#I guess I can keep it in the fund for something else but it's still counterproductive

[skrunksthatwunk]

not to doomer post. but. american politics is like here's a conservative warmonger who wants to burn you alive personally and here's a different conservative warmonger who definitely wouldn't stop someone from burning you alive BUT who might raise the minimum wage by $0.30/hour for you, but only like eight years from now (so re-elect me please!! >w<). yes one of them has to be president they are the only two options we'll let you have. no neither of them will stop the government from killing you or anyone else, but at least one will say "it's kind of bad to kill people :( someone should really do something about that..." while giving the people-killers $20,000,000,000,000 to keep doing it then saying they can't afford to help you at all, but oh shucks, maybe next cycle, if you vote for me again! and also everyone will pretend as though they are extremely different political entities covering two highly polarized ends of the political spectrum despite nearly identical policy views obscured by their slightly different ways of addressing their target audiences, many of whom are also conservative warmongers. and also if you don't vote or vote third party the other guy will win and you will watch as they burn everyone you love alive in the same way they've burned so many strangers so you kind of feel like you have to vote for the other warmonger because even though they both have blood on their hands you'll take a handshake over an uppercut. even if you can still see the bodies piling up behind them. even if you can only save like five people you know and not the thousands of people who are dying in the other room. because you believe the difference between 30,000 and 30,005 is still worth it even though no one needed to die in the first place and no one seems to agree with you. you have to keep living in this world every day. if anything changes it will take decades and it will never be enough. if this takes a toll on you good fucking luck surviving off the generosity of the warmonger state that claims to serve you. happy voting!!

[boyapologist]

you know what. whatever.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Icy III

Mapi León x Ingrid Engen x Teen!Reader

Summary: He watches your match

He sits up in the box with Laporta, stretched out on the foldout chair like it's his personal throne.

He's wearing a new suit, freshly ironed and tailored to fit his body perfectly. His hair has been cut and styled to give that almost effortless look about him.

"Trust fund, I reckon," Patri says from your warm up circle," That guy that's up there with Laporta."

"No way," Pina disagrees," That's new money, not old. Probably a hedge fun manager."

"Or some kind of oil and gas giant," Mapi laughs.

"None," You say," Real estate at first then tech and then big pharma over in the states."

"What made you guess that?" Mapi asks and you stubbornly kick the ball away.

"I didn't. Laporta's not going to get money out of him anyway. The wife is the one that invests in sports but only ones she gets good profits out of. Two NFL teams, a Formula One team. She owns a tennis stadium in Paris. Big investor in the Olympics."

"Oh come on," Patri complains," There's no way you just know that off the top of your head."

"It doesn't matter. If Laporta wants money he should talk to the wife."

You can feel his gaze on you throughout the match.

It's a team at the bottom of the table and you're so technical that they can't get close but you can still feel the weight of his stare on you at all times.

'You carry the weight of our family'.

He's told you that many times.

'If you cannot exceed expectations then we have no use for you'.

He's told you that too, something you remember as you cross the ball into Pina, who taps it in easily.

You celebrate together, hugging and you feel Ingrid's familiar presence behind you as she gives you her customary kiss on the head.

You look up at him in the crowd, just out of reflex but you can't see much.

He's still splayed out like he's a king on a throne, looking down at you like you're a peasant in the street, fighting with someone else for just a scrap of bread.

That's his idea of entertainment, like holding up a magnifying glass towards an ant hill in the middle of a sunny day.

You feel small under his gaze, dipping your head in submission as you walk back into your position.

You assist in the next three goals.

Alexia.

Aitana.

Even Keira.

You're good at that. You've perfected the art of assisting.

Mapi's even joked before that you're going for the record of assists from one person this season.

Alexia says she's going to make you be more selfish and shoot more but you don't think you really need to do that, not when Caro can do it instead of you.

This is one of the rare matches where Caro's being rotated so gets no minutes. You fill her place though, like you always do, setting up goals and carrying the ball down the wing.

Barcelona win, of course, and you drift back to Ingrid and Mapi like you normally do.

Mapi grins at you, arm thrown over your shoulder and a frown on her face as you go rigid under her.

Laporta is on the pitch with him, stuttering over his words and hurrying to keep up.

He stops in front of you.

"Y/n."

Your head drops automatically, thoroughly chastised as you step out from under Mapi's arms.

His hand clamps down on your shoulder and you can tell how this is going to go before he even opens his mouth.

"Of course we're very proud of her," His honeyed tone tells Laporta," We've wanted nothing but the best for her."

For them, you correct in your head.

"She's always had such a passion for football. We love watching her play."

He's never seen you play in his life.

"We-We're very happy to have her here!" Laporta tells him," She's a real talent. You're produced quite the footballer."

He laughs, waving away the compliments as his hand feels like a shackle around you. "You're too kind. Sports has never quite been my thing. I'll have to talk to the wife about what we were talking about, I'm sure you'll understand."

"Of course! Of course! Take all the time you need!"

He will. You know he will.

He'll discuss with her and they'll write up a contract if it's really something they're interested, about what they pay in and what they get out of it.

She's always been better at the sports side of it, despite her background in real estate. She knows how to talk people around in circles. How to get through the little boy's club that every sport has. She'll get what she wants if Barcelona is even something she's interested in.

You hope it isn't.

"I'll leave you alone with your daughter," Laporta says and you want to call after him.

You want to tell him not to leave with your father.

Barcelona was supposed to be yours. You were supposed to be safe here.

You can't control when they summon you in Norway but if you're in Barcelona, they're not supposed to be able to get to you. You're not meant to be subject to their whims in Barcelona.

You want to go home. You want to go home with Mapi and Ingrid and curl up in your bed with Toast and not move for a week.

His casual hand on your shoulder grows heavy in an instant, nails digging in to your skin through your shirt and you have to keep the smile on your face to keep up appearances for the cameras you know are on you.

His lips graze your ear as he whispers to you," If you ever blindside me like this again then I promise you won't like what happens next."

"Sorry, Father," You say back.

"You better be. I didn't like sitting up there with potential business partners to see my own daughter down there like a football hooligan."

"Sorry."

"I'm better than that and I raised you to be better than that too."

You resist the urge to tell him that he didn't raise you at all.

Your wrist twinges, the phantom injury flaring up like it always did when you're nervous.

You throat bobs, already closing up as you fight back tears.

"I'm sorry."

"Apologies mean nothing." His voice is harsh in your ear and you find a point ahead of you to stare at so you don't cry.

If there's something that he hates more than apologies, it's tears so you stubbornly don't let even one fall.

"Who's this, y/n?" Ingrid asks, clearing her throat and you flick your eyes to her.

"My-"

Your father says his name, sticking his hand out and he's back to playing the role of proud father. "And you are?"

"Ingrid Engen. I play with y/n on the Norwegian team too."

"Ah! Yes. I think she's mentioned you before!" He's lying.

He didn't even know you played on the national team.

"And I'm Mapi. She lives with me and Ingrid."

"I can't thank you enough," Your father says," She can be quite a handful sometimes." He laughs but no one laughs with him.

"I think she's delightful," Ingrid says," Very helpful. Very studious. She's the best in her class."

The smile on his face is real now, like it always is when he hears about your academics.

He started in real estate and then moved to investing in technology and pharmaceuticals. He and your mother are scarily intelligent and it might be the only thing they passed onto you.

"We expect nothing less of her," He says," I'm sure everyone at the party will be glad to hear it."

Your breath stutters in your chest. "The party?"

"Yes! The party! I must have forgotten to tell you! We're having a little get together with a few potential business partners. We'll have to get you a dress."

"I don't need to go."

"Don't be silly!" His hand tightens on your shoulder and you know that this isn't a discussion. "There's some people I should introduce you too."

Your head drops again, the fight leaving your body.

"Do you want us to go?" Ingrid asks, ever polite though you feel like without her and Mapi there you won't survive. "So you two can have dinner?"

Your father is laughing again, finally releasing you and you take several quick steps to duck behind Mapi.

"I've got a flight to catch. Meetings to get to. Far more important things."

He can't see you anymore, not with your head bowed and pressed against Mapi's back and you finally let the tears fall.

Ingrid watches your father leave, down the tunnel and escorted to the player's exit by the staff that seem to be falling over themselves to make him happy.

"Y/n," She says, coaxing you out from your hiding spot," Oh, sweetheart...Are you okay?"

You look at her, bottom lip trembling as the tears run down your cheeks.

"Ingrid," You say, sounding small and wounded like an animal," I want to go home."

Ingrid nods as Mapi tucks you under her arm.

"Let's go home."

[romanarose]

First and Last

Logan Howlett x fem!Reader x Wade Wilson

Join my taglist : Masterlist

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Summery: You are inexperienced outside of Logan, so he lets you get fucked by his fwend!!!

Warnings: Threesome, mfm threesome, m/m dynamics here and there, Wade is menace. PIV sex, sharing reader, blowjob, balls <3, protective Logan, lots of explicit consent, oral f and m, cumming in pants too soon. Bisexuality <3 Similar themes as Awakening with Triple Frontier <3

Immersivity: Reader is fem, afab, dresses in dresses, has hair.

A/N: I'm so excited for this!!!! First Wade Wilson fic? So excited!!! I've been writing some logan mostly at my dark account @romana-after-dark. I hope I did okay!!!

Sorry for the repost, this wasn't showing up in the tags at all??? So I'll retag those who rebloged my first one that i remember. Im so sorry to those I didn't remember!!!

You were a virgin when you met Logan.

That didn’t last long.

Sure, Logan took his time, not taking your first kiss and virginity at the same time, but you were as desperate for him as he was for you. You loved your Wolverine. Your sweet, cuddly bear of a man who protected you with a ferocity you’d never seen before and loved you with a tenderness you’ve never felt. 

Still, some days you wondered…

Logan brought it up first. You certainly weren’t going to suggest sleeping with someone else, absolutely not. You loved, loved, loved your boyfriend and he never once left you sexually lacking. Logan learned everything your body liked, everything it didn’t, and brought you pleasure and comfort in one go. It was just that natural bit of curiosity in you that occasionally it flittered across you mind. Not that you thought anyone could be better than Logan; no one could. Even with a bigger cock or someone more eager tongue, the love you shared would always elevate sex. Still, it was more what other people felt like.

“Do you ever wonder what it’s like, having sex with other people?” Logan waited until after sex, when the room was filled with emotional intimacy, but after he cleaned you up. He ever put you in his green flannel. He always put clothes on you before talking about anything serious, and one day you asked him why. He said he wants an even playing field, and at first you think your tits are distracting, but then he continues. He doesn’t want you to feel vulnerable or emotionally naked when you talk.

Heat creeps up your neck. You don’t want to hurt his feelings, but you remain honest. “Sometimes it crosses my mind I guess… But really, not something I like, sit and ponder about. I promise.”

“Hm.” He grunts, playing with your hair and looking at your lips, and for a moment you think he didn’t like that answer. Then he adds. “Have you ever thought about Wade?”

That’s how you got here. After some gentle coaxing, you say no, you never thought about Logan’s friend sexually. You asked if he ever thought about Wade sexually, and he just smirked. ‘Thought about him with you.’

Now you were sat on Logan’s lap on the bed, Wade standing against the wall just watching as Logan explores your body.

“Prettiest fuck’n tits you ever seen…”

Wade has a big grin plastered across his face. ”So you keep saying.” He says with a little laughter, hand fidgeting near his crotch but not touching yet. Not until Logan gives him permission. “And yet, they are like Hugh Jackman in my first two movies.”

You don’t know what he’s talking about half the time.

Logan gives a tit a squeeze, and you stifle a whimper. “Need her to get comfortable, first.” Logan turns into your neck, and you can feel his facial hair tickling your skin. A warm reminder that you are safe, loved and protected. “You nervous, pumpkin?” He coos into the crop of your neck, and you nod shyly. “Do you wanna stop?” You quickly shake your head.

Wade speaks now, more sincere than you are used to from him but still that playful tone. “You sure about that?” He holds up his hand, palm out, and wiggles his fingers. “Nothing tighter than my right hand.”

This made you smile, and Logan continued to touch you. He hooks your legs over his knees, spreading his own legs wide and letting Wade get a good look up your skirt at the cute panties you picked out just for him.

Wade whistles, his cock clearly tenting in his sweats. “C’mon Logan, you’re fucking with me here. I did not consent to edging, we’d have to negotiate that contract.”

A low rumble against your back and Logan chuckles. “Go ahead and touch yourself, dumbass.” As Wade quickly goes to palm at himself, groaning obscenely loud, and Logan responds by dragging his fingers over your clothes clit and tickles the soaked material. 

“Mmmmm” You sign happily at the contact, but stifled from the noises Logan has pulled out of you again and again and again. “Still feeling shy?” He murmurs against your skin, even as he delivers a small slap to your pussy.

You jolt. “M’ sorry”

“Don’t be sorry, just tell me what you want to do. Cards are in your hands.”

And they were. You look at Wade touching himself, heat growing in your stomach at the idea of him between your legs. Nothing in you says stop, no alarm bells to ignore… Wade could be balls deep inside your pussy and if you said stop, he’d stop. You knew Wade enough for that, but you also knew Logan was going to protect you. You doubted you could get to that point without Logan reading your body. No, you trusted them. “Just nerves.” You tell him finally, locking eyes with Wade for a moment before turning away. The heat was too intense, too much sexual tension in the room, the three of you’s desire for each other. You just needed to cool off. “Don’t wanna stop just… I need to relax.” You tell Logan.

Ever attentive, his hands leave your dripping core and go to your shoulders, rubbing them. In a half-whisper, he says, “Would it help if I told you his middle name was Winston?”

A beat of silence.

Then, you giggle. The air is lighter in the room, but no less attraction. You felt better.

Two large hands slide up your middle to cup your breasts. “Are you ready, sweet girl?” 

You look at Wade grinning ear to ear. You can feel Logan’s comforting presence all around you.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” 

*

Logan had taken care of the communication, and everyone was clear on rules and boundaries between the three of you. Well, yours and Logans anyway. Wade was absulty down for anything, stating “Any appendage, any hole.” He said something about toes and urethas, but Logan said something along the lines of , “shut the fuck up, she hasn’t even done anal yet, don’t scare the poor girl.”

Anal play was a no. Logan and you had definitely messed around with some finger and tongue action, but his cock hadn’t gone in yet, and you certainly weren’t letting Wade get in on that action before your loving boyfriend. As for other anal play, you just didn’t feel comfortable with a man you weren’t dating up in that. What if you farted? Well, Wade might be into that actually. Second rule was you stayed in your dress. Maybe it’s silly considering he’ll be up inside your guts, but you weren’t totally confident enough to undress in front of another man. 

Logan’s rules were very clear and simple. Firstly, your comfort comes before everything. Wade can’t lose himself. That was his rule for Wade, but he had a request for you too. 

“First and last,” He asked of you. “Your first and last orgasms belong to me, because no matter what happens here, you’re still mine. His cum might be leaking out of you, but it’s mine that’s gonna get you pregnant one day, do you understand?” 

That idea alone made your stomach do flips… but for the time being, you were on birth control.

Once you told Logan you were ready, Logan stood with you in his arms like you were weightless, turning around to gently lay you down on the bed. He ate you out slower than usual, insisting he wanted to take him time, get you to relax. Wade was suddenly leaning over where Logan knelt on the floor, hands on his shoulders and humps his still-clothed erection onto Logan’s back.

“No fingers yet? Wolvie, baby, you know better than anyone you gotta open her up or this is gonna hurt.”

“Shut the hell up.” Logan growled, then kissed your inner thigh. “She can take it, can’t you baby?”

You scrambled to get a grip on his gentle waves, trying to pull him back into your cunt. “Yes, but Lo, please don’t stop!”

“Ohhhh poor baby…” Logan teases you with a striped licked up your soaked folds. “You need me? Does my girl need me?”

Wade gives a long, slow grind against Logan’s back. “Better give her your fingers soon or I’m gonna go klablewy in my pants.”

Only half listening, Logan looks up at you through his dark lashes, Logan asks you. “That what you need? Need me to open you up, bub?”

You nod furiously, pulling him into you. Not making any effort to tell Wade to fuck off, Logan slides two thick fingers into your dripping channel, causeing you to sigh in relief and Wade to whimper, rutting against Logan like a dog. Instead of pushing him off, Logan reached behind himself and grabbed Wade’s leg, gluing them together and encouraging him on. The sight causes you to chase your high against his face and fingers.

“That’s right, take what you need, go ahead and use me… there we go, feels good doesn’t it?” You didn’t know if he was talking to you or to Wade.

When Wade begins moaning, face twisting in pleasure, Logan picks up his pace. He could feel Wade cumming against him, and seconds later you were gushing out onto his mouth. Getting two people off at once was not something he’d ever thought about, but as he felt it happening Logan couldn’t help the swell of pride in his chest.

Your body goes limp under him, sighing contently the way he loves so much, and he feels Wade braced against him still.

“You gonna be ready to go again, or is your dick as fucked as the rest of you?” Logan teases, starting to stand and only just now shoving the other man back a little.

“Ooh hoo hoo, just give me a minute, Logey boo. There are 206 bones in the human body, 207 if I’m watching you touch this sweet little thing.”

You smile up at him, happy to see him happy, happy he’s here. “Would touching me speed up the process?”

Wade practically jumps on the bed.

*

Once Wade was hard again, you were put into position, handmaid's tale style. Logan sat against the padded bedpost, legs spread, with you in between them. You rest your head on his jeans covered cock as Wade lines himself up at your entrance. He’s longer than Logan but not as thick, cut while Logan isn’t.

He was perfect, just not as perfect as your loving boyfriend. Wade pushes into you quickly, forcing a sharp breath to exhale out of you, nails digging into Logan’s hands where he holds you.

“Wade! For fucks sake, go easy on the girl!”

But you surprise Logan by begging Wade for more. “Please, please, please, give it to me, give it to me Wade.” You look up at your lover. “Logan, please tell him, tell him to fuck me?” Your hips buck, begging for friction.

Logan chuckles. “You heard my girl, Wade-o, give it to her.”

Wade fucking woops, fucking your pussy with an energy you weren’t used to. Logan was an incredible lover, stamina and tenderness, he was not lacking in energy and passion during sex, but Wade? Whole other story. Wade fucked hard and fast, hands wandering all over every inch of your body, whether exposes skin or your pretty dress. Never once did he try to push aside any clothing or show him more than comfortable, simply told you how pretty you looked in this dress. 

“Jesus, how did you find a cute little doll like this?” Wade practically giggles with glee. “This is gonna be in my wet dreams for as long as I live, which, as it happens, is a long fucking time. God, I could just live in this sweet little pussy forever. If you were mine, you’d never be able to walk straight.”

Logan, never one to be shown up by Wad’s mouth, talks right back, fingertips trailing down your front. “Why do you think we canceled on drinks last week? Had to carry her to the bath she was fucked so raw.”

“You kept it up that long, old man?” 

“‘Till she was cry’n”

 “Looks like she’s about ready to start that again.”

Tears were blurring in your eyes, the heat inside you festering into your lower stomach as Wade ravaged your core. You could feel him inside you, your body shifting and making room for him to reach deep inside you than anyone or anything had before. The way he touched your body made you feel wonderfully desired, Wade’s ADHD mind jumping from part to part, giving attention to bits of you that could never have found sex, while Logan’s careful and precise minstrations massaged those erogenous zones. There were even a few sounds Wade pulled from you touching new places that Logan took note of, making sure to know exactly what makes his girl whimper and whine. 

He’s not above learning a thing or two, even if he could make your cum untouched with just his voice. Logan knew how to make you feel adored and sexy and cum over and over again on his cock, but if there was a way to make it even better for you, he was gonna learn.

“It’s okay bub, let it out, we got you. Ooooohhh there we go, that’s my girl, crying on Wades cock like a good girl, my pretty wife letting my friend use her cute body to get his rocks off because he can’t find anyone to get his rocks off with”

“Hey now!”

Logan calling you his wife, hinting at what he had always promised you, a future together for the rest of your life.

“Logan!” You reach your hand back, and Logan takes it quickly, anchoring you. “Wade!” You pull Wade close to you, his body slimmer than Logan but covering you in comfort nonetheless. You feel his skin, mangled and beautiful and so uniquely him sliding against your sweat-slick skin, lips coming to kiss as the force of his thrusts rub your head against Logan's hard cock.

“You gonna cum, baby? Gonna cum on my dick while Logan watches? You know, generally I like to keep my cucks in a chair, but I’ll make an exception for my little peanut.” Wade boops Logan’s nose.

“Ignore him, pumpk’n” but you didn’t want to ignore Wade, not when he was making your legs shake, your climax crestinc as you whine. The hand that isn’t holding yours cradles your neck on his lap, grounding you into this bed where he’d shown you his love time and time again as you cum on his friend's cock. “That’s it, cum for me, sweet girl. Squeezing your cock so good isn’t she?”

“Like FUCKING HEAVEN!” Wade hollers in your ear, pumping his cum into your cunt against and again while you writhe in their arms, a full body orgasm having blossomed from your stomach and tingling down your toes and fingers. You’d never felt so desired, so sexy, so beautiful. 

Wade collapses on your body and you instinctively wrap your arms around him, whispering a thank you in his ear.

“Anything… for… my OTP!” Wade tries to quip between breathless wheezes, but he’s so tired he remains on your chest, eyes drooping.

Logan plays with your hair, tender touches on your face and down your neck where he caressed Wade’s head as well. You loved this, you loved them, and you especially loved your sweet Logan, the fearsome Wolverine only soft for you… and Wade Wilson, it seems. He start to get up after several minutes, still fully clothed and fully hard. Your head slides off his lap, and his hand guides in gentle down to the bed.

“I’m gonna get you guys cleaned up.”

You catch his hand, gazing up at him questioningly. “First and last, remember?” He wanted to give yoru first and last orgasm, but Logan just smiles down softly at you.

“You’re tired, bub. Let me take care of your guys.”

“I can do another!” You try to assert. This was Logan’s condition, and it’s not like you were in pain or pure exhausted. There was no reason you couldn’t do this for him.

From his place resting on your chest, Wade pipes up. “I see you’re still rocking a stiffy, gramps. I bet we could heat things up in here to the 60’s” He turns to a wall and winks. “The highest 60’s”

Logan shook his head. “Today wasn’t about me.”

But you don’t let go. “First and last. You are my first, and my last, okay?”

His soft smile grows into something more wicked.

*

You are placed on top of him, your sweet pussy dripping down onto his tongue, his thumb fucking your ass, and cock making your mouth gag. Wade, a tired wittle guy, laid down between Logan’s legs and under mouth, slobbering with Logan’s balls in his mouth. Gagging on your lover’s shaft, Wade is not put off by your saliva and Logan’s precum dripping down on him. Likewise, Logan was not bothered by swallowing down Wade’s cum. In fact, he ate you out with more vigor than he had earlier, humming contently at the taste of his friend.

Wade guided you, using your mouth like a toy to pleasure his friend. With fingers entangled in your locks he pulls your head off and pushes it back down, forcing your throat to take whatever it’s given. Still, somehow he listens to those little cues of yours and never pushes it too far. You gag and moan in delight as Logan devours your puffy pussy, your tight little ring of muscle squeezing down on his thumb. Finger nails dig into Logan’s thick thighs and he’s not sure who they belong to, you or Wade, and before he can draw it out any longer Logan is flooding your mouth with rope after rope of hot cum.

“Yeah, fuck, don’t fucking stop baby, keep gagging, want my cum spilling on Wade’s face.”

“FUCK YEAH!” Wade shouts, albeit muffled with Logans tightening balls still in his mouth. When Logan finishes pumping your mouth full, you pull off his dick and lean over Wade, mouth full. He leaves Logan and smiles, giving you permission for what you were both thinking. He opens his mouth and spit a blog of saliva and cum into his mouth, slowly letting it drip down before you encased his mouth in your, letting him lick the rest of Logan’s cum out as he watched.

*

Logan did as he promised and took care of you and Wade. The two of you were entangled yourself with each other, arms in arms, legs wrapped around waists as Logan got a warm wash of clothes and cleaned both of you up with a gentle touch you ’d never seen him give Wade, but you liked seeing it. Wade and you provided each other with that skin to skin as Logan handled the technical, praising you both.

While Logan made you and Wade drink water, he rummaged through his clothes, tossing Wade some sweats and looking at you as he pulled on boxers. “Can I take you to the bathroom so I can get you into something more comfortable?”

You consider his words for a minute. He was offering you privacy, not requiring you to undress in front of Wade nor stay in the dress. Wade mumbles something about leaving the room, but he was clearly half asleep. Thing was, you didn't feel embarrassed with Wade anymore.

“You can change me here.”

Logan smiles down at you, leaning over to press a sweet kiss to your dick-sucking-swollen lips, and grabs at the hem of your dress. Even though he’s tired, Wade helps lift up your hips, then torso, then neck with his strength and is nice and carefully laying you down again on your nice soft bed. When Logan finally joins you two, you’re surprised to find that inside of going to curl his arms around you at your side, he crawls up between you and Wade. For a second you think there’s jealousy, that he wants distance between you two and you fear he’s about to send Wade out. Spending the night was not in the plan, but neither was that intense sexual chemistry between all three of you. You didn’t love Wade, but you felt close to him. You wanted him to stay.

Instead of kicking Wade wraps his arms around both of you, pulling you close to him. He was warm, safe, strong as you laid your body down on top of his chest, Wade opting to curl in more and rest on Logan’s abs, muttering “Mmmmm my peanut” and for once Logan didn’t tell him to shut up. When Wade starts snoring, Logan continues to play with your hair as he speaks.

“Was everything okay, pumpkin? You feel good?”

“Yeah,” You confirm, nodding off to sleep in content happiness. “Are you okay that I kissed Wade? We didn’t really talk about that.”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little mind, beautiful girl. I know who you belong to.”

You kiss his left peck. “My first and last.”

I HOPE I DID OKAY!!!!!!

I love them you're honor ;-; WADE IS CANONICALLY QUEER SO DONT ERASE THATW HEN YOU WRITE HIM!!!

I love wolverine/ deadpool <3

I love my queer men

Thank you for reading! I have a/b/o Logan series coming after I finish up some Pedro Pascal fics!!!

@clawsandbullets @sunnyfranc @silversprings-mp3 @apizzacalledmel @marshmallow--3 @titanwind @sheepdogtrick3 @zooty-and-fruity @drunk-and-capable @xdaddysprincessxx

and thought @tightjeansjavi @multiversed-daydreamer and @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction may enjoy but no presure!!!!

[luxaofhesperides]

Ghostlights where Phantom saves Duke or the Signal, and a week later (at a Wayne gala or some other place) Duke recognizes the light/aura coming from Danny

Putting off gala prep was perhaps not the best plan. Duke spent the past month insisting that everything is fine and he has it under control. Duke is also a lying liar who lies, and now he’s frantically trying to pick up his suit in time to get it dry cleaned and altered as necessary. 

Alfred would be disappointed in him, but in Duke’s defense, he had to go out of town on a mission to bust a growing drug cartel, and then spent half a week visiting a shelter for metas on the run (unofficial and hidden away) to help everyone find new homes and learn to control their powers. These things take time!

Unfortunately, gala prep also takes time, and since it’s a charity gala for funding the education of every Gothamite student, it’s not one he can slip out of. The entire family is being strong-armed into attending and not making a scene until the donation period in the first half is over. 

Duke knows he’s not the only one who’s scrambling to get ready for a gala that’s taking place in three days, but they’re not helping him, so it feels like he’s the only one messing up. 

“Sorry!” he calls behind him as he sprints through a group of people. 

He could have asked someone to drive him, but he knows they’re all busy and doesn’t want his own poor time management to cause problems for anyone else. Even though he’s sure Bruce is looking for an excuse to get out of a mandatory Wayne Enterprises board meeting that both Lucius and Tim dragged him to.

RIP Bruce. He will be missed.

The Diamond District is full of people walking the streets, sprinting between parked cars and waiting for their rides. They’re all dressed nicely, making him feel out of place. It’s a feeling that’s never left him since he joined the Waynes but it’s particularly bad when he’s left to navigate these spaces alone. Rich people and socialites are a different kind of human, one that Duke doesn’t care to understand; there’s greed in all of them, turning them heartless, and they can give as much as they want to charity but it won’t change the fact that all they do is a performance to make people like them, rather than a desire to do anything good. 

The sooner this is over, the better. He keeps going, hoping that he can still make it to his appointment with the tailor. Alfred recommended the store, then set up the appointment, so all Duke has to do is trust their judgment as they get him fitted. He’s still got twenty minutes until the scheduled time, but some unspoken rule makes it so he has to show up fifteen minutes early for better service or risk being turned away and told to reschedule. 

Duke slows to a walk when he catches sight of the store, the trying to catch his breath and look more composed before he reaches the door. He takes a moment to straighten his clothes a bit, then opens the door and steps in.

The bell jingles pleasantly above his head. The store is empty of any other customers, and the employee at the front counter looks up with a plastered on smile. 

“I’ll be with you in a moment!” she says, then looks down at her phone and types something out before placing it under the counter. A tablet comes out instead and she swipes through a few screens, then sets it down and look at Duke again. “How can I help you, sir?”

“I have an appointment? For a suit fitting. Under the name Thomas.”

She taps on the screen for a minute, then nods and gives him another customer service smile. “Alright, I’ll go ahead and grab the tailor. They’ll be out with your suit soon. Please, feel free to take a seat or browse some of our suits. We just recently got a new collection in from Italy.”

“Sure, thanks. I’ll just… be here, I guess.”

The employee takes her tablet and disappears through a door, leaving him alone in the store. He doesn’t want to sit down, not while his heart is still trying to settle from his sprint through half of Diamond District, so Duke wanders around the neat stacks of dress shirts and vests, pants and belts and shoes lined up neatly against the walls. 

He takes a moment to shoot Alfred a text that he’s at the tailor for his fitting appointment. Steph’s sent him a long string of videos online, and he’s just about to go through them when the bell rings again. 

Duke glances up and watches a guy walk into the store. He looks around, makes eye contact with Duke, then quickly looks down, taking a seat by the door.

Probably another upper class citizen uncomfortable with the fact that someone in jeans and a hoodie is shopping for suits. Shaking his head lightly, Duke wanders deeper into the store to get some distance between them so they could ignore each other more easily. It’s only until the tailor comes out, and then he can go to a fitting room and be done with this whole thing, so Duke resigns himself to suffering through the tense silence. 

How long is he even supposed to wait? He can only look at clothes in one of three colors before he gets bored. 

He goes to another rack, trying to see if he can notice anything different about these shirts. 

And then he hears a shoe scuff against the floor behind him. He tenses up, but before he can turn around, a belt is wound around his throat, pulling him back and choking him. 

Duke drops his weight, tucking his chin and gets a hand against the inside of the belt to try to push it away. His back hits someone’s chest and he’s trapped, focused on trying not to be choked to death while also keeping his vigilante abilities and meta powers secret. 

More footsteps come from behind, and a soaked cloth is pressed against his nose and mouth.

Chloroform, he realizes, familiar with the smell from Bruce’s training. But training isn’t enough to keep him from being knocked out, and he quickly slips away from the waking world, falling to the ground. 

Just before he passes out completely, he hears the employee who greeted him say, “I’m not sure how much Wayne would be willing to pay for him, but let’s start high and negotiate lower. New kid can’t possibly be worth that much…”

Duke wakes up groggily, memories of what happened quickly snapping into place. He’s too out of it still to get up, but he’s awake enough to be offended. Sure he’s the new kid, and barely even a Wayne, but he’s still worth a lot!

Kidnappers these days. So rude.

He doesn’t hear anyone around him, and it feels like he’s lying on a cold concrete floor. Basement, maybe? Warehouse? Storage unit tucked away somewhere? There’s nothing much to see when Duke is able to open his eyes, squinting bareilly at his surroundings. His arms are tied behind him, wrists bound, but they left his legs alone. 

If he could just hit the panic button on his bracelet…

Duke wiggles around, fighting through the lingering effects of Chloroform, and manages to sit up. If he strains his hearing, he thinks he can hear voices outside of the empty room he’s been left in. There’s a window high up, too high for a normal person to reach without help, but if he can use the shadows to travel through it, then he may be able to escape on his own. 

First things first: he needs to free his hands before anyone comes in to check on him.

They used zip ties on him, which is inconvenient. He’s learned how to get out of them, but it’s difficult enough without being drugged and having to do it behind his back. 

He’s feeling the zip ties bite into his wrists just as there’s a crash from outside the room. His kidnappers yell, alarmed, and are quickly silenced. That’s rarely ever a good sign. Duke renews his efforts to escape, ignore the pain in pushing against his binds like this. 

The door opens. Duke hears the small click of a lock disengaging and freezes. Then he gets to his feet, still unsteady, and prepares to ram his head into anyone who comes near him like some sort of deranged battering ram, or a drunk raging bull. 

Duke is ready for the worst: a gang hoping to steal away a Wayne hostage, a Rogue, Gnomon popping in to cause trouble for the sole purpose of getting on Duke’s nerve. 

He’s not expecting another teenage boy, who is literally glowing, to poke his head in and zero in on Duke. He blinks, then smiles; it’s friendly and sincere, nothing like the employee who helped kidnap him. 

“Hey!” he says, coming into the room properly. He’s floating a good foot off the ground, eyes a bright neon green, with white hair that sways as if he’s underwater. “Are you okay? I saw them drag you out of the back of the store and followed them, but I got a bit lost. Sorry for taking so long to get here.”

“...It’s fine?” Duke offers, trying to wrap his head around what’s happening. “I wasn’t expecting a rescue so soon, anyways. Think you can help me out here?”

“Yeah, of course!” he flies closer, then drops down to the ground behind Duke. He hums lightly under his breath, and then Duke feels a cold touch on his wrist and the zip ties are suddenly gone. 

Duke blinks, then brings his arms in front of him. He moves around a bit to make sure he’s not hallucination, and sure enough, he’s free and unbound because a random meta teenager vanished the zip ties into the ether, or something. 

“Thanks, man. Any idea where we are?”

“Not a clue. I got lost coming here, and I was following them. I don’t think you should trust any directions I give.”

“Fair enough,” Duke laughs. “I’m Duke, by the way.”

“Phantom.”

“Well, thanks for the save, Phantom. Can I treat you to something?”

“Like, coffee?”

“Sure. Or brunch, or ice cream. Whatever you want, really.”

Phantom considers it for a moment, then shakes his head. “Sorry, I would love to but going out in public looking like this,” he gestures to himself, “Is not a great idea. Thanks for the offer though. You got a ride?”

Duke pats his pockets, then sighs. “My phone’s gone. I still have my wallet, though.”

“I fly you to someplace you can call someone, if you’d like.”

“You sure? I could probably just walk out of here and call a taxi.”

“I don’t think walking around by yourself after being kidnapped is a great idea,” Phantom says, doubtfully. “Seriously, let me fly you.”

He should just hit the panic button and wait for someone to show up to get him. He shouldn’t go to some unknown location with a meta he literally just met. 

But, you know what? No one else can say they got kidnapped twice in one day, so Duke nods and says, “Sure, sweep me off my feet, Phantom. You gotta commit to this rescue.”

Phantom laughs. And then he does sweep Duke off his feet into a princess carry with a cheeky grin and flies them out the building, which turns out to be an abandoned apartment building slated for demolition. 

“Keep this up and you’ll be replacing Superman in no time,” Duke jokes.

“I think I could manage it,” Phantom replies thoughtfully. “I mean, I’m already prettier than him, don’t you think?”

“Oh, definitely. The glow really brings out your eyes.”

Phantom gets him a few blocks away when Duke recognizes where they are, and quickly directs him into Crime Alley. They land on top of one of Jason’s safe houses, and while he’s sure there’s enough security to take out a SWAT Team, that’s absolutely not going to stop him from breaking in to use one of Jason’s burner phones and eat his leftovers. 

He’s set down on his feet gently, and as soon as Phantom sees that he’s fine, able to walk and everything, he floats back up, just out of reach.

“Be careful, okay?” he says, getting ready to leave.

“I’ll do my best. Hey, are you gonna be in Gotham for a while, or…?”

Phantom gives him a tired smile. “Nah. I’m just passing through. As long as my luck doesn’t get even worse, then I should be out of here in a few days.”

“Shame,” Duke says, giving Phantom a very visible once over. He’s pretty tall, and Duke can see some muscle on him, and the tight black outfit really adds to his look. The glow that comes out of his chest makes him look ethereal and Duke is beyond glad that he got such a charming rescuer.

Phantom doesn’t blush like a normal person. He glows brighter instead, curling into himself a bit as he looks away, unable to stop the smile from growing on his face. 

“I guess,” he shrugs. “Are you really going to be alright from here?”

“Yeah, man, I have a friend who lives here. I’ll just bother him until he agrees to give me a ride.”

“Alright.” Phantom drifts away, glancing behind him before turning back to Duke. “I’ll get going then. Take care, Duke!”

Duke waves and watches as Phantom begins to fly away. Then Phantom… disappears? Or rather, his body does but Duke can see an orb of light making its way across Gotham, almost like a star fallen from the sky.

He stays on the roof until the light is long gone. When he’s finally ready to go in and steal from Jason, the sun has completely set. 

And he still doesn’t have his suit.

Duke sighs, and mentally prepares himself to other day of stressing out about the gala.

Three days of stress and last minute scrambling leave Duke in the Gotham Museum of Modern Art with Steph, Tim, Cass, and Damian. They’re hiding in the photography gallery to avoid other guests, taking a break from being polite and letting thinly veiled, passive aggressive insults slide over them.

.

.

.

“How much longer must we suffer this before we can go?” Damian grumbles, looking like he’s do anything to get his hands on a blade. Which, considering how many people tried to either pinch his cheeks are say some racist remark about him and his mother, is totally fair. Duke would just punch them, but sometimes a little drama helped get the message across. 

“At least two more hours,” Tim says, not bothering to look up from his phone. From what few glimpses of the screen Duke caught, he’s leading a Titans missions through text and clever hacking. Though it may be more accurate to call is a Young Justice mission since there’s no way any of this was authorized by a Justice League member. 

Also Anita, suited up as Empress, is there. If they aren’t on the news for property destruction and absolutely batshit wild shenanigans, Duke will have to check on Tim to make sure he’s not a pod person sent to infiltrate the family. 

“Think we can sneak out without anyone noticing?” Steph asks, looking at the emergency exit longingly.

Cass shakes her head and points to the door leading to the ballroom. When they look over, Dick makes very deliberate eye contact with them and give them a smile that looks stretched across his face.

Tim winces and pushes Duke. “Oh, something went down. Go take over for him and let Dick rest in here for a bit.”

“Man, why does it have to be me?” he grumbles even as he stands. Dick lets out a heavy breath and gives Duke a grateful smile, patting on the shoulder before shoving him out the door. 

As soon as he’s back into the main hallway, the music and chatter swell, no longer muffled by the thick walls of the photography wing. A few people come and go from the ballroom, no doubt looking for the restroom. 

Or more private places for… other things. Things they definitely shouldn’t be doing in an art museum.

He really can’t wait for this night to be over.

Duke joins the rest of the guests, fake smile on his face, and quickly makes his way to the snack table. He might as well make the most of his time stuck out here. Maybe he could even cause another relationship scandal by implying that Bruce is sleeping with one of partners when in hearing distance of a couple. Maybe even both of them. 

Bruce would go with it. It’s hilarious and he also needs something to make these events bearable.

Sadly, he doesn’t see any good targets as he scans the ballroom. A few people are dancing, while others are talking in small circles, closed off from outsiders. There’s an entire table of old ladies with glasses of wine in front of them; Duke considers hanging around them, since they confess to a lot of crimes after a few glasses. It’s fascinating. 

Also, he does kind of miss hanging out with the one old lady who’s declared herself his high society grandmother and told him stories of how she used to go to bars to find racist people or Klan members during the Jim Crow era, seduce them, then poison them and get their addresses so a few gangs she was friends with would fuck them up.

Granny Kaliasto is the coolest person ever. 

Just as he’s about to finish his last mini rolled crepe, Duke catches sight of one of the few teenagers still in the ballroom. The others, mostly stuck up rich kids no one actually likes, have already left to take over some other part of the museum to gossip until their parents decide it’s time to go home. These two are clearly not part of that crew, what with the girl being very goth and in a poofy, ripped dress, and the boy having already taken his jacket off to keep over his forearm, the top button of his shirt popped open.

They might be cool. He’s hoping they’re cool because he desperately needs some company to keep from dying of boredom while the gala continues on.

Duke walks over to them, going around the side of the ballroom, until he’s close enough to hear them talking.

The boy has his back to Duke, but the girl sees him. She immediately scowls and slaps the boys shoulder, eyes locked on Duke.

“Got another comment about my dress?” she says, voice sharp and acidic.

“Another?” Duke repeats. “I was just bored and wanted to talk to people who were my age. Sorry?”

The boy smacks the girl’s arm, then turns to face Duke. “Sorry about her! Sam is just naturally rude and aggressive. Tonight’s been a bit rough, with this crowd.”

Duke goes to say something, but the words stick in his throat when he sees the boy’s eyes shift from deep blue to an electric green. When he focuses, he can see a faint glow in his chest, the same glow he saw in Phantom.

“Dude? You alright?”

Sam looks him over judgmentally. “I guess it’s nice that I’m not being ogled for once, but don’t do that shit to Danny either.”

“Wait, that’s not what I was doing!” Duke hurries to say, snapped out of his shock. “I just… you look a lot like someone I met recently.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. What was your name? I’m Duke, by the way.”

He holds out a hand, and the boy shakes it with a small smile. “Danny. I don’t think we’ve met. I mean, I’m only here because Sam wouldn’t come to this gala without me, so her parents flew me in.”

“You from out of town?”

“Sam and I are from Illinois. Her parents are traveling around the east coast right now, and they decided to spend a week in Gotham to talk business.”

“I’d ask how it is, but outsiders tend to really hate Gotham, so…”

Sam barks out a sharp laugh. “Oh please, we can handle Gotham. Our town might not be as big and well known as Gotham, but we got our own shit to deal with there.”

“I do get shot at a lot back home,” Danny adds thoughtfully. “And that’s without the ghosts.”

“Woah, what?”

“Up for a bit of a story?” Danny asks, impish grin on his face. By his side, Sam brings a hand up to cover a manic smile, shoulders already shaking with laughter. 

This is already better than the grandma gang. Duke leans against the wall, getting settled in, and says, “Always, man. Hit me with it.”

The next hour an a half passes quickly with Sam and Danny dramatically narrating some of the things that have happened in their town. Duke listens, absolutely enraptured, and doesn’t even notice the Waynes file into the ballroom again. 

Unfortunately, they bring with them the attention of most of the ballroom, including Bruce and Sam’s parents. 

She cuts the current story about Box Ghost short with a heavy sigh. “Hold up, I need to greet the Waynes properly while my parents are watching.” She steps in front of Duke and Danny, holding out a hand with a pained smile.

Tim takes it first, giving a solid shake, and introductions start. 

Free from the rules of high society, if only for the moment, Duke leans closer to Danny and whispers to him, “Phantom. Wanna get out of here?”

Danny flinches and turns to him looking panicked. “How did you know?”

“I kinda got magic eyes. I see a lot of things normal humans can’t. Don’t worry about it. I still owe you, so you wanna get out of here?”

He watches as Danny glances around the ballroom, then back to him, clearly weighing out his options. Then he nods and says, “Know where to get a good milkshake around here?”

“Sure do.”

“I guess you’re the one rescuing me this time.”

“Not a rescue,” Duke corrects, and casually picks Danny up over his shoulder into a fireman’s carry, “A kidnapping.”

Danny laughs and waves Sam and all the others goodbye as Duke marches out of the ballroom.

“Don’t bother me for the next two hours!” he calls to the Waynes, “I’m going on a date!”

There are shocked gasps and murmurs all through the crowd. But as he spins around to wave at his shocked and easily amused family, he also catches sight of Granny Kaliasto raising her half full wine glass towards him.

She really is the coolest.

He’s definitely telling her all about this at the next event they attend together. It’ll be nice to have a few stories of his own to share.

[silent-sanctum]

hiii mijin! hope you are doing well 💕 can i req a beach day with jotaro and the crusaders, y/n getting hit on, joot getting jealous, pol and kak clowning him, those shoujo anime cliche we all know and love 😂 thanks !

Hello anon! Your beach day request has been heard! Initially, I had this planned to only be at most 600+ words, but then I went ahead and found the plot to be... a lot more 😬 Also this takes place in an au where everyone survives post-DIO's World. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! ♡

Volleyball - Jotaro x Reader

word count: 2.2k

It’s been 3 months since DIO’s defeat and no one else deserves a break more than the Crusaders.

Everyone had time to recover from their injuries and although some had worse wounds than others, they still managed to make it out of the otherwise deadly voyage alive.

It was Joseph’s idea for the team to meet-up once more in a popular beach near New York-to hang out as friends for once rather than just allies or colleagues. He promised that any expenses in relation to this one-time hangout would be covered using the “good old Joestar funds” as the old man put it.

And since the new school year wouldn’t start until a month after, and that being around familiar faces was a nice experience, Jotaro wasn’t opposed into joining, more so after knowing you were going too.

Speaking off, a part of him held onto this ounce of pride when you and Jotaro decided to be something more than being “just close friends” and who would’ve guessed that this decision would be made in the middle of a mission to save his mother.

Now, not only is Holly alive and well but he also gained a new lover for her to dote on and gush with.

And whether it was conscious or not, you both stuck around for each other, often finding ways to meet one way or another. It felt nice to have you here with him no matter the place.

So having to hop on board a plane yet again and fly off to the States for a day or two wouldn’t be too excruciating when he knew you’d be there to make the sudden meeting a bit more tolerable.

Day after arrival, here he was- sitting underneath a beach umbrella in his dark shorts, drinking juice while watching his grandfather and Polnareff compete at a game of volleyball. You were there beside him in the shade, dressed in a loose blouse and shorts, applying sun screen as you attempted to convince him to play a game with the crew.

I’d rather be at home. Despite your many tries, Jotaro stayed stubborn and said he’d be fine watching you play with the guys. You didn’t push the offer again and after a sip of your citrus drink and a quick peck on his cheek, off you went to lead a waiting Kakyoin to the playing field.

And for the next few hours, it mostly stayed like this- Jotaro and Avdol resting underneath the shade, him watching the volleyball match with his Walkman in hand listening to music, the Egyptian reading a worn-out book that’s most probably from his archives, and the rest of the group out in the sun playing their 3rd round.

Throughout his time there, Jotaro kept his eye on the game and on you specifically, mirroring your excited smile and laughter with his more subtle lip curl and huffs. In an addition to having himself be yours, the relationship helped him negate all the passing girls who took interest in him and tried to approach him.

Not that he had a hard time ignoring them to begin with it.

What Jotaro hadn’t considered was the onlooking men taking interest of you, and the thought struck him square in head when as a volleyball match ended, one of the nearby boys- an American with a blonde mop of hair and tan skin- walked over to you all smiling and shit.

Normally, you conversing with someone with the opposing sex wouldn’t bother him this much, but the second he watched the guy offering you an ice cream cone bought from the nearby vendor, he could hear himself scoff and scowl. “Why’d you accept that?” He muttered, continuing to glare at the man consistently keeping up a lively conversation with you. “What are they even talking about this long?”

“Such an irritating sight that is, right?” Jotaro glanced at Polnareff coming over to be annoying and take part in this dilemma. Behind him, Kakyoin followed. Both of them crouched by the delinquent and joined him in watching you talk with a stranger. “Can’t be helped when she’s just as attractive as you are.”

“You didn’t seem to mind it when boys from our school approached her though,” Kakyoin said.

“It’s because I know they won’t risk meeting me when they think of trying,” Jotaro replied. “But I got a feeling that guys from here are more gutsy than in Japan.”

To hammer down on that point, the blond began to point to his biceps and not-so-subtly flexed them for you to see, and you responded with a calm, wide-eyed “woah”. Jotaro rolled his eyes, rubbing a hand over his thick bicep once. “Why not head over there then? If you’re this jealous?” Polnareff said.

“I’m not jealous.” Both the cherry-haired and Frenchman stayed silent, giving him a mere deadpan. “… Fine. Just a bit.”

“So go there and introduce yourself as her boyfriend in your-” Kakyoin gestured over Jotaro’s frame. “-punk delinquent-esque ways.”

“And you can’t judge us for poor advice anymore when Nori here upgraded from telling you how to do things to instead doing things your way!” Kakyoin nodded, bumping fists with Polnareff.

Jotaro judged them regardless with one vertical look-over at the both of them. “I still don’t trust any of your advises. Besides,” he sighed. “After knowing her more, I don’t think she’d like me suddenly walking there and getting possessive.”

“But it’s not being possessive when you’re establishing boundaries monsieur Kujo,” Pol said.

“Don’t call me that,” Jotaro scowled. “Also I don’t get why you two are always in my business. It’s annoying. Leave me alone.”

Not that his “threats” were effective against this duo, who simply shared a look with each other before replying. “What are you talking about? We’re buddies!” Polnareff chuckled, wrapping an arm around the raven-haired teenager. “Who am I to leave a pal behind to wallow in their own self-pity?”

“Also to be honest, it’s entertaining to see you struggle over stuff like this,” Kakyoin said with a smirk. That and paired with those shades he bought from Egypt just made him all the more smug. “Gets all the ladies but can’t handle one-”

“You shut-”

“Hey!” All three paused to look at you waving from a distance with that damn American and his friends still standing near you. “These guys want to play a round but Grandpa Joseph’s tapping out for the day. I’m afraid his bones have become too brittle-”

“No it’s not!” Said the groaning old man plopping down on the sand the moment he reached his and Avdol’s shared blanket. “I didn’t want to overpower those kids that’s all!”

“L-”

“We’re tougher than we look gramps!” The blond called out in return just as Jotaro was about to say something to you. And that didn’t help alleviate any increasing irritation boiling in him. “How about you guys?”

“Us?” Pol asked.

“Yeah! A friendly competition between us youngsters sound good?” He said, ball already in hand. “Just one set of 2v2!”

“I’m down-”

Whatever Kakyoin had to say about accepting the invite got cut off as Jotaro stood from his spot and walked over to your side with his hands in his short pockets. By the time you were beside him, the blond and his posse faltered for a second when they saw how much taller, built, and intimidating this supposed teenager from Japan was compared to them.

“I’m joining.”

You gazed up at him with widened eyes and a dash of pink to your cheeks. “Jotaro-ssi…”

“O-Oh for sure man,” the American cleared his throat, nervous as he looked over his shoulder to his friends. “How about you guys-”

“You chickening out?” Jotaro said in his characteristic blunt mannerisms. “You wanted to play volleyball, looked for a player, and now that he’s here, you’re passing the torch to your buddies?” From the corner of his vision, you crossed your arms facing them, more amused than pissed at his intervention.

He could spot the single bead of sweat dripping down the side of his face and his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tried to play off his cold feet with false bravado. “Nothing wrong than wanting to let my pals have a shot at a game, but since you’re asking for it,” he made show as he tossed and caught the ball. “It’s game on. Though I got to warn you, I have a nasty spike.”

“It’s true!” Polnareff yelled out from the sidelines. “I saw how he moves on the other net.”

Jotaro rolled his eyes and walked off to your side of the field. “Hey, do you even know how to play volleyball?” You said with a whisper. “You haven’t played once during our time here.”

“I’ve watched you and the others play this entire afternoon enough times for me to figure out how to do it,” he said with casual ease, glancing down at you with a shrug. “If a novice can beat an expert Darby at his favorite baseball game, then this will be nothing.”

“Well yeah but you know playing a video game is drastically different than playing an actual game, right?”

He huffed, unbothered. “Makes this better for me.”

With everyone in their respective spots, one of the blond’s friends served as the referee and starting from the other guy’s side, the whistle blew and the ball flew.

True to his word and his ability to study and adapt on the spot, Jotaro managed to keep up with you and his opponents on the playing field, exchanging the ball countless times without break. All the while, the Crusaders watched this one game like die-hard fans at the Superbowl.

It shouldn’t be that much of a shocker when he knew that both of you had physical advantages: Your lithe self allowing you to be more agile and nimble to traverse the court and catch the ball before it fell, while he had the strength and height to send the ball back to the other side, often times targeted to the edges.

And just as the timer was about to hit the 29 minute mark, Jotaro noticed the American get into a stance with a smirk plastered over his tan face. He cocked his head and rose a brow. The nasty spike I assume.

You sent the ball flying to their side and just as he predicted, the blond took over center field and leapt, arm reared and hand poised to deliver his so-called “nasty spike”.

His palm got into contact with the ball’s surface and with a clear smack, the ball was sent flying over to your side. But as he was about to receive, a glint of rose gold zipped past his vision and next thing he knew, the ball was up in the air as if it was caught mid flight to the ground.

One second glimpse at your knowing look, Jotaro didn’t hesitate to follow your footsteps. He leapt off the sand and rose his hand. In that split second, Star Platinum’s purple gloved hand enveloped his and upon contact with its surface, the ball practically launched itself at the American at a raging speed akin to an incoming missile.

The sand erupted in a loud boom, causing a shallow crater with plumes of sand flying off in many directions as the ball hit the ground. It rolled off the now-incapacitated blond stranger’s body.

His friends couldn’t even move nor make the effort to blow the whistle from the shock of it all.

Jotaro tongued the inside of his cheek, casually pocketing his hands back in his shorts as he glared at the American. “Nasty spike ,” he scoffed. “What a joke.”

You whistled, impressed as you looked down the crater. “You did a number on him.”

He reached over to grab your wrist. “Let’s get out of here.” With a gentle tug, you complied to his wish and followed him out the sandy court. He didn’t even bother meeting up with the Crusaders, who were equally stunned at what had happened.

“You’re not at all questioning why I’m not at all offended at you knocking the man out?”

“I’m questioning why you decided to cheat and use Sanctuary midway.”

“The game was ending in a minute anyways,” you said. “And I wanted to finish it off with a bang.”

“By letting me launch a ball at his face?” You smiled and nodded. “And you’re okay with that?”

“He’s a weirdo,” you grimaced. “His fetishes were showing when he said something about how exotic and pretty I was, and it pissed me off.”

Hearing that made Jotaro want to turn around to the guy for one more solid punch to the face. “But I saw you talking to him for that long.”

“Made you jealous, didn’t it?” You said, smug. “I lowkey wanted to bait you into playing a game with me by riling you up a bit, and for you to finish off that creep with what he deserved.”

“I wasn’t-” He bit his tongue, not finishing his train of thought. “I was a bit jealous and I’m glad I got to wreck that shit-eating face of his in the process, but can you not make me feel like this on purpose? It doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Duly noted and I’m sorry,” you said, eyes cast downward as you bowed your head a bit in sincere apology. “I’ll just tell you outright who and when to punch someone next time, promise!”

Jotaro paused in his tracks and with one good look at your determined sparkling eyes, couldn’t help but sigh and smile at you with uncharacteristic fondness.

“Yeah... I’d prefer that.”

[drurrito]

Are You The One? - One

A/N: I've been sitting on this idea for a minute. Some quick background on AYTO: it's a gameshow -- there's usually 9 or 10 couples that are matched based on compatibility. They have about 10 weeks to figure it out by playing games and going on dates. They pair off at "matching ceremonies" to see how many light beams they get to clue them in on who might be a perfect match. Anyway, here goes nothing--all mistakes are mine of course.

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, cursing, Jerk!Vision lol

------------

No match!

Wanda stares at the screen, mouth agape and mind racing. Vis squeezes her hand.

"Wanda-"

"You're not my match," Wanda whispered, "you're not my match and we only have two matching ceremonies to figure everything out."

"That doesn't change what we have," he turns to her, taking both her hands into his.

"It changes everything," Wanda bites, "I wasted so much time with you," she runs a frustrated hand through her hair. Vis just stands there, arms stupidly hanging by his sides. Wanda thought she was winning this game by sticking with him. She ignored everyone's pleads for her to pick someone else the last few matching ceremonies. That one beam of light was her and Vis without a doubt.

Until now.

"My match is still here," she's quiet again. Vis looks like he's still processing. He's been extremely persuasive up until this point. Vis would just talk Wanda out of actually playing the game every time she mentioned talking with anyone else. To the rest of the house, he sounded like a broken record, but to Wanda--he sounded like her favorite song.

"So, that's it?" Vis mumbles, his face contorts into something like disbelief, he looks foolish.

"That's the point, Vis," Wanda doesn't spare a second glance at him as she leaves.

----------------

The house buzzes with conversation. Wanda is sitting on the patio alone, twirling her glass in her hand.

"Hey," Shuri slowly approaches the seat across from Wanda. After the Truth Booth, everyone gave Wanda some kind of sympathy. A hug, some words, tight smiles and other gestures that did nothing to stop Wanda's stomach from churning something awful. The guilt has been making her shoulders sag heavily since coming back.

"We've been crunching the numbers," Shuri starts again, Wanda keeps her eyes on the dancing glass in her hand.

"We think your match could be y/n."

That gets a side glance and cocked eyebrow from Wanda, "she barely talks."

"Because she makes you do all the talking," Shuri shoots Wanda a knowing look who only rolls her eyes in response. You were good at getting Wanda to talk on your group dates. It only took a few questions to spark a conversation among the whole group, actually. Sometimes you just shared a comfortable silence, it threw Wanda off so bad. How can you connect with someone without a conversation?

"Look, y/n has won two dates in a row with you, that's two more dates than Vis ever won. Plus, you guys haven't sat together at a matching ceremony yet. If it's not you, then it has to be Carol--but we don't have any more time left to figure this out. If some of our guesses end up being correct this week, then we can figure out the rest of the matches from there."

"So you want me to sit with someone that I have no chemistry with?" Wanda asks, trying not to sound less than amused with the plan.

"Technically, you don't have chemistry with anyone," Shuri says without missing a beat, it makes Wanda flinch.

"But," Shuri drawls, "now that Vis isn't helicoptering over you, there are a few days to see if something sparks between you and y/n before the ceremony."

Wanda shifts in her seat with a heavy sigh that all but burns her nose. Outside the island, finding love is hardly ever a team effort. But in this game, teamwork is key. While getting a blackout would have costed money from the prize fund, it would have crossed off a lot of potential couples. That one beam belongs to someone, just not to Wanda and Vis.

"Have you talked to y/n about this?"

"Told her before your Truth Booth," Shuri flashes a nervous smile, "if it's any consolation, she was also hesitant at first."

Wanda can't help but look puzzled. She chews on her bottom lip for a few moments before nodding slowly.

"Alright, I'm in."

------------

Wanda walks back into the house with Shuri. Everyone is sitting around in the living room, half of the group is gossiping about Bruce and Natasha sneaking off into the boom boom room for one last time. Shuri gives Wanda a parting glance before sitting down next to Namor. Half the room has paired off into new couples, Wanda realizes. Vis is nursing a bottle between Tony and Steve, Wanda doesn't look at him as she makes her way over to you. You're busy nodding along to whatever Thor is talking about, while Carol is leaning against you as she talks to Maria. Your eyes are on Wanda as soon as she fills in the space between you and Thor.

"Hey," you give a warm smile that Wanda barely notices over the burn of the alcohol in her throat.

"Hey," she rasps back to you.

"I'm sorry about today," you look frustratingly genuine as Wanda searches your eyes for a few beats, looking for a reason to be mad at you. She gives up, turning back to her glass to down the rest in one gulp.

"Yeah, me too."

---------

As it turns out, you're also good at having conversations. It only took one "and what about you?" from Wanda to get you to actually participate. Vis was seething from his spot on the couch until Tony tugged him away to talk with another group. Maria had to do the same against Carol's protests when she realized you and Wanda were trying to hit it off. Your housemates continued to leave until it was just the both of you sitting on the couch. Wanda never noticed. She figured the two of you were alone this whole time with the way you looked at her.

Wanda is listening to you talk about your favorite movie when she fails to stifle a yawn.

"Shit, it's late," you watch the clock in the kitchen, realizing that you can hear it's ticking now. The rest of the house is dead silent. Wanda thumbs at the ring on her index finger. Shit, where is she supposed to sleep now? All the beds are likely taken.

Except for one.

"Hey," your voice is gentle, "I can sleep on the couch, you take the bed."

"I'm not going to ask you to do that-"

"You don't have to," you take a breath, "I just want to give you space, if you want it."

Wanda's brows furrow, space? She thinks back to the night when Vis made out with Hope and insisted on sleeping splayed on top of Wanda afterward. Space was never an option with Vis, that's why she's looking at you like you just grew a second head. You wordlessly grab Wanda's glass to wash, your way of giving her some time to think it over. You're drying off your hands when Wanda walks up to the bar.

"What side of the bed do you sleep on?"

-------------

Wanda tries not to think about the fact that you like to sleep on the left side while she tries to fall asleep on the right, the side she prefers.

[zizbombs]

Is there a more useless cape in the bay than triumph?

After much soul searching, wiki browsing and pondering, the answer to that question is yes. Yes there is.

Meet exhibit A: Trevor, AKA Chariot.

The worst fucking tinker to ever live.

Outwardly, very similar to Triumph. Complete mouthbreathing fodder.

What really puts Chariot in 'I would rather have greg veder have this power' tier is the fact that he had so much potential.

Chariot is a movement tinker, one who I cannot stress this enough, HAS ACCESS TO TELEPORTATION TINKERTECH.

TELEPORTATION TINKERTECH.

One more time for the people in the back,

TELEPORTATION.

TINKERTECH.

I could cry, really I could.

So first off, you need to understand just how good his power is. He literally made fucking POWER ARMOR that could go 100 mph with fucking dogshit scraps. Fucking power armor. The only other tinkers with power armor was trainwreck (a guy who's specialty is literally working with scraps) and Armsmaster, who's funded by the protectorate. And this guy just fuckin made some shit in his basement with an oven and a blowtorch or something.

He's got an extra dash of that shardstuff for sure. Also for some reason he just has extra insight into tinkertech? Just added on, for shits and giggles. His shard was forking over the shardbucks to give it's host a head start, too fucking bad it landed on literally the worst person in existence to have a tinker power. even fucking leet would be better than this idiot.

Not only that, he was able to copy trickster's power. Yk, trickster, just the guy with one of the most versatile and powerful powers in a street level setting and even beyond some of that, no biggie. fucking trickster.

This guy could scan movers and copy their powers.

In a world where this guy had a single braincell, he would've joined the protectorate, scanned strider's power and worked with dragon to set up fucking portals all around the united states or something.

Instead, we get this fucking brainlet.

I'm assuming he could also make some sort of neurological implant to speed up his thoughts to keep up with his tech, but thats just another failure of this troglodyte.

I still, I'm still laughing at how utterly fucking stupid this shit is, but one of his gadgets that he made.

So get this, he made a jetpack right, or a flight pack whatever. Guess what this dipshit decides to add in his shit. A fucking bomb. Yeah, he added a bomb in something he was carrying on his back. The reason? As far as im concerned, as a fucking escape route.

Yeah, you heard that right.

The MOVEMENT tinker, put a fucking bomb in their movement gear, to ESCAPE.

???

Unless he had some sort of secret 540000 iq plan to do something else with that bomb, but considering this guy's track record I doubt it. Even then that's fucking stupid. Why are you blowing up your gear? 'Oh hey! I got a great idea! Instead of doing literally anything else, how about I put an EXPLOSIVE right next to me in volatile tinkertech! What a great idea!'

Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself.

So, this guy triggered about a year before canon start. What was he doing in all of that time?

Literally fucking nothing.

All he did was just ride around at 3 am being a little shithead. A year btw, he did that for a year.

Then he eventually got caught by assault (lol) and was forced to talk to Kid Win. In an incredible play, since Chariot was working for coil and decided to become a rat, got DISCOVERED BEFORE HE EVEN SIGNED THE PAPERS. LOL?

This fucking dipshit was like 'Yeah, they'll never see it coming >:)' meanwhile the PRT had a meeting deciding to fucking just feed this guy faulty information. Can you fucking do anything 😭.

He just was taking L after L.

He's like Leet but he doesn't even have the excuse that his shard hates him.

He's literally Legend's long lost cousin.

no goals, no plans

what are you doing man? 😭

Worst fucking spy on the planet.

Literal shithead kid waking people up at 3 am going on joyrides, which would be based if he wasn't so stupid. Such a cool power too, definition of wasted potential. I just agh.

WHY DO YOU GET. LIKE. UNDERSTANDING OF OTHER TINKERS SHIT. JUST TACKED ON. WHY ARE YOU BUILT FOR COLLABS AND YOU DO NOTHING.

Only fucking this guy could take a teleportation tinker spec and be absolute fodder.

Im still laughing at the bomb shit. Why is your first thought as a movement tinker to put a fucking bomb inside of your tech. Like what? Instead of literally making anything else. Are you fucking stupid? Yes you are, you are stupid. Even if it wasn't an escape plan (still can't believe it WORKED as an escape plan.) Like, what are you gonna do, throw your shit at the guy your fighting then stumble away because you blew up all of your shit. This fucking guy.

Anyway, stay tuned for more hating.

[honeyjars-sims]

3.37 Soulmates

Today I’m spending some time with Pops. While I was camping, he found out that the LGBT center where he’s been working forever will be closing in just a couple weeks and he’ll be out of a job. It wasn’t unexpected–they’ve been having funding issues for a while–but it still sucks. Unfortunately, Dad is in San My for a gig this weekend, so I figure Pops could use some company.

“I’m really sorry about your job,” I tell him as he finishes washing the dishes. “Are you guys gonna be okay?”

“We have a good amount in savings, and I’ve already been in contact with someone at the LGBT center in Del Sol. They’ve all but offered me a position there that pays more and has more flexibility.”

“Wow, that’s great! So I guess you won’t have much of a reason to stay in Evergreen Harbor, then.”

“Not really. We could probably find a smaller place closer to the LGBT center.”

I know what that means. There’s no reason my parents should have to pay for another 3 bedroom house when their kids are grown. “I guess it’s time for me to find a place, too.”

“I’m sorry to spring it on you like this, but I think you’re ready for it.”

“Yeah, I am. I really appreciate you guys taking me in for as long as you did.”

“You’ve come a long way, Johnny. You’ll be just fine.”

“What about you? You’ll be all alone when Dad is traveling.”

“That’s the good thing about this job. I’ll be able to work remotely some, so I can travel with Dad sometimes.”

“Oh, that’s good then. I know it’s not easy for you two to be away from each other.” I pause. There’s something that’s been on my mind since I came back from my camping trip, and Pops seems like the perfect person to help me figure it out. “Do you think you and Dad are soulmates?”

“Soulmates? Hmm.” He stops for a moment to consider. “No, I don’t think we are,” he finishes.

“Really? Why not?” I'm taken aback by his answer. What does he mean, they're not soulmates?

“Well, you remember how Dad and I met, right?”

“Yeah, you saw each other at a protest and sparks flew or something cheesy like that.”

“Mm-hmm. But I don’t think I’ve ever told you the full story of what happened that night. Before I ended up at the protest, I was at your mom’s apartment–she told me she needed to talk to me about something. Instead, I told her I was gay and couldn’t be in a relationship with her anymore, and I left–without finding out that she was pregnant.”

“Oh. She was going to tell you that night?”

“Yes, until she decided that I wasn’t the kind of man that should raise children. If things had been different–if she had told me she was pregnant before I came out to her–I would have stayed.”

“You would’ve kept pretending to be straight?” I can't imagine what his life would have been like but it sounds pretty terrible. And to think he would have chosen that because of me and Chantal?

“For a while at least. And who knows, maybe eventually I would have found someone else to love and I’d still be happy. But I wouldn’t have met your dad that night.”

“Ok, but that didn’t happen. What does that have to do with being soulmates?”

“Because, Johnny, if I’d stayed with her a little longer then the things that happened to you and Chantal at your mom’s house wouldn’t have happened. I would have been there to keep you safe and well cared for. I just can’t believe that your Dad and I were meant to be together when the circumstances that led to us meeting were also the circumstances that led to my children being hurt and neglected.”

“Well, maybe it’s fate and you would’ve met a different way.” I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around what Pops is saying. A world where he and Dad aren't together just doesn't make sense.

“Maybe. But I don’t think any of these hypotheticals really matter. Like you said, that’s not what happened. What matters is that today, in the here and now, I can’t imagine my life without him. Any reason in particular why you’re thinking about soulmates?” He raises his eyebrows knowingly.

“I guess it’s more that I’m wondering how you know if someone is the right person for you, but it kind of sounds like it’s not that simple.”

“Well, a sign isn’t going to drop down from the heavens that says ‘This person is the one,’ but it doesn’t have to be complicated. Find the person you can’t imagine your life without. I don’t know if that’s what you were wanting to hear, but I hope it answers your question.”

Find the person you can’t live without. Maybe there aren’t signs falling from the sky, but those words are about as close as I’ll get. “It does," I tell him. "It may not be the answer I was expecting, but I think it cleared something up for me.”

“I see. Do you want to talk about it?"

Normally I would jump at the chance to get some input, but now I don't feel like I need it. I shake my head. “No, I think I can handle it from here.” The thought makes me nervous, but I can’t avoid this. I need to talk to Lacey.

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

[theresattrpgforthat]

Do you know of any solo RPGs that allow you to simulate a group/faction/place and many different NPCs? I guess I'm looking for something like a Sims or Dwarf Fortress but in the form of a TTRPG. Let me create a town and its inhabitants and roll or draw cards to determine what happens to them, or something like that. Thanks!

THEME: Solo "Sims" Games

Hello friend, these are some games coming from a few different angles but all have the common theme of interacting with a community or a group. I couldn't find a lot that allows you to play a number of characters at once, but there are a number of games that still ask you to manage a lot of people as one person! I hope you find them useful!

The Spiritpath Hotel, by 89 Lightwatch Avenue.

You are the owner of a fine establishment called The Spiritpath Hotel. Guests have come from all over to stay. The hotel mysteriously called them here, sensing that each of them are missing something important in their lives. They don't know what it is yet, so it's up to you to figure it out.

No one believes magic exists. Your guests think they are here to enjoy a vacation, but you know better. They came because your hotel promised them happiness they can't get anywhere else. You have a special power that lets you grant one thing to each person you meet and you use it to help your guests.

Discover who your guests are, figure out something important that they need, and provide it to them in a way only you can.

You’re not necessarily embodying all of the characters in this game, but you are continuously meeting and helping new NPCs as you play. This game uses a tarot deck or a random number generator to provide you with prompts, and you’ll learn more about your guests the longer they stay. I appreciate that the designer has included a reference sheet and worksheets to help you play - and the fact that you need them points to a management system that might feel similar to the Sims.

Dino Park, by Armanda.

So, you want to be part of DINO PARK. You’ve been chosen to work with us for a season! You must be thrilled! We’re the first park that through science brought Dinosaurs back to life. And you have a chance to work with us. 

We’re counting on your qualities as a human being and as a professional to make this park your home for these eight weeks. We will train you to be an outstanding member of our team. These weeks with us are going to be a life-changing experience. 

Dino Park gives you gear to help you take care of the dinosaurs in the form of a coin and a number of polyhedral dice, so I’m assuming that most resolution in this game revolves around using your gear to help you do certain things. You’ll also have personal skills and weaknesses that look like they’ll come into play depending on how you decide to solve problems. Your character will receive calls for help throughout the park, so it looks like you’ll be interact with dinosaurs and humans alike, and the game also advertises a catastrophe track - so if things truly go south, you’ll have to hightail it out of there in the style of Jurassic Park!

This game is probably good for folks who love nature games, dinosaurs, or fighting against a slowly building disaster.

Save The Community Radio!, by Wizard of Ox.

You and your group of friends used to run a radio station, giving up your weekends and nights to make sure your local community got a fresh dose of soundwaves. The problem is that, as time passed, most of your friends stopped doing so, except for you, who are still passionately trying to keep it up and running (and failing, mostly). 

Now the local government is threatening to cut funding and shut down your station unless you can prove that you can handle it, but to do so, you have to get your friends back together. Navigate the fallout of your previous relationships with each character and convince them to help you save the radio, or live to see it be shut down.

Save the Community Radio! is a solo journaling RPG focused on building relationships with multiple characters whom you have grown apart from in order to save something you collectively spent your youth trying to build. It heavily relies on these connections and how you interpret them, with prompts and actions chosen by dices and decks, but enough leeway for you to write your characters however you want.

This game uses a deck of playing cards and some 6-side dice to help you build the world where your community radio is about to fail. You work for the radio, and you’re trying to get your friends to care about it again. However, not all of your friends feel positive about you anymore, so you might have to mend those relationships first.

The deck of cards provides prompts for different problems that show up as you play, such as broken equipment or lack of guests for broadcast. You’ll likely need different kinds of people to call on to fix these problems - and hopefully you can fix your relationships with your friends before you lose all resources entirely! If you want a game about building connections, this is your game.

Note: This game comes as a RAR file, so you’ll need to make sure you have an application on your computer that can turn it into a PDF.

Crow Island: funeral//PROCESSION, by Tenbear.

funeral // PROCESSION is a solo TTRPG introducing you to the universe of Crow Island, a sci-fi fantasy world centering Indigenous people and People of Colour. Following the destruction of your village by a Corrupt Spirit you and Members of the Moon Clan will transport the body of your Chief through the wilderness of the Porcupine Nation to the City of Seven Nations for proper burial.

This is a survival game, where you play as a clan but it doesn’t seem necessary to name each clan’s members. You will have to survive against loss of equipment, predators, and depleting supplies. The game uses a deck of playing cards as sort of a prompt generator, providing you with either obstacles or resources as you make your way to the City of Seven Nations.

The reviews of this game compare it to a Choose Your Own Adventure kind of game, so if that sounds interesting, you might want to check this game out.

Nature/Town/Farm/Villagers, by Cardboard Hyperfix.

You are a farmer who just moved into town. You had family that lived here a while ago, but not anymore. The town has seen better days, and you are here to help.

This is meant to be both a farming simulator and a community simulator. Inspired by Harvest Moon, you are a farmer who just moved to town, and are responsible for both making your farm flourish and helping your neighbours solve their problems.

The game follows a calendar of four months, one month for each season. The majority of your play revolves around picking focuses and figuring out both what the problems of each focus is, and then work to wards solving them. Each day you roll 2d6 and use their results to help you solve problems.

If you want a game that you can choose to play over an extended period of time, or if you really enjoy Harvest Moon, you might want to check out this game.

Apawthecaria: A Poultice Pounder Adventure, by BlackwellWriter.

Apawthecaria is a blend of Apothecaria and Scurry! Go on a potion-making, road-tripping, friend-making adventure.

Apothecaria is a solo potion-making game about taking care of unfortunate villagers. Scurry is a game about tiny creatures adventuring through Scotland’s underbrush. Apawthecaria combines the two that brings your little poultice-maker through the same world as Scurry, helping little creatures with their injuries and ailments.

This game is absolutely adorable, and I like the fact that you can recruit a Familiar and a number of Companion bugs on your journeys. I’m assuming that along with meeting a number of patients on your travels, you’ll be using many of the potion-making and foraging rules of Apothecaria. There’s a lot of management involved - you’ll be tracking your reputation, upgrading equipment, and bartering for ingredients (aka reagents) as you travel.

If you like a game with enchanting art and plenty setting already established for you to explore, this might be a game for you.

Scavengers, by Gasini.

Scavengers is a solo hexcrawling adventure game set in a post-apocalyptic fantasy world. You play as a crew of foolhardy goblins struggling to pilot an ancient vehicle known as The Gas Horse. Your crew's goal is to scour the wastes for salvage to expand the goblin homestead. 

Your goblins have an eclectic set of skills that will change how each run goes. Be wary, for there is a hunter out in the wastes seeking to end your adventure!

I think this game might meet your requirements because you are playing a crew of goblins, rather than a single character, and because you have something to manage - namely, the Gas Horse. You’re also responsible for a Homestead, where there might even be more goblins waiting for you. The game comes with a Hexflower map for you to explore, and it all looks to fit on a single brochure, so I think this is better for a limited play session rather than extended play.

Nomads of the Isles, by Nik Mirza.

The fate of your clan rests on your shoulders. Will you be able to lead them to prosperity or will your journey end in defeat?

Your clan are on a quest to establish settlements in a new and unknown land. You must lead your people through various terrains such as mountains, deserts, and forests while managing facing unforeseen danger. Your goal is to establish a settlement or more by the end of your reign.

This is a brochure game guided by Firelights, a solo RPG that is great for metroidvania types of games. Roll on a d66 table to determine what kinds of regions you’ll travel through, and draw cards from the Story Deck to determine the difficulty of each action.

While the game is meant to track a journey from one land to another, the actual details of the story are up to you. The cards from the deck provide you with a value that you’ll have to beat, but the detail of each problem is pretty vague: you’ll recieve prompts such as “Reunion”, “Ceremony”, or “Betrayal”. You’ll have to decide what those words mean, and how much detail you want to include. If you want a game that makes it fairly easy to track progress towards a definable goal, this is your game.

DELVE, by BlackwellWriter.

DELVE: A Solo Map Drawing Game is a map drawing game that puts you in control of a dwarven hold as you discover the horrors that lurk below. This 44 page zine has everything you need to generate natural formations, forgotten ruins, enemies, wyrd magics, and ancient monstrosities. It has a simple turn-based combat system, rules for building your hold and optional challenges for a harder experience.

If you like Dwarf Fortress, this is the game for you! Recruit military units, devise traps and track combat. Use cards from a deck to track resources and explore the map, and a d4 or a coin to help you resolve certain problems. This is as much a resource management game as it is a dungeon delving game, with plenty of tables for Magic, Adventurers, Inventions and more. If you like filling out a map and tracking a lot of things at once, this might be the game for you.

[sirianasims]

The Don Diaries

Back in the Lothario household, a miracle has happened. Gina. Has. Picked. Up. The. Baby. Granted, Don is at work so for once there was no one else to do it, but still.

Matteo probably wonders who this strange woman is.

Gina. Gina, your son is really smelly. Don't just stare at him, do something about that diaper. Please.

Gina does nothing, so I intervene and make her change him. She finally does it, only to then immediately deposit Matteo on the floor like he was some sort of Sims 2 baby.

She had some very important stretching to do, you see. Infants are kinda heavy WHEN YOU'VE NEVER HELD ONE BEFORE.

Immediately after Don arrives home, one of Gina's lawyer colleagues invites her to a lounge to celebrate her recent promotion. Gina doesn't really know (or like!) her colleagues so I figure they need the bonding time, and it means less time to start fights with Don.

Gina is having a hard time staying interested in her colleague though, and decides to get to know whoever this dude is.

Her poor colleague (who is on her second drink already - to cope with Gina's company, I'm sure) is struggling to keep her engaged and Gina wanders off.

The lounge entertainer, some pianist named Mitchel, is apparently taking a well-earned chess break from entertaining.

... that's quite a lot of heart-farting there, Mitchel.

Especially considering that you're extremely married and have a teen daughter.

Gina's attention span has suddenly improved vastly, something I'm sure has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Mitchel's household funds are - let me check - WAIT, OVER NINE MILLION?!?

I send her home before she can cause any damage, but I have a feeling that it may not be the last we've seen of Mitchel the Pianist. God, the jokes about this guy are gonna write themselves.

Back home, Don is teaching Matteo to stand and both he and I continue to have zero chill about this baby.

Look at him. Perfection. Even the drooling is cute. 10/10.

Gina gets home from her adventures at the lounge, and Don makes another desperate attempt to rekindle some sort of intimacy after putting Matteo to bed.

Don has a very high libido, but he and Gina haven't really been intimate at all since Matteo was born and Don is getting increasingly frustrated.

But as usual, Gina turns him down. I guess she still has Mitchel the Nine Million Pianist on her mind.

The next day starts out well enough, Matteo has found his feet and spends some time getting to know them.

He is then introduced to banana with the help of the not-useless nanny.

It's another success!

But wait, what's this? Gina has apparently had a big day at work too. Not quite as big as discovering banana, but it's something!

Gina makes the decision to speak out, I guess it's the fame and money, but... there goes her promotion again. As if Gina needed another thing to be angry about.

Furious and disappointed, Gina approaches their neighbour and more or less tries to bully her into becoming a client.

Gina, I don't think the suit is the problem.

The tension in this household is at a breaking point, but we still have one more thing to get through.

Enjoy this synchronised father/son facepalm, because tomorrow, things get slightly out of hand - it's time for Sidney and Nathan's wedding!

[yandere-plague]

Any version your comfortable with thank you

All of them at once- jk

// mentions of drugging/spiking , kidnapping

takes place sometime during borderlands 3

without spoiling much, I leave it up to you as what your 'previous' job was.

"Huh, never thought this ship would have a bar." In hindsight that would be obvious. But for one in space? Definitely not.

Everyone calls it Moxxi's nightclub, though its more of a bar than anything else. Can you really call it a nightclub if your always in space?

Sanctuary III, the home of the Crimson Raiders. Where legendary people are formed to hunt vaults. Though you know that already.

The room gave off a radiant pink, a splash of colour from the rest of the ship. And in the middle stood who you assumed to be the woman herself, Mad Moxxi.

"Well hey Sugar. Dont think I've seen you around here." Her voice sounds like honey, a mix of courteousness and flirtiness enough to give some drunk people the wrong idea.

"Just came from Promethea actually."

"Promethea? Hope the corpo war hasn't been to hard on ya."

"Eh I'm doing alright. They raised the rent at my apartment because Atlas needed to get everyone out of the city. I don't blame him but. To be honest most of us have nowhere to go."

This became a regular occurance, after your job on Promethea you head to Moxxi's for a quick drink or a bite to eat before heading to your dorm.

[A few months later]

"Hey Moxxi, guess who finally managed to get enough funds to live back on Promethea!"

You ran into the bar, giddy with excitement.

"Aww, really? I'm going to miss you sugar."

Her makeup never changed since you first met. Still wearing the ruined mascara, intentional or not.

"Dont worry Mox. I'll visit you!" You chucked.

How about one last drink? On the house~"

She smiled, she always wanted to give you free drinks. But every time you denied her.

'Well. I- why not?" You shrug.

Looking around you notice that nobody else is around.

"You closing up early? Wait, what time is it?"

"Well after closing time, but I decided to let you in." She said while trying to get rid of a damn stain on her dress.

"Shit. Sorry-"

"Dont be, now bottoms up sugar~"

She poured the drink up to your lips. It felt kind of awkward but you went along with it for now.

It tasted familiar, like her finest blend but a little bit saltier? Maybe you're just imagining things.

"Thanks." She put it down after.

"Need some help back there? Like tidying up or something?"

"You're too kind~, mind checking the tables for any leftover drinks or anything. I say people just leave their drinks like its nothing." She sighed.

"Sure thing."

You stand up, almost wobbling a bit. Did she give you an extra strong version or something?

You look at every table, they all seem to be clear. Apart from one of the booths at the back, a few glasses lay there.

You pick them up and head back to her. Placing them on the table.

"Thanks doll."

"Oof. Yeah. I think im going to go now. I'm beat." You sit back down on one of the stools, placing a hand on your forehead.

"Jeez, how strong is this stuff?"

"Its a special blend."

"It sure is..."

"Oh sugar~, can't keep you're head on straight can you?"

The world around you slipped, as you fell on the floor.

"Dont worry. Momma Moxxi will take very good care of you. Just sleep. Kitten..."

You revealed Moxxi's true voice, a sickening sap that once she gets you into her clutches, she's never letting you go...

(I actually have the moxxi finest blend bottle. But I've never drank alcohol before and I don't think that whiskey is a good thing to try first 😅)

I AM SO SORRY FOR MAKING THIS TAKE SO LONG. I was busy with college and then tumblr decided to not let me edit for some reason. I'm personally not impressed with what I've written :/ I

[lollystocks]

Therapy for the Dead and Buried, Chapter 4

Chapter three here

Masterpost here

AO3

“Patient 17-A-2, session four. Have officially designated the patient as an ‘A’ type, specifically emotion-alteration, as well as some unspecified action-at-a-distance ability. While both may fall under ‘A’ categorization, I’ve yet to see two such different abilities manifest in the same patient. Though a surprisingly wide range of atypical abilities can manifest in the blowing of my light bulb…”

“Today I want to work on exploring the capabilities of the emotion-alteration. I believe that full control is the path to dampening, and that focussing only on suppression would be… ineffective.”

“Patient has said some things in previous sessions that I find intriguing. References to events that are untrue, a strange usage of the word ‘here’ when talking about the world, and an off-hand reference to ‘they are out to get me’. While most patients are naturally suspicious of my intentions, James is unusually guarded.”

“Note to self: investigate the known limits of ‘D’ type abilities. As… sore, a subject that may be for me.”

--

“... and let the leaf float down the stream. When you are ready, exhale, then open your eyes.”

Danny did as she said, wincing a little as the bright sunshine of the office met his eyes. He cleared his throat and rubbed his hands on his knees.

“How do you feel?”

“Um. A bit more relaxed, physically? I guess some nice deep breathing for ten minutes is like, actually good for you.”

“Just physically?”

“Yeah, um. I’m not sure I’m very good at the exercise. Acknowledging the thoughts and just… letting them go down the stream. Like, if a thought comes to me, it sticks around, you know? I can picture a leaf or something drifting away from me but like, the actual thought is still in my brain. So rather than letting it drift away it sits there, and then to do the exercise right - having a new thought arrive on the stream - I try to think of what else could go on a leaf, and now I have a new thought, and they’re all piling up in my brain like a rotten leaf pile in the fall. You know?”

Doctor Bright nodded. The corners of her eyes softened a touch and the side of her mouth twitched. “I wouldn’t be too worried about how ‘good’ or ‘bad’ you are at meditation, James. This was your first attempt, and it might take some time and work for it to click with you.”

“I guess. Just feels like another responsibility, you know? Chores and grades and my job and paperwork, now I’ve got to add another thing to the list?”

“I suppose you could think of it that way, James. Our mental wellbeing is something that takes work, and sometimes doing so can infringe on other things in our life.”

“Yeah!”

Against his better judgement, Danny liked Doctor Bright. A bit. That she often simply agreed with what he said was… well. He wasn’t exactly used to it. He craved both her approval and disapproval in equal measure, so couldn’t help himself from pushback when the opportunity arose.

“And like, I know you’re gonna say it needs to be a high priority, but everything’s high priority. I need good grades if I’m gonna have a future, I need to keep the apartment clean if I don’t wanna get evicted, I need to keep myself clean and fed so I don’t get sick, I need my job to get money to do any of the above. It’s just, like. It’s a lot. Twenty minutes a day is a lot.”

“Many teenagers find their lives to be uniquely pressured. All the responsibilities of adulthood are coming in, with all the restrictions of childhood. Many feel a sense ‘now or never’, and that their future success is totally determined by their achievement as an adolescent.”

“But it’s hard not to think that, when that’s what every adult is telling you. Like, I can know logically that it’s all bullcrap and that teachers and school admins tell you that so you get good SATs and go to a good college ‘cause then they get better funding and reputation and stuff, I know all that. And that like, plenty of people turn their lives around when they’re an adult. But in a way it is kinda true for me ‘cause I have nothing else going for me right now, Doctor Bright.”

He sat up straight and, clutching his imaginary pearls, recited, “I’m seventeen, I’ve no money and no prospects. I’m a burden on… the state? And I’m frightened.” Accent and everything.

Doctor Bright’s eyebrows raised at that. “Pride and Prejudice?”

“Yeah. My si-. Um. I used to know someone who was obsessed with it. I could probably quote you the entire film.”

“Film? I thought it was a miniseries?”

“Oh. Yeah. Anyway, yeah, I don’t have a backup plan. If I flunk out now, I have no real future. I need to do well now to go to college so I can make money and have an actual life.”

“Unfortunately, your stress is understandable. Many of your personal circumstances - poverty, emancipation - these are significant obstacles. Whereas others your age can afford to spend some time finding their feet in their adolescence, you’ve had extra responsibilities placed on you, many that your peers could never understand.”

“Wait, so you agree? That I'm screwed?”

“Not at all, James. From what I’ve seen, you are more than capable of making your way in the world. You’re smart, driven, and passionate, and I believe wholeheartedly that you can succeed. You have a future, James. You’re right in that it will be more difficult for you than for others, but you need to allow yourself some grace. The occasional mistake, or even failure, will not doom you.”

Danny didn’t answer, and took a deep interest in the decor instead. There was a strip of sealant around the doorframe that was coming off, just slightly. He wanted to rip it off all the way.

It was moments like this that really drove home that therapy with the doctor could only get him so far. The occasional mistake will not doom you.

Only last week, he’d nearly had a panic attack when he’d seen another kid surreptitiously check their phone during a surprise test. Danny hadn’t even been the one cheating, but simply being witness to it had brought on visions of bombed-out cities.

Doctor Bright already knew more about him than he was comfortable with. His lingering terror-guilt-disgust over that one potential future would not be something solved in this office.

The doctor’s voice snapped him back.

“If I may, James, I’d like to come back to what you said earlier about the leaves stacking up in your mind during the visualization. Do you often feel like that?”

Danny scoffed. “Oh, a hundred percent. It’s constantly like - you know that thing, where if someone says, ‘don’t think about penguins’, all you can do is think about penguins?”

“I’m familiar with the concept.”

“I feel like that all the time. Like there are thoughts I know I should be having, like my internal to-do list, or concentrating on the lesson, or looking at someone in their face when they’re talking to you. And then there are the thoughts I really don’t want to be having, but I’m always aware of what I’m trying not to think about, so. I think about them. And then it all stacks together and it’s like everyone talking at once, the good and the bad and the necessary, and then it’s all ‘Hey, kid, you listening?’ and someone in the real world is snapping their fingers in my face.”

“That must be stressful.”

“It is. And even though the meditation was kinda the same, it was… less, I guess? Like rather than try and push the bad thoughts down, just having them sit there visually, I don’t know. They stayed more like surface thoughts than anything deeper. Like the leaves were still there, but I was holding them in my hands rather than having them sucked in through my ears into my brain. You know?”

“That’s excellent, James. I think if you can try to find any calm moments in the day to practice this visualization, you’ll get better and better at identifying and diffusing these discrete thoughts. Not to mention the physical benefits you mentioned.”

“Okay. I’ll try.”

Danny didn’t want to get into a discussion about how there were no ‘calm moments’ in his days. But this did bring him onto something he’d been wondering about.

“Um, Doctor Bright. I gotta ask - why are you teaching me meditation? I thought we were gonna work on my ‘scary thing’, now that I know you know that I’m a, um. An Atypical.”

“Ah, I should have explained better. While anyone can benefit from meditation, there is a wealth of evidence that it is particularly useful for Atypicals who are learning how to control their abilities - especially those that are linked to their emotional state. Which, to be honest, is most of them.”

Danny felt his eyebrows furrow. “‘Linked to their emotional state,’ how?”

Barely perceptible, Doctor Bright’s eyes lit up slightly. “Here’s one example. A fytokinetic is someone with the ability to control plant matter with their mind - it’s a very broad ability type, with many manifestations. Someone with limited control over their ability - say, a young person who’s new to their powers - would likely find the plant matter around them acting in direct response to their mental state. Intense sadness could cause wilting, or feelings of self-disgust and loneliness to plant matter rotting and decaying. Bursts of joy could cause flowers to bloom.”

“So, classic X-Men stuff, right? Powers as a metaphor, ‘show don’t tell?’”

“In a way, although I encourage my patients not to equate their lives with fictional worlds and people. You, your life, and your powers are real, James. Your ability isn’t a metaphor, it’s just a fact of life.”

“A shitty one.”

“Maybe so. But it doesn’t have to be.”

“How could it not be? Say I get full control, what then? It’s hardly useful, the ability to scare people sh- witless. It’s not something I need any more, but it’s still here, making me miserable. It’s stopping me from making friends, or keeping a job. The best thing I can do with it is stop it.”

“I wish I had more answers for you, James, but I don’t. Your ability is a part of you, whether or not you like it. And you have to learn to live with it.”

“Hah. Live with it.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Nothing. Never mind. So coming back to the mental state thing - if I can better control my emotions, I can better control my abilities?”

The Doctor looked like she went to write something, then thought better of it. “That's the case for most Atypicals, yes. Especially so for those whose abilities are of the psychic type, interacting with others’ minds, as yours is. I've already seen good evidence that your own mental state influences your ability.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes. I'm pretty attuned to identifying when my mind is being influenced by an Atypical ability, as you might imagine, but even without that, I think I would have noticed a difference. My sense of fear and unease spikes when you appear to be agitated or distrusting; it eases when you're relaxed. You may not feel that our visualization exercise was working well, but I experienced a significant drop in my fear.”

“Oh.”

In all honesty, Danny had forgotten that his Fear was continuing to influence the doctor. She certainly didn’t act afraid of him - or any of the other manifestations he experienced. Scorn. Anger. Disgust.

Danny didn’t want Doctor Bright to be scared of him. That she so readily admitted that she still was, in such a dispassionate, clinical matter-of-fact way, was kind of a bummer.

“Does that surprise you?”

“I mean, it shouldn’t. I've always… um. Just like, everything else I do in life is harder when I'm anxious, so I guess the same goes for this. So are you saying the key to managing this is to just what, be happy?”

“That's an overly simplistic way of looking at it. No one can, or should, be happy all the time. But I believe that addressing the root cause of your own fear and anxiety may be the best course of action.”

“Wait, so this is still just like, normal therapy? Talking about my feelings and not like. Doing tests? Taking samples?”

“Yes, James. My therapist practice isn't some front for Atypical coaching, it's still therapy. It's simply that effective therapy for Atypicals is necessarily holistic - better mental health leads to better control over abilities, which improves living conditions, which in turn improves mental health.”

“But there’s got to be more to it? Like, you talk like there’s a whole science to studying Atypicals. Do you not have some kind of like. Um. Lab?”

Danny was not a fan of his voice crack at the end there.

“I don’t personally believe that is necessary, James. There is already a wealth of evidence on psychic-type abilities to reference. This is talking therapy.”

“Okay. So we just, what, talk about my anxiety at school? And boom, I’m cured?”

“‘Curing’ is not a model I subscribe to, James. You are not sick. What I’m here to help you with is control. But there are other things we can do, besides addressing your mental health.” She adjusted her glasses. “I find that discussing my patients’ experience of their abilities often yields fruit in opening up new ways to control them. Would you be up for that kind of discussion?”

Dangerous territory. You’re not a fucking ‘Atypical’, Danny, you’re dead.

What if the way he described his abilities was totally unheard of for the Doctor? What would she even make of that? He didn’t know the first thing about the people he was trying to mimic.

Play it cool, play it cool. You’re a scared little mutant with one inconvenient power, in a world full of scared little mutants with inconvenient powers.

“Um. Sure? But uh, I don’t know what’s normal. Like, how do other people describe their abilities? Actually, I know nothing at all about like… typical Atypicals. If that makes sense?”

“I'd encourage you not to dwell too much on being a ‘normal’ Atypical. It is, after all, a bit of a contradiction.”

Unhelpful, Doc.

“But I want to know about Atypicals in general! So I can know what's me-weird and what's Atypical-weird. Like, when do people get their powers? How many are there? How long have they been around? How does no one know about them?”

“Let's see… ability onset is incredibly varied, with some manifesting in utero, and some not developing until well into adulthood, though those are edge-cases. It is somewhat typical for abilities to onset at puberty or during teenage years. It's very hard to estimate numbers. Recent studies put it as high as four percent of the population-”

“Four percent?!”

“-but that is skewed in multiple directions: on the one hand, many people with abilities live in secret; on the other, some abilities are so mild as to not register as much more than unusual talents or intuition. I have a colleague who thinks as many as twenty percent of Olympians may be low-level Atypicals. Atypical abilities aren't strictly binary, but scalar, and cover a wide range of power and disruption. In terms of the number of people with abilities either powerful enough to be noticeable, or to cause problems in someone's life? Maybe one in one in five hundred people?

“And as far as we're aware, there have always been Atypicals. More than one time traveler has witnessed them at the dawn of human history.”

“... time travelers?”

She smiled. “Yes, James.”

“Doesn't that cause huge issues with like, the timeline? Paradoxes, evil futures?”

“Most abilities aren't powerful enough to disrupt the universe, and have some inbuilt fail-safes. Most time travelers, for instance, can only witness the past, not influence it. And the future is nearly always mutable.”

“That's… wild, actually.”

“It's certainly fascinating. But to bring us back again: how would you feel about discussing your ability with me in more depth?”

“I mean, what is there to discuss? I don't even do anything.”

Doctor Bright set her notebook on the table. “I want you to close your eyes for a second.”

Danny did so.

“Where's a place you frequently find yourself anxious?”

“School. Especially in crowds.”

“Okay. I want you to picture yourself in school. The bell has gone, and it's the crush between lessons. Your ability is influencing those around you, making them fear and distrust you.”

“Okay.”

“Could you describe what emotions you feel? Besides anxiety?”

“Um. Is ‘fuck off’ an emotion?”

He heard Doctor Bright let out a slight huff, as if amused. “I daresay it is. Describe it to me.”

“Like I want everyone out of my personal space, and the more they get in my face, the worse it gets, until I want to fucking bite anything that comes near my face.”

“How does this feeling move around you? Does it come from an outside source, or from within you, projected outwards?”

“Oh, the second one, for sure. Like I want a gust of wind to push everyone around me away from me.”

“If this feeling were visible, what would it look like? A gas, a liquid? Is it slow, fast-?”

“It's green. Toxic green.”

“Okay. I now want you to picture yourself alone, somewhere you feel calm. It can be a real place, or imaginary. Think about what it looks like. Imagine the sounds, if there are any. Think about your body in the space - are you sitting, standing, lying down? Think about the temperature, the smells…”

Easy. The roof of the observatory, on a clear night - he imagined it clearer than possible, really, in Amity. The Milky Way stretched thick and dense overhead, the constellations large and proud. The air was cool and fresh, a slight breeze blowing through his hair. He wasn’t sure what color it should be.

As Doctor Bright talked, it became more real, more solid. Her voice started to fade into the background, and his awareness of the office started to dull. He tried to lean into that fact, and not let it scare him.

The concrete sloped under where he was sitting, to the gutter below him. Small weeds and flowers grew from it, and moths flittered about, attracted to his soft glow.

Doctor Bright invited him to imagine a loved one, someone he felt safe with. He couldn’t pick one, so now Sam, Tucker and Jazz all sat with him, pressing on either side.

He couldn’t remember how they should smell. But he could remember that Sam’s perfume always reminded him of smoke.

A lone car rumbled by. An owl called.

His chest was a gaping wound, draining slick, green sludge down his front. It moved of its own accord, fingers rising and falling, surging outwards. He didn’t move, simply watching as it crawled down his stomach and up across his shoulders, grabbing and dragging itself across the others. They recoiled, sounds of dismay from their mouths and they scrabbled to escape, and the Danny of this vision didn’t move, didn’t even watch.

The ectoplasm became more violent, faster, pushing its fingers into their eyes, their mouths, stifling their screams. Tucker clawed backwards in fear, getting ever-closer to the edge, losing his balance, falling-

The vision froze. Danny held onto his friend, arresting his fall, fixing him in place. He started ripping the ectoplasm away from him, digging his real fingers into his mouth and pulling, and pulling, on and on.

He had to change the ectoplasm. Change how it looked.

It was red. No. Pink. Something between the two. And it was oily, and slick, and watery and moved according to his whim, not on its own accord. It was what held Tucker in place.

It was warm, and sweet-smelling, and giddy, and fascinating.

He turned to look at Sam and Jazz. Both were smiling, the glowing red-pink oil dripping from their bared teeth, their eyes pinned open-

Danny wrenched himself back to the office with open eyes and a gasp. “Doc, I’m not sure what-”

The Doctor was staring at him.

Her eyes were wide open, round as balls, and her pupils were totally blown. She leaned forward, way too far, but her body seemed relaxed. She breathed deep and even.

Danny stood up and stepped away from the couch. “Um. Doc? Doctor Bright? What are you doing…?”

Her posture didn’t change, but her eyes followed him, and she continued to take deep breaths. Her lips parted slightly.

“Doc, fucking, snap out of it. Doctor Bright? What are you…”

She started him down, totally entranced. The corners of her lips started to turn upwards.

Then she whispered, almost undetectable.

“Danny…”

Next thing he knew, Danny had thrown his untouched glass of water right in her face.

She spluttered and recoiled, taking in her bearings. Her eyes returned to normal.

“What. Where…?” Her eyes landed on him. “James…?”

Danny gripped his hair. “Doc, what the fuck was that? You were, I mean, it was totally freaking me out, I didn’t know what to do, oh my god you're soaked I’m so sorry, what was that?”

“James, calm down, I need you to calm-”

“What did you do? What did I do?! I’ve never done that before! Was that me? You called me- shit do you remember? Do you remember any of that? Shit.”

“James, please calm down-”

But Danny didn’t hear the rest. He ignored the receptionist, Sarah’s stunned cry (and she was also gasping, clutching her heart) as he slammed through the office door, and was halfway home before he remembered to breathe.

---

The Inbox of ‘James Jackson’

To: James Jackson

Subject: Checking In

Hello James,

Just wanted to check that you were okay and safe after our session - I could not get through to your phone.

I want to reassure you than Sarah and I are perfectly fine, and I cannot discern any noticeable ongoing side effects from the hypnosis.

While I have no memory of the experience, I know it must have been distressing for you.

I want to apologize for putting you in that position. I did not anticipate that the exploration exercise would yield such an extreme result.

Please let me know you’re okay.

Best wishes,

Dr. Joan Bright, PsyD, ABPP

Licensed Therapist

---

The Inbox of Joan Bright

To: Joan Bright

Subject: RE: Checking In

Hi Dr Bright. I’m safe. I’m really sorry about earlier. I don’t know what happened.

Sent from my iPhone

---

The Inbox of ‘James Jackson’

To: James Jackson

Subject: RE: RE: Checking In

Hello James,

I am glad to hear it. I want to reassure you we are still on for next week. If you want an emergency session in the interim, I would be happy to oblige.

Best wishes,

Dr. Joan Bright, PsyD, ABPP

Licensed Therapist

---

To: James Jackson

Subject: Are you okay?

Hello James,

I am concerned that I have not heard from you since last week. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.

Best wishes,

Dr. Joan Bright, PsyD, ABPP

Licensed Therapist

---

To: James Jackson

Subject: RE: Are you okay?

Hello James,

I am following up on your missed appointment today. I am obliged to inform the school, but I do not want to do so yet, given your situation. Please let me know you’re alright.

Best wishes,

Dr. Joan Bright, PsyD, ABPP

Licensed Therapist

---

The Inbox of Caleb Michaels

To: Caleb Michaels

Subject: RE: Referred Patient

Hello Caleb,

I did not get a chance to discuss this with your classmate in our last session. However, I am worried, as he has not been responding to my emails, though I know he has continued to attend school.

I was going to suggest that you two begin some e-correspondence, so you could both talk without being affected by your respective abilities. I cannot share his details without his permission, so you might have to make contact in person.

Please bear in mind, he’s flighty. But I know he could do with a friend or two.

Best wishes,

Dr. Joan Bright, PsyD, ABPP

Licensed Therapist

[hetalia-club]

Stardew Mod Alfred Jones (America)

Summary of Town & Buildings you should read this first if you haven't so you're not confused.

Jones Household: Alfred

Alfred (America), His brother is Matthew (Canada) and they are also roommates living on a ranch/ tree nursery together at the furthest end of Cindersnap forest. They own a small farm where America raises cows & Canada has a small tree nursery where he taps trees for maple. They live the furthest away from town so they have space to farm. They come from a family of Ranchers and got a very large trust fund from their parents. Being raised rich he does not really have a concept for money and will often say tone deaf things until you form a relationship with him. (Commenting on your clothes similar to how Haley does) Bakery contribution- Supplies Milk for the baked goods and coffee Drinks. He also makes all the Apple Pie. Alfred Visits the Bakery on Monday morning around 10am to make his milk deliveries. He will stay there for about an hour and then head home opening his store around 12pm that day. Alfred break down: Alfred Loves grindball, cows and eating. He used to be in the military and fought with Kent in the war against the Gotoro Empire. After an injury he was given an honorary discharge and deals with the guilt of feeling like he got out easy. His Milk puns can make for a fun double entendre that he is unaware of. He can come off as self-centered and chauvinistic at times but he means well. This boy loves cows and will talk about them any chance you give him. He’s a cowboy if you will. But just because was a trust fund kid does not mean he’s afraid of getting his hands dirty or hard work. Don’t let his condescending demeanor rub you the wrong way once you break that outer shell this farm boy will love you until the cows come home. The Ranch-His house doubles as a ranch so he sells Barn Animals like Marnie does and Hay + tools like sheers, milk pale and anything else you might need for your animals. He does not have as big of a selection of Marnie but his prices are slightly cheaper if you are willing to make the trek there for your stuff. Animals bought from Alfred are already full grown and there is not waiting period to have them grow from babies as Alfred raises the animals up himself so they will start producing products right away. Keep Reading Down Below >>>>

Birthday- Summer 4 Loves- Pumpkin Pie, Banana Pudding, Survival Burger, All varieties of Milk, Gold Bar and Apple Pie Likes- All universal likes except for flowers and crops that cannot be eaten. All cooked food and all crops that can be eaten with a couple exceptions Neutrals- all universal neutrals, all raw fish (Because they have the ability to be cooked and eaten) Dislikes- all universal dislikes, flowers of any kind (They are not food) Hates- Salad & Moss soup & Universal hates Gift receiving lines- Loved Lines- Wow my favorite! It’s like you can read my mind or something… Liked Lines- Sweet, Thanks! Neutral Lines- Thanks for the gift I guess Dislikes- Um, Okay Hate Lines- Why did you give me your trash? I guess I’ll throw it away for you Birthday Gift Lines- Happy Birthday to me! Thanks for remembering. Unique festival dialog: Egg Festival- I asked Mayor Lewis if we could do a milk festival instead this year. He said he didn’t think the idea would “catch on”. Desert Festival- Every year I misread the flyer and think I’m attending the “dessert festival”. This is still alright though I guess. Flower Dance- *Alfred is busy eating and doesn’t seem like he wants to talk* Ask to dance? If yes- Dance!? With you!? I thought you’d never ask! I mean…dancing is cool sure. If no- Sorry, I have literally anything else to do. Firework Festival (New Event)- It’s my birthday today you know. It almost feels like these fireworks are a celebration for me. If only I had some Banana Pudding today would be perfect. Luau- Can you guess what I added to the pot this year? If you guessed milk you were right. Trout Derby- Does not attend Dance Of The Moonlight Jellies- I don’t get what’s so exciting about a bunch of glowing fish. Now a cow with glowing milk, now that would be cool! Don’t steal that idea… Stardew Valley Fair- (Has a stand with Matthew where they are showing off Cheese, Milk, Maple syrup, and some tree fruits.) Came to stake out the completion, Eh (Player)? Mattie and I are taking home the gold this year I know it. Brew Fest (New Event)- I’m on my 18th shot of espresso. What do you mean slow down? Who are you my Mom/dad/parent? (Depending on which gender you picked) Spirits Eve- I wonder If I could make a Golden Pumpkin Pie from the Golden Pumpkin. Don’t steal that idea… Festival Of Ice- My brother dragged me here. It’s too damn cold out here *Shivers*. Hopefully the cows are warm enough in the barn. Squidfest- Does Not Attend Night Market- I wonder if you could milk a mermaid. Why are you looking at me like that? Was it something I said? Feast Of The Winter Star- *Alfred Is eating an entire Pumpkin Pie from the tin with a fork*. *He looks like he’s trying to hide it from you* Friendship Letters after befriending Alfred: 2 Hearts letter: he will send you a letter in the mail and a bottle of Maple syrup as a gift The letter will say: Found this while going through my brothers stuff. I thought it would annoy him if I gave it to you. 4 Hearts letter: Sorry I was so annoyed with you before you’re actually pretty cool you know. I Got you something little to make up for it don’t spend it all in one place. The letter will contain a Gold Bar. 6 heart letter- Now that we’re such good pals I thought I would share with you my mom’s top secret Apple Pie Recipe. This information is classified. Letter contains the recipe for Apple Pie. 2 Apple 1 Wheat flour 1 Maple Syrup Health+ 80 Energy+ 175 8 Heart letter- When you first moved in I never thought I would even talk to you. But I want you to know you’ve become my best friend. I look forward to seeing you every day. Let’s hang out later okay? Letter contains a Diamond Romance Dialog Receiving a Bouquet- For me? Hell Yeah! That’s so crazy and here I was about to just go buy a bouquet for you. Mermaid Pendent- No way, no way, no way! You seriously want to marry me? I was too afraid to ask you! I’ll get everything set up don’t even worry about lifting a finger baby.

Married Life With Alfred Jones: When married to America his corner of the farm will be a singular cow which is named Big Tex. When married to Alfred there is a chance if you speak to him in the morning he will give you milk and will tell you it came from Big Tex fresh this morning. Three days after marrying Alfred you will get a letter in the mail from ‘In-laws’ with 10k gold congratulating you and apologizing for not being at the wedding. After Marrying Alfred he will still go tend his stores and will hardly ever be actually at your house. Due to the long walk he will warp to and from there and cannot be followed since the slow pace NPCs walk would take him literally all day to get there. Alfred will call you babe from now on regardless of gender. If you go visit him at work he will have special dialog expressing he’s happy you came to see him but you don’t get a discount just because you’re married. Occasionally he will mention the current war saying he ‘hopes everyone is doing alright without him’. On Sundays he and Matthew will meet each other in Cinderssnap Forest by the river unless it’s raining and then they will both stay home.

[knarme-art]

Esko Ilves, my only truly developed recom OC... Still drooling for him. u_ u His human past was that of a medic of an anarcho-socialist commune defensive battalion.

He's Finnish and clinically insane. His bloodline has been staunch Reds ever since the Civil war before 1930'ies, keeping up their tradition even into the late post-modern capitalist hellscape of 2100's.

Everything about setting up their own socialist republic got fucked because uhhhh think about corporations and weapons salesmen funding different groups fighting for different interests in a severely destabilized region, and well...

Somehow a fucked-up series of events landed Esko into an American prison where his skills and experience as combat medic were regognized.

RDA needed meat and prisons are a good place to get some meat, as meat has no choice.

Esko was draftet to Pandora, and while all of this was very much against his poltitics, he just humbled to doing his job. He dedicated his life to making the lives of his new comrades a bit more humane, a bit more.. Well... Put-together... With stitches and all. He accepted his part in this corporate superorganism, that this is where he must work and function now for his own survival, accepting his lack of choice and embracing where fates brought him.

Then he died. He did quite well and was a valuable asset, both highly educated and experienced in field medic work as well as many other useful areas of knowledge, - so he got to be brought back as a recombinant.

He's a really strange fucker.

Always has a slightly manic glimmer in his eyes. Has a weird and inappropriate sense of humour. Loud, will shatter your soul by smacking your shoulder fatherly, looks out for you. Very "for the people" spirited kinda guy. Will tell you if you don't have long to live and exactly what is wrong with your organs.

His mind is like a kind of a fucked up cubistic painting come to life where all the timelines and possibilities and perspectives are all true at once. Yes, this does fuck with him to some amount and sometimes he collapses into quite bad spirals over it all, while at other times he's totally on fire, that ego as massive as ever.

He can convince himself of pretty much anything if he needs to. He can come up with convincing justifications and rationalizations by an intense practice of perspective building.

(Sometimes this means his choices are grievously awful and make him many enemies.) (At other times it means he's heroic and win him plenty of loyalty and admiration.)

Good motivational speaker and has an unnatural amount of passion for anything he does.

He is self-aware of how many things at any given time are actually just... A matter of what narrative you have chosen to live in. He can't even take those seriously anymore. He just picks something and sticks to it, I guess, but he knows he must lie a bit. A lot, even.

Possibly, before anything else, Ilves is a storyteller.

If the story he lives in is interesting enough, colorful enough... It's all good, and not in vain. Truly loves the whimsy of it all even every time his world dies.

[i-need-a-slurpee]

You guys already know I love spreading my akekita besties agenda

I saw someone post a video about a little porcelain figure they found and it was a crow in a big straw hat and a sweater and behind the crow was several different easels. The person filming the video dubbed the porcelain figure 'vincent van crow' so you see where I'm going with this. (Btw this is an AU where Akechi lives and he works with the phantom thieves because they can see he needs help and they're going to give him that help whether he wants it or not. Canon be damned.)

Akechi and Yusuke walking around different shops because yusuke needs new art supplies and guess who they find sitting on a shelf tucked away behind some miscellaneous items like mason jars and small vases of different dull colors. Vincent Van Crow. Akechi saw him first and thought Yusuke would appreciate the little porcelain figure, unaware of the artist's terrible spending habits. Yusuke would feel the same connection to Vincent Van Crow that he did with his lobsters and abandon the original mission just to buy him, insisting it was destiny. A crow that was a fellow artist, the only one on the shell and who better to point it out to him but Akechi himself.

Despite Akechi's protests that Yusuke's funds are limited and he should focus on finding the supplies for whatever new piece he was working on (it was a watercolor painting, several paintings, of the various different places in the backstreets where lebanc resided) Yusuke insists on buying him. Akechi doesn't quite understand how Yusuke can have such a sentimental attachment to an object he doesn't own yet but he can't afford to argue any longer because he'll lose his cool.

It isn't until they've finished their shopping and are walking back to the train station that he starts to really get it. Not because he had given the porcelain crow any thought but because Yusuke declared that this small, breakable and frankly unimpressive (to akechi at least) figure was a sign of their bond. A representation of different facets of their personalities and how despite the fact that nobody really understood it, Yusuke and Akechi made sense together.

On paper it was strange, an aloof artist and the famous detective prince but looking past the surface gave a glimpse into why they worked so well together. Yusuke was honest, brutally honest he never censored himself because he didn't see the point in doing so, he looked for a deeper meaning in everything which made sense since all art has some meaning behind it. It's second nature for him to evaluate everything he saw on a deeper level. Akechi appreciated having someone like Yusuke in his life because he never worried that Yusuke was using him like everyone else had. Yusuke's unrelenting honestly was a breath of fresh air for akechi, and no matter how hard he tried to convince himself in the beginning he could never fully believe that Yusuke's honesty was an act. He was too genuine and his perceptive abilities made him see past the act Akechi would often put on.

In turn Akechi was very critical, he had to be as a detective, and he was constantly aware of his surroundings. He always kept a look out for any danger and covered all his bases to make sure he could keep himself safe. Which was something Yusuke appreciated because he would often get lost in thought and wander off to various different places because they piqued his interest, he couldn't stay on task like Akechi could.

They helped each other and the time they spent together was time well spent, numerous discussions of various topics being viewed from two different lens. But they still managed to consider the other's position in their discussions, Yusuke would consider the analytical mindset that Akechi had and Akechi would pay more attention to the finer details and emotional aspects of a situation like Yusuke did. It was an odd but wonderful friendship they had.

So on the train ride back to their homes, Akechi considered the porcelain crow and his porcelain easels, the shine of his feathers and the way his beak twisted into a sweet smile and he felt a small warmth fill his heart. Warmth at the thought that his friend, his real friend that he had made on his own, would keep that small crow on a shelf or a table and think of him whenever he saw it. Warmth because he wasn't alone anymore, he was wanted by the people around him. Wanted enough for his friend to buy an insignificant trinket that put an extra expense on his limit supply of money just because it reminded him of the detective. Warmth because he was loved.

Your honor that's their son, they coparent him for tax benefits