#that absolute garbage pile of a human being

[little-pondhead]

[inspired roughly by this post. My brain snails started going nuts so I thought it'd be easier to post this separately :)]

…

It was a lovely day in Gotham. Well, as lovely as it could be. The sun was up, peeking through the overhead cloud cover and making the buildings gleam in the rare sunlight. The air was fresher than usual, and faucets ran clear of strange and unusual toxins.

Somewhere in the Upper East Side, in a little neighborhood tucked away from the rest of the city, marched around the new boss of the area. She was a young girl, just barely in high school. But despite it being the middle of a work day, she wandered around her chosen streets, content to do whatever she wanted. Above her, a pair of siblings watched on and discussed the unique situation.

"So let me get this straight: that fourteen-year-old goth girl is a crime boss?"

Mia smiled at Leon, her older brother, and his dumbfounded expression as they rested on her balcony. "She's fifteen, actually. Her birthday just passed. We all got together and threw a block party for her!"

"You know how insane that sounds, right?" Leon turned to her, a bit miffed that she dared to say those words to his face. "She's a kid. Why do you all listen to her?"

Mia shrugged and sipped her beer. "She does good work. Holds her own pretty well, and the kid has connections. Good ones, too. That can be the difference between life and death in Gotham."

Leon rubbed his forehead in frustration. "I just don't get it. How did she end up in this line of work? Do child labor laws even apply here?? Why aren't the Bats doing anything?"

"Don't think about it too much, dipshit." Mia crushed her now-empty beer can in her hand and tucked it into a paper garbage bag hanging off of a hook on the balcony rail. A familiar set of green arrows was printed on the side.

"And now you're recycling?!" Leon realized. "When did you start doing that, Mia??"

The woman shrugged and got up, stretching. "Probably around the time Brambles absolutely reamed out Mrs. Zalinski for littering at the park."

"Wait, who's Brambles?" Leon scrambled upright and followed his sister inside.

Mia laughed. "Brambles is our fifteen-year-old crime boss!"

...

"I can't believe you got a cool name right off the bat," Danny grumbled, flopping onto Sam's bed face-first. Sam smirked and shoved him off with her foot. Danny just squawked and let himself ragdoll to the ground.

"It's your fault for not having a better gimmick." She said to his prone body. "Besides, it could've been worse."

"I think Inviso-Bill is the worst possible nickname for anyone." Danny groaned. "But you got something cool immediately. Who even thought up 'Brambles'? That's such a unique name!"

"Well the kids call you Grim; that's pretty cool."

Danny flopped over, twisting himself much farther than any human was supposed to just so he could glare at her face. "They only call me that cause one of the is obsessed with Harry Potter." He grumbled, pouting.

Sam just rolled her eyes and went back to sorting through piles of papers scattered all across her duvet. Since moving to Gotham several months ago, Sam had taken it upon herself to turn the experience into something useful rather than just moping all the time, as she originally wanted to. That 'something useful' had landed her as the newest crime boss in Gotham, with about a third of the Upper East Side as her current territory.

So many problems had popped up in the last year, and the group had decided that taking it on alone would never work. The GIW had been trying to close Amity's borders, Danny's parents had a scientific breakthrough, tensions in the Realms were high, etc. There was a lot on their plate! Sam's solution was to create a foothold in Gotham City. She would lay the foundations for Jazz to work in Arkham and forge a safer environment for the residents of Amity Park to sneak off to if the GIW went too far. She was essentially weaving a cushion for everyone to fall back on.

Danny, using the power of duplication, was splitting his focus between foiling his parent's plans and resolving issues with his rouges to create a united front. He was the main distraction, and Sam's own heavy hitter when she needed help establishing dominance.

Tucker planned to gather intel with the help of Technus and Jazz. They were trying to gather as much evidence as possible so they'd be in the clear when the whistle blew. The GIW would crash and burn, legally speaking. They were the bugs of the operation, spreading themselves thin and hoarding information like it was candy.

Dani was their wild card, their jester. She was keeping the JLD's attention focused solely on her and all the supernatural hijinks she was stirring up. When the time was right, she'd point them in the direction needed and let them loose. After winding them up so much, the hope was that the Justice League Dark would descend upon the GIW like hellfire.

But those were their future plans. Right now, Sam was in possession of specific files from Arkham Asylum and the GCPD. She was looking for anything to give her an edge in the upcoming meeting with a few other crime bosses. Some annual thing they host to renew Goonion contracts, see who's still alive, and examine how much the territory lines have changed. Stuff like that. Red Hood was supposed to be there, and she knew she needed an ironclad defense against him and his nosy colony of Bats.

Danny untwisted himself all of a sudden, making a weird face. "Sorry, got to go." He apologized. "Vlad just showed up to my house."

Sam waved him off. "Go, I'll be fine for today. Just be on time for the meeting on Friday. And I want you, not a double."

"You got it!" Danny did finger guns at her and promptly melted into a pile of green goo. Right on her bedroom floor!

Sam sighed and got up to throw a towel over the puddle. The ectoplasm would evaporate eventually, returning to the original Danny little by little. But for now, this would keep anyone from asking about it until it was all gone.

Sometimes she really hated living in student dorms. People always felt the need to burst into her room for no reason.

Who even made dorm rooms for high schoolers in the first place??

...

Jason couldn't help but stare at the new recruit.

Well, 'new recruit' wasn't exactly accurate. 'Potential to be the most headache-inducing supervillain' was more like it. Standing at a solid 5'10" with platform boots, Brambles, the newest crime lord who had taken over half of the Upper East Side in under four months, was almost tall enough to look him in the eye straight on. Which she tried to do anyways, tilting her chin up oh-so-slightly (in that stupid way aristocrats do when they want to look down at you) and glaring at him with open hostility.

Brambles was young, way too young to be in this line of business. At the start of the annual underground crime meeting (yes, they couldn't come up with a better name), she had announced that she was fifteen, went by she/her, and would snap the dick off of anyone who looked at her funny. Most everyone laughed at her, thinking it was an empty threat. Brambles proved it wasn't by sucker-punching a younger lieutenant who tried to get handsy with her five minutes into the meeting.

When the lieutenant's boss protested and threatened a gang war, Brambles had snapped her fingers and summoned what could only be a fucking pit demon from the depths of hell to threaten the man back. The creature looked like a teenager, just like Brambles, at first. But it was...off. The longer you looked, the worse it got.

It wore a draping black cloak that covered most of its body, with the ends turning to mist when it reached the floor. It had a pale, young face and white hair. Its eyes glowed just like Brambles', except they were a toxic green that made Jason's heart skip a beat in fear. The creature was snarling, with a fucking muzzle on it to keep its sharp teeth away from wandering fingers.

With a nod from Brambles, the creature bounded forward and knocked the guy to the floor, its arm elbow-deep into the guy's chest. The dude looked terrified, and a little sick "Would you rather lose a lieutenant or your life?" She had snarled, sounding almost a bit demonic herself. The other boss had backed down without another word, writing off his subordinate as dead and gone.

Instead of killing the guy, however, Brambles simply banished her little guard dog to a corner of the warehouse to play with its new toy in peace.

"Is she allowed to do that?" Someone whispered.

"They weren't unionized, so the Goonion won't say anything." Another answered.

It was the most awkward meeting in the history of the criminal underworld. No one even died since they were all focused on the newcomer.

Jason could feel a headache forming as the meeting came to an end. Brambles was still sitting in her chair. The creature had grown bored of its toy and was leaning against her, sprawled out lazily and barely flicking an ear at the onlookers in acknowledgment. A few people were idling around her, mostly women, trying to talk some big game and get on the kid's good side. Brambles was humoring them, taking tight control of the conversation when they got too prying.

Jason sighed. He knew he'd have to go over and have a talk with the kid, even if it was just for Bruce's files. He hauled himself upwards and stalked over. "Pardon me, ladies and gents, but I'm going to borrow the kiddo here for a moment."

The creature hissed at him, tensed at his approach. Brambles kept a tight grip on the back of its muzzle, keeping it grounded. The other criminals scattered like flies. They were the only two (three?) left in the warehouse within minutes.

Bramble rose to glare at him. "What." She spat. "If you're here to convince me not to get involved with anything, I will set Grim on your ass after lighting it on fire."

The creature, Grim, growled in agreement. The sound echoed strangely like he was hearing it from underwater.

"Relax, I'm not here to do any of that." Jason raised his hands in surrender, immediately abandoning that possible line of thought. "I'm just here to talk business. You're young, and while you don't want to admit it, inexperienced."

"Stop the fancy words, Red Hood." Brambles' eyes glowed again, and she released her hold on Grim's muzzle. "If you want to make a deal, say it to my face. If you're here to dig for information, either ask me or hit the road. I prefer honesty over flower talk, so tell me what you want before I take over your area, too."

Jason bristled. His vision was tinted green as he snapped, "What the fuck is your problem, kid?! I just wanted to make sure you were safe and not being forced to do this. I was even going to offer my support and protection if it was too much! I know you aren't going to stop, but that doesn't mean I want a kid to die just because they got into something they shouldn't and they think their fancy guard dog will always be there to protect them!"

Brambles' eyes stopped glowing, and her stare softened a bit. Grim went deadly still, just floating there, staring at Jason. His heart beat like crazy in his chest. What was he saying? It was all true, but he could've been nicer about it. Dick would've found a way to be nicer.

-krrrk- "Ibis, reporting in. I think you can trust him, guys. Even if he's a Bat, his connections and experience would be useful in our plans. Ibis out." -krrrk-

Jason flinched from the sudden noise, looking around to find the source. It sounded like it had come from everywhere, even inside his own helmet. Brambles immediately switched out her hostile look for an annoyed one, tapping an earpiece he hadn't noticed before.

"Ibis, you really have to stop opening up our comm lines to the public." She snapped, but there was no real heat to it. "And I thought I told you to stop eavesdropping!"

-krrrk- "Sorry, can't help it. I'm everywhere now! You shouldn't have given me this power." -krrrk-

Grim hissed.

-krrrk- "Don't hiss at me, young man! You were the one who suggested this!" -krrrk-

"I'm sorry, time out!" Jason made a T with his hands. The green from his vision had completely disappeared now. "What the FUCK is going on now?"

Brambles sighed, rubbing her temples. "You know what? Fine. We'll trust you. My name is Sam. Nice to meet you, Jason Todd."

Jason stepped back, immediately reaching for his gun. Grim darted forward and promptly flew through him, stealing all his weapons in one go. "I'm Danny!" Grim-Danny?-chirped in a human voice, giving him a shit-eating smile. "Sorry for the act, Mr. Hood. And sorry about the name drop, I'm the one that told them."

-krrrk- "I'm Tucker! There are more of us, but they're busy. I have literally so many questions for you, Mr. Hood." -krrrk-

"Now that introductions are over-Danny don't eat his smoke bombs, you're not gonna look like Dorathea-we'd like your help."

Jason squinted at them. "You understand this is all suspicious as fuck, right? And how did a pit demon find out who I am?"

-krrrk- "Yeah, we know. But lives are on the line here, and I think you'd really be a help!" -krrrk-

Brambles-Sam-sighed and pulled out a flash drive. "I was going to use this as leverage, but I guess it'll have to be useful in other ways." She tossed it to Jason, who numbly caught it. "Look over it if you want. If you don't, then just burn it. Do not try to plug it into the Batcomputer. Don't try to send it to the Batcomputer, either. A virus will target that specific IP address as soon as it makes contact. Any other computer is fine."

"Look it over, and we can go from there," Danny added, spinning in midair while chomping on one of Jason's knives. (His good one, too!) "And I'm not a pit demon, but I am dead. That's how I knew about you. Whatever brought you back to life gave the Realms a real headache for a while. It wasn't hard to look you up in the records."

"This is so much information. Lives are on the line? And two, three kids are dealing with it? By becoming crime bosses?"

-krrrk- "Technically, Sam's the only crime boss here. And that was kind of an accident. She was supposed to create a safe foothold in Gotham in case we needed to evacuate our town. But we all got cool nicknames out of it! And you're the only adult we've told this stuff to!" -krrrk-

"I'm what?"

"The only adult." Sam's unwavering gaze seemed to pierce his soul. "There are quite literally no other adults that can help, Red Hood. None that we trust, not really. Any adult intervention needs to be planned carefully so it doesn't backfire on us. We're trusting you here, Jason. Not only are you like us, which technically puts you in danger too, but you have power and connections to support a whole town of people the government wants to eradicate."

Jason looked at the little green flash drive in his hand. He didn't want to ask. "And this...?"

"A fruit basket," Sam said simply. "Originally, it was supposed to be blackmail. But instead, this is a present to show our goodwill and faith. To show you our skills. That drive contains information on other gangs, upcoming rogue attacks, chemical breakdowns of Joker Venom and Fear Gas, unfinished antidote formulas, etc. Tucker and his team scoured the underbelly of Gotham and gathered dirt on every single prominent figurehead. Including Bruce Wayne, should you choose to use it."

"I would never-"

"But you've thought about it." Danny cut in and scratched his neck. Jason's hands shook. "It's not a bad thing. It's just the nature of the dead. Wanting to right the wrongs left over from their time with the living. Even if you walk and breathe now, that doesn't mean desire disappears."

"The point is, we need help. Even if I'm loathe to admit it." Sam rolled her eyes, and suddenly, Jason didn't see a potential supervillain in the making. He saw a teenager trying her best, shouldering the responsibility of hundreds of people, both in Gotham and her hometown. Danny looked the same, no matter how other-worldly he was. What battles were they facing? Why weren't there any adults to turn to? What kind of lives were they leading if they immediately trusted a known crime lord with their lives upon the first meeting?

"I'll think about it." Jason finally said. Danny trilled in excitement, and some tension bled out of Sam's shoulders. "If the situation is bad enough, however, I'm calling in someone else for help."

Danny shrugged. "As long as it ain't Batman! I don't think he'll appreciate us smuggling a town of liminals into his city."

Sam poked Danny's shoulder, prompting him to look at her. "Let's go, before you break his brain with more info-dumping. Bye Red Hood!"

"Uh, yeah. Goodbye!" Jason stuttered. He watched the two kids walk towards the exit door, before shimmering out of sight before they even touched the handle.

What the fuck.

#danny phantom #dpxdc #kinda strayed away from the prompt #and that's why its a separate post not a reblog #long post #not beta read #no beta we die like danny #pondhead writes #this leans into more of a ‘Sam did it on purpose but said it was an accident’ #Tucker read the vibes from all the way in Amity and the other two just roll with it #Tucker: we can trust him #Sam: here’s our entire life story then #Danny: I hope you don’t mind us info-dumping :) #Danny will eat anything #he’s a growing boy! (hopefully) #he wanted to look like Dorathea when she’s a dragon #I cannot stress enough I don’t know shit about dc #so if someone is already in charge of the upper east side #then shut up Sam is their boss now #not continuing please don’t ask I will cry #someone else is free to take over from here #it’s literally just brain vomit to get myself going

[reallyromealone]

SOULMATES PART 2

WARNINGS: MALE READER, OMEGAVERSE, SMOOCHING

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

(name) was bleary as he was brought to a place that seemed like an endless castle, set on a soft bed as Muzan crouched beside him "you will live here now, you're my omega and I have expectations of you"

(Name) let the Alpha change his clothes into more elegant sleep clothes, his hands colder than the lake water "you're human so what you experienced would be rather traumatic on your body, sleep" Muzan said bluntly, never leaving room for discussion "we will discuss this when you wake"

(Name) was too exhausted to argue, body betraying him as it relaxed into the bed, the blankets and sheets soft on his skin.

Muzan knew it would be inevitable for them both to grow attached to one another, the bond of being soulmates would make it impossible otherwise, he just had to be patient.

(Name) slept for nearly three days, monitored by Muzan as he slept through his body recovering, now that he was near his alpha his body was becoming healthier.

He was pleased his mate was a sibling of a pillar, having something against them would be helpful indeed.

(Name) subconsciously moved closer to the scent of spices and bourbon, a strong hand caressing his face "I know you're awake, I can hear your heartbeat" Muzan said as (name) cracked his eyelids open "hello Omega"

"...are you going to kill me?" (Name) asked softly as he was lifted into a sitting position, Muzan surprisingly gentle with the Omega "it would be counter productive to kill you" Muzan said simply as he cleaned any sweat from the omegas face "you're my soulmate, if you die then I die and if either of us die, its said to feel worse than death for both parties"

"Where am I?"

"The infinity castle, my domain" Muzan had no right having such a smooth voice, eyes burning into him "don't leave the areas permitted, you will fall to your death if you do so"

"I-I see"

"I suppose we should talk about expectations" Muzan said formally, eyes unblinking as he stared down his Omega.

(Name) can't believe it got to this point, he was mates with the man responsible for killing those he cared for dearly... But his Omega preened under the attention from the Alpha, happy to have his eyes on him.

"Don't interrupt me while I work" Muzan started "stay out of the way"

"And I will kill whomever it is if you commit adultery before your eyes"

"I have some demands as well" (name) said pushing up that Shinobi strength, if he was going to be trapped here... Might as well lay down what he wants as well. Muzan raised an eyebrow but didn't speak "I want nesting materials, my omega likes your scent..." (Name)s voice was barely above a whisper as Muzan kept quiet "a-and I enjoy (hobby) and reading... If you want me out of your way, could I at least have something to do?"

"And I want to be the only Omega"

"Those things can be arrainged, the bond doesn't allow me to hold interest in anyone else"

"And... Would I ever be able to see my brother again?"

"Absolutely not"

(Name)s heart sunk at this, the realization that he would never see his loved ones again "could... I at least... Could I have a photograph of him?"

Muzans face was cold but his instincts made it hard to resist such a simple request "I can have one of my minions retrieve one" standing up he immediately went to leave, halting at the chirp that escaped (name)s lips, the Omega covering his mouth as soon as it came out.

Muzan pretended like his alpha didn't lose it over that sound and left.

(Name) awoke to the room filled with supplies for his hobbies and piles of books and nesting materials of the highest quality one could seak.

"This must have cost a fortune..." (Name) said softly, taking notice of expensive looking clothing boxes "I won't allow my mate to dress like garbage" Muzan said bluntly as he watched (name) open the top box, revealing an expensive looking yukata.

Muzan was definitely using items to remove any thoughts of defying him, wanting the Omega to be devoted and obedient to him as an obedient Omega is a less annoying Omega.

(Name) was already looking healthier, Muzan having made Daki get food for the Omega, something that made the woman bloodthirsty with rage.

She was doing tasks for a human!

This was far beneath her!

Though she would never ever do or say anything, he respect for her lord was far to high.

Currently her and her brother have managed to get a photo of a demon Slayer, the sibling of Lord Kibutsuji's Omega.

None of the moons have seen this Omega yet, their lord having kept him locked away from prying eyes and Doma as a concept.

Which fair.

She wouldn't want her mate near him either.

(Name) craved to see outside, missing the warmth of the sun under his skin.

(Name) was just thankful Muzan remembered that humans have needs like food and the restroom.

Muzan hadn't touched (name) since they got here, speaking to him when he woke and when he was going to bed.

The conversations weren't much, (name) mainly asking questions and getting short and simple answers.

He missed his family and the slayer's, before his soulmate he hoped he would possibly be soulmates with Rengoku....

(Name) crushed those thoughts, accepting his fate of being locked away in this maze of a castle with a mate who wouldn't touch him or look at him long....

Tengen was a mess.

His baby brother ripped from him "god knows what fate he's enduring..." (Name) was strong, he also came from the upbringing the white haired man had but he was no slayer....

"Muzan won't hurt him" Shinobi said simply as she stared at the distressed alpha "if he hurt him, he would receive the same pain"

That surprisingly did help him, knowing his brother couldn't be harmed.

"I need to get him back"

(Name) hummed softly as he worked on his hobby, distracting himself as the lights of the candles casted a warm glow on him.

Muzan didn't bother changing to his original form, wandering to his mates room in his female appearance and staring at the omega who looked so focused on what he was doing.

"Hello?" (Name) looked confused at him, a woman who reeked of his alpha and Muzan could smell... Jealousy? Interesting.

"What are you doing?" Muzan asked in his usual tone and watched his Omega calm down and assess what was before him "you're a pretty woman alpha" he commented, not even joking... Just an observation.

Muzan kept a neutral expression and stepped towards his mate, the Omega initiating contact by taking the demons clawed hand and having him sit beside him "I'm almost done..." (Name) said softly, showing him the project and explaining the process.

Muzan knew all of this already, having lived so long he's seen it all but he let the Omega explain his passion and the demon Lord found he enjoyed seeing his mate so dedicated to something.

"I will be working late" was all Muzan said before standing, the Omega grabbing onto the sleeve to the alphas yukata with a whine, clearly touch starved.

Muzan knew omegas were needy creatures and sighed.

(Name) yelped as he was lifted by his alpha, still in female form but none the less a force to fear.

(Name) hesitantly rested his head on the others chest, finding it to be soft and comfortable as the demon walked down the endless halls till they reached a room, a floor desk and many books scattered around "this is a part of my lab, you aren't to go into the other rooms, it's dangerous for a human like you" and if (name) gets hurt, that could be bad for Muzan.

Muzan set (name) in his lap and began working, the Omega subconsciously purring as he got to be close to his mate, his Omega forcing him to crave the touch and attention of the demon and (name) slowly gave up resisting.

Muzan let (name) play with a lock of hair around his face, focused on his work.

Then he felt warm lips against his cheek, eyes widening as he glanced at (name) who snuggled into him, body slowly slumping and Muzan adjusted him so his head rested on the others thighs and listened as the others breathing and heartbeat slowed down, the Omega falling asleep.

Muzan continued his work as his fingers gently raked at the nape of (name)s neck, close to his scent gland.

After that Muzan was more willing with contact, the two spending time reading with (name) in his lap or close to one another and though Muzan was still as chatty as usual it didn't matter as like his brother, (name) could converse for hours.

Muzan usually would have killed anyone who spoke this much but the Alpha found himself enjoying the sound of the omegas voice, their heartbeat... Muzan realized he was in love with the human.

His mate.

His soulmate.

Past Muzan would have been appalled at what he was doing, the demon gripping (name)s neck and jaw and pulling him into a demanding kiss, the Omega squeaking slightly and clinging to his suit but reciprocating the kiss.

(Name)s lips were sweet and warm, unlike Muzan having a firm grip the Omega gently cupped his jaw with his hands, thumbs gently rubbed his cheeks as he turned to straddle his lap and move the kiss into a slower pace.

Muzan was surprised he let the Omega do that.

He wouldn't ever admit it but he would let the Omega get away with a fair bit.

"My heats... It's soon" (name) said softly as they parted, (name)s head foggy from the kiss as Muzan gently pecked at his lips "will... Will you join me?"

"Of course, I am your alpha am I not?"

(Name) smiled and let the Alpha steal his lips once more.

#demon slayer x male reader. #demon slayer x male reader #demon slayer x reader #muzan x male reader #muzan x reader #male reader #omegaverse #omega male reader

[obscuritory]

Alright we're gonna talk about BATTLE DOME

You asked for off-topic content, so we're gonna talk about one of my obsessions from the past year: BATTLE DOME.

I know there's a lot of Y2K-era nostalgia now, but if you lived through the Bush years, you probably remember that the early 2000s were a cultural wasteland of amped-up, testosterone-addled, hyper-sexualized garbage.

At the top of that pile was BATTLE DOME, a short-lived TV game show that aired for two years in syndication, presumably to low viewership. BATTLE DOME attempted to blend the over-the-top athletic competition of American Gladiators with the hypermasculine, character-driven soap opera of professional wrestling.

The result was maybe the stupidest show ever to air on television: an extraordinarily dangerous game show where competitors regularly walked away with serious injuries, interrupted by scripted melodrama that played like it was written by and for horny middle schoolers. It is spectacular, and it's almost too unintelligible to be offensive.

The pitch for Battle Dome is simple: three random competitors compete in a series of demanding physical events against THE WARRIORS, an ensemble cast of underemployed Los Angeles-based bodybuilders, stuntmen, and MMA fighters, who have come together here to play a collection of cultural stereotypes and beat the absolute shit out of the hapless contestants.

Here's one of the warriors, Mike O'Dell, a grotesquely muscular dude presented as a white-clad golden god with uncomfortable Aryan overtones. He's at least a head taller than all the contestants and could probably eat them.

There's also T-Money, played BY A YOUNG PRE-FAME TERRY CREWS IN HIS FIRST ACTING ROLE. Getting him on this show was an incredible casting coup in hindsight.

Every event on Battle Dome has a simple objective, like knocking your opponent off the monkey bars. Except this is Battle Dome, so the monkey bars are 15 feet off the ground. And the bars are shaking. And there's a massive man kicking you in the chest.

They call it Aerial Kickboxing.

But the real highlight of Battle Dome are the terrible wrestling plotlines they interject between (or sometimes even during) the events. They're usually arbitrary, poorly written, and just an excuse to make the beefy men fight each other. In this episode, T-Money is pissed at O'Dell because he's underperforming.

After an episode's worth of O'Dell and T-Money throwing barbs at each other, they finally must come to blows. Bobbie Haven, the "sexretary" to the Battle Dome Chairman, demands that the warriors must compete in ULTIMATE BODY SLAM to decide who is the number one warrior!

What is ULTIMATE BODY SLAM, you ask?

I've never been into pro wrestling, but I get the sense that part of the fun of pro wrestling is being a "mark," suspending your disbelief and buying into the fake reality. I do not know how you can do that for Battle Dome. The problem is that the Battle Dome warriors are competing against real humans, which makes their fake absurd antics even faker and more absurd. There is no kayfabe. There is no hermetically sealed world of Battle Dome fiction. This is more like Legends of the Hidden Temple with punching.

But you know what's definitely not fake on Battle Dome? The violence. This show is brutal. Concussions are received. Bones are broken. Even the actors aren't immune to injury. Terry Crews said years later that he almost got set on fire once during an event.

The tagline for the show was "Real Warriors, Real Pain," and at least the second one of those is correct. Pain is the only real thing in the bizarre world of Battle Dome, where emotional truths have been replaced by body slams.

This is clearly not a good television show, and it is incredibly fun. 20+ years removed from airing, it's much easier to laugh at. If I wanted to show someone what American culture felt like at the turn of the millennium, I would show them Battle Dome. I would show them its bacchanalia of testosterone, its bizarre miscalculation of human drama, its Tommy Wiseau-style acting and understanding of women, its unrelenting grinder of human bodies, and then I would get popcorn.

PS: Here are the two announcers for Battle Dome: Steve Albert (right), professional sportscaster; and Scott Ferrall (left), shock jock and professional feral man, dressed like he's about to go on a cruise inside a surrealist painting. Albert does the play-by-plays, while Ferrall screams incoherent horny color commentary in a gravely voice that sounds like he's been smoking six packs of cigarettes a day since kindergarten. They are truly a dynamic duo.

#battle dome #sort of wrestling? #wrestling #the culture immediately before 9/11 is fucking crazy

[eldritch-spouse]

Okayokayokayokay one niche kink I never really get into because if it were real it would be gore and I dislike seeing it in art because it’s anatomically sanitised (if that makes sense) is “all the way through”. But since you’ll def write gore I HAVE to ask

Would any of your OCs fuck somebody to death this way? Like I know many wouldn’t have the body type to actually manage this, but those who do.

(And on the other side, who would like to be fucked like this? Aside from Patches the Whore)

[I think you're talking about the types of goofy porn where someone gets fucked through but it's just the head popping out the mouth, that's funny as shit.]

TW: Absolutely nasty levels of gore.

It's not really that surprising who'd go for this.

Kalymir is a big fan of impalement. And he doesn't always get to do it, so he cherishes the times he does. He remembers the old days, where a couple of humans would be stupid enough to summon him, but they never provided big enough sacrifices of flesh, so he'd take matters into his own hands and snatch the nearest cock-sock available. Mouth? Ass? Who cares, it's going in one hole and out the other! He finds it funny really, seeing the guts get squeezed out of his fucktoy with only a couple of thrusts. Kalymir makes sure the other ones are watching when he lets the broken pile of a former person drop to the ground before he picks a new, tighter little fuckpocket. If you're sick enough for it, you could suck the tip of his cock after he skewers someone on it. He'll really lose it.

Vesper isn't often that violent, you know this, but foul moods are still foul moods- And maybe you have to fuck them away. Sometimes he's cruel enough to shove both massive cocks into someone's poor hole, but they usually tear in two before he can reach the mouth, which is a shame, it tends to happen no matter how hard Vesper tries to hold the fucktoy together. Other days he'll only use the tendril between his cocks, jerking off to the sight, extending some magic to make sure his little meal keeps squirming long after they're supposed to. It's more practical to just impale two at once, flex his dicks and watch them hover like depraved little cock rings. Hah.

Krulu has had many opportunities to treat humanity like the garbage it is. And you, his sweet chosen, are often the one who goes hunting for his next warm toy. They usually start dying from exposure to him before he's even properly started, so the sensation of being impaled is probably only a tad more aggravating. Nevertheless, Krulu fucks them open hard and fast, which means he burns through fuckmeat pretty fast. But it's worth it, right? All that work is worth it because you can see his face twist in mad pleasure, his id fully satisfied in these moments as he gets to deform and disrespect the creations of his brethren, cum-soaked guts splattering on the altar.

Miara hasn't done this in ages. But it can and will happen when she wants to deal with wastes of breath on her own. It's not exactly hot for her, so much so as it's done out of pure malice. However, taking a sharp turn, if you were to present yourself to her and plead to die impaled on her cock (an honor), she would happily grant that end to you, affording you time to schedule it and making sure all of your last moments will be spent in pure ecstasy, even as your poor body tears at the seams to welcome her girth. People will remember you fondly, as someone whose devotion was unmatched. Miara will miss you.

Zizz doesn't really do it on purpose. He's just... A big boy. And sometimes he forgets to lend magic to his casual bed partners, especially when he's sleepy. And it's hard to notice when he's going too far when he's basically half-conscious, they don't get to scream for long anyway before he breaks the parts that let them do that. Yeah sure, it's weird how wet it's getting and there's an odd smell in the room, but it feels nice. Really nice. So nice. He doesn't want to stop it, even if it's evident something's gone wrong by that point. Then Zizz cums and promptly realizes he's holding onto a disemboweled sack of a person.

Gallon has done this. Very rarely, but he did. Slimes in general can be horrifying killers. The most skilled of them easily climb into your insides via a big-enough orifice and can effectively expand inside your organism until you hemorrhage internally and tear apart. He's more fond of just using his tendrils to suspend someone and carelessly push through every section of their insides. It seems to amuse his clientele too.

Vinnel would do it the exact same way if he didn't fear dying with enough mass outside of his own suit. Cured Vinnel definitely does this regularly, with several tendrils at once, taking a wild sexual thrill from it.

Sever has never impaled someone, but he might if angered enough. It's more of a domination thing than a kink for him.

Magus has no real desire to sexually skewer someone on his cock, but it has happened on a handful of occasions. Mostly when some unlucky small mer stumbled upon the bigfin squid mermonster while he was in heat. He didn't even think, just senselessly bred them to death, their bleeding body glowing a faint bluish hue from top to bottom. He doesn't feel particularly bad about it, as anyone with two brain cells can scent the male in rut, so only a fool would swim to their certain death.

I can't really think of anyone who would enjoy getting fucked this way apart from Patches, to be honest. Maybe Shags. He does love his erotic self-harm, and shrooms live through very grievous wounds, so it's likely he'd take enjoyment from feeling his insides get a little ruined. Not enough to die.

#Krulu oc #Kalymir oc #Mother Miara #Magus oc #Gallon oc #Vinnel oc #Vesper oc #Patches oc #Shags oc #Sever oc #Zizz oc #vaya-mernda #cw: gore #tw gore

[shitswiftiessay]

Swifties heard about people being sexually harassed and racially abused and their first thought was to gleefully tweet about “tayvoodoo” taking Lizzo down. This was because Lizzo apparently “shaded” Taylor weeks ago when she praised Beyoncé’s tour and said that “nobody” is doing it like Beyoncé- and of course they took that as Taylor shade and attacked her.

Not a single shred of empathy for the victims who came forward to speak out about the abuse they endured. To swifties, these victims’ stories were simply a part of Taylor’s revenge mission, nothing more than a victory for Taylor.

Absolute disgusting piles of human garbage.

#shit swifties say #racist swifties #toxic swifties #taylor swift #lizzo

[handeaux]

In 1872, Cincinnati Ground To A Halt As The City’s Horses Succumbed To A Virus

It sounds like something out of a science fiction movie. For nearly three weeks in the autumn of 1872, Cincinnati was paralyzed by a virus with no known cure.

Humans were not susceptible to this virus. It only affected horses, but the entire operation of Cincinnati life and business depended primarily on horses. When the city’s horses were incapacitated, Cincinnati screeched into paralysis.

The strange episode began one evening in October when Dan Rice’s circus rolled into town. Four of the horses showed symptoms of some sort of respiratory illness and were taken to veterinarian George W. Bowler for treatment. Dr. Bowler readily identified the affliction as the “Canadian horse disease” that was then infesting the northern tier of states but doubted it would spread beyond his stable on Ninth Street.

Alas, Dr. Bowler’s optimism was unfounded and the next few days found cases throughout the downtown area. Journalists struggled to name the disease. “Epizooty” was a common label, but newspaper reports invoked “equine influenza” or “hippo-typhoid-laryngitis” or “epiglottic catarrh” or “epizootic influenza” and even “hipporhinorrheaeirthus”! Whatever they called it, the disease would hobble a city absolutely dependent on horse power to operate at all.

Josiah “Si” Keck, presiding at the Board of Aldermen, introduced a resolution to draft squads of men for duty at the city’s firehouses. With the horses out of commission, only manpower could replace horsepower to haul the heavy steam-powered fire engines of the day. Thankfully, only a few minor fires were reported during the height of the contagion.

According to the Cincinnati Enquirer [11 November 1872], other horse-dependent companies tried different alternatives:

“The United States Express Company has prepared to follow the example of the Eastern Companies. All of their horses, twenty-two in number, being completely disabled, they will at once substitute steers, and the streets of this city will show the curious spectacle of express wagons drawn by the propelling force of a farmer’s haycart.”

Historian Alvin F. Harlow, writing in the Bulletin of the Historical and Philosophical Society of Ohio [April 1951], noted that the bovine substitutes were simply not cut out for jobs readily accomplished by horses:

“The oxen, with great, wild, pathetic eyes, slobbering, swaying slowly through the streets, were a strange spectacle to city folk, and were followed by crowds of children for a day or two, until the novelty wore off. But as agencies of traction, they were a disappointment. Not all of them were well broken to the yoke; few men in town knew how to drive them, and as they are—with the possible exception of the tortoise and the two-toed sloth—the slowest walkers in the whole zoological category, they did not accomplish much in a day, according to city standards.”

Just think of an entire city operating on the capable talents of horses, now immobilized by an unseen microbe. Garbage piled up as the city’s sanitation wagons stood idle. “Garbage” back then meant kitchen and table scraps which, even in the chill of autumn, ripened malodorously in unattended cans. The situation was even worse at the city’s slaughterhouses. Even though the butchers had stopped working – there were no wagons available to deliver the slaughtered pork and beef – there were likewise no wagons to dispose of the offal and trimmings. The stench was indescribable.

Cincinnati’s streetcars were horsedrawn in 1872. It would be a decade before electrical trolleys debuted. The entire commuter system of the city shut down and the Cincinnati workforce, from C-suite executives to the lowliest laborers, had to hoof it. Harlow describes an exhausting scene:

“Towards dusk each evening the great trek homeward began, and from then until 9 P.M. the streets were thronged with business men, clerks, bookkeepers, warehouse and factory workers, trudging wearily. To reach their work again at 7 or 7:30 next morning, when most people's day began, soon proved too much for some of them, and they took to sleeping in their places of business; which in turn became less and less necessary, as those businesses were compelled to shut down for lack of transportation.”

Even funerals were affected. Teams of undertakers pulled hearses to the depot of the Cincinnati, Hamilton & Dayton railroad, whose tracks ran along the front of Spring Grove Cemetery. Mourners followed along on foot until the hearse was loaded on the train, then rode out for the burial. Other cemeteries put interments on hold for the duration.

The city faced the serious prospect of starvation. Food arrived in the city by rail and by river, but there were no carts to carry it from the wharf or the depot. Fresh vegetables rotted down by the river while families went hungry just a few blocks north. Farmers from the suburbs refused to bring their crops into Cincinnati for fear that their own draft animals would succumb to the dread epizooty.

As humans attempted to fill the horse’s role, every wheelbarrow in the city was drafted into use and some sold for astronomical sums. Even so, as noted by Harlow, human power had its very fragile limits:

“If the load was very heavy, as for instance, hogsheads of tobacco, massive machinery or an iron safe of a ton weight, ropes were also attached to each side of the wagon and passed over the shoulders of two files of straining men, while three or four others, their feet striving for toeholds in earth or cobbles, pushed against the wagon's tail until shoulder-bones threatened to wear through the flesh.”

Among the worst effects of the pandemic was the inability to dispose of dead horses. Horses died in Cincinnati at the rate of twenty or thirty a day at the height of the disease in November 1872, and there was nothing available to haul the carcasses out to the reduction plants, where they might be turned into soap fat or fertilizer. Alderman Si Keck, who owned one of these “stink factories,” found a partial solution by renting a small steam-powered truck from one of the city’s pork-packing plants but could still handle only a few of the equine corpses.

By the end of November, new cases and fatalities had diminished considerably. As December opened, the city was almost back to normal, with a new appreciation of the four-legged residents who truly powered our city.

Only one case of a human contracting the epizooty was recorded in 1872. Joseph Einstein was a well-known dealer when Cincinnati’s Fifth Street was the largest horse market in the United States. Einstein spent weeks, around the clock, nursing his stock and developed symptoms remarkably similar to those afflicting his horses. Several local doctors confirmed that he had somehow succumbed to the dread epizooty.

Just as mysteriously as it appeared, the epizooty vanished, and never visited Cincinnati to that degree ever again.

#epizooty #cincinnati horses #cincinnati transportation

[lutiaslayton]

Hi everyone! This is a post I’ve been thinking of making on and off, and was sort of hoping I wouldn’t need to—but which I have decided to write now just to be on the safe side, since weeks are passing and the time I am able to spend on datamining and analysing the canon evidence is not nearly enough for me to get any real work done. And with the last few months of my PhD coming at a much higher speed than I’d like, things are not going to get any better.

I will start by giving you all a small gift: This Google Drive folder!

It provides a list of .zip files, one per game, which contain the datamined text I was able to retrieve. The raw text, and nothing else.

I initially only wanted to make it public once I would be actually done cleaning up the files (you will soon see that CV, DB and UF are all marked as “WIP”), but once again, “cleaning up the files” is an absolute nightmare for the DS games. We’re talking more than a thousand files per language, per game, that need to be edited one by one in order to remove a pile of garbage characters, sometimes separate files that are merged and contain lots of garbage characters in-between, and in some cases re-encoding the files into UTF-8 format instead of Shift-JIS—and all of this manually, because python has been incapable of reading files that contain said garbage characters, and because although I did use a few scripts and commands to trim things down a bit and make the human job easier, I am not confident enough in bash to fully know what I’m doing with it. So, yes, a nightmare. I gained a new appreciation for the 3DS games for being so nice and easy to clean up in comparison.

So yeah, since I won’t be able to clean up these files anytime soon anyway, I decided to share the link now! Because it’s technically been here for months, and hasn’t changed much in that time. It’s still a mess regarding the original trilogy, I apologise for it being a mess, but I did what I could and this is all I can provide for the time being. At least be thankful that MM, AL and vsAA all have “Condensed” versions that gather every single line of text in a human readable format, inside one single file per language, prepared by yours truly (and python, which this time was cool and helpful <3)

Announcement n°2: The playthrough and the Puzzle Theory™

Because I don’t have much free time, I have not yet had the opportunity to look at EVERYTHING that is canon, do stuff such as making statistics to back up my biassed observations (something I also happen to suck at, which isn’t helping), and so on. While I do not regret writing the Puzzle Theory posts I made in the past, I do want to put an asterisk to them: here’s your PSA reminder to check your sources, and not believe blindly everything I say. While I try to support every point I make by citing my exact sources and providing the evidence I’m using to support my claims, I am still a flawed human being capable of making mistakes—and the fact that I haven’t yet reviewed every single line of dialogue in order to make a thorough search of every piece of evidence that the canon provides is the major thorn in my side in that matter.

I am fully aware that this is all done only for fun and in good faith, but I’m also very much aware that what I’m trying here is to make a theory that is 100% canon compliant; and, well, I can’t exactly claim in good faith that everything in the theory is 100% canon compliant until I’ve actually done my research to 100% too now, can I?

The fact that the theory has evolved since I first posted about it, and that I am for example no longer supporting the idea that every single puzzle in the universe was created because of the Azran, is proof that the theory is a work in progress. I am therefore losing confidence, not in the credibility of the entire theory, but in the credibility of some aspects of it that are one line of dialogue away from being potentially proven wrong and replaced with a more credible hypothesis.

So now, first because I don’t have the time to do that review stuff, and second because I don’t want to risk saying things that I will find out later down the line to be incorrect, I’d rather avoid talking in too much depth about the puzzle theory up until I’ve finally been able to dive into the canon lore from the first to the very last line of dialogue. I will still answer asks if I get them, of course, but just be aware that my answers will most likely be vague “maybes” rather than “oh yeah I 100% agree.” Either your assumptions can be disproved or clarified by canon evidence I do remember coming across, and I will therefore say “at least I know that this very specific thing you said contradicts canon because of X source,” or I will just give a patient and prudent nod paired up with a noncommital shrug.

I will not edit my previous posts, but here’s the reminder once again—don’t believe every word you read without using your own brain cells first! (Someone’s whispering in my ear that a certain someone y’all may or may not know once said that “Critical thinking is the key to success.” Wise words.) As a PhD student who currently works in academic research, I can tell you that whether in IRL science or in “fandom research for fanfic purposes,” in both cases the journey can lead to flawed hypotheses proven wrong, and other mistakes that must be corrected. My view of the puzzle theory has evolved once again bit by bit since I last posted here, but I’d rather avoid talking about it too much out of fear of stating even more new hypotheses that could end up being wrong later down the line, and would only spread confusion over anything else.

So, although puzzles being somewhat sentient and part of the Laytonverse inhabitants’ daily lives is pretty much an indisputable fact, anything that tries to explain how puzzles work or where they come from is still a massive mystery whose resolution is a work in progress at best, an unsolvable mystery that will end up being completely impossible to decipher at worst.

Reading every single piece of dialogue that’s available in canon (+ in the Japan-exclusive content) is on my to-do list, so I can narrow things down, clarify what is most likely to be “potentially canon,” and add errata to the hypotheses I made in the past that ended up being either contradicted by canon, or at the very least not as likely as a different, more recent hypothesis — and the playthrough series is definitely going to continue along with it. It’s just… not something I am physically capable of doing right now.

Announcement n°3 : Stable Like Sand

Last thing, about my fanfic series: as much as I would love to keep writing it every day, and as much as I probably will keep writing it from time to time, I just need to remind myself that there is… another thing I also need to write right now. A thing that people usually call a “thesis.” So, uh, I can’t say whether SLS will be put on complete hiatus for now, and I really hope it won’t, but I also can’t make any promises either way. I’m only saying this as a reassurance: don’t ask whether or not SLS will be discontinued, because it absolutely is not going to be! I am simply obligated to write something else for my IRL studies/job (technically both?), something that is much less fun, and because of this, I just don’t know how much of my free time I will have left for SLS. Just keep in mind that up until December, I will be even busier a bee than I’ve already been so far, and I don’t really know what my agenda will be like during that time (and what comes after that is even more uncertain, but I do hope that at least it won’t be as filled to the brim with tasks to take care of).

All in all, this post was made just to give you some quick news, reassure people that even though I may perhaps disappear for a few months at some point without warning, I’m not going anywhere. I am just going to be most likely very busy and stressed out, and perhaps I will not be able to stay responsive at times, but I’m not going to actually disappear forever. And in the best case scenario, perhaps I won’t even disappear at all!

#pl puzzle theory #stable like sand #lutiasreplies

[mortifiedatbeingknown]

"An Odd Little Thing" (Pt. 16)

Masterpost:

Not this again… 

She knew she should’ve left her mask at home. She took in a deep breath, in…and out. If they were with her mother, she could not afford to lose composure. Without much of a choice, she turned to face her accusers. 

There were the twins again, matching dresses, matching bows, matching scowls. In between them was a taller figure; a lady in an elegant red dress and heels. Her hair piled high onto her head, and she stared with a curious intensity that was impossible to decipher. This must be their mother. And if she was anything near as bad as her daughters… 

…No, she couldn’t assume that yet. Or at least, there was still room to hope. She hadn’t said anything yet. There was still time for a good first impression. 

“Excuse me,” She said, as pleasantly as she could. “Is something the matter?” 

The twins seethed. 

“You know what you did!” 

“Yeah, don’t play dumb!” 

“What, you think just cause—” 

“Girls.” 

And at that one simple word, the twins fell silent. Their mother turned back to face her. 

“My daughters have lost their OLI3-S5 while playing at Luna Park.They claim it is now in your possession. Is this true?” 

She felt the inexplicable need to straighten her back. “Luna Park? No, it can’t be. I’ve never been there.” It wasn’t completely true. She had been, but it had been years. Her father would take her sometimes, late at night after all the other wealthy kids had gone home and she could enjoy the park to herself. Still, it wasn’t something she was willing to divulge to a stranger, even if it was trivial. 

“How could you have never been there?” 

“Everyone’s been there!” 

She gave a hidden glare to the two brats. “I haven’t. I’m sorry I can’t help you. Is that all?” 

“Not yet.” The woman said. Her hands moved to her daughters’ shoulders, squeezing them tightly. “I find it unlikely that my daughters would accuse you without merit. Are you in possession of an OLI model?” 

“Yes.” No point denying it. 

“How can you be sure it is not the same one my daughters lost?” 

“Because it isn’t.” 

“She’s a liar!” 

The accusation forced her to bite her tongue as to not lash out. Yes, it was true, perhaps she was not being completely upfront, but they had some nerve to point their fingers at her lying when they themselves had… 

…Wait, that’s it!

And with all the smugness of a cat who had cornered their mouse, she removed her mask and goggles. Not ideal, but it was best to look as human as she could. With a well-practiced tilt of her head, she tried to morph her facial features into something innocent.

“I’m really, truly sorry, but it couldn’t be. See, I found my Ollie at the dump, and he was practically scrap at that point. I’ve been restoring it as a passion project; that’s why I’m here now.” 

The mother did not look impressed, although one eyebrow did quirk upwards. “And is it not possible that their OLI model could have also ended up there after falling into the wrong hands?” 

“No, ma’am.” She said, fighting to keep a grin from overtaking her face. “My OLI very distinctly told me that his master left him there and told him to wait. It was a clear case of abandonment. He could not have been left there by a third party.” 

“Then you are absolutely sure?” The mother lifted a hand to silence the twin’s renewed complaints. 

“Completely. As a mechanic, I can vouch for it. The only way my Ollie could be your daughter’s toy is if they threw it away with the garbage. They wouldn’t do that… would they?” 

Silence. 

“Well, girls?” The mother asked, her voice soft and quiet. “Would you?” 

“N-no!”

“Of course not!” 

“Then it appears you have accused the wrong person.” And then to her surprise, the mother reached out for her hand and bowed slightly.

“I am deeply sorry for our intrusion. It was not right for my daughters to accuse so brazenly.” The mother stepped back, and with a sharp cough, directed the twins forward. 

“Laura? Lacey? Apologize immediately. You were both extremely rude.” 

And it was this very moment where she wished that Ollie was there with her. He was the one who deserved to see this more than anyone, to gleefully giggle as his former masters kicked at the ground and mumbled a “Sorry,” with enough ice in their voices to freeze the sun. He was the one who should be celebrating his first moments of freedom, at the realization that no longer would he be harassed or chased or hurt by his past. That from now on, they could start anew. 

She couldn’t wait to tell him. 

As it was, she could only wave as the twins were dragged off for a talk by their irritated mother. As they turned their heads to stick their tongues out at her, she seized the opportunity to flash a very brief, very inappropriate finger. The look on their faces was almost enough to ease the blow of the OLI3-XS’ price. 

******************

She snuck in through the back door this time, wanting to keep the surprise. First things first, she changed quickly, tenderly putting away her father’s suit and returning to her old, well-worn overalls. 

There. Now she was feeling a bit more like herself. 

Getting the present ready was slightly more work. She freed the voice box from its packaging easy enough, but to get it into a presentable enough container… that was a different story. Nothing in her rooms was pretty enough. Finally, in a burst of defeat, she wrapped it with brown napkins for wrapping paper and tied it with an old shoelace to serve as a bow. A few small, yellow flowers that grew between the cracks in the sidewalk served as the only point of somewhat decent decoration. 

Still it made for a rather pathetic present. She looked down in disgust. Why was she even doing this? Did she seriously think that Ollie would care for such a sloppy gift? 

No…no… She couldn’t think like that. She’d gone so far. She couldn’t stop now. 

“Ollie?” She called out as she stepped into the workshop. Her footsteps echoed loudly in the silence. “Ollie?” 

For a moment, she thought he had wandered off, simply because she couldn’t see his eyes casting that familiar orange glow. But now, once she rounded the corner and turned her head, there she was. Still on the shelf with his legs dangling, not having moved an inch from where she’d last left him. 

What she couldn’t believe was the lack of sound. No fan whirring. No gears turning. Eyes as dull and as dark as a burnt-out lightbulb. When she picked him up and checked his neck, the mystery was solved. Effortlessly simple, and yet, completely nonsensical. Unbelievable. Impossible. 

Ollie…had powered himself off. 

#robot whump #whump writing #whumpee #whump #reluctant caretaker #odd little thilng

[talkingbl]

Two Things Can Be True At Once: Prom, Phuwin, Yui & Mark (aka MSP + Phuwin)

I have a lot of thoughts about each of these scandals and reactions to them that I want to address. We'll go in order.

Prom: What Prom said was absolutely horrendous. I could not believe my ears and eyes and feel like he deserves every bit of criticism being tossed his way. He openly admitted to violating the human rights of CHILDREN, all for a weird cool-guy fantasy he wanted to portray for his damn near grown friends. That is maximum creep behavior and I hope he learns a powerful lesson from all of this. In spite of his apology, violating a child's right to privacy in those moments is way too much for me to feel comfortable with. Plus, the fact that he felt comfortable enough to say it on national TV until he got a little backlash speaks volumes to me.

Yui: Look, I'm not claiming to be in that woman's mind or know why she dismissed the reaction to Prom's disgusting statements--I only know that she has a job to do. For her to all but tell a much younger, more impressionable person that his dangerous words and actions were okay since it'll all blow over anyway was wrong and garbage can behavior. Being the adult in the situation, regardless of what her intent was, the effect is to become a pedo-apologist. She should have never told him his actions were okay, regardless of if she was just trying to talk him off a ledge or whatever. It is NEVER okay to do what Prom said he did--and it's completely fucked up that I even have to say that.

Phuwin: What Phuwin said was completely inappropriate and, unfortunately, a very common incidence even today. As someone who has ADHD, I can totally see why many are hurt by his words. Him using the r-word was indecent and deserved the criticism being lodged against him. And while I personally thought his apology was well-crafted, people have the right not to accept it. For me, I go on peoples' general feel in addition to their actions and words and Phuwin doesn't feel like this big bad monster to me. Again, totally up to other neurodivergents if they want to accept his apology.

Mark: This situation is a bit different than the others IMO, because I don't know the full context behind the most incriminating-sounding statement "it's normal." There is a very strong reason to believe Mark was stating "it's normal [to be stressed about this]" (since the sentence immediately preceding "it's normal" is about Prom being stressed). I want to be clear that I've not heard the full audio myself and every translation seems to attribute different words to Mark (but Yui's message stays consistent). Like, seriously, even Thai people don't even know what was said. For that reason, I am hard-pressed to feel the need to personally cancel Mark (but if you want to, that's your business). I think it would be misguided of me to feel the need to end this person because of something I barely understand myself. But this leads me into my next point when these scandals start piling up...

Folks on the internet do not live in the real world. For chronically-online young people, it takes not even a scintilla of evidence against someone to rip their entire livelihood away from them. Not only that, but these folks will hear a lie or exaggeration and RUN with it. They will hear that Mond, who was on the same Safe House season as Gemini, did Blackface (he did); Prom, who was on the same show as Gemini, spied on kids in the shower (he did); and Gemini colonized Namibia (he didn't) and will believe each allegation as if there's any truth to the last claim simply because Gem is associated with those two in some vague way. I'm not saying Gem is (or will turn out to be) an angel but the way some of these folks will just believe any characterization of things without looking at the evidence for themselves is dangerous.

I want to be clear. Calling Prom out is not dangerous to anyone. If anything, you're protecting more poor children from being spied on. However, running with lies, half-truths, or yet-to-be confirmed speculation is dangerous. I just wish more people would approach things logically instead of going on witch-hunts and calling anyone who exposes that tendency a "sympathizer" or "apologist".

That said, I want clean up the trash in our media (Build, apparently now Prom, etc.), but don't see the point in calling everything trash and taking it to the dump indiscriminately.

#thai bl boys love #phuwin tangsakyuen #prom theepakon #gmmtv yui #mark pakin

[therewasatale]

A Reason for leaving

On Ao3.

Summary: Qui-Gon Jinn finds his friend, Samuel Vimes in a ran down bar and tries to reason with him.

The bar wasn’t the worst one on Coruscant. This was because the “Worst Bar On Coruscant” became a coveted title long ago and there were several hundred establishments vehemently competing for the title.

It became an artform in which the goal was to make a place as close to being a corpse filled pile of rubble with a liquor license as possible, its brushes were various assortments of blaster burns, bullet holes, sticky floors and cheap watered-down drinks, and paints were supplied by several kinds of bodily secretions of the myriad species of the galaxy.

This year’s favourite to win was the “Rakghoul's Spirit” on the lower levers which sported the dubious honour of having a member from every space faring race known to the Republic having been killed in it at least once. No, this bar was simply a small run down one around the mid-levels, a place where people go not so much to forget, but to be forgotten.

So it was a complete shock to the patrons that this day, there was a visit from not one, but three jedi.

The first one come in around the early morning, already stinking from booze. Most other establishments would have sent the man away, but a drunk jedi was enough of a new experience that the owner, a Rodian with one broken antenna and a facial scar, let it go.

The jedi was steadily sending down various kind of drinks, and based on the strength of said drinks, the owner suspected he must have used some kind of force powers to keep himself standing, or despite looking human, he was of a species that can live with a blood alcohol content around 75% without much problem. The man had the face of someone utterly lost and grounded down, but at least paid his drink so he was content to let him be.

Now that during midday another two arrived, he started to sense trouble. He glanced towards the drunken jedi near the bar and made a nod, indicating to him that the newcomers probably were searching for him.

Jedi Knight Samuel Vimes had the kind of malaise usually experienced only by small worms living in a starship’s garbage disposal. He had the mood of reactor waste. And the knowledge that someone was coming to visit him wasn’t improving it.

He turned back unsteadily on the barstool and regarded the newcomers.

One of them was Qui-Gon Jinn. The man was the most annoying know it all good for nothing jedi in the entire galaxy. His friend. And oh the force, he brought his padawan. Bollocks.

Qui-Gon himself was searching for his friend in the last three days, trying to find him in every possible bar and cantina he could find, but Vimes didn’t want to be found, and through his unique force powers, the city obliged. Qui-Gon was forced to rely on his own knowledge about the workings of the city to find a lone drunken jedi amidst millions of sentients. But he had to do it for his friend.

He wasn’t there, when the Council published its decision, he wasn’t there for the row that followed, which, according to the masters gathered there, almost became violent, before he stormed off.

But he was here now.

“Sam. Let’s go back to the temple." Said Qui-Gon as a greeting.

Vimes took a big slow breath and shook his head.

“No. I don’t think I am going to do that Qui-Gon. I dint think I am going to do that at all. “ He said raising his hardened resin cup and trying to drink from it. It was already empty. He grunted and pushed it back towards the bar owner. “Another one.”

“I think you had enough Sam." Said the jedi master, his voice even, yet quiet. Seeing the man like this was a punch to the got for him. Samuel Vimes was always the more idealistic from the both of them. The man wanted to change the Republic to the better, he fought for it, harder than anyone aside from maybe his master. And now, he seemed absolutely broken.

“Peachy. But I’ll be the judge of that.”  Mumbled Vimes, but before the bar owner could even move towards the empty cup, it flew up and landed in Qui-Gon's hand. Vimes grunted angrily and turned towards the jedi once again. “What the everdamned force you want from me Quai Gon.”

“To stop this self-destruction spiral Sam. Keels death was a tragic accident but…” Vimes' fist hit the table so hard that every other drink clinked together on the plasteel bar table.

“Accident? Accident. Keel and his padawan was massacred on a street of Coronet City…” The jedi knight could feel the anger rise inside him like bile.

Quai Gon put the cup down on an empty table and looked back at him.

“It was ruled to be an accident, they run into a gang war zone and…” Qui-Gon knew he shouldn’t have said that. That was what set him off back on the council chamber. Truth to be told, even he wasn’t sure if this was the truth. But it was the decision they came to. Unfortunately, there was nothing else to do.

 This time Vimes pushed himself up from the barstool, anger burning full throttle now.

“That is a load of bantha manure and you know it! Gangs with slug weaponry, fliers and explosives?  It was the Pykes and the Hutts, they paid the locals to get rid of Keel because he was too much of a torn in their sides, and a kid no older than your padawan!”

Vimes pointed towards the smaller figure in a brown coat standing beside Qui-Gon. “Died in the crossfire. And the council aren’t going to anything because they fear poking the Hutts, because they care about the peace." Vimes felt the poison in his every word, but he couldn't hold them back. He didn't want to. "Peace, where criminals and slavers do what they want. I had enough of it, Qui-Gon. I had enough. They stone walled me and Keel for years and now they are going to pretend his death was nothing but bad luck.” Behind Vimes' eyes a kind of dangerous fire burned. A kind of fire that could force a man to make stupid decisions, provoke fights with people he didn’t want to fight with. With people he cared about.

These feelings were a gateway towards the dark side the council always said. But he didn’t care what the council thought anymore.

“I am not a kid. “Said the padawan suddenly, and received a stern look from Qui-Gon which made him look away in shame. If Qui-Gon could help it, Obi Wan wouldn’t have come near this type of establishment, but the kid snuck out after him, day after day, so he just brought him along, it was safer this way. And besides that, Obi-Wan was a padawan, old enough to leave the temple. Sooner or later, he had to see the true face of the Republic, and even the jedi. He just wished that his padawan wouldn't see his friends in this state. Vimes wasn't a bad man, nor a bad jedi, but he lost his master, and with him he lost himself too.

 At the padawans words, Vimes' rage disappeared. It was blown away by a sudden gust of lethargy and cold despair. He remembered saying the same thing to his dead master more than once.

“Yes, you are. And you have a lightsabre already, and fighting beside your master, good for you kid.“ He collapsed back to his stool and rubbed his temple. “ Qui-Gon, I have come to realise we are doing things wrong. Seriously wrong in some cases. It was growing in me for a while, but this, this was the final straw. “

“Sam-,” Qui-Gon's voice was almost pleading. “I want to help.” He really wanted, Samuel Vimes was his friend, and represented in his eyes, one of the last best hopes for the Jedi order to change for the better.

“Are you a drink, or Keel's killers so I can make sure you will pay with your life behind bars?” He asked looking at him with empty eyes.

Through the Force pain and sorrow oozed out from the jedi knight. It almost made Qui-Gon to take a step back, to try to shield his padawan from his friend feelings. 

“I-”

“Then piss off.” He grasped towards a cup that wasn’t there, and then sighed, turning his back towards Qui-Gon and glanced at the bartender. “Another one, don’t bother with a cup, I will take a bottle. “

Qui-Gon stared at the back of his friends for a minute. Thoughts and feelings were chasing each other inside his mind. Shame, that he couldn’t help him. Anger at the council, but at Vimes too that he would let himself sink this much. And deep profound loss. He felt trough the force, he may never see his friend again in his life.

He shook his head before he sighed.

“If that’s what you want Sam. May the force be with you.” He said in a resigned voice, as he gently led his padawan out of the pub. Vimes received his bottle, stared into the swirling amber liquid through the black, reflective bottle, seeing the face of Keel inside of it for a second, before his own appeared. He grunted, and began drinking, trying to forget how miserable it looked

#star wars fanfiction #star wars clone wars #discworld fanfiction #discworld #sam vimes #qui gon jinn #obi wan kenobi #The Emperor in Silver #copper #clone wars #The Copper Sabre AU

[audioaujom]

11:00 AM, Utility Tunnels

FNaF:SB Hub, < prev, next >

We’ve finally made it to Charlie’s section! These are technically alts of the previous writes, as they will be sort of the same, except now it’s Charlie’s turn to be miserable lol

Enjoy all the upcoming madness!

Word Count: 1362

--

Face to face with Freddy’s glowing eyes, Charlie chuckled nervously as the animatronic’s expression turned remorseful. “Uhm, Freddy?”

“I… am terribly sorry.” Freddy apologized, shambling awkwardly towards the large red cylinder in the corner of the maintenance room. “The recharge cycle had not completed when I found you. You must continue without me.”

“What? Uhm, absolutely not.” Charlie crossed his arms, watching as Freddy disappeared inside and the door slid closed behind him. “Did you happen to forget that this entire building wants to kill me?”

All he received in return was a sad smile and Freddy’s eyes falling closed, turning to glance around his surroundings in annoyance.

“Awesome! Super informative answer, man.”

Passing by the now familiar animated screen and giving it a small high five, Charlie pushed open the large set of double doors to try and make his way up to the entrance by himself. He hesitated immediately, hearing loud footsteps from the other side of a storage rack blocking the path down the hallway. Eyes peeled for movement but not seeing any, he took several slow, careful steps down the hall only to realize the noises he was hearing were coming from a door to his right labeled as a gender neutral bathroom.

Luckily the door didn’t creak as he very carefully pulled it open into the hallway, instantly shutting it as beyond the row of decrepit stalls stood Glamrock Chica, bent over a pile of garbage she was snacking on. 

“Oh. Lovely!” He whispered to himself, the panic forcing his heart to beat faster as he tried to keep himself quiet. Glancing around the small hallway and spotting a pile of rather heavy looking paint cans in a precarious stack on the metal shelving blocking his way, he reached out to tip them over—Chica instantly going quiet inside the bathroom. Keeping one foot wedged into the door frame, he waited impatiently for the instant the other door opened as Chica exited so he could duck into the bathroom without being spotted.

She bawked in confusion when she noticed the spilled paint cans, Charlie not paying any attention to the inside of the bathroom as jogged through it to slowly push open the door at the far end. She was completely invested in the cans as he then took the chance to slip down the hallway behind her—never looking away from her hunched over back until he rounded the corner and got fully out of sight.

Reaching another maintenance door, he only paused in his escape to read a poster off the wall.

—————————————————————————————— BE CAREFUL 100% OF FATAL ACCIDENTS INVOLVE  HUMAN BEINGS ——————————————————————————————

“That's a good sign. Very true.” He deadpanned to himself, letting out a sigh of relief as he headed through the door to his left and found himself in a deserted storage room. Still being careful but glad for the lack of immediately present danger, he was quick to head for the door at the other end, carefully peeking out into more empty hallways. “Whew.”

High-fiving another animated screen, Charlie’s steps only slowed after seeing the cheery paint give way to more serious looking metallic tunnels. He took one look up and down the metal path from where he was standing in an empty doorway before stepping out, eager to get through this as fast as possible so the sinking feeling in his gut would pass when—

“There you are!”

He heard the chain link fence behind him rip and fall before he could even turn around, turning to see Monty looming over the tattered remains of the fence and focusing in on where Charlie was standing slack-jawed in the middle of the hallway. Instantly screaming and turning to run, Charlie felt the ground underneath his feet shake as Monty’s heavy steps followed him down the hall. “OH FUCK!!”

He barely had time to look at his surroundings as he ran, finally noticing a painted arrow with ‘LOBBY’ written in it in big letters, rounding the corner faster than he thought he was capable of only to hear another familiar voice behind him. 

“Are you lost?”

“Oh, shit! No, I'm— I'm not lost! I was just leaving!” He called back, turning just enough to see Roxy climbing over another fence. “Please leave me alone!!”

Now with two thundering sets of footsteps behind him he tried to run faster, practically jumping between tiles on the floor before he crashed through another set of doors at the end of the hall. The room looked enough like the rest of the building that he felt sure he was on the right path, ready to slow down a little until—

“Lost boy over here!” Chica came stumbling out through a pile of boxes to his right as the doors he just passed through slammed open again, panic squeezing on his heart so hard all he could manage to get out was a loud, cackling laugh before taking off again.

“I am neither lost nor a boy!” He yelled as he turned to run away from all three animatronics, reaching several flights of stairs that clearly led back up to the main floor of the Pizzaplex. “Just let me leave!”

Taking the stairs three or four at a time, he felt the animatronics slow down a little in pursuit as the steps were human sized and clunky for them to climb but was unwilling to slow down completely until he reached the top landing and spotted the heavy metal of a security door down an adjacent hallway.

Sprinting into the security office was quick, Charlie slamming a hand into the button to shut the door and slumping forward into the wall, spotting Monty through the  reinforced windows as he began banging on the now closed door.

“Okay, great. Security Office. Safe point. This is awesome.” Charlie let himself have a moment against the wall, trying to catch his breath before taking in his surroundings. The office itself was rather small, with only a small room to accompany the one person desk stacked with several monitors, a keyboard, and various scattered papers. The door on the other side was already closed as well, and he felt the panic in his chest lighten for only a moment before realizing the green battery shaped icon on the wall was slowly depleting. “Oh! I’m using up limited power! And quickly at that! Haha, this is awesome!”

Quickly regaining his footing to explore the contents of the desk, Charlie quickly discovered that he could cycle through some cameras in the hallways outside of the security office—noticing Monty still banging on the door to his left and Chica seemingly roaming the hallways to his right that likely lead out to the front entrance.

“Okay, plan time.” Charlie mumbled to himself, parsing through the cameras while thinking hard. “The plan is there is no plan, I just need her to be gone and I’ll run as fast as I can. Perfect not plan.”

Seeing Chica round the corner to put an entire wall between her and the security door he let slide open, Charlie ducked out of the security office and ran as fast as he could around the square of hallways to reach the double doors that would lead out. Painted arrows led his way around the hallways until he finally found the mentioned sets of doors that he escaped through—narrowly missing Chica round the corner behind him.

“Arlight! There’s the exit! That makes this a huge success.” He breathed out in relief, jogging towards the row of glass doors that would lead out of the building just as an announcement came over the loudspeakers.

“Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizzaplex is now closed. Initiating nighttime protocols.”

“What? Nighttime—?” Charlie cut himself off in a confused panic, running faster as a large garage door slid down to start covering the doors and bar him from leaving. “No, no no no, what are you talking about—! No don’t—!” He reached the front doors just as the cover hit the floor, unable to find a way to lift it. He slowly stepped back, glancing frantically around before slumping his shoulders in defeat. “Well fuck…”

I’m stuck in here til 6 AM.

#five nights at freddy's security breach #five nights at freddy's au #five night's at freddy's #five nights at freddy's #fnaf sb #fnaf security breach #fnaf #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #cross posted on ao3 #whump #angst #charlie slimecicle #charlie slimecicle fanfic

[deadlynavigation]

Temptress

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

I NEED REQUESTS. Comment them, send them in, I don't care. You can find my requirements under navigation (at the bottom of this fic)

I do not own Marvel. Pls don't come after me.

Do not plagiarize or translate any of my work or its included assets.

It’s been a very long day.

Natasha pushed you to and past your limits today during your morning workout. Steve practically begged you for a running buddy for a solid half hour. Your toast was burnt when it came out of the weird toaster thing Tony swears is the future of carbs, and that wouldn’t have been a big deal if the millionaire hadn’t jokingly started the (incredibly loud) fire alarm. The toaster wasn’t even smoking.

This all occurred before 8 in the morning.

So yeah, your day has been garbage with a side of minor inconveniences. The only way you had gotten through it was by gripping onto the idea of your soft, fluffy bed, complete with the comfiest, most mismatched pajamas you could find. If Loki was there, that’s even better- your boyfriend is the best at making you feel better. He’s always ready to embrace the grumpy little human that you inevitably turn into by the end of a bad day.

Whatever worked, right? And this motivation worked. It got you through the endless meetings (it was professional development week), reports that were filed incorrectly (new recruits), and the sheer idiocy that comes with dealing with life-saving beings/deities/whatever the fuck else.

To get away from the horrific work environment has been your main goal since you stepped foot in your office. That was at 9- it was now 10 hours later, and you are finally accomplishing it. You want to cry. Or feel proud of your accomplishments. Emotions suck.

So there you are, standing in the elevator, the 83 button on the wall lit up. You shift from foot to foot, trying to hold the lump in your throat down as you think of what awaits you. It’s completely quiet except for the occasional thump or ding, but you have no mental power to deal with malfunctioning tech. 

Finally, finally, you get to your floor. Your too-tight shoes click against the floor, an echo with each step ringing throughout the empty corridors. You’d stop to take them off, but you’re so close to your room it seems almost like a dream. Besides, if you stop, you probably won’t start again. Falling asleep on the floor wouldn’t be horrible.

You sigh tiredly as you reach your door. You’re not sleeping on the floor again. That was murder on your neck.

The number lock pings with each number you click on. After wanting to throw the machine across the room with each note, you finally open the door. You practically weep with relief.

The getting ready for bed process is slow tonight. With no Loki yet, you’re accompanied by silence and Friday, but even she’s too much for you right now.

Undressed, redressed, you refuse to take a shower, skincare, hair, and the grand finale, bed. It was absolute hell, but you did it- you got ready for sleep.

You crawl into the heavenly bed, your mind and soul thanking you for the break. The sheets are impossibly soft, the heavy blankets piled on top providing a welcome cocoon, and your pillows are so, so beautiful. As you lay down, it feels like the day’s weight is lifted off your shoulders and chucked out the window.

It doesn’t even take five minutes for you to get into that place between consciousness and sleep. No wonder- you were on your feet for longer than you’ve ever been today. But all that is gone with your eyes fluttering shut.

The door bangs open with the force of a very stressed god.

“Darling, I’ve been looking for you everywhere, I-” Loki cuts himself off.

“What do you need, Loki? I’m tired, I…” Your raspy sleep voice stops, eyes narrowing confusedly as Loki’s eyes run up your body.

After a moment of silence, you squirming with confusion, Loki just standing there in what appears to be shock, the god’s voice travels through the entire room.

“You absolute temptress,” Loki growls as he stalks over to your bed. It takes you a second to process his words- you’re half asleep with huge bags under your eyes, a ratty old AC/DC shirt donned, gray panties that are the least sexy thing you own, and a messy bun that could make any hairdresser suicidal.

It’s safe to say that you’re lost.

“Sorry, what?” You say, your eyes scanning the room. Surely he’s talking to someone else, a goddess who can keep herself from spiraling after work.

“Darling,” Loki says, in a much deeper voice this time. “You cannot just do that and expect me to just walk away and accept it.” he gestures vaguely to your form.

You decide to play along. What do you have to lose, your dignity? Your shame? Pretty sure those are long gone.

“Yes, I apologize. A god like you and I present myself in such an alluring manner, that must be really hard on you.” You sigh, throwing an arm over your eyes in mock horror.

“Exactly, darling,” Loki strides over to the bed and perches on it. His hand lands on your calf, slowly climbing up your legs. “It’s almost like you don’t know me.”

“Again, I apologize, your highness. I did not think this would be attractive to you.” You say. The game is getting old- you just want to go to bed. Though, the exhaustion has faded a tiny bit since Loki came in.

“Did not think, indeed. The fact that you think you are not attractive to me in this- nay, any form is concerning.” The acting is gone now. Loki’s eyes hold the stubbornness of a man dead set on his lover.

“Loki-” You start, pulling your leg away from his hand.

“Hush, darling.”

“Do not hush me.”

“I am sorry. But you are just being ridiculous. You are absolutely stunning, a masterpiece painted by the most talented artist of Asgard.” He certainly has not lost his silver tongue with his time here on Earth.

“The most talented? I’m flattered,” a smile plants itself on your lips. Loki falls into bed with you, the atmosphere in the room becoming a lot more relaxed.

“I shall take you to her one day, darling,” The god promises. He rubs his nose against yours, small giggles escaping you with the domestic action. “You will see how her works encapsulate your beauty.”

You’re too tired to argue, so you snuggle further into your partner’s arms and settle. He wraps his arms tighter around you, quietly laughing at how fast your breathing slows into a gentle pace of sleep. He burrows his head into your hair, inhaling the scent of home.

And there you two stay, waiting until the first rays of dawn to disrupt your rest. For now, you’ll drift off to dreams of home and art, shedding the day’s fatigue and resting in your lover’s arms.

(Navigation)

#loki laufeyson #fanfiction #x reader #loki x y/n #oneshot #loki god of mischief #ravishing #romance #marvel

[sensitiveandhungry]

get to know me game !!

tagged by @bbujiikseu <3

birthday: april 10th

favorite color: purples and bright/dark yellows and lots of greens and blues

do you have any pets? i don't have any of my own but i have my family dog Buster <3

how tall are you?: 170 cm (5'7) :,) unfortunately

how many pairs of shoes do you own?: 15 but i definitely wear five the most

favorite song: every few days it changes, right now its "Let You Break My Heart Again" by Laufey and the Philharmonia Orchestra

favorite movie: also changes from moment to moment but I can confidently say that overall I will never get tired of Thor: Ragnarok

who would be your ideal partner?: wow, so many things. to be simple and succinct he needs to be respectful and patient, asks for consent, is honest and truthful, and loyal. And, of course loves me for me. can also deal with my antics, insecurities, etc

do you want children?: honestly, i'm not sure. i do but also the idea of being in charge of another human being and responsible for how it turns out is terrifying to me. also no thank you to child birth. since i was in middle school i have wanted to adopt, and would ideally like to adopt teenagers so i can help them and give them the resources they need in the last few years before they become adults. i want to be able to put more functioning adults out in the world, even if its only one or two.

have you gotten in trouble with the law?: no sir no ma'am

what color socks are you wearing?: no socks right now but earlier today i was wearing grey socks with lavender borders and cartoon cows on it. cows are my favorite animal. they are my favorite socks.

favorite type of music: girl i love so much music, number one is just pop. overall, all sub-genres. k-pop of course, duh, hello. lately r&b is just SO GOOD? so yeah that too. and i really life soft pop/rock/bedroom type beats.

how many pillows do you sleep with?: four pillows, a quilt and two blankets, two stuffies. anything less its just not heavy enough i need a nest

what position do you sleep in?: all of the above? primarily a stomach sleeper but i can fall asleep on my side or back too. but i always wake up on my stomach

what don’t you like when you’re sleeping?: being cold. it is the absolute worst. i also hate sleeping with like no weight on me. def can't do just a sheet and can hardly do just a comforter/duvet. <<this is kana's response but literally me too. we are the same.

what do you have for breakfast?: it depends on the day and my schedule. with a few exceptions, M,W,F I eat nutella toast, T,Th I have chocolate protein milk with apple cinnamon nutrigrain bars. On the weekends I make homemade egg 'mcmuffins' with english muffins, over-easy eggs, american cheese, and occasionally bacon.

have you tried archery?: yes! it is so much fun although im not much good at it

favorite fruit?: hmmm pomegranates and maybe plums too <<< once again kana's response but as usual, we are, in fact, the same

are you a good liar?: it depends. partial truths? yes. blatant lies to people's faces? no jfsdhlgdks

What’s your personality type?: as a kid i was an enfp, for a short while i was an istp, and now i am an infp

innie or outtie? i have the deepest innie belly button you will ever see in your entire life jfkjf. genuinely like the size of a thimble

left handed or right handed?: right handed, always wanted to be ambidextrous

favorite food: carbohydrates. pasta, bread, rice, potatoes. :)

favorite foreign food?: just like kana i love phad thai. it is so good i just- *faints*

am i clean or messy?: i'm def unorganized, but i also hate messes but bc of my anxiety i never know where to start with cleaning until it piles up to the point where i'm so stressed i can't let it sit dkfjd <<kana's response, yet again. but me too, down to the last word.

most used phrase: lately i just call everything garbage. that is garbage. his behavior was garbage. i feel like garbage. also many different variations that include "oh, holy, thank, god, heavens, good lord above"

how long does it take for you to get ready?: i like having lots of time to get ready so i can be relaxed and happy while doing so. so like two hours? but if need be i can also get ready in less than five minutes. anything in between.

do you talk to yourself?: yes because how else would i stay sane, hm?? its mostly like humming, dancing, telling myself what i need to do and get done, or just narrating my every move. also if you don't act like you're filming a youtube video when getting ready in the morning, you are wrong

do you sing to yourself?: girl literally constantly. catch a time when i am not singing. if i am not singing i have a song in my head. currently it's "Moonlight" by Ariana Grande

are you a good singer?: actually yes. the one skill i can confidently say i have, is the ability to sing well. very well. incredibly well. fun fact, my only claim to fame is that i sang the star spangled banner as a solo for my high school graduation, attendance of over 5,000 people. and yes i did have to go through an audition process to do so.

biggest fear: never falling in love. synonymous with being alone/dying alone, but specifically never falling in love. never getting married. never having a boyfriend. that is just absolutely terrifying to me. worse than death

do you like long hair or short hair?: i like me with all the hairs. been wanting to shave my head for like five years and still haven't. everyone else can also do whatever makes them happy. it is your hair not mine

favorite school subject: choir :D this is unsurprising. also yoga. literally the best class EVER

extrovert or introvert?: i am a loud introvert. i love hanging out with people and making friends but my social battery dies quickly and i also have to be in a certain mood to want to interact with people. <<kana's response, but me too. extroverted introvert. also, i am shy. so approach me first and then i am an open book

what makes you nervous?: small, tight spaces, big crowds, loud music / sounds (like to the point where i can't hear myself speak or think), uhhh a lot of things lol <<kana and me are the same

who was your first real crush?: my older sisters tried to push the idea of crushes on me literally since i was five. so my first "crush" was a kid named Jace in my kindergarten class. but if we're talking actual genuine interest in someone for the first time? probably a kid named Gage in fourth grade.

how many piercings?: i have two lol. just on my ear lobes. <<me too, kana

how many tattoos?: zero! i have issues with permanence when it comes to my body, it took me until i was 14 to even pierce my ears. i have interest in the fake tattoos that last a couple months tho!

how fast can you run?: honestly pretty fast. but i would not win a race

what color is your hair?: a really pretty brown. currently growing out bad highlights from middle school i had to spend hundreds of dollars correcting, also a hint of purple from a tint i use

what color are your eyes?: a lovely brown that looks especially pretty in the sun !!

what makes you angry?: people who don't take no for an answer, people who think they're the coolest ever even when they're actually dicks, being blatantly ignored but not being told what i did wrong <<yeah me too, kana

do you like your name?: i am indifferent. i used to hate it as a kid and was bullied for the way it was spelled, told it didn't make sense to spell it Lindsay when you pronounce it Lindzee, but i do in fact have the original Scottish spelling of the name.

do you want a boy or a girl as a child?: i am entirely indifferent! whoever i can adopt i will. also however they may want to identify later in life.

what are your strengths?: girl i dont know what to say. i can sing. i try my very hardest at most things. i am strong and brave. i have a gift for empathy, to a fault. i care and love almost too much.

what are your weaknesses?: same as my strengths, empathy, caring, and love are also my weaknesses. i am also wayyy too sensitive, i overthink, and take everything personally.

what’s the color of your bedspread?: sky blue with white roses

color of your room: white :( not allowed to paint it

#stop talking lindsay

[enchantedmirage]

Therapy Appointment Thoughts

(Doc said I should go start an online blog and journal my thoughts there and I was too afraid to tell her I already had tumblr....)

It was disappointing, she's just mitigating my symptoms than addressing anything. Only had an hour to talk

"It's normal for teenagers to have mood swings"

(Threatens me with going to a psych ward) "Do you know what that is?" (I answer how it keeps the patients /safe/ and monitored)

"Okay let's go over that because you have the misconception that it's pleasant."

UHM???

Well yeah I know that psych wards are an absolutely horrendous place to be, where it's a prison but you have no autonomy at all there now.

"I'm saying this because with your outbursts (that my MOM described, which happened two years ago)— you are a danger to yourself, your family, your friends and classmates."

"You have to learn how to be human."

HELLO???????????

Like there was no mention at all about evaluating how my symptoms could be co-morbidity or that I get depressed because there's an underlying issue that hasn't and still isn't being addressed.

I'm not that upset with her though because of course, this comes with the industry and dealing with personal or deepseated issues like these can suffer in a systematic industry based on "taking care of it".

And also she has a right to deattach herself from her patients as that can also affect her mental health, for someone who appears young as her (like mid to late 20s) she seems to have a lot of experience on her belt, and also really professional about it.

She positively reinforced me when I raised my hand to ask for my turn talk!!

My mom was complaining about her secretary being money hungry www, like how I asked to throw some trash and she said "oh it's outside" but after I bought some confectionary she offered to throw the waste I got.

BUT she seemed nice and I don't want those worries to taint it.

She did witness me pace around the room all anxiously while my mom was left alone to tattle about my former violent self to the therapist.

Like yeah I understand why she said that I'm a danger.

For context when I was 14 I had a breakdown, made a mess of my room and got into a struggle with my mother who I almost stabbed <- I am aware that this is a public space but like, it happened quite a long time ago

But I was thankfully stopped and got to cry it out with my friend over call who suggested I get help (cue my very first attempt at professional help getting thrown in the dumpster because my mom didn't see any improvement ww)

No but like my violent self stemmed from my mother also being violent towards me (she did grow milder as my brothers were born)

(cw: mentions of violence, I'm basically just dumping here because I'm salty that my mom got like thirty minutes to talk to my therapist while I had FIVE— ??@?? Ten if you count the time when my mom was also present with me)

She hit me with coathangers all the time, threatened to use my dad's belt, made me kneel on both peas and then rock salt.

When she caught me on my phone she doesn't remember that she almost threw a laptop at me and would have blamed the damage on my behaviour, threatened to stuff a phone into my mouth and almost was successful with it.

Oh hey! Repressed memories bubbling up, no thank you!

She doesn't remember stuff like calling me a piece of garbage and that I should tattoo it on my forehead so people would know (it was ~sarcasm~) or taking a picture of my knees after I kneeled on the peas/salt and saying how embarassing it would be to post online (oh but she didn't go through with it, did she?)

And those are just the physical things, all the little dismissive and blatantly derogatory comments she said to me just pile up eventually.

But she's changed a lot now, and doesn't do it much anymore.

You know what I take from that? Cycle of abuse, because my grandma did that too to her. It's hard for one person to be able to break from generational abuse after all.

#talking about the stuff my mom did to me is not triggering and I don't mean to say it out of pity but to just give context dont you @me #journaling ☁︎✧.* #cw violence #cw mentions of abuse

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[shesey]

Excerpts from The Wall Creeper by Nell Zink

If I tell myself stories, I get very sentimental very fast. So I didn't. I had hypnotized myself because Stephen had a job that could support us both and secretarial work bored me. I saw that I had followed the chief guiding principles of the petty bourgeoisie in modernity and made a virtue of necessity in telling myself my husband was a good lover. ... are you saying that what makes our relationship valuable is my willingness to suffer for you?

I don't see what that has to do with having a good relationship. It should be about getting through difficult stuff together. Difficult stuff the world throws at you, not difficult stuff you do to each other. I'm asking you right now to risk your life and health for my reproductive success.

If I put a picture of you and a baby on my desk, I can get promoted.

I'm sure there are couples that are fated to be together, like they meet each other in kindergarten and date on and off for twenty years, and finally they gie up because they realize they've gotten so far down their common road that there's nobody else in the entire universe they can talk to, because they have a private language and everything like that.

Have kids and turn so weird from the stress that nobody else ever understands another word we say. A couple that's completely wrapped up in each other can get through anything, because they don't have a choice. Right now we have the option of floating through life without b eing chained to anybody, but instead we pile on a ton of bricks and go whomp down to the ground.

I'm sorry. I figured human beings are curious. I try not to avert my eyes when life throws new experiences my way.

... my marriage was starting to feel like an exercise in opportunity cost.

Stephen's grief humanized him. I began to fall in love.

Maybe she was the kind who feels guilty when she commits adultery in her heart?

For the first time in years - or perhaps since infancy, when I hadn't known other people existed - I was certain I was alone, and my prompt gut reaction was to abandon all hope.

Consequently, Stephen was physically revolted by her. As if her failure to notice what was going wrong with the planet was linked to a black, spongy degeneration of her brain that might be contagious.

People talk a lot about midlife crisis, the momentary stress that arises when you finally slack off... It has nothing on unrequited love. Stephen stopped sleeping. He spent his nights staring at the TV with the sound off. He took Provigil so he could go to work. He looked weak and ashen as a ghost. On my knees by the couch, I begged him to take a few weeks off.

Even men in their seventies, talking to me after meetings about an impending block party or the proper sorting of garbage, would raise their eyebrows when I saw I had followed my husband from Philadelphia to Berne and then Berlin. I couldn't come up with a step I'd taken in life for my own sake. On my own behalf, to make myself happy, I'd done all kinds of things, all of them with the aim of staying close to a man. It hadn't occurred to me to be ashamed of myself. I'd thought love was a socially acceptable motivation.

Like me, she had moved to Berlin to be with her husband. The key difference was the kids. I envied her with a pang. An educated woman with little kids (I didn't imagine her having acquired them by any other means than hot sex) is a model of feminist, as well as feminine, virtue. Even her struggle to get strangers to take the kids off her hands is a feminist cause. Her work, bringing up the model citizens of tomorrow, is something society feels it ought to value and is constantly proposing as potentially eligible for pension benefits, unlike my work, which neither involved actual labor nor was anything but an end in itself, on good days, and otherwise not even that.

She hand't planned to drop out, but it was absolutely impossible to be an adequate mother and have a life, she said.

Stephen never had a strategy about anything. He just went ahead and did stuff, then tried retrospectively to figure out why.

#nell zink #the wall creeper