#If you aren't a woodwork kid

[themintman]

Petra! I feel kinda like she looks like a fox but.. maned wolves just look like someone tried to draw a fox from memory and fucked up so it fits

She gives of the vibe to me that she was one of those kids who thought she was a werewolf in primary school. Same girlie, same 🫤

[reasonsforhope]

By the way, you can improve your executive function. You can literally build it like a muscle.

Yes, even if you're neurodivergent. I don't have ADHD, but it is allegedly a thing with ADHD as well. And I am autistic, and after a bunch of nerve damage (severe enough that I was basically housebound for 6 months), I had to completely rebuild my ability to get my brain to Do Things from what felt like nearly scratch.

This is specifically from ADDitude magazine, so written specifically for ADHD (and while focused in large part on kids, also definitely includes adults and adult activities):

Here's a link on this for autism (though as an editor wow did that title need an editor lol):

Resources on this aren't great because they're mainly aimed at neurotypical therapists or parents of neurdivergent children. There's worksheets you can do that help a lot too or thought work you can do to sort of build the neuro-infrastructure for tasks.

But a lot of the stuff is just like. fun. Pulling from both the first article and my own experience:

Play games or video games where you have to make a lot of decisions. Literally go make a ton of picrews or do online dress-up dolls if you like. It helped me.

Art, especially forms of art that require patience, planning ahead, or in contrast improvisation

Listening to longform storytelling without visuals, e.g. just listening regularly to audiobooks or narrative podcasts, etc.

Meditation

Martial arts

Sports in general

Board games like chess or Catan (I actually found a big list of what board games are good for building what executive functioning skills here)

Woodworking

Cooking

If you're bad at time management play games or video games with a bunch of timers

Things can be easier. You might always have a disability around this (I certainly always will), but it can be easier. You do not have to be this stuck forever.

[dvchvnde]

PRAIRIE WOLF | prologue

domestic violence, abuse (not Price). unexpected pregnancy. implied age gap.

MASTERLIST. AO3

He's a regular at the diner you work at.

Sits in the same spot, orders the same thing. Doesn't say much, but—according to Elliot—he never does. English, too. A foreigner. But here longer than you've been. Grown roots. Stretched his legs.

He owns a cabin in the woods that be built with his bare hands, and does odd jobs around town wherever he's needed. Mostly carpentry. Woodwork. Only forty, Elliot says, and already semi-retired. Military grunt, though (and in a terrible, exaggerated cockney accent, he adds) back home.

Running from something, he surmises, and you try not to feel flayed under his heavy, pointed stare, offering little more than a shrug you hope is more blase than you feel and a flat, aren't we all? so what makes his marathon so special?

Comes by at five in the morning, fours hours into a twelve hour shift. Likes, what he calls, an English Breakfast.

He isn't like some of the men who show up after midnight, or in the early hours. Blue collar works hungry for more than rubbery pancakes and coffee. The ones who ignore the split in your lip, hidden under a thick coat of lipstick, the puffiness of your eye. Whispering oil-slick charm at quarter to three in the morning when the pregnancy test you stole from the dollarrama is still buried under bloodied toilet paper in the motel you've converted into a temporary home.

Price—John Price—stares at the mess of your pretty face and meets the ugliness head-on, eyes narrowed into something that might be suspicion. Askance. Wariness. Some amalgamation of what the fuck happened to you and don't bring that mess over to my table.

Quiet. In theory.

You've heard him talk—this low, growling thing; the misfire of an engine, a rumble that reminds you of the old Plymouth Fury your dad had. Dangerous. Men like him usually are.

Little girl fantasies spun into real life. Duct tape. Magnets to girls like you with all the broken pieces, fragile parts. And with the bruises bubbling under your skin—burst blood vessels, fist-sized—and the—

The kid, you suppose. Baby. You can't afford to get wrapped up into something like that no matter how many times you catch him staring.

Watching.

The other server always handles his order when he arrives. Since starting work here four months ago, you maybe had all of a single conversation when you floated through the diner in search of something to do.

more coffee? a glance. a grunt. yeah, love. I'll have some more.

So you ignore it. Him. Keep your head down and pour cup after cup to the other regulars who congregate and pretend you aren't living in a motel to escape a man who seems to prefer you bruised up and bloody. Who—

Knocked you up.

Your hand goes there. To your belly. Nauseous, suddenly, with the thought of it. This.

When you glance up, unease prickling across your nape, you catch him staring at you. At the hand still splayed over your stomach. Something frisson across his expression—whiplike: ripples over a lake—but it's too fast, fleeting, for you to catch. Tucked back inside the folds of his patented frown, the ever present crease between his thick, umbre brows.

John lifts his eyes from your ringless hand, the swollen index finger from when you made the mistake of pointing to the door, trying to stand firm with your luggage hidden in the bushes, and meets your gaze. Stares at you head-on. Implacable as always. Blank.

But—and it's so silly, really—for a moment, you thought it was hunger. Something heavy and dark. Possessive.

Then his head dips. A shallow nod. John looks away, eyes slanting towards the window as if he didn't have to tear his gaze away from your belly. From you.

Your heart is in your throat. This too thick, fragile thing thudding against your jugular. Hard to breathe, hard to swallow around it. In the way—

Outside, tires squeal against the pavement.

John tenses. A shadow falling over his brow, a tug on his lips hidden under thick, wry curls.

You don't know what it is until the familiar gurgle of an engine cuts through the silent diner.

He looks back at you as a door slams. A shout erupts.

Fear is a thick, oily sludge filling your lungs. Tarlike. Sticky molasses. It burns, corrosive, and eats away at your tissue until a hole forms, letting spill out inside of you. To your belly where it hardens into a ferric ball of panic.

You thought you had time. One last shift. Collect your paycheck and then run—

But he found you.

He bellows out your name, angry and a little slurred. Drunk. High. Like the passive, maltreated dog he turned you into, you follow the sound, cowing a little when you see him stumble into the diner, face collapsed into fury.

There's a clatter. The hollow echo of wood hitting linoleum. Screams, his yells. It's all muted in your head. Panic throbbing against your ears, stuffing them full of cotton.

His bruised, marled fist reaches for you—

But John gets there first. His broad stretch of his back filling your vision as he pushes himself into the empty space between you and this man, hands raised, catching his mangled fist in one and grabbing a handful of his shirt, tugging him closer. It's all raw, untameable anger as he huffs into the man's face, grinding the words out on a rough, animalistic snarl—

"Touch her again, and it'll be the last thing you ever fuckin' do."

Stress like this ain't good for the baby, the paramedic tells you, brown eyes dampening with a thick ring of sympathy as she turns over your wrist, and dabs cool, wet cotton over the welts on your skin.

She's pushing for you to press charges. Keeps swiping at your skin to unveil more of your hidden hurts to the police officer that holds an old kodak in his hands and snaps, snaps, snaps at every weakness, each vulnerability she offers up.

It'd be the smart thing to do. He's already being booked on assault, threats. Battery for hitting John on the shoulder, the only place he could reach, with the shovel left by the cooks to scrape the snow away from the spot they usually gather around to smoke. No one brings up the fact that John was choking the life out of him at the time, and the bruises around his neck—ugly red fingerprints—are easily ignored.

Adding domestic violence to the list of charges, she mutters, will keep him locked up. Away from you. Can file for a restraining order, the cop adds, scratching the back of his neck as the camera sits, poised and intrusive, in his other hand.

The problem is that you've been through this before.

Like mother, like daughter.

The knife twists a little deeper. Gouges out another pound of flesh lost to a broken home. Another cog in a ruinous system. Poor kid, below the poverty line, with a dad who sold drugs and mother who did them. Dime a dozen.

And with that comes the knowledge that his sentence will be lighter than they're alluding to—if he has one at all. Upstanding citizen before he got shackled in with the wrong crowd, the runaway. Trouble who breezed through and picked the son of an attorney in the big city some three hours away from this town, this dilapidated diner. Sinking claws in.

My son never drank or did drugs before, your honour—

He'll get off with a slap on the wrist because he's never been in trouble before.

Your dad, too—in jail for the weekend when your mother relented to the impassioned beseeches given to her by rookie cops who just wanted that arrest notch on their belt. Saw a judge on Monday. Prison too crowded for such a paltry offense.

The hurt, after, was always worse than what he went to jail for.

So. No. You won't press charges even though you know you should. It'll take too long and you don't plan on staying much longer. Not with your luggage packed in the trunk. The cheque shoved clumsily into your hands when the manager came out to make a fuss, angling a purpling finger in your direction—nothin' but trouble since the day you were hired—only to be stopped by the wall that is John Price, a snarl pulling up at his lips as he barked call the fuckin' police and, low, as if he didn't want you to hear, adding: you ever point your finger at her again like that, and I'll hang you from the goddamn rafters.

You're not sure why he's still here, standing watch. On guard. His bloodied, bruised hands shoved into his armpits as he paces back and forth like a caged tiger unaware the door has been open the whole time. Stalking. Taking measured, meaningful steps towards anyone who tries to come over—badge or not. Barking out orders. Lancing people with his glare when they tread too closely.

Good fucking samaritan, you think, eyes riveted on the blood drying over the gravel. Your head looping, weaving in arching circles as you try to contend with the fact that it somehow isn't yours, but his.

Maybe that's why he stays. Obligation. Civic duty. It makes you snort, and the paramedic glances at you sharply, assessing in that too thick, too kind, way of hers.

"You doin' okay, mama?"

And you wish she wouldn't call you that. Make it real. Mama. Your idea of motherhood, of mothers and moms and mamas, is a woman slumped on the couch, passed out after staying up all night talking to ghosts. Nails caked with the dust of percocets and restoril and oxycodone (oxycotton, she's always called it). Popping mouthful of pills in the morning, afternoon, evening, and night. An assortment to keep her functional—and asleep.

Nodding off in the middle of conversations. Or fighting it to stay high. Irritated and combative whenever she ran out, supply gone dry.

Toxic.

Neglectful—at best.

You can't think about what you'll end up doing to this kid with her blood in your veins. Her ghosts in your head.

John moves. A shadow in the corner of your eye. "'bout enough of that, don't you think?"

She backs up, startled by the aggression in his voice. "I just—"

You think you hate them both. "I'm fine."

She looks back at you, searching. Wanting that assurance, but whatever she's looking to find, it isn't there. You won't give it, and eventually she nods. Peels back. "Okay. If you feel any soreness at all, if anything changes, come to the hospital."

The nod is for her benefit only, and she takes it with a deep inhale.

It thins out after that. The cop and his camera leave, too, after making you take the paperwork needed to file charges. If you change your mind. His number in smeared blue ink on the back. The paramedics go after another futile round of are you sure you don't want to get checked out at the hospital that's decline with a shake of your head.

It's just you and Price now. Your beatup Saturn three spots away from his truck—an old Ford you hadn't been expecting a man like him to drive, with his thick Levi jacket and his steel-toed boots. Standing there with an armful of paper that's going to go in the trash, you're not sure what to do. How to untangle yourself from the claws of this vicious bear that seems content to loom over you like an unasked for cloud, glaring down at you from the bridge of his nose. Expression pinched, like he's displeased. Mad.

You've had enough of angry men, though, and you turn, offering a hollow smile that works it's way around your mouth like a grimace. "Guess I should head home—"

"Running, mm?"

You blink. "Sorry?"

He leans down, all grit and blunt teeth. "That your plan? Runnin' away from all'a this? Find another town. Another motel."

Another man.

He doesn't say it, but it's there. The implication. The idea. It rankles down your spine, a whitehot ooze of shame. Of anger.

"You don't know me," you spit, all anger and indignation. Embarrassment so sharp, it cuts. "You don't know anything about me."

He rocks back on his heel, mouth flattening into an even line. "No, I don't. But I know your type."

"You—"

The indignity is increased tenfold when he meets your ire with an impassive stare, so firm in his assessment of you that he doesn't even bulk when you glare at him. When you rage in quiet fury, shoulders shaking.

"You'll run," he continues, bulling over the vitriol that stutters out in broken squeals of anger. "You'll find a new place. And it'll be fine for a little while but then you'll end up in the same situation because that's all you know, isn't it? S'why you're not pressing charges. Why you got your bag in your back seat. The slightest pressure and you bolt—straight into the same predicament you're in now."

"It's not my fault—"

"No," he grinds the word, firm and sure, and it snatches you by the throat because no one has ever agreed with you on that. It's not your fault. It's just—

"—all you know."

"What am I supposed to do differently, huh? Stay and press charges that won't stick? Wait for him to get out, frothing at the mouth for revenge? Yeah, right," you scoff, rolling your eyes up towards the stale sky. "End up as another statistic? Or—"

Like your mother. It quiets you. Snuffs the flames. All you feel is scraped raw. Hollowed out. Empty and hitting and—

"So you'll just run your whole life? Until it catches up to you, mm? What happens when someone finds you in a place you can't run? When you're all alone, and cornered?"

It tastes like defeat. Resignation. "You think I haven't thought of that before?"

From the corner of your eye, you see him shrug. "Got yourself into a little mess, but it ain't the end of the world. Jus' got to fix it. Can't do that when you run."

"And what's your solution? Find another job, hope that his charges stick? He—"

Drained you financially. Beat you bloody.

You shake your head. "The best thing to do is to leave. I'll be smarter, I'll—"

He scoffs. You ignore it, hands shaking.

"I can't. I just—I can't."

"Come stay with me," he says. Just like that. Stay with me. The sky is blue. The grass is green. Come stay with me. "Got a spare room."

"I don't even know you—"

"People rent to strangers all the time."

"I don't have a job. Money. I can't pay you—"

"Been needin' a receptionist for some time. Pay is fair. Hourly."

You blink, eyes hot. Wet. You feel the sharp edge of hope digging in, that deadly, terrible thing that only ever falls apart when you finally relax.

"Just like that?"

He nods, sharp and firm. "Jus' like that."

"I have a kid," you blurt out, panicked. This conversation is getting away from you. Slipping through your fingers. And the worst is that it sounds so good. Too good. "I'm—I'm pregnant," you add like he doesn't already know. Hadn't heard you mutter it to the paramedic hours ago.

The look he levels you with is an incendiary thing. You feel it in your chest. Deadcentre. "I know," he rasps, head bending down closer to you. "Doesn't change anythin'."

"How could it not?"

"How should it?" He counters.

"In a few months, when the baby is here—"

"I won't change my mind."

"You say that now," you breathe, pulse thudding in your ears. "But when it's screaming in the middle of the night, and—"

His hand reaches out slowly, like he's trying not to startle a horse. Fingers grazing your arm, warm and rough, before closing around your wrist. The one that's bruised and sore. Swollen in his hand. Its done with measured purpose, confidence, that the panic doesn't have time to surge. Instincts too incipient to keep up with the sure, steady way he winds around you.

With his hand on your wrist, fingers folding over the hurt—hiding them—he leans down, thumb stroking along your skittish, unraveling pulse, and makes you meet his stare. Open, maybe, for the first time since you met him. All raw want, naked truth. The bare, fractured look is enough to steal the air in your lungs, snuffing out the innate protests that spume whenever someone offers any sort of help or charity. The no crushed under his heel.

"m'a man of my word," he low, drawing the words out. "I'll be there for the cryin' and the dirty diapers and the sleepless nights."

"And when I can't work for you?"

His lips quirk. "I offer better MAT leave than most places. Reckon you could even do the bloody job from bed."

"Price, that's—this is insane—"

"John," he grunts, giving another shrug before peeling away from you. "Savin' me the trouble of talking to these idiots. Ain't nothin' crazy about that."

"I could be a horrible person. A murderer. Rob you blind, and leave you with you nothing."

It has the opposite effect of scaring him off. If anything, he looks amused. Squares his shoulders, stands to his full—intimidating, impressive—height. Stares down at you with a brow quirked and strange gleam in his eyes.

"Think I can handle myself, love. And if you wanna rob me, bite the hand, so to speak, then I promise you, you won't like the consequences."

You swallow. His tone sparks against your sense of self-preservation, and you fight the urge to take a step back. To put distance between yourself and this grizzly-like man with blunt teeth and sharp claws.

He senses your hesitation. Must because he quiets, shoulders sinking. Hand warm on your skin, giving a slight squeeze before he lets go. You ignore the urge to chase that heat again, and hide a shiver behind a shift.

"How 'bout a test ride, mm? A trial. Stay for a few weeks and then decide if you still want to leave."

Too good to be true. You know this deep down in your marrow. Every instinct inside of you rebelling against this, screaming trap, it's a trap. But there's a truth to what he says, and maybe if you weren't pregnant, you would have flipped him off and ran because men like him aren't kind to girls like you unless they have a reason to be.

You're just not sure what he has to gain in all of this. Why he put himself between you and harm without so much as a sparing glance. Stayed, too, and barked at everyone who got too close. A thunderous shadow full of teeth.

And maybe it's that. The blood concealing into a thick, pulpy plum over the split of his knuckles, the blood on the gravel that isn't yours, the goosebumps rising over the spot he touched, colder than the rest of your skin, that makes you quieten under his heavy stare. Softening into something agreeable. Unreasonable. Instincts shoved into a box.

So you nod and let him place his hand over the small of your back, guiding you to his truck with a firm nudge. Say anything when he helps you in, hands fastening the seatbelt with a clipped I'll be back when he finishes, keeping his wary eyes on you even as he moves quickly towards your car, grabbing your suitcase from the back. Promises to get your car later, too. Bring it back to his house.

And yours, too, he adds, glancing your way after he tosses the suitcase in the backseat, searching for something you're not sure he'll find. So you look away, staring at the dust on the dashboard as he rounds the truck, and slips into the front seat. It smells like him. Fresh leather and the wild. Cedar and moss. Tobacco. Something heady. Masculine. Soaked sage. Loam. Gasoline.

You lean back on the headrest, breathing it in. Trying not to think.

You'll keep your luggage packed. The keys in the ignition. When whatever it is he's planning comes to the forefront, you'll be ready to run.

But right now—

You just want to sleep. Your jaw aches. Your wrist. There's a knot in your stomach—not good for the baby—and it thickens each time you look at his bloodied knuckles curled loosely over the steering wheel, the other on the stick. Close enough that you can feel the heat bleeding into your knee. All fire and spite, and—

Touch her again, and it'll be the last thing you ever fuckin' do.

"Get some rest," he grunts, eyes slanting towards you in a brief, heavy flick. "I'll stop and get some food soon, too, but it's a two hour drive to mine. And you look dead on your feet, sweetheart."

Love. Sweetheart. I won't change my mind.

You swallow down the protest that swells, the lingering residuum of self-preservation that won't let you bear your neck just yet, and offer a slow nod, blaming the easy submission on fatigue. These aches and pains that weep, tender to the touch.

Your eyes slip shut against your better judgement, the warm interior of the truck, his smell, bleeding a sense of soporific comfort you can't remember the last time you ever felt. Just a quick nap, you think. Long enough to rest your eyes—

It's swallowed under the deluge of exhaustion that rushes through when your shoulders drop, lax. He mutters something, but it's awash under the seafoam that fills your ears, lapping waves dragging you further and further away from shore. Something that sounds like girl good but you can't be sure. Hypnagogia is a terrible a thing that likes to spin dreams, play pretend in the cradle of your subconsciousness until the lines between reality and fantasy blur. Ignoring it is easier than admitting that it floods you with a warmth so deep, sweat gathers along your hairline. Feverish and sickly sweet.

Fingers dance along the edge of your brow, rough and coarse, and it's a devastating thing, isn't it? All this tenderness along the broken edges of yourself, nails grazing the fractures like they can be fixed, pushed back into place, and not as if they're about to shatter. It makes you want to lash out even though you can't feel your body anymore, stuck between worlds of wake and rest. Later, maybe, when the phantom press doesn't feel so sweet you'll snap—broken jaw and brittle teeth—at his hand until he remembers to never touch you again. A risk he won't take.

But with the knot in your belly, a baby there, too, and a body more contusion than flesh, you let it happen. Mewl, maybe, a quiet little slip of a thing, and curve into the palm resting over your cheek. Small and docile, leaching comfort as fast as you can before you remember yourself.

in the moonglade, you murmur thank you and swallow down a rough, painful sound when he scoffs under his breath, and says ain't got nothin' to thank me for, sweetheart.

[vaspider]

Me: Stop poking me. It's not funny, and I don't know you.

Tumblr Humor Master #87654: Ha ha! You could just not interact and silently endure while a dozen of us all make the same "joke" which is really just disregarding your simple statement, "don't do that to me, I don't like it." We think that ignoring people's boundary statements is very funny!

Me: Okay, so... I'll respond to one of the six of you so I can make it clear this really isn't funny, and then I'll just block everyone else without response.

Y'all, for real, you aren't funny, cute, or clever, and when you're crawling out of the woodwork bc it's funny to taunt one of Tumblr's Weird Kids or whatever, it's painfully obvious your sense of humor never graduated from "now I can be the bully I had in school."

[crsssie]

batfam as couple tiktoks pt.2

word count: 1.7k

summary: couple tiktoks I've seen on douyin with the batboys

𓅫. running off mid-proposal to buy a ring - Bruce Wayne

"So, will you please marry me?" Opening the ring box, Bruce looks up at you. You blink owlishly at Bruce, pursing your lips as you hold your hand up. Bruce tilts his head at you in confusion as you rush off, and your friends and his kids all pause to process what the hell just happened. "Father, I believe this is a no." Damian stares at your retreating figure. "No, I think they'd at least give B the courtesy of a rejection." Steph mumbles. "This... dumbass!" Your friend curses, clicking on her phone violently as she dials again, your phone sending her to voicemail. "Let's just go back." "No." Bruce frowns. "Just a little longer." It eats him alive. Bruce isn't even sure if you'll run back or come back, but he has an inkling of a suspicion that you wouldn't just leave him like that. You've never just run away from him like that— not even when he showed up in front of you half-dead as Batman. You didn't just run away like that. You never have. "Really, Bruce, I think—" "I'm back!" You yell from the distance, Tiffany bag in tow as you run to Bruce, fumbling to get the box out, smiling at him stupidly as you show him the ring. "Will you marry me?" Bruce laughs, a sound coming from his chest as you grin at him, smile lopsided. "Only if you marry me." "Deal." You grin, and Bruce presses his lips to yours. Yes. Always.

𓅫. are you ready, mr. styles? - Dick Grayson

The flood of tiktok notifications comes one morning way before Dick gets out of bed— still sprawled out on your shared bed, and you squint at your phone screen, sleep still all over your face. "... I'm sleeping on the highway tonight?" You click open the notification, blinking as you notice Dick's username, scrolling to the second photo as you listen to the audio. ...Dick made a tiktok about you again. Right. ..oh. You smile as you notice the photo, a familiar one, a photo that Dick had insisted on taking while the two of you were out for dinner a couple of days ago. You click through the audio and confirm your thoughts. Dick posted you to a couple audio again. The news gives you butterflies as you lean down to press a kiss to Dick's temple, yelping as he yanks you down instead, pulling you on top of him as he smiles. "G' morning, gorgeous." "'morning." You smile. "I saw your tiktok." "Did you?" "Yeah." You hum. "Were you planning on telling me?" "No." He mumbles, pressing your head to his heart as you listen to it beat. "Love you." "Love you too."

𓅫. shopping in his arms - Jason Todd

"Which one?" "Mm..." You purse your lips, grimacing. "I want the regular." Jason adjusts you in his arms, mumbling for you to tighten your arms. You listen, craning your neck to try and look behind you at the product. You don't know what prompted him to ask you to do this, but you aren't complaining. You like it (even if your arms don't) "I figured." He hums, reaching for the carton as your arms tighten around his neck. "I'm not going to drop you, you know?" "Shopping like this is really inconvenient." You grumble. "Let me down?" "Mm... no." He grins. "We're only here for this, no?" "We could've just gotten this from the regular market..." "You love this." You can't deny that. "Can we get batburgers later?" "Of course."

𓅫. handcrafting a hairpin for you - Cass Cain

"I have a gift for you." Cass squeezes you gently as she holds the gift bag to the side. "I hope you like it." "I'll like anything you give me." You smile. "What is it?" "I'm taking woodworking, right?" "Yeah?" You take the bag from her, leading her to the couch. "You can open it." You blink at the Chinese written on the wood, tilting your head. "I'm pulling out google translate for this." You fish for your phone. "It's from the song." She mumbles. "my affection is genuine, my love is real, the moon represents my heart." "CASSSS!!!" You sob, throwing your arms around her as you press your cheek to hers. "I love you. I'm love you. I'm in love with you." "I love you too." She smiles. "Open it." You open the box, a sob breaking past your lips as you stare at the hairpin, picking it up as you notice the phoenix and lotus flowers. Your lips pull downward as you stare at Cass, tears forming in your eyes. "Awwh, I love you too, baby," She presses your head to her chest. "Do you like it?" "I love it. I hope they bury me with this." You mumble in tears. Cass laughs.

𓅫. Cause all of the small things that you do - Tim Drake

"...what are these?" Tim looks up from his laptop, noticing the giant bundles in your arm. "Okay, so there's this trend going around Tiktok right now to this song where couples will show off matching blankets, and I got a set for us!" You grin. "Also because you need a new blanket to swap out when your old one smells nasty." "Are you saying I smell?" "I'm not saying you don't." You smile innocently. "Go shower." "I need to finish—" "You're no fashion king while looking like a rat. You're like that one audio. How does it go? claimed he wasn't the rat king but one night you followed him into the sewers and he sat on a makeshift throne and a bunch of rats surrounded him and he definitely said "I am the rat king."" You pause. "The ex-boyfriends audio." "When I finish this case." "You solved your last one two minutes ago when I walked in. Go shower while I unwrap our blankets." You wave him off. "Boo." Tim gets up, stretching his arms as the old blanket falls off his shoulders, and he presses a kiss to the crinkle of your eye, humming. "Can I see the blanket before I shower?" You pull one out, showing him one side, and then the other. "I love it. Thank you, pretty bird."

𓅫. paper rings - Steph Brown

"Steph, pretty girl!!" You land on the couch next to her, cuddling up to her as you show her the new photos you put into a capcut template. "Wait this is—" She shows you her phone screen, and you laugh. It's the same template, your face plastered on it instead. "You wanna marry me with paper rings?" You poke her cheek, grinning. "Says the one who does." She rolls her eyes playfully. "Yeah, I do." You stick your tongue out. "I'll marry you with grass rings if I have to." "Okay, that's not necessary. Worst comes to worst, we rob Bruce." You feign a gasp. "You're evil." "You love me." "I do." You sigh blissfully, kicking your legs. "I'd marry you with ring pops too." "Oh, that's such a steal." She mumbles. "Let's get ring pops for our wedding rings." "Hell yes."

𓅫. hauling a can of water to Duke after sports day - Duke Thomas

"Did you know Duke was so handsome?" one of the girls in class gush. "I'm going to give him water after the event. Surely he'll be sweaty and stuff." "What makes you think he's going to take your water over mine?" Her friend shoves her playfully, grabbing a bottle of her own, running off as your mouth hands open. You blink at the text message Duke sent you beforehand, and then at the emptied shelves in the store on campus. ... they're out of bottles. shit. Your eyes wander to the ground as you spot sealed water cans. That'll do, you suppose. Duke finishes the game relatively quickly. You've grown used to his speed, so when all the girls flock around him to hand him a bottle of water, you settle with calling for Duke instead, waving your hand as you point at the can on the bench next to you. He bursts into laughter as he jogs over to you. "Did they take all of them?" He lifts it effortlessly, cracking the can open as he starts drinking. "You don't know how awful it was." You grimace. "Curse your good genetics." "Honored." He smiles. "So?" "Good game." You grumble, looking to the side, cheeks flushed. "Thank you."

𓅫. the olive theory - Damian Wayne

"I was telling her about it, so she was—" You pick out the olive from your pizza, placing it on Damian's plate. "— talking about how her friend had somehow hooked up with her boyfriend. So now they're trying to break up." Damian nods slowly as you continue. "Now the girl who hooked up with my friend's boyfriend is crying to me about how I need to tell her to calm down. I mean, what was she expecting? Gothamites are insane." You mumble, picking out another olive. "What is your friend planning?" "Arson, but you didn't hear that from me." "Sounds relatively tame. Is she native?" "Not quite. She moved here when she turned ten." You mumble, picking another out, grimacing. "How many olives did they put on this?" "Two more." He hums, reaching over to pick them out for you, popping them into his mouth. "That's why. Todd used to joke about how native gothamites just use their connections to ruin someone's life." "If it were me... I'd just send Tim over." "Not Todd?" "I think, arguably, Tim has committed more war crimes than Jason." You finally bite into your pizza. "If you do the math." Damian pauses to think. "Yes. That checks out." "Thank you, by the way." You mumble. "Maybe next time I'll just make it so that half of the pizza doesn't have olives." "I do not mind, habibi." He looks at you, eyes gentle. "Now, tell me. Did the boyfriend get kicked?" "Oh, he definitely did—"

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 4, Unwelcome - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of sex, hints of jealousy, some slight self-deprecation.

Word Count: 1.7k

Previously On...: Now that you and Bucky are officially FWB, you couldn't keep your hands off one another, which obviously meant having fantastic sex in your office.

A/N: And it's time to finally introduce our antagonist! Sort of! Although, I guess you could say the real antagonism is the angst and anxiety we meet along the way. Chapter 11 is coming along very nicely, hence a posting today. I hope you enjoy!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala

"You're both so codependent," Nat said to the two of you one evening a few months later as you all sat gathered around in the common room after dinner. It was a rare occurrence where no one was away on a mission and everyone was Earth-side. The space was crowded, so naturally Bucky had offered you his lap, theoretically in order to open up some seating for everyone else. Aside from the two of you and Nat, there was Wanda and Vision, Steve and Sam, Clint, Thor, Tony and Pepper, Bruce, and Rhodey. Your perfectly imperfect found family. The only one who was missing was young Peter Parker, but it was a school night and Tony tried to make sure the kid had his priorities in order.

"No we're not," you and Bucky said in unison, which made everyone else either laugh or groan. You glanced up at him with a smile and then back to the others. "What can we say? We just really enjoy the benefits of our friendship."

Bucky let out a cough into his hand that sounded a lot like "Be cool, damn."

"How come you never volunteer to sit in my lap?" Steve asked with an exaggerated pout.

"Do you want me to get up, Star-Spangled Man?" you ribbed as you feigned moving out of Bucky's lap. "You can have him all to yourself." Bucky squeezed your waist in warning, holding you down against him. You knew that if you got up now, you'd be exposing everyone to the erection that had been rubbing against your backside all evening. Fortunately, Steve wasn't one to take such a joke very far.

"No, it's fine. I can tell when I've been replaced," he teased, though his smile didn't necessarily reach his eyes. You and Bucky weren't necessarily hiding the fact that you'd started having sex from everyone, but you sure as shit weren't shouting it from the rooftops. There would be far too many 'I told you so's or 'about damn time's for your liking, not to mention everyone asking 'what's the next step?,' so it was something you kept to yourselves. Besides, you both decided that the secret aspect of sneaking around made it so much fucking hotter.

"Good, you're all here," said Tony, breaking through the levity with a serious tone, "since we're all together for once, there's something we need to discuss."

All eyes turned to him. Usually, a serious Tony meant a global-threatening event, but things on the world-saving front had been fairly quiet recently, so you were all curious to see what he had to say.

"As you're no doubt well aware, because most of you aren't complete morons, there are more and more enhanced individuals coming out of the woodwork, and not all of them are identifying as friendlies. I know we've already got a great team here, but Fury thinks we could be better."

"Pretty strong opinion for a man who just sits around watching and talking," Clint offered from his position on the couch next to Nat where he was re-stringing one of his bows.

"Don't disagree, Barton," Tony continued, "but Fury's good graces and government approval are the reason we keep getting to do what we do. He wants us to expand."

"What, open up a West Coast Avengers second location?" Bruce asked with a laugh.

"He wants us to consider taking on some more members," Tony said. "Expand our capabilities. I was able to negotiate it down to one."

"Do we have a say in the matter, or has he already made the choice for us?" Natasha asked warily. Like you, the Avengers were the only real family she'd ever known, and like you, she was highly uncomfortable with the idea of allowing just anyone to join it.

"He's made some... suggestions," Tony said, holding up a stack of thick folders, "but the final decision is ours to make."

"Well, I say we stick with known quantities," Sam offered. "Like Tic-Tac. He proved himself in Berlin."

"Nah, Scott Lang's not a viable option," you interjected thoughtfully. "Maybe as a reserve or something, but not a full-blown member." At Sam's questioning look, you elaborated. "His daughter's young, and he doesn't have custody. He's not going to move across the country and leave her in San Francisco. Not for us, especially after being apart from her while he was in prison."

"Same's going to go for T'Challa," Nat agreed. "His priority is always going to be Wakanda, he won't give that up, nor should we expect him to."

"We could always invite my brother Loki to join us," said Thor with a grin. "He's quite skilled," he paused for a moment to think his statement through. "Though he is completely untrustworthy and could very well try to murder us all, so perhaps not. But what a humorous situation that would have made!" The eye rolls from around the room proved that, no, it would not have made a humorous situation at all.

"I wish Pietro were still here; he would be magnificent. A perfect addition," Wanda said wistfully, and you reached over to squeeze her hand. She'd done so much healing since her brother had died in the crossfire of the battle with Ultron, but you couldn't imagine the lingering pain losing a twin must keep her in. She gave you a grateful look as she returned your squeeze.

"Well, who else do we know that we'd actually trust enough to ask?" Rhodey posited. The ensuing silence spoke volumes.

"Natty, what about your sister?" you suggested. "You think Yelena would be interested? It wouldn't suck to have another trained Widow on the team. Plus, she makes me laugh, which, you know, absolutely crucial Avenger requirement."

Nat looked thoughtful. "I don't know if it would be her thing, but I could reach out; wouldn't hurt to ask. But I wouldn't get our hopes up; she's pretty dedicated to helping all the former Widows right now."

"Swell," said Tony with an eye roll, making a note on a piece of paper inside his folder. "That's one, maybe. But probably not."

"Well, what options did Fury send over?" Rhodey asked him.

Tony began handing out folders to everyone. Each page contained a brief bio of an enhanced individual Fury had vetted and thought might make a good addition to the team. He handed you a folder, then made to hand another to Bucky.

"I'll share with Pocket," he said.

"Of course you will," Tony said with a shake of his head. "You sharing your balls with her, too, Barnes?" You stuck your tongue out at him. "Nice, Pocket. The pinnacle of maturity," Tony muttered as he moved on toward Bruce.

"Not just your balls," you whispered into Bucky's ear, giving his cock a discreet squeeze. He did his best not to moan out loud at your touch.

"You are going to pay for that," he whispered, causing you to laugh.

"Why don't we take a look at these profiles?" Steve interjected with a cough, waving a folder in the air. Everyone began leafing through their packets. The room was silent, save for the shuffling of paper.

"Wait, here's someone we should definitely consider," Bucky said after a long moment, freezing everyone's attention. He held up a sheet of paper with a picture stapled to it.

You leaned over to get a better look and immediately felt an odd sensation deep inside as your eyes focused on the woman in question: Jade Carthage, code-named 'Vixen'. She had long black hair cascading down her back and vibrant emerald green eyes that, in your opinion, looked cold and calculating. She was absolutely stunning.

"Let's see..." you began reading out loud, "she's the only survivor of a secret Hydra super soldier facility. Looks like they gave her a relatively successful version of the serum, but she single-handedly destroyed their base before it could be replicated and defected to S.H.I.E.L.D. Damn; that's really impressive. Enhanced strength, regenerative capabilities, trained in various forms of martial arts..." While reading about her powers and skills, you couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of jealousy over your own lack of superhero abilities. It was a gentle though bitter reminder that, though you may be able to play in the Avengers' world, you'd never really be one of them. 

"She seems..." Bucky said, almost reverently, letting the rest of his thought hang in the air. "We should definitely meet her." You weren't sure why, but the tone of his voice left your stomach feeling sour.

"Well, she certainly seems interesting," Tony said, perusing the profile, "but I'm not sure she'd be a good fit for the team; I'm not seeing anything unique she can bring us that we don't already have on tap, and I'd want to know why she was the base's sole survivor. What happened to the rest of the subjects? We'll have to look into her more closely before we consider inviting her."

"I think it would be a mistake not to at least meet her," Bucky said, his gaze still locked on Jade's picture. "You can't just walk out of a Hydra base, especially when they value you as an asset. She's got to be good at what she does."

The others seemed to agree with Bucky's assessment after reviewing Jade's sheet. The general consensus seemed to be in favor of inviting Jade in for a more in-depth interview and meet and greet before making further decisions. You weren't sure how you felt about it, but you kept your discomfort to yourself. After all, she could definitely be an asset to the team if they chose to make her an offer, and if she chose to accept, of course. Those were two big ifs that might amount to nothing.And really, when it came down to it, your opinion didn't matter. You weren't actually an Avenger. You were just... Avenger-adjacent. Shaking your head, you attempted to disperse the negative thought. It was a term you'd used to refer to yourself when you were feeling less than your friends, when you were being hard on yourself. You hadn't used it in a while, and you weren't about to let yourself spiral down the familiar path of self-loathing... at least, not just yet.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[dgrailwar]

Hello Ms Echidna! Uhm......what's going on exactly?

Round 13, Day 2 - The 'Holy Grail'

' …Right. You deserve to know as much. I plan to re-create all of my children felled by humanity in the past, and let them roam the world once more. '

"What?"

' The gods created us- monsters- and then scorned us when our lives did not align with that of humanity. We were nothing but tools.

Guardians. Concepts to keep their orders in place… and yet, again and again we were felled. The slightest twitch outside of the chains imposed by us by the gods, and we were slated for murder. And as we died, humanity sung their own praises over our corpses. My children. My beautiful children. Beheaded, disgraced, ruined for the sake of man's future. My Scylla turned into a beast for daring to love. My Chimera killed, simply due to humanity's hatred. '

' Anthropos and Therion. Man and Monster. The Fates, the Gods, even ourselves… the idea that man and beast could co-exist was nonsense. A pipe dream. Thus, was I given an answer. The 'Heroic Spirit' represented the path of man. If I could re-create my children, and have them walk the path of prosperity alongside humanity. We were all born of the same world, and thus it should not be a sin to want to share it. Rather than existing as separate entities, slowly return to the same path- as children of the World. '

"In other words, summon monsters using a Servant's Saint Graph, registering them as 'heroes' rather than 'monsters'... and then use the power of the Grail to incarnate them. Living beings, forever intertwined with 'humanity' rather than being ostracized as 'monstrosities'."

"And so comes the true purpose of this Grail War. Whichever 'Extra-Class' won would serve as the basis for the Saint Graphs of the soon-to-be-incarnated monsters. A short-form test to see which Class would be the best 'fit'. There's no winner- the only one who would get her wish granted is the goddess Echidna, we'd simply have the glory as serving as the 'basis' for her new spawn."

"However, humanity would only reject the monsters as they arrived. Even the World would. Hence, the shells needed to be grander in nature, rather than simple Heroic Spirits. So that they could defend themselves. Thus, the Extra Class. Humanity would only attempt to slaughter those children again, and thus, we must be stronger than they ever will be. A world of monsters, without humans to kill them, or gods to use them as tools. A safe path for those children."

' …Grandmother… '

"No, I mean, 'Grandma' has a point. Monsters kill humans, humans kill monsters. I mean, obviously not all monsters are evil, but conflict between 'em is just how things are. Like, there's a few good rakshasa, but most of them were just sort of devouring innocents, and so that can't just be left to stand. Even if some monsters are going to be on their best behavior, not all of them will be, and a bunch of superpowered monsters is far from ideal for humanity. It'd be like dropping a ton of raid bosses on the world all at once with no warning."

"And yet, aren't humans themselves capable of monstrous actions? What defines a 'monster' in the eyes of the world? Echidna is a goddess, her children have the same- if not more divine blood- than someone like Heracles or Theseus. Who is to say that they cannot pursue heroic paths if given the chance? If humanity can possess such evil and thrive, then monsters granted humanity's path deserve a similar chance, no?"

"Who cares whether the monsters are evil? Echidna wants to bring back her dead kids, which is far from 'evil'. The issue is that humans aren't willing to share their world. The second something bigger comes along to threaten their status as 'top dog', they'll want to destroy it. It'll be a new Age, with new self-proclaimed 'heroes' popping out the woodwork and killing the monsters. So I guess if you want to progress humanity's development through struggles, I say let 'em go loose."

"…I wish I could be optimistic about this... even the great Saint Martha tamed a loveless beast with kindness. If such feats are truly possible, then a world of monsters and humans isn't out of the question if both sides have open arms, right? But... releasing monsters unto the world, such a thing could be apocalyptic. As Heroic Spirits, such a thing can't be permitted..."

"…"

"But... she misses her kids... is it really bad if she wants them to live again? Isn't that feeling normal for a mom...?"

The massive goddess rumbled, more monsters sloughing out of her form as the chamber shook with her deep sigh.

' …Perhaps other perspectives are needed then. So, Masters... '

"Hold on. Echidna, did you not hear them earlier? From the instant those Masters laid eyes on you, you were a threat. They want us dead. How can you trust their words? They're humans- they'll trick you, and then when your guard is down, lop off your head."

' And I will ask, nonetheless. '

[heycerulean]

i offer; the fact that your ocs were kids, once. that i do so much to my characters, but once upon a time, they were shit talking their math teachers. they were going to concerts. they were doing stupid things for stupid reasons and making memories. Teq Quetzeve was helping people in his woodworking class because he'd been watching his vanni work with power tools since he was a kid. Aetos Katelli was up way too late with his friends, talking about everything and nothing all at once. Teva Vaskenvae was doing puzzles on stormy days. Tev Kevas-Metilio stood at the top of the stairs and listened to his valli play piano, and sound peaceful for once in her life. Lexi Mayridge-Lyrei was wearing jerseys for her favorite sports teams and betting with her friends. they are people. they are flawed, and hurt, and have talents beyond talents. they are amazing, and atrocious, and everything. because they are people. and they had childhoods. some more stable than others, sure, but they all had those years where they didn't quite know who they were, how everything would work out. and those aren't questions you ever really answer, sure, but everyone has their own way of dealing with them; and once upon a time, there were people that hadn't found that way yet. they were kids. they were young adults. they were college students and poets and athletes and troublemakers and scholars. and in the end, i think that's the secret to a good character. build their foundations, good and bad and neutral. build the moments of trauma, and the moments of joy, and the moments of necessity and mediocrity and that they just take for granted. and once you build that, you don't have a character, anymore. you have a person.

[maitaiwiththecorpses]

Things That People With Kiddos Should Know As Someone With Kiddos

This is by no means an extensive list of things parents/guardians/caretakers should know and take into account when raising and taking care of kids, nor is this telling you how to run a household or parent, however, from my experience, these things can make your life SO MUCH EASIER and make the relationship with your kiddos and you much smoother. I'm mostly going to be focusing on more adolescent-specific topics, but a lot of this advice can be applied to kids of all ages. Some of these things that I mention might work perfectly for you and your kiddos, and some of them might not. Some of them you might have to practice working on or modify them to fit your situation. Not everything on here is golden for everyone, and not everything on here is trash either. What works for one situation might not work for another.

With that being said, let's get to it.

Take your kids clothes shopping in person as much as possible. Make them try everything that they pick on. Kid's measurements are weird and are going to be changing drastically throughout their lives. Find the clothes they like and fit into in person and buy them online for cheaper (or in person. Whatever floats your boat)

Do not waste money on surprises unless you know FOR A FACT that they're going to like it! What does for a fact mean? Well, they've either explicitly stated that they want the item, or dropped some obvious as hell hints! Do not go guessing and buying based on what you think they'll like, or what you like. That's setting you, and your kid up for failure.

Be interested in things they're interested in. Your kid likes Taylor Swift? Cool! Your reaction should be "awesome, you wanna listen to the Era's Tour setlist in the car?" or, "what's your favorite album, let's listen to it together!"

Similarly, if your kiddo creates (art, music, poetry, stories, crafts, woodwork, videos, coding, etc,.) BE INTERESTED IN THAT. Consume their work! Show interest in it! Ask to read their writing, ask to see their art, ask to listen to their compositions. They might not say yes, but make it clear that you want to, and that's something that excites you. This will bring your kiddo joy.

DO NOT. AND I REPEAT. DO NOT. BELITTLE THEIR INTERESTS. Remember: You were once a kid with wacky interests, too. Kids are always searching for validation, whether they exhibit it or not. And even if they aren't? It's just a dick move to make fun of them for something they like.

buy pencils, pens, and notebooks in bulk. You'll need them.

Oh, and sticky notes.

If your kiddo comes to you for help of any kind, academic or otherwise, you damn well help them. "I need help studying for my math test tomorrow," ok, whaddya struggling with? How can I help? Do you just need a body double here, or should I do some problems with you?

give them notes. In their lunches, on their desks, in presents, on the fridge- hell, stick it on their doors! It doesn't have to be anything long- just a simple "morning!" or, "have a great day!" works, too.

Tell them you love them and that you're proud of them. Regularly. I know there are some people who think that makes their kids soft but I assure you, you're doing the exact opposite. By building your kids up, and regularly telling them that you love them and are proud of them, they know that they are valued and worthy and loved. This will set them up for success later in life and make them emotionally intelligent and flexible. Also, kids don't hear it enough these days.

They're going to see some scary shit. You can't avoid it. This past year I had to report three attempted suicides and many more cases of self-harm that came from other peers and people I was very close to. I initially was not processing the fact that someone so close to me was hurting themselves or trying to kill themselves, and the reporting process (sometimes even involving police) was extremely traumatizing. When I finally did cry, it came days later, and even today someone might say the name of one of these people and I will immediately shut down and change my whole demeanor. And I know our kiddos are experiencing these things, so please, be there for your kids and always tell them that telling adults when someone they know is hurting themselves or trying to end their life is important and could save their friends and loved ones.

Be prepared for your kids to have some kind of mental illness or learning disability. Do not try and gaslight them by saying that it's "all in their heads" (no shit?) or that they're "making things up." take everything seriously. "Mom, I think I have adhd," alright, let's see a doctor and do some research. "Tia, I'm so tired all the time and I just want to disappear," darling, that's not healthy, that's a sign of depression- you're important and loved, how about we set up a session with a therapist so you can talk to someone about these feelings who can help you better than I can?

Always be prepared to help your kiddos and reach out to licensed professionals who can help them.

carry snacks with you everywhere. And not that healthy shit, either. Within your kid's eating restrictions, get something like a chocolate chip granola bar or a Reese's cup and stick it in your going-out bag. It will save your life when hungry time comes around.

Don't be surprised if your kids are queer in some shape or form. Support them, love them unconditionally, make sexuality puns as needed ("if you're not dating anyone rn, does that mean you're on stand-bi?") and do your own research in regard to sexuality and gender.

help them get ready for school dances and stuff. Makeup, hair, clothes, pickup lines, the whole ordeal. I promise you they're going to love you for it.

Make the puberty/sex talk a casual yet thorough thing. You want to cover all the information, but you don't want to make it so uptight that they never want to talk about it again or ask any questions. Pull up diagrams, do the whole shebang, but make it clear that they don't have to memorize everything in that very moment. Questions are ok, even after the fact.

Take them to the library.

For all your menstruating kiddos out there, stock up on pads and tampons and anything else they use every month/every other month depending on how much they use. Don't make it seem like a hassle, don't make difficult, just do it without question. If they tell you they like a certain brand or type/size/etc, adhere to that and respect it. Menstruating is uncomfortable as is, don't make it worse by not listening to your kid's needs.

Give them this thing I like to call Cuddle Days (or sensory overload days, or Overstimulated, Get Me Outta Here days). These are the kinda days that can show up on weekends after a long week and basically it's a ton of movies, pillow forts, blankets, and comfort food. And lots of cuddles, of course.

Don't guilt trip them for existing having needs. Your kids are going to need a lot and do a lot and they are grateful, but it just feels weird to express that feeling of gratitude as a teenager.

And, most importantly, let them be kids. Let them have pillow fights, and roll on the grass. Hang fairy lights up and tell them stories. Giggle about their crushes with them, and paint your nails together. Play Mario Cart and eat takeout together. Kids are so complex and amazing and it would be a shame if we took away the part about being kids in the process of them growing up, because one day they're not gonna be our babies anymore.

[pinbones]

"They never taught us x in school" is sometimes a criticism of your school's biases or specific teachers being trash, but I think a lot of it comes down to the fact that kids have each subject once or twice a week, and learn at a high school level. You didn't get to learn a comprehensive history of your country's politics and culture because there wasn't enough time in between learning every other subject and doing all your extracurricular projects and learning how to write essays better than a toddler. And christknows kids barely do homework let alone read their textbooks cover to cover to see what they missed in class.

The point of school wasn't to teach you specifics about every topic on earth, that was never possible. It was making kids literate and setting them up for their future.

Back when kids were just taught to memorise flags and country names, schools caught flak for not teaching them about the culture and politics of those places ('facts instead of knowledge'). Now, when they DO teach you about a couple of countries' cultures and histories in more depth, people complain that it's too specific, or that those aren't the right country or time in history to learn about. You see the problem? The VASTNESS of planet earth and all of relevant human history? The generalised skills are the most useful ones, and I promise you they taught you those at school, even if they didn't give you a checklist of everything you would need to know to become ~informed about the world~. And now people are pointing out that students can't name every place on the globe, when that was never a skill anybody has ever used in their lives. (Psst -- globes and maps exist.)

Look through your old schoolbooks. They taught you how to analyse souces in history, and learning about WW2 or whatever was just a way to do that. In English, you learned how to recognise persuasive writing and how to do it yourself, probably by analysing everything from newspapers to poems. You were taught about other cultures and peoples in their respective language classes, you studied at least one. You might have learned about the impacts of tourism and climate change in geography and all the things we're doing to balance them. In chemistry and physics you learned about practical experiments and how they relate to real life phenomena that affect us daily. Food tech/woodworking/graphic design/resistant materials taught you about the design and production of new market products. You probably even learned the rules of the road as a bicyclist and pedestrian at school. School taught you about diseases and vaccines and handwashing, they taught you how to LOOK UP INFORMATION in libraries and how to format sources, and if you're on the younger end, they taught you how to use Google and probably made you get an email address when you didn't see the point of them.

If you were never taught skills, then I'm sorry. But half the point of school is teaching kids how to CONTINUE learning their whole lives. It's not to catch them up on everything that happened in the world by age 18. If you had to know everything important by the time you graduated, you'd never have left

[chemkin-c-chickin]

Riku x Namine fic

Story - Hayner and co stop by the manor with Riku to help fix it up for Namine

..........................

"Hayner, thats pink."

"Its salmon."

"Its pink and it doesn't match with green! This room is the sun room!"

"Then it should be yellow, not green! The sun is yellow, Ollie!" Hayner pointed at the large window in front of them as Olette scribbled on the blueprint they cooked up,

"Such a dumbass.."

"Yeah, I can't hear you over my perfect logic. Riku, what do you think?" He looked over to their friend in the corner.

"Kids these days, stuck on their phones!" Hayner smirked and walked over, tapping Riku on the shoulder, "Yo!"

"Gah! What? Yeah?" Riku nearly dropped his phone but tried to play it cool.

"This is the sun room so it should be yellow right?"

"Hayner, I TOLD you three times this morning that its green because Namine likes plants! And brown is boring as a primary color for a room unless you're a painter or a woodworker!" Olette rolled her eyes

Riku looked between them before saying, "Yeah, green makes I guess."

"You just said that cuz you didn't wanna get your ass kicked, huh?" Hayner whispered

"Duh. Listen, just because I put pickles and ice cream together doesn't mean I'm stupid. Thats your job!" Riku smirked and gave Hayner a little poke before pulling out his phone, "Pence is five minutes away. He got the paint."

"Oh! Did he get brushes and newspapers too?" Olette walked over

"Uhh.. Yeah, he did." Riku nodded

"Great! Okay, later on when the paint dries we can put shelves on the walls here and maybe install a planter here by the window sill.."

"Are you paying attention, Hayner?" Riku leaned over and whispered

"No. I mean, I wanna listen but it just keeps comin' out, all the yappin', just get to the point, Olette.."

"Did you two hear me?!"

"Aw fuck, that was a question. What'd she ask?"

Riku shrugged, "I wasn't listening either.."

.......................

"And thank goodness Seifer switched to some prep school for college. I mean, the college we have here is good an' all, but it doesn't have a lotta options in terms of degrees." Pence wants to get into culinary school but the competition is gonna be fierce.

Namine looked up from her phone, "You're shooting for culinary school, aren't you Pence?"

"Yep! Whoa!" He almost tripped and dropped the supplies

"Cooking with oil is kinda scary but Mcduck says if the college doesn't accept me he'll hire me to help Little Chef in the kitchen!"

"Thats great! I'm glad you have a backup plan. Riku's going to look for Sora next year along with Kairi. I wish I could help but I'm no fighter. So, instead I'll just make the manor nice for when he comes back."

"You two have another date comin' up? Y'know, I'm curious, what made you go out with him anyway? He's pretty reserved."

"Heh! Actually, he makes me laugh." Namine smiles

When they get to the manor, Riku and Namine send each other more texts. Riku nearly snorts his soda.

"Whats so funny?" Hayner chuckles, "Dude, the soda almost went up your nose!"

"Hehe... pfft..! Look!" Riku showed them a text from Namine.

"Its just a picture of a fat seal."

"But look at how fat it is!" Riku, normally reserved and quiet, was overwhelmed with laughter

Namine took a picture. Another one for the favorites folder

[adalwolfgang]

Jealous Bo headcanons!!!

Thank you and love u🥺💜

Jealous Bo Sinclair head cannons

Credit to @cafekitsune for the banner(s)!

Credit to @waxxl0ver and @12gaugefalls for the ideas.

Warnings: Past child abuse mentioned, cursing, Bo's kind of a asshole, slight Vincent hate? (Depends on how you look at it)

To say Bo's a jealous person is an understatement. All his life, he was deemed as the bad twin, never getting his parents love and approval like most kids. Vincent was his parents favorite, and they made sure to make that quite clear to him.

It would take a lot to make him jealous if he is already in a relationship with you because in his eyes, you're already his and he'd be damned if anyone took away what's his. But if you aren't? Well. That person better be good at reading facial and body language. He'd deny it though if you ever asked him such a question. Probably even act offended until you walked away, and he would look at you with a kicked puppy look.

Now for how he would act. If you're both already in a relationship he'd probably be super clingy, always grazing or keeping a hand on you, making sure to never leave you alone with said person making him jealous while showing a smug smile to them. If you're both not together yet, he would try to make the other person just as jealous but take the extra step and make it much more noticeable.

If it's one of his brothers? Oh hell no.

He would flat out tell them to back off. If they keep persisting you, then he'll get more hurtful and hostile toward them. Outwardly making harsh jokes targeting them specifically, making sure you hear the joke. If you start hanging out with one of his brothers more than him? He'll start losing his shit. Trashing his garage and own personal bedroom. He might start watching you and whatever brother it is you're showing interested in and pick up on what is it that makes you attracted to them. You like how Vincent is a wax sculpture? He'll try and make something out of wax for you. You like how Lester is good with crafts and woodwork? He'll pick up on that and try building you small trinkets and gifts.

Overall, I wouldn't say being in a relationship with him would be so controlling to the point you can't take a shit without him near, but he would much prefer to know your whereabouts and all who is around you. It's not that he doesn't trust you, it's because he doesn't trust others. He was supposed to trust his parents. The first people that he was supposed to feel safe and loved with, but he never did. He loves you so very much, and you are his anchor. Without you, he's like a sailboat that never stops drifting in the open ocean until it eventually sinks.

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

OC deep dive

Thanks @mysticstarlightduck here, @mk-writes-stuff here, and @urnumber1star here!

Rules: answer the prompts for your OC(s)!

Previous deep dives:

Lexi, Maddie, Ash, Gwen

Noelle, Rose, Kelsey, Robbie, Akash, Hye-Jin

Jedi, Carmen, Carla, George

I think it's time that I do some SOTL characters! Long overdue!

Let's start with Jack, Tierney, and Úrsula!

What uncommon/common fear do they have?

Jack - dentists...sorry my guy. But also tooth fairies on top of that

Tierney - he has a high royal standing, so I feel like he'd be afraid of like being kidnapped or someone close to him being kidnapped

Úrsula - losing control of her curse

Do they have any pet peeves?

Jack - lazy people, whether they get results or not, piss him off because Jack always gives it his all for a very predictable result

Tierney - people judging him

Úrsula - people who don't leave her alone

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

Jack - the harp he took from the giant's castle, pictures of his family, framed historical documents/photos/art

Tierney - large four-poster bed with canopies, wall full of books with a ladder, a desk where he practices his potions

Úrsula - a handmade large bookshelf filled with books, a cozy corner with beanbags and pillows, a cello with a music stand

What do they notice first in a person?

Jack - height

Tierney - what they're wearing

Úrsula - whatever they're holding

On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance?

Jack - 5/10

Tierney - 2/10 for anything that isn't electric based

Úrsula - 6/10

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

Jack - fight

Tierney - fight

Úrsula - flight

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

Jack - small family, big family person

Tierney - large family, only kind of a family person (varies depending on who it is)

Úrsula - small family, becomes less of a family person

What animal represents them best?

Jack - probably a small dog

Tierney - cat

Úrsula - bear

What is a smell that they dislike?

Jack - lavender

Tierney - bad breath

Úrsula - smoke

Have they broken any bones?

Jack - yes

Tierney - no

Úrsula - no

How would a stranger likely describe them?

Jack - “Oh that kid? He's a strange one alright. Had him in a couple classes but never talked to him. Never have I seen someone so mediocre at everything. Teachers would always pull him aside and have conversations with him. He never seems to be fully applying himself. He never - and I mean never - bombed a test. But he also never did anything extraordinary. No awards. No punishments. He'd probably stick in the background if he wasn't trying to get everyone's approval.”

Tierney - “The third prince? I don't know anything about him. He's still a kid, and his older brothers are getting betrothed. Speaking of which, Jarred's ball is coming up, and I'm going! How do I look? Do you think he'll pick me? He better. Richard and Amani are trending! Aren't they such a cute couple? Who were we talking about, again?”

Úrsula - *suddenly getting quiet* “Her? That... beast? Well, she's kinda scary and ugly, isn't she? Like you can almost see the human behind her. It's uncanny. I wonder what she did to make herself get cursed like that. I almost pity her. She's apparently friendly, but no one wants to approach her.”

Are they a night owl or a morning bird?

Jack - morning bird

Tierney - night owl

Úrsula - morning bird

What is a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

Jack - loves pumpkins, hates cherries

Tierney - loves tea, hates beans

Úrsula - loves chocolate, hates lemon

Do they have any hobbies?

Jack - loves being outdoors, doing chores around the farm, which he'll argue is a hobby. But he'd like to build a fence or a birdhouse whenever he has time. Woodwork.

Tierney - potions!

Úrsula - too many... Composing, reading, playing the cello are the main ones!

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises?

Jack - eh, middle of the road. Depends on his mood. I think he'd like the party more than the surprise.

Tierney - nope. Overdone...please just do something small...

Úrsula - I don't think she cares for surprises. She'd love that she was acknowledged, overwhelmed by the party, and neutral to the surprise part.

Do they like to wear jewelry?

Jack - no

Tierney - depends

Úrsula - yes

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

Jack - average

Tierney - neat by force, messy naturally

Úrsula - messy but tries her best

What are the two emotions they feel the most?

Jack - disappointed yet determined

Tierney - fascination and hope

Úrsula - fear and wonder

Do they have a favorite fabric?

Jack - denim

Tierney - wool, silk, linen

Úrsula - polyester

What kind of accent do they have?

Jack - rural Irish

Tierney - "King's English"

Úrsula - Paulistano/Brazilian

✨Jack intro✨

✨Tierney intro✨

✨Úrsula intro✨

Tagging @paeliae-occasionally @rickie-the-storyteller @theelfauthor @corinneglass @wolfsbaneandotherfunactivities

+ ANYONE ELSE

SOTL intro

SOTL tag list (ask to be +/-): @illarian-rambling @katwritesshit @wyked-ao3

Blanks under the cut

What uncommon/common fear do they have? Do they have any pet peeves? What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom? What do they notice first in a person? On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance?Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?What animal represents them best? What is a smell that they dislike? Have they broken any bones? How would a stranger likely describe them? Are they a night owl or a morning bird? What is a flavor they hate and a flavor they love? Do they have any hobbies? Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises? Do they like to wear jewelry?Do they have neat or messy handwriting? What are the two emotions they feel the most? Do they have a favorite fabric?What kind of accent do they have?

[tapioca-puddingg]

The Guardians of Light and Content Creation

More headcanons that no one asked for :p

Sora ❤️

plays fornite, minecraft and roblox

plays with Ven and Lea

i think horror games might be too scary for him but he tries anyway

tries to get Riku and Kairi to play with him but they ain't havin it

occasionally enjoys RPGs too

calls Riku when he gets stuck on a hard part

sometimes plays fighting games with Riku. He always loses

Riku 💙

I can't see him doing content, I feel like he'd be more of a private person

although i feel like he might show up in Sora's streams from time to time

he's the person Sora calls when he gets stuck on a hard part

Sora also calls him to get his reaction to certain things. if not in person, then thru discord

also plays fighting games and Mario Kart with Sora and Kairi sometimes. He wins almost every time, Sora accuses him of cheating

Kairi 🌸

as for gaming, i can see her streaming rhythm games, like Project Diva

also plays Terraria

plays Animal Crossing with Xion

sometimes plays Smash and Mario Kart with Sora and Riku. she's gotten a couple wins, but Riku is surprisingly good at the game and wins a lot

very down to earth and is sweet with her chat

Bonus: Namine 🤍

artsy fartsy

does art streams

maybe art tutorial videos

likes drawing the Guardians of Light

she takes requests from the GoL too

i can also see her learning to paint

also plays lofi hip-hop

Roxas🍦

didn't even know what games were until Lea showed him

now he's hooked

likes JRPGs and MMOs

convinced Lea to play FF14 with him

he's a hardcore raider. he gets very intense

stays up til the wee hours of the night until Lea and Isa force him to stop playing and go to bed

joins Lea and Xion for meme reactions

Xion 🐚

​i can see her streaming or doing videos of chill games like Animal Crossing or the Sims

​has lofi hip-hop playing in the background

​joins Lea and Roxas for meme reactions

also likes playing party games with the squad

Lea 🔥

​Horror games and asymmetrical horror games (Dead by Daylight, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, etc)

also ​Lethal Company with Ven, Roxas and Isa

​he tends to scream and freak out. Isa gets frustrated with him in-game

​Everyone else laughs at him (hey what are friends for)

​meme reaction videos occasionally

​plays with funny mods

Bonus: Isa 🌙

Similar to Riku, he doesn't create content, but he does play games sometimes

​also enjoys listening to podcasts and reading

​will tune in to Lea and Ven's streams on occasion

​is amused by Lea's screaming when he's not playing with him

​plays games with Lea and Ven

​does not understand Roxas and Lea's memes

Aqua ❄️

i think it's canon that she likes to bake, so i think she could run a cooking channel or a cooking blog

she'll have terra or eraqus come in at the end to taste test the food

canonically is into arts and crafts, so maybe she'll make videos about jewelry-making and 3D printing

i can also see her making crystal bracelets

maybe she could run her own online shop?

Terra 🤎

defo a gym bro

​does workout tutorials

​does those videos where he shows what he eats in a day

​canonically is into woodworking so he could do content surrounding that too

​and 3D printing

​i just think 3D printing is cool okay

​plays Smash with Ven. Things get pretty heated between them

Ventus 💚

also streams minecraft, roblox and fortnite

also Lethal Company

also likes Sonic

tries to get Terra to play with him, but those type of games just aren't for him

"You kids and your video games"

Aqua doesnt too much understand it either

plays with Sora, Lea, and Isa

tries to play asymmetrical horror games

plays Smash with Terra. that game might singlehandedly tear their friendship apart

Bonus: Vanitas ☠️

plays online games

CoD, Overwatch, etc

Typical toxic gamer. You don't wanna hear him in lobbies

Has been banned from vc multiple times

None of the GoL wanna play with him lmao

Rip

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Matchup for bg3! Please! 💜

She/they, bisexual

I have blueish-gray eyes with red hair that's in a side shave (like one side on my hair is shaved). I am chubby, I have tons of freckles except on my face. I like wearing emo style clothes or comfy clothes like hoodies and sweats. I hate dresses and shorts, I don't like showing off skin.

Likes: anything with drawing/painting, games including board games.

Dislikes: uhhh spiders, driving (I refuse to get a driver's license it's a huge fear of mine.) I'm not scared of being in a car just driving it.

Isfp-t, I am a cancer. People say I have rbf (resting bitch face). Though I am really nice to people, unless they mess with the people I care about then I couldn't care less about them. I try to be helpful when I can. When I am around people I know, I can be loud and talkative (the loud part isn't on purpose it's just when I'm happy or excited). I tend to put people a lot before myself. I don't really like talking about my personal issues to anyone and can be known as the therapy friend. It's the opposite though when I'm around people I don't know, I'll be quiet and not wanting to interact. I have adhd, depression and anxiety (wonderful I know). When I do get upset I don't talk and won't interact until I have calmed down. I do cuss a lot though I'm more careful when I'm around kids/people I don't know. If I have a fight with someone I prefer to sit and talk it out and hate it when they walk away from me when I'm just trying to talk to them.

If you need more info just message me! Thank you! 💜

A/N: You didn’t specify which gender result you’d prefer, but since you mentioned you’re bisexual, I included my top male and female picks below! I hope you enjoy!!!

For you, @veethewriter , I think you’d be a great match for either Halsin (Male) or Shadowheart (Female)!

ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ Halsin would be a great fit for you! He’s kind and very artistic himself. And while he enjoys woodwork the most, I think he’d appreciate an afternoon of drawing or painting with you outside in the grove. Many Wood Elves, like Halsin, have either red or brown-hued hair, so he’s used to seeing such a color on people. However, he swears no other elf can compare with how gorgeous your hair color is. And he finds your side shave particularly alluring. He also adores your figure. He is a big guy, he’s tall and very muscular, and can’t help but want to hold and pick you up and squish you (if you’d let him that is). Your supple shape reminds him of nature’s bountiful harvest.

And while he himself has absolutely no qualms about showing off his skin, he respects your desire not to. Not everyone is as comfortable free of the confines of clothing as he is, this he’s well aware of. He’s always on the lookout for organic, comfortable elven clothing he could gift you.

And the good thing about Faerun is the fact that there aren't any cars. If you want to go somewhere, you’ll need wheels, heels, or a spell of some sort. (Or if you’re lucky, a druid boyfriend who can transform into different rideable wild animals. Can you imagine, strolling up to town on the back of a big brown bear? No one would mess with you! lol)

I’m not 100% decided on Halsin’s MBTI. Part of me feels he’s introverted, then again, he’s very willing to meet and work to help others- strangers even, so long as they’re kind and help him in return. I do, however, feel pretty confident that he’s a Feeler as well, so you have one letter out of the four for sure in common. And the two of you are also very open-minded, which he loves. Halsin can’t see himself in a romantic relationship with someone if they were to be angry and close-minded. An on/off sexual relationship? Sure. But for him to have that deeper kind of love, you’d need to be tolerant- which you are!

I also imagine him to be a Taurus, which furthers how compatible he is with you- a cancer. You two are so in love, it’s almost spiritual, like a soulmate sort of connection. No matter how sad or moody (or emo as you said) you can get, his steady and stable temperament will help comfort you, and ground you in times of great emotion.

Halsin, as an archdruid, is kind of the “Dad friend” of the Grove and his Party. He’s the one people turn to for advice and mentorship. You being the therapy friend understand the toll this can take. You’re able to support each other and lavish each other with much-needed rest and recovery when the demands of everyone’s emotional sharing/dumping become too much to take.

Halsin is a very focused and rather positive person, which can be a direct contrast to you with your ADHD and depression. But that’s a really good thing because, for all the things you forget, he remembers. And for all the times your illness and life get you down, he’s right there to pick you back up, or even just ride it out with you until the feelings pass. His presence radiates calm- he’s like a walking talking security blanket. If you’re feeling anxious, you can grab his hand, or have him lay on top of you for some compression therapy (don’t worry, he’s supporting 95% of his weight himself so as to not accidentally crush you lol).

He appreciates how mindful you are around the little ones. It makes his heart flutter. And he can’t help but think what it would be like to be in a family of his own with you one day.

♥ ♡ ♥ Shadowheart is quiet and determined. She’s reserved, especially around strangers, and she puts on a good front, but deep down she’s a sweet girl with a traumatic past. She doesn’t like talking about it too much (that is of course, if she remembers it), but for some reason, she’s more okay sharing such things with you.

She’s not very extroverted or loud, but she can appreciate it when you are. Your joy is infectious, and it’s something she hasn’t felt in a while, so she wants to do everything in her power to make you happy because when you’re happy- she’s happy.

And oh boy does she need therapy! As the therapy friend, she greatly appreciates your ability to listen and not judge when she does talk about her past or her feelings. Being raised in a cult is complicated, and there’s A LOT to process there. It’s gonna take time, and thanks to your open-minded demeanor, she feels safe enough to do a fair amount of it with you.

As a cancer, you and Shadowheart are very compatible romantically as I see her as an Aquarius. Both of you are smart, and devoted, and have a lot of feelings. The main difference is in how those feelings come out. For you, it’s easier to emote than it is for her. But that’s good. When you’re too emotional, she’s ready to reel you back in. And when she’s being too cold, you can help pull her out of her shell.

Shadowheart also has a ‘resting bitch face’, but that doesn’t mean she’s judging everyone. Okay, maybe she’s judging everyone a little bit, but to be fair there are a lot of peculiar characters out there and one can never be too safe! The two of you rarely get any trouble from strangers because you are too tough to mess with. From your more emo style to her ‘dont-fuck-with-me’ attitude, absolutely no one’s gonna be crossing you!

Shadowheart herself probably has a slew of health concerns and mental illnesses that she has yet to address. I imagine, that once she comes to learn the truth of her past, she is at increased risk for anxiety and depression. So weirdly, it’s almost a blessing her partner knows what it’s like living with these things. Your experience shows her that life can and does go on. And she doesn’t want to spend the rest of her with anyone other than you.

[erisenyo]

15 questions 15 mutuals

Thanks to @pensiveabstraction for the tag!

were you named after anyone? A playboy bunny lol. She was in the new when my mom was pregnant and my mom liked the name.

when was the last time you cried? Currently actively as I write this! My family is leaving for our first family vacation in four years in four hours and I can't attend because my passport renewal didn't come in time (12+ weeks and counting) and I just had to officially cancel my ticket and confirm that the airline does not issue credits or refunds. Feeling great!

do you have kids? God no, and hopefully never

do you use sarcasm a lot? Yes lol

what's the first thing you notice about people? I'm not actually sure. Vibes, I guess? Like whether they seem serious or fun or silly

what's your eye color? brown!

scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings all the way, though I'd say scary movie and happy ending aren't actually mutually exclusive

any special talents? I used to be a competitive fencer, if that counts

where were you born? East coast of the USA

what are your hobbies? writing obviously, I like to cook, I play a lot of pickup and intramural sports, I kickbox

have any pets? A cat! He is 10 months old and his name is pizza box and he is a demon, but very very cute

what sports do you play/have you played? I have fenced, played lacrosse, field hockey, basketball, and intramural dodgeball

how tall are you? 5' 3", though I am regularly informed that I seem much taller than I am

favorite subject in school? History!

dream job? Woodworking or glassblowing, it seems super cool. I will confess I actually do like my real life job quite a bit

And mutuals uhh...I don't know that I have 15, but @ash-and-starlight @chitsangenthusiast @blu3berrydraws @ssreeder @lesmiserablol @chiptrillino @pwincessazuwa @lizardlicks @adriancatrin @petricorah @haroldtea