like we’re not talkin’ about hiding bodies. Because if we’re hiding bodies, really you wanna do that shit at *night*, or at least early early morning, but - that wasn’t the question. What was the question? I’m takin’ the fifth. 

=EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE=

Are you in love? Don’t be stupid.

Do you believe in love at first sight? I believe in bad decisions. 

Who ended your last relationship? God. He said it was personal. 

Have you ever broken someone’s heart? I mean it’s on them if they were that invested. 

Are you afraid of commitments? Afraid? No. Avoidant? ...Sure. 

Have you hugged someone within the last week? Oooooh pfshhhh nnnnooo. Actually I just hit 1,000 days hug free and I’m really trying to stay on the wagon this time. 

Have you ever had a secret admirer? Maybe, but the problem is I tend to shoot first and ask questions later.

Have you ever broken your own heart? I mean it’s on me if I was that invested. 

=SIX CHOICES=

Love or lust? Oh, well Lust is one of those big sins - you can’t really beat out on that. 

Lemonade or iced tea? Mix em together for science. 

Cats or dogs? Both useless. Unless it’s my dog. My dog’s better than those other dogs. 

A few best friends or many regular friends?  Many, many unapologetic criminals. 

Wild night out or romantic night in? Darlin’ if it ain’t wild either way what’s even the point?  

Day or night?  Depends on what I’m doin’ - don’t make me bring up the body thing again. 

=FOUR HAVE YOU EVERS=

Been caught sneaking out? Four. Times. And let me tell you how much that cost me. 

Fallen down/up the stairs? Definitely up, that’s how you know the Daytripper’s workin’. 

Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? Does ‘wanting something so badly I hurt someone’ count? 

Wanted to disappear? Please, if I’m doing my job right, you’ll never see me comin’ to begin with. 

=FOUR PREFERENCES=

Smile or eyes? Oh always the eyes, that’s the big tell - people who can’t lie for shit? Look at their eyes. It’ll give it away every time. 

Shorter or taller?  Short of a super mutant I don’t see anyone bein’ taller than me. Hold it, what are we even talking about here?

Intelligence or attraction? Well, nine times outta ten being attractive isn’t gonna save your ass so I’d rather whoever this is not be an idiot. 

Hook-up or relationship? Whichever one doesn’t get me shot the next morning.  

=FAMILY=

Do you and your family get along? Sure but I think it helps that we do a lot of drinking and none of us are related.

Would you say you have a “messed up life”? No I’d say it’s pretty standard fuckin’ fare for the Commonwealth. 

Have you ever run away from home? Ohhh - ohohoh yeah. Yeah. Trust me. I’m the fuckin’ *best* at runnin’ away from home. 

Have you ever gotten kicked out? I kicked myself out, it was better that way. 

=FRIENDS=

Do you secretly hate one of your friends? I mean I hate all of them a little bit. I actually hate *everyone* a little bit. I feel like if I didn’t that’d probably be a sign that there’s something wrong with them. 

Do you consider all of your friends good friends?  No I consider all of them right bastards. 

Who is your best friend?  The rightest bastard of them all. See, he was like, best-friend-orphaned back in the day, so I adopted him as my best friend, cleaned him up, made him less sad and pathetic. It took a *lottttta* work teaching him how to re-socialize, but I think we’re makin’ real progress. I can almost go out in public with him and everything. 

Who knows everything about you? Fella. if I thought anyone was even gettin’ close, they’d be dead. That in mind, I’d watch how many more questions you ask. 

#fallout 4 #fallout ocs #oc memes #character questions #I remember this original interview meme circulating around from my WoW days #I think Muds answered it back then too #And now I feel old! #Fallout:Muds

[djcarnationsblog]

BUNGOU STRAY DOGS HEADCANONS

I’m sorry, this is a fucking urge I need to get off my chest XD A few hcs for each BSD Character I’m feelin-

Ships including Dazai/Chuuya, Atsushi/Akutagawa, Poe/Ranpo

Warning for spoilers!

DAZAI OSAMU (FIRST ONE IS LONG, BARE WITH ME-)

>Dazai is a transmasc man, but also a femboy. I say this why? Well, take a look at my semi-indepth, legit serious reasoning for giving it to him XDXDXD

Dazai, back in the Port Mafia, never had much control of how his life went, if you think about it. Where he slept, where he lived, what he did, who he was or wasn’t allowed to kill, whether he was allowed to die or not. Barely any part of his life was in his control. Being trans only made it harder on himself, mostly because of...well, Mori and his bullshit. He wasn’t even in control of the way some people saw him, in terms of gender.

The bandages he wears aren’t only for scars, but they were to bind. Why? Because they were the only thing available he could use. The scars were an excuse to bind, and make it look like a natural, aesthetic choice, yet Dazai himself wished he didn’t have to bind with his own bandages, just another thing he couldn’t control. HOWEVER, before he found out he was trans, there was one specific outlet he had, one that he could indulge within the safety of his own living quarters.

And that was what he wore. You see, Dazai doesn’t care about gender norms, and that carelessness also helped him find in outlet, the one thing that he was in control of. He especially grew fond of wearing feminine clothes.

So, he’s a trans femboy because it started out as a sort of outlet for him in the Port Mafia, which then became one of the things he loves because of how free it makes him feel, to make his own decisions and all.

>Dazai can dance. He so totally danced with Chuuya back in the Port Mafia. Don’t matter if it’s classical dance, or fuckin’ obscene dancing, just. Dance-

>Dazai, when Odasaku was alive, saw him as a brother figure. Because he’d have these moments with Odasaku, whether it be asking him to iron his clothes, or fucking around at the bar, he’d have these moments where he goes ‘huh, brother material’. One time he accidentally called Odasaku his brother, Oda never let him live it the fuck down.

>Dazai is emotionally constipated, fuckin’ stupid when it comes to romance especially. Chuuya asking him out on their first date? Man fucking fainted. He may be good at manipulating people with his charms, but he CAN NOT for the life of him, take what he dishes if it’s genuine. And often times he doesn’t know when it’s genuine until it’s up in his face as obvious as the sun.

>Dazai also can’t take genuinely affectionate nicknames, which Chuuya uses sparingly JUST so this fucker doesn’t get used to it.

CHUUYA NAKAHARA

>Chuuya likes wearing harnesses. Doesn’t matter on what part of the body, he just likes how they look on him.

>The first time Dazai had ever been vulnerable with him, he didn’t actually know how to process it, and just put a hand to his cheek cluelessly. Turns out Dazai likes affectionate physical contact, so Chuuya would make sure to do it at least once or twice a day.

>Chuuya may be a lightweight to liquor and wine, but damn if people said he couldn’t make some GOOD. DAMN. WINE. They’d be either liars, or they don’t even know Chuuya. Everyone loves Chuuya’s wine.

>Chuuya mutually simps for Dazai, even though he tries so damn hard to hide it. Literally loves the shit out of him but he’s too much of a tsun to admit it-

>Chuuya and Kouyou would have days where they just sit down, and gay. That’s it. A gay and a lesbian just simping over hot guys and girls.

>*Bonus cause fuck yeah* Chuuya is like the father figure to so many people it’s fucking crazy. Elise, Q, Kyoka, all the kiddies. Just. Dad vibes.

ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA

>He’s a bi icon, all the bi vibes.

>Atsushi’s pupils will sharpen like a cat’s in daylight, it’s just that the others don’t often notice unless you stare at him when he goes into dark areas, then comes out of them.

>Atsushi CAN in fact purr. He has done it. When Dazai had put a hand on his head, Atsushi just kinda started purring. Dazai has never been so astonished by the fact that his ability actually meshes with some part of his being like this. He never let Atsushi live it down either.

>Atsushi definitely can pick up Akutagawa, like we’ve all seen before. I like to think he actually doesn’t rely on the tiger for that strength, he’s just naturally very strong, and often times he’s training to gain more of that strength.

>More often than not, when Aku and Atsu are in a relationship, Atsushi has the habit of just picking up Akutagawa and walking around with him, absolutely everywhere. He likes doing that, and Akutagawa doesn’t mind, so score-

RYUUNOSUKE AKUTAGAWA

>Akutagawa is definitely demisexual and somewhere on the asexual spectrum to me.

>Akutagawa is a damn fashionista, you can not tell me otherwise. His whole wardrobe is filled with outfits he’ll wear off the job for specific days and everything.

>Akutagawa and Gin would constantly mock each other behind their coworkers’ backs. Middle fingers, stuck out tongues, the like. They’re like overgrown children to each other and literally nobody’s caught them yet.

>Akutagawa likes laying his head on Atsushi’s lap, because that prompts upside down kisses and he loves those kisses. Atsushi knows what the fuck he’s doing whenever he does that, but he indulges him anyways.

>Akutagawa and Chuuya are like, the best of fucking friends and you can not change my mind. They do so much together and shit, it’s adorable because Chuuya’s just teaching him about all these different things and Aku’s always willing to learn.

RANPO EDOGAWA

>Ranpo’s got so much sass in his tiny body. He’ll literally chew out a person without hesitation. Man, chill XD.

>Ranpo likes making origami swans, he learned it from Poe and has just been casually filling up one of the rooms of Poe’s mansion with them.

>He’s stolen Poe’s boots before. Bitch can’t walk in them, but he sure as hell looks fabulous in them. Poe doesn’t even mind, man.

>Ranpo can play the ukelele, he’ll often play it for Poe while he writes, and Poe gives him candy as compensation.

>Ranpo’s a proud, picky pan.

EDGAR ALLAN POE

>Poe can play the piano, calling it now. He’ll be playing that shit when he has writer’s block to help clear his head.

>Poe doesn’t even remember where the hell he got Karl. Just picked him up one day and decided that was how it’s gonna go.

>Poe’s actually freakishly flexible, Ranpo’s always impressed by it because this man can and will sit in what seems like the most uncomfortable positions when writing but it really helps him actually.

>Poe didn’t really have a choice when his bangs decided to grow over his eyes, he just decided to go with the flow afterwards cause it benefitted him.

>Poe’s Sapiosexual and Bisexual. That’s it-

#BSD #bsd headcanons #dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara #atsushi nakajima #akutagawa ryuunosuke #ranpo edogawa #edgar allan poe #DJC rambles

[sage-wilde-va]

Gargoyles X TMNT: The Shadows of New York Chapter 10: Crouching Gargoyle, Hidden Turtle

Casey’s body hated breathing underground. The air here was musty, dank, wretched. You didn’t have to be a bio-science kind of guy to know that you seriously should not be breathing this stuff. And yet, his lungs could not get enough of it as he sprinted through the shallow muck. His boots went plat-plat-plat as he ran, his mask making the scope of the tunnel even narrower in his field of view.

Why did this happen every single time he and Raph hung out? 

He didn’t want to risk looking over his shoulder for longer than an instant, but the sight ran his blood cold. Two creatures, one huge and brawny with skin like blue river stones, the other smaller and olive green, kicked up a trail of mud and slime behind them. They galloped after him on all fours, their massive leathery wings tucked close to their bodies as they ran. Their eyes, white as four tiny moons in the distance, glowed an eerie white. 

Casey had to make a decision about how to lose these monsters somehow, but they were closing in fast. They were so much faster than he was. So, so much faster. God, he wished he had super powers like the real heroes did. He was really kicking himself for leaving his golf bag in the real van, but it wasn’t like he could go back for it now. Sap gloves would have to do.

He was out of options. He planted his boots in the ground, ground his teeth against his mouthguard, and turned around to face them. The two monsters hesitated, exchanging a glance between them. 

Casey lifted his head, blue eyes burning, and he charged. “Goongala!!” 

-

His cinnabar claws dug into the concrete wall, leaping from the stone to the ceiling, continuing to gallop upside down. He couldn’t let him get away, he needed some damn answers. And if this guy was running, he had something to hide. 

Faster, faster, he closed in on the mark. His glowing white eyes narrowed. Strange. Why wasn’t he running on all fours? Where were his wings? Why would any sane gargoyle ever decide to hide underground, and not in the air?

It didn’t matter. If he got away, he’d find no answers.

With a furious snarl, he dropped down from the ceiling, tackling the mutant to the ground. Raphael hit the ground with a grunt. Thinking quickly, Raphael somersaulted, rolling across the ground and planting a heel against the gargoyle’s gut. With an animalistic cry of shock, the gargoyle sailed towards the wall. The wings popped open, a heavy whump of air impact braking the gargoyle’s trajectory. His claws dug long furrows in the concrete as he braked to a halt.

“You know, if there’s one thing that pisses me off,” Raphael’s sai spun across his palm, whirling menacingly. “It’s people fuckin’ followin’ me!” He stepped into a high, aggressive stance. His sai pointed like the fangs of a snake towards the monster’s face.

The creature growled low in its throat, wings raised and head lowered as it prowled about the young mutant. His beak curled back, glowing white eyes leering over his glinting fangs. Raphael postured in kind, shoulders high and teeth bared in his own snarl. His violent green eyes seemed to glow with their own light and fire behind his red mask. 

“Tell me what you are.” The monster growled.

The mutant laughed, a condescending grin coloring his snarl. “Oh, holy shell, it can talk. Great. Now, I can trash talk you properly.”

“I said tell me what you are! ” The beast leapt at the turtle with a snarl. Raphael somersaulted aside, attempting to trip the gargoyle with a kick to the ankles. He leapt above the kick, barely managing to land on his talons. “You’re not a gargoyle, and you’re definitely not a human!”

“Who you callin’ a gargoyle?” Raphael spat, spinning around and kicking back up to his feet. “I’m a turtle, you big red bat!”

“Dead is what you’ll be if you don’t start talking!” The beast drew himself up to his full height, and for a moment Raph’s heart caught in his throat. Even without those twelve-foot wings, this thing was big, angry, and those claws definitely weren’t just a manicure. What kind of mutant was this? Bat? Dinosaur?

“I’ve fought uglier mutants than you with both hands tied behind my shell! Bring it!” Raphael roared with a charge, sai gripped in between his fingers. 

-

The gargoyles split left and right as Jones barreled through between them, tails lashing as they readjusted course, nearly sliding into the wall as they tried to sidestep the massive piles of trash and debris.

“Is this human crazy?” The olive one balked.

“Just a bit, yeah.” The other agreed. “Look out!”

He picked up his brother and hurled him aside out of danger as Casey Jones came rushing back in with what would have been a knuckleduster to the temple. The larger one instead caught it to the side, and he gasped with surprise. This human hit hard . 

The big one, as burly and wide as a bull, caught the human’s hand easily with one claw. Jones gasped as pale blue claws bit deep into his arm guards, the pressure forcing his hand to open. With one swing, he launched Casey far down the tunnel like an old rolled-up newspaper. Head, shoulder, back, hip, and facedown into the slime he rolled. He propped himself up on his elbows, gasping for breath. 

Why are they hesitating? Casey wondered.

His answer came as swiftly as the question. The little one shouted, “Don’t hurt him! If he gets knocked out, we’ll never find our way out of here!”

“Great! You wanna tell him that?”

The small one’s only warning was the rapid sounding of footfalls before he saw the tread of Casey’s combat boot. White light exploded in his vision and he found himself dazed and flat on his back. Casey ducked under a swing from the big one, but didn’t quite see the tail coming. Improvising, he decided to do the only thing that made sense; hang onto it.

It slammed into his torso, and his wrestling grip coiled him around it like a monkey to a tree branch. 

“What the–?!”

Casey yowled as the gargoyle spun around, trying to reach around and grab him. But he just wasn’t flexible enough, chasing his tail round and round. Casey tried not to let the whirl make him feel sick. 

Aw, man. I hate Coney Island!

The big gargoyle, getting an idea, whirled around and slammed Jones into the wall, back first. Casey wheezed, chest barely protected from the impact by the football padding he wore under his coat. A weapon. He needed something, dammit!

“We were gonna be nice! But if you wanna pick a fight?” The little one snarled. “Suits me just fine!”

It leapt at him with a howl like a bobcat, its wings and tail membrane enveloping him like a plastic bag in the wind. He tried to fight off the grapple, arms helplessly pinned to his sides. He couldn’t even see the movement, the little one was so fast! Casey felt his world rock as gravity pulled him upside down and flung him into the wall with a whip of a tail.

Short temper. It reminded him of Raph. 

Casey rolled over, definitely tasting blood in his mouth. He grabbed a handful of muck and flung it into the creature’s enormous eyes with a thick splat! The little one screamed, a sound less human and more animal, and started clawing at its face. “My eyes!”

Casey struggled to his feet, ribs aching, eyes raking the tunnel for something, anything! 

Then he saw it, sticking out of a pile of garbage like the Sword in the Stone. His jaw dropped, and he started to laugh. “Ohohoho, yeah! Come to papa!”

-

He feinted low with a sai-spiked punch towards the creature’s gut. Expected to come in from above, Raphael instead swung into a kip-up, grabbing earth with his three-fingered hands, and springing up to kick the surprised gargoyle right in the beak just as he tried to duck. With a yowl like a mountain puma, the monster backpedaled rapidly, trying to put up a defense. But he was too slow, guard as flimsy as paper, as Raphael followed the kick by hooking his left ankle around his neck, yanking him down to the ground into a reverse triangle lock. 

The gargoyle’ face ground against the slime and pavement, the turtle shifting position to try and grapple his arms behind his head. If he could just–yes! His long tail wrapped around the turtle’s up-raised sai before it could strike the back of the gargoyle’s head. He yanked it away and flung it into the wall, where it struck the brick with a warbling klaaang! that echoed down the tunnel. Raphael yelped in surprise, allowing the gargoyle to reverse the grapple with a flip of his wing and a twist of his tail. 

Raphael choked as he felt the pressure of a wing membrane against his nose and mouth, his opponent dragging his arm up and into a painful position against his shell. It was like wrestling an octopus, with a grip tight enough he could feel his plastron and shoulder bones creak. His arm was starting to go numb. He struggled to suck in breath, but the wing was airtight against his face. He saw black spots in his eyes. A chilling realization seemed to freeze his blood; whatever this thing was, it could crack him like a Cadbury creme egg, if he didn’t suffocate first.

“Tell me what you are!” The gargoyle roared. “Or I swear, I will choke you out!”

Raphael struggled on, his vision swimming in his eyes. 

“Dammit, I don’t want to hurt you!” The gargoyle protested.

Too bad, ugly! If the lights were going out, then Raphael would go down swinging. He lurched forward suddenly, forcing his grappler to somersault away from him or break his delicate wingbone. Raphael gulped precious air and coughed. The monster leapt up with a flip of his tail as Raphael dove to grab his sai from the ground. His feet skittered in the muck of the old tunnel, and he– 

“Yeeaaow!! My toe!!” He screamed as his foot caught the hidden rail of the abandoned subway floor, and he could swear he felt something pop and explode when he screeched into the buried bar of steel.

The gargoyle cried out before his face hit the exact same rail with a sickening crack! Light exploded behind his eyes for a moment, and dazed he scrambled to find his talons and tail. His wings fluttered with nervous confusion like a concussed bat. 

The mutant staggered to a standing position. His left foot hovered in the air, just above his ankle, as he kept effortless balance. Black spots gnawed his sight into tunnel vision. Escaped submission hold? Plus. Broken foot? Double minus. But still, if this was to the death…

Raphael grit his teeth with a growl. He could kill this monster. In the brief, single-second window that this concussion granted him, even with a broken foot, he could kill him. 

Mercy to a disabled enemy. Splinter's voice pierced that fog of war. Raphael’s thoughts, sharpened by pain and quickened by adrenaline, raced between choosing one of two pouches on his belt: death, or escape.

-

As swiftly as the human had dived for the pile of trash, the smaller gargoyle, locked in rage-fueled pursuit, was knocked down by something slim and fast that whistled through the air. Crack! Whoosh, crack! The big one stepped back out of the way, but wasn’t fast enough to avoid a wicked-fast blow to his jaw. He stumbled, rubbing his face.

Casey laughed, spinning the hockey stick until it whistled in the air. “The class is Pain 101! Your instructor,” He tapped the stick on the ground, eyes flashing behind his cracked goalie mask. “Is Casey Motherfucking Jones!”

Before the big one could regain his footing, he paddled up a small rock, and slammed it square into the big gargoyle’s eyes. He roared a roar that shook the ceiling and sent Casey’s heart into his throat. The stick slashed through the air, and the big one pulled his wings down like an umbrella. The stick bounced off, like he’d hit a drum. Changing tack, Casey rushed around the other side. He didn’t know this tunnel, but Raph had shown him his favorite tricks; like knowing which pipes were steam lines.

The small one leaped at him with a hiss, Casey holding up the stick in defense. His claws slashed through it as neatly as a butcher knife through a carrot stick, and Casey’s next thought was what those claws would do to his bones. Swipe, swipe, and–too slow! The little one just missed the human by a hair’s breadth and his claws slashed open the steam pipe. “Gaah!” It burned the skin of his hands, a shrieking cloud of water vapor filling the tunnel with heat and humidity. The whistling of the pipe screamed an endless wail, and Casey took the moment to break off and start running. 

“I’ll stop it!” The big gargoyle stormed forward, claws on the metal of the pipe. 

“No, wait, brother!” The small one shrieked, only a little too late. The big one dug his enormous claws into the wall and he heaved. Casey’s throat went dry when he heard the crack of the concrete overhead, the screaming wail of the steam valve cut short as the tunnel collapsed around them.

-

Raphael chose escape.

A smoke bomb bloomed at the gargoyle’s feet, washing his senses with a vile and pungent burst of gas that brought tears to his spinning eyes. 

“Coward!” The gargoyle howled with a cough. “Come back and fight me, you yellow coward!”

Raphael, already limped halfway through the side tunnel behind the maintenance panel, paused. The enraged howl of the beast rang through the underground. Hovering on one foot, he debated going back. The bait line the gargoyle laid in his heart tugged, his anger flaring again. He snarled.

Raphael was not yellow. He was green. And he was seeing red.

The gargoyle kneaded his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks and snot dribbling out of the end of his beak. He coughed and wheezed, trying to clear his lungs. But each cough just drove the headache deeper into his skull. 

“Coward…” He grit his teeth in a pained whimper.

A voice echoed through the tunnel. “Rematch at Brooklyn Bridge, 3 AM!”

The gargoyle perked up, his ears quivering upon hearing the mutant’s challenge. “Be there, you slime!” He roared. He sank to a sitting position on the concrete, knuckles pressed deep against his eyesockets, as he mulled over whether this was a defeat or a draw.

The tunnel to Brooklyn and Points South remained silent.

#tmnt #2012 tmnt #rise of the turtles #2003 tmnt #tmnt raphael #casey jones #brooklyn #broadway #lexington

[enrapture]

I know ur bi & since ur single whats ur type in men specifically?

I'll make a list! but go in depth. sorry this is a lil long.

-I struggle w/ certain things like adhd, anxiety and trauma so they gotta understand that and accept that and if they still like me afterwards then there ya go lol

-I like depth, fuck the small talk. be different. for ex: lets talk paranormal stories.

-if you’re too distant I’m uninterested lmao

-someone who takes care of themselves. (eats their veggies/a decent amount right, their vitamins, drinks water, works out kinda is just generally in shape. etc)

-men that don't make fun of my likes/hobbies/special interests but try to understand them whether they dislike them or not maybe do research/ get into them bc they know i like them and like seeing me happy.or at least make the effort to hear me boast about them idk fuck. just general understanding would be fuckin cool.

-effort effort effort that shit is fucking sexy as shit to me.

-don't waste my time and i won't waste yours. Be direct with that you want.

-compliment meeeee, I like someone protective. If we can be weirdos together then that’s a match.

-when their words MATCH their actions.

-I'm expecting / used to people treating me like shit. surprise me and be a GOOD PERSON to me in my life lmfao.

-good at communication and know how to healthy communicate their thoughts and feelings, wants and needs no matter how difficult

-men who don't fucking lie. worst thing you could ever do to me is lie, make fun of my interests, talk shit about me, be toxic and manipulate me and use me among gaslight me etc etc. 100pts. I'm very selective with who I let into my life, I have trust issues due to trusting the wrong people and got burned for it many times. scarcity is value. Don't make me regret my decision. men who don't hurt my feelings!!!

-men who like me for more than just my body. who like my personality and shit so much more. 1000pts

-i don't like clingy but i also like the healthy amount of quality time spent together so. I don't need to talk 24/7 i guess but we do gotta see one another a few times or make lil dates or something in order for it to work. it can't be constant to nothing at all. healthy balance???

-I avoid fuckboys like the plague but i can't help but fall (emos, musicians, skaters, skinny, fit, nerds, the funny weirdos LOL. that sorta vibe. etc)

-men who are genuine. gentle. yet aggressive (when its the right time to be) who care about me, support me (call me out on my shit if its not healthy or if im just misinformed and will KINDLY inform me and help me understand/enlighten my way of thinking. Intelligence is soooo incredibly attractive to me, if you can teach me something in some form Its 50pts in my book.

-men who send me stuff like "this reminded me of you, I know youd like this" etc who get my sense of humor and make me laugh. Who try to cheer me up if I'm sad. Men who are open minded, loving, sweet, mean well. caring mmmm

-men who realize mistakes happen and that growing is a process, healing isnt linear as I would with them. Growing out of unhealthy habits and changing for the better:) there is always room for growth.

-if you tease me / are playful / bully me kinda I'll probably end up crushing on you. I like me that are smooth talkers.

-connection is cool, men who have similar hobbies or interests (I like anime, cinephile, video games, reading, art, concerts, exploring, hiking, camping, writing sometimes, music, content creating sometimes, social media stuffs, baking once in a while, photography...) etc. you dont have to have the same exact interests I would prefer you to have your own set to show me that would be cool. but I do like having interests to bond over specifically though lol.

-i guess for an example of men (their body types / personalities) I like are: timothee chalamet, awsten knight, ryan gosling. (abs, arms, hands, eyes, mouths) hnnnnnng everything so sexy FUCK.

-I like men who arent egotistical dickheads. confidence is nice, but if you think you're the shit and are entirely full of yourself youre absolutely disgusting.

-men who are respectful, hold the door, arent afraid to call / video chat. upfront and straight forward, who don't play mind games. direct. sometimes buy me gifts or surprise me with them (I've never had anyone do that. my last relationship they only cared about trips.) nothing wrong with that I liked the trips we went on but i like feeling appreciated idk physical shit is nice too. call me shallow. I like gift giving/ receiving. I do like going on trips but we hardly went on any lol. living is expensive.

-idc how you dress, what you do with your body. don't tell me what i should be doing with mine.

-be my best friend first I don't like rushing. get to know me as i will you slowly over time. lets take our time and feel it out. Who knows it may not be what we want later on. some people like jumping into something immediate. I have to write it out lmfao. that i do not want that or am looking for that. idc if we have "history" or not.

-everyone has things deemed as red flags, struggles, issues, immaturities etc. Lets not be assholes and judgmental pussies. but lets understand and try to grow past them and become healthier better versions of ourselves after all our inner child would want that. change is necessary don't stick to negative habits. be fluid.

phew, I think thats all I can think of at the top of my head atm.

#anon

[losyashkakus]

Episode 13: A little bit of my emotion

If we put aside what Erika was like in past episodes and look at her only in this one: much better, seriously.

But that's also a minus - I'm sorry, how quickly did you learn to use your powers so well? They tried to show that she was acting under stress, BUT. One: under stress you can't come up with new techniques, rather the adrenaline makes you stronger and speed up what you already know and know how to do, no? Two: some of her techniques she did in +- average condition, like knocking out the guard before letting him out of the cell.

Yeah, the whole "templars forgot to close the door" thing is annoying. The plot shouldn't help the heroes achieve their goals like that.

Lance and Nevra: "we felt something wrong, ran to the basement and ran into people who tried to knock us out with tranquilizers again". So how did you defend yourself this time? Okay, I'm too meticulous, they could have just acted really fast. But mhhhhhm.

Lance on the poster is fucking awesome. Yeah, the tail is weirdly drawn, but BLYAT. He's beautiful. I want to marry him now, and have him under the altar in that form.

Lance: "I feel terrible about dragging you out of there by force, I don't want to do that". Interesting reaction.

(I liked it. It's literally "tell me you're Valkyon's brother without saying it".)

"How the fuck did you manage not to notice the missing magical creatures?" Erika had to ask. But she didn't.

Well, Huang Hua was acting pretty good, actually. I was picturing in my head scenes where she would behave worse and try again to hide anything and everything, but her speech seemed to me… pleasant? They're not a perfect state, but they're trying. So far.

THEY LEFT THE LEIFTAN. You know I don't like this guy, but not enough to not be scared for him. I really feel sorry for him.

I thought long and hard about Nevra's decision to leave him - I criticized him, then I was sympathetic. Still, Lance was right: it was a hard decision, and not everyone could make it, with cold reason. That's why not everyone is a commander. They really should have sent all those poor creatures back home first, prepared themselves, and come back for Lei in full force. Which, btw, they did right away.

How tough is Lance that he endured a bunch of shots to his wings, and none went further, into his body or Erika's body?

Nevra grabbed Erika's ass in episode 12. Lance grabbed Erika's ass in episode 13. Lei, Mathieu, that leaves you.

Nevra was cool the whole episode, and especially in the conversation with Erika's father at the portal. Don't even try to change my mind.

I'm still sympathetic to Lei's fans.

HC: Erika, I would have hugged you, but you threw up on yourself.

Erika: ewwww I really smell disgusting.

Lance: COME HERE MY DARLING

Mathieu, you're fucking sick, just spit out all your childhood traumas k???

I still think he just ran away from the fraternity, or was still an agent but changed his mind while he was living in Eldarya.

While Erika, smiling, in thought said "he's lying", I literally had tiktok songs like "she knows" and "back-back-stabber" playing in my head.

Still, I was hoping that Erika would be more worried about literally standing up to her own father. Well, maybe she'd get a kick out of it.

Daddy, you're fuckin' annoying.

Okay, but what if he could really be useful? Yes, he's a bastard, but we've forgiven Lance somehow, haven't we?

I really want Lance to be a little more proactive… Either the whole "hesitated for a second", "hesitated for a moment", "hesitated for a fucking year" thing is that he can't forgive himself and is afraid to take the initiative. We're waiting to have a heart-to-heart talk.

"Don't get me wrong, I get great pleasure out of the process that's going on." Again, "tell me you're Valkyon's brother without saying it". Kinda cute tho.

You can hate Koori all you want, but she understood Erika in the moment better than anyone and supported her perfectly.

Erika, threatening her father with reprisals. Such a cringe, but I like it so much…

Mmmm, well, c'mon, let's destroy Eldarya. Thank you, rainbow-haired girl, for the prediction. Didn't give us shit, but thank you.

I'M TIRED OF DEALING WITH THIS SHIT GIVE ME MORE ROMANCE WITH MY MAN FUCKING GOD I'M PLAYING FUCKING OTOME I DON'T WATCH SHONEN

...

Anyway

I enjoyed the episode, and I almost didn't get pissed off with Erika. Interesting.

#eldarya #eldarya new era #eldarya ane #eldarya a new era #eldarya lance #eldarya mathieu #eldarya leiftan #eldarya nevra #eldarya spoilers #eldarya ep13 #eldarya episode 13

[ratralsis]

Worth it

I'm having a rough few months, financially. Feel free to slip me a couple of dollars if you can, but don't feel bad if you can't: https://ko-fi.com/ratralsis

And on to what I wanted to write.

Years ago, when I was but a young college student (I have no idea what demographics I reach with this blog, but I don't THINK it's a lot of high schoolers? Prove me wrong, I guess), I made the decision that I was going to spend my final fifteen months in college doing whatever it took to lose weight and get into better shape. I'd been steadily gaining weight each year since I'd finished high school and it was getting to a point where clothes were hard to find, seats were hard to fit into, and my back and knees were giving me chronic pain.

My weight was not crazy high. At my heaviest, I was 255 pounds. A lot of people in the world are heavier than that and are perfectly fine and, let me be clear, I'm perfectly fine with them, too! I'm a big believer in the idea that you can be healthy at any size. But I can't. Or at least, I couldn't. I wasn't healthy, and I wasn't happy, and I decided to do something about it.

So I dieted. I exercised. And I lost about a pound and a half a week for months. I started in September (I graduated in the beginning of December the next year, hence my fifteen months, because my college class schedule was odd), and when the summer break began, I had to go home and wait before I could come back for my final quarter and finish my final classes and graduate. I did not walk with a hat and robe and all the other fancy accoutrements, because I already had two Associate's Degrees and had done so then and didn't want to do it again.

My college years were odd.

Anyway.

So I had to go home, and that meant no more access to the gym at school, where I'd been running on an elliptical every day because an elliptical is easier on my joints than a treadmill and I don't like stationary bikes as much.

So I approached a friend of mine from my old college, the one where I got my two Associate's Degrees, who'd spent his whole life studying martial arts. Around the same time I'd started my fitness journey, he'd started one of his own: he'd begun a 100-day program called IRON BODY TRAINING under the tutelage of his master, a local carpetlayer in a small town who happened to be the grandmaster of a style called, according to the friend, "Slide-In Black Panther Kung Fu," but which Google tells me might actually be called "Black Panther Combat Gung-Fu." In other words, if you Google that second phrase, you might find the grandmaster of it! I won't tell you his name, though! You're on your own!

All I'll say is that he looks EXACTLY like all those fuckin', like, strip mall dojo masters who can't do martial arts for shit, just another slightly paunchy middle-aged white guy with gray hair and a goofy smile, but I met the guy years after this story and he really actually is an insanely skilled martial artist. I mean… is he deadly? I don't know. I just know he was very skilled and very strong when I met him and he would regularly travel around for competitions and exhibitions. It might be that he's just a good performer who tricked me. I won't claim one way or the other.

What I will say is that the IRON BODY TRAINING that my friend was doing was pretty serious. It was a 68-minute routine that relied on a lot of isometric poses and body-weight exercises mixed with difficult yoga poses.

It isn't the hardest workout around if you don't want it to be. It's as hard as you want to make it. That's the fun of the isometric exercises involved, where you need to tense your muscles as hard as you can while you do them. You get out what you put in. And, since I suddenly had like eleven weeks stuck at home, I asked my friend to teach it to me. He agreed, on the condition that I commit to it. See, the IRON BODY TRAINING is a 100-day program. You do the exercises every single day for the hundred days, and you have to follow some additional guidelines:

No intoxicants or stimulants, that is, no alcohol or caffeine No other recreational drugs No sweetened foods (that is, no chocolate, candy, milkshakes, etc.) No fried foods No red meat No sex of any kind, even the kind you can have by yourself

A lot of people get to that last one and feel the need to make a joke about how they could do the rest, but not that. Whatever. As my friend put it, it's not like the IRON BODY POLICE will come and take away the powers granted to you by doing the IRON BODY TRAINING if you break the rules. But he had followed the rules, his master had followed the rules, and he made me promise to follow the rules. So I did.

I remember asking him a couple of times about the finer points of the rules. For example, could I still drink a protein shake after a workout if it was chocolate-flavored? I was having a hard time finding protein powder that WASN'T sweetened. And what about sugar free chewing gum? That's still sweet, too. He told me that those were fine for the simple reason that avoiding them would have been harder than it was worth. So, if you think those are breaking the rules, I did break the rules. Sorry.

I could tell a lot of stories about doing the hundred days and how I was going crazy for a burger and a latte by day fifty and then day on day 101 I bought both and they made me sick because the flavors were so disgustingly overwhelming, but that's not actually the point of all of this.

The point is that, after learning the full IRON BODY TRAINING, I wound up working a temp job at an Autozone warehouse. And it was a very physically taxing job! It hurt my back!

There was one exercise in the IRON BODY TRAINING that was really good at stretching and working out knots in my back, though, so I would do it while on my breaks (trying to at least do it where nobody was watching, of course) or at home after work. I don't know what it's called outside of the IRON BODY TRAINING, and I don't feel like explaining it. I'm sorry. You'll just have to wonder, I guess.

And I told my friend this. I told him that I had started doing some of the IRON BODY TRAINING exercises to stretch out my back and feel a little less pain on the job. And he thought about that, and then he said, "Then it was worth it for me to learn it."

It wasn't enough for him to learn it and do the training himself to improve as a martial artist or improve his own physical health. He had to teach it to someone else (me), and that someone else (me) had to use it to improve their (my) life in some way. Once that had happened, it was worth it for him to have ever learned it to begin with. That's what it took. Him learning it led to it helping somebody.

And that, I tell myself on a regular basis, is my baseline, too. I complain sometimes about my writing not reaching nearly as wide an audience as I'd like, but I stick with it, because if I've made life a little better for even one person, then it was worth it. That's what keeps me working on my novel, too: the idea that, once it's finished, it might reach a single reader who cares.

Yep. That's where I was going with this. I wanted to try to encourage anyone out there who's working on something that doesn't seem to be doing big numbers that maybe it's worth it even if you have a small audience.

I'm not so foolish as to say that making a difference in a million people's lives isn't more impressive than making a difference in one. I'm just saying that making a difference in one might still be worth it. So go for it. You never know.

#ratralsis writing #text post #long post