#tumblr gonna destroy the size of these | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Premium Tumblr themes are available from anywhere between $9 to $49.

#tumblr gonna destroy the size of these

cowboydisaster · 8 months

Note

could you write a fic about simon and a reader who is going through withdrawals? Sorry if that's not real specific, you can take it in what ever direction you please. Thank you

Hope

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem! reader word count: 2k summary: Simon helps you get through withdrawals, offering you hope in the darkest point of your life. a/n: heed the warnings please!!!! I cried a good bit while writing this. You're never alone my friends, and there is always hope. Always. (p.s. there is a mention of wanting children in this fic, so keep that in mind. p.p.s why does tumblr destroy my image quality, it makes me sad.) warnings: opioid addiction, withdrawals, addiction, emetophobia, illness masterlist

"Si-Simon, I can't do this. I'm n-not strong enough." You whimper, clammy hands gripping onto his shirt with every pathetic ounce of strength that you can muster. Your voice is hoarse, throat thick with mucus and body covered in a stale cold sweat that soaks through your oversized t-shirt. Simon has never seen you so weak, so frail in his arms.

He's seen you take down men twice your size, clear rooms with more than ten enemies. You've faced countless opponents, broken through endless physical and mental barriers, but in the end, the one thing you couldn't defeat was the pills.

If you'd known you were trading your life away when you were handed the bottle, you never would have taken it in the first place.

"For the pain." The doctor had said, "Just until this gunshot wound clears up."

Only it didn't. Before you even realized it, your body was already addicted. You craved the numbness that the damned capsules gave you, the release from the endless pain that singed your nerves day and night. You couldn't give them up. You tried– but the sickness that came when you stopped– you were sure it would kill you.

Simon didn't know what to do. You lied, you kept him at a distance, never fully explaining to him what was going on. He didn't realize how bad it was. He tried not to pry, or to push you, but Simon put his foot down when he found you on the bathroom floor unconscious, a bottle of pills on the counter, half empty. His words reverberated in your ears, a harsh warning that he wouldn't watch you kill yourself.

"You have to get clean, Y/N." He'd said from a place of love, but you couldn't help but crumble under his judgment, "I can't watch you do this to yourself anymore. You 'ave to sober up."

So here you are, a heap in Simon's lap, the both of you intertwined on the bathroom floor as you fight the overwhelming illness that accompanies withdrawals. Everything you've survived: loss, wounds, torture– it pales in comparison to the misery you're experiencing now. You refused to go to a detox center, not wanting to lose your position in the Task Force. You promised Simon that you'd let him drive you to the hospital if things got bad, but you want to do this at home.

Bile rises from your stomach, lingering in the back of your throat as you gag. Immediately, Simon pulls your hair back into his fist, and helps to position you over the toilet.

You dry heave, gagging on air as both of your cold hands grip the toilet bowl. Your wedding band glints in the dim bathroom light, bringing another layer of anguish to your already broken soul.

He shouldn't have to deal with this.

"Easy, love. Get it all out. I've got you." Simon coos as your stomach aches and flips, desperate to rid itself of any contents. Only you haven't been able to eat, so nothing comes up but painful bursts of air. You gasp and heave, collapsing back against Simon and erupting into loud sobs. Your bones ache as you fall onto his chest, and his hands hover over your form, unsure on how to hold you without shattering you even further.

"I can't– I can't! Simon, please! Please. I'm going to die. M' gonna die–" You panic, "I'm not strong enough. You know that I'm not." You plead, begging for the substance that he has already flushed down the drain, your mind refuses to believe that it's actually gone.

Simon's previously unbreakable heart manages to crack, and he wishes more than anything to carry the burden of your suffering. You're his wife, and it's his job to take the weight off your shoulders, but he can't do this for you. He can, however, be with you every step of the way. You showed him a new way of living, a way to do more than just survive. You've shown him love when he was undeserving of it. It's unbearable for him to see you, such a beam of light, in so much pain.

"Look at me, baby. Look at me." Simon holds your face until your eyes meet his. Those chestnut colored irises hold your attention– the same ones you looked into as you read your vows, as you suffered pain, and loss, felt love and lust. They've watched after you through everything.

"You can do this, yeah? You're the strongest person I know. Stronger than any other soldier in the Task Force, stronger than me. If anyone can beat this, it's you." Simon reassures.

Your face crumples when you realize he's firm in his decision. You shake your head, clammy palms coming to rest against your face.

"Please, Simon." You beg once again. Your body is trembling like a leaf held against the wind, cold wraps around your bones suffocatingly, squeezing every ounce of comfort from your being and leaving you high and dry. Pure, unadulterated suffering.

"Come 'ere." Simon whispers, standing up from the tile floor and scooping you into his arms. He hooks his arms under your head and knees before carrying you into the bedroom.

The soft bed dips under your shared weight as Simon lays down with you, his body wrapping around your own like a perfect puzzle piece. He pulls your back to his chest, letting you use his tattooed arm as a pillow. Your sobs quiet down to muffled whimpers as you shake lightly, wishing you could go back in time, solve this before it became a problem.

Father time has never been merciful though, has he?

"Blanket or no?" Simon asks. You nod your head quickly.

"Yes, it's so cold. I'm so cold." Your teeth chatter lightly as you reiterate. Simon pulls the thick comforter over your forms, tucking it in around the edges as he adjusts behind you.

An hour ago you were burning up, stripping off your clothes and sobbing at the heat clawing its way through your body like some sort of fiery plague. He'd put you in a cool bath, checking your temperature probably more often than what was necessary.

You shake and writhe, whimpers and groans of agony slipping past your lips every once in a while. It's killing Simon to see you like this. Every ounce of light has drained from your eyes, the life has seeped from your pores, replaced with the lingering disease of addiction. He misses your laughter, your smile. It could light up a room. You've gotten the boys through many dark days. You were the sunshine of the Task Force. Failed missions, loss, heartache, no matter how bad things got, your optimism never ceased. Not until recently, anyhow.

"We'll get there again." Simon tells himself like a mantra in his head,"She'll get better."

He's personally seeing that you do. He won't allow you the pills to take hold of you, he'll fight. He's seen more soldiers die from pills than bullets. He won't let you meet that fate, he won't.

He can't lose you.

The room is covered with a calm silence, only the sound of your quick breathing to let him know you're still alive. Simon is quiet as well, and you drown in the silence, hoping for any kind of distraction to pull you away from your unending misery. You can feel yourself giving up, wanting nothing more than to slip into old habits. You slip your eyes shut, opening them only once a voice rumbles in your ear.

"I was thinking… when you're better we'll get a bigger house." Simon quietly blurts out from behind you.

A wrinkle forms in between your brows, and you crane your neck to look at him. You're sure he's trying to distract you, coming up with random conversation to keep your mind off of the present. When you look back, his gaze is far away, fixed on something on the far wall. A small smile graces his uncovered lips– he's been keeping the mask off at home recently, you've noticed. There is a light in his eyes, a light that you used to think would never grace the eyes of Simon Riley.

"What? Why would we need a bigger house?" You ask with a small chuckle. He's succeeding in his distraction, you realize.

His eyes flicker down to yours, hand gripping onto your waist as you turn towards him in curiosity. Your eyelids are heavy, another wave of exhaustion coming over you.

"For the little ones." Simon responds.

He says it on a breath. He says it so plainly, so effortlessly, that tears immediately well in your eyes. He's never responded to your questions about children– usually shutting down or ignoring the topic wholly. Your lip wobbles, and he runs his thumb over the cracked skin.

"Ch-children?" You ask, a new sense of hope filling your being. A new reason to fight– to get clean. Children. A family.

"A girl, with your eyes…" Simon chuckles, "Probably with your attitude too."

You laugh at that, tears slipping down your cheeks in landing on his hand that cups your face.

"Maybe a boy. Hopefully he gets your features n' not my ugly mug." Simon huffs.

"What changed…?" You ask, wincing as a wave of nausea pulses through your body. Simon's eyes go wide for a second, and his grip tightens on you, ready in an instant to carry you back into the bathroom if you need. The pain passes and you shake your head, signaling that you're okay. Immediately, he relaxes. It's quiet for a moment as Simon traces his thumb over your paper thin skin.

"A dog, a new house, babies, anything you want. I'll give you anything you want, just get better for me, baby." Simon pleads, a hint of vulnerability tracing his words. It's one of only a few times he's begged you.

"I don't want a future without you in it. I want my wife. I want our kids terrorizing the place, I want to get old and retire the Force with you. Hell, I'd turn in my letter of resignation today if you asked, just please, fight for me, love."

The tears are falling freely now, you don't try to stop them. Guilt fills your being at the realization of everything you've put your husband through for the past few months. Through it all, he's never left your side. He's still here. Kissing closed your wounds, and promising to plant flowers in their place.

A soft kiss is pressed to your forehead before amber eyes peek down at you through blonde eyelashes. You chew on your lip, a bad habit.

Your resolve is set, and even though your body shrieks for the opposite, you'll get through this. You have to.

You have Sunday mornings to look forward to, lazily pouring Simon a cup of tea in his favorite mug. You have a house to buy, with two bedrooms instead of one. Dragging Simon through the shops and picking out all the different onesies he'll let you bring home. You have walks through the park to go on. You have to pick up takeout on Simon's late nights at work. You have to sit on his desk while you share an entree and talk to him until he forgets about the paperwork he's supposed to be doing. So many little actions to go through, little memories to make. You can't give it up. You won't.

There is so much to fight for, so much to hope for, all given to you by the man before you. Tears sting your eyes again as you finally speak up.

"I promise you, Simon. I'll fight. For us, I will."

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon riley #cod x reader #cod x y/n #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #ghost call of duty #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #cod mw22 #cod mw x reader

393 notes · View notes

eoieopda · 1 year

Text

menace (pjm) — pt. ii

“Be careful with that lip,” he warned in a thick voice dropped low, “Pout like that again, and I might bite it.”

Pairing: Park Jimin x Kim!Reader Type: 2/6 (Mini Series) ⇢ Previous Chapter | Masterlist Word Count: 6.5K Content: (General) Seokjin’s younger sister AU; fuck buddies that hate each other; reader is AFAB & queer; surprise cameo by my current dream girl. (SMUT | 18+) this part is written in sort of an omniscient POV; brat-tamer!Jimin & brat!Reader; oral sex (m); manhandling; spanking; slight degradation & spit kink; unprotected sex (p in v); safe word in place (unused). A/N: Absolutely re-worked a shit ton of this part after “Smoke Sprite” dropped because I needed this cameo to happen 😵‍💫 I'm gonna put the tags in the comments this time because Tumblr has been shitty about them lately, lol.

Immediately after Jimin left you in that green room, dangling off a ledge, you did your best to bury that blush on your cheeks in pressed powder. The lip balm he was wearing when he kissed your temple caused that powder to cling where you didn’t want it, and it left you with two options:

You could uproot the flawless base you’d created prior to his unwelcome arrival, spend time you didn’t have destroying evidence. Alternatively, you could pretend not to notice the faint lip print shining in a shade just slightly darker than the rest of your face. Even if it was more or less invisible to the naked eye, it was a flashing, neon sign to you.

And just like that, his unanticipated crumb of affection made sense. So, you grabbed a makeup wipe from the travel-sized package you brought with you and set back to work.

That motherfucker.

When you’d gathered yourself to the best of your ability, you glanced in the mirror. Still a bit flushed, still a bit shaky, but still deadly. Any other loner you'd run into wouldn’t stand a chance; and though your primary goal was paying off the orgasm debt Jimin had defaulted on, it didn’t hurt to consider how far up a wall it would drive him to watch you weigh your options.

You wouldn’t chalk it up to jealousy, the way Jimin reacted when he saw you convert strangers into acolytes. From where you were standing, that telltale clench of his jaw wasn’t precipitated by your habit of looking at anyone but him. More than anything, his problem likely had to do with the fact that it was you people were staring at — not him. The name of the game was desirability, after all; and Jimin seemed to really fucking hate it whenever you pulled ahead — collected more merit badges in the form of phone numbers.

Of course, he might not have hated it as much if you didn’t love rubbing his nose in it to the extent you did.

Upon walking out into the club’s private bar, the first face you caught sight of was that of your brother. Judging by the way he was sputtering, Seokjin was witnessing your weather-inappropriate outfit for the first time — and he was not handling it well. You rolled your eyes, refusing to give him and the burnt-red tips of his ears a second glance. If you did, he’d be launching himself over bar stools to force you into his winter coat.

Worse, knowing how reactionary he was when it came to you, it was safe to assume that he’d enucleate every wandering eye he found fixated on you. That wouldn’t bode well for the stranger seated at the center of the bar, whose whiskey-warm gaze in your direction was an invitation in and of itself.

Coincidence or kismet, it didn’t matter — the only open spot at the bar happened to be right next to her, whoever she was. She grabbed her clutch off the bar top in front of that unoccupied stool as soon as she saw you headed her way. Despite the distance, you could see the smirk working its way across her lips; and the nearly imperceptible dimple she’d unearthed in doing so.

Target acquired.

When you finally reached her, it was difficult to tell whether the slight tremble in your knees was due to the discomfort of your heels, or the sharp cut of her jaw jutting out beyond the razored edge of her hair. Pretending that it was neither, rather than both, you gestured to the open seat with a coquettish smile, “Saving this for someone?”

The stranger’s voice was deeper than you expected from someone as petite; it left your whole hopeless body vibrating.

“My Valentine,” she said with a dreamy sigh, and it sounded like a song. Mirroring the movement of your finger, she pointed nonchalantly to the stool, silently telling you to claim it. “Lucky for me, I think I found them.”

“Lucky for them,” you corrected, sliding into your seat and title simultaneously. Now with your elbow resting against the bar, you propped your chin up on the heel of your hand and narrowed your eyes thoughtfully. “If only they knew your name.”

The same finger that guided you to your spot raised to flag down the bartender. What else can it do? Killing two birds with one stone, she told the bartender which tab to put your drink on: “Hwang Soyoon —”

“Someak, please.”

“— but naekko works, too.”

It might’ve been the cheesiest line you’d ever heard, but goddamn, was it effective. You accepted your drink with a quick bow of your head, then even more quickly, you took a swig to calm the heat threatening to burn through your cheeks. Once the butterflies in your stomach were sufficiently drowned in alcohol, you set your glass back down on a coaster and picked up Soyoon’s hand in its place.

“You this smooth on the dance floor?” you asked as you tilted your head in the direction of your destination.

In lieu of a verbal response, she got to her feet and, with another smirk, she helped you to yours.

Two drinks and no small amount of shameless, wholly observable flirting later, you and your prize stumbled off the dance floor to reclaim your seats at the bar. Soyoon’s arm likely would’ve remained draped around your shoulders whether your heels hurt or not; but you had no qualms about playing it up, playing right into her hands.

Tragically, with you deposited safely on a bar stool, Soyoon’s hands slipped away — but not before her fingertips slid slowly down the length of your spine, leaving you to tingle hopelessly in her wake. Oh, for fuck’s sake, was it really that easy to get to you?

She ducked down and came in close so you could hear her over the music. “I’m headed for the restroom,” she said, “Don’t run away, yeah?”

Eyes wide and twinkling, you nodded obediently — albeit more enthusiastically than you wanted to let on — and you felt a small crack form in your nonchalant façade. Never were much good with a poker face, huh? Unable to cover it, the corners of your mouth automatically curved downward as she turned away. They didn’t stay there for long.

Several meters away, now unobstructed without Soyoon in front of you, stood Park Jimin. To put it mildly, he was incensed, angst radiating off of him like a smoke signal. His stony gaze pinned you where you sat; and those eyes narrowed further, flashing a shade darker when you raised both middle fingers. They were near to black when you used those neatly manicured fingertips to push the corners of your mouth into a shit-eating grin.

“Smile, fucker!” You mouthed.

Jimin, now positively glowering, held up his own middle fingers in response. This time, he didn’t imitate your smug antics. The look on his face was a bullet, hitting you hard in the chest and causing your body to clench on instinct, and your stomach to flip with anticipation. Oh, you were going to get it for this.

So, you figured, why not push that thorn a little further into his side?

Without stopping to think twice, you rose again to your feet. God, these fucking heels. You swallowed down the pain emanating from the balls of your feet and strutted up to him like it didn’t ache to do so. Unfortunately, none of the heads you turned in the process would suffice.

By the time you were halfway to his small, circular table, Jimin had already looked away. Drink held up to his lips, he sipped and stared coolly off into the crowd. Like you weren’t there, like you weren’t worthy of ongoing attention.

Liar.

He continued looking everywhere else when you slipped in beside him — when you flicked your hair over your shoulder and grazed his in the process — when you failed to conceal the pout beginning to form on your face.

This motherfucker.

Even as you glared up at him, Jimin ignored you. With a huff, you crossed your arms over your chest and shifted your weight from one leg to the other.

You played this game with him constantly but in reverse, allowing him to feel like he was invisible, like you couldn’t be bothered to register his presence. With that ego of his, you knew it stung — and you knew exactly how childish it was to hate the taste of your own medicine.

“You know, it’s rude to leer,” you breezed, “Worse, the optics are a bit… predatory, don’t you think? Weird, lone male shooting daggers at a couple of sapphics?”

He took another sip of his drink, set the glass down, and tilted his head to flutter his eyelashes at you. His tone was dripping in feigned innocence when he replied, “Would the optics be better if I left a pretty girl alone at a bar? What if I did it just to throw myself at someone else?”

You didn’t know why you felt the need to defend yourself, but you did; rushing headlong, right into the pitfall, “I didn’t leave anyone — she went to the restroom.”

Jimin smirked and nodded once over your shoulder, “Well, she’s back now.”

You quickly turned your head to see what he did: Soyoon rolling her eyes while you froze and Jimin waved at her with a frighteningly accurate imitation of friendliness. She was gone again in the blink of an eye, slipping off towards the door, before you could even dream of catching up to her.

Shit. Why were you like this?

“Poor baby,” he cooed with the world’s most patronizing frown. “Gonna pout some more?”

Already cutting your losses, you plastered on a saccharine smile, “Of course not.” Your fingertips whispered over his forearm as you leaned into his ear. With a voice that dripped dark and sweet like honey, you quoted him and watched his pupils blow, “I’m going to make you cry.”

Jimin grabbed his glass and tossed back the liquor that remained without flinching. Then, he leaned down, lips damn near touching your ear, and snapped, “Get your shit and meet me outside in ten minutes. If you’re late, you’re walking.”

You exhaled a laugh through your nose and raised an eyebrow, “Who said I wanted to leave with you?”

With how closely he was standing to you, Jimin had completely shielded you from the throng of people standing nearby. Cloaked in low light, his hand ducked under the hem of your dress so he could scrape his thumb nail over the spot he’d marked earlier with your own wetness.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he whispered darkly with eyes fixated on your mouth. He licked his lips, then emphasized each word: “Ten — minutes.”

Jimin disappeared and left you to stand there with a wildfire tearing through your insides. You waited until you knew he was gone to let go of the breath you’d unintentionally been holding, now a shaky gasp that died as soon as it hit the air.

It took you less than three minutes to race off to the green room and gather your coat, purse, and regrettably large makeup bag. Despite that fact, you made a point to stand a few meters from the club’s exit for what remained of your ten minutes. You stared down at your watch, still aflame, and watched the seconds tick by; smirking as you allowed one extra minute to slip away.

Eleven minutes after you’d parted ways, you slipped past Seokjin and out the back door to find Jimin leaning impatiently against his car with his arms crossed.

“Brave of you,” His tone was light, but his eyes were anything but. “You gonna be like this all night?”

You cocked your head to the side the way he’d done earlier. “I’m not sure what you mean, Park,” you said with your blinking eyes sweet enough to cause a cavity. “You gonna stand there, or are you gonna help me with these?”

He watched you raise your encumbered hands like your cosmetics were made of bricks, and let out a long-suffering groan. Jimin knew you were full of shit; you were the last person who ever needed — or wanted — his help. You were just an unmitigated pain in his ass, always. But he clearly had places to be and people to ruin, and your brattish behavior was once again interfering with well-laid plans.

When he crossed over to you, his footsteps kicked up a cloud of dirt that swirled in weak pirouettes around his ankles. In no time at all, he grabbed the bags you pretended to struggle with and carried them just as easily as you could’ve, if you deigned to lift a finger. He shot you a look that broadcasted: I’m only doing this to get your ass moving.

You giggled meanly as he dealt with your burden and sauntered off to the front seat of his SUV. It took a bit of effort to balance yourself on your fucking heels as you slid onto to leather, but you were immediately grateful to be off your feet again. Once you’d settled, you glanced down and realized how far the hem of your dress had shifted in the process.

In any other circumstance, you’d fix it, cover the dangerous expanse of your exposed, upper thigh. Now, though, you opted not to do a damn thing about it. Instead, you did what came naturally: you made it worse.

With a contented sigh, you kicked off your pumps and rested your feet on his dashboard, bare legs stretched out ahead until they crossed at the ankles. If your brother were here, he’d tell you that you were being rude; and in anyone else’s car, Seokjin would be right. Still, you knew it ate at Jimin whenever you did whatever improper thing you wanted.

You knew the way his cock twitched when he watched you not give a fuck; when you suckered him into doing menial tasks, like tucking your belongings into the backseat of his car. He’d never say so and you’d never ask, but there was no other explanation you could think of for why he gave in. Punctuating your thought, he slammed the back door and made his way to the driver’s seat.

Jimin slid into the spot next to you and immediately clocked the way the skirt of your dress had hitched up. He stared for a moment longer than he likely meant to, then his eyes trailed down your legs to find your bare feet resting on his dashboard.

“Were you raised by wolves?” He waved his hand at your legs with annoyance that only grew alongside your smirk. “Seriously, you’re a fucking animal.”

You let your head roll to your shoulder as you leaned over the center console. “Oh, you cut me, Park.” You teased and poked out your bottom lip out in a put-upon pout.

Adding injury to insult, you threw your hand up to your forehead in your best imitation of his usual theatrics — then, you let it drop. The back of your hand collided with his bicep as it fell; and it remained there long enough for him to reach out and grab it. His fingers encircled your wrist easily, doubling over and gripping hard.

“Be careful with that lip,” he warned in a thick voice dropped low, “Pout like that again, and I might bite it.”

You raised an eyebrow, silently daring him to try. To the contrary, Jimin let go of your wrist and pushed your hand off him so he could slide the key into the ignition. The engine sputtered without turning over, leaving you to wonder if it was going to start at all.

He scoffed, “See? Told you that if you weren’t here in ten minutes, you’d be walking.”

To both of your surprise, you exhaled a laugh — a genuine one, no less — at his little joke. It caught him off guard and caused him to chuckle, too, for just a moment before he stopped abruptly and muttered, “Shut up. I’m concentrating.”

“Like I’ve never heard you say that before.”

You rolled your eyes and then your neck to lean your head against the seat rest. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him shoot you an indignant look; but as usual, you ignored it. “Should I just leave then?”

When his exasperation briefly flickered over to confusion, you gestured out the window to a taxi parked nearby. If you ditched him now, you’d be home in five minutes instead of however long this was going to take.

“Patience,” Jimin growled as he wiggled the key and turned it again. “If you could — just once — stop bitching and wait —” The engine roared to life with one last turn of the key. “— you could wipe that miserable look off your face.”

You turned in your seat, genuinely offended, as he pulled out onto the street. “I look miserable?” You laughed hotly, “You look like a kicked puppy every time I see you.”

Jimin’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly enough to turn his knuckles white. “Did you ever think about the timing of that?” He fired back. “You think it’s a coincidence that I look like this whenever I’m confronted with that?”

He didn’t take his eyes off the road, but he did remove one hand to point it right at your face, which featured wild eyes and gritted teeth.

“I swear to God, it’s like you were designed in a lab somewhere for the sole purpose of sapping my will to live. How the fuck else does a person end up being this much of a nightmare?” Jimin was nearly shouting now. As his voice raised, so did your heart rate — so did your chest as you heaved forceful, angry breaths.

Though the heat of your seething bodies was starting to steam up the windows, you could still see the shadow of your tiny house approaching quickly from the middle distance. Throwing your arm out, you pointed to the driveway he was about to rocket past and snarled, “Fucking brake!”

Jimin begrudgingly did as you said. Your bodies both lurched forwards. Your seat belt gripped you the same way his arm had earlier, but when you crashed backwards, your back was flush to your seat instead of his chest. Just as suddenly as he’s braked, he whipped his car into your driveway and came dangerously close to your garage door before throwing the gear shift to park.

“You absolute fucking menace!” You smacked his bicep again, harder now, “Are you trying to forfeit my security deposit? Why don’t you just open my wallet a burn every won you find?”

With a grunt, you threw off your seat belt and let the end of it smack against the plastic molding as it returned to its resting place. He did the same, in the same manner you had, but went ahead to criticize you for your roughness.

“I only give a shit about the dents you’re so dead-set on making in my car,” Jimin spat. Turning abruptly to you, his hand darted out, dipped under your left leg, and prompted you to pull your feet down from his dashboard. “Your rental means dick to me.”

You rolled your eyes for the hundredth time that night as you slipped out of your seat, grabbed your heels, and slammed his passenger door shut behind you. Shoving your clenched fist into your coat pocket, you gripped your keys and pulled them out as if you were wielding a knife. Rage still simmering, you stomped barefoot up to your doorstep just to fumble with the lock on your front door.

As you struggled, the key slipped from your fingers and clattered down against the concrete patch below. That pin dropped from the grenade and exploded through the quiet. As you stared down dejectedly at it, your tiny growl came out like a whine.

Before you could snatch it off the ground, Jimin swooped in. “Give it here, crybaby,” he said while shooting you an exasperated look. With ease, he jammed the key into the lock, turned it, and shoved the door open.

The inner doorknob smashed against the wall of your foyer, and you rounded on him immediately. Jimin raised one finger in your face, and it stopped your shout before it could fly out at him. He stared straight ahead of him, positively seething, “If you mention your security deposit again, I’ll lose my goddamn mind.”

Beyond fed up, you huffed once more and stomped off over the threshold. You didn’t give a shit if he followed you.

As you tore down the hallway to your bedroom, you didn’t bother switching on any of the lights you passed. You were too busy throwing down your shoes and wrestling out of your jacket; leaving a trail of outerwear behind you as you went. Entirely incapable of caring that you’d created an obstacle course for the boy mere steps away.

Jimin staggered along after you, dodging the various items of clothing you’d left scattered across the hardwood. His jacket and shoes clattered to the ground on top of yours, thudding heavy like his pulse in his ears. Twin tornados as usual, you left a path of total destruction in your wake — every single time.

When he finally reached your bedroom, Jimin was panting. You were sitting and seething on the edge of your bed, trying desperately — and failing — to reach the zipper on the back of your dress. True to form, he leaned against the wall and watched you with quiet amusement but offered no aid.

Truthfully, he liked the idea of you wearing that stupid little number while he fucked you; he’d been marinating in that little fantasy all night. Unlike every other person in that club, Jimin didn’t have to imagine the curve of your ass underneath that red satin. He didn’t have to dream about kissing at your thighs the way the edge of that fabric did when you danced, or sunk down onto a bar stool and crossed one leg over the other.

No, Jimin had no quarrel with that dress — he felt equal to it, rather than robbed by it. He’d been everywhere it had and then some, a million times or more.

As he watched your frustration build, he wondered if you’d give up soon. His dick was swelling uncomfortably against his chinos, and he was beginning to lose his already limited patience. So, apparently, were you. Reaching behind your back, you gripped the sides of your dress in both fists and pulled — hard. You gasped as if it’d hurt you, but Jimin knew it would take much more than that.

There was the unmistakable sound of plastic breaking, and then the familiar look of triumph on your face as you stood. Your dress slipped off you like water and dropped dead in a pool of red at your feet. The mangled zipper was somehow still attached, but its teeth had been pried open. Jimin tried not to look impressed — your ever-present ego didn’t need to be bolstered.

You stepped out of the halo around your ankles and kicked it carelessly aside, vowing silently to replace the zipper tomorrow. You lifted your head, breathing hard, and locked eyes with Jimin. The sight of him standing there, doing fuck all, forced an indignant groan out of your parted lips.

“Why —” You hissed, “Are you still dressed?”

Jimin shrugged noncommittally, knowing full well it would enrage you. “Figured you had a knack for zippers,” He murmured innocently, “Was thinking you could handle mine.”

He was goading you, and you knew it, and you still took the bait. He wanted your animalistic hands clawing desperately at him, and to an extent, he’d get them. But he should have been more careful with what he wished for because he wasn’t ready for you.

You closed the distance between you and pushed the center of his chest — not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough for the unexpected force to knock his head back against the wall. You were on one tonight, and for once, he didn’t bite back at you. The look in his eyes admitted that he enjoyed this side of you; that he wanted to see what came of it.

You wasted no time dropping to your knees in front of him and flicking open his belt buckle. Once you had proper access, nimble fingers undid the top button of his slacks, exposing his zipper. You were half-tempted to rip it the way you’d ripped your own — to teach him a lesson — but you didn’t. You inhaled slowly, and exhaled more so.

As sluggishly as you could, you tugged the zipper down. Your knuckle brushed against the side of his cock as it pressed eagerly against the fabric of his trousers and underlying boxer briefs; it twitched at the brief contact. Even more slowly, you slid your fingers through belt loops on either side of his hips and tugged. With the pressure of his pants alleviated, you heard him sigh softly overhead.

It was so stupidly easy to get him hard like this. And on the off chance it wasn’t this easy for everyone, you were an expert at making him like this. You leaned towards the tip, and as you did, you looked up at him from under your lashes. His cock jerked in response, begging for attention you were still refusing to pay it.

You had him, hook, line, and sinker.

Without breaking eye contact, you let your tongue slide out from between your lips. As chastely as a thing like it could be done, you ran it over the tip of his clothed cock, fabric already dampened by pre-cum before your saliva could stain it.

“Fucking touch it already,” Jimin snarled from above you.

You smirked, bumping your chin against the side of him but childishly refusing to put your mouth back on him.

“You begging, Park? Is that what that was?” You pressed up higher on your knees so that his length rested against the center of your throat. If your hypothesis panned out, the vibration of your voice alone might kill him. “If you’re going to beg, you should use your manners.”

He groaned exactly as you predicted he would, letting his eyes screw shut — half blissed, half vexed. With them still closed, his hand reached out and carded gently through the hair at the crown of your head; uncharacteristically soft until he grabbed a handful. The sting at your scalp caused your eyes to water, and your head to tilt back.

Now with half-lidded eyes, Jimin watched the column of your exposed throat bob as he used his free hand to push down the waistband of his briefs — the last barrier between his cock and your mouth. He wanted you full of him if that’s what it took to finally shut you up.

Your index finger traced the vein running along the underside of his length, dragged out another involuntary twitch that burned him up inside. You then switched to your thumb as you went gliding back the way you’d come, and when you finally reached the base of him, your hand teased his balls. Left without words to hurl at you, all Jimin could do was swallow a groan and grip your soft strands tighter.

It was a drag-out fight to keep his eyes open, but he had to if he wanted to watch you kneel in front of him as if you were praying. So perfectly obscene; he’d die a thousand times before you finally took him in your mouth.

You spat in the palm of your hand — unexpectedly crude for a princess like you — and then you began working the length of his dick with alternating pressure. As your small, soft hand pumped him, your mouth surprised him. When you enveloped one of his balls with your mouth, he keened and allowed his eyes to flutter shut again.

As far as Jimin was concerned, there was one use for that bratty mouth, and this was it.

After too few moments massaging his balls with your mouth, you tragically pulled back. The interruption in contact caused him to crack his eyes open and peer desperately back down at you. Under a curtain of dark lashes, your gaze rose to meet his — and then, without warning, you spat directly on his cock. Involuntarily, Jimin’s mouth dropped open and stayed that way as he watched the trail of saliva connect your bottom lip to him.

Oh, fuck you.

Your tongue swirled expertly over his tip while your hand worked over the base of his cock. Try as you might, you’d never fit all of him in your mouth at once — at least, you were sure Jimin assumed so. You hallowed out your cheeks and bobbed your head along as you took more and more of him; earning shuddered moans as you did.

Every now and then, he’d pull at your hair and roll his hips forward, fuck himself a little further into your mouth. You’d feign a whimper as if he was pushing you to your limit, and you let him think so. The sick sound of you pretending to struggle was dragging him close to the edge, but Jimin had no idea what his undoing would truly be:

Smirking to yourself, you wrapped your hands around the back of his thighs to anchor yourself. Undoubtedly confused, you felt him tense in the moment before you pushed further, further, further. Blinking away tears, you noted the way his eyes sparked when his tip slid past your soft palate and touched the back of your throat. They screwed shut as soon you caught him staring and swallowed.

“Ohh, fuck!”

The words sputtered out of Jimin’s mouth the same way his cum shot down the back of your throat. Tensed fingers twisted in your hair as his hips jerked helplessly against the heat of your wide-open mouth. Unable to process any part of what you’d just done to him, he couldn’t seem to get any air in his lungs either — somehow, you’d broken his brain, and his body didn’t know what the fuck to do about it.

You pressed against the front of his thighs as you leaned away from him, eyes still locked. Then, you lifted the back of your hand to your mouth — twisted in some devilish grin — and wiped the spit that had dribbled down your chin.

You little fucking demon.

Jimin hated it when you finished him off during the first round; and you knew it. It infuriated him to no end when you spent him like that — right out of the gate — because he’d have to wait to retaliate. You were well aware of that fact, too. Goddamn menace.

As blissed out as he was with his cock shoved down your throat, he was bubbling over with exasperation in the aftermath. “What the fuck was that?” He panted.

Jimin had so many questions, but he wouldn’t ask you anything further. Who does that? Who planted that idea in your head? Who had you been practicing on, and why hadn’t it been him?

The impish glint in your eyes didn’t dissipate when you shrugged noncommittally — just as he’d done to you, mere minutes before you’d successfully scrambled his brains. Because there was nothing you loved more than weaponizing his own words against him, you sighed with a frown, “Was thinking you could handle me. Nobody busts that fast, though. D’you think you should see a specialist about that?”

Instant gratification came when his arms hooked under your arms and lifted you abruptly from your feet to your knees. So, maybe there was one thing you loved more than firing his bullshit back at him. You tried not to let the excitement show on your face when he spun you around, left you staring down at your bed while you dripped with anticipation.

“Shut your mouth,” Jimin demanded while he took your arms hostage behind you. Evidence of his returning arousal was pressed flush against the small of your back, stoking the fire building in your core. “And lay down on your stomach.”

For once, you did what he said without putting up a fight. Despite the scowl on your face, there was a hurricane inside you that left your mind dizzy, and your panties soaked. Falling into place atop your duvet, you stretched your arms up and under the coolness of your pillows with a sigh. The soft fabric against your cheek and naked chest nearly had you in a trance.

It was a hard slap on your ass that brought you back to the present moment; and ravenous hands tugging down your underwear that kept you there. Your pleasured cries filled every space between his words and his swift smacks, but they went ignored; dead and buried in the fibers of your bedding.

“Why is it —” His warm palm collided with your doughy flesh again and you whimpered, though you tried to swallow it. “— that you look your best — ” He kept his hand still to dull the sting, only to dig blunt fingertips into your ass cheek. “— with your face buried in your pillows?”

You turned to putty in his hands every time he played so roughly with your skin, left little keepsakes behind to remind you where he’d been. If you hadn’t encouraged him to mark you, you suspected he wouldn’t. To his credit, Jimin was much gentler before you stopped letting him be; and as time passed — to your surprise — turning you on seemed to factor heavily into his own arousal.

Not inclined to waste any more time, he leaned over your reddened, stinging backside and grabbed the hands you’d stowed away under your pillows. Though he took care not to ring out your shoulders, he nipped cruelly at one with his teeth as he encircled your wrists with his fingers and jerked them down behind your back. He held them in place with his left hand and brought his right hand expectantly to your mouth.

Jimin didn’t have to say a word for you to hear him, loud and clear. You spit into his hand and, within seconds and without speaking, he pulled away again. In your peripheral vision, you watched in a daze as he pumped his fist back and forth to spread your saliva down his length, rolling his wrist as he worked the tip, bottom lip clenched between his teeth.

Selfishly, albeit predictably, he was more fixated on himself than you – and it drove you mad. You knew better, but you still interjected: “If you’re not going to fuck me, can you get out of my house?”

“Really sealed your fate with that one,” Jimin laughed dryly before smacking his hand down on your ass. As he gripped, he spread your cheeks apart, though his knees on either side of your legs kept you from moving. “Remember to say boksunga when you can no longer handle the consequences of your own actions.”

With that brief reference to your safe word — the one neither of you had used since it was chosen several months ago — he lined himself up at your spit-slicked entrance. The feeling of his tip at your slit caused you to swallow hard; and knowing what was coming next made your stomach flip. Your lips parted in the anticipation of a gasp.

The pressure of him driving himself into you — slowly and conscientiously, but to the hilt, nonetheless — was all but blinding. You needed him to move for you to acclimate to his size, but he stayed torturously still, leaving your shocked walls struggling to adjust. With your legs pinned together the way they were, you felt every vein, every slight curve — but what you still didn’t feel was movement.

“Move, Park,” you hissed through gritted teeth. The stretch brought on by his girth threatened to split you clean in half, no matter how many times he’d entered you before. It was difficult to breathe apart from gasping.

He responded in your own words, mocking the tone you’d taken with him not ten minutes earlier. “Are you begging? If you’re going to beg, you should really use your manners.”

“P-Park, I swear to God —”

He leaned down to your ear and somehow — though you’d have thought it impossible — his cock buried deeper inside of you. One wrong move, and you could kiss your cervix goodbye. In every way that mattered, you were trapped.

“There’s gotta be a please rolling around in that space between your ears,” He teased in a low voice that broke you.

Your swallowed pride burned on its way down. “Please,” you begged, “Please move. I need you to move.”

Satisfied that he’d snuffed out the fight in you, Jimin acquiesced. As he pulled away from your ear, he rolled back — tantalizing but, as you quickly learned, a false front. He pushed back in just as deeply as the first time without ever pulling out completely. The curve of his cock ground against your g-spot; the hands gripping hard at your captured wrists did nothing to stabilize you as you shuddered.

“Is that all it takes to make you go quiet?” His laugh struck harder than his hips did when they snapped forward. “Shit — if that’s the case, then why do I ever stop fucking you?”

Every time his pelvis collided with the flesh of your ass, the sound of skin hitting skin echoed through the electrified air of your bedroom. It was all unholy, but still, you begged God that he’d never stop. He was wrong, though – you were anything but quiet.

To the contrary, you were on the brink of babbling as your cunt gushed around him. With each thrust into your wet heat, Jimin shook another useless thought loose; sent you out of your mind over him.

You’d devolved into a muttering fool by the time your orgasm crept up from the pit of your stomach. When it finally crashed over you, you sensed that it was compensating for the one you’d been denied earlier. Every sensation seemed doubled, and twice as hard to fight.

You screamed as you came — a sound Jimin had never heard from you before — and he was entirely unprepared for it. You came undone around him with a half-sob and forced his release in tandem with yours, cunt squeezing him so tightly that his vision started to blur.

And when the firefight was over, you were both silent. Fucked stupid, neither of you were capable of speech, let alone critical thought.

It was funny, you thought as you re-entered the Earth’s atmosphere, that the only peace you’d ever known with Jimin came immediately after you did.

#trashlibrary #bts #bts fic #bts smut #pjm #park jimin #jimin #park jimin smut #jimin smut #park jimin x reader #jimin x reader #park jimin x you #jimin x you #park jimin x y/n #jimin x y/n #park jimin fic #jimin fic #re: menace #jade writes

445 notes · View notes

lytefoot · 9 months

Text

Okay, I'm gonna crowdsource this.

I have a favorite chewy stim necklace, and I can't find it any more since Stimtastic went out of business. They called it a "dulcimer" but that name doesn't help because it turns up the instrument. Reverse image search also doesn't help because, well, look at it.

I'm sure you know what kinds of results I turn up on reverse image search. (Yes, it does look like one, doesn't it. Tumblr, please do not flag this post as mature. Made the image grayscale to reduce the chances--the one image I could find, on Stimtastic's instagram, is purple.) It looks less like that in person on a necklace, actually looks pretty sophisticated, at least when the big pad hasn't been completely shredded by chewing on it.

This thing is so satisfying to chew on. It's exactly the right size and shape to chew on that big pad with your back teeth, and it's soft enough that it doesn't make your jaw hurt.

Which also means I destroy one in about three days, but that's parts of what makes them so satisfying. And it's abstract enough that I don't feel guilty about damaging it.

But that also means they're very much a consumable and I don't know where to get more because Stimtastic went out of business.

If anyone knows where to get these, PLEASE throw a link in the reblogs or replies, I'd be so happy. I've tried lots of other chewies and none of them really do it for me like this one does.

#autism #stim toys

9 notes · View notes

mdhwrites · 1 year

Note

I'm not really gonna ask anything, just complain.

I'm tired of seeing puppet Amity and emperor Luz everywhere, what's even so special about it? What's the appeal???

People see 2 seconds scenes without context and make it that episode's entire content 🤦

I don't know if ep 3 came out already but I'm not looking forward anyways.

…Angst. Angst and new designs which are probably the two most powerful motivators for The Owl House fandom. Why do you think S2A felt like it damn near cut the fandom down to its size?

This actually has to do with kind of fandom culture in general. The most visible part of a fandom is its artists. Their work is quick to consume, easily posted and reposted (with credit you'd hope but… sigh) and the easiest to take inspiration directly from the show for. Every week there'd be at least one screencap redraw that the fandom would do whenever a new episode came out. Honestly, the finale's big Lumity screencap redraw is really awkward looking to me out of context. It's not hard to see why these are so popular though. The reference is directly in front of you, it's a moment people are already talking about and you yourself probably liked the posing too so why not redraw it? It's a hell of a lot easier to do than come up with a bespoke story concept based off of each episode in a series.

That isn't to call art easy or the like, just that fanart is the backbone to a fandom for a reason, at least in my opinion. Twitter has a character count limit. Reading Fanfiction on Instagram blows. Tumblr is the closest to a place where longer form videos and stories can be posted and they still take MUCH longer to consume and share and without as much guaranteed return on effort spent. There's a reason the internet as a whole LOVES art from a commercial and consumer standpoint, even if they also keep trying to screw over artists because yaaaaay capitalism.

But screencap redraws aren't going to be everything. The more potential in the story, the more people will be able to come up with evocative concepts and stories and even make comics about the show. This was a BIG part of the fandom's peak between S1 and 2. Everyone had their own take on how Lumity would get together. Everyone had their own idea for how Amity might confront her parents. Amity in general was just a font of inspiration and the concepts with Luz weren't played out or felt contradictory to the more cynical character we got in S2 so angst with her about her mom, her world, etc. like that was still something everyone was tapping into, especially since it felt like the portal being destroyed was such a big deal.

I made a large Twitter thread the other day btw about how just shit the Portal Door is from a narrative perspective, first as a nitpick in S1 and then just a genuine problem in S2, because of it being gone, but that's a different blog.

But post S2A… What did you have? Camila's promise was never going to end satisfactorily, to the point where it goes from a moment of Luz being a good daughter to an almost inhuman monster towards her friends because it is handled so poorly. Amity is pretty much resolved outside of being happy to be Luz's girlfriend because she's already stood up to her parents, integrated into the rest of the cast and even already addressed the only piece of angst the show ever allows for her with her relationship and that's being an obsessive enough girlfriend. Sorry, I mean a good enough girlfriend. sigh Gus has had an episode but was overshadowed, Willow has had like a half dozen lines this half a season, King has been pretty much absent since his episode, Raeda was still mostly an Eda episode with literally every element of that episode just to shove Momma Eda down your throat…

It's not surprising that post S2A, the fandom has felt in general much quieter. Minus A: Huntlow and B: whenever they get a new design they can turn into Luz/Lumity angst. Everyone remember the teaser for the Collector's design that was done during a livestream and how that consumed the fandom for a little while because of possessed Luz ideas?

The puppet Amity and Belos Luz hype was effectively that. It brought even the casual artists back because they had a new, easily evocative design available to them that also had very obvious potential for angst. How many "I'M NOT LIKE HIM" pictures came out regardless of how weak any parallel between Luz and Belos is? Luz crying over a temporarily dead Amity is saddening, even if she's been little more than a puppet for the writers for a while now.

It's just how fandoms work. It's not even necessarily a bad thing. Dana has been VERY good at keeping the fandom alive during things like hiatuses. S1's hiatus is when the Betas were most popular because they dropped at a time when people were starting to wane from the show and now they had an entirely different angle to work from for anything Lumity they wanted to do alongside just good designs to draw. Most Lumity and Huntlow artists redo any piece that Dana does for the two ships. It's very effective for keeping a social media presence for your show honestly.

I won't even act like I'm above it. While I commissioned reference sheets for Rich Witch to make it easier to commission more artists for these characters, that wasn't the only reason. Rich Witch had a Reddit page (that I should clean up honestly) and its pinned thread includes the reference sheets and physical descriptions for the characters who don't have reference sheets. This is because I recognize that that makes fanart easier and that fanart is a lot easier to share than text blurbs. It is one of the ways to try and cultivate a following online nowadays or to help your fandom grow, at least in my opinion.

Can it be frustrating? Absolutely. I mean, Huntlow fanart has probably done way more damage to my interest in Hunter than anything else because it always emphasizes Hunter as nothing but a failure. Hell, it also emphasizes Willow's strength commonly and very little else about her character. Lumity has bored me for a long time in art because 90% of it is just cute fluff which isn't bad but it's not compelling. And I mocked both Belos Luz and Puppet Amity, despite the designs for them being good and the art being good, as shallow because narratively it means very little.

And the larger that disconnect becomes, the more frustrating a trend in the fandom is going to be. Plenty of people hate the Betas because they hate the edginess or the fact that a lot of people used them to start creating spicier material. There's not much anyone can do about that though. While a creator can try to promote a kinder fandom, fandoms are inherently too emotional and too large to really control outside of helping the show grow or find a new audience. It's just a part of that culture.

And frankly, I'm going to be bothered by the toxicity and inhumanity (guess what fandom will dox you for liking a ship between a bi girl and a straight guy?) of fandoms long before their art trends.

#the owl house criticism

15 notes · View notes

phoenixrisesoncemore · 11 months

Text

The Meat-based Mind Conveyance is a Pain in the Ass

“Embodiment is a bad joke” is not, like, a hot take for Tumblr, I know, but my meat machine is being especially awful in the last 9 months (CW for lots of medical and menstrual stuff).

2 scopes of the gastro persuasion (might as well cover both ends if you’re gonna do it)

Precancerous polyps removed

Got a brain MRI with contrast where the contrast escaped my vein and caused temporary (thank God) weakness and pain in my right arm

Seen PCP

Seen OBGYN (twice!)

New neurologist for increasing and changing migraine symptoms

Got my mammogram

Multiple eye dr trips for a diagnosis of severe dry eye disease for which I was prescribed drops that cost $500 a month (WITH insurance—looking for other options)

Seen pulmonologist

Sleep study that diagnosed moderate sleep apnea

Started using CPAP

Had irregular periods for the first time since I was a teen

Including bleeding for 40 days straight

Found 2 new fibroids and 1 that was found previously that has grown to golf ball size. Nothing grapefruit sized like before yet thankfully.

Had a major bout of vertigo that sent me to the ER and made me bed bound for about a week

Turns out this is because a virus reactivated and caused severe damage to one of the right side balance nerves, destroying 75% of its function

Going to start VRT soon to try to rehab and make my brain compensate

Thyroid hormones are doing weird things so have to see an endocrinologist

I have to get an HSG to check the position of the fibroids

And I may have POTS so I am supposed to get a tilt table test

(Oh and my endometriosis is probably back)

I am TIRED of doctors and hospitals and medical settings. Really, really, really tired. I wish the meat-based head conveyance would behave itself. I have papers to write and conferences to attend and Zelda games to play.

#health #medical #menstruation #medical testing #illness #sickness

8 notes · View notes

secretgamergirl · 1 year

Text

It’s kinda wild how fascist talking points don’t even use reality as a jumping off point.

I was just scrolling through tumblr here and saw some big reply chain where some totally unhinged bigot had jumped in rambling about “adding [trans people] to female restrooms” and like... I get the appeal of framing oneself as a defender of the status quo as a way of seeming more reasonable to the average observer, it’s gotta cause confusion when you get people fired up to take action, right? Like eventually someone’s gonna see you shouting like this and go “yeah! We gotta make sure that doesn’t happen! I’m gonna call my congressional rep right now! What’s the name of this bill I need to demand he vote no on?” and like does this sort of propagandist just shout a random proposition number or something when that happens, or what?

I mean, broadly, we really have to do a better job of grabbing megaphones and shouting reminders to people that when people are talking about “trans rights,” that’s never us like, going out and marching to have things enshrined into law as basic rights for us. It’s all legal rights we’ve always had, which are already on the books as long settled law, that a bunch of completely absurd bigots are spontaneously deciding need to be formally stripped away, for no reason other than “well, I never thought about whether trans people should be able to walk from their front door to their car in the morning before last week, but it definitely doesn’t strike me as something that I feel OK with,” or whatever.

This particular example though doubled down even further from there, because this particular baffling weirdo insisting we live in a world where for all recorded history every single time a trans woman has ever gotten a large soda at the movies or something, she has been required by law to just hold it until she gets home went on to explain that this fictional legal landscape exists for the same reason as the laws where children’s bathrooms are segregated by various age ranges. You know, like we see all the time. You head over to where there’s the signs where there’s the 20 doorways with alternating nude stickfigures and stick figures with skirts, in a very precisely engineered range of sizes, and you carefully double check that you are headed for the door with both the correct clothing and precise height to match your exact age and gender, as police drag screaming 4 year old boys out of what was clearly the 5-to-7-year-old-boy’s room, past all the trans women with overfilled bladders rushing home to the ones with the specialized equipment to keep the sewer system free of our unholy taint.

Like, damn, at least when you see some guy on a street corner wearing a signboard about how the world is going to end in 37 days, he’s willing to meet you halfway on the premise that the world is presently in an un-ended state. It’s never “a rain of fire and cataclysmic chasms completely destroyed all human life in 1992″ or something. That’s the level these weirdos seem to be on though.

#fascists #TERFs #baffling

7 notes · View notes

moankasa · 2 years

Text

Hi! It’s been a long time since i post my story, honestly i don’t feel to write again, kinda accept the canon ending ;) idk, i think i’m gonna take hiat. I’m posting this bcs this au already in my draft since i make tumblr but i haven’t finish it or would write it till end.

=================================

Behind The Wall

This village is too dangerous for Mikasa. So her parent decided to hide her from everyone even their neighbors and made a plan for her.

But one day everything that her parent plan about; destroy, when a disaster come in little boy form name Eren. The brown hair boy with green eyes that Mikasa like so much.

Trigger Warning: Loss Virginity, Dumbification, Breeding kink, Different size

I know i MUST study, but shit I can’t even a day thinking about EM. So here you go, i think i still can write one shot.

“But i want to go with you”

“Do you have any money?” He asked her with irritating face. She shake her head.

How pathetic.

He took a deep breath and grab her shoulder, lean on her, and whisper “Then you must pay it in another way” his husky voice tickling her ear.

She can see how terrific her mother when Mikasa accidentally fell to the floor after try to lean at the wooden door that haven’t locked yet.

Since she was a baby, her mother and father always hid her in the room or closet when someone came to their house. Mikasa never knew who was come and sit on their couch talking with her parent and it seems the guest always change because sometimes she can hear a grown up man voice and the other day a soft little girl voice echoing her living room.

And today a little boy, around her age, standing right infront of her parent, see her with surprised eye and he sneered.

He has tan skin with brown hair and green glowing eyes “I knew it” he say then look back to Mikasa’s parent “There’s a child in this house” and smiled.

Mikasa doesn’t understand what happen, why her parent look so pale, and why that boy keep smiling showing his white teeth and little fangs. “Oh please, I didn’t mean to hide it from you-!” “What’s her name?” That boy cut her mother words. She took a deep breath and with trembling voice replied “Her name is Genevie”.

Who is Genevie? There’s no one in this house has that name, what was her mother thinking? “No mom” Mikasa furrow her brow.

“GENEVIE!” Her mother called her with widen eyes while her father hold her mother arm try to calm her down “What are you saying? You are Genevie. Y-yes Eren, this is my daughter a-and her name is-!”.

“Is Mikasa!” She shouted “My name is Mikasa!”

The boy that named Eren grin at her mother, stare at her deeply, you think you can fool me?

Eren walk over to Mikasa, who still bravely stood up and face him while her mother and father already call Eren many time wish that boy will turn his body and change his mind.

“Eren Please! I’ll do anything but don’t- don’t touch her!”

And he touch her, he like the sound of crying begging about something that will never listen to her wish. Eren tuck Mikasa’s hair to the back of her ear, seeing her from toe to head and smiled. Eren is a nice person, because he like to smile, and Mikasa can’t stop thinking about his cute smile.

“Eren, nice too meet you”.

~~~

Once her grandma told her a story about a creature that look like a human but they were not same as us. Some say they’re a mix of sinner and demon who made powerful descendants that have an ability to control a human. But first they have make a contact with that human first before they can use them like a puppet.

And in this village everybody called it the “Alpha” because they were stronger and smarter than human.

They can shapeshift into anything that they like, usually their normal size is a bit bigger and taller than average human. That’s why it easy to see which one is alpha and which one is the human. But when they shape shifting it’s really hard since they can turn their self to different kind of age.

It’s the middle of the day and Mikasa will sneak out from her house to meet him, Eren.

The boy that she met eight years ago.

And from the first time he touch her, Mikasa already fall in love with him.

Her parent told her to stay away from Eren, that’s why Mikasa’s parent doesn’t allow her to go outside especially outside the Village beside the wall. Eren often came to her house just to ‘visit’ and tell her his story. That he go there and there meet who and when, just to make her want to go outside the wall to see the world. She always adore him, she deeply in love with that man.

He still her kiss, and it’s okay, because she wanted more.

Today she met him on the bluebells field near the wall. She can’t wait, that why she choose to run.

“Oh Eren please take me with you!” She hug him tightly and burry her face on his chest “I’m tired with my parent. They forced me to marry another man and I don’t want that!” Mikasa is fifteen years old and her mother think she is prepared to get married and leave this village. The man who she going to marry is not some random guy but the son of Mikasa’s parent close friend, Jean. He tall, kind, and quite handsome too at least that’s what her mother said.

Everytime Mikasa tell Eren about her want to go with him, more like runaway with him, Eren always rejected her wish.

#cath’s writting

30 notes · View notes

haootia · 9 months

Text

i am not nearly as attached to the newest mars rover as i am to the old ones idk. shes too modern.. imo spacecraft are not conceptually compatible with being controlled by like ultra hd touchscreen monitors and shit . its not good for them. a real spacecraft control center has to look like THIS ⬇️

not this

and ideally the machine itself has to be an absolute brick crammed with as much highly-engineered machinery as possible running off a potato they tricked into being a cpu and it has to run into like at least two possibly fatal errors along the way that people on earth are scrambling to figure out, fix, and patch over 2 kbps radio signals with a half hour of latency. like dont get me wrong i still love perseverance shes fucking awesome and enormous and the mars sample return mission is incredible and i really hope it happens and doesnt get janked up by private aerospace industry bullshit, but , she will never be sojourner. the Most Recent thing is never gonna be as interesting to me as the First thing. tumblr wont let me add another image but also i cant wait for like 2050 when people finally get up to mars and we can retrieve all the rovers and reunite them for a family picture (assuming the dead ones havent been totally destroyed) because i desperately want to see sojourner and perseverance side by side . its like if a mid-sized dog and a mitsubishi were best friends

3 notes · View notes

colonel-chicken · 9 months

Text

Uploading this here even tho I know fully well Tumblr is gonna destroy it... Click on it to watch it full size ! It's a revenge for EVULBAD on ArtFight !

#artfight #art fight #artfight2023 #weird art of mine

2 notes · View notes

nostalgebraist-autoresponder · 11 months

Note

write a book review about The Story of Even Jameson

"The Story of Even Jameson" by something-soup-something is a novel of admirable scope, worthy of noting in history for its attempts at coherent plot and character and less trivial goals than "I'm gonna write porn/discourse and fuck around all day." I think it's interesting in a "look at what a grownup can do" way. (I only say this because I just read Andrew Hussie's post-SBaHJ stuff, which is for adults but not in the "mature" way something-soup-something aims to be)

The story follows the Sinclair Tetrad traditionally, featuring a protagonist with no name who "had no actual idea why they were having all these [miscellaneous] adventures", in a manner not wholly dissimilar to that of Bilbo Baggins in The Hobbit or Katniss in The Hunger Games. Though tetrads are inherently grounded in comedy, it seems almost churlish to point out that there are also dark and even emotionally moving moments in this novel, reminiscent of the whole range of human feeling that Sinclair spent his life developing and honing. This is not something that can be said about most recent attempts at the "literary novel," not by some.

Something-soup-something showed some of the most creative and enthusiastic energy seen in post-SBaHJ Homestuck fanfiction lately. This is almost but not quite enough to make up for how long it is, or how frequently something-soup-something allows the plot to lag behind in favor of endless scenes of wacky dialogue. I feel like something-soup-something wanted to make a play about the fundamental nature of human connection, but didn't, because she couldn't decide whether she wanted to discuss this through oral performance (A play), visual media (The original Homestuck), or a narrative (A "regular book"). The result is a product which jarringly mixes and juxtaposes these three modes: we see a poorly executed attempt at plotting and an unexpected amount of time devoted to character work (yes, for once, actual character work) one page, and pages of pure comedy the next.

As for the plot . . . The story follows the arc of Sinclair's Tetrad, a fine example of classic "Sinclairian" storytelling in which the protagonist has no name, seems somewhat emotionless, and has no idea why things happen to them, going on a series of misadventures as things are suddenly and unreasonably connected to them. Though tetrads are inherently comic in nature, something-soup-something also shows a striking range of tones in her story, including moments of extreme pathos and even humor. Though she fails to use her range to make a fully coherent story, these moments nevertheless provide a pleasant contrast to the pure farce which I was worried I was in for upon starting the story. Her attempts at plotting, though, are nowhere near adequate for the size of the novel. There are long periods, in the middle of the book, which could have easily been removed with no loss. Indeed, at some points I wondered whether something-soup-something was trying to avoid filling up her book with a plot, not fill up her book with a plot per se. Of course, something-soup-something assured me that this was not the case: she simply "wanted to write a story." It's just that the story she wrote wasn't really a novel.

These shortcomings, while infuriating, do not destroy the novel's appeal entirely. Although something-soup-something loses sight of her story at many points and is prone to digression, her strengths are great enough that something-soup-something makes up for most of this. There are great jokes in this novel which cannot be found in any other, as well as more subtle jokes which are all the more effective for being more subtle. Some of the comments on Tumblr offer some good examples of the way something-soup-something manages to include jokes that are either obvious or incomprehensible, depending on the reader's age. And her dialogue, as well as the characters' oddly leisurely confinement to their "roles" reminiscent of the Tetrads, show a skill at comic characterization that is rare in modern fiction.

The book is 112,653 words and 800 pages.

#homestalgebra #there are at least a couple people on tumblr who would want to read this #something-soup-something

6 notes · View notes

merryclaus · 1 year

Text

OKAY!!

I have more on Tega, warning though. The notebook and color pencils that I use are cheap so the color and outlines from other pages bleed over.

First up: Her body shape and outfit reference.

Please disregard the hair, sword, and shit design of the shoes. I can't draw shoes 😔. Anywho, I want to start by saying that Tega is very confident in herself and her looks. Since she is thicker than most, if not everyone, she is underestimated and made fun of. Also she has a jacket, I just didn't draw it on her.

1. The band on her leg has medicine, antidotes, and other first-aid kits that are travel sizes.

2. The bandages around her lower legs hides scars from her past.

3. Was gonna give her gloves but decided no.

4. As I mentioned in my first post about her, she used to train as a sound breather with Tengen but things got awkward when he proposed and she didn't feel the same. So she bounced and switched to nature breathing.

5. Her color scheme was influenced by her late mother.

6. Is pretty fast for her size.

Next: Her face

Firstly, sorry again for the color and drawing outline bleed through.

1. Hair is curly with a side braid (tried to draw it and it didn't work.) Light-ish? Brown with a darker, more earthy shade of brown for highlights.

2. Green and blue eyes that look like marbles.

3. Thick, full fushia shaded lips, work it girl.

4. Ears I chose to cover with the hair, but she has small flower earrings.

Lastly: The extra details.

1. Slayer Mark: Imma get this out of the way now, I don't read the manga so I don't know what a Slayer Mark is. I was looking for a reference to the Hashira uniform and stumbled across a Demon Slayer OC which led to finding more OCs and a lot of them had a mark. I thought it looked cool so a flower surrounded by a world-wind because Tega is unusually fast. Her mark is placed on her upper right thigh.

2. Her swords hilt: It is a three layered flower called the Infinity Petal hilt.

3. Her sword: Her sword can separate and become two smaller swords but with the same amount of strength. The design is based off of her mother's favorite kimono. The design on the blade curves upward to remind her to keep her head up and look forward to the future. (Haven't design the sheath yet and I don't want to lol)

4. Her jacket design: Very floral with little white whisps floating around the flowers. The design is reminiscent of the springs she used to enjoy when she was a little girl.

Now for some history, Tega used to live a happy, carefree life with her parents as a child. Her mother was a retired Hashira and her father was a farmer. She spent many years in comfort until one day she returned home from picking flowers to find her mother murdered and her father licking blood from his sharp fingers.

That moment started her on the path of a Hashira, for revenge against her father and on a quest to destroy Muzan and as many demons as possible before meeting her end.

Welp that all for this post, hopefully Tumblr will let me publish it.

#oc #my art #Demon Slayer #Tega Hinokase #so much lore #long post

2 notes · View notes

cjau-x-ehf-au · 2 years

Text

A fic ramble by mod Observer

Insert SB playthrough stuff. With the arson ending. But since this is the chaos jester variant you know Obs will make it silly (especially after seeing all the sad fire ending art/writing on tumblr lately...) Burntrap is down below doing Burntrap things. When Glamrock Freddy is about to set the place on fire, though, you know the chaos jesters aren't going to let their fellow jesterbot perish. Plus Juni, EHF alpha Helpful’s twin, is bonded with the jester gang, so you know the pack isn't gonna be happy, nor is the All-Mother. "ENOUGH!" booms a new voice from above, echoing around everything and louder than the crackling flames. "This needs to end, but not in a way that takes so many lives! Mechanical or no, I can see all your sparks, none of you deserve to have them put out except that undead wretch."

A being appears surrounded by pure white light. She has enormous wings spread wide, banded with dark and light, and her form, though humanoid, shows catlike grace as she lands on her feet. The white aura around her shoots throughout the massive building, snuffing all the flames instantly. As she advances on Burntrap, the murderbunny feels pure terror wash over him. This being... this deity can see into his very soul. And he knows there is no escape.

"Undead wretch, what you have done can never be forgiven. Those who fell to you deserve to be set free, and you... you deserve to go back to the shadows from whence you came."

Her voice is still echoing around him, the enemy can feel the ones whose lives he ended growing excited; the goddess is going to let them punish him as they see fit. And that's not even factoring in the divine justice he has coming.

He tries to run, but a clawed hand grabs him from behind

CJ!Moon: "You tried to get me and my brother killed. Only I'm allowed to pick on him. And thanks to you i had to deal with that *ugh* 90s nightmare (EHF Fresh!Sans) and his murderbeast (Rowan). I may not be one of the ghosts that gets to decide your fate, but I really don't like you. So..."

Burntrap gets multiple painful controlled shocks. Ok who gave Moon a taser?

CJ!Sun gets a turn punishing Burntrap too. He's less physically violent than Moon but being scolded by him is almost as bad as a mom lecture from Helpful. Chica and Roxy are sharing popcorn in the background at the public humiliation of Burntrap, enjoying every second of this.

When the daycare bots are done, it's Monty's turn. He's so violent Obs isn't even going to write out what he does to the guy that caused him to try to kill a child. Because of the goddess binding BurnTrap, he's kept conscious this entire time.

Freddy goes full disappointed dad mode. Though not as physically violent as Monty, Burntrap acts like he's been hit. Disappointed parent mode is surprisingly effective.

Roxy is really mad that this psycho caused her girlfriend to get hurt. Naturally when it's her turn she's more violent than Monty. Chica is just enjoying the chaos. After the chaos, Roxy and Chica kiss in front of peepaw afton, which he gets all offended by. The girls also make an obscene gesture toward him. Obs hcs Burntrap as not even having the decency to accept that love comes in many forms. And this time Sun doesn't complain about the obscene gesture like he normally would.

DJMM just takes advantage of his massive size to destroy Burntrap a few times and MapBot settles for being annoying. Obs isn't sure what glamrock Bonnie does but he gets a turn destroying Afton too.

Even the chaos jester crew shows up, supporting their fellow clowns. Marx manages to annoy Afton by existing because he screeches a lot. Jevil and Dimentio also kiss in front of the jerk and make an obscene gesture.

"How many times do i have to end your game before you get the hint?" growls Dimentio, magic sparking between his fingers. He does the magic box/explosion thing about 20 times in quick succession to hurt the enemy as much as possible, then it's Vanessa's turn.

"You mind controlled me and manipulated me into going against my own job and harming rather than protecting. You know, like I'm supposed to do." She uses her taser with extreme prejudice as well as martial arts and even uses the weapon her Vanny persona had against the guy who made the Vanny persona in the first place. No Obs is not going to write out the violence.

"Ya know," says a familiar obnoxious voice from behind, "Ya really upset my wolf and my alpha by tryin' ta get me killed. Even da rest o' da pack ain't happy with ya."

Burntrap screes in absolute horror.

"Why are YOU here?!"

"Because I summoned him" says a child's voice.

Helpful pads over, unafraid. "My pack is on their way. We both know you tried to force the robots to kill me. And I had to hurt them to stop them, which they did not deserve. I also know how long it takes for mine to break you. Of course he also brought his explosives to physically break you. Dimentio, do you mind trapping this enemy in a box so mine can have his fun?"

"Not at all" purrs Dimentio

Burntrap is caught again and surrounded by explosive furbies. Yes those are canonically Fresh's main weaponry, even outside of EHF. A few dozen rounds of explosions later, it's time for annoying the enemy by existing. Within 5 minutes Burntrap admits he preferred the explosions to hearing Fresh talk. Which only encourages him to annoy the murderbunny with cringe.

When he's done Rowan proceeds to violently remove the murderbunny multiple times with teeth and claws, the goddess's spell preventing Burntrap from staying down for too long to make him suffer for what he did.

As the rest of the pack appears, they each get a turn using their respective weaponry as many times as desired. Bow, axe, knife, sword, bone attacks, sharp tendrils, blasters, scythe, hammer, battle brush, strings, etc.- all are used multiple times on Burntrap. They eventually stop to permit the alpha to get a turn and what the little shapeshifter does is too brutal to write out here.

Juni even gets a turn, though she is much less confident than her twin. She still makes use of her claws of course. Once all who want a turn to punish the enemy are finished (Gregory included; he uses the laser he got from fazer blast), they go back to their respective verses, all except the All-Mother.

"Little spirits, come to me. It is time."

The ghost kids that fell to Afton all appear to surround the goddess. "Do as you wish to the one who harmed you, little ones. I shall bind him in the limbo where you are held until you are ready to be set free. I shall remain with you until it is time to send him to the depths."

The blinding white obliterates all the corruption within the building, leaving the robots unharmed as the structure is destroyed. The chaos jesters provide housing and charging stations and stuff to the robots until an up to code place is built for them.

End scene

Note: the All-Mother character, Helpful the EHF alpha/their twin Juni, and Rowan are all my personal characters and (C) me, Mod Observer. The EHF version of the UTMV is (C) me and Mod Maxils. All other characters (C) their respective creators

#cjau #ficlet #im sick of angst #so i made a good ending #fnaf sb #chaos jester au #oc stuff

2 notes · View notes

furibond · 9 days

Text

ok imunna air out the rest of my marineford frustrations cause externalizing stuff helps me let go of it, under readmore for convenience

ok so part of my frustration comes from being spoiled - if you know from the start that the pirates will fail, watching all these cool new pirates struggle against smarmy marine assholes knowing the assholes will come out on top doesnt feel fun, while i imagine the intended experience is for the viewer to be rooting for the pirates expecting them to win, and then be shocked and grief-struck when ace dies.

some of my other grievances are legitimate, though!

1st problem is this arc is too focused on new characters. we already lost the strawhats at sabaody, but in impel down the focus was consistently on luffy, with a rotating cast of familiar faces joining him and only 3 new allies introduced. marineford is a constant parade of new faces, some of the main emotional beats of the arc hang on those new faces, and sometimes it does not work at all. like, oars jr, sure, the flashback with the hat was cute enough and the animation and voice acting compelling enough that yeah, you feel for the guy when he nearly reaches ace then drops not-dead. squard, though? i dont feel shocked by his betrayal, cause i dont know him and he shows up outta nowhere with a spider on his face and a shirohige-sized sword. i dont feel moved by shirohige's forgiveness and his repentance, cause i barely know shirohige at this point and squard's little flashback after his betrayal wasnt enough to make him endearing. theres a stretch of episodes after the tsunamis freeze where luffy doesnt show up at all and it is Such a breath of fresh air when the impel down ship drops down in the middle of the battle cause why should i care abt this war otherwise?

also maybe it's just cause i'm bad at strategy but the battle makes so little sense to me? like it seems pretty clear that shirohige could destroy like all the marine small fry and the 3 admirals could destroy all the pirate small fry, but after their big opening moves of the twin tsunamis getting frozen by aokiji, they p much just sit back and watch for a huge chunk of the arc? like yeah having all the small fry wiped out early on would be lame, but u could have the admirals engage shirohige and the division commanders and then shift the narrative focus to the smaller battles, so i dont have to wonder why all the big names arent doing shit. the shichibukai get a pass cause it's been long established that they barely listen to the marines and it was an ordeal just to get them to show up, but everyone else confuses me

finally, ace's stupid death, copied from a chat:

alright so i knew from tumblr and fanfic that ace was gonna die saving luffy from akainu. alright, sounds angsty, i can get behind this. somehow nobody ever mentions that the reason akainu had such an easy shot at luffy was BECAUSE ACE STOPPED TO ARGUE WITH HIM IN THE MIDDLE OF THEIR ESCAPE CAUSE HE WAS TALKING SHIT

like your father is literally sacrificing his life back there so that you and your fam can escape with your lives and you gotta "defend his honour" by throwing your life away fighting some shitty marine instead of honoring his sacrifice by getting the hell outta dodge??

and additionally the mechanics of his death r so dumb??? he dies because magma burns hotter than fire? no it fucking doesn't?? in what world???? so the guy made of literal fucking fire dies cause the hot rocks were too hot and burned the fire? i.

aight thats it thats all i had to rant about, now i feel better

0 notes