My obsession page where I’ll yap about Jegulus and Wolfstar and Skam France and whatever else I’m hyperfixated on at the time 🫶🏻 jegstarbrainrot on ao3 (For a silly Marauders fix)
i was training a young person at work, and she referred to sexual assault as "SA" out loud, and i immediately was like, "no, it's sexual assault, call it what it is," bc idgaf if the algorithm overlords have taught y'all that you should fear direct language, how tf do any of you expect to ever address real issues with any amount of seriousness if you can't even say the words? imagine an advocate looking a sexual assault survivor in the eyes and asking "did he grape you?" it's absolutely fucking absurd, but these young interns and new hires are coming into an environment where we deal with survivors of all different kinds of abuse, and they're coming with the mindset that the words are as bad as the actions, and that makes them shitty at the job and look juvenile af
i HATE self-censorship for a lot of reasons, but being in crisis work makes it even more frustrating. who are you censoring for? like i am being so fr, WHO are you censoring for? have you even thought it through? people who have been raped know that they have been raped. if someone attempts suicide or is grieving someone who did, saying "sewer slide" isn't going to protect them from any of the feelings. a murder victim's family isn't going to feel better bc you said "unalived" instead of murdered. if anything, it's just extremely invalidating and othering. it's saying "what happened to you is so bad that i won't even say the word," which is NOT trauma-informed care. you are not protecting survivors/victims when you self-censor. the ONLY things you protect when you self-censor are the puritanical ideologies that are being encouraged by rich fascists who want your money and obedience
say the fucking words, guys. just say the goddamn words before i go insane!!!
Here is a oneshot of my attempt at Trick fluff and angst (mostly Nick yearning tbh)
Nick and Troy stop in an abandoned town to look for gas and candy bars
~Failure by design~
“What about that one?”
Troy pointed at the cloud as I drifted overhead. The knuckles on his right hand were freshly split from shoving one of the dead into the brick wall of what used to be a bakery. The half coagulated blood glistened against the sun. Nick squinted at the sky, long strands of yellowing grass scratching at the backs of his ears as they lay in the empty field off to the side of the ghost town.
It’s been two days since their truck ran out of gas, because Troy wanted to take a detour a few miles back. They abandoned the truck on foot to look for gas. Troy took his time, he sauntered, strolled along the side of the road, no hurry about him. It’s like he didn’t care that they were hours away from the ranch. He couldn’t understand why Nick kept acting like he was in such a hurry and Nick didn’t understand it either. Troy was quite confident that the only person who’d care that he hadn’t come back was Nick, and Nick didn’t mind the thought of his mother getting sick with worry in his absence.
“That one looooks—,” Nick pondered, scanning the outline of the long, crooked cloud, “—like, I don’t know, a pair of scissors? They’re closed obviously, who would leave an open pair of scissors in the sky.”
“Scissors?” Troy scoffed. He shifted, tucking his arm behind his head. His elbow rested against Nicks shoulder, and he didn’t mind the weight of it. “It’s obviously a rifle. Double barrel, moderate kickback if you’re not steady, probably a 95 Winchester, maybe a Remmy if you’re feelin fancy. Why the fuck would God put scissors in the sky?”
“Why the hell would there be a rifle?” Nick crinkled his nose to hide his smile. The last thing he wanted Troy to know was that he found his insanity endearing.
This was why Nick liked spending time with him. Their conversations were easy, and neither of them put the other down, no matter how crazy the thought. Nick had learned that he could talk to Troy about nearly anything. About things that he’d never want Alicia to hear because she wouldn’t understand. About things like life, stories from his past he’d never been comfortable enough to speak outloud. About the well of black sludge that clung to the stony sides of his soul, slowly crawling its way up to the surface.
“Oh hey, I got ya something. Found it in the convenient store while you were clearing out the back,” Troy said with a grin. “Made me think of you.” He removed his elbow from Nicks shoulder to pat down his pockets. The loss of contact was haunting enough to make Nick shift in the grass until his boot touched Troy’s ankle.
His ears perked up at the sound of a plastic wrapper. Troy placed an unopened red pack of cigarettes and matches on Nicks chest with half of a PayDay candy bar, the wrapper folded down around it protectively.
“Just be glad I saved you half. Peanuts are my favorite,” Troy said, voice softening as he spoke.
Nick stared at him, his gaze the magnifying glass and Troy’s smile the sun. I got ya somethin. Nick tried to swallow the lump that set up camp in his throat. Made me think of you. As the heat of the moment warmed his chest, he held his breath and looked away, hurriedly tearing open the pack of cigarettes. The fire in his lungs burned so strong, if he exhaled now he might not even need the matches.
“Thanks,” Nick finally replied. He pulled a cigarette out of the pack with his teeth.
When he looked up, Troy’s eyes were on his mouth, staring at the place the filter indented his lower lip. Nick closed his eyes and lit the cigarette, but he only got half an inhale of smoke before Troy plucked the thing away and took a drag.
“Mmm,” Troy hummed. As he exhaled, the smoke curled around his nostrils and without thinking Nick reached out to touch it. Troy raised his eyebrows at him with an amused smirk, then handed back the cigarette. “Tastes like heaven, Nicky. You better savor it.”
Nick stared down at it. A smudge of dried dirt or blood from the corner of Troy’s mouth blotted the orange paper around the filter. He touched it with the tip of his tongue before caressing it with his lips, and hoped that Troy didn’t notice.
A hissing growl rattled the air. Troy craned his neck and sighed, watching the dead stumble up the hill behind them.
“Got it,” he said and patted Nicks thigh as if touching him there was something they’d done all the time instead of just a hope Nick kept locked away in the cage of his ribs.
Troy stood, egging the walker on as it made its slow ascent. The bottom half of its jaw hung loose like it’d been broken, and intestines wrapped around its ankle, trailing behind it like a dog broken free from its leash. There was no stomach wound, so they must have belonged to someone else.
“If I don’t make it, donate my body to science,” Troy said, then winked.
Nick rolled his eyes, taking a long drag as he flipped up his middle finger. With an exuberant laugh, Troy unsheathed the hatchet at his hip, took two skipping steps, and swung his arm around in a windmill motion, slamming the blade of the hatchet through the skull of their approaching threat.
“And that makes twenty-seven,” Troy said, slipping the weapon back into its sling, not even bothering to wipe the blood from its blade.
“That’s not twenty-seven, it’s twenty-four!” Nick scoffed. He pushed himself up, snuffing out the rest of the cigarette on the bottom of his boot.
“I killed seven of them in the convenience store!”
“Yeah, but you got four of them at one time! That should only count as one!” Nick argued. He didn’t actually care, if he was being honest. Keeping score wasn’t his top priority for this mission; keeping Troy out of trouble was. Nick also got a kick out of riling him up, but that was beside the point.
“Not uh!” Troy shot back. “It took a precise amount of effort and the perfect angle of the swing to get all those fuckers at once, not just anyone can do that! They count separate!”
“Fine, you’re right,” Nick said. Not just anyone can do that. “Keep your stupid points.” Just you. “Shouldn’t be surprised. After all you’ve always been a cheat.”
“Take it back,” Troy said. His lips pressed in a firm line, and the fight in his eyes flared up, ready to burn him to the ground.
“No, cheater, I don’t think that I will,” Nick replied, angling his body so that he could look right at him.
Troy closed the distance between them with a scowl. Nick did his best to pretend that he couldn’t feel the way his stomach flipped around the moment Troy entered his personal space.
“Fine,” Troy said, tilting his head, refusing to break eye contact. “If you won’t take that back, then I’m taking this back instead.” In an instant he had the other half of the Payday bar out of Nicks hand and in his own. He sank his teeth into it before letting out an outrageous fit of laughter, sprinting back in the direction of the town.
“Hey! You said that was for me!” Nick shouted and ran after him. He would allow himself this one indulgence. Troy didn’t need to know he was chasing him in more ways than one.
Troy took off into the small, abandoned town, and Nick listened to the echo of his footsteps against the dirt road. When the noise faded, leaving Nick standing there only able to hear the sound of his heavy breaths, he felt truly alone for the first time in months. And he hated it.
“Troy?” Nick said. Rocks skittered about as he walked around, peering into the windows of lonely store fronts left to their own devices. If he wanted to find Troy, he had to think like Troy, which appeared to be no more difficult than thinking like himself.
Weston’s Hardware to his right caught his eye, the door not quite shut all the way. Nick slipped inside, a small bell signaling his entry. The door clicked shut behind him and he turned the lock, just in case. For a moment he closed his eyes, listening for boots on linoleum, or the heavy breathing of someone who had just run in here like a psychopath on a mission to devour their own peanut flavored pride. Nick swiped a small hammer from the display by the counter as he walked by, surveying the seemingly empty shop.
“Troy?”
He crept down the first aisle taking in the empty shelves with barcode tags labeled for various colors of spray paint and gloves and little plastic glasses meant to keep you safe.
“Troy?”
He rounded the corner to the next aisle, almost knocking over a rack of small, novelty license plate keychains with names on them. Holding it up with one arm, he held it steady, pushing the rack back onto its small metal feet til it was stable. A sigh passed through his lips. All the names on the top row read ‘Nick’ and the entire second row ‘Troy’.
“I know you’re in here,” Nick said, turning around in a circle. He tried to see over the tops of the aisles. Sadly, he was about six inches too short.
Nick heard a soft scuff, or maybe it was an exhale. He turned sharply on his heel, hammer raised with the intent to strike, but Troy was standing so close that Nick’s nose brushed the scruff on his chin as he cocked his head back to meet his eye.
“You gonna hit me, Nicky?” Troy grinned. “Swing, batter batter, swing.” His eyes were wild and manic, staring down at Nick with too much time on their hands to think about the lack of space between them.
Nick could taste the peanut flavor of his breath. He pursed his lips, lifting his hands to Troy’s chest with the intent to shove, to thrash like an animal caught in a trap, but Troy grabbed his wrists, the hammer clattering to the ground.
“Take it back,” Troy said, voice calm and low.
“What?” Nick said, his upper lip curled into a sneer. “This is insane Troy, let me go.”
“Take. It. Back.”
Troy leaned in, his lips so close that Nick couldn’t control his eyes from drifting down to look at them. Troy slowly swiped his tongue across his bottom lip, and Nick watched the gentle, precise movement, staring at the plump pink tip as it lingered at the corner of his mouth before retreating behind his teeth.
“Troy,” Nick whispered.
All of his limbs felt deflated, fleshy wet sockets filled with loose air and broken bones. If Troy wasn’t holding him up he was sure he’d collapse to his knees right before him with nothing left to do down there but worship.
Troy let go of Nick’s wrists, slipping one arm around his lower back, using the other to tilt up Nicks chin with his index finger. He leaned in, gently pressing their lips together and time as he knew it halted to a stand still. Nick couldn’t breathe, could hardly think past the thrumming of his heart ricocheting up his throat and in his ears. He pushed up on his toes, or maybe it was Troy drawing him in with his sickening gravitational pull of self destruction. The wild fire that was them roared to life as their lips began to move in a rhythm of scars and teeth and desperation. Their tongues slid along each other like shotgun shells being loaded into the barrel and Troy’s finger was already on the trigger ready to pull.
Troy’s lips twisted into a grin against his and he pulled away just in time for him to hear them speak the words, “Take it back.”
“What?” Nick spat, brain crash landing on earth, thrust back into reality. His eyes blinked open, and he was greeted by Troy’s malicious smirk. Nick shoved away from him with a grunt, lips fluttering like he couldn’t find the right words as they knotted up his tongue.
“Take it back. I’m no cheat.”
“What the fuck Troy, you’re literally cheating right now!” Exasperated and embarrassed, Nick stormed away from him, not wanting to risk Troy seeing the pink tinting his cheeks. “I don’t even know why I followed you in here. Fuck you, and your stupid shitty games.”
Troy’s laughter filled the vacant store room, mocking him from every angle.
“It’s only cheating if it worked, Nicky!” Troy called after him. “Otherwise, it’s just failure by design.”
If you remember being a teenager you're a creep because you straight up saw yourself naked back then. The only way to be righteous is to obliterate your mind with drugs until you can't remember anything
Four hundred and eighty seven blades of grass. That’s how many Nick counted from where he sat on the park bench. Each green wisp a continuous, rippling surface of parallel veins taking in the sunlight like a drug. A novelty of the good stuff, but they didn’t know any better. It was just grass, after all. They feasted on the rays, the warmth, the shine; siphoning the brilliance of the day time sky. The grass exhaled a sigh of relief, giving birth to the oxygen that Nicks lungs could not seem to find. The scream of new life could not be heard over the frantic pounding of his desperate heart quaking in his chest. The only thing he had to fill up the rivets and cracks was a silent rage and a pathetic yearning to still be loved after he was gone.
Nick had the overbearing urge to gnaw. To sink his teeth in and chew on the umbilical cord that tethered him to this lifetime. If he closed his eyes, he could feel the elixir of life gush between his molars and seep down his chin. Two rivers parted ways at his throat, one that gleamed a hopeless past, and another that screamed its lungs dry into a ravenous future.
Disgrace. Monster. There was a monster within the confines of this wallpaper flesh. The electric in this home one faulty wire away from burning the whole place to the ground.
“Hey Nicky?”
The sound of his name banging against his eardrums was the screech of old tires braking on asphalt, bursting at the seam. Burnt rubber shred to small bits imbedded into the tissue of tobacco stained gums like shards of broken glass.
“We gotta go.”
Nicks neck snapped up and his eyes landed on a beautiful plush pink mouth. It reminded him of warm laundry and better days.
His head bobbed around reminiscent of a nod. Troy. Sandy blonde hair and ocean blue eyes, all wrapped up in cream colored skin. His only excuse to live and his first reason to die. He had become Troy’s own personal worry stone in the last sixteen hours since the bite marred his skin. His thumb wore a groove so deep into Nick’s soul that he was sure it was mere hours away from becoming a thin billow of smoke carried off by the wind.
“I’ve got you,” Troy muttered as he slipped his arm around Nick’s back, helping to ease him into the truck. When did they cross the field? Was he not just sitting on a bench? “Atta boy, Nicky.”
Troy reached across his lap, buckling him into the passenger seat. His hair brushed the underside of Nicks jaw, making Nicks teeth itch with a dire need to bite. Troy’s eyes flickered up at him, his lips curled into a fond smirk.
“Not yet, but soon. I promise,” Troy said quietly, then gently ran his hand over Nicks blood matted hair.
The sound of Troy’s voice poured through his ears like warm milk, flooding his brain with a nurturing familiarity. The need to bite through Troy’s neck evaporated into a flock of butterflies frantically circling his stomach and fluttering up into his chest.
Release.
The word twinkled in his mind like a starlit sky. It danced behind his eyes as he blinked back the sign staring at him from across a vast, empty night of endless horrors.
No Exit.
He tried to speak. Tried to be sarcastic and scoff a breath in Troys direction as he slid into the drivers seat, but the only noise that clawed its way up his throat was radio static. A garbled damp thing wrapped in razor wire and suffocation. A heat drifted between his chapped lips as his tongue fought a war with his teeth. A whisper scraped along his larynx and for a moment he thought it might be love.
“Not much longer now Nicky, save your strength,” Troy cooed into the windshield, fogging up the glass. Was it day time or has he finally been plagued with permanent night?
His stomach growled, a feral thing trapped behind his abdomen, dripping with bile and acid, but unable to be digested. This hunger could not be satiated with a meal. There was no recipe that could curb the ache of his starvation. There was only Troy. With his curls and his smile and his desperate need to touch and be touched. Memories flashed in his mind like an old broken reel of film that had been taped back together by quick, anxious hands.
“Do you only love me because I am a monster, Troy?”
He heard himself recite the past with hopeful, trembling need. Fingers prodded at his ribs, counting the bars of its cage one, two, three.
“No.” Troy answered with the utmost confidence. “I love you because I am.”
The film reel skipped, lips pressed and hands searched for curves to caress. Fingers tangled in dirty hair clumped together with secrets and so much longing.
“Monsters are supposed to live under beds and in dreams and at the tip of a needle shared with someone half as lost as you are.”
Was that his voice? He did not know. The sound of it was foreign now. The heat boiled inside of him as if his organs were going to erupt like a volcano. He would be discarded along with the truck, a slumped over shell left to stain the passenger seat.
“Five more minutes, I swear,” Troy said. He smiled at him, only an arms length and a chasm full of relentless hunger between them.
Nicks stomach growled again, but this time he reached across the cab. His fingers brushed the fabric of Troy’s forest green jacket. He was there and gone and there and gone like the fuse box powering his mind could not afford to keep the lights on.
Troy grabbed his hands, pressing his cracked lips to a set of dirty knuckles. Teeth clacked and he thought he felt his jaw hinge grow rusty. It wheezed, tired and slow. Troy grinned, breathing out a careless laugh, and squeezed the tips of Nicks fingers.
“Hungry, Nicky?” Troy nipped at Nicks thumb, the tip of his tongue pressed against the pad, but all Nick could focus on was the grime and dried blood beneath his fingernails. “Oh baby, I bet you’re starving.”
Baby.
The monster yawned and stretched its aching limbs beneath the warm, wet sarcophagus where it had once lived behind locks made of straw and thread bare scraps of melancholy. Time was a bear trap, waiting waiting waiting to sink its metal fangs into the first unfortunate soul foolish enough to try to stuff the sand back into the sharp mouth of a broken hour glass.
“Look at me.”
Troy stood to his right, framed by the open truck door. His arms slid behind Nicks knees and around his back as he lifted him from the seat. Nicks head lolled against Troy’s shoulder for six, seven, eight steps. Then the firm, muscled grip anchoring him to this world relaxed. He placed Nick down in a bed of wild flowers, resting his head on a cloud of uncertainty. Troy’s throat was so close, but Nicks tongue was a dried piece of jerky stuck to the roof of his mouth. It wriggled and lapped at the air between them, dying for a taste of the man that once called him home.
“You are safe.”
He remembered the way Troy looked at him that day. A bargain, a plea. Lips pressed to his shoulder, limbs so tangled up even God couldn’t undo the thorny knot they’d become.
“I am home.”
Nick was not expecting him to say that. He never expected much when it came to Troy. Nothing past a glance or a grin or an unquenchable thirst for something that could never be found.
Home
Nicks head turned at the sound of Troy’s voice. Solid. A foundation to build something on or a grave to be dug, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that there was no world in which he did not turn his head to that sound. There was no timeline where his eyes would not trace the curve of his nose or the manic smile lines that webbed out from his perfect plush mouth. The pink of Troy’s lips always reminded him of the evening setting sun, right before it tucked itself in behind the horizon for the night.
“You can let go now, Nicky,” Troy said. The flowers shifted beside him and their color grew brighter. “You don’t have to fight it anymore.”
Troy smiled at him as their eyes locked. A pathetic rasp barreled its way up Nicks throat as his lungs collapsed within his chest. When was the last time they cried for air? One, maybe two hours gone? Again, Nick reached for him over the gaping abyss, greeted by Troy’s willing sacrifice. Two ships crashing in the night. That had always been what they were. A collision of two souls stumbling about the darkness. Now, they were not lost. Now, they were exactly where they wanted to be.
Home
Nicks mangled maw of soot and ash and burning teeth climbed toward the sun, the tips of his fingers curled into long, slender, claw-like cruelty as they wrapped around Troy’s throat and squeezed. Those two pools of ocean blue circled the drain. Around and around. Something flashed through the waters. They recognized their demise like seeing an old friend. Excitement? Resentment? Nick couldn’t think over the throbbing vein, pumping blood to Troy’s brain among other places.
“Take me home, Nicky,” Troy begged as he craned his head up to kiss him one last time. His lips tasted stale, but his mouth watered with desire and greed. He pulled away, looking deep into the empty tomb of Nicks eyes. “I want to go home.”
The growl rattled through his chest and blossomed on his tongue, puttering out of his mouth, an old engine running on fumes. His lips found Troy’s throat like they always had, fitting perfectly around that fluttering pulse below his jaw as if they were destined to be there. He bit down and the skin gave so easily. It was all so simple now. He chewed and he feasted on the flesh, on the offering of the most pure and raw love he’d ever known. Together they would go further than forever.
A chorus of ‘I want to go home’ sang from Troy’s mouth in a guttural crescendo of anguish as he threaded the fingers of his left hand through Nicks hair, and wrapped the other around his back, holding him to his chest. Nick ripped through Troy’s trachea, his mouth so full of blood that he was sure he would drown in. Troy clutched the past to his chest as he thrashed through the pain of his decision. He would be with him always, he was determined to feed the flames of his self destruction one last meal.
Time slowed, as did Troy’s breathing, until his heart stopped trying to contain all the love he was so willing to give but never take.
Troy’s esophagus snapped like a rubber band too far stretched as Nick dragged it from his throat with his teeth. He stared down at Troy’s face, motionless as he watched his eyes flicker back to life inside their sockets. Blood and spongey soft palate tissue oozed past Nick’s lips as he stared.
A low, wet vibration slithered along Troy’s tongue. He glowered up at Nick, but he did not look directly at him. Now, his gaze was forever lost somewhere in the space between atoms.
Aiming to have the final chapter of my Famous actor Sirius/ Hotel clerk Remus fic up TOMORROW! (It should have been up already but I’ve been excessively watching fear the walking dead instead of writing lmao)
BUT UNTIL THEN! Here are the first six chapters of my fluffy little fic!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Just added this link to my pinned post as well- But if you can all share this and help push it out and/or donate if at all possible I would be SO so grateful. If you send me proof of a donation too I’ll draw you something, ranging from doodles to fully rendered pieces depending on the amount donated. Thanks <3
My name is Adrian, and I’m trying to afford top surgery. I’m a trans man from the south and… Arcturus A needs your support for Help Arcturus
Tagging my mooties- if yall could help share this I’d greatly appreciate it <33
Just posted this on my insta, and posted an update on the gofundme. If yall can help share this again I’d appreciate it tons! Anything you can do to get this seen or give to the campaign is deeply appreciated- thanks!
I can also have commissions open (pictures below the tags) I can do doodles and full pieces, even traditional art, little comics, ship art, oc art, if I can draw it I will! And since this is more emergency commissions they don’t cost a lot! (More below the cut)
