#(oh god that just reminded me of something)

[sugar-grigri]

Pochita, if you can read, why don't you speak ?

Wouldn't it be humane to protect humanity and demonic to protect the underworld? And what if... it was actually the other way around.

The interweaving of questions and answers is exactly what this chapter does.

While Yoru sordidly states that children are nothing more than the property of their parents, the one who can't speak, instead of devouring a human as he did with all those demons, decides to go to the blood drive.

Pochita understood what the sign meant. He knows how to talk. But he'd rather hold up that sign and roar than make any demands.

Worse still, he does not decide to give any orders.

It's not words that symbolise order, it's that raised index finger that already in Roman times expressed command.

In the United States, arms are a constitutional right (as recently reiterated by the Supreme Court, which does not admit of any restrictions), a fundamental freedom but also a means of preserving one's freedom, allowing organised militias to fight and protect the State.

You can see how it's all a construction, the weapons are a technological creation, the State is an administrative and political creation.

And that's where things get interesting. First of all, this chapter is highly symbolic and has a very strong political message (oh my god, political interpretation in a manga, impossible..........)

Yoru has sliced off the index fingers of those who support the right to bear arms in the United States. Or campaign for that freedom. But what Yoru is doing. In fact, it's taking it away from them. How can I shoot without this index finger? You can't do it.

It's by taking weapons away from men that they actually regain their freedom.

But it goes even further than that. Why does Yoru sacrifice these fingers? Because it reinforces the fear of weapons. Let's say I point a gun at you (sorry). You'd be less scared if you were as armed as I am. Especially when you're trained, know how to defend yourself and aren't afraid to shoot.

Yoru makes those who thought they were invincible with weapons vulnerable. She strengthens the Gun Devil's power. She contracts with them through her sacrificed child.

Weapons,

freedom,

deprivation of childhood,

of loved ones,

obsession with a mentor,

To think that a god created them.

Remind you of anyone?

Infanticide is what makes you immortal.

The sacrificed demons become weapons, lost between humanity and the demons. Not being human, nor demon, because they have no parents. Even artificial weapons like Reze and Katana display these characteristics. Isn't loneliness one of the ingredients?

Humanity sacrifices its children. As Fujimoto confirmed, they were prepared to do it for eternal youth.

And now you're going to say to me. NOOOO! Yoru too! Just as Makima wouldn't hesitate to do. The demons are also ready to do it.

Yes, because they are influenced by men.

Yoru speaks, uniting with humanity to say horrible things. Whereas Pochita doesn't speak. Worse still, he has chosen not to speak. Worst of the worst, even worse. He'd rather be a dog than a human. That's his choice.

Pochita fights for those he loves, he doesn't sacrifice them.

The demon of birth, it swallows but can spit out. Suspending existence, giving it new life, denying none of it.

Wasn't Makima devoured by Denji proof of this?

Nayuta is the symbol of this rebirth. A perpetual love that surpasses hate.

Pochita loves demons. He also loves those who mean something to him, like Denji. But he also knows that when we become too human, we can end up sacrificing ourselves out of vanity rather than love.

Pochita has sacrificed himself for love, without expecting anything in return as he waits permanently for Denji's dreams.

He is also Denji's lock, preventing him from fully adapting to men.

That's why killing Black CSM was Denji's wish come true. Because Pochita is preventing Denji from becoming normal.

Because he wants to protect him from humanity. Pochita has never been for humanity.

He is simply the guardian of the underworld, all those demons whose existence he guards, a supreme mother. Humanity must endure in order to continue to be afraid. But if humanity is prepared to overcome the ultimate fear of losing its child, then fear is scorned.

So Pochita tried to wipe out the weapons' existence, to devour them. But they still existed. Why? Because they are already the result of infanticide.

being devoured by the demon of birth, mother of the underworld, actually reinforces their existence.

Being devoured by their mother is the reason for their nature.

Whereas weapons are beings born because their mother has killed them.

Denji is the result of the death of the Supreme Mother.

It's not a weapon.

He's a wall.

Hero of the underworld.

A hero of the underworld who has been fighting from the start for the victory of love, sacrificing himself for those he loves and not sacrificing them. So he asks for blood.

And I'm sorry. If weapons really are born like that, they have to look human, and I think this is the last possessed human.

Someone's been ringing the doorbell.....for 100 chapters… it's time to answer it, isn't it?

[dr-spectre]

I haven't been able to stop thinking about Rainbow Color Inkantation because oh my god this song is so damn hype and cool.

Like... okay, it's not the best Calamari Inkantation we've gotten but it's still incredibly good, at least in my opinion I think its good. 3Mix still beats it in my mind but this song is a STRONG second place.

This song perfectly captures Splatoon 3 to me, it's chaotic, loud, in your face, it celebrates the past, acknowledges the present and has a futuristic edge.

It's so damn blood pumping and adrenaline inducing as each Idol battles for attention and control. It's what you want in a song that's used for the final day of the Grand Festival. It's literally NOW OR NEVER! GO! GO! GO! THIS IS IT!!!

The Idol specific parts when you get the Ultra Signals are my favourite sections of the song, it's SOOOO GOOOOOOODDDDD!!!!! UGHHHH!!!!!! The Squid Sister's section is so sweet, happy and cute as they play the song that they were announced with 9 years ago. Further cementing that their arcs from Splatoon 1 have been finally completed. They sing together in this incredibly harmonized way... It's... it's beautiful...

Off the Hook's section feels so hopeful and inspirational, it feels like Pearl and Marina are just singing to each other and expressing their love for each other... I can imagine Marina hugging Pearl and spinning her around as they sing Ebb & Flow...

Deep Cut's part is pure fucking hype! I LOVE ITTTTT!!!!!!!! I love how they sing something completely original it's so sick man. THEIR CHEERS AND "HA! HA! HA!" So good oh my friggen god bro. Just like the team they represented, their section gives me hope that these three cheeky bandits will continue on and keep making bangers.

I wish i was an expert in music to better explain why i really like this song but alas, i ain't no Anthony Fantano....

I also wanna end off by talking about the final 10 seconds...

Oh. My God. Out of all of the Now or Nevers we've had, those final 10 seconds is my favorite ending to a Now or Never like song... EVER! It just pumps you with so much adrenaline, it's like the song stabbed you with 2 EpiPens in your ear drums. It's so anxiety inducing that you could make a crowd at a rave faint right there and then.

Seriously, go listen to the full 7 minute version of the song if you haven't already, it's pure magic i tell you.

Also, i headcanon that these three helped with the production of the song.

Some of parts of the song reminded me a lot of DJ Octavio's signature style and i think it would be cute if him, Captain 3 and Acht helped with the production of the song.

[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

My hand is resting on Ash’s chest as we lie together in comfortable silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts. The quiet is soothing and I’m grateful he doesn’t feel the need to fill it with conversation, that we can just be here together.

Slowly, I begin tracing my fingers lightly across his collarbone, then up his arm stretched over his head, and back again. He closes his eyes and smiles contentedly, so I continue, brushing my fingertips back across his chest and down his abdomen.

His skin is so soft and pale, it reminds me of the flowering dogwoods that would bloom in spring at the park near the house where I grew up. I read about them in school once and became fascinated by them. I would sit in the grass underneath them and run my fingers along the white petal-like blossoms, examining the tiny flowers at their center.

I make a mental note to tell Ash about them sometime. I bet he’d love them, want to study them and draw them.

The velvety texture of his skin is contrasted by a coarse trail of jet-black hair. I follow the trail down, stopping as my hand grazes past two small scars low on his belly, just inside his hips. “What are these from?” I ask.

He glances down briefly and then rests his head back, “They’re from a hysterectomy.”

“Oh. So, you can’t—?”

“Mm-mm, you can’t get me pregnant or anything.”

“Good to know. So, if you want kids one day, you’d just have to adopt?”

“Not necessarily. I had my eggs frozen, just in case. So, I could have a biological child, I’d just need a surrogate.”

“Really? Do you think you’ll do it? Have kids?”

“Oh, god, I don’t know. I had them stored for ten years, so I have plenty of time to decide. It’s not really something I’m worried about right now.”

“Makes sense,” I whisper as my hand resumes its journey, brushing my fingertips up and down one thigh and then the other before making my way back up again, all the way up to his face, turning it gently toward me. When he opens his eyes again, before I can stop myself, I say, “Ash, you’re perfect, you know that?”

His eyebrows stitch together in a pained expression, “Atlas…”

I know. I know it’s not fair. I can’t say things like that if we’re “just friends”. He doesn’t have to tell me. It’s written all over his face. But look at us, we’ve already crossed so many lines tonight that the walls I’d built up are crumbling around me, and I’m not ready to put them back. Not yet. Not tonight. So, even if I shouldn’t, I have to ask, “Will you stay? Will you sleep here tonight?”

Putting his arms around me, he smiles, “Yeah, of course I’ll stay.”

“Thank you,” I exhale, relieved. "Can I get you anything? Do you want some water?"

“Yes, actually, that would be amazing.”

“Okay, I’ll go get some.”

“Thanks. And, um, can I use your bathroom?”

“Yeah, it’s just out the door to your left.”

In the kitchen, I drink down a large glass of water in one breath, practically gasping by the time I finish it. As I refill it, along with a second glass for Ash, I turn my head slightly to smell myself… just in case. Thankfully, I don’t stink yet, but I’ve accumulated enough layers of sweat throughout the night that I’m certain I’ll be ripe by morning.

I glance at the bathroom door, debating, wondering if it’s a step too far, too intimate, but decide to ask him anyway.

When the door opens, I walk over to meet him on his way out.  I hand him the glass of water and he drinks it nearly as quickly as I did. “Thank you,” he says, breathless.

“Are you tired?” I ask.

“Not really, why?”

“Do you want to take a shower with me?”

“That shower?” he points to the door he just came out of, “Is there even enough room for two people?”

“Not really,” I shake my head with a smile, knowing it’s ridiculous, but still hoping he says yes.

He considers for a moment, searching my face as if he’s waiting for me to tell him I’m joking. When I don’t, he replies with a shrug, “Fuck it, sure.”

Some find it strange, but I enjoy showering with people. It’s intimate in its own way. I mean, aside from the obvious, like being naked in a small space not really meant for two people, placing hands on an arm or waist or back as we maneuver around each other. That has its own pleasures too, of course, but I like getting a glimpse into people’s routines, their daily habits. All those little things that no one else notices, or pays attention to, or has the privilege of witnessing. Like the way Ash never puts his face under the water. He tips his head back to rinse it, gets right up to the hairline, but no farther, ensuring gravity prevents the water from running down over his face.

When I ask him why, he says, “I don’t like it. It makes me feel like I’m drowning.” And then I understand. I remember the story he told me about nearly drowning in the ocean, how he was caught in the undertow when he was a child, how he would have died if it wasn’t for his mother.

We laugh as we awkwardly squeeze past each other, trading places so I can rinse my hair. As I stand under the water and close my eyes, I feel him place his hands gently on my abdomen, slowly tracing the lines of the muscle just below the surface with his fingertips. “Jesus, look at you,” he says, “maybe I should take up rock climbing.”

I let out a small laugh, “It’s fun. I could teach you.”

“Nah, I don’t think it’s for me. It’s a shame you ever have to put clothes on, though.”

“Not tonight, I don’t.” I shut off the water quickly and then turn back to him, “I won’t if you won’t.”

“Deal.” He answers a little too quickly, and then adds, “Not that I have anything to wear anyway.”

“I would’ve given you something if you wanted. Too late now, though.”

He laughs as I hop out to grab a couple of towels.

After drying off, I walk over to the sink and grab a fresh toothbrush from the cabinet below. It’s brand new and still in the package. I hold it up to show it to him and then set it on the counter, “If you want,” I say before grabbing my own toothbrush and running it under the water.

He picks it up and raises his eyebrows a me, “You do this often enough that you keep these on hand, huh?”

I shake my head to reassure him, “No, they’re Dawn’s. She’s super weird about brushing her teeth all the time. She’s almost always carrying one around. There’s like ten of them down there, she won’t care if you take one.”

“Thank you,” he says sincerely as he opens the package and discards it in the trash. He squeezes toothpaste along the bristles, but then stops and looks up at me.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing. You’re just… you’re really nice.” I can’t quite read the expression on his face when he says this, it’s almost as if the sentiment makes him sad.

In a pitiful attempt to lighten the mood, I tell him, “Well, if it makes you feel any better, it’s purely selfish.”

He gives me a small smile, “Oh yeah? My breath is that bad?”

“No, I just want you to be comfortable. Because the more comfortable you are, the longer you’ll stay.” Instinctually, I lean over and kiss his forehead. I don’t know why, it just felt natural to do so, like I’d done it a hundred times before. As soon as my lips graze his skin, I know that I have. I see it. Many times, in many different places I don’t recognize. On a couch or in a bed or even standing on a beach. It feels so real that it takes me aback.  I pull away and he looks up at me with that same look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, knowing now what’s making him sad. I’m not acting like a friend; I’m acting like a boyfriend. And we both know I can’t give him that. Though, I’m starting to have trouble remembering why. Seems like it’s taking more effort not to. “We should get some sleep,” I say, suddenly feeling exhausted.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute,” he replies, and then turns away to brush his teeth.

I put fresh glasses of water by the bed, turn off the lamp, and lie down, turning to face the wall because I don’t know what I’ll do if I’m facing him when he comes to bed. I don’t trust myself, and I feel like I’ve done enough damage already. He’s probably upset with me, and I wouldn’t blame him if he changed his mind and decided to leave.

I prepare myself for the worst when he finally comes in, but he surprises me by getting into bed, scooting over to me, and pressing his entire body against the length of mine. He wraps his arm around me and squeezes me tight, kissing the back of my shoulder. I don’t know why he’s chosen to be so sweet to me, but I’m grateful for it. I close my eyes and allow myself to relax into him as I drift off to sleep.

Prev // Next

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Musician Age Gap AU Pt 5

The shiny black car waiting for them at the curb is far more modest than Kara expects. Sure, the inside has a crystal decanter of something in the side console, but the outside at least is non-descript, almost subtle if not for its meticulously shined exterior.

Lena had thrown her hood up over her hair and placed oversized dark sunglasses on her nose when they exited the building, but they come off again as soon as the door shuts, enclosing them in the suddenly intimate space of the cab.

"So. Where to?" Lena asks.

"I thought you asked me on this date."

Lena's eyebrows rocket skyward, and Kara kicks herself at the slip. This isn't a date. But Lena responds before Kara can try to take it back.

"I don't get out much," comes Lena's blithe response. "And I'm technically a tourist, so. I figured a local like you would know the best joints in town."

Lena's smile is infectious, quickly pulling one to Kara's lips in turn. Kara thinks as the car pulls away from the curb, then leans forward to address the driver. "Can you take a left at the light and keep going until we hit 8th?"

The driver nods, and Kara sets herself to rummaging in her purse for her pen and something to write on. She finds the pen, but nothing so much as a receipt avails itself. With a huff of frustration, Kara thrusts first the pen, then her hand towards Lena.

"Write down your coffee order."

When Lena's lips turn down into a small frown, she continues.

"Noonan's is the best in National City, but the drawback is that everyone and their mother knows it. It's going to be packed. It'll be faster if I go in and order, and we take it elsewhere."

"Where?" Even as she asks, Lena takes the offered pen and starts to write on Kara's hand. Kara pretends that the touch of Lena's fingers on hers doesn't lift goosebumps to her skin.

"Maybe the park? It's nice out."

Lena smiles softly. "It is," she agrees. She caps the pen, but doesn't release Kara's hand. She instead dips her chin as though to kiss Kara's palm. Kara jumps when a stream of cool breath tickles her skin, drying the ink of Lena's order.

From the cheshire grin that flashes up at her, Lena knows exactly what she's doing.

"Sounds like a plan."

-‐-

The park is nice. The sun is warm on Kara's skin, though a breeze keeps it comfortable. And though its a little more crowded than Kara expected, Lena steps out of the car gamely. Up goes the hood, and on go the sunglasses.

It's not the best of disguises, Kara observes-- anyone would be able to spot that jawline from a mile away. But Lena seems to have made her choice as she retrieves her drink from the tray in Kara's hands. She also fishes a sticky bun from the paper bag Kara also holds.

"Oh my god," Lena moans as soon as the first bite hits her tongue. "This is amazing."

"You asked for the best," Kara reminds her with a hint of pride.

Lena hums again as she chews. "And by god did you deliver. Jeezus!"

Kara nibbles at her own treat, trying her best not to stare as the younger woman made short work of the sticky bun... and finished off by licking the sugary syrup left on her fingertips.

Catching her not-staring, Lena cocks another smile. "What?"

"What are we doing?"

Kara sets her bun down on the pastry bag on her lap, fidgeting in her seat. "I mean," she tries again. "Why me?"

Green eyes gaze at her, warm and engaged as Lena regards her. "Why not you?"

"I--" Kara stutters, suddenly unable to quantify her feelings of inadequacy. Her age is the first to spring to mind, but saying as much feels unnecessary-- Lena can perceive her age as well as anyone else, and clearly it hasn't deterred her.

What else could Kara say? That she's just an average private citizen, while Lena is the object of adoration for millions of people around the world?

That Kara feels like a nobody?

Or at least she did, until Lena started looking at her like *that*.

"You compel me."

Lena's voice is quiet, soft in the afternoon sun. Kara stares at her.

"Compel you? To do what?"

"To get to know you better," Lena replies. Her features smooth into an almost solemn expression. "When you stumbled in my dressing room last night, it was kind of refreshing, I guess."

Kara scoffs. "A random stranger tumbling into the room was refreshing?"

"No, that part was just surprising," Lena chuckles. Then her features soften. "But even after that... you didn't want anything from me."

Blinking in surprise, Kara's mouth opens to respond, but nothing comes out. Lena shrugs, her smile thinning a little.

"I love what I do and who I am, but... everyone wants something. My time, a picture, an autograph. An experience. You didn't."

Kara stares, still speechless. She hadn't given any thought to how she'd behaved that night. She'd just been frustrated and maybe a little mortified, and eager to get back to Esme. But from Lena's point of view she seemed almost... special.

"That," Lena continues, brightening once more, "and you're super hot."

Nearly choking on her own tongue, Kara coughs roughly in surprise before glaring at Lena.

"What?" the younger woman asks puckishly. "Is it truly that shocking? You've got mirrors, don't you?"

Kara takes a swig of her coffee to soothe her throat before responding. "That's not the word I usually hear."

"Oh?"

"More like... intimidating. Or tired. I get that one from my sister a lot."

Lena snorts. "Cowards the lot of them, then. Well, except for your sister. But rest are clearly too pussy to tell it like it is."

"Which would make you...?"

"Not chicken shit."

"Bold," Kara corrects her, but her tone lacks any real bite. It only makes Lena grin wider, which in turn sparks a smile of Kara's own.

Thankfully for Kara's fluttering heartbeat, Lena eases into a new topic. "So.... a sister, huh?"

Kara nods. "Esme's mom."

"Is it fun being the cool aunt?"

With a sigh, Kara shrugs. "Haven't had much time to be any kind of aunt, let alone a cool one."

"Well, you did take her to a super awesome show," Lena teases, tilting her head playfully.

"I did," Kara admits, but doesn't mention that it had been months since she'd last seen Esme prior. "But I got lucky that the performer was super nice about a whole lot of things."

A laugh answers her. "Happy to be of service."

A quiet moment passes between them. Soon, though, Kara realizes that Lena's features have turned pensive. She nudges the younger woman gently.

"What's on your mind?"

Lena blinks. "Oh. Um, I guess... I was thinking about my brother."

"I didn't know you had one," Kara says.

Okay, so mayyybe she had googled a little while waiting for Esme's phone to be delivered. She'd seen a bit of Lena's backstory-- signed to a label at age thirteen, managed by her mother, father passed when she was seven... but nothing about a brother.

Lena lifts a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. "Half brother. Kind of."

Kara waits, giving Lena room to continue if she wanted to. After a moment, she does.

"I guess I kind of caught the performing bug from him. He was in a band before I could even walk. He even taught me how to play the piano. Our mom even managed them at one one point, but when she decided I had potential, she couldn't manage us both. So, she chose."

She chose Lena. To Kara, it makes perfect sense. Having seen her on stage, the joy and the skill and now the sheer presence of Lena... of course anyone would drop everything to be what she needed.

But she can only imagine how it would feel to be the person left behind.

"He left the day I signed with my first label. I tried for years to get in touch with him, and still try on his birthday, but... I've never heard from." Lena sighs, eyes flicking self-consciously towards Kara. "For all I know, I could be an aunt myself by now."

She sniffs, quickly scrubbing the corner of her eye with the heel of her hand. "Jeez. I didn't mean to get so serious on a first date."

Kara can't bring herself to counter the claim of a first date. Whether Lena means it playfully or genuinely, something about Lena's eyes still sparkling with unshed tears makes her wholly unassailable.

Before either of them can say anything more, Kara's phone rings in her purse, and Lena's chimes in a half a moment later. They both tense, then dissolve into giggles, the somber mood ruined by the return of real life.

"I should get back to the office," Kara says. A glance at her phone screen, she confirms that it's Eve calling, no doubt frantic with another call from Mrs. Jasper.

Lena sighs. "Yeah. My mom is probably apoplectic. I was supposed to be at a meeting an hour ago."

Kara starts. "What?! Lena..."

"What're they gonna do, fire me?" Lena drawls. Even so, she rises and offers a hand up to Kara. Kara takes it, and doesn't protest when Lena keeps hold of it on the way back to the car. "Besides, it was worth it."

"For the sticky bun?"

"That too."

At the curb of Kara's office, Lena finally passes over Esme's phone. When Kara reaches to take it, Lena leans in and presses her lips to Kara's cheek.

Too stunned to move, or even speak, Kara hears Lena's murmur right down to her bones.

"Have dinner with me."

Kara blinks. "When?"

Not no? Not what the fuck? When.

"Why not tonight?" Lena retreats just enough to meet Kara's gaze, searching. "Tell me you don't feel this too."

Oh, Kara feels it. Low in her belly, hungry and desperate and *scared*.

"Lena..."

"Give us tonight," Lena continues, a touch breathless. "I fly out in the morning. You won't have to see me again. If you don't want to."

Kara gears up to refuse it all. The supposition, the unmistakeable desire. But in the end, her shoulders slump.

"I don't think not-wanting will be the problem."

Lena beams. "So yes?"

Kara exhales slowly. She nods. "Yes."

She hears Lena's breath catch, before Lena settles back in her seat. "Text me your address? I can send a car."

"That's not necessary..." Kara trails off when Lena grimaces to the contrary.

"It'll be easier," she says. "Trust me."

Kara nods. "Okay."

"Dress code is fancy." Lena winks. "Whatever that means to you."

Kara huffs a soft laugh. "That's helpful." Then, "I look forward to it."

To her surprise, a faint blush climbs up Lena's neck, settling in her cheeks.

"Me too."

[hypnautic-cereal]

A neighborly solar system

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Source for all the descriptions - 🪐

My apologies to y’all for the ramblings in the descriptions lol, if you guys just wanna know why I chose each planet, here you go

Sally Starlet - the sun: is it not obvious? /lh (I decided to not make Sally as bright as the sun, as to show some humbleness in her ego in comparison to her regular counterpart)

Eddie Dear - Mercury: Curiosity and a thirst for knowledge, as Eddie is also very intrigued by what his past life was like (lore drop on god⁉️). Also with the themes of communication and expression, it really reminded me of Eddie’s role as a mailman (or in this au, S P A C E C O W B O Y)

Wally Starling - Venus: As Wally is the newest member to our set of Wish Makers, I wanted to keep him as his creative and perpetually-in-love-with-everyone kind of self, and Venus had a lot more in common with him than I thought

We skip over Earth since no one fit Earth’s description

Poppy Partridge - the moon: Another obvious choice (also like Wally, the description for Earth’s Moon had more in common with Poppy than I thought!)

Barnaby B. Beagle - Mars: This one was honestly the hardest to try and figure out. I kind of had to think of it from Barnaby’s inspirations for this au, specifically with his game show kind of shtick

Also skip over Jupiter since no one fit its description either T-T

Frank Frankly - Saturn: I was simply reading Saturn’s description, and my mind just went “oh yeah, that’s just actually Frank”

Julie Joyful - Uranus: This one was also kind of difficult to place, so I also had to think of it from Julie’s perspective—she’s not afraid to break the rules, nor is she afraid to come up with her own rules

Howdy Pillar - Neptune: For this one I had to actually go to another website to get ideas from. With this variant of Howdy, I wanted to find something that fit both his capitalistic attributes as well as his soft dream-like aesthetic (he’s not as much of a capitalist in this au, but he still enjoys making some dough💸)

[strayrockette]

My Sunshine Girl: A Healing Home

Masterlist❤️Previous Part

Summary: Having Benny around changes things for the better.

Themes: Family drama, underlying grief, and finding comfort in your favorite person

A/n: I didn't realize I was writing in first person and by the time I noticed I was already too deep in the process 🤷‍♀️LMK if you wanna be part of a taglist for this series, or for all my works!!

The weeks following the fight at the bar were a blur of quiet days and slow healing. Benny had told me to stay home until the bruises and scrapes faded, though he never really explained why I needed to lay low or how he planned to smooth things over with the cops. I didn’t press him on it. I trusted him enough to just listen, even if the silence that came with being cooped up sometimes felt too heavy to bear.

I called my uncle to let him know I was taking a few weeks off, spinning some story about needing to clear out the attic and sort through old boxes that had been collecting dust since my childhood. It wasn’t a lie, exactly; the attic had been long overdue for a cleanout. But what I hadn’t expected was how many old memories would come flooding back during those quiet weeks at home.

Some days, the house felt haunted by the past—pictures of my mom tucked away in forgotten corners, trinkets from a time when life felt simpler. I’d find my old pookie bear, the one my ma had made me, and all at once, the grief would hit me hard, like no time had passed at all. I’d crumble under the weight of it, tears streaming down my face, and Benny would be right there, no questions asked. He didn’t pry when I broke down, didn’t push for explanations. He just wrapped his arms around me, letting me cry it out until the storm passed.

He was my buffer, my anchor, the one constant in a sea of emotions I wasn’t always prepared to deal with. And even on the hardest days, he made it easier just by being there.

But it wasn’t all sadness. Sometimes, between the dusting and sorting, we’d stumble onto something that would break the tension and remind me that joy still had a place in this old house. Like the day Benny found my middle school diary—tucked away in a box of yearbooks and scribbled notes, full of awkward confessions and childhood crushes. I was mortified, scrambling to snatch it out of his hands as he held it above his head, flipping through the pages with a devilish grin.

“Number one: Mr. O’Connell, your eighth-grade math teacher? Really?” Benny read aloud, his tone dripping with mock horror as I jumped, trying and failing to grab the diary back.

“Oh my god, Benny, stop!” I begged, my face burning as I reached up, but he just laughed, lifting the diary higher, making a game out of it.

“You had a thing for math, huh? Or just guys with glasses?”

I groaned, mortified but unable to keep the smile off my face. “Give it back! I swear, I’ll—”

Benny kept reading, amused at my futile attempts. I shoved a nearby box over, using it as a makeshift step stool, only for it to collapse under me, sending me tumbling to the floor. The crash echoed through the attic, and for a second, everything went silent before Benny’s laughter broke the tension, deep and infectious.

I looked up, sprawled on the floor, and started laughing too, the kind of uncontrollable, belly-aching laughter that leaves you breathless and teary-eyed for all the right reasons. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed like that in this house.

We spent the rest of the day making new memories, each corner of the attic becoming less about the past and more about the here and now. Benny helped me pack away the old pain and fill the empty spaces with something lighter, something new. The house felt different by the end of those weeks, less like a museum of all the hurt I’d carried and more like a home that was ours.

Every time I looked at a corner that used to be filled with sadness, I felt gratitude instead—a quiet, blooming joy that wrapped itself around my heart. I wasn’t forgetting my mom or the pain we’d both gone through, but I was finding a way to make room for happiness too.

The midday sun streamed through the kitchen window, casting warm, golden light across the countertops as I moved around the stove. The smell of homemade tomato soup filled the air, mingling with the buttery aroma of the grilled cheese I was making for lunch. I knew Benny was supposed to be out the door over an hour ago, but here he was, his arms snug around my waist and his head resting comfortably on my shoulder. I could feel the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing against my back, his presence grounding me in a way that made the entire world feel right.

“Weren’t you supposed to leave an hour ago?” I whispered with a giggle as he kissed the sensitive spot on my neck, his lips lingering just long enough to make my skin tingle.

Benny hummed, his voice low and lazy, full of that warmth that always sent shivers down my spine. “You’re holding me hostage,” he murmured, nuzzling into my neck like he had all the time in the world.

I scoffed, flipping the sandwich in the pan, the bread sizzling as it turned a perfect golden brown. “I hope that’s not what you’re tellin’ the boys,” I teased, trying to keep the smile off my face as his kisses grew more persistent, more playful.

“They’d believe it,” he said, his lips brushing against my skin as he grinned. “You were a sight of fear for them that night.”

I nudged him gently, still caught off guard by the way he made me feel so seen, so known. “No way they fear me,” I said, laughing at the absurdity of it. The idea of those big, greasy, tattooed men being scared of someone like me was ridiculous. I was a lot of things, but intimidating wasn’t one of them—not to them, at least.

Benny chuckled softly, his voice a warm rumble that I felt all the way to my bones. “You were a force,” he said, and I could hear the pride mixed with amusement in his tone. “Five women tried to pull you off, and you broke through them—teeth, nails, and limbs flying everywhere. Like a little monkey.”

I gasped, feigning offense as I pushed him back playfully, though his hold on me didn’t loosen. “Rude!” I scolded, my cheeks warming as I turned the sandwich again, trying to focus on the task at hand despite the way his words made my heart race.

Benny laughed, the sound deep and peaceful, wrapping around me like a favorite song. “I never want to think about that night ever again,” I sighed, shaking my head at the memory. I’d gone to the bar looking for some fun, but it had turned into anything but that. “Eat your grilled cheese and leave me alone, Benny Cross. You’ve made enough rude comments for one day.”

He dipped lower, his lips brushing my cheek, then my jaw, peppering soft kisses along my skin until I was practically squirming from the attention. “I’m waiting,” he murmured, his voice smooth as honey, and I knew he was enjoying every second of this.

“Your plate was already made,” I said, my tone dripping with disbelief as I tried to keep my composure. I pointed to the counter where his sandwich and soup were sitting, perfectly plated and ready to eat. “Right there.”

“For you,” he whispered against my ear, his hands roaming my sides in a slow, soft caress that sent jolts of pleasure through me. He was relentless, every touch deliberate, every kiss a gentle tease that made it hard to think straight.

I bit down on the wave of heat that spread through me, refusing to give in completely. “If I hear someone make a comment about me keepin’ you hostage the next time I’m at the bar, I swear I’m chucking an 8-ball at ‘em,” I warned, trying to sound stern, but my voice came out breathless, betraying the effect he had on me.

Benny grinned, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered, “Let ‘em talk, Sunshine. You’ve got nothing to prove.” His hands continued their slow exploration, skimming over my hips and up my back, a mix of comfort and desire that made my knees weak. “Besides, I like being held hostage by you.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and free, bubbling up from somewhere deep inside me. “Yeah, well, you better behave,” I said, turning just enough to look at him, catching the mischievous glint in his eyes. “Or I might just let you go.”

He pulled me closer, his grip firm but tender, holding me in place as he looked down at me with that lazy, cocky smile I’d grown to love. “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried,” he said, his voice low and rough, filled with something deeper than just teasing. “I’m right where I wanna be.”

I leaned into him, letting the warmth of his body and the comfort of his words wrap around me like a blanket. His stubble tickled along my neck with each kiss he placed. I shivered and inched away from him with a giggle, "At least let me finish plating my dish."

He grumbled as he stepped away, grabbed his plate, and moved to sit at the table. I glanced over my shoulder and found him staring intently at me, his eyes dark and.. "Oh my gosh, Benny, are you pouting??" I squealed, "I'm so telling-"

My teasing quietened as a rapid knock broke our moment. The knock wasn’t just loud—it was aggressive, rattling the walls with an urgency that made my heart jump. Benny stood up from the table, his easy smile fading as the tension in the air thickened. I watched as he walked to the door, his shoulders squared and ready for whatever trouble was waiting on the other side. I barely heard the door open before a booming voice echoed,

“Where is she?”

Uncle Harold boomed, his voice filling every corner of the room. Benny instantly stepped in front of him, his stance protective and his jaw clenched tight. I could feel the anger radiating off Harold in waves, each word landing like a blow.

“You need to back off, Harold,” Benny said, his voice edged with warning as he kept his body between me and my uncle. “You can’t just come in here like this.”

But Harold was past listening. He shoved Benny aside, his eyes searching the room until they found me, just as I stepped around the corner from the kitchen. I froze, the intensity of his glare pinning me in place. Benny quickly moved to close the door behind Aunt Gina and stepped in front of me, blocking my uncle’s line of sight. His broad back was a shield between me and the onslaught of Harold’s rage.

“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice shaky but defiant. I tried to look around Benny, but he held his ground, his presence a firm line of defense.

Harold’s face was twisted with anger, his fists clenched as he pointed at me. “You’ve got this boy living in your mama’s house!” he shouted, his voice cracking with emotion. “And I’ve got Old Man Harry telling me you’ve got a bunch of Vandals vouching that you weren’t in a fight when six women described you in detail!”

The words hit like a slap, the sheer force of his anger pressing down on me, but as his accusations rang out, something inside me snapped.

Benny glanced back at me, his eyes searching mine, but he didn’t move from his spot in front of me. He was there, steady and unflinching, even as the storm raged on. “Harold, you need to calm down,” Benny said, his voice low and tense. “She doesn’t need this from you.”

I stepped around Benny, frustration boiling over. “DO YOU EVEN HEAR YOURSELF RIGHT NOW?” I yelled, my voice trembling with fury and years of bottled-up hurt. “You used to be a biker too! You still have your bike! You know what that life is like!”

“That’s different,” Uncle Harold snapped, his anger flaring again as he tried to reel himself back, but I wasn’t about to let him off that easy.

“No, it’s not!” I shot back, my voice breaking. “When you met Aunt Gigi, you’d just gotten out of jail! She still gave you a chance. She saw something in you that no one else did. How is it any different for me and Benny?”

Harold’s face tightened, his anger battling with the guilt that flickered briefly in his eyes. “It’s different because your mama made me promise,” he said, his voice straining, shaking with unspoken grief. “She made me promise that I’d protect you. I gave her my word that I’d be the father you needed.”

Pain gripped my chest, sharp and unforgiving. My throat tightened as I tried to hold back the emotions that threatened to swallow me whole. “Don’t bring her into this!” I shouted, my voice cracking under the weight of it all. The mention of my mom felt like a knife, twisting deep. The hurt was suffocating, choking me with memories of promises I never asked for.

Harold’s face contorted with pain and fury, his voice shaking as he continued. “You’re running around with this boy, getting into trouble, doing things you shouldn’t. You aren’t the little girl we raised.”

I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady myself, but the grief and anger were a tidal wave, pulling me under. I tried to step around Benny, desperate to confront my uncle face-to-face, but Benny’s arm shot out, his hand gently tucking me behind him. His body was a shield, protecting me even when I was ready to charge headfirst into the fire.

“Harold, enough,” Benny said, his voice like steel, unyielding and protective. “You don’t get to judge her. You don’t get to make her feel small.”

I peeked around Benny, the tears burning in my eyes as I stared at my uncle. “You never knew me,” I said, my voice cracking with the raw truth I’d kept buried for years. “Because the little girl you raised was broken, scared and angry. You never saw that, did you? You never saw how hard it was to keep it together, how much I was hurting.”

The room was thick with tension, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken pain. Aunt Gina stepped closer, her face etched with sadness as she watched me unravel. “Sunny, we’re just trying to help,” she said softly, her voice a calm presence amidst the chaos. “We love you. We don’t want to see you get hurt.”

But I was too far gone, too tangled up in my own grief and anger to let the words soothe me. “I know you love me,” I said, my voice trembling as I fought to keep control. “But you don’t get to decide what’s best for me anymore. You don’t get to come in here and throw around all your guilt and promises like they’re weapons.”

Harold’s face fell, the anger draining away, leaving only the hollow ache of regret. His shoulders sagged, and for the first time, he looked at me not with fury, but with a kind of desperate sorrow. “I’m scared, Sunny,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared I’m failing her. Failing you. I don’t want to lose you.”

The admission hit me harder than any of his accusations. I could see the guilt and fear that mirrored my own, the weight of promises made in grief and love and uncertainty. But this wasn’t just about him, and it wasn’t about my mom. It was about me.

I took a shaky step forward, Benny’s hand still resting on my shoulder, grounding me. “You’re not failing me,” I said, my voice softening as the anger ebbed away, replaced by something gentler. “But you’ve got to let me live. You’ve got to trust me to make my own choices, even if they’re messy.”

Aunt Gina reached out, squeezing Harold’s arm, her touch a quiet anchor pulling him back. She looked at me, her eyes filled with a sadness that was heavy and old, and nodded slowly. “We just want you to be happy,” she said, her voice choked with the weight of everything left unsaid.

“I am happy,” I whispered, looking up at Benny, who watched me with those steady eyes that had been my rock through it all. “Because I’m finally living for me.”

Uncle Harolds expression softened, the lines of his face deepening as he looked at me, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his own failures. “Forgive me,” he murmured, his voice breaking with raw vulnerability. It wasn’t just an apology for tonight, but for everything—for every time he’d let his anger and grief overshadow his love for me.

Harold bowed his head, the pain etched deep into his features, and without another word, he turned away, his broad, hulking figure seeming smaller, more fragile as he walked toward the door. He moved slowly, like he was dragging the weight of the world behind him, every step heavy with the sorrow of a man who’d tried to do right but hadn’t always known how.

Aunt Gina lingered for a moment, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and quiet reassurance. She reached out, squeezing my arm gently, her touch warm and grounding. “We’re still here, Sunny,” she said softly, her voice laced with a kind of fierce love that made my chest ache. “No matter what, we’re still here for you.”

I nodded, feeling the sting of tears that I refused to let fall. “I know,” I whispered, my voice catching as I met her gaze. “Thank you.”

Gina gave me a soft, reassuring smile, the kind that spoke of years of shared memories, both good and bad. She glanced at Benny, her expression shifting to something like cautious hope, and then back at me, her eyes full of unspoken promises. She turned to follow Harold, her footsteps light but purposeful, and with one last look, she stepped through the door, closing it softly behind her.

With the door closed and my aunt and uncle finally gone, the weight of their words hung heavy in the air, settling deep into my bones. The playfulness of our earlier mood had completely vanished, replaced by something darker and more somber. I stood in the middle of the room, feeling lost, unsure of what to do with myself as the emotional turmoil that always seemed to follow me crept back in. I had thought I’d managed to escape it these past few weeks, hiding in the warmth of Benny’s company, but now it was back, clawing at me with a vengeance.

I sniffed, trying to swallow down the lump in my throat, the familiar sting of tears threatening to break free again. “I need a nap,” I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at Benny, my gaze fixed on the stairs as I rushed past him, desperate to get away, to hide from the flood of emotions crashing over me.

I stumbled into the bedroom, shutting the door behind me and collapsing onto the bed. I curled up into a tight ball, pulling the blankets around me as if they could shield me from everything swirling inside my head. My uncle’s voice echoed, relentless and unforgiving, each word like a dagger twisting deeper. ‘I promised your ma I’d take care of you.’ The guilt, the pressure, the overwhelming sense of being a disappointment—it all wrapped around me, suffocating and relentless.

I buried my face into the pillow, my chest tightening with each shaky breath as I tried to keep it together. But it was no use. The tears came anyway, hot and uncontrollable, spilling over as I silently sobbed into the fabric. The pain of my past, the weight of everyone’s expectations—it was too much. All the anger, the sadness, and the unresolved grief came rushing back, drowning me in a wave of emotions I didn’t know how to handle.

I didn’t hear Benny come in, but I felt the bed dip as he sat beside me, his presence a quiet, grounding force that I hadn’t realized I was desperate for. He didn’t say anything, didn’t ask me to talk or try to pry me open. He simply wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close, his body fitting around mine like a protective shield. I felt his head nestle into the crook of my neck, his breath warm and steady against my skin.

He didn’t let go, didn’t pull back when I tensed, just held me tighter, his arms firm and unyielding. Benny’s embrace was like an anchor, something solid and real in the middle of my storm. His touch was gentle, each stroke of his thumb against my shoulder a silent reassurance that I wasn’t alone, that I didn’t have to carry all of this by myself. I felt the trembling in my body start to ease, the frantic beating of my heart slowly matching the calm, even rhythm of his.

Benny’s presence was more than just comforting; it was life-saving. He grounded me in a way that nothing else could, pulling me back from the edge of my own despair. The panic, the guilt, all the things I kept locked away—they didn’t feel so unbearable with him there, holding me through it. I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the warmth of his embrace, feeling the tension slowly begin to drain from my muscles.

He kissed my shoulder softly, his lips brushing against my skin in a gesture so gentle it almost broke me all over again. I felt the tears well up once more, but this time they were softer, less frantic, as if Benny’s presence was slowly unwinding the tight knot of pain inside me. I turned slightly, pressing my face into his chest, breathing him in—the scent of leather, smoke, and something uniquely his that always made me feel safe.

“I’ve got you,” Benny whispered, his voice low and hushed, like a secret meant only for me. His hand moved up to cup the back of my head, his fingers threading through my hair as he held me close. “You’re not alone. I’m right here.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, the words breaking through my defenses in a way that nothing else had. Benny didn’t try to fix me, didn’t pretend that he could make everything better, and that was exactly what I needed. He was just there, unconditionally, holding me as I broke down, no judgment, no expectations—just a quiet, unwavering support that made me feel like maybe I could keep going, even when everything felt impossible.

I pulled back just enough to look up at him, my eyes puffy and wet, but his gaze was soft and full of something that made my heart ache. I saw the way he looked at me—not with pity, but with an understanding that went deeper than words. He brushed his thumb across my cheek, wiping away the last of my tears, and I felt the flood of emotion rise up again, but this time it was different, warmer.

“I love you,” I whispered, the confession spilling out before I could second-guess it. It was raw and unguarded, the truth laid bare in the quiet space between us. For the first time, it didn’t feel scary to say. It felt right.

Benny’s face softened, and a smile tugged at his lips, gentle and filled with a quiet joy that made my heart flutter. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against mine, his eyes closing as he let the words sink in. “I love you, too,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “More than you know.”

I melted into him, my arms wrapping around his neck as he held me tighter, his embrace a sanctuary from the world outside. The chaos, the pain, my uncle’s harsh words—they all faded into the background, replaced by the steady, calming presence of Benny beside me. I buried my face against his chest, letting myself be small and vulnerable, knowing that with Benny, I didn’t have to be anything but myself.

Taglist: @storiesfromafan@aleemendoza2425-blog , @preciouslilmonster , @iamaslytherin0

[neoyi]

Have you seen Studio Trigger's tribute to Transformers??? Not just Trigger, but freaking BUMP OF CHICKEN???? There was a single split second that reminded me of you and how just for that alone you'd love the video.

My Transformers days are long behind me, so I did not catch wind, so I assumed this was, like, something that came out a few years ago.

But no, this was less than a week and oh my God...

They have everyone! EVERYONE! Even the Japanese-only Transformers. Even the obscure ones I barely know! Including ones I don't know unless I wiki'd dived!

Oh, man, this entire video was a lovely treat. I got a bit emotional, actually. Because hey, I may not be into TF anymore, but you can't take the Transformers out of me!

AAaaaaaaaa! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

THIS SCENE STILL HURTS!

Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I love it. It brought back great nostalgia and fondness for the franchise. I should really revisit Transformers Animated again (still my favorite) and really, really watch Earthspark (I've heard good things) and really, really, reaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaally finish MTMTE/Lost Light (blasphemous, I know! I knoooooooooow! I got halfway through when I lost interested in TF, but I promise I WILL finish that comic series. It's so fucking good.)

[lizzyflowers]

" Are you satisfied now, Dream? "

DS!Nightmare & DS!Dream by Onebizzarekai Art by me [@lizzyflowers]

Ramblings below:

That one post of Kai saying that even if Dream managed to kill Nightmare, it would leave a gaping hole in his soul. Leaving him feeling empty and hurt, absolutely regretting killing the only other person that he loved.

I feel like after that, Dream would just drown himself in his work, anything to not focus on the pain of killing the person he convinced himself he didn't care for. That he was sure was the reason for the misfortunes and evil of the world. Oh how blind he was.

The guilt would consume him and he wishes he could hold Nightmare's lifeless corpse forever but he has an organization to run and he can't ruin himself like this for eternity. He definitely would still visit the kids at the orphanage, but sometimes he just needs to a moment to himself. Now more than ever.

He keeps Nightmare's body tucked away in a casket somewhere deep in the castle where nobody else can find but him. Maybe he would visit sometime, maybe he would talk to Nightmare as if he was still alive. He's not delusional, he knows Nightmare is long gone, but he likes to think that the other is listening. He is.

Did he change his ways of dealing with criminals? No. Of course not, he would have to listen to Nightmare first to even consider it, but now Nightmare's gone. Now, he's much more brutal and swift with his targets.

He would no longer feel anything as he slays another man down, only separating their faces with Nightmare's because everytime he ends another life in the name of justice, it reminds him of that day all over again. The same hurt face, the same blood, the same corpse, the same soaked clothes, the same tainted claymore.

He's reminded of it every. single. time.

Ink notices the change, and he would know why. He would try helping his boss but he isn't really great at comforting others. Maybe he'll try organizing the usually tidy desk that's now left messy and unorganized. Maybe he would remind Dream to rest or eat/drink something. Funny, it used to be him being reminded by Dream, not the other way around.

Cross is... well i remember if Nightmare did get killed, Cross would get consumed by rage, allowing XChara to take control and letting him on a rampage. Getting him killed in the process to protect the masses. Angered by your close friend's (possibly crush/lover's?) death, dying by the same hands to keep everyone else safe.

Error? God, how would Error even feel. Losing both of your closest friends by one person leaving you alone, again. The only person that he could trust with touch is gone. The person that he would joke and watch anime with is gone. How devastated would he be?

Blue... well, he could take this opportunity to try and convince Error to come with him, he won't be alone anymore with an old friend now would he? But Error knows better, he knows better now with the help of Cross and Nightmare. How dare Blue try to insinuate that he replace them with Blue so easily, that Blue could just saunter up to him after he lost his two close friends?

But maybe in another timeline, Error, still so hurt and grieving, blindly accepts Blue's offer because he doesn't want to be alone. Not again.

God i am NOT OKAY ABOUT THIS, GAHHHH

[tapakah0]

Joining yeye23

[king-magppi]

🦾Detroit doodles from these past two weeks! When I wasn't replaying the game I was drawing these.🤖

Alice has 3 dads. NONE of them are Todd. (I need to draw Luther with Alice) Oh by the way the last two are from my own little happy ending AU where Kara, Luther, and Alice bring Ralph and Jerry(s) over to Canada with them!! They learn to adapt to life as "humans" and they all love Alice very much! She deserves it.

[ofswordsandpens]

trying to read riordan's work post pjo:

[chicoryblue]

He sticks out like a sore, decaying thumb, light swimming through him in dappled leaf and bottle greens. His skin, always slightly damp, has an unnatural give to it. It just feels like you could push your claws all the way in. But you resist the urge, only halfway mollified by his chuckled assurance that it's fine, really, he's just a bit transparent, that's all - he was always bad at hiding his emotions, anyway.

Edit: Got struck by inspo, so here’s Wishbone in all his ‘a bully turned my hat around and pushed me glory’

[cerise-on-top]

Got any Farah, Valeria, & Laswell hcs? Anything, really- I'm dying for my girls 🤲🤲🤲

Hello! Yeah, I was able to come up with a few! I already wrote a few for Valeria here! Somehow, I forgot to put them in my masterlist, though, which I have since fixed! Thank you for making me aware of this, though :-) These are general Headcanons, though, since I had an easier time coming up with those and because you didn't specify, I hope that's okay!

Valeria, Farah and Laswell HCs

Valeria: She’s always had quite the temper, even when she was young. While she may not have been spoiled to hell and back as a child, she usually got what she wanted, as long as it wasn’t something extraordinarily big, her parents always took care of her like that. Valeria loved her mother, they got along very well with each other, and she also took after her, having inherited her personality for the most part. Her father was a bit calmer than the two of them, but that didn’t mean they didn’t get along either. Whereas her mother would encourage her to do most things, her father would try to talk sense into her if it was a bad idea. She often sulked because of it, which is why she didn’t like her father as much as her mother, but as she got older she realized he meant well. Sometimes she still thinks about his advice, but the both of them died a long time ago, so most things they’ve told her are a distant memory by now. Valeria may be successful with what she’s doing and doesn’t like being told what to do, but sometimes she does wish she could still eat some sweets with her parents like she used to.

Joining the military actually wasn’t her first choice of career. She tried many places, but no one would take her, so she opted for the military, which welcomed her with open arms. She got paid. Not well, but she received the money, which was important since her parents couldn’t leave her with too much. They didn’t have very much either, so there wasn’t much to be inherited. Because she’s a woman, a few creeps tried to harass her, but she had none of it and beat all three of them up herself and on her own. Ever since that incident she wasn’t a big fan of the military either, but no other place would take her. However, it showed just how capable she was and earned her a lot of respect. A few other men would try to make advances towards her, but she shot them down every time. However, whenever another female soldier would jokingly flirt with her, that’s when she’d give it her all, making it her goal to fluster her beyond all hell. She’s spent a few evenings and nights with a few female soldiers, but was always willing to rip a male soldier’s dick off if he was being too friendly with her. During her time as a soldier she also realized that she preferred women.

She didn’t always hate Alejandro, actually. Back in the day, they got along very well. He was a man, yes, but he had enough respect for her. It wasn’t a given, even if it should have been, but she appreciated it. Whenever they sparred he gave it his all as well and never looked down on her. In his eyes, the two of them were equals and it showed. Valeria could appreciate that. She liked him, she spent a night with him but realized she hated that sort of stuff with men. He was the final realization for her that Valeria does not like men. It didn’t make her hate him at first, though. Only when he insisted on the two of them being a thing did she develop some form of disdain for him. Once she told him that she could never feel the same way, he stopped. However, he also started treating her a bit differently since he was in love with her. As he rose in ranks, he was a bit harsher on her than the other soldiers, usually dissatisfied with anything she did. He didn’t even notice that, but Valeria did. Therefore he became just another scum to her.

Farah: Before her town got attacked, she actually had a pretty happy childhood. She was sweet and kind as a kid, she got along well with her parents and her brother and she had a few close friends. Farah loved going outside to play, sometimes even inviting her parents to make potions with her in a bucket filled with water, sand and rocks. Her parents were always afraid of the Russians invading and tried to keep their children safe regardless of what happened, but in the end they were unable to. It hit Farah pretty hard, she loved her parents. Even now she misses them dearly since they always took such good care of her and her brother. At least she still had her brother. Farah knew she was the younger one out of the two of them, so she likely should have been the one to be protected, but once her town got attacked she became determined to make sure her brother would stay with her. Drastic times called for drastic measures, so she actually has killed people just so her brother could stay alive. It was around that time that other people realized how she was a very caring person still and could be trusted. Slowly, through that realization, she was able to gather a small force that could help her.

Farah is a pretty good leader. The people she works with adore her because, under that rough exterior, she’s still a good person. All her brothers and sisters know she can be trusted with just about anything. She rarely ever says no upon hearing a request of one of her people, knowing fully well what it’s like to need something. As she’s been through a lot herself, she always has an open ear for her brothers and sisters. While there’s not always time to listen to everyone’s concerns, if she does have time she’ll listen to you intently. Farah knows a lot more about her people than she lets on, that ranges from how the latest battle has gone to how her sister’s family is doing. She’s never one to turn down someone in need, always offering food and shelter. I know she may seem stern, because she has to be in order to be a good leader, but deep down she’s still the same kind girl that she’s always been. Her people would give up just about anything for her, and they do. One day, Farah dreams, Urzikstan will be free, it will be safe and it will prosper, its people won’t have anything to fear anymore. Trade will continue, the people will be happy and she can finally lay down her weary head and rest for a bit. But until then, she swore she’ll fight and fight until everything is finally over.

She’s never actually been in love. When she had the chance to develop a crush she was too young. Now that she’s older she doesn’t have time for anything lovey dovey in the slightest. Alex was the first person she ever developed a crush on. He may have seemed like an enemy at first, but it quickly enough became evident that that couldn’t be further from the truth. He was a good man, someone who could be trusted no matter what. He was loyal to a fault as well, which Farah could appreciate. However, she never told him, swallowing her feelings down instead no matter how intense they became. Yet, she sort of did always look forward to his small gestures of affection. Alex is a physically affectionate guy, so he’d sometimes pat her shoulder, put a hand on her shoulder or gently bump her arm to show he liked her. Farah is severely touch starved, so it made for a good combination. One time, he asked if she would like a hug, to which she said yes. To this day, Farah thinks about that hug since it was the first one she had received in seven or eight years. It may not have seemed like she was swayed at the time, but she was very content afterwards.

Laswell: Laswell’s parents didn’t really care too much for her. Don’t get me wrong, they provided for her physical needs, but they barely looked after her in any other regard, thinking she was happy because she had everything she could ever need. Laswell may have been strong because of it, even then, but she did wish her parents had cared more about other things as well, such as how she was doing emotionally. There were quite a few things that hurt her during her childhood, but she barely had anyone who would support her during her rough times. Her parents only ever wanted to see her happy and content, but barely made any effort to actually keep her as such. Laswell knew fairly early on that she was a lesbian and did come out to her parents, but that’s all that happened. It was never discussed again afterwards, even if her father would sometimes say that she would “find the right guy eventually” while talking to other people. Laswell has called him out on it numerous times, but he always made it about him and how he was the victim for saying something that made his daughter uncomfortable. Laswell didn’t stay in contact with her parents for very long once she moved out.

Even back when she was a child, Laswell knew she wanted to do something more exciting than be a hairdresser, waitress or cook. She wanted to do something with plenty of action, but at the same time she wanted to study and go to university. And thus she combined her wishes and started going to university at first. Afterwards, sometime in her twenties, she started to work for the CIA. She wasn’t treated with very much respect there at first, being a woman working there and all. But she didn’t let that disrespect get her down. In fact, on the outside, she stayed professional, but on the inside she took mental notes on who treated her badly and who didn’t. It soon enough became evident that Laswell knew what she was doing, even if her master’s degree should have been proof enough that there was some intelligence in that noggin of hers. However, soon enough she was transferred. In fact, she was transferred many times before she became a station chief, but it only showed just how competent she was in her field. Laswell has since saved thousands of lives and is proud of it. To her, such a thing is her calling and she wants to continue doing so for as long as she can, all the dangers be damned.

Laswell adores her wife. In fact, “Laswell” isn’t her original last name, she took that of her wife. At first they played with the idea of combining their names, but Laswell wanted fairly little to do with her parents at that point. Plus she wanted to show her father that she never “found the right guy”. So her being named Laswell is purely out of spite. While she may not be at home all the time, or very often, for that matter, she makes sure to bring her wife a gift every time she comes home. It can be something small, such as a souvenir she found while she was abroad, or it could be something along the lines of a golden ring that unfolds into an astronomical sphere. She needs to pamper her wife like that and make sure she knows Laswell loves her to the moon and back. Money isn’t an issue for her, she gets paid very well. Even if the biggest reward for her doing what she does is seeing her wife smile. Every time she sees her give her a big smile she’s reminded of why she does what she does, and that’s the most wonderful thing for her. Even so, not many people know about Laswell’s wife, only a select few do. It’s a safety measure since she knows people will target her. Although she’s a diplomatic kind of person, if anyone ever were to hurt her wife, then that person can be certain they’ll never walk freely among the sunlight again.

[sleepyseals]

[Image Description: Two unfinished digital paintings / sketches of the hatchling and Hal from outer wilds. they are standing with their arms around each other and the hatchling has their head leaning on hal's shoulder as hal watches the supernova in the distance through the doorway of the museum. the first image is the scene viewed from behind with everything lit in bright blue with dark shadows. the second image shows hal's face looking in fear towards the light and is only partially colored, the rest sketched over a gray background. End Image Description.]

something you'll run back in for when the house burns down

[impostorsshow]

I'm actually so obsessed with him it's not even funny if i'm not listening to a TikTok or music directly related to him I can't focus free me free me

This is @/cherubpuppet's OC for a object show [au? pitch? wip show? How do I categorize this] and I've been destroyed by the fact that ruler art is infinitely superior [and 10x longer] and i don't have a good enough grasp on lip gloss's personality to make fanfiction so I am frozen in "want make fanart but fanart takes effort :["

[nerdyqueerr]

sometimes i think a little bit about how the Wyrm's ultimate Evil Ploy on Elora was to grant her heterosexual marriage and then not only does she turn that down but she and two lesbian knights defeat the evil AND THEN the Power Of Love comes in to save the heterosexual marriage guy but its literally just the power of his sister saying hey come back i miss you. and, dear readers, i find myself going insane a little