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eyebagshawty · 3 months

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Hey, I really like your works! I wondered if you could make something about suicidal reader and astarion, gale, halsin and anyone you feel like.

But only if you're comfortable with it. Some general hurt/comfort would be ok. Best inspiration 💛

Blurbs for Male Companions Comforting a Suicidal Tav

Pairings: Astarion, Gale, Halsin, Wyll

Warnings/Tags: some canon typical violence, suicidal thoughts/ideation, suicide attempt, angst, comfort, some are durge Tav, probably a dead dove do not eat situation

A/N: As someone who struggles with this type of thing daily, I really enjoyed expressing my interpretation of this; it was therapeutic in a way. These are blurbs, so it may not be as developed as I would like, but I hope you guys like it! Let me know if you want a part two with the ladies :)

Astarion

Marcus had kidnapped Isabelle. The sweet cleric had welcomed your party into the arms of Last Light Inn, and somehow you were too weak to save her. It was your fault.

Your. Fault.

Astarion had comforted you after, saying you couldn’t have known you would need every last bit of your magic to give your help. You couldn’t have known you would need to rest. It was just as much of a surprise to him, to Shadowheart, to Karlach. But the more you stare at Nettie’s wyvern toxin — more of a keepsake at this point than a tool for battle — the more you decide you should’ve known. Jaheira’s expression after Last Light had fallen, it’s burned into your memory. You had promised her your only intention was good, but there was still something in her eyes that showed blame.

As you watch your companions move around camp and settle next to the fire, your left hand subconsciously lifts your dagger from its holster; your right hand coming up to your mouth to open the seal of the wyvern toxin. Where could you even go from here? There was no moon lantern, but no reason to go back. You don’t even have anywhere to go back to if you think about it.

You really are a monster, the tadpole your own scarlet letter. The dagger is slathered with the wyvern toxin, and as you smile at your lover from across camp the dagger makes a shallow slice into your thigh just out of sight.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed guys, we’ve got a lot to plan tomorrow about where to go from here,” you mumble, your eyes slightly glazed from the poison entering your system. Your companions nod in agreement, each one heading to their tent to prepare for bed. Astarion, however, watches you. His brow furrows, and he’s about to offer for you to sleep in his tent again, but you’re already in front of him. “Hello love, I know it’s a bit early into, well, us. But I was wondering if I could sleep with you tonight.”

Astarion gently takes your hand in his and kisses your knuckles. “Of course my sweet,” he whispers. But the closer you get to him, the weirder you smell. He can smell the familiar bouquet of your blood, just a trace of it, but there is a sour note in there. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” As he looks back up to your eyes you let out a sob you’d been holding since earlier that day. His eyes widen; he isn’t good at comfort but for you he can try. “Darling what’s wrong?” He prods, needing to help you in your state.

You feel you can’t verbalize it, so your tadpole nuzzles up to his, asking for entrance. He accepts, and the images of your actions, your thoughts, your feelings flood into his mind. After the connection breaks you crumple to the ground, the poison entering the later stages.

Astarion’s thoughts immediately clear as he stares down at you in horror. He gathers your body into his arms and runs to Shadowheart, your seemingly now small and delicate form writhing within them. Shadowheart stands as she sees him running. “What happened Astarion?” She sternly quips, her eyes softening at the sight of you.

“They… it was one of those winged horrors. It poisoned them. Please help them. Please.” Astarion looks down at your eyes as they twitch and gaze blankly towards the sky. Shadowheart eases an antidote and a greater health potion into your mouth. Once you have your faculties about you once more, you lean your face into Astarion’s chest and weep. “Shh my love, let’s get you to bed.”

He lays you down gently to the various pillows in his tent, his every vein screaming to run. He isn’t ready for this kind of care and work a relationship requires. What am I thinking? It’s Tav, not some sorry bloke from a tavern. Get yourself together.

“I’m sorry. That was a pathetic idea for me to have, I know you might not want to explore this any further and I’ll still help you with-“

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling,” he mutters as he strokes your cheek with his fingers. “I’ve been right where you are before. Nowhere to go further but nothing to go back to, hmm?” You nod and he gives you a sad smile. “I find that I’m more happy than ever to be alive right now. Well, unalive but that’s no matter. I have you. We will find a way to get that damned moon lantern. I’ll bite everyone in this camp to take a break for a day. Whatever you need. I’m here and I… I love you.” He definitely didn’t think of saying the L word now of all times, but as a surprise to him it feels perfectly right.

“I love you too. Please just hold me.”

And so he does.

Gale

As you wake to the blinding light of the sun, restraints tug at your wrists. The memories of the last night come flooding back into you. The fear in Gale’s eyes as you bit at him that he had tried to hide, the way you kept failing to break through the urges to speak to him. He was so sweet to you. He didn’t deserve it. You love him.

“Glad to have you back with us my love,” Gale whispers into your ear as he frees your wrists and ankles from the restraints. He helps you to your feet and leads you to the fire. “Breakfast is ready. You told me your favorite is an omelet with bacon and some tea?”

“Yes, but you didn’t have to do this for me. I was being dreadful to you,” you mutter, looking down at the food.

“Of course I did. Our love knows no bounds, right? Now, eat. Baldur and his gate are waiting for us.” He kisses your head and you force a smile, shoving the food into your mouth as if you aren’t sick to your stomach with yourself.

The fight in the astral prism had put everyone off kilter. When you had found out the protector in your dreams, the person you needed to trust with your life, was a mindflayer, you only wanted rip each tentacle off its face and eat them as it watched. You did trust it. You were just so deplorable you thought its intestines would look beautiful around its neck to hang outside of your tent as decoration.

You can’t stand yourself anymore. Not just your actions, but your body. The urges make your body hurt, make your head pound and your stomach wretch. You never see a person in the mirror, you see a diseased sack of flesh squealing to be kept alive.

Gale holds you in his lap, leaving soft kisses on your neck as he reads one of his unusually large tomes. You feel disgusting. You will never deserve something nice like this. “I’m going to go see if I can spot the city from that building over there love,” you whisper as you kiss his cheeks and stand up, your stomach twisting as he gazes at you with loving eyes. He can’t love this, can he?

“Do you want me to tag along? I love a good tower as much as the next wizard,” he asks softly as he rubs your sides with his warm hands. You shake your head and force another smile. His brow lightly furrows but he shakes it off and presses a kiss to your lips in parting.

You find yourself sitting on the edge of the tower roof overlooking all of Baldur’s Gate. It has been a couple of hours, and you decide you don’t want to know any more about Orin or the makings of the absolute. Something in your mind tells you it will be the end of a lot of things if you find out. You shakily stand, letting out a ragged breath as pebbles skitter off the edge from under your feet. You close your eyes, exhale, and lean forward, when you fly through the mist into Gale’s tent. You let out a broken cry as warm and strong arms wrap around you, smelling of parchment and tea leaves.

“My love, I’ve felt the immanence of our situation for a while, and when Mystra abandoned me I thought I was as good as a newborn gnoll, destined for nothing but madness. But darling, what were you thinking?” He mutters into your hair.

“The urges won’t- nothing will stop. At my core I’m evil, something to be exhausted. I can’t-“

“Tav, I wouldn’t be as in love with you as I am if these things you said about yourself were true. I would give up my tressym to Astarion if it meant I could relieve any of your pain. Don’t tell her I said that though, Tara would never let me hear the end of it.” You let out a quiet chuckle, his dry humor always helping. “Now let’s sleep, no matter what this packed and unforgiving city does to us we will get through it together.”

“I love you, please, please don’t leave.”

“I would never dream of it.”

Halsin

Orin has captured Gale, and you feel helpless. Did you really not know your friend well enough to see that a shapeshifter was in his place? You have known him for months at this point. And yet, it was your fault for not checking in with him. For getting in that petty fight over the crown of Karsus that made you both ignore each other.

As you and your party trudge once again through the sewers, Astarion and Shadowheart both bombard you with questions about their personal needs within the city.

“Shadowheart, I understand we need to go to the House of Grief but Gale could quite literally be dead right now,” you assert softly, trying to show that she means just as much to you.

“Ugh, Gale. Of all times we have to be in a pickle it has to be over him and right now,” Astarion mutters to himself. You try to push down your frustration but the smirk on his face pushes you over the edge combined with his next words, “You’re the one that’s supposed to be making the rounds, darling. I can take Shadowheart to the house, and you and bear boy can find the bootmuncher.”

As shameful as it is for you, tears burst from your eyes as anger and anxiety take over. “So go. I don’t care anymore since you have never gone out of your way for us. I… fuck!” You slam your sword onto the ground and walk yourself back to cool off.

As Astarion builds up his retort, hurt and defensiveness flashing across his expression, Halsin steps in front of you protectively. “Calm down, Astarion. This does not need to be a fight. Let’s just break for the day. Come, my heart.” As he takes your hand comfortingly in his, you feel a gnawing dread seeping into your bones. This was all your fault, and you keep burning bridges with people you care for and you don’t know how to stop.

At the end of the day you find yourself in the middle of the woods, further from camp than Halsin liked, but it was your privacy; you asked for it and he would respect it. You stared down at your sword, your hands jaunting out to hold it at an awkward angle towards your chest. It had been like this for around an hour; you couldn’t even do this correctly, thinking about how everyone would grimace if they found you like this . Fuck it.

As the knife glides through your padded armor, a large hand places itself on your shoulder. It’s warm, and it smells like herbs and cinnamon. “My heart, please. This is not the way. We’ve come so far on this journey, together, and almost nothing has ever gone wrong. Silvanus guide me, please speak. I need to hear that you are okay,” Halsin chokes out, his voice thick with concern.

“It’s just… I would have known if Gale was acting weird. If I hadn’t pushed him away. I’m doing the same to Astarion, I’ll do it to all of them. When someone goes Illithid it will be on me. Hells we’re taking a break and he could be anywhere.”

“As much as we all love you little one, there is no leader. Nobody could have seen that coming. I had choice words with Astarion, and he would love to speak with you. Everything is handled, I just need you to understand that we can take the weight off of your shoulders occasionally. I love you with everything inside of me. Please know that you are loved.”

The sword clatters to the dirt, and Halsin brings you into his arms; a bear hug in every sense of the term. “I guess I will need Astarion to sew this back up,” you mutter, finger the frayed threads above your heart.

“That sounds like a great idea, little one. I’ll put on some tea for when you’re done.” He kisses your head and walks you back to camp, his arms never leaving your waist.

After a cathartic conversation with your resident vampire, a big brown cave bear awaits you in your tent with blankets and tea.

Wyll

On the dock overlooking the Chionthar, a blade glares up at you from your worn fingers. The Netherbrain is dead, your friends are free from the things that bind them, but you don’t know if it’s the same for you. Nobody forced you to create the Illithid plot with Enver Gortash, nobody forced you to kill Alfira. Her face will haunt you forever, what you did to her in a cold sweat during the middle of the night.

Sure, you had given up Bhaal’s inheritance, but it was still your skin that was covered in blood. It was still your face that bit and spit at the urge’s victims. It was with your eyes that you looked down at Alfira’s cold and eviscerated body. Wither’s had resurrected you in the temple, but you still felt shame creep into your veins. You weren’t a new person, you just forgot.

You saw Wyll hugging Karlach, her new Illithid form unusual but still distinctly her. You want to be with him, you need him like breathing, but the guilt and regret is gnawing at your flesh like a newborn gnoll. Maybe he would be better off taking his role as grand duke by himself, the whole city would whisper of the mad adventurer that had to fight for forgiveness to their complicit nature in the plot. As the blade begins to take its final drink from your wrist, Wyll looks up and shouts your name.

An eldritch blast knocks the blade into the sea, and warm hands wrap gently around your wrist, and a handkerchief is pressed to the small nick. He smells sulfuric but sweet like cinnamon apples as he presses a worry-filled kiss to your head. It comforts you but it shouldn’t; you don’t deserve this. “My love, what is wrong? The netherbrain has fallen, Karlach lives, what could trouble you this much?” He whispers into your ear, making sure the others know this interaction is private.

“I can’t live with myself. I may have forgotten a good extent of my past, but I remember everything from that point on the nautiloid onward clear as a whistle. It’s too much to act like I’m this hero,” you whisper back, tears streaming down your cheeks.

Wyll lifts up your left hand, a ring glinting in the morning sun. He kisses the knuckle wearing it, and looks up into your eyes with a bittersweet smile. “I did not choose you to be the love of my life, my sun and stars, because I thought you were evil my love,” he kisses your cheeks and puts his forehead to yours. “That wasn’t the you I see before me, this wonderful creature who sees past my horns, past Astarion’s vampirism, past Gale’s orb godssakes,” he chuckles and you let out a quiet laugh.

“I just don’t want to be that again. Ever again,” you whisper as you glance at your joined hands. Wyll brings a hand to your cheek and kisses your lips with a tender touch.

“It will take time. Just like I have newfound bumps in weird places, I need to get used to those. It’s being human. Now come with me, future Ravengard, we have beers to slam with our friends.”

He helps you up, and pulls you into the tightest hug as if you could disappear. You walk into the brightening dawn to the Elfsong Tavern, making sure tease him about becoming the grand duke the entire way.

#fanfic #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #bg3 romance #gale dekarios #gale x reader #halsin x reader #halsin #wyll x reader #wyll ravengard #18+ content #please read tags #angst

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teeny-tiny-revenge · 1 month

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Came across this in a fic again and I have to vent for a moment here: Ed's hair isn't unclean or not taken care of. Ever. Even at his lowest, in the first two episodes of season two, his hair is light and blows with the wind, it's got perfect waves, there is zero grime in it. Impossible Birds Ed hair has clearly been fairly recently washed, combed out and conditioned. Ed canonically loves soap, and you don't get that hair without owning a comb or brush and frequently working oil into it. He's at sea! The air is salty! It'll dry out your hair, but Ed's hair doesn't ever look dried out. The day he decides to commit suicide he puts his hair up into a lovely bun, with whispy stands framing his face. I have no idea what some people are watching, because Ed taking meticulous care (and most likely also putting pride and love) into his hair is clear, on-screen canon.

Like, if you want to write about how he was neglecting himself in his depression Kraken era? There's plenty there for you on screen as well! He sobs all night, probably sleeps on the floor if he sleeps at all. He doesn't wear his knee brace. He drinks and does drugs (and admits to that being poison to Frenchie!). He's pushing everyone away, he's pushing himself hard into a role that made him passively suicidal even before the breakup depression. He doesn't watch his back during raids At All. There's so much self harm there to address. If you want to, it would probably be plausible to add him not bothering to properly care for any wounds he might obtain during a raid. But he clearly doesn't neglect bathing and hair care. They're probably the only elements of self-care he actually still does during this dark time!

Even rock bottom Ed doesn't neglect his hair. And that says things about him! It's also something I'd love to see actually addressed in fic (will probably write it myself one of these days...): Taking good care of his hair, putting on jewelry, doing his makeup, these are things that seem to bring Ed joy or relief in his darkest moments. Where's my fic about these quiet moments of self-care being a straw he clutches to when everything else is terrible?

I love a good bathing together/doing each other's hair fic. It's intimate and loving! And Stede and Ed are prime material to write a mutual caretaking and bonding over it couple! Ed canonically loves soap and taking care of his hair! And Stede brought an entire fucking bathtub on a ship, the wonderful madman. S1 Stede's hair is always carefully curled, and we know that's not its natural state (it's wavy but not in this manner) from seeing him in S2, away from his certainly plentiful bath and grooming equipment. Stede probably has an hour of daily hair routine! We know he has nice smelling, probably expensive soaps. Where's the fic where they share in this?

There's so much potential! They can show each other their favourite care products! Sometimes they'll work on each other and sometimes not at all! Ed's rich hair oils will make Stede's hair all sticky and weird! Ed will think it's hilarious and adorable, he'll try to ruffle his hair and make it stick up worse and Stede will pout! 🥺 He'll look like this, just with weird spiky hair! One ill-advised day they try putting Stede's curlers in Ed's hair and then they almost can't get them back out because Ed's hair is so long and has lots of natural wave and it'll cling to the curlers and it's awful (they laugh about it afterwards, once Ed has very carefully brushed his hair out again and it no longer pulls at his scalp).

Makeup was a thing done by men and women at the time, especially for aristocrats (as seen in Episode 5), so Stede will know his way around hoity toity makeup, meaning rouges and whites (contained lots of lead, yuck!). Meanwhile Ed does pirate costume makeup for Blackbeard endeavours, that's a whole different thing. And both of these are makeups they don't actually enjoy doing (Stede avoids heavy makeup for the party, and Ed's Kraken makeup is part of his whole Everything Is Awful And I'm Making Myself Feel That look). But we see Ed do nice makeup that seems to be him! On his supposed to be final day on Earth, he cleans away all the Kraken coal, he cleans up his cabin, he gets rid of drugs, booze, Izzy (everything that was harming him), he does up his hair really nice and in a style that's very much Not Blackbeard, and he puts on a gorgeous bit of eyeliner that really brings out his eyes. And now that they're safe and happy together, when Ed decides he wants to look pretty today, not only can Stede lose his marbles over the look, Ed can also show him how to make his own eyes pop like that. They can stand in front of their mirror together, giggling and trying not to poke anyone in the eye.

Like. This is a fancy bathroom items for fancy bathroom items couple. They will bond over their love of bubble baths and nice smelling soaps and soft oils for hair and skin! They will learn each other's routines and how to do them just right for them. Let Stede learn that Ed loves his baths scalding hot (Stede has to wait a while for it to cool before he joins him in the tub because he'll get all pink and lightheaded). Let Ed learn how to put in Stede's curlers for him if Stede wants his hair to look extra fluffy the next day. Let Ed learn to massage Stede's back and Stede learn to massage Ed's knee. There's so much potential for loving caretaking with this ship. The trope doesn't at all require Ed to not know or not want to take care of his hair and hygiene. Fuck's sake.

#okay #bye #I can't believe we're still here folks #why were we ever there?#ofmd #ofmd meta #ed teach #stede bonnet #teeny rambles #teeny rants more like #🤨

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 2 years

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Is there any chance we could have a round up of the Circus? I am so lost on how the dominoes fell over the last 40 days

Okay this is not comprehensive, because (a) my husband the politics nerd is currently on his way to a gig in west Wales somewhere and so cannot chime in and also (b) all our political journalist friends are understandably quite busy right now doing political journaling, but I seem to have an influx of new followers who are also very confused and don't understand what's going on, so I shall try.

Alright so what we're seeing here is the Second Clownfall of 2022, the hotly anticipated sequel to the Adventures of Big Dog the Clown. However it revolves around the character of Liz Truss, and will use some terminology, so

Previous Reading

Important Terminology - Required Reading

What is a Whip?

How do Whips work?

Shadow Cabinet

Front Benchers, Back Benchers and the Cabinet

What do we need to call an early General Election?

The Adventures of Big Dog the Clown - Suggested Reading

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Elanor's Guide to Liz Truss - Suggested Reading

Character-based prequel

...okay I think that's everything. On with the show!

The Premiership of Liz Truss (2022-2022)

Week One

We begin our tale on September 5th, 2022. Coincidentally, that was also the date that I personally started my new job. Let's see which of us does better!

The Daily Mail is delighted, and runs a headline proclaiming "Cometh the hour, cometh the woman". Tory rag in a frock coat the Financial Times runs an op-ed:

So the results ARE IN! She will definitely fuck us up! But that's a good thing for vague reasons! Blitz spirit everyone. Tally ho, pip pip, shoot a servant and have sex with a wall, hey what. Good old Blighty.

(That's my best impression of Tories I'm good at their accents I hope you like it)

Truss does an interview with Laura Kuenssberg, and fellow guest and comedian Joe Lycett wildly and effusively applauds her every word. Even Liz realises no one would sincerely applaud her. Bafflingly, the entire right wing press and every member of the Tory party freak out about this, because they don't understand the function of a satirist and don't know how to defend against it. It is extremely funny. Joe Lycett announces he's a right-wing comedian now, and begins a new extended career bit effusively and sarcastically praising right wing politicians. They all cry extensively and call him mean.

SO, it's been a long hard leadership campaign! But she made it. For years, Tories have been blighted by the curse of the PM/Chancellor relationship, backstabbing and cheating and lying about each other to try and get power. But not our Liz, oh no; her Chancellor is Maths Mate and BFF Kwasi Kwarteng, an insipid and poisonous gnome known for three (3) things:

He once wrote a stupid book with Liz Truss about his stupid opinions on how he thinks economics work and everyone laughed at him and stuffed him in a locker

On the night of the Brexit vote he was overheard by a journalist gleefully saying “Who cares if sterling crashes? It will come back up again“ which are of course the words of a man who knows all about economics and how they work

This fucking bullshit back in July:

But hey IT'S OKAY! Everything is fine! Because Liz and Kwasi are BFFs who certainly never had an affair and are marching in lockstep and have each other's backs and both love maths more than their own children if they had any! Maths Friends!

Multiple resignations immediately follow.

Among them is Ben Elliot, the Tory Party chair, which is a pretty big deal from a man who just lived through the Johnson years; also, shockingly, Priti Patel, the deportation-happy Home Secretary, decides that even as an animatronic goblin she cannot support this nonsense.

It's not a resignation per se, but at ten to seven in the evening it's announced that Andrew Bridgen, the Troy MP for Leicestershire North West, has been evicted from his home and ordered to pay £800,000 in legal costs, and a possible £244,000 in rent arrears. Also described as "dishonest" by a judge.

This is not directly relevant to Liz Truss but look, it was a staggeringly weird day and this was basically the topper.

Anyway.

Liz goes to the Palace and is duly sworn in by the Queen, who promptly keels over and dies the very next day. Parliament is instantly shut down for mandatory mourning. As omens go, this one was not subtle.

This triggers the circulation of some very awkward footage of Young Truss talking about how she thinks the Monarchy should be abolished for being a gross relic of horrifying social stratification. However you must understand that it's not awkward because anyone thinks she murdered the Queen. It's because Liz Truss's attempts at public speaking are like sitting through a children's Christmas play when you're the only person in the audience and they can all see your face so you have to look encouraging for four hours when inside you are shrivelling into something approximating an apricot pit travelling to the core of Jupiter.

Take a look at her acceptance speech and wither.

Anyway we're now several MPs and a queen down so she's got to get on replacing those so she can focus on her real love: the much-anticipated mini-budget that she is preparing with Kwasi to save the UK from the harrowing quagmire of crippling poverty that Big Dog managed to drive us into (all while pretending it wasn't Big Dog who did it.)

Fortunately, she does not need to replace the queen! Monarchies take care of themselves, which many people would argue is very much the problem, of course. They had a proper reunion with Meghan From Suits and Meghan From Suits' husband, both of whom were banned from visiting Balmoral, and also the Nonce flew in, who was allowed to visit Balmoral. Such heartwarming scenes.

But the Cabinet, that's another matter. That's something Liz DOES have to do, and it's important she gets it right, Tumblrs, because you see, every time a Cabinet minister is replaced it's expensive and a hassle and it weakens a government by making them look all crumbly, like a packet of biscuits that's been rammed against a wall and now someone is opening it and everyone is bracing for Crumbs.

So, step forward to the Cabinet soulless ghoul Suella Braverman, the new Home Secretary. She immediately distinguishes herself by trying to legalise torture.

And then, naturally,

YEAH THAT'S RIGHT IT'S TICK TOCK TERF O'CLOCK also FUCK the sovereignty of the Scottish Parliament amirite ladies lol Girl Power uwu

Not that she can actually do anything at this point, of course. As I say: Enforced Mourning is in process, which means Parliament is shut down for ten days. No work, no speeches, no appearances, no announcements, just taxpayer's money going on legal fees to see if she can interfere with another nation's elected government in order to strip away the human rights of queer people.

However, while we all weep over the corpse of Queen Lizzie Two and beat our breasts in grief, the already-beleaguered pound is slowly bleeding out through this inaction. And this, to the Maths Mates, is unacceptable.

Two things get quietly slid into the news cycle.

Thing the First:

BIG YIKES LADS

Thing the Second:

Fracking ban in England lifted in bid to boost UK gas supply - BBC News

For those who don't know, fracking is an energy extraction process. Water, gas and dust are pumped at high pressure into shale bedrock to crack it open, releasing pockets of natural gas that can then be harvested for fuel. It's environmentally disastrous for multiple reasons, both direct (earthquakes, groundwater pollution, social impacts) and indirect (IT'S STILL A FOSSIL FUEL YOU STUPID CUNTS ARE YOUR SKULLS FUCKING EMPTY). The Welsh and Scottish governments have both banned it outright, a straight-up "Foot down no, petal". England, though, is the Tory paradise, so the ban was less complete.

However, this is still a Huge Deal - the 2019 Tory manifesto was very clear that fracking would only be unbanned IF "the science shows categorically that it can be done safely". In fact, most Tories don't like it either. Their constituents REALLY don't. Also in March Kwasi Kwarteng literally went on record and said it wouldn't lower European gas prices anyway; but not anymore! Now he thinks it's a zippy idea. Just spiffing. Top hole, pip pip (I'm so good at their accents :))

Scientists who have been studying the environmental impacts of fracking produce their report -

And it is quietly buried, so as not to offend the corpse of Lizzie Two.

Here ends the first four days of the Reign of Liz Truss.

Second Week

Anyway, royalists have gone insane and started a REALLY BIG queue to see a box that supposedly contains the rotting cadaver of the old queen. Multiple people have to be hospitalised because they join the Queue and don't take food, water, warm clothes, or essential daily medications with them, even though the Queue is literally days long. Some die. Many take the ashes of their own loved ones so they can wave them at the box for the thirty seconds they get to be in front of it, like a sort of play date for ashes.

Prince Charles, now King Prince Charles, starts swanning about as King, demanding everyone be sad for him and clap him to cheer him up. Someone holds up a sign saying 'Not my King' and gets arrested. This triggers a whole wave of protests and arrests as free speech slides out the window, until the Met Police chief has to step in and explain to the police like they're five-year-olds that they can't do that, actually, and need to cut that shit out.

But we can't wholly blame the police, because the main pressure to clamp down on protestors actually came from...

The government.

Meanwhile the country goes bat shit fucking insane. In order not to offend the fragile sensibilities of royalists, now so brittle they need to be treated with the same delicate touch normally reserved for unstable nitroglycerin, the UK sees supermarkets lowering the volume of self-serve checkout desks, people's funerals cancelled, vital operations and other medical interventions postponed, Centre Parcs cancelling holidays, FOOD BANKS CLOSING, Nintendo Direct cancelling its live stream in Britain (but not cancelling the release of the recording onto You Tube an hour later because as we all know Queen Elizabeth II was a MASSIVE livestream fan and would have been DEVASTATED to miss it but she was very 'meh' about YouTube), cycle racks being closed, and this unhinged shrieking harridan:

Very normal, lads. Very normal.

Oh and also they cancelled Owain Glyndwr Day so as a Welsh person I am now legally allowed to forcibly ram a daffodil into the urethras of the landed English gentry.

However, the protests grow as the suppression wanes. By the time King Prince Charles comes to Wales, he is met with silent protests, this guy who learned a sentence in Welsh specially for the occasion, and a petition to abolish the Prince of Wales title.

Except government is still shut down, so the petitions are all suspended.

But not to worry! That gives the Maths Mates more time to work on their special mini-budget.

Week Three

More of the same at first, really, but she finally addresses the nation to announce that the Queen was the "rock" on which "modern Britain was built".

Also someone finally spots that the necklace she always wears is a day collar, so that was fun.

BUT THEN

The moment we have all been waiting for, with baited breath.

On the 23rd September, 2022, the mini-budget finally arrives. The golden egg of Kwasi and Liz, their beloved, beautiful child, the crowning glory, the culmination of their economic beliefs and values. They are so proud of it, so sure of it, that they do not even submit it for the approval of the Office for Budget Responsibility. Why should they? This is the moment Kwarteng can finally show the world that he was right; that this is the way to do economics after all; that he alone in his brilliance and genius has reinvented the field and will lead the country to a new era of riches and prosperity.

And the pound does this:

Yikes.

Truss goes into hiding for a day and a half, during which time her aids claim all her relatives have died so she won't have to speak to the press, which is obviously a simply fantastic quality in a Prime Minister. Finally, she resurfaces by doing a series of radio interviews for regional stations around the UK, hoping they'll be easier on her, starting with Radio Leeds. The good journalists of Yorkshire eviscerate her and strew her corpse through Adel Woods. It's downhill from there.

Week Four

One poll puts Labour 33 points ahead of the Tories.

It can be a little difficult to translate polls, because the electoral system is complex, so I asked my journalist friends. They cheerfully informed me that, if translated into a General Election, the Tories would have just 3 seats left.

Except! Of course, naturally, that is me reporting naught but the most extreme result, Tumblrs, dancing upon the bones of my enemies as I chant the rites to make the Tory party die faster. If I were to be fair about this - and I am, of course, a journalist of Integrity and Morals - I would actually give the average poll result. And I am wise and fair to all, ancient rites aside, so I shall.

The average poll result is still 19 points ahead.

Tony Blair's landslide Labour victory in 1999 was 12 points.

Rounding off the day, Labour declare that they are backing a change to a proportional representation voting system in place of the UK’s archaic first past the post system. Funny that.

Anyway, that mini-budget is going poorly. Realising unlimited borrowing rather than tax cuts for the rich is maybe Bad Actually, the Maths Mates decide to get the money for their bail-outs some other way. Can you guess, Tumblrs? Can you guess where they decide to get the money from?

Naturally.

Week Five

In a fascinating little twist, the papers claim Liz banned King Prince Charles from going to the Climate Summit in Egypt. This is interesting for about a billion reasons, not least of which is that the papers seem very angry about this and yet also that it's an unsubstantiated rumour - the phrase "it's understood that _" gets a hell of a workout.

She then does not go herself. Makes sense. They'll probably be mean to her about the fracking.

She then loses the support of the Daily Mail, a paper that five weeks before were ecstatic about her rise to power :( so sad. But why? What made them change their minds?

Well. What else from Truss, but a massive and catastrophic u-turn on the economy?

And she does! The absolute nutter!

Plans to cut the 45p tax rate for those earning upwards of £150,000 were abandoned, as were:

abolishing the planned rise in corporation tax

cutting the basic rate of income tax

the two-year energy bill support plan

scrapping the planned dividend tax hike

VAT-free shopping for international tourists

freezing alcohol duty

easing of IR25 rules for the self-employed

ALL GONE! All gone. The mini-budget is not working so lol jk we'll think of something else, that's how government works, right? The pound promptly implodes further. Of all people, Nadine Dorries is the one to criticise

WE ARE IN A TOPSY TURVEY UPSIDE DOWN WORLD

The Daily Mail still finds a way to say it's all Michael Gove's fault, though.

Anyway, the 5th October dawns bright and beautiful and YouGov polls rural voters:

THIS IS HUUUUUUUUUGE, because farmers just will not fucking stop voting Tory, AND YET. Wowsers. Not just popularity. Voting intention. She might as well have personally infected every farm in the South Downs with foot and mouth disease.

Truss realises her popularity is plummeting and she needs a new audience. She tries to appear down with the kids and declares that she's the only PM to have gone to a comprehensive school.

This is not true. Gordon Brown and Theresa May both did. However, it's certainly true that all three of them became PM by ousting a sitting PM, so there's that I guess.

Week Six

At this point I can start putting in PRECISE DATEs just call ME Robert Peston.

13th October

News reporters start speculating that she'll be done by the end of the month as the first rumoured letter of no confidence reaches us. People realise that her competition for shortest serving PM was a guy who died in office of TB at about the four month mark RIP king sorry about your lungs.

(A reminder - normally, if MPs want to oust a party leader, they must send in 54 letters of no confidence. This makes the 1922 Committee - a bunch of back benchers who preside over this shit - hold a vote of no confidence. A leader who loses gives way - this is very rare. A leader who wins is then immune to another such vote for 12 months, but they almost always crumble within a month or two anyway - this is much more common.)

This is extremely funny, because a newly-elected leader of the party has a 12 month immunity to votes of no confidence, same as people who've won such a vote. Likes charge reblogs cast apparently. MPs are getting desperate.

Pressure mounts. Chancellor Kwasi Kwarteng announces that he is "Not going anywhere."

14th October

Chancellor Kwasi Kwarteng is sacked and blamed for the entire economic mess.

Incredibly, Liz does this without first planning a replacement, so it's several hours before Jeremy Cunt suddenly reappears like the spectre at the fucking feast.

Meanwhile here's Ed Milliband on Twitter

Seven and a half years he waited to retweet that. Seven and a half long years, look, to have the last laugh.

In the end, he still went too soon.

15th October

Deputy PM and also Health Minister Therese Coffey (side note - have they always doubled up in roles like that? Or are there just not enough of them anymore?) announces that she loves antibiotic resistance and dead kids and also breaking laws:

16th October

The Sunday Times calls for Extremely Corrupt Former Grand Vizier Rishi Sunak to take over, and then a General Election so that Labour can take the reins.

The SUNDAY TIMES

Calling for LABOUR

The Sunday Mail tries to stir up support for Ben Wallace taking over, because no one has heard of Ben Wallace so he needs the boost, but then accidentally publish their front page with a different man

In another YouGov poll for the Times, not a single political group, age group, area of the country, gender, or other demographic said that Liz Truss was the right choice for PM

This is the new predicted election graph:

Yikes

17th October

The projected election results are a Labour victory so complete the opposition would be the SNP. Legend suggests Nicola Sturgeon's cackle on finding out was so powerful she accidentally resurrected a witchfinder.

18th October

Meanwhile in the Senedd, Welsh Tory leader Andrew RT Davies, a sort of humanoid boil dressed in ham, tries to accuse placid and gentle First Minister for Wales Mark Drakeford's Labour of being responsible for long ambulance waiting times.

T'was a mistake.

youtube

19th October

Oh boy.

Well, first of all, Suella Braverman sends an official email from her private email address, and then promptly leaves the Cabinet at cannonball speeds as though she's seen a brown child about to be given citizenship. Was she quietly fired by Jeremy Cunt? Did she do it deliberately to resign? On her way out, she blames the true source of our problems - the Guardian-reading, tofu-eating Wokerati.

Nigella Lawson spends the day tweeting tofu recipes.

Meanwhile, Graham Brady, the Chair of the 1922 Committee, comes to Liz Truss to inform her that he has in fact now received 54 letters of no confidence. Normally, of course, that would be considered enough to trigger a vote in her leadership; but not now.

However, these are unprecedented times. So he changes the threshold - if half of the Tories send him letters, her immunity will be revoked.

But the thing is, Tumblrs, the thing is...

It is all about to kick off in the most spectacular and catastrophic fireworks since Guy Fawkes had a dream.

Because Ed Milliband, once accused of leading the country to chaos and now riding high on the joy of his well-timed Twitter jab of Some Days Ago, wakes this morning and chooses violence.

He has spotted, of course, that no one likes fracking; even the Tories are against it.

He has also spotted that Liz Truss is very stupid.

So he goes into the House of Commons, and he digs a big pit and covers it over with twigs and leaves so it can't be seen, and he bakes a big cake and he places it in the middle of the twigs, and he sets up a net to fall as well and a big stick of ACME dynamite, and he hammers in little signs everywhere saying CAUTION - TRAP, by which I am of course being metaphorical because what he actually does is table a motion to extend the moratorium on fracking. The signs aren't necessary, really. This trap is easy to avoid.

All Liz Truss has to do, you see, is not use a three-line whip on this vote.

The three-line whip, as you'll all recall, is the highest level of coercion. MPs cannot defy a three-line whip. MPs cannot even abstain on a three-line whip. MPs have two choices on a three-line whip: to vote as they're told, or to be removed from the party. You obey or resign. That's all.

For this reason, it's sometimes called a 'confidence vote', as it is effectively a stand-in for one. The vote is not about the issue at hand - this is now a vote of confidence in your leader.

(He's also laid lesser traps. Years back when fracking was first being heavily discussed, Ed was Labour leader and one of the main figures in those discussions. During today, before it all Kicks The Fuck Off, a Tory stands and challenges him on previous statements about fracking, trying to accuse him of hypocrisy.

He was fucking ready for it.)

Graham Brady pops his head back around the door. He's changed his mind - a third of the party is all that's needed now to trigger a vote of no confidence in Liz Truss. And legend says he's only 17 off.

This is presumably the reason for what comes next.

Liz panics. Liz sees she's desperately unpopular. Liz sees that she has to do something to shore up support; and she sees that her important fracking rule, which her party hates her for, is now being challenged by a former Labour leader, and if he wins (which he will) she'll lose all credibility and maybe they'll take her nice office away and tell her she was a Bad Girl.

And so, with the inevitability of gravity on the now-leaden pound sterling, she makes it a three-line whip, and a confidence vote in her government.

INSTANT CHAOS.

There is uproar! There is rage! There is blinding fury! Tory MPs are standing up in the Commons and snarling and pissing and moaning! No one likes fracking except Jacob Rees Mogg! For TWO HOURS they shriek and scream and gnash their teeth, yelling at Liz Truss, demanding to know why this is happening.

(Legend has it chaos-deity Ed Milliband simply leaned back, put his feet up on the chair in front, and made Christian Wakeford hand-feed him grapes and fan him with a palm leaf, but this is unsubstantiated.)

And then, at 6.55, FIVE MINUTES before voting is ready to begin, the Tory Minister for Climate Graham Stewart stands up and declares that everyone should vote how they want because it's not a confidence vote.

Did I say there was chaos before?

Lol. Lmao, even. Rofl, in fact.

Now Tories leap to their feet and basically all scream one long, unending breath of WHAT-DO-YOU-MEAN-IT'S-NOT-A-CONFIDENCE-VOTE-WHAT-THE-FUCK-IS-HAPPENING-IS-IT-OR-IS-IT-NOT-A-CONFIDENCE-VOTE and so Stewart gets up again and says, right to everyone's faces, "It's not for me to say whether it's a confidence vote or not," which is an even faster and more spectacular u-turn than Truss herself could pull off given that he literally just said it wasn't and did so while being a minister.

And then the voting starts. MPs are now milling about like chickens who've sighted the hawk, clamouring to know if they're going to lose their jobs unless they vote for Satan. The Whips - specifically Chief Whip Wendy Morton and Deputy Chief Whip Craig Whittaker - descend upon them like fucking wargs on the hunt. They don't just spit vitriol and blackmail into MPs ears. They fucking bodily drag people into the right voting lobby. MPs are legitimately screaming. Grown men are crying literal tears. Labour's Chris Bryant reports holding multiple Tory MPs as they sob into his shoulder. Multiple MPs report similar scenes.

And Tories still don't know if this is even a damn confidence vote, or if they should just knock the Chief Whip's teeth out.

And then the Whips, filled with bloodlust and frenzy, suddenly realise that NO ONE IS LISTENING TO US, YOU'RE ALL SUPPOSED TO LISTEN TO US SO WE FEEL POWERFUL -

Cue sudden meeting in a locked room with Liz Truss. For over HALF AN HOUR.

So is it a confidence vote? No one is sure. Deputy PM Therese Coffey thinks so, so in the absence of the Whips she decides physical assault is her job now and is seen by David Linden MP (SNP) physically carrying someone into the voting lobby. Jacob Rees Mogg thinks not and starts yelling "It's not a confidence vote!", to which his colleagues reply, "Fuck off." Meanwhile the Whips have possibly resigned, no one is sure. It is still uncertain if this was a confidence vote.

And Ed Milliband basks in the chaos, playing the fiddle while it all burns around him.

Finally, voting concludes. The Whips reappear to lurk.

The votes are in - the government wins, and fracking will go ahead. But.

32 MPs abstained.

And one of those is Liz Truss.

Which is WILD??!? What possible benefit could she get from that??? No one knows. Everything is uproar again. Guess who else abstained? Well, riveted reader, here's a list with important names highlighted:

Nigel Adams, Gareth Bacon, Siobhan Baillie, Greg Clark, Sir Geoffrey Cox, Tracey Crouch, David Davis, Dame Caroline Dinenage, Nadine Dorries, Philip Dunne, Mark Fletcher, Vicky Ford, Paul Holmes, Alister Jack, Boris Johnson, Gillian Keegan, Kwasi Kwarteng, Robert Largan, Pauline Latham, Mark Logan, Theresa May, Priti Patel, Mark Pawsey, Angela Richardson, Andrew Rosindell, Bob Seely, Alok Sharma, Chris Skidmore, Henry Smith, Ben Wallace, Sir John Whittingdale, and William Wragg.

Kwasi still smarting about that p45, I see.

In any case it then turns out that Liz DID vote, but incompetently, because her voting card didn't read properly, which is actually fair given that she was being screamed at by angry Whips waving Graham Stewart's severed dick and balls around while they demanded power and authority. While she's clearing that up, the press are understandably waiting open-mouthed for comment, but don't worry Liz! Your old pal Jacob Rees Mogg is here to fill in for you!

And thus it is that JRM willingly chooses to go on the live news and calmly confirm to the nation that no one knows if it was a confidence vote or not.

Chaos. Chaos again. Unbridled chaos. The Whips are furious. Everyone is furious. The rebels are now in limbo, unsure if they're now out of a job. Tories are weeping, trying to work out if Rees Mogg WANTS to sink the party. Back bencher Charles Walker MP delivers a frank interview to the press absolutely SHIVERING with rage, like the drummer in a Fleetwood Mac concert. Ex-Lib Dem leader Tim Farron, a bland man known only for the time he himself willingly chose to go on the news and calmly explain that he's a homophobe without provocation, tweets that Liz Truss is a Lib Dem sleeper agent they sent in to destroy the Tories, sparking what is likely to be a whole slew of conspiracy theories by next week. No one knows what is going on. They all decide to sleep on it.

The good folks at Wikipedia ultimately decide to make three separate pages for the UK 2022 government crisis, and to label them with the month "to leave room for another by the end of the year."

Ed Milliband skips all the way home, and treats himself to a bacon sandwich.

20th October

Okay, Liz thinks, the morning after. Okay. Last night was bad. But today will be better.

So first... the vote.

Because there's bad news for Tories who like money and good news for people who like liveable planets - there are problems with the vote. For one, the vote counts are being called into question. Are the results reliable?

For another, the Speaker of the House of Commons calls for an investigation into the reports of, um, assault. So will the result stand?

It's so unclear! And so is that ongoing issue of whether or not the damn thing was a confidence vote. Angry whips say YES, JRM says NO, Downing Street refuses to pick up the phone to the BBC, but does send ITV's Robert Peston a text at 1am to say it was definitely a confidence vote and, unrelatedly, the Whips aren't resigning :)

I think we have found the price paid to keep the Whips.

Meanwhile. Let's see what this has done for Liz's leadership stability!

13 letters of no confidence are confirmed submitted by Sky, 5 of which came in overnight. The 1922 Committee reconvenes the coven to discuss matters. Simultaneously, the One Nation Conservatives reconvene their coven to discuss the same. Presumably there is much "Girl what are YOU doing at the Devil's Sacrament?"-ing and "Same cloak, how embarrassing"-ing. MPs are CLAMOURING for her head. It is VICIOUS. It's like cartoon piranhas in a supervillain's lair; which is highly appropriate, because that's exactly what Tory MPs are.

Graham Brady, head jester of the 1922 Committee, demands to see Liz Truss.

He walks into a room with her, and the doors are closed. Half an hour later, he walks back out of the room.

Ten minutes later, she calls a press conference.

45 days after being appointed, Liz Truss breaks the record, and becomes the shortest-serving British Prime Minister.

#politik #the second clownfall of 2022

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

Text

A People Eater's Worse Nightmare

Yandere Parasite/Shapeshifter + G.N Reader blurb

Summary: They love you. What the fuck's wrong with them.

Warnings: Mentions of cannibalism

A nice big house. Large group of friends.

Yeah- this life was great.

Framed pictures of loved ones on the wall, freezer stocked full of meat. Beer cans on the coffee table and blood stains in the carpet. Such accomities made this place fitting to be their perfect home.

Shame they couldn't stick around.

[Hey, Dude! Last night was killer. You on for Sunday?]

The homeowner shoots a dismissive reply, sinking deeper into the revels of their catch present in the murky waters they reside. It was far too easy this time. A homebody with loose ties to numerous people turned the life of the party and friend group after a trip out of town. "Taking a new approach on life." And all that other horseshit that left people none the wiser to the horrors committed behind locked doors.

It was paradise, but too much of a good thing was bad for anyone's health. Getting to caught up in prey's daily life could make one sloppy. How people managed to miss those tiny spots of macroon in the rug or the smell that lingered was beyond them, but maybe that's just how primitive those claimed to be the top of the chain were. They needed to move ship, and fast.

A new message pops up on the screen, from a number simply marked with a heart.

[I had a really nice time with you last night. I hope we can meet up again soon.]

There it was. The other issue with being human. With how many lives they have under their belt, they've done this song and dance many times before. They've been married and divorced. Slept with numerous people in one night, and had committed friend with benefits deals. They could've made excuses for it all, but there was a side of them that longed for connect. An amalgamation of the feelings the one before them held and their own urges. There was many partners before this one and there would be plenty after.

So why can't they hit send?

[Hey, Y/n. Some stuff came up with my folks so I'll be out of town for a while. I'll hit you up when I get back.

A passage excuse. One that could potentially throw off their temporary mate if they were the type to overthink. For some reason, that got under their skin. Freaky. Maybe it's because they never managed to get them in the sack - or call them by their real name.

It's cool - By morning those feelings will be gone and they'll move onto the next. Just one more night and the homeowner would go back from social outcast turned devil worshipper - to a beast a little closer to home.

As their head sinks under the water, the homeowner just can't get that smile out of their head.

The parasite groans as it pull itself out of the bathtub. Hangovers were a bitch no matter what breed you were. It drags its heavy body off the floor and picks up the homeowner's phone. There's a missed message on screen. Their body suddenly feels lighter

[Hi. I saw you read my message, and I'm not trying to push things, but I wanted to invite you to breakfast if you were free.]

[Sure thing, Sweetheart. Just send me the locale]

The parasite hums to itself and it walks in front of the mirror, thinking about what to wear for its date with its partner. They open the cabinet to grab that perfume you said was nice on your second date-

What. What the fuck?

Ink slams the door shut; whiplash cracking the mirror. They stare at the exposed muscle structure of their skin, narrow eyes large as tennis balls. They - were themselves again, but they still as they did masquerading as that whiny little bitch. Their heart smiled in tune seeing that message, and their guts bubbled in anticipation for being beside the one to make them feel this way. They feel sick.

"What did you do to me. What did you do-"

Ink scrolls through the texts you've sent and photos you've taken together. You had to've done something. Poisoned them with some fucked up chemical. Snuck a part of yourself in their food to make them crave you so god damn bad.

Their search leaves them with nothing but a swollen heart and rage filled mind. They punch the mirror. Angry at the world, they still want nothing more than to see your disgustingly pretty face again.

"Fuck."

#Ink my oc #yandere oc #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere drabble #yandere teratophilia #yandere monster

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necromelli · 4 months

Text

checkmate [chapter one]

tw: none that I can think of? this is more setup for the rest of the story than anything else. if you think I should add something let me know <3

wc: 1.5k [semi-proofread]

a/n: one more chapter of set up before we get to see reader/finnick interacting on a more personal level.

[ prologue | next part ]

a fellow victor offers you advice, but you're weary to take it, especially after he steals your spotlight.

President Snow’s parties were a step above Capitol parties. More thought out, more intricate, more securely protected. You knew the moment you stepped foot onto the estate you were being watched. Audibly and visually. To ensure your loyalty — which you were ashamed to admit was dwindling — was as pristine as the other district two winners.

The entire thing left a sour taste in your mouth, akin to a poisoned lemon pastry; sweet, tart, and bloody. You hadn't escaped the taste of blood since the arena. You had come to rely on it as a constant, a daily occurring problem in the whirlwind of problems you had no control over. Enobaria had long abandoned you in search of a fellow victor, leaving you alone.

Watching the Capitolites had the potential to be amusing, if not for their murmurs of the most recent games. Of the bloodthirsty hound who was just so pretty. The pointed looks only added to your charm, the threats to hurt someone if you were touched. They liked it. It was nothing short of a game to all the nepo babies surrounding you. But, then, you, too, were no better.

The only reason you won the games was because of the training you received from an early age. In all sorts of weapons, how to survive on nothing. Rigorous training that ensured and earned you the title of victor.

“Hello, darling.” The hand on your shoulder made you flip the glass of champagne in your hand, the bottom of the glass against the stranger's chin. His only response was a low chuckle, a smirk twitching his lips. “You are an absolutely stunning, murderous little creature, aren't you?”

Your eyes flickered across his features. Perfectly styled blonde hair, that even with the buildup of product looked soft to the touch. Sea green eyes that were as bright as his smile, twinkling in the ambient lights of the party. Tanned skin with dark freckles that accentuated his features. You recognized him after a few moments. Finnick Odair — you studied his games at the academy. He looked older now, more mature than the boy who won at fourteen. He’d be eighteen, now, if you remembered correctly.

You swallowed thickly and removed the champagne glass from under his chin. You sat it on the tray of a passing avox. Shrugging, you respond. “Mmm… What is it they all call you?”

You hold your hand to silence whatever arrogant answer he was conjuring. “Capitol Darling, correct? The golden boy?”

A grin tugs at Finnick's lips, but he bites it back for a similar shrug. “Finnick Odair, actually. But, the flattery is nice.” You feel him step closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. “Have you heard what they call you?”

You started to frown until a passing Capitol citizen stopped to talk to Finnick. You couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy bubble in your chest. This was your party, and the blonde haired boy was stealing your spotlight. You frowned, then put on a far too pretty smile as you took the soft hand of the citizen.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” You asked sweetly, causing Finnick next to you to snort.

The capitolite’s face brightened upon seeing you, and she nodded quickly. She enveloped your hands between your’s, leaning in close as if you were best friends sharing a secret. “Now that I've seen you, absolutely. You did amazing. I thought district two lacked this year in their volunteers, but you proved to be nothing short of excellence.”

The fingers of the woman’s left hand trailed up your arm — icy hot against your bare skin, burning — and to your cheek. She cupped your cheek and then squeezed the corner of your cheek. “And such a pretty face. That boy from twelve just looked dirty. Too skinny. Weird round eyes—”

“That's enough.” You sneered, pushing the woman’s hand off your cheek. A part of you wished that you’d have let Finnick have her attention.

You could excuse her praises, but you couldn't excuse the fact she bad mouthed Jeb Sirpa. He did nothing wrong — he took care of his district partner. He took care of the young tributes, the girl from six and seven. He should've won instead of you. You firmly believed that.

“Stop! Stop talking so bad about them!” You shoved the woman on the shoulders, pushing her back. A frustrated groan rose from your throat when Finnick reached out to catch the woman. You stared at him, hands shaking mid-air. “They were kids! They didn't- They-”

Finnick was pulling the woman back, quick to try and comfort her. She was shocked, sure, spooked, but the capitol woman’s eyes dazzled with amusement.

She was looking at you like a starved animal.

You felt embarrassment flood your chest — red and hot and ugly. Finnick seemed more concerned about some Capitol vulture than a fellow district, a fellow victor. Someone who went through similar things. Your vision went blurry as you watched Finnick Odair and the woman. You pushed through the crowd blind. Your hands bent at the elbow and poked out, keeping people from touching you. You didn't care if you hit anyone, nothing mattered except the exit to the gardens.

You hit the door so hard that you knew your shoulder would be bruised from hitting the door open. The cold air caused goosebumps to rise on your arms, but that didn't stop you. You didn't stop until you were panting, near the rushing sound of the fountain.

You collapsed into the grass, letting your knees hit the soft greenery. The cold was grounding, as was the dirt beneath your knees.

Your outburst was stupid — at least in your opinion. You shouldn't care about those tributes you killed. They didn't make it. They weren't good enough. You won. Fair and square.

But their faces haunted you. Dark red stained the back of your eyelids. You didn't know their names, but you killed them. Them, who were kids. You, who was an eighteen year old killer. You who, despite knowing you shouldn't be, was still loyal to President Snow.

“Interacting gets easier if you pretend it's a game.” You turned your head behind you, taking in the sight of Finnick. You didn't hear him come up, silent on his feet despite the heeled boots. “Who are you?”

Finnick left the question open, but you didn't answer. You turned your back to the fountain, taking in his appearance once more. Finnick looked more relaxed now that he was away from the Capitolites. His shoulders slumped slightly, inwards as his hands rested in his pockets.

“Y/N: Capitol Pawn or Y/N: Capitol Queen?”

Your arms slid across your chest, tips of your fingers wrapping around your bicep. You tried to figure out the difference in his words, thinking about the game you watched Enobaria and Brutus play on the train.

The smallest piece on the board, a whole row of soldier pieces fighting loyally for the royal pieces. They had no say, no right to an opinion. They did what they were told, no questions asked.

But, the queen was the most powerful piece on the board — only being outranked by the king due to his positional power. Most deadly chess piece who appeared loyal. But, really, the king needed the queen to win. When all else fails, the queen saves the day.

The Capitol needed its victors. For entertainment, for keeping the districts submissive, extra large knights, rooks, bishops, pawns for the Capitol to extort. It was your choice to choose what you wanted to be: unwavering in your loyalty or self preserving?

“Funny.” You mused, looking away from Finnick. Your eyes stared into the fountain, watching the crystal clear water filter through the top. “What are you?”

Finnick was quiet for a long while, thinking best how to answer. He stepped closer to you, closer to the fountain. His words seemed to mix with the loud rush of the fountain. “I only play the part of a pawn.”

You hummed softly, soaking in his answer. When you said nothing, Finnick continued. “The Capitol isn't what everyone thinks — especially those of us from the more spoiled districts. We all think winning comes with glory and power. It doesn't.”

Your head tilted to the left slightly, eyes falling onto Finnick's face. He didn't look like a cheerful flirt anymore. You couldn't quite place a finger on the feeling, but, whatever it was, you didn't like it. It reminded you of the indecisiveness plaguing you, of the way you felt guilty for secretly hating the Capitol. It made you sick.

“Glory and gore, Queenie, be careful who you trust.”

Finnick locked eyes with you. His sea green eyes looked sympathetic — you couldn't see an ounce of pity. That shocked you. Even the older victors looked down at you with pity. Gloss did. Brutus did.

“If it gets too much to handle by yourself, come find me.” You scoffed in response, looking away. He wanted you to trust him? over the people who’ve kept you alive for years? “Otherwise, the queen falls and the king wins. Nobody wants that.”

Finnick let the words hang for another minute, watching the fountain. Then, without another word, he started back towards the mansion, leaving you outside in the autumn night all by yourself.

[to be added / taken off just lmk <3]

#the hunger games #catching fire #finnick odair #mockingjay #thg fanfiction #thg finnick #finnick x reader #finnick x you #fanfic #thg series #thg

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niiwa-angel · 9 months

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I absolutely LOVE the fact that Bruce and Ollie HATE their best friends spouses. Oliver cannot stand Barry while Bruce Bat-Glares at Hal whenever they're in the same room. Leading up to the wedding, Ollie and Bruce who are both their buddies respective best man, are trying to convince their friend to leave.

Ollie throws Hal a bachelor party with exclusively blonde entertainment. Male and female. The bartenders are all blondes. He's hoping that Hal will find literally ANY other blonde to shack up with, as long as he doesnt have to deal with BARRY FUCKING ALLEN.

Bruce tries a different, slightly classier, slightly less legal means if breaking them up. Bribery. He approaches Hal after a League meeting and pulls him aside.

Bruce: fifty thousand right now, in your pocket, if you break up with Barry.

Hal, dumb as fuck bless his soul: Why would I break up with Barry for fifty thousand dollars?

Clark and Dinah are both annoyed at their partners for being so immature. Bruce is ready to break his no kill rule just to get Hal away from his mystery movie marathon buddy and Clark intercepts all of his plans.

Bruce: People die of food poisoning all the time, nobody would think twice.

Clark: If you kill Barry's soulmate with bad chicken, I will sic the entire Daily Planet investigative journalist team on you. No secret Bruce Wayne has ever had will be safe.

Bruce:😠

Ollie tries getting Hal to leave Barry.

Ollie: Are you sure you want to Marry BARRY of all people? He's bossy, he's a shut in, he's-

Dinah, fed the fuck up: He's smart, he's got a good career, he understands that being green lantern takes up a lot of your time, he's cute.

Hal: I know, he's so amazing 😍

Ollie, trying not to barf: 🤢

The day of the wedding they both dial it up to eleven. Bruce is in Barry's space helping him get ready but the whole time he's very supportive of the idea of leaving.

Bruce: I'm just saying, there is NOTHING wrong with not being sure, if you need more time to think, we can leave right now. I'll have Alfred drive us to the airport right now and we'll go eat our way through Europe, no questions asked.

Alfred, who is very much looking forward to this wedding: No I will not.

Jay, about to walk Barry down the aisle:😡

After they get through the wedding and have been together for a while, Bruce still kinda pushes for a break up.

Clark: Barry's birthday is coming up, what are you getting him?

Bruce, not looking up from his newspaper: a divorce attorney.

Alfred, reaching over and smacking him.

Bruce, after a long suffering sigh: and a new microscope for his lab. He's been wanting one.

Then Wally comes along and all attempts stop because Bruce and Ollie are not going to be the ones to break up a family.

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 2 months

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03/08/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Cast&CrewSightings; DavidJenkins;RuiboQian;Samba Schutte; Alex Sherman; Rhys Darby Cameo; Fan Spotlight; SaveOFMD End of the Line Statement; SaveOFMD Billboard News and updates; Watch Party Reminders; OFMDCrew Gratitude Event; Kudoboard Reminders; New Kudoboards; Fundraiser Statuses; Articles; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika

== Cast & Crew Sightings ==

= David Jenkins =

Chaos dad poked his nose out to send us some lovely and encouraging words. "Your power is noticed and admired, Don't doubt it. Ever."

= Ruibo Qian =

Our Pirate Queen Ruibo Qian had so much love and support to send today.

= Samba BTS =

Samba's keeping us fed with little bits of BTS each day, thank you Samba. Full Video here courtesy of @daria-meoi

= Alex Sherman =

Oh Alex, our 'Ass Tonight' Guardian Angel. I love that he's just over here liking all our unhinged stuff on top of the usual porn.

== Rhys Darby Cameo ==

Our wonderful crew-mate @_irene_adler and the Our Flag Means Daddy crew got us a wonderful bed-time story from Rhys. Please check it out on Cameo.

== Fan Spotlight =

Thank you @melvisik for continuing to give us lovely collectibles for all our cast & crew. Tonight is Fred Armisen!

== Save OFMD Crew "End of the Line" Statement ==

"Like our inimitable captain Stede Bonnet, we aren’t ready to give up just yet. We are devastated by the news from David Jenkins that attempts to find an alternative home for Our Flag Means Death have "reached the end of the road", but we want to keep fighting—not just for Our Flag Means Death, but for all the shows cancelled before their time. Shows that people put their heart and soul into. Shows that create life-changing experiences for their fans." Please read the rest on the website here.

== Save OFMD Crew Billboard News ==

== OFMD Gratitude Event ==

Join the OFMD Crew on Saturday March 9th, 11 AM PST / 2 PM EST / 7 PM GMT / 8 PM CET, follow OFMDCrew on Twitter.

== Watch Party Reminders ==

03/09/2024 there will be a watch along with the German premiere of OFMD Season 2!

@OurFlagRTL at 1PM EST/4PM GMT/5PM CET #OurFlagRTL.

Feel free to watch in any language you like! #SaveOFMD#LongLiveOFMD

= Wrecked =

Wrecked Season 1 Catch Up Party Starts Tomorrow at 8 am CST / 2pm GMT on the #RhysDarbyFaction server, feel free to reach out if you need access.

= Coming & Going =

Tomorrow 3/9, 9pm cst - 1030pm cst / (3/10) 3am gmt - 430am gmt on the #RhysDarbyFaction server.

We know it's awful, we're getting drunk and having a laugh.

== Kudoboard Reminders! ==

= Taika =

Kudoboard Link

The board will stay up until March 12th, and we will share the link with him on March 13th. The Kudoboard is monitored prior to approval to prevent trolls from jumping in (so if you don't see your additions right away, that's why!)

== Cast & Crew Kudoboards ==

In addition-- thank you to @sharpenyersword on Twitter for setting up ALL THE KUDOBOARDS!

Go send the cast and crew some love folks!

David Jenkins

Nathan Foad

Con O'Neill

Ruibo Qian

Leslie F*cking Jones!

Matthew Maher

Samson Kayo

Alex "Ass Tonight" Sherman!

David Fane

Fellow OFMD Fan Crew!

== Fundraiser Statuses ==

Many fans are turning their grief and feelings of poison into positivity. Since this post by @gentlepanpirate was posted this afternoon around 1:45 MT, the eSIMS and Sanitary Products for Gaza has gone up 12%. Do you have a few dollars to spare? Everyone doing just a few dollars will move it up fast. If not no worries, please consider sharing the link instead!

givebutter.com/OFFP3

= In Soup Now =

In Soup Now in honor of Kristian Nairn's favorite charity Team Haven Belfast, is at 17% Great job everyone working on helping feed unhoused neighbors. Can't donate? No worries! Please consider sharing the link!

https://givebutter.com/OFFP3

== Articles ==

Lot of articles tonight yall. Remember that every one of these shows you made an impact. It sucks cause a lot of them say "failed to find a home" which isn't true, we were robbed of one. But they still matter. The fact that they wrote anything at all shows we've been making waves. You still have power, as Chaos dad said. They didn't take that from you.

Our Flag Means Death Creator David Jenkins Confirms Show Has Reached the End of the Road

Our Flag Means Death Fails to Find New Home After Max Cancellation — Read Creator’s Statement

'End of the Road': Our Flag Means Death's Fate Confirmed by Creator

Our Flag Means Death Creator Addresses Chances of Series Return

‘Our Flag Means Death’ Creator Raises White Flag on Former Max Comedy

‘Our Flag Means Death’ Creator Says It’s “The End Of The Road” After Comedy Fails To Find New Home

Our Flag Means Death Is Officially Done After Not Finding New Streaming Home

Series creator: No new home found for canceled 'Our Flag Means Death'

Our Flag Means Death Creator Confirms The End Of Cancelled Max Show

Our Flag Means Death creator couldn’t find a new home for the series, which is now officially on its way to Davy Jones’s locker

Our Flag Means Death season 3 not happening, creator confirms

Our Flag Means Death creator “officially confirms” show cannot be saved

Our Flag Means Death Canceled After Two Successful Seasons

Our Flag Means Death officially over as the queer series fails to find a new home

El creador de ‘Our Flag Means Death’ dice que es «el final del camino» después de que la comedia no logró encontrar un nuevo hogar.

Our Flag Means Death creator says it's officially the 'end of the road' after show fails to find new home

OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH IS OFFICIALLY OVER, CREATOR CONFIRMS SEASON 3 FAILS TO FIND NEW HOME

Unfairly cancelled show fails to find new home: ‘It’s the end of the road’

Heartbreak in the High Seas: Our Flag Means Death Officially Sails Into the Sunset

== Love Notes ==

Hey lovelies.

I know some of you found out the news later than others, and it's still very raw for you. I'm sending so much love your way, I know you had less support than some of us when you found out and that's got to feel terribly lonely. I've talked to some folks who were fine yesterday, and not okay today, and vice versa. Just know we are here luvs, we are here, and we're happy to talk. We're all going to be grieving for a while. So please be kind to yourselves. Give yourself some grace, it's okay if you can't do much right now. It's okay if you don't finish that gif set, or that artwork, or that fic. It's okay if all you do is get by today. You are doing enough. It's okay if you need to have distractions so you're doing twice as much as you did before. Distraction can help a lot with nervous energy. Give yourself room to be creative, and to let your mind wander, it could use a break. Take some time to laugh if you can. Laughter really can be healing. I wish I had some advice for tonight. I wish I had some better words of encouragement, I know it's all very hard right now for everyone.

Please just know a few things, and you've heard them before, but I need to hear them once in a while so I'm going to say them to you.

You are loved.

You are worthy.

You are enough.

You are beautiful.

You are kind.

You are exactly the way you should be.

You are loved.

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Just som giggle from our two guys to hopefully bring a smile to your face.

Daily Darby Courtesy of @fandomsmeantheworldtome

Tonight's Taika Courtesy of @IBrokeCharacter on twitter.

#daily ofmd recap #daily ofmd recaps #ofmd daily recaps #ofmd daily recap #ofmd #s3 renewal #our flag means death #rhys darby #save ofmd #taika waititi #samba schutte #david jenkins #ruibo qian #alex sherman #chaos dad #ofmdfancrew #saveofmdcrew #adoptourcrew #longliveofmd

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party-poison-daily · 1 year

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#27 — party poison tbh creature…

this is different from my usual stuff considering i usually work traditionally, but i think its nice anyway. i might do more digital pieces in the future, let me know what you guys think.

#mcr #my chem #my chemical romance #mcr fanart #fanart #art #danger days #danger days: the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #the fabulous killjoys #killjoys #party poison #tbh creature #party poison daily

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shitty-little-mcr · 1 year

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Day 23, party got a haircut (this is like their 3rd year in the zones, desperately needed a haircut)

#back to the grind 💪#mcr #my chemical romance #shitty mcr daily #gerard way #mikey way #danger days #party poison #kobra kid #killjoys

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morallyinept · 8 months

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Pedro Boys - Dom, Sub or Switch? 🤔

Another day, another Pedro Boys ramble.

☝🏻I'll mark this NSFW 🔞 as it gets a bit spicy with the boys dirty talking...

I apologise now for my terrible Spanglish. And the length of this ramble. 🫠 Sorrynotsorry.

Enjoy! 🖤

Joel Miller - Sub

Okay. Keep your green flannel shirt on and hear me out. Joel's out here saving your clumsy ass on the fucking daily. Watching your back, making sure you don't eat the poisonous berries n' shit out a Buick later. Nuh darlin'. They ain't good for ya. But twenty year-old canned Chef Boyardee? Now we're talkin'. He's ensuring you don't get munched on by walking Goombas. Get the fuck down! Stay quiet! I mean, this greying geezer is the epitome of dom swagger, right? The Protector? It's the broad shoulders and creaky knees that make your days old, yeasty panties (because let's face it, the apocalypse ain't pretty, babe) moist as hell for that surly old man. But, what if Joel exudes so much energy keeping you alive and not being fungi-bait, that when it comes down to getting jiggy wid' it after what feels like an exhausting monotonous lifetime, he just wants you to take the reins so he doesn't have to think about it? Hmm?? Yeah? Naaaah. Fuck that. Joel Miller is a motherfucking dom who will always fuck your shit up, dick you the hell down, and leave you a quivering, soaked mess, no matter how bad them knees get traisping and wheezing up five thousand flights of stairs at the ripe ol' age of 56. Give him a few minutes to recuperate and then he'll be on you like hornets on a sticky toffee. Ain't gon' suck itself, darlin'. Open. Good girl. Eyes on me. Take it deep. More… like that. Yeah. So good for me, ain't ya? Can ya breathe? Then ya ain't doin' it right. Did I say stop? Put it back in your fuckin' mouth.

Joel Miller - Sub ☝🏻DOM

Francisco Morales - Switch

Frankie loves to pull the ol' switcheroo on ya, hermosa. The man is rabid, foaming feral one minute, yanking you about as he pounds you from behind with your wrists held together at the base of your back. Take my fucking cock. Yeah that's it… Cum all over this cock. Go on. Fuuuck! And then the next he's on his knees pleading for you to just touch his leaking dick as he makes a mess all over the polished hardwood floor, whining and pouting like a little boy who just dropped his ice-cream. Please, baby. Touch it. I-I need you. Fuck. Please let me have it. Por favor hermosa, lo necesito tanto! Please! PLEASE!

The cap stays on either way.

Ezra - Switch

Although a switch, Ezra will tend to lean more towards submissiveness. Mostly because he loves nothing more than watching you take the initiative, Birdie. Enamoured by strong heroine-types with fluttery eyes, who can expertly handle his thrower, this rambling man is soon silenced to mush when you put your finger to his lips and push him down on the dirty bunk straddling him and sliding down that thick, oozy appendage. But when Ezra goes dom, he goes dark. You think you know pleasure, that you know the scaffold of pain? Oh, little bird. Your knowledge lacks bounty. But in this moment right here? I'm afraid for both of our sakes, I must riposte. Dark and depraved, oh Kevva you won't believe the levels of depravity this Southern outlaw will stoop to when he goes prospecting deep in your pussy.

Dieter Bravo - Sub

Dieter is a sub, mostly through lazy convenience; a side effect from all the dope. The man simply doesn't have the energy to peel himself from his bed, the floor, the tea party on the ceiling, to whip out the cuffs and chains for kinky shenanigans. He'll make you do all the work as he tops from the bottom lying back on the pillow, a fat blunt on the go and telling you exactly what he likes and feels through red, droopy eyes. Lick my balls, baby. Ohh-hoo, like that. Mmmmyeeeaah. Fuck, I'm so excited... No, really I am. No, I'm not falling asleep... I swear.

*Imminent snoring and drooling.*

Agent Whiskey - Dom

This cowboy dandy has an accoutrement of lassos and whips, do you really think Jack is a sub? C'mon now, sugar, you know better than that. Jack's favourite rope trick is tying you up and watching you squirm against him as he brushes that fuzzy caterpillar against your ear and whispers all the filthy, un-gentlemanly things that this denim clad lonestar is going to do to you. Christ, you look so fuckin' good all tied up n' helpless like this. You listening good, sunshine? Cuz ol' Jack's gonna make this a rodeo you won't forget any time soon. Hoo mama! Now then, you remember your colours, sugar? Good. You might be needing em'. I'll make sure of that. I promise.

Manners maketh the man, afterall.

Javier Peña - Dom

Pleasure dom Javier is all about the, uh, pleasure. This crafty agent doesn't need any whips, chains or paddles, ohhh no. He takes his sweet, sweet time in annihilating you, breaking your back from all that damn arching you'll do. Drawing out every fibre of your orgasms into his waiting, moustached-mouth, then'll continue to stimulate you further, even when it's too much to bear that you hiss like a rattlesnake at him. But he's relentless. He's smothering. This Loredo lothario's smirking at you through a smoke filled pout as you writhe and moan for more of this sassy man-slut with the resting bitch face and tight ass jeans. Always wanting more, cariño. Qué codicioso, cariño. Me dices que quieres que pare, pero ambos sabemos que quieres más…

No, that's not Javier instructing you how to parallel park. That would be: Ahora, ponga la marcha atrás y gire la rueda hasta bloquearla. Ahí lo tienes, tranquilo. Cuidado con la acera. ¡Míralo! - Either way, it still sounds sexy AF, right? And that hijo de puta knows it.

Oberyn Martell - Switch

Purveyor and indulger of endless sumptuous delights, it makes sense for Oberyn to be a switch because that man likes to have all the fruit and nuts he can cram into his eager mouth. And the man likes his nuts. He exudes gentle dominance with subtle dance-like movements; fingers pushing against your clavicle, eyes roaming over your sweat sheened body, and teeth pulling at your flesh as he tastes the honey you pour freely into his mouth. Oberyn can own you with a simple crook of his lips. The sub side of him is slack, cool and relaxed as you climb on top, conquering that mountain, and pin his wrists above his head as he eyes you back with subtle, yet proud, mirth. Tell me, does this seat make you feel powerful over your Prince, hmm? Good. Worship me. I promise to do the same in return when you've had your fill of me, sweet one. But be cautious, for we will do it my way. And I will hold nothing back as I fuck my bastards into you.

Marcus Pike - Sub

Mr Pike just wants to please. He's a people pleaser. A yes man. An avid pleaser in the bedroom too. Please, Mistress. Can I have some more? All the pleases with whistles and bells on. Despite being an FBI agent and catching the bad guys, there isn't a mean, dominant bone in this gentle man's body. He's a sickly-sweet sweetie pie. He loves you, getting hard on your happiness, and will do anything for you. And I mean a-ny-thang. You want to put that in my… in my a-ass? Okay, I'll try it. Go slow, please… oh fuck. Oh fuck. Yeah! Yes Mistress. Damn that feels soooo good! Oh please, more. I want more. Don't stop. Mmmm! I'm so close already! Can I please cum, Mistress?

See? Told you. Anything.

Dave York - Dom

Like you're surprised. This man's name should have been Dom-as-fuck York, am I right? And you just know that Dave is a darkest-always-before-the-dawn dom. Sleek and pre-ordained. Cool and collected as he presses the duct tape down over your lips and checks the cuffs are tightly cutting into your wrists. Dave's inner sadist delights in your discomfort, revels in your pain, babe. Loves to see the water bead in your eyes; your mascara tears making his cock harder still. He grips you by the chin as your muffled breaths hiss out from under the tape. Look at me when I fuck you. You're such a little whore for me, hmm? Parading yourself in front of my wife. Well, now you know what happens when you act like a slut. Don't you? You won't be making that mistake again, will you? If you do, you know what'll happen. And I won't be this gentle next time. No. Next time I'll make you bleed. Don't you even fucking dare think about cumming right now. Sluts don't get to cum. You're just a hole for me to use, baby. Whenever I want...

Dave's the dark, twisted asshole of your masochist candyland dreams. You still keep going back for more though, despite his threats. I mean, you would, wouldn't you?

Pero Tovar - Sub

As much as Pero likes to convince himself that he's a man in charge, can take on a sly task and see it through without ending up in the stocks, that misguided front soon crumbles as soon as you present either food or your pussy at him. If you offer both at the same time, there is a very good chance you'll see his brain sluice out of his ears and plop in flumpy mounds around his feet. Pero won't be able to articulate anything to you in comprehensible language amidst the jangled bear growls that'll collide against his teeth. Girl, you just gon' fucked up that Spainard. Now, feed the hungry bear before he mauls you. Rawr.

Din Djarin - Dom

The metal man cometh. Or, at least he'll be making you, especially around that thick, hard Mandalorian helmet of his. And we ain't talking Beskar steel, if you catch my drift… This Space Daddy Dom knows exactly how to make you fly, Mesh'la. He's had years of practice trawling the galaxy and endless amounts of alone time whilst The Kid is tucked away in his pod, to hone his edging skills so that he lasts, keeping you on his cock for hours and hours until you lose your damn mind and all you see is nebulonic stars. Din doesn't say much, just lets the sounds of his grunts echo through the modulator into your rattled senses. When he eventually cums after having his fill of you, he only utters one groaned word in abject satisfaction: Wizard.

Marcus Moreno - Switch

Naturally there are two sides to Marcus Moreno - Super daddy hero by day, super daddy hero by night. Or both, it doesn't really matter the time. And this also extends into the world of bedroom pleasures as Marcus loves to be the good guy pleasing you and watching with doe eyes as you take what you want; what he'll so eagerly give you through soft hummed smooches and gentle, deep thrusts as you sit in his lap, swollen and full of him. But behind that heroic demeanour lies a villain in wait; itching to get out and play very, very dirty. He'll flip you forward onto your knees and leaning over you as he drives his hard, thick point home, will whisper into your ear you're mine. This pussy is mine. Say it. Tell me whose pussy this is, huh? That's it. That's right. All mine. You fucking know it, baby. Stop squirming, I'm going to fuck my pussy good and hard and you're going to take all of it. Scream for me, baby. I wanna hear you scream my name.

Max Phillips - Sub

Don't be fooled by this vampire's bite. The fuckboi leech is subdued by mere fucking sunlight for Christ's sake. So it's safe to say the moment you whip out your tits, cold and frosty Max Phillips will melt into a puddle of warm, bloody goop at your feet. Yes Sir! Max likes to act tough, to intimidate, to pop his fangs out and feast whenever he likes, but when it comes to your pussy, Max Phillips is, what is it the kids used to say? Ah yes, pwned. Max likes to think he'll bend you over and fuck you on his desk, but it'll be the other way round, trust me, sugartits. You gonna give it to me? Right here? Fuck yes, I want it! Bend over? Oh, okay. Oh, fuck yes… bite me, baby. Yeah. Yeah! Oh you're doing it like a champ! Harder baby, oh fuck yeah!

What a pussy little bloodsucker.

Silva - Sub

There's nothing I can say about Silva other than this handsome cowboy is utterly and irrevocably submissive for his lover. Gentle, slow and pained. Determined, unwavering and sincere in his devotion for the D, Silva's travelled miles across the sweltering country, being constantly chafed by his saddle, just to get some hunk o' lovin'. If that's not the definition of primal submission - or just plain idiocy, that chafe man, s'gotta be a mean one - then I don't know what is. Silva doesn't talk, he just whines, moans and falls apart from every pore as you top that peachy, pert bottom of his, before you pull out and cum all over it. Mmm, peaches n' cream. 🍑

Comandante Veracruz - Switch

Leaning more towards his dominant side, Veracruz pendulums his way into both territories freely, such is the will of a true Guerilla soldier. Of course, he loves nothing more than to wield control through menacing threats and shiny blades pressed against your throat, or thigh. Choking you as he pummels into you and foaming at the lips, licking the sweat from your face and whispering filthy things about your tight, drenched cunt and how it squeezes him so. He's loud. All his men can hear it around the jungle as he grunts and snarls and snorts whilst claiming you. Veracruz confidently wears the dom title like the grenades hanging from his tac vest; a pair of big balls swinging in the breeze. But watch that beast of a man squeak like a timid field mouse when you slide a finger into his tight, puckered hole - which if he were waterboarded, he would vehemently deny he enioys - and lose his shit as he nuts all over himself, only for him to beg that you do it again as you milk the Comandante of all of his aggression. More, querida. ¡Más adentro! No pares… Fuck! You're liking this, aren't you? Mmm. Just you wait… fuck… I'm going to fuck you up after - Shit! I mean it, cariño. Going to fuck your pretty ass like you're fucking mine right now. I will fucking destory that ass! Ohhhh… fuuuuuuck. You're so fucking dead, baby. Mmmm.

Maxwell Lord - Sub

Most people who are dominant in their day job are usually submissive in the bedroom, and Maxwell is no different. Shifting the power dynamic, Maxwell wants to forget the stress of trying to take over the world and falls to his knees as you stroke through those golden honey locks making him shudder. He's a whimpering, quivering mess as the word mommy slips from his lusty lips. Apt that he has mommy issues; men whose mothers love them don't try to annihilate the global population. So, mommy dearest just has to ensure that her good boy Maxwell behaves and flies straight. Please, Mommy. I'll be good for you. Please… Let me have it. Please. Yes. I'm your good boy. Thank you, oh thank you, Mommy. So good. Oh, I'm such a good boy! Mmm…

Javi Gutierrez - Subby AF

Silly old bear Javi G is the subbiest of the subs who have ever subbed. And that's saying something. Look up the words subby little baby in the dictionary and Javi's doofy grinning face is next to it. With those puppy dog eyes, and the fact he would literally jump off a cliff for you, Javi G gets so excited the minute you click your fingers and direct him to your playroom, that he's already cum in his tight, striped speedos on the journey there - twice. Eager for whatever creative punishment you wish to dole out, Javi always wants more until he's on his back sweaty, sore and strung out like he's on LSD. And let's face it, he probably is. That pussy is divine inspiration. Please, I want to experience it all. Will you give it to me and hold nothing back, yes? Yes!... Like that! Oh, dios mio, it's going to be so fucking gooood! Oh shit. Shiiiit! I just came. I know, we haven't started it yet. It's okay, we go again. Yes?

🖤

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velvetvoltage-05 · 9 months

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Chat GPT X The Daily Life Of The Fabulous Killjoys

/"Think you can actually draw something that doesn't look like a mutant rat, Party?" Ghoul teased, earning a playful glare from Party Poison.

"I'll have you know my rat graffiti is a masterpiece in its own right," Party Poison retorted, his voice dripping with sass./

I wanna see the rat graffiti soooo bad!

- XO Velvet Voltage ⚡

#danger days #chatgpt x killjoys #killjoys #my chemical romance #fabulous killjoys #party poison #fun ghoul #my chem #dangerdays headcanons #the daily life of the fabulous killjoys #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #ttlotfk

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kiarabanetmi · 3 months

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Hazbin Hotel: Episode 4 Discussion

I’m here to discuss my opinion in the controversey/arguments/backlash regarding episode 4, specifically the lack of trigger warnings and the Loser Baby song. If this triggers you or you do not want spoilers please keep scrolling and have a good day.

So brief overview before the episode: this episode dealt with SERIOUSLY dark topics that made my stomach turn, through Angel Dust and his servitude to Val. He’s an abused, trapped victim in a horrendously horrifying situation, one that many people in the real world are stuck in or have experienced. And there are very real S/A moments in the episode, specifically during the BDSM filming scene and the throughout the rest of the Poison sequence. (Please note, as a person who has lightly participated in BDSM and is constantly trying to learn it, KNOW THIS IS NOT TRUE BDSM! BDSM involved safety in losing one self, with a TRUSTED PARTNER/S and a safety system in place so all parties can be comfortable, secure and SAFE and not judged for stoping). And the fact that there was no trigger warning other than a 18+ rating is actually very troubling. Amazon, get your ass in heat and give a trigger warning on this episode! This is a legitimate concern.

This scene is haunting. And it did its job well. We see behind Angel’s facade, how he had learned to survive the abuse and r*pe he suffers from Valentino and who he’s forced to have sex with for him. And we also see he’s still a good person under it. He knows his situation is fucked and tried to keep Charlie away for her own safety and tried to protect her from Val as well.

Then he goes home and starts to self destruct. Husk was right. I’ve self destructed for different mental health reasons and even though my actions and way of self destructing is different from Angel’s, the mindset is the same. He’s been through hell that day, and the facade he put up is being criticized and put down by Husker. His safely net is being taken criticized and invalidated (even if it’s not healthy but just the best thing he can do in this unwinnable situation).

The the bar scene and the confrontation happens, as well as Loser Baby. The main critiques I see are these:

One: Husker is trying to compare his situation to Angel’s, which is “inappropriate and callous”. I mean, angel is S/A’rd for hours on end by strange men and Val daily/weekly and Husker is just indebted to Alastor right? There’s no comparison. Well that’s wrong for two reasons in my eyes. Firstly, we haven’t seen what Husker goes through with Alastor. What does Alastor have Husker do? Could he force Husk to do things, awful things, like Val does to Angel, just differently? We don’t know. But he doesn’t have control of his own life due to his own choice and situation, just like Angel. Second, I don’t think not trying to compare his situation to Angel’s, he’s trying to relate to him. Notice how Husk only tells Angel about his past AFTER Angel actually breaks down and tells him about how he tries to escape and hope to break enough that Val will get tired and let him go. That was the TRUTH, so Husk responded in kind. He’s not trying to compare his experience. Angel was finally honest; so tired and in so much pain he couldn’t keep up the facade and showed the truth. Just like Husk wanted. And in return for that honesty, the honest Husk kept telling and telling Angel to be, Husker opened up himself and shared him pain and past. (Also the fact that Husk was an Overlord is so fascinating and I hope it’s given more background information at some point! What he an Overload of gambling? Did he own his own Casino or business? What was his “department” or “specialty?”)

Second: Husker is telling Angel to “suck it up and accept his situation as hopeless,” and just punching Angel while he’s down. That’s not the situation at all, at least in my point of view. Remember, Angel is used to people complimenting him on his looks and videos by sick and greedy fucks or just being beaten and told he’s worthless by Val through physical, sexual, and verbal abuse. So what makes Husker calling Angel a loser any different? The fact that Husk is saying he’s a loser as well. He’s no longer seeing himself as better than Angel, or at least better than the facade Angel puts up. He’s also including himself in the saying. He’s saying “you’re a loser, and so am I.” He’s not saying “I’m better than you” or “suck it up, it’s hopeless so suck it up and accept your fate.” He’s bonding with Angel in the fact that they are both in shitty, fucked up situations (ones both of them chose: you have to WILLINGLY offer/bet your own soul) and instead of being fake with each other, they can open up to each other and understand each other. Val calls Angel a loser because he sees himself as better, and sees Angel as his property, and due to the soul contract he is. No one else calls Angel a loser cause he’s one of the most famous and valuable pornstars and assets in hell. Husker calling Angel a loser is to make him see that they’re alike and Husker is being brutally honest for the right reason. He’s right they are losers. Both of them are indebted to psychos who literally hold their lives in their hands. They have no autonomy and no way out and were there due to their own choices. (This does NOT mean they deserve what they get! And this does NOT mean that what Val does to Angel ok! It will NEVER BE OK!)

Three: everything is resolved after the song and we’re supposed to believe it’s all better? The song solved nothing right? It’s just fluffy bullshit shipping fodder to distract and devalue the hell Angel went through not even ten minutes ago. Well yes and no. It didn’t solve Angel’s situation at all, not even close. There’s still no idea as to how to free Angel from Val or make his situation better. And Angel will still have to go back to Valentino and be abused by him and those he has to work with. It doesn’t solve Angel’s plight. But that’s not the point. This song is supposed to be a turning point, even if it’s a small one. Until this point, Angel had only acted in his armor facade around husk, and Husk hasn’t bought it or even liked it. He said as much multiple times. At this moment, during this song, Angel and Husk finally begin to see eye to eye, and that they can be someone real to each other (the extent of that relationship will be explored down the line I’m sure), but they’re not immediately best friends or anything. It’s a start. And Angel realizes that while also having Charlie in his corner despite her severely bad attempt at helping on the porn set, he also sees that Husk is also someone who is like him and he can relate to. When you finally find someone who has been through a similar he’ll you’ve been through in a horrible situation, it does feel good. It makes you less alone. And when you are less alone you can start building a better foundation to become stronger.

These are just my POV on the episode. If you don’t agree with anything I said then that’s fine. I was just sharing my own opinion. And that’s what it is, an opinion. Not everyone is entitled to feel the same way I do. If this episode makes you hate the show now and you don’t feel comfortable watching anymore then that’s fine. This show has a very specific audience. My father and mother and some of my friends would never watch this show for various reasons, and that’s fine.

Hope you’ll share how you felt about the episode.

I may also make another post later about Poison and how some of the lines actually can relate to all forms of abuse, even domestic abuse and not just S/A.

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