#( . his Real (stressed) Dad

[shroomerr]

minor spoilers for @mantequillamcwhoremick ‘s fic Chaos Plan, Chapter 20!!

How I pictured that one moment in chapter 20 when Kenny spotted Kyle and Stan

[vee-is-a-clown]

Do you guys think that when Keith first stepped foot into his dad's old house in Texas, he smelled the house again for the first time in years and cried? That he hadn't known that specific smell in so long, it felt alien to him? Maybe even nauseating?

Do you guys ever wonder if Keith had been entrusted with a house key before his dad died? Did he manage to keep it all those years? Or maybe he had to search for the spare key hidden somewhere Keith didn't remember? What if he had to pick the lock? Or break in? Did he have to break into his own house like a common criminal?

Do you guys ever think about the food that likely passed its expiration date while Keith was away? Or maybe if his dad's friends had cleaned the place out of trash and perishables? Had they ever anticipated Keith coming back? Did they even think Keith would remember his house? His father?

Do you guys ever ponder how Keith treated his father's belongings? Did he leave them untouched? Or did he riffle through them for something, anything that could be a clue about the weird energy that was calling to him? Did he feel uncomfortable going into his father's room? Did he ever keep anything of his father's as a memento? Did he feel uncomfortable with Shiro wearing his father's clothes?

Do you guys maybe ever think about if Keith cleaned his father's grave? Did he ever pay his respects? Or had he ignored the glaring reminder that his father was dead and everything in the house Keith was staying in was borrowed from him?

I think about it. I've been thinking about it a lot these past few weeks.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

I'm looking at the Zora May prompts and wanna write stuff, and now my brain's just giggling with ideas LOL like--

Imagine, after Age of Calamity, that Link and Mipha get together. That has its whole set of fun and drama - a Hylian/Zora marriage would mean a lot anyway, but particularly when it's the Zora princess and the Hero of Hyrule. Link and Mipha start to have a family, Zelda is settling into being queen, and they all have their own set of stressors and joys and the three are still besties and it would be just so funny to see y'all. Like... Link takes his oath as a knight seriously, so he still assists Hyrule often, and just this scenario in my head came and--

Zelda, sighing: I hardly slept last night. I was up late researching the latest Zonai discoveries and almost forgot I had a meeting with the Rito delegation this morning. I'm so tired.

Link, hair a mess, on his third cup of coffee after dealing with one of his kids having a meltdown while the other kept everyone up crying all night, dealing with Mipha also trying to do royal duties, having just teleported over here via Sheikah towers: .....That sounds rough.

[uchiha-gaeshi]

I would never wish growing up in a hyper religious African house on my worst enemy. The cognitive dissonance is insane especially if you grow up in the West yet your family (and other African families around you) insist on clinging on to asinine “traditions” that are really just covers for abuse.

[blackjackkent]

.

[skysaunter]

tfw u have so many alt. / canon div. verses u get them completely mixed up and u look at ur writing partner like what and ur partner looks back at u like w h a t 💀

[brinehater]

[hungriesttable]

if I had a nickel for every time I read a random shonen jump series with an autistic MC who I was NOT expecting at all I would have two nickels. which is not a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice (should happen more)

[wizardofgoodfortune]

Gonna go ahead and ask you #58 on your Spotify wrapped while I'm thinking about it

#58 on my top songs is mirrorball by taylor swift! this is definitely one of my fav songs from her, if not The Favorite; a vivid music video plays out in my head every time i listen to it. here's my favorite part from it, which can definitely lend itself to particular dreamling scenarios... like 1989.

And they called off the circus, burned the disco down When they sent home the horses and the rodeo clowns I'm still on that tightrope I'm still trying everything to get you laughing at me I'm still a believer but I don't know why I've never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try I'm still on that trapeze I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me

---

When his stranger didn't show up in 1989, Hob spent the whole day waiting for him. The whole night, too. He heard the last call but stayed long after, until the bartender—Ian was his name, Hob learned at one point—had to kick him out so they could lock up. To Ian's credit, he did it with his most apologetic face.

"Sorry, Hob," Ian said as he locked up the front door of the tavern. "Feel free to come back 'round tomorrow. Promise the place'll still be here by then."

Hob, who was hovering listlessly beside him, gave him a smile. "You'll regret you said that."

Ian laughed. "I'll never regret having more regulars. God knows we need it."

Hob frowned. Right. He nearly forgot about that.

"Need a lift?" Ian offered, fishing out a different set of keys from inside his pockets. "You've drunk quite a lot."

"I'm fine, I just need to—" Hob took a deep breath, "—I need to walk it off."

Ian narrowed his eyes. "Sure? I better not read about you in the papers tomorrow."

Hob snorted. "Trust me, you won't."

With that, Hob stood in front of the tavern and watched Ian drive off, until the old man rounded a corner and disappeared.

Now that he was alone, Hob slumped down on the damp ground and leaned against the front door. They've probably replaced this door more times than he could count, along with the rest of the tavern. Century after century, Hob saw less and less of what used to be here 600 years ago: the chairs, the tables, the mugs, the godawful drinks. The closest thing to permanence this tavern had was its name, and, up until tonight, his stranger. And soon, it wouldn't even have itself.

Hob reached into his coat pocket and took out his lighter and a carton of cigarettes. As he watched London's everchanging skyline glitter above the Thames, he lit a cigarette, the orange of it glowing in the dark. He sat there, waiting, waiting, waiting. He was good at that, at waiting. All you had to have for waiting was time, and Hob had it in abundance. So he waited until the sun rose, until the streets came alive with cars and people, until Ian came back to open up.

"Oi, what happened to walking it off?!" Ian exclaimed, standing over Hob, shielding him from the noon sun. "Bloody hell. C'mon now. Up you go."

Hob let himself be corralled into the tavern's small office and be sat at the small couch that was probably meant for interviews and terminations. He drank the water and aspirin placed in front of him, and he wore the spare shirt lent to him, but he left Ian's questions unanswered.

"Y'know," Hob started as soon as Ian came back in from the bar, "I reckon I could do a good job running a tavern."

"You should be asleep," Ian said accusatorily.

Maybe he should've been. But instead, Hob was sitting upright, wide awake. "I've been in countless taverns, just like this," he continued, "and I reckon I could make a great one. It would be so great that people from all over the world would come to eat and drink there, and say, 'Hey look, it's Hob's tavern, the greatest one around!' And d'you know what the best part about it would be?"

Ian sighed and leaned on his desk. "What?"

"It would be so great that they'd never close it down. They wouldn't be able to. Everyone would rally around it, even the council. And it'd be there for, for centuries. No, millennia. No, forever."

Ian shook his head, smiling. "A beautiful dream."

"A dream?" Hob scrunched his eyebrows. "You don't believe me?"

"Hob, this tavern has been here for centuries. That's a pretty good run, I'd say. Before that, it might've been something else, like a house, or a barn, or something. And before that, it was probably an empty plot of land, or maybe it was full of trees. Maybe bloody dinosaurs lived and died here. Or maybe it was underwater, I dunno. But I'm getting away from the point," Ian said, scratching his scraggly beard. "The point is: things change. That's life."

Suddenly, Hob was reminded of that night a hundred years ago, how his stranger detested the implication that he changed, that he grew to be lonely, lonely enough to seek out companionship. Hob's companionship. Obviously he detested the implication enough to not show up yesterday. But maybe, just maybe, his stranger will show up again today or the next day, just to prove a point, just to say he didn't need him to be his friend, and to say goodbye for the last time. Surely his stranger's not cruel enough to not show up at all, right?

"I, I know, but I can't let this place change, at least not yet," Hob said. His desperation must've plain on his face from the way Ian smiled sadly at him.

"And why's that?"

"My friend and I," Hob paused, thinking about what to say, "this place is important to us."

"You can always find another place."

"He won't," Hob said, voice breaking, "he won't be able to find me."

"How sure are you that he won't?"

Hob put his head into his hands. "I'm sure."

"You don't have his number?"

Hob shook his head.

Ian sighed. "Well, like I said last night, you'll need a lot of money to—"

"I have the money," Hob blurted out.

"What's that?"

"I," Hob repeated, raising his head in realization, "I have the money."

Ian only looked at him.

"I can, I can keep this place alive until he comes back."

Ian regarded him wordlessly for a few more seconds, then said, "I appreciate the thought, I do, but I reckon you can just establish a new one and it'll be less expensive. You can always, I dunno, put up some signs. 'This way to the new tavern' or something. Then when your friend comes around, they'll just read your sign and go to the new tavern."

Hob stared at Ian, mouth hanging open. Then he laughed, feeling a sleep-deprived lightness in his chest. He stood up and held Ian by his shoulders, still smiling. "Ian, you're a genius."

Ian chuckled heartily. "I try."

"And you're a hired genius."

"Pardon?"

"I'll need a bartender for the new tavern," Hob said, grinning.

Ian scoffed in disbelief, but he was smiling. "And what'll you name it?"

Hob thought for a second, then settled on: "The New Tavern."

Ian chortled. "You need sleep. Dearly."

---

send me a number and i'll write something based on the corresponding song in my spotify wrapped!

[glass-trash-bab]

Augh I love my dnd character so much. I love him so much. And I love all the characters from his backstory that the rest of the party doesn't know yet.

I have so much love for them and I can't even form a coherent thought.

Also hi mutuals I'm sorry I haven't posted shit all yeah. I'm knee-deep in this dnd hyperfixation and almost everything I'm drawing is revolving around that.

[i-am-a-secret-ssshhh]

My dad: We've gotta talk.

Me, and my younger brother, side-eyeing each other: *Has gained condition: Scared*

....

Me, whispering, later: Is he talking to me?

My younger brother, also whispering: I thought he was talking to me.

Me: He's probably talking to me.

Him: But he could be talking to me.

Me: I don't wanna talk to him.

Him: I don't either!

....

*The next day*

My younger: I think he's going to try to make me go on a walk with the dogs with him, so I'll take a shower to avoid that.

Me: No! I was going to take a shower to avoid that!

Him: We obviously can't both shower in time to avoid that!

Me: Clearly, but it's the best option!

....

*Later, when our dad is at the store*

Me: I have an idea.

My younger brother: What?

Me: Strength in numbers.

Him, looking between me and the anime on the living room TV: In... what context?

Me: Neither of us leave the other alone with dad.

Him: Oh!

Me: So that way he can't get us alone to lecture us!

Him: And if he makes me go on a walk, you go with me.

Me: And if he makes me go on a walk, you go with me.

Him: Obviously.

Us: *High fives*

.....

*later*

My dad, after we outlast him in not being tired: (my name) I still need to have that talk with you.

Me, panicking: *Looks to younger brother*

Him: *sighing in relief that it isn't him*

Him, after my dad leaves the room, whispering: Strength in numbers.

Me: Strength in numbers isn't gonna work if he's going to find a way to single me out.

Him: We'll find a way!

[lover-of-mine]

This is so funny to see you go from a post saying "he didn't get to pick his apartment, let him do something for himself" to a post saying "let's give him a baby he wasn't expecting" 😂😂

The thing I need you to know is I have 5 (I think I'm at 5 right now) main speculations for the season going around in my head at all times, they all lead to different minor speculations, and they all contradict each other kapakapkapakapa. And to be honest I don't want Buck to get the baby. I hate the idea of him getting that baby. BUT looking at the baby for storytelling possibilities, that baby can absolutely be a roundabout way to give Buck a child who's biologically his without giving him a partner, and it is something that the show has ready to go and could happen at any time. I don't think it will happen, at least not in season 7, because Hen is already getting a baby and dealing with babies and filming is complicated and it could be repetitive to have that happen to Hen and Buck at the same time, and also because I think it would make more sense to give Buck a toddler not a newborn, so that would be something for the show to pick back up in season 9 or whatever. And I want Buck to do something for himself more than I want him to get a baby lol. But if I'm thinking about the show and picking up loose ends, Buck could absolutely accidentally acquire a baby from now on at any time, killing Connor and Kameron is always gonna be a possibility, so that's a speculation that randomly goes through my head lol. Like, sometimes I go too deep thinking about something that would lead Buck to change in some way or just create a random conflict and I'm completely ignoring the donor plot and then my brain goes "Buck has a child out in the world" and I need to bring it into the conversation with my kitchen utensils.

[jonny-versace]

I love how everybody with two functional brain cells knows Bruno is gay and Bruno is like "??? How could they possibly know? Anyway I'm going to dance class to blow off some steam and pine over clearly being in love with my friend"

[mishkakagehishka]

Me when i dream of lil Mika but it's another nightmare

[h0neyfreak]

….

[ssaalexblake]

The thing about getting to hop to the top of a medical waiting list is that yay! You don't have to wait. But. When you're hopping a year long wait to a four day wait you know something's dangerously fucked up 🙃

It's like being seen first in accident and emergency. You know that's a sign you're kinda fucked even though you don't have to suffer four hours sat in a waiting room.