#I suffered the majority of the day

[pompompurin1028]

Someone really needs to investigate how I can be exhausted for the whole day and then suddenly feel sooo energetic in the evening

[eleventhsister]

why are they so hard to draw

[vaguely-concerned]

...you know with a fandom that has lasted 30 years I'm sure I'm not saying anything new here, but 'right after his best friend from when he was thirteen (who he newly reunited with and asked to sleep over at his apartment. For Reasons) seemingly flicked his nipple (!!???? mark I have questions) to set him up for a prank and then cupped the back of his neck with rough affection in a deeply homoerotic way' sure is an incredibly specific moment for the camera to deny us access to fraser's expression fhksjafhas

(especially with the pattern over the many many times we see a woman hitting on him where his face will be clearly visible, with his expression placidly (one could be forgiven for starting to suspect tactically) uncomprehending/confused or uncomfortable. though we see him speak of specifically victoria for the first time turned away from the camera -- from behind, and only getting the faint reflection of his face in the window, to much the same effect. I think I might be on to something here.)

[vaggieslefteye]

YOU DIDN'T KNOW ↳ from Hazbin Hotel Season One (2024): 1x06 - "Welcome to Heaven"

[nabaath-areng]

the problem with my n24 is that with the clock going around gradually i have periods of being awake at day and periods of being awake at night, but then because i tend to sleep really badly during night time i spend my daytime days being very tired and sluggish, and my nighttime days are much more productive and energetic. but i cant do just anything i want at night, so i cant get as much done as i have the energy and drive to. and then i also need sunlight to feel sane in the head, and so i hate missing out on daytime wakefulness. but then the sun is also why my sleep quality is much better during daytime. if im gonna stuck with a seemingly incurable sleep disorder since birth cant i at LEAST have the sleep be overall consistent? apparently not lmao

[whisky-soul]

My respect for the US as a country has never been high, been consistently dwindling for the last 25 years, and is now effectively at zero. It has been the annoying, loudmouth, bully neighbour my entire life. Fuck I wish we could more effectively trade elsewhere and have at least one day where it’s not a thorn in our side. If the US wants to burn itself to the ground I’d appreciate it not taking us with it. We’re just here minding our business. Leave us alone!

[3416]

as a chronically depressed person, i know saying i'm going to kill myself in reaction to minor things that shouldn't affect my life as much as they do is like. not a helpful thing at all and yet. sometimes it's the only–––

[kiynania]

As I said in the info post, Wukong's possession works differently in this au

Instead of completely possessing him, LBD's only able to possess his body, not his mind.

So basically, Wukong's completely conscious and aware of what he's doing. He can't control his body at all, so when LBD makes him attack MK and Nezha, he screams at them to run.

He watches himself be used as a puppet for LBD, hurting the people he cares for and not being able to do anything about it.

(may i mention this is going on while he picks up that something's wrong with macaque :3)

Wukong sometimes does get minor control over his body, but LBD mainly keeps him chained up when she's not using him for her own gain

As for their fight...

it doesn't go well

[stargazer-dreamer]

It's on the Tip of My Tongue Chapter 2

character: yami sukehiro

content warnings: denial of feelings, jealousy

reader: gender neutral; ring magic user

chapter list: 1, 2 [you are here]

notes: also on ao3. 2k word count. pre-relationship. part of the stoprewind verse

Mealtimes at the Black Bulls were chaotic. In the week leading up to your official first day, you had no idea—you hadn’t dined a single meal with them. Either out for lunch with Finral during a break, or so focused on getting your room cleaned that you didn’t notice the plate left for you at the door until it grew cold, you hadn’t sat down at the table with everyone until the ebony robe sat upon your shoulders and the paperwork was properly filed away. And even then, it took the witch coming out to find you and bring you back already in the thick of it to get you to understand exactly how hectic things could get.

It was well-past noon, and you and Yami had wandered aimlessly throughout the forest talking. It turns out, he was serious about getting to know you—but his version of this seemed to only consist of asking unrelated questions one after another until you were sure he didn’t actually care about the answers he was getting at all. It became quite repetitive, a question and a reply, the captain barely sparing a moment to reflect on your answer given until he’s moved on to the next.

He probably does this to all the new guys, you thought, stepping over a fallen tree branch in the path, to help them feel included. You were going to be living under the same roof—you figured the plan was that Yami would spend some quality time with you before returning back to his normal routine. Break the ice, learn some facts about you, converse a little. The two of you were, after all, supposed to be working closely together from then on out. It made sense that he would be working from a mental script—he was the captain. This was apart of the job.

Nothing else to it. Nothing at all. But I didn’t know Yami was such a poor conversationalist…

It was starting to get ridiculous. You watched as he bent to pick the branch off of the ground. Pausing for a moment, he slowly rose to full height with it in hand, an unidentifiable look sitting on his face. Eyes on the branch, you watched as his eyebrows furrowed. And then, in a large swooping motion, he whipped the branch to the side. You blinked. He did it again, and again, and again, and with one step forward one more time, before straightening back up again.

After a pause, he looked at you, tossing the branch to the side. He said—“What do you like to eat?”

For a moment, all you could do was stare. What kind of a demonstration was that? And that’s what he decided to ask you? Mouth opening trying to formulate a response, you were needlessly cut off by a rising, grumbling noise. It came from Yami’s direction. The longer it continued, you realized that it was coming from the captain himself. Namely: his stomach.

“Oh!” you bit back a laugh, understanding the question now. “Oh, you’re—okay, yeah! We can find a place in town. Here—” a ring left one of your fingers and hovered in midair between the two of you. “There’s a place I really like that serves—”

“There you two are!”

Voice drowned out by the sudden interruption, the two of you looked skybound. Up higher than the trees, a figure on a broomstick waved, her dark robe stark against the sky. Flying in a sweeping circle, she found a break in the treeline and descend; the wide brim of her hat fluttering in the wind as she did. Landing, she walked over with the stick over her shoulder. Her eyes shone like jewels, tinted lips curving the closer she got. She was recognizable even from a glance—Vanessa Enoteca.

“I was sent to look for you guys!” she said, with a hand on her hip. She was as beautiful as they say. Perhaps moreso, in person. “Figured you guys would be in town by now, but now that I think about it—this makes way more sense!” She smiled at you like she knew something, but you were certain you had absolutely no clue on what exactly that something was. Before you had time to respond however, her gaze traveled. “A quiet little outing—I didn’t expect that from you, Yami!”

The captain shifted his weight, reaching for a new cigarette and swatting at your still-floating ring, causing it to return to your finger.

The action didn’t go unnoticed, but, “Lunch is ready,” she was carrying on. “Let’s get back and eat!” And with that, she turned on her heels and started down the path with a bounce in her step.

Hesitating, you adjusted the now resting ring on your finger. The final piece of the puzzle put itself into place in your mind as Yami’s hand came down gently on your shoulder as he passed you, leaning down so his next words were heard by you only—“Next time,” he said, scratching the hairline at the back of his neck. The action drew him closer, and his next words came quieter, a rumble that shot exactly to where it shouldn’t—“There’s a place I like. I’ll take you.”

---

Despite the order of finding work, it seemed like the entire squadron was there; filling their plates high and chatting all the while, loud and boisterous—this was the Black Bulls you knew. Sitting in a circle around a rather large table, chairs and sofas had been moved to gather around; the common room transformed into a space to share a meal together. The noise was incredible, each person’s voice raised to speak over the other, seemingly in a constant loop that grew louder and louder by the second.

“Captain!” called the man with the mohawk. Magna Swing, with his gloves still on and sunglasses pushed up towards his hairline. “I saved seats for you!” He patted heartily at the loveseat beside him, nestled between him and Finral. “Come eat!”

Vanessa found a seat on the opposite end of the table—and it appeared that the only remaining place for you was right next to Yami. A bit sheepishly, you followed him into the fray and sat down. It was a bit of a tight fit—the loveseat was of average size but Yami’s bulk was anything but average. An unfortunate shift in your seat could have your thighs pressed up against each other—and following that specific line of thought, you snuck a peek sideways out of the corner of your eye.

He was silent, face once again unreadable as he filled his plate with the buffet before him. The reach of his arm going across the table towards the various foods stretched his muscles nicely, and when he pulled back, the shape of his biceps had you—

At least Finral was on the other side of you. “Welcome back,” he smiled. “You two were gone for a while.” There was a certain lit to his voice, one that brought to mind the memory of earlier in the day, when just about everyone had laid witness to the misunderstanding in front of the base.

Your face burned. “N-no! We were just talking!” You looked towards Yami but any additional input you hoped he would have provided was nonexistent—his plate now towered high with several portions worth of food. He slapped thieving hands away, the movement drawing your eyes to the ring encircling his finger. Stealing the light, it sat vivid against his skin and the scars that embedded him. A new connection; a bond formed between the two of you, the ring a symbol of your—

“We were just talking,” was your explanation. For everything. “Just walking around the woods!”

Finral gave you another smile, polite this time, and raised his glass to his lips. “Okay, okay. I won’t embarrass you.”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about,” came Yami’s voice before the overloaded plate was dropped in front of you. “Figured we’d talk in peace. Finally. What with you hogging up my new ride’s time and all.” His face was still indescribable, but the angle of his brows were curious as he locked eyes with Finral. “Couldn’t even offer a simple hello before you started portaling across the entire kingdom.”

There was a certain hardness coming from the captain. A pressure that weighed you down, leaving you sinking into the cushions as suddenly an awkwardness settled within the room; a haze that slowly drowned out every voice. Not so subtlety, conversations stilled and all eyes came to your side of the table.

Avoiding every gaze, you focused your attention on the food. There was just about everything on that plate, the entire buffet’s worth of selection spilling over each other and tumbling down the tower every so often—and a glance at Yami found him without a plate of his own. Admittedly, with so many different flavors and textures mixed together, it didn’t look very appetizing at all—but a fork was passed over to you, so you started to dig in, if only to appear that you weren’t paying attention.

Picking at the bread, you listened as Finral sputtered. “I was just doing what you asked of me!” his eyes flickered in your direction. “Come on, I’m not trying to—we still have a lot of places to mark—”

“Now you suddenly want to work.” Coming from Yami, it didn’t sound like a question.

You knew of Finral’s reputation—he was known to slack off, often found leisuring around the castletowns instead of working. You frowned, remembering that day in the alleyway. The two of you were paired up immediately, imprinting upon countless and countless of locations, so really, who’s fault was it that you were often together? Besides, Finral was working—what was wrong with that? From what you’ve heard, he was usually off flirting…

Cutting through your thoughts like a hot knife, your attention was pulled across the table towards the starry-eyed boy from before as he called out to you. The conversation happening at your side drowned out as you tried to remember the kid’s name.

“Asta!” he supplied. “From Hage Village!” You didn’t know where that was. “I didn’t get the chance to ask you before—what kind of magic do you use?”

His obliviousness to the confrontation happening literally right in front of him was a breather, causing a soft reset in the vibe at the table overall. Slowly, conversations started to pick back up and the noise level steadily grew—not to what it once was, but high enough to no longer be as obvious about the eavesdropping as before.

“It’s ring magic,” you explained, trying to concentrate. With multiple conversations happening all around you—including the one currently flying over your head—you were finding it exceedingly difficult to hear yourself. “I can do a lot of things with it, but it follows the basic functions of rings as a whole.”

Asta shoveled food into his mouth as he looked at you in awe. Without swallowing, he asked, “What’s that?”

“Communication. At least, that’s how I think of it.” You thought of playing with your mother’s jewelry box as a child, and fiddling with her rings. They were cheap things, bought on whims, but you didn’t care. They were beautiful; hers, a piece of her left with you while she worked long hours, away from home. You felt your heart start to swell at the thought of it. Inspired, you carried on. “A ring usually signifies a bond or status, so I can use them as communication or tracking devices. Opening portals is what I do the most though—it’s just so much easier to take one step as opposed to walking all the way across town.”

Suddenly solemn, your eyes lowered as you remembered: “It’s not a really desirable attribute though, since it’s so easily replaceable with actual magical items. And it’s no good in a fight.”

“What are you talking about? It sounds like you could do all sorts of cool stuff,” Asta chewed. “Besides, it doesn’t matter what other people think—aren’t you here because of your magic?”

You didn’t know what to say.

“If you want to learn how to fight, I can teach you!” A messy-haired boy spoke up from the other end of the table. You recognized him as Luck Volta; and if his reputation is anything to go by, you knew taking him up on that offer was a bad idea.

His static raising your hair already, you frantically shook your head—“No, thank you, really, I’m not good at that—”

“If you need help with your magic, you should ask Gauche!” A small girl was stuffing her face. As she paused to down her drink, you were able to catch a glimpse of her features—Charmy Pappitson. She pointed in the direction of the man in question. “He’s usually using an item, too—he could probably give you some good advice!”

Gauche Adlai was looking at a photograph in his hand, hardly touching his food at all. Monotone, he replied, “I only help my sister.”

“Focusing on one aspect of your magic isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” Vanessa sipped directly from a bottle. “You’re working on portals, right? I heard you can make a whole lot more than you used to—and it’s only been a week! You should give it a proper spin.” Before you could ask what that meant exactly, the shine in her eyes appeared again as she stood up from her seat. Circling the table quickly, she came to a stop behind you. With each arm, she pulled both Finral and Yami closer, encaging you in a huddle of sorts.

“Okay you two, I think we can all agree that Finral can take a little break,” she smiled. “Yami! Why don’t you two lovebirds go on that mission you were talking about earlier?” She shot you a wink, “The two of you are perfect for the job!”

[memento-morri-writes]

whump wednesday - part iii

tw / tags: concussion, blood, bleeding out, loss of consciousness character: Rook (who else?) status: canon (took place several irl months ago as part of Rook’s first “Horrible, Very Bad, No-Good Weekend”.) wordcount: 525

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Another continuation from earlier. The party has now made it back to the Winters' manor. Having lost a lot of blood since being revived (on top of his concussion), Rook is in pretty bad shape. His mentor, Sigmar, is attempting to get him to the Winters' healers.

Rook’s eyes drifted closed, the oblivion of sleep calling to him. A sharp prod at his side dragged them reluctantly back open.  “Rook, you need to stay awake. Just a little bit longer, until a healer can have a look at you.” Sigmar’s voice was serious as he half-dragged, half-carried Rook down the hall of the Winters’ manor.  Rook groaned in response. He was exhausted, and every inch of his body ached. He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and fall headlong into unconsciousness. Sigmar prodded him again. “Tell me what happened to you. How you ended up in this state.”

Rook thought hard for a moment. How had he ended up like this? He remembered Celestia, and healing the party, and then- Oh, right. He started to explain, his words running together as he spoke. “This werewolf guy showed up. Deadringer?” Sigmar’s body tensed but he said nothing. “And he wanted Warren. Warren and Cherry, I think.” He paused, trying to remember what had happened after that. “He… he wanted to hurt them. So I told him he’d have to go through me first. And he said ‘Deal.’ and threw me across the room. I… I think one of his werebeasts killed me.” He felt rather than saw Sigmar shake his head. “I should never have left you. If I’d known she’d bring Deadringer into this… I shouldn’t have let you go off to fight someone like him without me.” Once again, Rook was surprised at the weight of the emotion in his mentor’s voice. He wanted to say It’s not your fault. Or maybe, I would have done it anyway, but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate. So instead he just rested his head on Sigmar’s shoulder. The damp chill that had come over him on the way here was getting stronger and he leaned into Sigmar’s warmth. “‘S cold,” he mumbled. Sigmar picked up the pace a bit, a worried edge creeping into his voice. “Come on, come on. Just a little further.” Rook’s eyes were heavy, and his awareness of the world was fading. He heard a door open, was vaguely aware of a brightly lit, white-painted room, of being laid down on a bed. He could hear people talking urgently, unfamiliar voices joining Sigmar’s. His muddled mind only caught fragments of their words. “Concussion… Severe… Significant blood loss… Not enough… ”  Sigmar’s raised voice cut through the fog. “Help him, damn you!” It sounded very far away, as though coming from another room. Multiple sets of hands touched his skin, and the familiar warmth of healing magic (when had being healed become familiar again?, he wondered dimly) flooded his body. The cold, clammy feeling faded away. The constant pain he had stopped registering some time ago subsided, leaving blissful neutrality in its wake. His head cleared slightly too, blurred reality coming back into focus for a brief moment. Distant voices reached his ears, borne by that momentary clarity. “It’s safe for him to sleep now. He’ll be fine after some rest.” As if his body needed no further reassurance, Rook’s mind relaxed, and within seconds he sank into a deep sleep.

[spixycong]

Me and the 12 other baseball/fnaf fans cheering for this crossover

[authoralexharvey]

Officially entering my "selling plasma to be able to afford to publish my books" era..... I fucking hate capitalism.

[frnknstin]

// i'm trying to make a timeline for Victor and my dyscalculia is screaming crying throwing up

[assmundr]

"Because we all know that a woman is not a woman until pregnancy/childbirth/motherhood/rape/infertility/other uterus related topics, is an integral part of her story" lol preach

If I had a penny for every time I encountered this in a story, I would have enough money to be able to quit my job and fully focus on the second part of the Asmundr/Home review lmao

Little tangent under the cut

I am honestly so tired of this still being an issue in the year of our Lord, 2025. It's even worse then the writer/artist are attempting to portray something "progressive" through their writing, but still somehow end up doing this.

Like, Andy Weird for an example. I loved The Martian and Project Hail Mary is honestly one of my the most favourite books I have ever read (read Project Hail Mary PLEASE I'm begging you I AM BEGGING ON MY KNEES-) but his second released book, Artemis? Atrocious. I have no idea what possessed him after he wrote the deliciousness that is The Martian to then spit out the kind of lukewarm mess Artemis was. I couldn't get past 60 pages, and I only got that far because I loved his two other books and wanted to push through. But I couldn't.

It absolutely is because of the main character, who is a woman (unlike the main characters in The Martian and PHM) and just kinda written as if an alien once did a Google search on what a woman was, spent 20 minutes reading about them on Reddit, then wrote a book about one. Nearly on every page, the reader gets reminded that the main character has boobs and has sex, because it's the most progressive thing ever to say women fuck!!! The MC has "not like other girls" vibe that obnoxiously overtakes over everything else happening in the book itself.

One of the worst books I have ever read, The Spectres, has many issues, but the biggest one gotta be how Every. Single. Female. Character. in it's story is defined by what male character they're currently attracted to. Every. Single. One. No matter who's POV it is, if it's a woman, her internal monologue and their actions will always circle back to the man she's into, completely defining her by her attraction to them instead of, you know, defining her by her personality like a regular person should be. And yes, this book was written by a man, if you were wondering.

It's even funnier when other people call this shit out, but then write it into their stories themselves, either being completely oblivious to it or bending back over backwards to excuse why it's okay if they do it. I once knew a person who heavilly criticised the badly handled sexual assault/rape in Home but then they had their own character raped/taken advantage of MULTIPLE TIMES for the sake of cheaply written drama and also have them have like seventeen miscarriages, too, because we all know the story of a person with a uterus isn't compelling until something like that happens to them. They also had a character they used as a clown and a comic relief in their writing that they were weirdly attracted to, while they were also a rapist (who assaulted several characters. Yes, it includes the previously mentioned one as well) All of this while they called out Home and Kique for misusing these topics for cheap drama/trauma/shock value.

I'm just. I'm so tired of this. I'm tired of seeing women and female presenting characters in media that's not even of this niche be written this way. Have rape, assault, pregnancy/birth related trauma thrown in left and right as if those are the traits that define women. I am tired of having to research the media I wanna engage with, whether it's a movie, a game or a book, to figure out if something like this will be a part of it's story. I don't mind at all reading about this, mind you. What I do mind, however, is when it's cheaply used as a sterotypical "female" trauma authors throw into stories so they can then label them as dark or provoking or some other shit. A woman is more than her uterus, a woman is more than a vessle for some cheap drama, and I am getting really tired of seeing this writing so often.

[cyarskaren52]

[amurder-ofcrows]

since we’re an interfaith family, we celebrate both christmas and hanukkah. hanukkah is 8 nights. christmas has an eve and a day. barely making 2 days total.

guess which one i’m still being told to be merry about and songs are playing about it wherever i go even when it’s multiple days after and guess which one has only come up with me saying happy about it first in conversation while it’s not even halfway over?