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jimingyue · 5 months

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Cat Tumblr Dashboard Simulator

🖋️ meowful-musings Follow

🕊️ birdwatching Follow

what's wrong with dry food??? my humans feed me it all the time and i think it's fine

💀 elusivehider-deactivated948204

op wheres the natural feeding option

🌲 outdoorsy Follow

you guys are getting fed?

#im a barn cat so maybe im missing something here #meowtthew don't look

7,192 notes

☀️ pawsitive-affurmations Follow

ITS OKAY TO BE A MOGGIE

YOU ARE NOT LESS VALID IF YOU ARE NOT A SPECIFIC PEDIGREE!!!!!

☀️ pawsitive-affurmations Follow

extra special shout out to cats who have "common" coat colors. grey tabbies and black cats i am rubbing against your head affectionately <3

🪤 m0usetrap01 Follow

as a grey tabby i really needed to hear this :"3

#i feel like i never see positivity posts for moggies even tho we're the most common type of cat....

154,688 notes

🎵 rage-against-the-meowchine Follow

i cant believe there are cats ACTUALLY advocating for kittens to be separated from their mothers before 12 weeks??? kittens still need to learn how to interact with other cats before being placed into their furever home omg you guys know you're advocating for undersocialized and aggressive cats right

❤️ loving-paws284 Follow

um op some of us??? matured early??????? i was separated from my mother at 7 weeks and i turned out fine... interesting how you assume that kittens being separated from their mothers at a younger age will lead to the degeneracy of the next generation...hmm i wonder where i've heard that before...

🐈 fluffy-the-cat Follow

OP got bit too hard during a play-fight as a kitten and it shows XD

🐟 tunafeesh Follow

also op have you ever considered that just because somecat is kind of scared and unable to deal with strange cats or humans, it doesn't mean they don't deserve to be adopted?? you sound like a vet psyop honestly

🎵 rage-against-the-meowchine Follow

oh meow god saying that kittens should be fully weaned before leaving their mother is NOT veterinarian rhetoric and i never said that they deserve to be euthanized!!! my mother literally died when i was 3 weeks old and it seriously messed up my development so stop putting words in my mouth, thanks

anyway friendly reminder that underweaned kittens are prone to illness and often struggle with basic cat behaviors like litterbox usage, and in some nyavinces it's even considered kitten abuse

#discourse #cant believe "kitten abuse is bad" is controversial now

32,456 notes

🍃 naturalliving Follow

BORN TO DIE

WORLD IS A FUCK

猫神 Kill Em All 1989

I am trash cat

410,757,864,530 DEAD BIRDS

#outdoorliving #outdoorcats please interact #outdoorcat friendly

48,971 notes

🎣 salmonpurina Follow

can't believe cats are uncritically reblogging that born to die world is a fuck post. i know it's funny but op is literally an outdoor cat truther

#like cmon now you just have to go to their blog #lulu speaks

34 notes

💀 tabbystripes-deactivated098712

gentle reminder that pushing cups off the table is not cute and can cause a lot of distress in your human!!!! gentle reminder that our teeth and claws can easily hurt them more than they can hurt us!!!!

🐰 evil-tabbystripes Follow

evil reminder that the cup should always be pushed off the table. evil reminder that you should always bite and claw at your human no matter what. you can do whatever you want forever

💀 tabbystripes-deactivated098712

make your own pawst

💀 laser-point-deactivated8574721

umm i know a tomcat who did that and his human ended up putting him down so...

👬🏻 nyasunaruenjoyer Follow

Nyaverage shelter cat behavior

#not nyaruto #re-nyab #pickles shut up

545,460 notes

🌈 nyaoi-warrior Follow

saw two male cats sleeping together on the porch today. homeow behavior imo

💡 discourse-meows Follow

hey um what the fuck??? it's really not okay of you to go assuming other cat's sexualities, especially cats you don't even know???? as a queer cat i'm VERYY uncomfortable. real-ass cats didn't consent to your nyaoi fetish, thanks

🌈 nyaoi-warrior Follow

1. i was making. a joak

2. i'm literally gay???

#literally what's your pawblem

7 notes

🎩 amazingcatshow12 Follow

reblog if you've ever caught the laser pointer

🎩 amazingcatshow12 Follow

i know you fuckers are lying

🍭 gaykittens Follow

this tom hasn't caught the laser pointer

🎩 amazingcatshow12 Follow

shut the heull up

988,653 notes

🐾 b-e-a-n-t-o-e-s Follow

grey toebeans >>>>>>>>> pink toebeans and don't let the haters make you believe otherwise

🐁 ladymouser Follow

op shut the fuck up ALL toebeans are beautiful!!! just bc you're miserable and insecure doesn't mean you can bring others down based on things they can't control

🐾 b-e-a-n-t-o-e-s Follow

oh so the cat-human separationist wants to preach to us

#long post #cat #fake dashboard #unreality #dashboard simulator

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lactoseintolerentswag · 8 months

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Rise Characterizations Pt. 4!!!!

Nearing an end with writing notes for turtles. Thinking of posting about April and Splinter separately, and then a big post for side characters.

Raph, Leo, and Donnie here. Now let's start with

Mikey Character Notes

Language Habits:

Catchphrase: "razzmatazz"

Tendency to "hoo-ha!"

Uses aave/bae

Like Raph and Leo, he will verbalize his attacks, but notably less than the aforementioned two. His most common phrases: "power whip jitsu" (chain moves), and "power fun jitsu" (use of his fire)

Shortens words/phrases in his excitement (i.e. the famous omigosh), but lengthens words in his wonder/amazement like drawing out wow into wooooooow

Uses a lot of idioms, i.e. "give us the 911", "hit the bricks", "you've been workin' a nerve"

Uses a lot of alliterations, especially when describing something

Refers to splinter as "pop" or "dad", with the rare "father" (usually for dramatics)

Will refer to others using "chico", "dude", or "man"

Answers the phone with "shell-o"

Personality:

Oblivious. A lot of stuff goes over his head, or he'll pick on the wrong thing to focus on. Like thinking they're part imitation crab men

Passionate. He throws himself into everything, whether that be cooking, fighting, or art. Sometimes this focus comes at his own detriment (i.e. forgetting to tell his brothers that Meatsweats mutated on t.v. bc he was cooking his pork risotto)

Optimistic, a dreamer. Not one to back down from doom and gloom, and is often among the first of the brothers to take action. Has a lot of perseverance

Believes the best in everyone. He can easily connect and empathize with others, most notably Draxum

Blunt, he doesn't hide his opinions and can accidentally be a little too harsh. On the other hand, he uses his persona of "Doctor Delicate Touch" to purposefully use his bluntness. He doesn't really much to hide on what he thinks about people

Sensitive, he's easily swayed by the emotion or pathos of others (read: gullible). This also mean his ego is easily damaged, which can contribute to his competitiveness with Leo at times and his inferiority complex with Raph babying him

The emotional heart of the team, he keeps the brothers grounded in empathizing with others

Energetic. Mikey's the wildcard. No one can guess what's coming out of his mouth next, and his fighting style is very innovative. All his energy gives him a charming amount of "razzmatazz"

Firey. Mikey's a pretty expressionate guy. He doesn't hide his emotions, and he doesn't really hide his anger. Sometimes this comes out in his bluntness, and sometimes this comes out in strained rage that has a boiling point

Looks up to his brothers. He has a lot of admiration for his older brothers. Whenever he's put in a corner he thinks what would Raph do, he's grateful for Leo's advocacy, and likes spending a lot of time with Donnie and his inventions. He also has a need to prove himself to his older brothers due to his admiration

Miscellaneous:

First to unlock mystic powers

Nicknames/code names: "Doctor Delicate Touch" and "Doctor Feelings" are self-proclaimed titles, "orange pawn" code name by Donnie, "Michael" nickname by Donnie, and "Flavortown" is his video game handle

Named his piggy bank "Mrs. Porky Coin"

Only chooses scissors in rock, paper, scissors

Has the top score in "Pance Pance Revolution" (rise's equivalent of DDR)

Well that's all the turtles for reference notes. I think I'll post Splinter next :)

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt michelangelo #character analysis #long post #fanfic #writing #critter talks

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gloomwitchwrites · 3 months

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Break Up with Your Toxic Boyfriend (1 of 4)

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: emotional hurt/comfort, brief discussion of verbal and emotional injury, protective Kyle, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

With no one to turn to, you contact Gaz, knowing that he'll listen. But old instincts are hard to ignore, and Gaz comes to you because your current boyfriend isn't worth your love. He needs you to understand that.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // break up with your toxic boyfriend masterlist

It’s late. The colors on the television are bright in the dark room. Sound is off but Kyle isn’t watching. It’s more for the background. A distraction. All the muscles in his body ache. That’s how it always is when he returns from another deployment.

Everything is fine until he arrives home and plops onto the sofa. Like a slumbering bear emerging from winter hibernation, his body reacts to the sudden silence of rest as if peace isn’t something Kyle deserves. It’s why he’s always gone, and because of his continuous absences, you left.

Lonely. You were always lonely with him, and it’s because Kyle made it so. It’s a constant regret that sits in the back of his throat like spice buildup. It burns. Rages. Simmers.

When Kyle’s phone starts buzzing, he doesn’t notice at first. The screen is bright like the television, but it isn’t until its rattling boxy body shifts that Kyle’s gaze glances downward. He considers leaving it, allowing the caller to fall to voicemail, but something stirs in his stomach. It hooks his attention.

Perhaps it’s the late hour or the sudden tightness in his chest. Something is bothering him like stubborn sticky spots on the kitchen floor.

Kyle sits up, reaching for the vibrating phone on the tabletop.

Your name scrolls across the screen.

At first, Kyle’s mind cannot comprehend it. The letters that make up your name move over the screen of the phone in a blur, almost like they’re moving too quickly. But that isn’t possible. Kyle’s mind simply cannot comprehend why the hell you’re calling him this late at night.

You are no longer his. The two of you aren’t together. You moved on and rightfully so. Kyle has seen all the social media posts, and sometimes the blokes at work might bring you up, usually to provoke him. But the fucking joke is on them. The separation was mutual. It was kind and calm and fine.

But that doesn’t mean Kyle hasn’t thought about you. There is no box inside his head to put you in. There is no hole or lock or key or barren wasteland where he could simply toss your memory into and forget.

Kyle didn’t want to pull away. He didn’t want to let you go.

But you weren’t happy. He was always gone, and still is. Kyle never figured out how to be a partner to you when he was a partner to his work.

He regrets not fighting for you. He regrets not speaking up instead of gently bowing out.

And it’s late. It’s fucking late. Why are you calling him?

Hope—or a sliver of it—blooms in his chest, twisting around inside his body like ribbons around bone. When the feeling pulls taut, that excitement slides into worry.

The two of you are not together.

You rarely call him.

But his phone is buzzing.

And you are waiting on the other end.

Kyle’s slides his thumb across his phone’s screen, answering the call. He brings it up his ear, and that is when he hears it—a choked inhalation. It is one he recognizes. You’re crying, and trying to hide it.

“What’s wrong?” asks Kyle automatically, the instinct to take care of you rising to the surface.

There is a soft sniffle before you speak. “It’s—fuck. I’m sorry for calling you this late. I didn’t think you’d even pick up. Or be home. Are you home? Shit. I—”

“What’s wrong?” he repeats, because there has to be something wrong. You’re calling him, not your boyfriend. “Are you hurt?”

The idea of someone putting hands on you builds in his mind. It is followed by so many other possibilities. A wrecked car. Someone following you home. Everything.

“No—I mean.” You pause, sighing. The difficulty to communicate doesn’t sit right with him. You’re clearly in distress and the need to fix it is unbearable.

“Are you at home?” This time Kyle lowers his voice. Makes it soft. Gentle.

“Yes,” you answer.

He nods as if you can see him. “I’m coming over.” Kyle is already pushing off the couch, shrugging on his coat, and reaching for his keys.

“Kyle.” You say his name—just his name—and it says so much.

The ribbon between his bones loosens. Tightens. Ties his emotions and memory of you all together until your face is all he can picture.

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

Kyle makes it in fifteen.

When you answer the door, Kyle shatters like glass hurled against the wall. Your eyes are red and puffy from crying. The look on your face dances between anger, sadness, and relief. He has no idea where on the spectrum he currently sits but this vision of you only puts him back to those days when he’d come home for a few days, taking off again, leaving you with nothing for stretches at a time.

There are no awkward greetings. No embarrassed flushes. Kyle does not hesitate, and you open for him. He reaches for you, and you answer in kind, embracing Kyle so hard you might squeeze the air from his lungs.

That would be fine. Kyle would happily suffocate.

Kyle stands and holds you, breathing in your familiar scent, pressing his face into your hair. His eyes close, and it’s just like before. Like you never left him. The sensation of you this close ignites every possessive part of him. It tells him to not let go and to keep you close.

But you are not his woman. Not anymore. And yet you should be.

He does not pull away until you do. But you don’t retreat into your flat, or slip out of reach. You stay right where you are, the two of you hovering just inside the doorway. On instinct, Kyle is touching you, one hand cupping the side of your face, your tears staining his skin where he touches your flesh. His other hand is on your upper arm, thumb rubbing across the bare skin there in gentle strokes.

You begin to melt, the muscles in your body relaxing. What Kyle wants to do is to take you to the couch or the bed, to drape you over his body, to place you in his lap. That is the intimacy he craves. It’s what he would do if you were still his.

Those gorgeous lips of your part, mouth opening as if you wish to speak, but whatever you want to say is lodged in your throat. In their place come fresh tears and sudden shifts of emotions that range from frustration to despair.

You’re hurting. You’re hurting so much, and Kyle only wants to fix things.

“Look at me,” murmurs Kyle, both hands now cradling your face. “Let’s get you settled. Yeah?” You nod, your small smile forced. “Come with me,” he coaxes.

He draws away and gently reaches out to take your hand, guiding you over to the sofa. He instructs you to recline, grabbing a few more pillows and a blanket. Once you’re all tucked in, Kyle digs around in your kitchen searching for snacks while the kettle boils for tea.

The need to take care of you is overwhelming. Kyle’s head throbs from the incessant voice that tells him to get you calm, to make you comfortable, to listen when you’re ready. The routine is easy, and Kyle provides, executing what you need without prompting or even second guessing it.

And you open up for him. Thank him. Reach out with your hand to hold his as he sits next to you on the couch. You’re calmer now with your tears wiped away and your face no longer puffy.

“Ready to talk about it?”

Your thumb runs along the edge of your mug. “Still want to hear it?”

“You can tell me anything,” he replies automatically.

You lick your lips and inhale. “He yelled at me.” By the defeat in your tone, Kyle can immediately tell that this isn’t the first time.

Kyle stays quiet, allowing you to take the lead, to tell it however you need to.

“This time it happened after we met up with some of his friends. I called him ‘boyfriend’ and got a few odd looks. In the car he told me not to call him that. I didn’t understand so I pushed.” You glance down at your tea. “He screamed the whole ride home. Dropped me off here and wouldn’t even look at me.”

Kyle goes cold all over. You’ve been with this guy for almost six months and he’s upset that you referred to him as your ‘boyfriend?’ No. Fuck him. That’s fuck boy behavior. That’s a man who wants all the benefits without any of the commitment. You don’t deserve that. And this fucker doesn’t deserve you.

Sighing, you reach for your phone and unlock it, turning it around to present it. Kyle takes it, staring at the screen. There are texts upon texts from the guy, all of which you’ve left unanswered. It starts as an apology and quickly becomes angrier as he scrolls.

But you did answer him. It’s the very last message. You sent it just before you called Kyle.

We’re done, it reads.

And there is no answering reply. There are no pulsing bubbles to even indicate that he’s formulating a response.

Good. Fucking good.

Kyle extends his arm, returning the phone. You don’t lock it. You shut it down, tossing it onto the table. Placing the mug of tea down, you sit up, staring intensely into Kyle’s eyes. There is so much he sees there, but he won’t move first even though he wants to, even though he wants you to return to his arms so he can remind you just how perfect the two of you are for each other.

But sometimes memory and the movement of it are just the length of a singular breath.

Maybe it is Kyle that moves first. Maybe it is you. In moments—seconds—you are straddling Kyle’s lap, arms laced around the back of his neck, your mouths pressed together in perfectly wanton need, a reunion that shakes every bone in his body.

You are fresh air. Cold ice cream on a hot summer day. Strawberries with sugar and cream. Sweet. Perfect. And only for his consumption. That is always how it should be.

Kyle’s hands slide up your body, over every curve.

“I miss you. I miss you all the time,” you confess, fingers digging into the front of his shirt.

Your admission is validation.

“I’d never tell you to not call me ‘boyfriend,’” murmurs Kyle against your mouth before going in for another kiss. “I’d want to hear you say it all the time.”

His words are a promise. An invitation.

Take me back. Please. Choose me.

Your lips part and Kyle slides his tongue inside, relearning your flavor. It is heaven dissolving on his tongue. He chases it, chases you, until you’re tugging at his clothes, wanting them gone.

It doesn’t matter that this is your sofa. If you want him, Kyle will lay himself bare, let you have whatever the fuck you want. There isn’t much to remove from you, but once the two of you are bare and you are straddling his lap, Kyle gives all his love and attention to these next moments.

Your body briefly resists, and then it melts, allowing him entrance. Kyle wraps one arm around your waist, hand splayed over your lower back to support your weight as you roll your hips up and down his cock. His other hand holds onto the side of your throat, keeping your gaze on him as you fuck yourself on him.

It’s glorious. Perfect. You are so slick and warm around him. He never forgot, but the real thing is better than memory. Better than his hand in the shower or the dark. You are moaning, light and wavering and only for him.

Your fingers dig in, nails clawing but not tearing. On the next rock of your hips, Kyle slides deep, and the sound you make nearly snaps his control. He holds fast, hand sliding to squeeze your ass as your movements become frantic and with no purposeful rhythm. You’re seeking your end, and Kyle wants you to have it. He needs you to have it.

“Come on my cock, love. For me. Yes. Like that.” You squeeze and Kyle groans loudly. “That’s it. Fucking hell, love.

You turn your face into his neck to stifle the cry that erupts from your throat as your orgasm hits you. Kyle nearly finishes himself, your pussy a vice around him, claiming him. A shudder runs through your limbs, and then you’re nipping at Kyle’s neck and jaw.

“Finish inside me,” you whimper, drawing back enough to gaze into his eyes.

Kyle doesn’t need you to say it twice.

Changing position, Kyle slides both hands to the curve of your ass. Lifting, he shifts you until he’s propped up on his knees. Your legs drape over his arms, completely open for him. You cling to him and Kyle brings your bodies together over and over again.

He will finish—he will, but Kyle needs to hear that word first.

“Are you mine?” he asks between clenched teeth. It’s the only thing keeping him steady. He’s ready to snap, ready to release.

You nod and it isn’t enough.

“Say it.”

“Yours.”

“Mine.”

Kyle grinds his pelvis against you, rubbing perfectly across your already sensitive clit. You cry out, clench around him again, but still, he needs to hear you say it.

“What am I to you?”

“Kyle,” you moan, and he laughs.

“Not that.” A little spasm runs through you and Kyle feels it reverberate all the way to his brain. “Won’t give you what you want until you say it.”

You gasp as the next thrust punches the air from your lungs. “Boyfriend,” you manage to whimper. “You’re my boyfriend.”

Fucking right.

Kyle immediately takes you to your back on the couch, thrusting a few more times before pressing taut, sealing your bodies together as his own release overcomes him.

His mouth meets yours and Kyle’s body is singing, pulsing, and bright.

You are his.

You are his again.

taglist:

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morganbritton132 · 11 months

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I absolutely love every time other people find something out about Steve and are just like ???

I wonder if any of his student’s parents are fans of Eddie’s but have no idea their kid’s teacher is married to him (perhaps finding out at career day 👀)

I love the thought of some rock n roll dad (aka: the guy in the minivan blaring Rage Against the Machine during morning drop off (aka: aka: my dad)) meeting his kid’s teacher during open house and seeing a picture on his desk of him and guitar legend, Eddie Munson.

Steve’s in the middle of explaining the curriculum for the year when Rock N Roll Dad points to a picture of him and Eddie backstage at the Rock N Roll Hall of Fame last year when Eddie presented like, “You like that guy?”

Steve looks from Rock N Roll Dad to the picture and then back, “Yeah, you could say that.”

Then he goes back to talking about what they should expect in terms of homework and that was that until parent/teacher conferences.

The first thing Rock N Roll Dad clocks in the new picture on Steve’s desk. It replaced the Eddie Munson one with a new one of the two of them in the parking lot after a local show. Steve’s got his arm thrown around Eddie’s neck, both of them smiling wide, and Gareth is in the background giving them bunny ears.

Rock N Roll Dad points to the framed picture like, “Pretty cool to have met ‘em.”

“Yeah,” Steve nods. “It’s one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.”

Rock N Roll Dad is not gay himself but he is not one of those ultra straight Corroded Coffin fans that liked to pretend that half the band isn’t queer. He was actually watching the MTV Music Awards show that Eddie publicly came out at by declaring his love for some guy named Steve, and actually.

Rock N Roll Dad thought it made a lot of sense that Eddie Munson was gay because well. A lot of his songs were… phallic.

So, he knows.

He knows that Eddie Munson is gay and that he’s married to some guy whose name isn’t even listed on his Wikipedia page, and he knows that he lives in Chicago, but what he doesn’t know is why he never put two and two together and got Steve Harrington.

There’s a different picture of Eddie Munson on Mr. Harrington’s desk when Rock N Roll Dad goes to talk to him after his kid gets detention for being a little shithead. There is framed original concept art for CC’s first album on the wall behind Steve when Rock N Roll Dad checks in on his kid during a zoom study session.

Hell, Rock N Roll Dad follows Eddie on Tiktok.

He has seen the ass shots that Eddie has posted of his husband in his running shorts, and he did think, yeah, that’s a great ass. He didn’t know he was thinking that about his kid’s math teacher!!

It’s not even Career Day when he discovers it. It’s the day before when they can set up their booths in the gym because Rock N Roll Dad may be a heavy metal fan always, but he’s also an accountant from 8:30 to 4:30 Monday thru Friday.

He’s struggling to keep his poster board up when in walks guitar legend, Eddie Munson. He’s carrying a box, following behind a guy carrying an iguana.

Rock N Roll Dad abandons everything and walks over to the booth across the way. He can hear the two bickering with each other but before he can say anything, Steve Harrington is there and he is distressed, “Why do you have that?!”

“Her name is Leia, Steve,” Dustin says, “and she has separation anxiety.”

Steve opens his mouth like he wants to complain but doesn’t even know where to begin so he just accepts it, “Is she going to eat somebody?”

“That happened one time!”

Eddie Munson, infamous guitarist that lived on Rock N Roll Dad’s walls as a teenager, uses the opportunity to slide up next to Mr. Harrington and wrap an arm around him. He kisses his cheek, “Baby, we’re here to help.”

“You’re here to guilt me into letting you be a part of Career Day.”

“I can multitask, babe,” Eddie grinned, still so close to Steve that his smile touches his cheek. Steve just sags against him and Rock N Roll Dad thinks, oh. He thinks, oh, shit.

“You have a fan,” Steve mumbles, pulling away a little. It takes Rock N Roll Dad a second to realize that they’re talking about him and then he thinks, fuck.

“Hey – Hi. Uh.” He stops, thinks about lying and saying he needs tape or something, but settles on, “I didn’t know my kid’s teacher married you.”

“Technically, I married him.”

“Technically, I married both of you,” Dustin pointed out. “I officiated the wedding.”

“Ah,” Rock N Roll Dad says because what else is there to say. “Big fan.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

#at this point in the timeline Steve has only been shot from waist down in Eddie’s Tiktok account #you may be thinking ‘is rock n roll dad Jeremy’s dad’ and he’s not #he’s the father of a kid that doesn’t give a shit about how their teacher is married to so when he goes home and says your math teacher is #married to a celebrity they’re like ‘I don’t know who that is so no he’s not’#so Steve’s students don’t find out until Eddie’s infamous ‘why is your math teacher my husband’ Tiktok #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson

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dotster001 · 6 months

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How they Get You under the Mistletoe, Part Two

Summary: Staff and Non NRC students x gn! Reader

A/N: IT IS 11:54 ON DECEMBER 25TH, SO I FINISHED THIS ON TIME LET'S FUCKING GO!

Part One

CW:It's in my pinned post, and I've mentioned this in a couple posts, but if this is the first of my stuff you've read, I view NRC as an actual college, so reader here is 18+. If it makes you more comfy, imagine it as grad school age. Also, use of alcohol in Crewel's part.

Dire Crowley

Rage Bait

The ghosts thought they were helping. They had decorated Ramshackle, and you were having a holiday party before your friends left for winter break. But they'd also put up mistletoe. And every time you tried to take it down, they'd float up and move it farther out of reach.

“Surely there's a special someone who'll be here tonight,” one of them said with a giggle.

“We just don't want you to regret not making a move, when you're our ages,” another one said with paternal softness.

You grumbled and stormed back over to the party, which was quickly getting out of hand. The later it got, more people showed up, and now there were more strangers than friends in your living space. And as though that wasn't bad enough-

“Prefect!”

You groaned when you heard the headmage’s voice. You turned around from the broken glass you were sweeping up, and sighed.

“What can I do for you, headmage?”

“I consider myself very generous, and can overlook a simple celebration, but this is out of hand.”

“Yah think?” You shouted, gesturing at the fight that had just broken out in the corner.

“How do you plan to shut it down?”

“I'm working on it!” You snapped, walking away with a dustpan full of glass, ready to sweep up the newest disaster.

“I have an idea,” he said, half a step behind you, not missing a single beat, despite the crowd doing its darndest to separate you.

“What is it?” You said, only half listening as you set down the dustpan.

He grabbed your arm, yanking you to the side.

“Kiss me,” he said with a wicked grin.

“What the fuck!”

He smirked even deeper, pointing up. And there was the mistletoe from earlier….but you could have sworn it was over there….

You made eye contact with one of the ghosts who winked at you.

“H-how is that gonna help?” You stuttered.

“Surely, your peers would find it unsettling to see the Headmage kissing his lover.”

“Lover?” You rolled your eyes. “You're not my lover-”

“But you'd like me to be,” his eyes twinkled.

“You don't even give me enough money to reward Grim when he actually passes a test.”

“Doesn't matter. I'm a handsome man. You can't say you're resistant to my charms.”

You pulled out of his grip and snapped.

“Oh please! If I was going to go for any of the staff, I'd go for Crewel!”

“Really?” His eyes narrowed. “Perhaps you're too scared to kiss me.”

“What!”

“You're worried that if you kiss me, you'll be forced to accept your feelings.”

“Shut up!”

“I'm a very generous lover-”

You slammed your lips against his, angrily. He kissed back with just as much force, his hands twining in your hair. The anger turned quickly to passion, and you were soon overwhelmed by the feelings inside you, shoving him away from you as you pressed your hands to your open mouth in shock.

He smirked, and you realized no one was in your dorm, except Ace, who was staring in complete disgust.

Divus Crewel

Double dog dare you

Vargas and Sam were both drinking with Crewel at the staff holiday party. It was meant to be a calm relaxed evening. But you'd shown up to interrogate the Headmage about something, and now Sam and Ashton were acting like fools.

“C'mon, man up!”

“We know you want to.”

“Gentlemen, please, let's be professional,” Divus grumbled as he threw back his glass.

“They aren't in your class anymore!”

“And my friends say that they are head over heels for you.”

“C'mon man up!”

“If you say man up one more time!” Divus scowled.

“If you don't, he will,” Sam snickered, pointing at Crowley, who did, indeed, seem to be trying to huddle you over to the mistletoe that someone had decided to put up for some reason. Though, the longer Crowley was shifting you, the clearer it became that this was a malicious plot.

“I dare you to swoop them up from under his wing, and give them a kiss they'll never forget,” Vargas said childishly.

Divus looked over at you, snatched Sam's drink, chugged it down, then stormed over to the both of you, buoyed on by the cheers of his friends.

“Scuse me Headmage,” he slurred, yanking you to him and kissing you sloppily.

…

When he woke up the next morning with a killer hangover, he would have thought it was all a dream. Until he saw you sleeping in a chair by his bed, holding a bucket full of vomit.

Mozus Trein

The Parent Trap

He'd invited you to the holiday party at his estate in the country. He thought it would be a low key way to introduce you to his daughters. If you got overwhelmed, you could blend into the crowd, or hide in his guest room upstairs, and no one would even notice you'd slipped away.

His daughters were a little too excited that he was dating again.

“Papa, you gotta!”

“It would be so romantic!”

The good news was, they liked you. Unfortunately (fortunately?) they might have been a little too excited.

“I'm not going to pull them away from the party, just to kiss them under a leaf,” he said with a glare.

“Don't worry, you don't have to pull them away!” Ania said with a smile, pulling out her magic pen. Unfortunately (fortunately?) Ania was incredibly gifted with flora magic. Materializing mistletoe above the two of you would be simple.

“I absolutely forbid it,” he hissed.

“Y/N! Over here please!” Darleen called to you. You politely excused yourself from the conversation you were having, and walked over to the group, eying his children nervously. Your gut instincts were definitely right.

“You don't have to-” Ania covered Trein’s mouth with her hand, giggling excitedly.

“What's going on?” You asked, eying him in concern.

“Just stand right there!” Darleen said, both daughters taking three steps back, before Ania quickly muttered a spell. You looked up and saw the mistletoe, your eyes widening. You looked over to his daughters, but they were already running away, hiding in the crowd.

You looked at Trein, feeling your cheeks warm as he stared at you with an empty expression on his face.

“We don't have to-”

He said, gently taking your hand in his, caressing the back with his thumb.

“I would be a fool not to accept this gift,” he said, sounding bitter, but there was light in his eyes. You smiled softly, and he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

Ashton Vargas

Decoration Team

He'd somehow tricked you into decorating the employee lounge with him. You always thought he was more brawn than brains, but this wasn't the first time he'd tricked you into manual labor, so maybe you were the dumb one.

“Hah! Good work!” He slapped your back affectionately, and you stumbled into the table you were decorating, causing a couple of the tchotchkes you'd just placed to tumble forward. You frowned, and sighed, but he laughed again.

“Forget the table. I need you for something,” he snatched your wrist, dragging you to a corner of the room. Then, with absolutely no warning, he picked you up, and placed you on his shoulders. You gripped his head, absolutely terrified that you'd tumble.

“Don't worry. I got you. That's why I built up these muscles!” He momentarily let go of your left thigh to flex. This did not ease your panic.

He reached into his pocket and handed you something.

“Hang that on the ceiling right above ya! Let me know when you're finished.”

You stared at the mistletoe, and sighed. The sooner you put it up, the sooner he'd put you down.

“So, uh, is this a popular decoration for a staff party?” You asked, trying to ease your anxiety through conversation.

“Nah.”

“Nah? Done, by the way.”

He gently let you down from his shoulders, then turned you to face him.

“This won't get much use at the party. This decoration is for my….personal…enjoyment,” he purred as he took your chin in his hand.

Sam

*Gasp* you tripped!

Sam's shop always had weird things. But definitely the weirdest thing it had at the moment was the out of control mistletoe bush. A student had bought it, tried to cast a spell on it, then promptly returned it when he realized it was growing beyond his control. Normally, Sam had a strict no return policy. But he'd stared at it for moment, then agreed to the return.

It was the end of the night, and he was finally getting around to fixing it. He was simply staring at it, trying to puzzle out how to clean it up. You were staying far away. Partially because the monstrosity the mistletoe had become was horrifying beyond the realms of imagination, but also because….

You know…

Mistletoe.

Not that Sam wasn't unbelievably attractive. It just would be awkward if you both ended up near it. And Sam was a professional. He'd probably just laugh lightly and send you on your way. But still…it would be awkward.

Right?

“Sam,” you said, but he was so engrossed, he didn't hear you.

“Sam, I'm gonna clock out-” you had taken a step forward, but tripped over what felt like an outstretched leg, right into his arms.

“Ah! Are you alright, my little imp?” His voice sounded concerned, but the expression on his face didn't quite match.

“Y-yeah,” you said, trying to pretend you didn't notice just where you both were standing. He looked you up and down, rubbing your arms, as though looking for any injuries.

“You're certain?”

The mistletoe creature thing wrapped around the two of you, and you stiffened as you were pushed closer together. You tried to keep your mind off of the muscle you were feeling under his clothes.

“I know how to fix this. But should I?”

“Huh?” You gasped, mildly horrified about the implications.

“I can get out of this easily, but I could leave you as a sacrifice to the mistletoe.”

“What!”

He snickered. “Or we can make a deal.”

Uh oh. You've seen him do this to other people, but never to you….

“Sam, you write my paycheck. You know I don't have any money to give you.”

“I don't want money. But you do have something I want,” he leaned in so that your noses were pressing together. “I'd like your heart. Think that's a deal you can make?”

Neige le Blanche

Marketing Campaign

After the SDC, Neige had pushed to get his manager to take you on. And now you were a notable up and comer, doing projects with Neige.

This campaign was for a cologne. It was winter themed, with hints of cinnamon and cloves, and Neige was to be the figurehead of the campaign. But he'd been insistent that you be his partner in this ad. You hadn't tested the product, you hadn't received a script or any information, other than the fancy outfit you'd been given for the photo.

Your manager was quickly giving you the rundown as hair and makeup worked on you, and you were just kind of nodding along, until,

“Wait, say that again?”

“You're going to be kissing his neck while you stand under the mistletoe?” Your manager said.

You stiffened, earning a scolding from your makeup guy for wrinkling your forehead.

“I know it's a big jump for his image, but your face will be at an angle, so you might not be associated with the image cha-”

“Does Neige know about this?” You asked, your voice squeaking a little.

“Yes. Of course he knows,” you manager rolled her eyes, before continuing with the brief.

Your manager continued briefing you, but you felt light headed and couldn't focus on her words.

Now that you were on the photo set, you stood stiffly waiting for the photographer to pose you.

“Sorry, Y/N, I meant to tell you about the shift in my image, but I forgot.”

Would it be unprofessional to say that it wasn't the image shift that had you tense?

“Don't worry about it, Neige,” you tried to laugh it off, but quickly you were being positioned for the photo, Neige tilting his head back, fully exposing his neck, where it was implied that he had used the cologne from the campaign.

You were positioned with your lips pressed to his neck. You really doubted you even needed makeup for this shot, your face was barely visible, but whatever.

“I'm really sorry, Y/N,” he whispered, barely moving his lips as the camera whirred.

“Don't worry about it,” you whispered into his neck.

“Alright, slowly kiss up his neck, then you're gonna grab his hair and kiss him. Slowly. We want to do this in one take,” the photographer said. You felt your cheeks grow warm, and you made eye contact with Neige, whose cheeks were slightly pink.

“Sorry,” he breathed hoarsely.

“It's fine,” you whispered, following instructions, slowly, and kissing him, the taste of apples invading your mouth.

“Got it!” The photographer shouted, and you both separated quickly.

The photographer grinned at the photos on his camera, then raised that smile to you, giving you a wink.

“You were right, Neige, they were perfect for this one!”

You turned to Neige, your eyes wide, and you noticed he was heavily avoiding eye contact, his face bright red.

Rollo Flamme

Purity check

Can you tell from how I write him that I have religious trauma? 😂

Now that you'd been studying at NBC for a semester-long exchange program, you realized how close you'd grown to him. But still, sometimes you felt like you needed him to back off. You weren't a child, you could do what you wanted. Including-

“It's none of your business if I made out with someone!”

“There are rules to be followed on this campus. I don't know how they did things at NRC, but we have standards here.”

“Look! I didn't make out with anyone! And if I did, I don't need to tell you about it!”

You both glared at each other. He broke first.

“Come,” he said, grabbing your arm, and pulling you to the corner of the room where the mistletoe hung. He shot a glare at the couple that was using it, and they ran.

Come to think of it….this whole party was illegal. Why was he zeroing in on you? How was that fair?

“Kiss me,” he demanded.

“What!” You shouted, and his glare deepened.

“If you're worried about appearances, we are under the mistletoe, so it would be socially acceptable.”

“That's not-”

“Kiss me, and prove that you haven't been illegally kissing someone while at an illegal party,” he looked so fucking smug. Like he knew he'd won.

“How is that going to prove-”

“I'll taste someone on you. If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear.”

“Everyone here is kissing people-”

“You're here to purify you from those mage’s poison-”

“You're insufferable!”

“Please just kiss him!” You'd forgotten the vice president was with him, too caught up in the anger you were filled with. “If you just do it, we can all go home! Please!”

You both glared at each other, then you sighed, and kissed him. When you pulled away, he pursed his lips, eying you up and down, his cheeks dusted in pink.

“Return to your dorm within the hour, and you won't receive detention.”

And then he waltzed out as though nothing happened.

Chenya

…I'm praying for your soul….

“Mwahahaha!”

You stiffened. You knew that laughter. He was here. You'd locked every door and window, just in case. You'd told him you were spending a quiet night in, when he'd stolen Ace's phone to text you. And you intended it to stay that way.

But that voice was nearby…

You grabbed a throw pillow from the sofa, preparing for the moment he would appear.

You felt something smack you in the face. You looked at the thing that hit you, that had fallen to your feet. You picked it up, rolling it around in your hands, before your eyes widened.

“Mwahahaha!”

“Wait…” you whispered, the implications of the mistletoe in your hands finally hitting.

The mistletoe was yanked from your hands, by an invisible monster. It reappeared above you, then a mouth was on yours. He tastes like stolen strawberries, and one too many desserts. The lips left yours, and you felt him disappear again. Then his tail appeared, wrapping around you, as you felt him set his chin on your shoulder, a purr making your heart rate calm.

“Mmm you're delicious. Glad I stole that little toy from Riddle,” he giggled.

“He doesn't know you're here, right?” You whispered.

“Hee hee,” he vanished with that giggle, as you heard.

“Y/N L/N! Relinquish the thief!”

....

Tag list- @shytastemakerthing @eccedentesiast-sapphic @leoll @stygianoir @lucifer5lucy

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #divus crewel x reader #dire crowley x reader #ashton vargas x reader #twst sam x reader #mozus trein x reader #rollo flamme x reader #neige leblanche x reader #chenya x reader

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99thpercentile · 8 months

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I get the feeling that I'm in the minority here, but I posit that GLaDOS actually is Caroline, and only "not the same person" in the sense that you'd look at your younger self and be like "that bitch ain't me." I think you actually have to go out of your way to interpret them as two separate people.

evidence:

voiced by the same person (I know the initial reasoning was that Valve didn't want to hire another voice actor for a few lines, but in casting Ellen McLain as Caroline, they incorporated her being the same person into the story).

GLaDOS automatically joins in saying "Yes sir, Mister Johnson" like saying it is permanently ingrained in her. you can interpret this as Caroline taking over, but she says "Why did I just—" immediately afterwards.

when GLaDOS talks about hearing the voice of a conscience, she says "for the first time it's MY voice." I don't think she means that she's hearing the woman she gets her literal voice from. she highlights it as distinctly DIFFERENT from hearing the voices of the cores, and I imagine if Caroline were a foreign entity whispering in her ear, the effect would've been much the same.

the GLaDOS project was originally started because Cave was dying and wanted his consciousness uploaded to a computer. the intent was always for the upload to be the same person. he said if he died first, he wanted Caroline to run the place, to be put in his computer. and that's exactly what happened.

GLaDOS not remembering she's Caroline until old Aperture always made sense to me as the result of a deliberate choice on the part of the scientists. Caroline didn't want to be uploaded, and as soon as they switched GLaDOS on, she tried to kill everyone. it's logical for the scientists to think that if they suppressed her memories, she'd have no reason to try to kill them (but instead, she was just filled with murderous rage and no longer knew why).

the story just doesn't have the same impact otherwise. GLaDOS's reactions to rediscovering old Aperture make more sense if it's her past she's rediscovering, rather than the past of...a human that was shoved into the chassis with her. if it were the second one, I think she would just feel violated, not have any major revelations.

counter-evidence:

"now little Caroline is in here too" lyric from Want You Gone

GLaDOS says she found out "where Caroline lives in [her] brain" and deleted her, like she's a separate entity

but GLaDOS is a habitual liar. she acts like deleting Caroline means she's fully back to her old self and has gotten rid of the part of her that made her want to save Chell's life, but there's...lots of evidence that she still cares about Chell after the fact (letting her go anyway, the companion cube, the turret opera if you think GLaDOS arranged that, talking to the co-op bots about Chell like she's an ex she's still heartbroken over...). I also think GLaDOS would like to imagine her and Caroline as two separate entities, in the same way you might find your younger self embarrassing and want to distance yourself from that person. I think it's notable that both instances where she refers to Caroline as a separate entity are at the end of the game, after Chell has been passed out a while and she's had time to process everything and compartmentalize. her instinct when the revelations are first happening is to refer to Caroline as if she is her.

now I don't like stories where a robot has to become or be seen as more human in some way for them to be sympathetic. but I think Portal 2 is an excellent subversion of this trope, because GLaDOS is a robot that learns she used to be human and then discards that humanity (symbolically if not literally). Caroline may not have wanted to be uploaded, but from the Want You Gone lyrics "one day they woke me up / so I could live forever / it's such a shame the same will never happen to you" I think we can say that GLaDOS definitely prefers being a robot now that she is one.

anyway this post was supposed to be much shorter than this, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

#GLaDOS #Caroline #Portal #Portal 2 #original #wall of text

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months

Note

May I ask why you dislike Malleus so much?

[My TWST character tier list is here.]

[For context on why I dislike Malleus: here and here!]

Many of the reasons previously cited above are still applicable presently (though some points may be outdated since those posts were written before book 7). In this post, I will mostly be focusing on why my thoughts on Malleus have not changed despite the new added content of book 7.

I ramble on for a bit, so I put my thoughts below the cut! Ah—but before you read, please be aware that these are my opinions and not meant to be disparaging to any Malleus likers out there.

Me disliking him should not take away any of your joy!! Go out there and love him for me ^^

A lot of the things happening in book 7 were a long time coming, so really I felt as though Malleus finally “losing it” was affirming of all the red flags from before. Since day 1, his loneliness, aloofness, and awkwardness around his peers were key traits of his. What book 7 does is it magnifies the darkest aspects of his character.

We’ve seen several examples when Malleus has fits of rage and his power flares out of control or he at least threatens it. In Glorious Masquerade, he becomes enraged at the realization that the invitation he received was a false one. In A Firelit Sky, he insinuates that he would be upset if people questioned his presence for the trip. He crushes Lilia’s phone in his own Dorm Uniform vignettes, destroying a friend’s belonging because he was upset about not being invited to an occasion. In book 7, we see a flashback of Malleus freezing the whole castle as a child because his grandmother, overtaken by her duties, could no longer dine with him as promised. Malleus’s temper has been a persistent issue since childhood.

We’ve also seen him act callously toward his classmates and misuse magic to force his will upon them. Remember him stopping time during Endless Halloween Night? How he wanted some ghosts to enjoy themselves instead of missing out on being with everyone for the holiday? Now he’s stopping time in book 7 and keeping everyone in their happy dreams forever. Remember how (in his Dorm Uniform vignettes) Malleus thought it would be easier to make the other dorm leaders come to him instead of him coming to them for their meeting? So then he disregards their autonomy and casts magic that’s normally cast on objects on living beings (something which the other dorm leaders take offense to, as it is dehumanizing). He fails to consider their perspective when he returns to Diasomnia (he basically goes, “well, I wouldn’t have been mad if they cast that spell on me!”). Malleus learns nothing from the experience despite Lilia trying to tell him over and over to be more considerate of others and how different they are from him. Now we have Malleus relating his peers to a virtual pet that he never ever wants to leave him.

Malleus can be stubborn and arrogant. He has a very single-minded way of thinking and often does not consider others’ feelings before he makes the decision for them. Malleus can be insecure. He doesn’t even fully realize he is lonely until Yuu suggests it in book 7, but he’s capable of acting on his bouts of intense emotion. He has always had these flaws, and now they are being brought out in full; we’re being forced to confront OB Malleus and all the complicated, twisting feelings of abandonment that come with him.

Let’s make one thing very clear: I don’t take issue with the overblot boys in general; they are meant to be morally grey characters that act in dubious ways. It would be insincere for me to claim “I dislike Malleus because he did bad things!” News flash, many TWST characters have done bad things or at least questionable things that would give you pause. What separates Malleus from the others and makes him egregious enough to earn significant ire from me is the particular actions he takes (which triggers a personal disdain of mine).

Malleus consistently exerts a scary amount of control over others. This is not a new idea; Riddle and Vil are also notorious for being oppressive or controlling, and I’ll be the first to admit that. (You’ll note that those two are low on my tier list too.) The thing is, Riddle and Vil were very overt and open about their demands for obedience. Malleus can be too, but it’s so insidious how he acts within the dreams. He ignores people’s autonomy, gaslights others, and, again, acts like he knows what’s best for them 💀 Other characters have done these things too, but never to the same scale or by exerting this much power. Malleus then resorts to violence when his lies don’t work, even though he’s fully aware of the power disparity between him and his peers. It feels particularly scummy to me because of how Malleus frames his selfish actions and feelings (his wish for Lilia to not leave) as selfless (for the benefit of his peers) and something everyone else would want in order to justify it to himself 💦 I know he is in (or bordering on) overblot so he wasn’t thinking rationally at that point, plus the fact that many examples I listed come from events or vignettes which may not be canon to the main story timeline. Still, there is a concerning pattern of behavior with Malleus misusing his powers or not being considerate of others and failing to grow from those mistakes. You can only go “oopsie” so many times before you harm someone by accident. I expect people to learn their lesson by then and adopt some proper restraint. He keeps claiming his intentions are good as if that’s supposed to dismiss any harm that results from his actions??? No, his actions still harmed people and he has to deal with the consequences of them, not have them hand-waved away or excused. The behavior I’m witnessing is reminiscent of like… having a toxic friend that is constantly told “hey, what you’re doing/saying makes me feel uncomfortable; do you think you could dial it back?” and the friend tells you they’ll try but then never actually changes their behavior or defends their behavior with “I didn’t mean to, so therefore I did not actually harm anyone”.

You can give me a backstory, but a backstory only goes so far as explaining why he is the way he is; it does not excuse him at all. You can say “He’s a fairy! He’s actually a child mentally! He's sheltered!” until the cows come home, but when he relies on magic to quickly fix the problems he caused instead of stopping to genuinely reflect on why people are mad at him, it’s hard for me to sympathize. Because of his immense power and status, the only person that can reasonably hold Malleus accountable is himself, and he has not demonstrated to me that he can do that.

Book 7 is essentially the payoff for allllll the tropes and traits I never liked to begin with coming into fruition. That’s why Malleus has stayed where he is in my TWST character ranking. I did not expect the writing, no matter how good or tear-jerking, to change that. Until Malleus shows that he’s fully apologetic, recognizes the error of his ways, and consciously tries to connect with others and understand their perspectives, he’s staying squarely where he is.

Am I saying a character with flaws is a bad thing? No, absolutely not! Flaws are what make a character interesting, I’m not faulting Malleus or any other characters for having them. Am I saying that he is poorly written? No, I think Malleus is actually quite a complex character and he’s been really fascinating to follow. I love the emotional complexity of book 7–and it was so clever how the devs related his virtual pet to wishing for happily ever afters for people in his real life. This magnitude of danger is also just about what I expect of book 7 and the themes of togetherness that TWST was angling for from the start. But the fact remains unchanged that I perceive his attitude as irritating at best and reprehensible at worst.

My distaste for Malleus is based entirely on my own views and life experiences. The specific flaws Malleus has and how he acts because of them don’t sit well with me and the kinds of things I enjoy in fiction. It’s not anything deeper than that!

#twst #twisted wonderland #Malleus Draconia #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #book 7 spoilers #notes from the writing raven #question #Riddle Rosehearts #Vil Schoenheit #Lilia Vanrouge #a firelit sky spoilers #glorious masquerade spoilers #malleus dorm uniform vignette spoilers #endless halloween night spoilers #Yuu

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vickyvicarious · 24 days

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Jonathan's decision to play along today was very difficult to make. But, in the end, it was the right move. He set aside his anger and impulse to rebel... perhaps as much or more out of fear rather than just logic, but we do see his reasoning and it makes sense.

And honestly, I think he pushed his luck nearly to the limit anyways. Look at how Dracula asked. First, he waited a few days after everything that went down with the vampire ladies, perhaps to see if Jonathan would bring up the topic. If Jonathan does, maybe he had plans to lie to him again, to gaslight him about either never sleeping outside of his room, or about Dracula finding him dreaming somewhere else and helping him back to his own bed. Still, Jonathan's reaction to such a lie could very easily force an end to all this pretending. But since he never brings it up at all, Dracula knows he can continue his game. In fact, Jonathan is proving to be a very resilient player, one who has just enough struggle in him to make it more interesting, without being too unmanageable or ever close to actually get away.

Dracula gives Jonathan this 'request' "in the suavest tones" - he's really emphasizing his charm here, being extra friendly as he tries to make Jonathan feel even worse. But then, contrary to what he's seen thus far, Jonathan hesitates.

I would fain have rebelled, but felt that in the present state of things it would be madness to quarrel openly with the Count whilst I am so absolutely in his power; and to refuse would be to excite his suspicion and to arouse his anger. He knows that I know too much, and that I must not live, lest I be dangerous to him; my only chance is to prolong my opportunities. Something may occur which will give me a chance to escape. I saw in his eyes something of that gathering wrath which was manifest when he hurled that fair woman from him. He explained to me that posts were few and uncertain, and that my writing now would ensure ease of mind to my friends; and he assured me with so much impressiveness that he would countermand the later letters, which would be held over at Bistritz until due time in case chance would admit of my prolonging my stay, that to oppose him would have been to create new suspicion.

I think he must have been sitting there making these arguments to himself in real time. Wrestling with his fear and his outrage and possibly losing most of his control over his expression and body language as he did so. And at first, this is fun for Dracula. He wants Jonathan to struggle like this. It's fun to watch. But then, the longer it goes on, the more real becomes the possibility that this will be Jonathan's breaking point. And if it is, if he outright says "no" even this once, then Dracula's entire game is ruined. He's just committed to wanting to keep Jonathan around for another full month. Jonathan passed the test with the other vampires. Dracula has been looking forward to this. How dare he spoil this -

Dracula's rage rises as he finds himself forces to make excuses and be convincing when he likely assumed he no longer needed to put in that much effort. Jonathan finally does agree, but he didn't do so right away. And it's a very fine line, because continuing to do this does in fact make him more interesting and fun in the long run, and thus perhaps allow him to live longer. Maybe after they separate for the evening (morning, being nocturnal) Dracula would actually look back on this moment with indulgent enjoyment. He pushed perhaps right up to the limit of what Dracula would tolerate, but he didn't quite cross it, so the game can continue. But at the same time, pushing like this (or rather, resisting being pushed before giving in) is extremely dangerous in the moment - because in the moment, there's still a chance Jonathan could cross the line. Dracula has a temper and he will take it out on Jonathan if he decides he's had enough.

It's that tightrope again. More of the same. But I just... love imagining this moment. Dracula's sickly-sweet smugness at the start, his utter confidence in his victory once again. And Jonathan - pausing. Saying nothing in response. Thinking it over, taking so long to do so, trying so hard to keep a neutral face but not fully succeeding, maybe keeping his head bowed so his expression can't be seen. Dracula's anger building along with almost a sort of desperation, as he lays out all this bullshit reasoning, maybe losing control of his own tone somewhat as he gets more aggressively vehement. The absolute tension rising, up and up right until the moment Jonathan looks up and agrees, when it suddenly dissipates. But the aftermath lingers, even in Dracula's victory. Even as Jonathan writes the three letters, one after another under Dracula's watchful eye. Dracula takes them from his hand, squeezes his shoulder in ostensible thanks, but such a clear threat. Jonathan's face twitching, a little spasm of fear and despair, at the contact.

It could be SUCH a good scene in an adaptation that emphasized the abusive dynamic here.

#dracula daily #count dracula #jonathan harker #dracula's version of will-they-won't-they except what's in question is if jonathan will break the pretence

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fancyfeathers · 5 months

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Yandere Dottore (normalized yandere AU)

going from this post and the credit to the names goes to @busy-dadzawa-fish who I asked if I could use the names they came up with here as placeholder names for the other darlings when writing from different perspectives

The last time you saw Zandik was the day before he was expelled from the Akademiya. You had always been close friends, sticking with each other through thick and thin, but something felt off. He had tried to convince you that you should leave the Akademiya and how they are constricting your research, you thought of it as just a silly idea, nothing more. Then the next day he was gone, you heard whispers about how he was conducting inhumane experiments and the Akademiya had no choice but to expel him. You felt horribly betrayed by someone you once called friend, but now as you hear it everything made sense. Zandik was always secretive when discussing his research with you, not to mention his controlling tendencies when you would do something he didn’t like.

You didn’t hear from your old friend for years, not until you received a letter from a Fatui soldier, your heart sank when you read it. The letter was from Zandik, or rather his new alias, Il Dottore,number two of the Fatui Harbingers. It was the same handwriting, the same style that Zandik used to write in, but now it felt so dark now that you knew everything. It was begging you to come and join him, telling you to think of all the great things you could accomplish together, but his true nature disgusted you, it made you feel sick. You discarded the letter and didn’t even bother to write back.

You went on to live your life, graduate from the Akademiya, moving on to continue your medical research, and you did amazing things. You cured so many people, saved so many lives, found new ways to heal complex injuries and sickness. You weren’t in it for the fame or the fortune, just to help people, that is all you ever wanted. Of course, your research does not go unnoticed…

You remember the fire…

You remember the bright colors as your lab was ablaze…

The broken equipment…

The missing research…

Oh what a fool you were…

You were out one day, going to gather materials, leaving your house and lab unattended. You should have made better notice of the people you passed on the street that day, including the two Fatui agents walking pass you as you left your house.

You remember standing in front of your blazing house as people attempted to put out the flames. Your heart was shattered into a million tiny pieces as you watched your whole life go up in flames, literally.

You stayed with your friend for a few weeks, a friend from school, she was kind enough to let you stay with her. As you were cleaning up after dinner she came up to you, holding a letter. She told you she found it in the crack under the door, someone must have slipped it under there. You recognized the Fatui insignia as you ripped it open, your heart going a million miles per hour.

Meet me at our old study spot if you want your research back, bring nothing.

You burned with rage, you knew who it was from and you had a guess what would happen if you accepted and what would happen if you didn’t. You knew Dottore’s twisted nature and you would likely be stuck with him for the rest of your days if you accepted, and if you rejected you would be harassed by the Fatui and hunted down until you accepted. Your research was your life’s work, you couldn’t just give it up, so you set out like he asked, but on the way a small accident occurred. You ran into a young ex-Fatui solider who was literally running from the Fatui when you met him, . You had managed to use your dendro vision to hide the two of you in a tree while the Fatui passed. Once you were about to go your separate ways he somehow convinced you not to, probably because he was in the same situation you were in but with Capitano.

You learned that the ex-Fatui’s name was Julius, and he definitely was not fit to be a soldier with how kind and gentle he was. You two traveled around for quite sometime until you met a strange woman who you had come to know as the Historian, and she was not to different from the two of you. She introduced you to others like you two, and you all kept connections with one another but while they could find one another they couldn’t find the Historian again, it was like she hid herself. You and Julius set yourselves up with traveling Sumeru, with you trying to rebuild your research the best you can and Julius protecting you. You never went into cities, it could be to dangerous.

Then you heard of the kidnapping of one of your friends, Colombina’s darling, along with many of the others meeting you and Julius in Sumeru, telling you of everything that happened. You were being backed into a corner and archons know where the Historian is. So while everyone was sleeping at the campsite you went on a walk to clear your mind. You sat at the base of a statue of the seven, looking down at the dendro vision in your hands, wondering why you were given this, you didn’t feel wise, you felt like a fool. You didn’t even process the footsteps coming up from behind you

“Oh (Name)”

Your heart sank at that voice, and your blood run cold. The blue haired doctor came to walk in front of you, kneeling down to be on eye level with you, despite the mask he wore.

“You look so tired.”

His words of comfort reminded you of the man he used to be, almost making you forget of the monster he was that was right in front of you. A second longer and you might have broke down into her arms, crying and apologizing when none of this was your fault, but luckily someone calling your name snapped you out of your trance. You slapped him across the face, his mask falling to the ground revealing the thin scar covering bits of his face, parts of his forehead, nose, cheeks, it wasn’t terrifying or disturbing just purely shocking. Now the Zandik you knew was gone both in personality and appearance. But before the doctor could recover from your strike, a flaming arrow came, zipping right past you and striking the harbinger tight in the shoulder. You turned to see Julius, bow in hand, and pyro vision on his hip. He called put to you again and you didn’t waste a moment before you followed after your friend, running into the forest, a place where even a harbinger would have a hell of a time finding you.

…You were tired

…but you still have to run.

#yandere genshin x you #yandere genshin #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere dottore #yandere dottore x reader #dottore x reader

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historicity-was-already-taken · 4 months

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What I'm actually furious about, isn't just the anti-Semitism I've dealt with here.

What I'm furious at is the Israeli government and military. I am furious that they have the nerve to perpetrate war crimes while appropriating the memory of the 6 million. It makes me sick. It feels me with rage. It fills me with feelings of betrayal (those are complex and require deconstruction, discussed briefly below). How dare they massacre children, civilians, and fucking hospital patients; and how dare they do so while using the 6 million as a rhetorical shield?

The edgelord who left me a snide remark comparing the situation in Gaza to the Warsaw Ghetto wasn't the first person to make that comparison to me. It was actually the Palestinian woman who translated two major sources from Hebrew into English for me.

She was translating a biography of Tossia Altman when her three nephews and sister-in-law were murdered during the IDF action in Gaza. I asked her if she wanted to stop working on the project (with no impact on her fee for the project, of course; that's where about $4000 of the money y'all helped me raise went, fyi). The brand of Zionism practiced by Tossia and her comrades is very very different from the version embodied in Netanyahu, and it was those schools of Zionism which mostly died in the Holocaust (I said), but I would completely understand if the material was too triggering for her.

She said "I’m not sure about this triggering me, I think holocaust survivors and Gazans are on the same boat to tell you the truth. It could be an opportunity for me to actually fathom the full picture, in a way." And I haven't stopped thinking about it since.

I'm not going to post the rest of our conversation here, for what I hope are obvious reasons. And for concerned parties, this woman has been living away from Gaza for a very long time.

But this is why I'm so angry and emotional.

And I'm over here having these, frankly, very painful, personal feelings (if my posts over the last 4 months haven't made it clear, I spent my teen years in an extremely manipulative right wing Israel "education" program, and was raised surrounded by first and secondhand Holocaust trauma which inevitably impacted how my elders educated me about The Conflict none of which I was fully able to deconstruct until I became a Holocaust Historian in grad school). Especially with my knowledge of how SHITTILY Holocaust survivors were treated when they got to Palestine in the mid-1940s; of how fucking disgracefully Yad Vashem treated Rachel Auerbach and Yitzhak Zuckerman. Of the way the Jewish fighters actually died in the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising. I became a Holocaust historian because I am the great/granddaughter of survivors and I do this work because it's a fucking calling, not something that brings me joy. And the goddamn Israeli government, the government of a nation which likes to say it exists for all Jews (when it barely even represents the Jews who live there but that's a different conversation); the way that government manipulates and misuses that history to excuse their actions in Gaza make me fucking sick. And, as demonstrated by some of you actual fucking pieces of shit, puts Diasporic Jews in danger. (side thought: Does Netanyahu WANT to put Diasporic Jews in danger?? He knows how this fucking shit works, and I wouldn't be surprised if he WANTED Jews to feel deeply unsafe and respond to that by fleeing to Israel).

And WHILE I'm experiencing all of this and trying to keep it all together while writing the what may be the most important thing I've ever written in my career, you fucking [word I don't use out loud or in writing] come in here and to throw your anti-Semitic bullshit at me when I ask you to please not spew it at me via my (year old) fucking Holocaust Remembrance Day posts, and when I ask you to be fucking mindful of it in your political speech.

So let me make it fucking clear, as far as I am concerned there are 4 separate conversations at play rn.

1) October 7 was horrific, genocidal, and traumatizing for Jews on a global basis.

2) Israel is committing heinous war crimes in Gaza right now which, if its own military's statements are anything to go by, are actively genocidal.

3) You shouldn’t harass random Jewish people because you’re disgusted with Israeli governmental and military decisions and actions.

4) The Israeli government’s appropriation of Holocaust memory within its larger state building project doesn’t give you [collective: non-Jews] the right to abuse Jews for discussing and generally having feelings about the Holocaust.

And FRANKLY I think all those conversations are accurate and valid. I also don't think I'm obligated to tear my heart open give you all my intimate feelings because a bunch of pieces of shit on this site can't grasp points 3 and 4.

So fuck that right wing program I belonged to as a teen, fuck you fucking left wing anti-Semites who can's grasp that you're touting the ideologies of people who would have wanted you dead, and fuck the Israeli government for committing war crimes. fuck them for their ongoing abuse of palestinian civil and human rights, and fuck them for invoking the memory of the 6million while doing it.

I've fucking had it with that fucking State, I've had it with you goddamn Jew-haters, and I've had it with the Jewish ppl who might want to destroy my career upon seeing this post.

I am mad as HELL.

I'm not even saying my mental health break is over. I've just had a moment of clarity, my period is over, and I'm pissed as hell. i'm tired of policing myself to make the gentiles who hate me comfortable; and I'm tired of policing myself to make my coreligionists who'd destroy me for having these thoughts comfortable. and there are 122,000 if you, so i don't care if you're so fucking fragile that this post makes you hit the unfollow button.

tl;dr:

youtube

#historians are impacted by their work #shocker

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pinkaditty · 4 months

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How will the TWST characters react to you having to leave? (Pt 1)

summary: Crowley had finally lived up to his promise. You were going to go home. All he needed was around a month to get the mirror set up for your return. Your eventual departure made each of the TWST boys turn into a ticking time bomb.

a/n: okay. so. i watched a tiktok today on my fyp. and i was inspired. i wrote this in hours and grappled with whether or not i should post it bc... well, i have a lot of requests piled up...! but, in the end i decided, why not? its my blog and ill do what i want with it. not to worry though, i am still working on your asks, i promise. i won't post part two of this (even though it's already written) until i've done at least 2 more asks, so no worries! i do see your requests, and i am working on them!

cw: creepy behavior (kinda), drugging, manipulation, and angst. i think that's all!! mc is mentioned but has no pronouns nor physical attributes mentioned.

minors... are actually allowed to interact with this post specifically. i don't mind it this time. NOT THE REST OF MY BLOG THOUGH. MINORS THAT INTERACT WITH MY NSFW POSTS WILL BE BLOCKED. thanks!

HEARTSLABYUL:

Ace:

He really has a hard time with it. Like, a really, really hard time. Once news reaches him, he almost can’t handle it. The anxiety that the thoughts of your departure cause will eat him alive. It will eventually get so bad that it prevents him from living in the moment, or enjoying his time around you. He falls into a depression, losing motivation to go on, keep living, or keep having fun. The wind has been taken from his sails. His grades slip as the weeks pass, but he can’t be bothered to care. He won’t show up anywhere unless it’s where you are. Despite his inability to enjoy anything anymore, he still spends time with you because, somewhere in him, he hopes you will be too attached to leave. He won’t do anything to damage, destroy, or hide the mirror, but when it comes down to it, he will plead with you not to leave right in front of the mirror on the day you are to go. He will also look the other way, should it end up mysteriously disappearing or broken. He refuses to be the culprit, but he will do everything in his power to make you stay, so long as it’s within the rules. Even begging. Please don’t go. You’re not all he has, but you’re all he wants. Please don’t leave him.

Deuce:

Recognizes the importance of family and knows what it’s like to disappoint them or be separated from them. He doesn’t want that for you. But at the same time, he considers you family. The real question is whether he will put himself and his feelings for you first, or if he’ll put you and your feelings first. He grapples with this a lot. He’s not selfish, and has no desire to be, but he found himself wanting to be selfish with you. He wants to keep you around, at least for a little while longer. A month is not enough. Whenever he passes by the summoning room, and sees that dreaded mirror, a rage awakens in him. The urge to return to his old ways burns within him, and for a moment, he can see himself punching the mirror, shattering it to pieces, forever ruining the chance you have to return home. But then he imagines the despair you will feel, and he is left with an empty hole in his heart. Should that mirror end up missing or broken, he will do everything he can to help fix it or find it. He knows he must let you go, and he will, but he will not be happy about it. He will clench his fists and mumble goodbye and try to act like it is all right. It is not. It is not alright.

Riddle:

He also recognizes the importance of family, but to a lesser degree. Rather values friendship and found family more, which is what spurs his desire to keep you around. You were a part of his found family, the one he desires to keep. Sure, he had to get used to having you around, but you had grown on him a lot. Far more than he wished to admit. His heart breaks at the news. What was he going to do? He’s uptight. Can’t bring himself to break nor bend the rules, so he won’t. Instead he puts on a mask and slightly distances himself. He acts pleased for you, happy that you have a way to return home, at last. The thought of sabotaging you doesn’t even cross his mind, but should he find out you have been, he will help you. He knows what is best. Come the dreaded day, when he watches you walk away, his heart will crumble. He will spill enough tears to create a river. He will not beg you to stay. He will not convince you. He will not do anything to prevent you from going. But he will cling to the sleeves of his ceremonial robes and bawl quietly. Why did his found family have to leave him all over again?

Trey:

His heart just sort of… sinks. It doesn’t hit him immediately, the despair of you leaving, but it approaches. When he finds himself baking sweets, and thinks of you, it hits him. When he finds himself scoring well in class, and thinks of you, it hits him. When he’s hanging in the Heartslabyul common room, and thinks of you, it hits him. It hits him over and over and over again until he can’t do a single thing without somehow connecting it to you and thinking about your eventual departure. He starts to spiral internally, despite usually keeping a cool head. Just the thought of you leaving will have him grip his pen so hard it snaps, pouring far too much sugar into his sweets and staring down at the ruined mixture, staring up at the ceiling of his dorm at night wondering how time continues to pass. He’s so far gone, so out of it, yet no one else seems to notice because they’re all so wrapped up in their own heads. He won’t beg, he won’t cry, he won’t plead, he won’t break anything, so long as it’s someone else breaking the mirror. But if you leave, the blood may rush to his head and he may find himself fainting, the shock of it all finally reaching him. Is this what loss is? What it feels like?

Cater:

No. Oh god, no. Immediately his spiral starts. He already knew he shouldn’t have become attached to you, knowing that you would have to leave. But the longer you stayed, the more he opened up to you. And the more he opened up to you, the more he liked you. You were Ramshackle dorm’s Prefect, or more like “perfect” if you asked him. There was something so fitting about you to him, and having someone leave all over again… At this point, he should be used to it. But he’s not. He never will be. He knew opening up was a bad idea, he knew indulging himself in this friendship would lead to nothing but despair, he knew, he knew, he knew. The guilt and anger at betraying himself and the building feelings he harbored for you eat him alive at night, and haunt him during the day. However, should that mirror end up broken, he won’t exactly do anything about it. If it doesn’t break, of course, he puts on a brave face, acts like everything’s normal, but he’s so far in his own head he doesn’t even realize how clingy and attached he’s become. He will act normal to the end, even wave a final goodbye as you leave, and will return to Heartslabyul like nothing’s happened. When he’s alone, the tears come. He cries harder than he’s ever cried before. Everything’s back to normal, but now he realizes he never wants normal ever again. Every day, he misses your chaos. Why can’t you come back to him? You were perfect, not normal.

SAVANACLAW:

Leona:

To hell with rules. This herbivore may not have been his favorite at first, but it’s not quite like he can imagine a life without them now. Instead of fear or sadness, he feels anger and entitlement. He should be getting what he wants. He’s a prince, for seven’s sakes. He may not be any type of inherent heir, but he had his rights, and the way he saw it, that also gave him the ability to do whatever he pleased. It’s not like you even spoke about your past a lot anyway, or the world you came from. It didn’t matter more than him and his need to have you nearby. Nothing mattered more than that. He soon hatches a plan to try and destroy that mirror; either through breaking it with his fists or turning it to sand, he would do it, and he wouldn’t care if you knew it was him. As long as you were here, by his side. If all else fails, he will prevent you from even approaching that mirror. He won’t kidnap you, he’s not crazy, but he might just block your way or try to convince you to reconsider. If you remain hard-set, he may become angry, but the more stubborn you are, the more the despair will finally grip him. He may even break down and beg, hoping that the humility of a prince will force you to feel guilt and regret. He could never have cared for an herbivore this much, but it was you. He can’t let you go. And if you really do leave, he won’t sleep at all for weeks.

Ruggie:

Will 100% act nonchalant about it, but on the inside he’s freaking out. He immediately goes into hyperdrive, and will do anything and everything to get you off his mind. He studies until his mind melts, stays after classes for extra tutoring, idles in the cafeteria, hangs out with friends, and whatever else he can possibly think of doing that means he gets to avoid you and the thought of you leaving. May even go as far as starving himself so he can think of food and water instead of you. Of course, this all fails because no matter how much he denies you, he still sees you. He still knows you’re around. He caves at long last when he cannot ignore your presence any longer. He goes to see you all the time, to make up for time lost. Every minute he can spare, he’s with you. Doesn’t think of breaking the mirror, but won’t stop Leona if he tries. He’ll look the other way, because just as badly as you may want to go home… he wants you to be here with them. If you do end up leaving, his heart will be empty as he watches you go. He won’t so much as hug you, but wave a weak goodbye and wish you well. He crumples in the time that follows and is a hollow shell of who he once was. It could’ve been different. You could’ve stayed.

Jack:

He’s an upstanding character. He has a moral compass and knows what is best. He is also stubborn and hard to sway. That said, every single day of the month that leads up to your departure, he finds himself standing in front of that mirror for some time, contemplating. He could break it. Technically, he could. He could just punch it and no one would be able to pin it directly on him, at least not immediately. That way, you would be here. You would have to stay. It may not be the best outcome for you, but he could be a shoulder to rely on. However, he shakes his head to rid himself of such thoughts and ends up scampering away from the mirror, lest his thoughts get the best of him. Every time he lays down in bed, he tries to resist it, but then he finds he can’t sleep. So he creeps around to the summoning room, looks that mirror head on, and battles with himself. In the end, he does not break it. He has a hard time not doing it, but in the end, he knows what’s best. He will inevitably run into someone attempting to sabotage you, but he will be far too caught up deciding what to do to stop them. He will inevitably fail to stop a sabotage, but the guilt will claw at him, and he will do all he can do to help. Should you go, he will feel happy that you are returning home, but squeeze you very tight for a little longer than usual. The tears will come when he is alone, contemplating on that mirror, staring at his fists and imagining if they were bloody and stuck with glass. What would have changed?

OCTAVINELLE:

Azul:

Is as cool as ever externally, but freaking out internally. He tries to play it off to himself as being concerned about outstanding debts, or bemoaning about less free labor, or even worrying about what will happen to Ramshackle if he can’t get his hands on it when no one but Grim resides in it? Oh, the horror…! Or, so he tries to say. In reality, he actually can’t stand to see you go. Sure, it hadn’t been very long, but you’d been through quite a lot together, and you had become quite reliable. It was nice having someone he could depend on, trust in, and enjoy one another’s company without the looming threat of becoming disinteresting, like Jade and Floyd. He’d actually come to like you. Perhaps more than that. Before long, he stops moping and starts thinking of ways to get you to stay. He even enlists Jade and Floyd’s help, fully aware they already have their own tactics in mind. He doesn’t care what works, he just hopes something will. He scribbles up contracts, some that would be appealing to you, and give you more benefits than him, but in small fine print reads: “Upon signing this contract, the signer agrees to remain in Twisted Wonderland for as long as the contractor sees fit.” He makes so many that you feel guilty turning him down. It gets to the point where he is begging and pleading with you not to go through that mirror. Not to leave them all behind. If it all fails, he collapses as he watches you go. He returns to his office and rips those contracts to shreds. It was all for naught. All for naught. For the first time in his life, he feels as though he’s drowning.

Jade:

Oh, he cannot let this happen. He cannot simply let you leave. Not when he’s grown so fond of you! He’s not letting you leave him behind. He puts on a brave face, as though he’s self-assured, but in truth, he’s shattered. He feels hopeless. Of course he knew you had a home, but he did not expect you to leave, so soon, and so quickly. Maybe he didn’t want you to leave at all. No matter though, this could be fixed. When Azul entrusts him and Floyd with similar tasks, he can tell that Azul is just as desperate to keep you here. They work mostly independent, but as long as something works, none of them mind which one’s plan did the trick. Jade uses his signature spell on you to pry the truth from you. When he finds that even the smallest part of you does want to return, he finds himself sinking. He must stop this, he has to. A twisted idea is born and soon enacted on the day of, when he encourages you to have a final meal he’s prepared. When you finally collapse, he takes great care to ensure that you won’t make it. But, should you be found and carried to the summoning room, assuming you are in a deep sleep, it will have failed. No surprise will show on his face, and when you finally wake to leave, he will nod and smile, wishing you well. His hands are curled into fists and he is boiling with anger. His room will soon be trashed and he will be shaking with rage. This could have changed. It could have all changed.

Floyd:

Little Shrimpy? Leaving him behind? No way! He’s already pouty about this, but somehow he is assured that you won’t leave. As though he trusts that whatever plan he puts into action specifically will stop you. This is why he is the only one seemingly totally carefree. For everyone else, the stress shows somewhere: in their eyes, in their expressions, in their hands, in their jaw, in their movements, in their behaviors… somewhere. But for Floyd, it just can’t be found. He is 100% carefree and confident that you won’t leave him behind. He intends to make sure of that, no matter what he must do. Of course, he does pout for show around you, complaining about how you have to leave, and might even blubber about it to earn your sympathy. When Azul puts him and Jade up the task of making you stay, he’s elated because he already has the ball rolling. You have to stay - no ifs, ands, or buts about it! And he does his best to convince you. He earns your guilt and remorse in every way he can, even popping up at the most inconvenient times to hang out so you can turn him down and he can pretend to feel bad about it. He lets the guilt fester in your heart, playing the long game. At last, when he’s certain he has you under his thumb, he waits until the day you are to leave. As you are stepping towards the mirror, he grabs your arm, looking at you with false pleading eyes, and begs you to stay. He watches the turmoil boil in your eyes, and almost feels that he has won. But if you ultimately tell him you have to go, he will go blank. His face will lose all emotion, and he will let go. In the coldest voice ever, he will murmur his goodbyes. And some time later, when he’s swimming through the cold, deep sea to get his mind off of everything, he will wish he didn’t have gills. He will wish he couldn’t breathe. He will wish he could drown.

a/n: wowie this was soooooo much fun!!! i totes forgot how much i ADORE writing angst ouuuugghhh!!! best thing ever awaaaaaa!! anyways, i hope you all enjoyed! leave a like, comment, or just reblog if you liked it!! please tell me how much you enjoyed it, i love catering to you all! shameless bit that i do adore asks just as well, so if you come up with a request, my asks are open! thank you!

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doberbutts · 2 days

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Also just because I've been getting some harassing anons and replies on my post ever since that one self-identified Zionist blog got BIG MAD at me for posting the Palestinian flag (ironic considering like 3 days later when I reblogged something Jewish I had people then BIG MAD at me for that too.......)

Skoll, I took on knowing I would probably have to euthanize him for his aggression. From the very beginning the deal was that I was his last stop since he was a known abuse court case dog who was taken from his most recent owners and languishing in a kennel environment but deemed otherwise unadoptable due to severe aggression. The agreement was that I would have him for however long it would take to determine if he was fixable and then either I'd fix it and keep him or I'd euthanize. He bit me three separate times when we were still learning each other, and then attacked me randomly for the crime of petting his head, an act of affection he normally would approach me to request. I euthanized him at the advice of literally everyone involved with his case, and a few days after I euthanized him I got a letter from the state telling me either I put him down or animal control would take him and do it themselves. Pennsylvania is very strict on what they consider a mauling or a maiming and the resulting bite from his attack was very severe. I have had multiple people, including vets, neurologists, and behaviorists, tell me that they think he had rage, a seizure disorder which causes uncontrollable aggression, when I describe what his random bouts of attempting to attack literally the first thing he locked eyes on looked like.

Tiki, I rescued because I wanted a tiny dog and a dog that would live longer than a doberman, because dobe lifespans are hideously short due to their health problems. Within about 5 minutes of driving away with her, I realized she was very, very sick. We stopped at the vet before we even got her home. Over the next several months and constant ER visits we discovered she had hydrocephalus and also an immune condition that was slowly eating her lungs. She crashed during a procedure that was supposed to be our last attempt at fixing the lung problem as by then we knew the hydrocephalus would kill her anyway and we were trying to extend her life as long as possible. I dropped her off for the procedure, they called me on my way home, and I turned around so I could be there to say goodbye.

Creed died from cancer 🤷‍♂️ mast cell cancer is THE most common cancer in dogs as a species and it's a genuine coin toss if removing the initial tumor fixes it or if it's too late by the time you notice, because it forms on scar tissue so it hides by looking like a regular scar. Creed had a bunch of nicks and scrapes from running around in the woods on our hikes. One of the earliest scars he ever got is what killed him in the end. Losing him is what turned my blog from what it used to be, all dogs all the time, to what it is now. Ironically, he lived roughly the average lifespan for a doberman at 7.5 years old.

Phoebe, I was not involved in the decision to euthanize her. She came to me once again very sick, and I did my best to fix the problem, but it seemed to be a lot bigger than me or her other owner had expected. Her other owner took her to multiple specialists more local to her, and finally we came to a tentative diagnosis of a liver shunt. Her condition degraded rapidly and she went blind and began having seizures, and her other owner made the choice to say goodbye. Surgery was not an option due to her already bad condition not being certain she would actually survive anesthesia. I knew that she was not doing well, but I was not informed that she had died until several months later, despite my asking for updates because I suspected she'd passed. I don't disagree with the choice, I just wish I'd known when it happened. What we thought was just a chronic hookworm infestation and possible pancreatitus from the long-term damage from the hookworms turned out to be much more serious, and deadly, when it stopped responding to treatment.

If you have any questions on my capability as a dog owner to actually keep dogs alive, I'd like to direct you to the fact that Creed and my other actually-purchased-from-a-breeder dogs have lived good long lives. I keep getting sick dogs in rescue despite being told they are healthy, and that is exactly why I refuse to rescue dogs anymore. I'm tired of breaking my heart while cleaning up a problem someone else created. This is the part of rescue that doesn't get shared- what happens when someone loses the rescue lottery again and again and again with sick and mentally unwell dogs that are doomed to die before they've had a chance to truly live? I'm tired of being that someone. I'm tired of loving dogs and hemorrhaging money in a desperate attempt to fix them and feeling the weight of their bodies in my arms when that wasn't enough and they die anyway.

At least I can say Creed had a good fulfilled life as my constant companion, even if he didn't live nearly long enough compared to what I wanted.

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 5 months

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pt XI good omens season 1 finale I'M SORRY THIS IS LATE, I WAS READING FANFIC.

How is this a title I'm now forced to write. Yes, I know it's been a week since I finished episode 6 with you maggots. And today is the day we start season 2. However, I, the Official Good Omens Mascot, procrastinated writing part XI, because I was reading too much good omens fanfiction. Yesterday I do believe I was reading till 3 in the morning. Thanks guys.

Season 1 finale, or whatever I can figure out with my records of the watch along chat, at least. WAHOO.

[EDIT: I'm back at the intro after finishing this post, and I realised this is a very long summary, because most of it is me yelling at you guys. As I typed it I started reliving my rage of last week. Read on if you dare, yes the post is long, and yes the second half is in all caps. THIS TOOK EMOTION. YOU GUYS BETTER REBLOG IT INSTEAD OF LIKING IT SILENTLY WHILE LAUGHING AT MY PAIN. I WANT MY RAGE EVERYWHERE ON TUMBLR.]

Someone puts a message about how Crowley can no longer sense Aziraphale's presence, and again for some reason covers it with black. My reaction is of course horrified, and then everyone tells me to STOP CLICKING THE SPOILERS, ASMI.

So that's what that was. I realise this out loud, and everyone is ready to cry with exasperation. I explain to them very reasonably that while I don't read every message on the watch-along chat, every time there is a black message I assume it's important and I click on all of them to reveal the text.

Realising the spoiler function has backfired, as most things do with me, the chat sighs and everyone goes for a break. Then someone puts another blacked out message about the bookshop, and I react to that, leading to another blacked out message which simply says STOP CLICKING THE BLACK.

Oops, I already forgot. THE SPOILERS ARE JUST TOO CLICKY. CLICK CLICK CLICK. I HAVE TO CLICK ALL OF THEM.

Someone says I forgive you, Asmi. I reply with Don't bother, which leads to tears and threats to stab me. The chat maggots give up and we start episode 6.

There is a random flashforward. I don't understand what is happening, but then again, I never do.

Back at the airfield. Crowley walks in, recognises their hubby instantly, and takes charge sexily. Then the Bentley bursts into flames.

Crowley is heartbroken. No one comforts them. When I point this out (read, YELL IT AT THE CHAT IN DEVASTATION) someone tells me that this is how it always is.

APPARENTLY DAVID WAS TOLD TO THINK ABOUT THE TARDIS EXPLODING IN THAT MOMENT. I HATE THAT I KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS.

Crowley needs all the therapy. Someone says kinder fanfic authors give it to him. LIES, I point out, FIRST THEY GIVE HIM EVEN MORE REASON FOR THERAPY. THEN GIVE HIM THERAPY.

Everyone is yelling about a fanfic called demonology while Adam the Antichrist feels so weird at Aziraphale being inside someone that's not Crowley that he separates them in the First Bigeneration style. Doctor Who is inspired.

Aziraphale like the babygirl he is, tries to girlboss his way through the situation by making Crowley murder the kid.

Pepper FUCKING STABS WAR IN THE NAME OF FEMINISM WITH THE SWORD OF EDEN AND THEN OTHER TWO KIDS END THE OTHER HORSEPERSONS IN THE NAME OF HOMECOOKED MEALS AND ECOFRIENDLINESS AND WHAT THE FUCK THESE KIDS ARE TWELVE WHAT PERCY JACKSON LEVEL OF BADASSERY-

Crowley and Aziraphale give a half-assed attempt at a father-son (gn) talk with the Antichrist as the world is ending. It is a terrible contribution to saving the world. The Antichrist thankfully has inherent common sense, because he wasn't raised by them.

Aziraphale tries to overshare his and Crowley's meetcute and has to be shushed by an embarrassed Crowley who is trying to keep them alive.

Satan is supposed to arrive. I mistakenly assume Gabriel is actually Satan. Which pleases a lot of people.

Gabriel and Beezlebub talk and blame Crowley and Aziraphale (who contributed exactly JACK SHIT to averting the apocalypse).

I kind of ship Gabriel and Beezlebub after seeing them interact for 30 seconds, which for some fucking reason leads to a lot of reactions and yelling. I want them to be together. Which leads to more yelling. PLEASE TELL ME THIS IS NOT ACTUALLY CANON?

Satan arrives. Antichrist disowns him. Through the power of Manifestation, Law of Attraction and Positive Thinking, Adam is now no longer the Antichrist, Satan leaves, none of this happened and the BENTLEY AND BOOKSHOP ARE SAVED.

NO ONE IS FUCKING HUGGING CROWLEY. I'M GOING TO STAB A BITCH.

There is the bus stop scene Crowley asks Aziraphale to move in with him and they hold hands I DON'T FUCKING KNOW BY NOW THE CHAT HAS DESCENDED INTO CHAOS I'VE LOST MY BRAINCELLS.

ICE CREAM DATE AND SUDDEN INVASION AND I'M WATCHING THE ACTING AND I'M LIKE HANG ON A SECOND SOMETHING IS OFF AND I ASK SUDDENLY IF THEY SWITCHED.

THAT'S RIGHT, I ASK IF THEY SWITCHED. I KNEW THERE WAS A SWITCH AND I THOUGHT IT WAS MIDWAY THROUGH SEASON 2. BUT THE SIGNS ARE TOO MANY HERE. EVERYONE IS NOW YELLING AND PEOPLE KEEP IGNORING ME.

ALL THE ACTING IS FLIPPED I'M NOT BLIND YOU FUCKERS. AZIRAPHALE'S FACE IS DOING CROWLEY'S COULDNT-CARE-LESS EXPRESSION AND HE'S QUESTIONING HEAVEN AND CROWLEY'S TALKING HAS LESS CONSONANTS THAN USUAL AND NO CROWLEY SASS MORE AZIRAPHALE SASS IT'S THE SAME BACKGROUND AS THE NOSE-SCRUNCH SCENE AND SURELY THAT WAS AZIRAPHALE RIGHT.

EVERYONE KEEPS TELLING ME TO WAIT AND SEE. I KEEP YELLING THAT THEY MUST HAVE SWITCHED.

SOMEONE SAYS I'M EITHER A MADMAN OR A GENIUS. I TELL THEM I'M BOTH BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT DID THEY FUCKING SWITCH.

I'M NOW QUESTIONING MYSELF BECAUSE EVERYONE ISN'T LYING BUT THEY'RE MAKING ME QUESTION MY REALITY SO THE CLASSIC GASLIGHT GATEKEEP GIRLBOSSING.

I'M YELLING ABOUT HOW ONLY AZIRAPHALE WOULD BE POLITE ABOUT JACKETS AND SURVIVE HOLY WATER. EVERYONE IS LAUGHING AT ME. I'M NOW 60% SURE I'M WRONG.

PEOPLE KEEP YELLING WAIT AND SEE AND TALKING ABOUT SADIE AND DOTTIE I HATE IT HERE.

CROWLEY IS IN HEAVEN THAT WAS HIS DISMISSIVE LOOK I'M NOW 90% SURE I'M RIGHT. I'M YELLING ABOUT IT.

ADAM LEAVES THE GARDEN IN A METAPHOR AND THEN AZIRAPHALE AND CROWLEY SWITCHED BACK. THEY SWITCHED BACK. I WAS FUCKING RIGHT. I AM LIVID. I AM YELLING.

IT'S VERY EMOTIONAL AND NIGHTINGALES AND THEY TOAST THE WORLD AND I'M VERY EMOTIONAL BUT I'M COPING BY THREATENING MURDER BECAUSE I WAS FUCKING RIGHT.

THE END.

SEE YOU GUYS TODAY AT SEASON 2 I GUESS GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

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actual-changeling · 4 months

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this is some self-indulgent, directly post-divorce crowley angst, i am 100% responsible for any emotional damage this might (probably will) cause. enjoy.

CW for mild self harm mentions/descriptions, nothing graphic

His flat is dark when he returns.

It always was, and up until this very moment, it had never bothered him before; yet as he watches the door swing open, he feels a wave of apprehension. Even the metal underneath his fingertips has an unfamiliar chill to it. After driving for hours late into the night, his mind painfully numb, the Bentley eventually chose a well-known road and brought him back—well, 'home' is certainly one way of putting it.

It was never one to begin with, but now it is the only place he has left.

Some of the city's shine flows through the windows, but it is barely enough to move the shadows below them, let alone reach the hallway. Crowley presses his palm against the door frame and tries to remember how to breathe, grabbing his glasses with his free hand as he squeezes his eyes shut. When Shax took over, he had spent a week arguing with himself over whether or not to tell Aziraphale, slowly settling on a 'yes' with a growing spark of fearful excitement.

Until he remembered their conversation on the bench.

(I don't think my side would like that.)

Until he thought back to the bandstand, flicking through the years like a photo album and revisiting all the times he had asked for something, anything, and the answer he received.

(You go too fast for me, Crowley.)

No, it would have to come from Aziraphale, and maybe, he repeated to himself over and over whenever he decided to drop by, with just a little more time, he finally would. After saving the world, after escaping heaven and hell, after sitting in the Ritz for hours, Crowley dared to hope.

Four years later, he had long since realised his mistake.

(Nothing lasts forever.)

A crack rips him back to the present, dull pain attempting to separate the veil of numbness and failing, and he drops the crushed remains of glass and metal to the floor before stepping over it. The door quietly falls shut behind him, locks thoughtlessly click into place, and he distantly acknowledges the need for new security measures, not that he currently cares much about anything.

Let them come for him; he has nothing more to lose.

Sliding down the closest wall, he listens to the roughened surface scratching the fabric of his suit, finding that once he sits with his knees pulled against his chest, the physical place loses importance.

"Maybe it's not the dark," he whispers to himself, the thoughts thick and sluggish like honey in his mind. "Maybe it's not the dark, but the quiet."

His own words are haunting him, ringing in his ears and sticking to the back of his throat, and for a moment, he considers simply getting up and walking away. The earth is a graveyard of memories, London is a mass grave collapsing in on itself, and it's not like being anywhere else would change the fact that he was alone.

Alone.

The earth was empty, just like it had been when he sat in a burning bookshop.

Flames licking at his skin would be preferable to the ache underneath it, every cell remembering the fleeting press of warmth, of Aziraphale, his just for a handful of seconds. When he traces his lips with his fingertips, he catches a hint of copper, and it's ash and soot branding him despite his miraculously clean body, it's begging and asking and pleading, it's a mouth opening and the euphoric shiver that followed.

Love, fire, loss, the taste of blood lingering on his tongue no matter how much time passes, and if he weren't wrapping his arms around himself while curled up on the floor, he might have been able to tap back into his anger, the indignant rage Aziraphale's words woke within him.

The weight of the last week hits him all at once as the adrenaline in his body finally starts to fade, the pressure tightly constricting his lungs and forcing a choked gasp out of him. He rests his forehead on his knees, his palms seeking the grounding cold of the cement.

"No nightingales." Crowley scrapes his nails across the floor, the words barely audible even to himself. "Fucking idiot, I just had to hope again, didn't I? Too many fucking questions."

It's not the quiet either. It's not the dark or the empty halls, it's not a pristine, dusty bed or imperfect plants lining the windows. It's the fact that even now, he knows exactly what he will do, surrounded by everything he has after losing the one thing that actually mattered.

He will stay right here, and he hates himself for it, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip until salt explodes in his mouth, but it won't change.

Aziraphale has gone, so Crowley does what he always does—wait for him to come back.

#alex writes good omens #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #ineffable spouses #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #good omens ficlet

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