the most important step in the hero’s journey is the gay sex
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There's a level of Hell that Constantine loves and hates in equal measure.
The Level of Lust and Debauchery.
He loves it for what it is, but he also really, really hates it. The beings in it are unhinged at best, completely insane at worst. Stronger than Demons, but weaker than Gods-it's always more stressful than fun dealing with them.
So needing to summon the King of that level is...well. John can already feel the exhaustion.
But instead of exhaustion, he feel rage. Disgust.
The King that shimmers into existence is a fucking child.
And John honestly loses some time after that.
He comes back from ranting with the tiny King forcefully yanking him to a stop.
"Wait, you thought the Infinite Realms were what?"
Turns out, that wasn't the Level of Lust and Debauchery at all. Turns out, the Infinite Realms has a Red Light District.
Turns out, that is a very, very small part of the Infinite Realms, and this tiny child King had no idea it was there, and now he has to explain what a Red Light District is to an increasingly mortified Royal Teenager.
All around, it's not a fun time for anyone present.
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Playtime :]
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Can you write a fic were it’s reader asking Harry if he would still love her if she were a worm 😭😂 I just find it so hilarious
I wrote this in like 10 minutes. Hehe, it was fun! I'm so sorry it took me so long to respond to your ask. Hopefully you're still around and you like what I wrote for ya. Love you all 🩷
Sitting in bed, your phone in hand, you look over to the man beside you. He's sitting comfortably against the headboard, his tattoos canvased across his bare torso, and a book in hand. His bottom lip is pinched by his index finger and thumb, and his brow is furrowed in deep though as he absorbs the words on the page in front of him.
Your gaze flickers down to your phone for a moment, and you smile, trying hard not to giggle with the knowledge of what your plan is.
"Hey, H?" Your voice is quiet, and solemn, hoping you're letting off a more serious demeanor.
"Yes, love?" He responds, lowering his current read and turning his head over in your direction.
"Umm, well, I was just wondering..." You start off, wondering if your hesitation is persuasive. "Would you still love me... if I was a worm?"
"Why? Planning some major life change, are you?"
"Would you?"
"Look, when I said we should spend more time in the garden, I didn't mean-"
"Harry!" You giggle, unintentionally breaking the facade you were determined to hold up against his charm.
"Is this because I teased you about your dance moves yesterday? Because I think this is taking it a little too far." He smiles, twisting to face you and lifting his palms to squish them against your face. "You don't have to turn into a worm for me to love the way you wiggle..."
"Will you please answer the question."
"Well, I'd be very sad if you were a worm..." He replies, a mischievous smirk instantly digging into his cheek. "I don't want you to sleep in the dirt..."
"Oh, just forget it." You roll your eyes. Clearly he knows what you're trying to do, which means he's not going to give you a straight answer.
"Plus, if I was a bluebird..." He utters, pressing his lips gently against yours for a quick kiss. "It wouldn't turn out very well for you, little worm..."
"You're horrible." You pout, pushing away, turning your lamp off, scooting down, and pulling the covers right up under your chin. All in a false tantrum that he only chuckles at.
Harry slides over next to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and nuzzling his face into your neck.
"I'd rather us both be rabbits."
"What? Why rabbits?"
"So we can fuck like bunn-"
"Oh my god, Harry!"
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Beauty exists because life exists. Vibrant plants look best when they’re well taken care of. Fields of green and patches of grass look best when they’re watered regularly. You can tell when a pet is doing well, fed well, brushed and washed and loved. In people, someone’s kindness makes them more beautiful. Someone’s sense of humor. The snort when they laugh. The way they mispronounce certain words, their habits, their individuality. The color in their cheeks, the little scars and the stories behind them (fell off of a trampoline, thought I could swing without holding onto anything, my sister hit me with the remote because we were fighting over the remote—and the way they laugh or shake their head telling the story). Expressing their emotions. Being fragile and soft. Being loud and talkative. Beauty is so interesting because it goes farther than outward appearances, and sometimes even seems to affect it. I think, the more unapologetically alive you are, the more beautiful you are. The more you find beauty in other people, in the depths of them and not just the way they look, the more you’ll find it in yourself.
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Scar lies out under the moon. Mumbo and Grian have fallen asleep in their tents after a long campfire of heckling Mumbo about his middling ukulele skills and Grian about his even worse kazoo skills. (Scar would like to state that his own horn skills were perfect.) They'd planted flowers, they'd spied on the great big square of technology in front of them, and they'd discovered Grian is allergic to sand now, for some reason. It had been fun, and companionable, and not at all like the preamble for anything else.
Unfortunately, Scar has been here before.
On the other side.
And, okay, just because something rhymes with history doesn't mean it's the same thing, right? Unlike last time, this hadn't all started out with secrets and fun experiments and Grian getting unnecessarily miffed about a time machine he really shouldn't have had in the first place. Also, Mumbo is here. And Zedaph, apparently? Scar hasn't put together how Zedaph is involved but if Zedaph is involved it can't be the same concern at all--
--except. Well. It's Doc. And Scar's been on the other side of this before. Both sides. An expert on both sides. He's an expert on aliens now, too! Maybe time travel? Grian's probably more of an expert on time travel but after the whole Rift thing Scar's pretty sure if he asked Grian about it Grian would punch him and like, he'd deserve it, but it'd still hurt, you know? And...
Scar turns some of the lovely, perfect cherry blossom petals over in his hands. They're soft and smooth and also not actually the thing that ended up being a match for Doc at all, except for the trident thing.
Also, Scar still remembers the moon thing from last season. Gosh, between the moon and the Rift and whatever the aliens were Mumbo accidentally angered in season seven that made them all swap places for a bit and--not important. The important part of the moon thing is that Doc had been involved.
Scar doesn't. Hm. It's not that he doesn't trust Doc. He does! He super trusts Doc! He also super trusts Grian! They're his pals! His buddies! His comrades-in-arms! Also, Mumbo's here, and if that's not a trustworthy mustache, Scar doesn't know what is, and--
--and--
Scar has been on the other side of this before.
A dragon roars above the flagpole.
...it's probably fine. He's making up shadows to worry about. He didn't used to do that, you know! Probably didn't have as many shadows to be worried about, honestly, but hey, that's all a part of hanging out with his buddies! He'll just stay out here and sleep with one eye open and his bow by his side. He's ready to be a fool every night but the one it matters, right?
He licks his lips nervously and falls asleep thinking about the cyclical nature of stories.
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not even trying to be a hater but it is genuinely funny how a certain subset of f1blr are head over heels for vettel while actively hating on max like......... they r literally the same im afraid. you would have hated red bull seb! he was winning just as much as max while being way more of a little shit about it!
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•◦❥◦• MASTERLISTS •◦❥◦•
✿ series, ✮ one shots, ❆ drabbles, ✹ hc’s, ♡ fluff, ☾ angst, ♪ song fic, ✘ no comfort, ❦ requests, ♧ platonic.
✧ ongoing, ✦ completed, ✩ wips.
— carlos madrigal
♡✮ Wrong Side Of Heaven ✦
✿♡☾ Forbidden ✦
✿♡☾ Twins ✦
✿♡☾ His Muse ✦
✿♡♪☾ I Wish You Didn’t Love Me ✦
♡✮☾❦ Home For The Holidays ✦
♡✮❦ Let Me Show You ✦
♡✮☾❦ You’re Hurt ✦
♡✮❦ Started With A Prank ✦
✿♡☾ Bad Reputation ✦
✿♡☾ Tutor ✦
✿♡☾ Fake Date ✦
— camilo madrigal
✿♡☾ Marry Me ✦
♡✮ Nothing Special ✦
✿♡☾ The Quinceañera ✦
♧♡✮❦ I’ll Be There For You ✦
✿♡☾ Don’t Send Me Back ✦
♡✮ Baking Session ✦
♡✮❦ Sick ✦
♡✮☾❦ Don’t Leave Me ✦
♡✹❦ Curls Are Beautiful ✦
♡✮❦ Started With A Game ✦
✿♡ Secret Admirer ✦
✮♡♪ Marry That Girl ✦
✿♡☾ The Arrangement (on hold) ✧
— bruno madrigal
✿✘☾ Arranged Marriage ✦
✿♡ The Vision (on hold) ✦
— la familia madrigal
✿♧☾ Turn It Down ✦
— isabela madrigal
♡❆ The Language Of Flowers ✦
Taglists here !
OC Masterlist here !
Rules here !
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just published the (official) first fic in my batman AU about Edward before becoming The Riddler
( You can read it here )
thank you @hauntedpearl for betaing this fic!
I hope you have fun reading it !
tag list :
@zellergraham @gottaread2 @froot-of-the-vine @hyyyperfixated @aslightaddity @silentcutekitten @riddlekid @a-library-of-old
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naruto in that waterfall scene truly was like. the villagers have shunned me all my life and now they love me but its all fake cuz they just love me for what i have done to protect the village i HATE those fuckers, they can shove their autograph requests up their dumb asses and then he is like. well i got the solution. to solve all this hatred. to dissolve it and cure it. i'll just keep trying to become who they want me to be, if i manage to be the person THEY want me to be, they will love me and i'll keep their approval. this is the solution to all my problems ^_^ and then he like, hugs his dark self and it dissolves and the whole thing is done its like sfdfdgdgfs. okay, way to repress ur own feelings and do the exact same thing that youve already Been doing all ur life so far LOL. literally victim-blaming ur own self for what others have put u thru but alright. 👍
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So, you're telling me that the Robin Hobb that wrote this
— Kettle, Chapter 37 of Assassin's Quest
AND THIS
— Molly, Chapter 38 of Assassin's Quest
This Robin Hobb actually intended for Fitz and Molly to be end game????
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I crack up every time I see an archie post about the Chaotix
I’ve never read it but the snippets I’ve seen of these goofs always make my day
This is the type of nonsense that makes the Chaotix one of my favorite teams. In addition to being competent detectives and absolute forces in battle, their personalities create comedic beats that come so naturally and they seem like such a fun team to write
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hermit horror week day 1: season 8 or game mechanics
His teeth still taste like blood.
He's locked inside the belly of the Octagon. He doesn't know when he got there, but whoever wrestled him into it was smarter than Ren. They realized the full moon's light didn't reach the wiring. They realized it would give him time to down wolfsbane and silver nitrate. It also gave him time to throw it all up in the corner. If Doc were here, he'd be scolding Ren on the fact that silver nitrate is still a toxin and a disinfectant, and he should still be taking it in small doses, no matter how badly he wants to poison the wolf.
He curls up, shuddering, against the wires and pipes that power the shop. He feels thin and gaunt. He hopes he has not had much to eat. He doesn't have a phone or communicator on him. He doesn't know the day. It doesn't matter what the day is. The moon's visible during the daytime, too. It may have only been a night. It may have been weeks. It's probably at least been days.
He throws up again, because wolfsbane is poisonous too.
Most things that can keep a wolf down are poisonous. Ren doesn't have to take them often. He's normally... controlled. A tamed wolf on the full moon. He has a pack to run with. He doesn't need to poison himself to keep the wolf at bay. He doesn't need to take silver nitrate like it's a medicine and not a reagent.
But none of this is making his teeth stop tasting like blood. His shirt is covered in it, too. His legs. His face, he thinks--he can't see his reflection in here. He wouldn't know. But it would have to be. There's so much blood on him.
He doesn't have a scratch on him.
The only thing that stops him, then, from taking more silver nitrate is that if he respawns from the poison damage, he'll respawn out under the moon. He'll respawn back out there. And then--
He shudders. He folds himself into a tighter ball against the belly of the Octagon. In a shaking voice, he cries out for Doc again. Doc has to be nearby. Doc has to be nearby. Because if he isn't--
No one answers. Ren doesn't know who locked him in here. He wonders if it was a struggle.
He's covered in blood.
It smells horribly good. Ren feels dizzy. He's gaunt. He's so hungry. He'll hold that to his chest. He's hungry and sick, not simply sick. If he weren't hungry--if he weren't hungry--
But he's not as hungry as he should be, if it's been days, and he's covered in blood, and he resists the urge to howl, a long, mournful thing. He doesn't want to howl, or bark, or anything else right now.
Instead he cries, a human thing, and holds onto it tightly while he waits for the pain in his stomach and the shudders over his skin and the grey stains where he'd grabbed the bottle and the vomiting to end, so he can take another dose, and force the wolf further down. Down enough to be safe.
Down enough that he didn't maul his friends to death.
Down enough that he can know if he did.
Down enough that he won't try to leave again, as he knows he will, as the moon shines outside, and as soon as someone tries to open the door to rescue him, letting that light back in.
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