#Still I felt like a little kid

[crepuscular-coyote]

I had a dental appointment today. I had my mom go with me because I was scared to go alone. I took a new plush that I got for myself and held him during the exam.

My executive dysfunction is so terrible that I have 15 cavities and need 1 extraction because I forget to brush my teeth.

I'm 20 years old.

I wish I was more independent.

[uncanny-tranny]

I jokingly thought before that reading Junie B. Jones as a kid turned me into a feminist, but unironically, it kind of did.

I honestly think it comes down to the fact that Junie B. was not only allowed to be "weird," but her character arc never concluded like other girl characters would. In other media featuring "weird girls," the girl always ended her arc tamed - by force or convince, she would be prettied up, she would smile and be polite, and she would never speak out of turn. She would be perfect then, and would shed her veneer of individuality with the freedom that is conformity. As a kid, I noticed that girls weren't permitted to be "weird" like boys were. So when I read Junie B. Jones, I loved that she was frankly just fucking weird. She said things out of turn, she was rambunctious and imaginative and she was a realistic portrayal of a little girl. I loved reading those books because the narrative taught her lessons without punishing her for being weird, if that makes sense. So often, narratives punished weird girls for the crime of being a socially unacceptable girl, not for any true wrongdoing like lying.

Anyway, I just think it's interesting, because I watched and read a ton of books and shows and movies featuring girls and women, but none of them truly empathized with (or even tried to empathize with) weird girls on their own merits and capabilities and terms, or embraced the idea of a "socially inept/unacceptable" girl without punishing her in some way for her supposed ineptitude.

[puppyeared]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[hella1975]

would you like to talk about how bad the mha ending was hella

as much as i would love to give like. a comprehensive response i genuinely dont think i can get my words together just yet without it being a constant unintelligble stream of 'AND ANOTHER THING-' and bc it's become quite torn in the fandom on if the chapter was good or bad i want like. an actual coherent response here. so i will reblog this if/when i can word it but know IM NOT FUCKING HAPPY

[wadinginthevelvet]

having a 14-year-old brother who looks significantly like Walker Scobell and watching PJO is already emotional but the additional aspect of Walker’s growth spurt & the way he starts really growing into his face & looking like a teenager over the course of the show is really something :,)))

[rexscanonwife]

I decided to start rewatching the fairly oddparents and something that I'm surprised to see (aside from it still being pretty funny 😂😂) is that I remembered Wanda being more of the straight-man to Cosmo and Timmy, probably because of the flanderization and season rot, but she actually MATCHES their energy?? Most of the time she's participating in or actively encouraging their wacky behavior and I think that's beautiful! We need to go back to that

[ghostbird-7]

MI brainrot

Ethan comes out of the therapist office looking effortlessly cool. This is not a good sign. He’s got his mission face on, wearing something that could be conceived as a smile if you haven’t seen his proper one, which is crooked and a bit too wide, unleashed when he’s being brutally mocked by a dear friend or has one of his signature puns turned around on him. When mission face is off he’s intense, makes an amount of eye contact that on paper is around average, but feels interrogative when you’re under it. He’s moving smoothly, too. Benji knows for a fact that with his ribs and knee he should be walking in his usual lope, but he’s walking like he’s in a poker game at gun point. Benji takes him home. In the kitchen, after small talk and tea, Ethan’s still got his game face on but he’s icing his leg and Benji’s given him a pamphlet so they don’t have to look at each other. Ethan tells him after 10 minutes, on the dot. “I’ve been jittery after missions where I didn’t use to be. The shrink says it’s because I’m not passively suicidal anymore,. Says I probably have been for a while, didn’t know.” He’s talking like he’s conserving money on a telegram. He hasn’t looked up from the pamphlet. Benji makes him another cup of tea, and after the next mission holds him by his uninjured body part (right shoulder seems okay) with enough pressure for him to feel it until he settles a little. Ethan thanks him with a foot rub the next week, long enough later that most people wouldn’t have connected it. Benji loves him, chooses to. It’s always been a choice for him, when he’s not in physical danger he can stack feelings around the corners of the problem till he’s looking straight through it. It’s what made him such a good technician, and it’s one of the things that made him decide to love Ethan at first. He can’t. He’ll buckle down and work through it, but always as a person. Benji will stay while Ethan works out how to feel like a person again.

[lumpofcohle]

lizzie (fave fic author/new friend) and i have been video chatting almost every week since we met in march, and it still feels so magical to make a friend like this in my 30s, wow!

it still hasn't stopped having that "playground feeling" in the best way

by which i mean: i used to meet another kid on the playground or at the swimming pool or at school, and we had like one (1) major interest in common and in my head i would be planning how we'd be best friends our whole lives

except with lizzie, we really do have that much in common, and so far all the things we don't share complement each other

she's already on my shortlist of people i could spend essentially infinite time with (we were up until 3am last night on a work night just because we were having so much fun – huge sleepover vibes)

so i just get to walk around feeling like the happy, emotionally secure child i never was while we both are marveling that the other person thinks we're cool :')

and it's so fucking nice :')

[ikemenomegas]

in light of gojo's unsealing, ive thought about diff cute scenarios

gojo being the type of person to get his mate's phone and snap hundreds of pictures of his face

this would probably never happen given gojo's privacy when it comes to his marriage but in a different world i can see this happening Gojo naming his alpha as "mochi seller' on his phone and Itadori seeing the message pop out from the lock screen and accidentally somewhat outing gojo's rs when he asks him in front of the other students why the mochi seller sent an ily message

the tender moments where gojo lets his infinity down or lets his alpha inside his infinity and he gets to relish in the warmth of their skin

the sappy things gojo's alpha has to sometimes do whenever gojo gets too rowdy and they need to placate him for whatever reason (re: alpha reading a map together with nanami scenario)

gojo sending his alpha a picture of two rocks by the sidewalk with the caption: 'us'

gojo asking his alpha if they would still love him if he was a worm and the alpha saying: "no<33"

Awww! These were really cute anon! Very happy ending which I feel like we're going to need a lot of in the coming weeks...

(Also I ran with it but why is their name "mochi seller" haha)

[Ao3 link for those who prefer chapters]

⬖ Photomaton

"Device storage insufficient, please move or delete files to make room?" you read, nonplussed.

Nobara sighed. "Sensei, I showed you how to do that weeks ago."

"I did do it." You frowned, opening up your files. Why were there so many pictures...

Nobara rolled her eyes at you and beat a hasty retreat when your hand went to your mouth as your face went warm.

There were rows and rows of photos, none of which you had taken.

Most of them were selfies, but some of them were obviously the result of Satoru propping the phone up and attempting to pose for the camera.

He must have been swiping your phone every time you left it sitting out or went to sleep. He didn't rest much, but there were so many, more probably than you'd been able to take in the last five years.

There wasn't much thought for such things when you only saw one another a handful of days every month. The focus had gone to managing the present, not on taking pictures. You'd only really thought to regret it after that terrible Halloween, when you worried you'd never see him again.

Some of the photos framed Satoru inside one of your homes. Others were almost ugly shots, taken way too close, or blurred with motion artifact. There were pictures of him haloed in the night glow of streetlights or washed out in the halogen light of a konbini. There were those made grainy with low light and some that took your breath away because he was nice looking.

Furtively, you looked up but were alone and you silently thanked your student's exasperated impatience. A few of the photos showed just too much skin to be exactly proper.

You thumbed down. The pictures were a story all their own revealing some of what Satoru did when alone and you savored the honesty. You had to keep apart from one another for so long.

The last thing in the camera roll was a video.

It opened with the shuffling sounds and the wobbling display of someone walking. Satoru wound around furniture in the darkened interior of your apartment.

"I'm home. You're asleep right now," he said lowly, "probably won't be later. I don't know how most people can sleep so much." He spoke half to himself, the deep night laying over his words like velvet.

There was the sound of the door to the little balcony opening and then the faint tinkle of the glass bells hanging from the eaves.

"Must be nice," he mused, "you get to miss a lot."

The image on the screen steadied as he rested your phone on the rail. The familiar view of the city resolved as faint golden starbursts of light. The rustling of Satoru's clothing faded until all you could hear was the faint rush of night wind and his breathing.

The video went on for over a quarter of an hour. You scrolled your fingers across the screen. He didn't move, the picture stayed the same. You leaned against a wall and listened to the last few moments, your heartbeat low and slow, your breath in sync with his from some time both here and long ago.

Satoru spoke, amused over the night-sounds:

"Don't delete this. I'll know."

⬖ Daifuku

"Good job," Gojo congratulated his dust-stained students as the veil fell.

Maki and Toge glared while Yuuji gave him a tired thumbs up from where he was laying on the ground.

"Dinner is on me tonight." Gojo ignored their halfhearted grumbling. "Decide where you want to go."

He anticipated a larger than normal ding to his wallet, but they'd earned it (and it wasn't as though he couldn't afford it). Beating this curse was no minor feat and it had been a particularly crafty one, which was why Gojo had gone with them just in case.

The students made noises of acknowledgement with varying levels of anticipation, but to no one's surprise, Yuuji was the first to roll over and dig around for his phone.

He tapped the screen and groaned.

"Sensei, mine's dead. Can I use yours?"

Gojo unlocked it and passed it over without a thought. He wasn't particularly hungry, the kids could figure this out without his interference for once.

"Um, Gojo-sensei?"

"Hm?"

"Why is a "mochi seller" reminding you to stop at the pharmacy and sending you heart emojis?"

With uncanny synchrony, Maki and Toge's heads turned to look at their teacher.

The phone in Yuuji's hand buzzed faintly.

"I love you?" he read, sounding alarmed.

Toge's eyes went a bit wide but a grin that curled a bit too much at the edges and showed teeth took over Maki's face.

"Text back," she said, scrambling to her feet.

With all her quickness, she swooped in and snatched the phone when Yuuji hesitated.

The phone buzzed once more.

"I'll be home by 8:30, probably," she read.

Gojo took advantage of Maki's triumphant look to slip the device from her grip.

"I knew it!" she pointed at him. "I knew you were hiding something."

"Grown ups hide lots of things," he replied blithely. He was confident none of the students could tell that moment had been more like someone walking over his grave.

It was not as though he intended to hide his relationship with you. Hide implied shame, concealment on the other hand had been security and was harder to let go of. There would come a moment when the kids prised the truth from him. He was not about to have that moment with his kids now, or hopefully ever, because they accidentally read his texts out loud.

Maki reached for his phone and he easily tipped out of her way, walking off and heading towards a neighborhood he knew (and the students did not) had a lot of very good restaurants.

He was silently very thankful when the implied threat of no food at all distracted the students. Or at least had Yuuji barreling past Maki and kindly dropping the matter in favor of promising to "only look at the map this time, was there a good katsudon place nearby?"

⬖ Goose Down

Satoru spotted you hunched over a rail with your umbrella open overhead, held in the crook of your elbow.

He could tell from the set of your shoulders that the summer sun was getting to you, despite the cursed tool taking a majority of the pressure off.

Your energy was butter yellow and burnt red and lithium pink, mixing slowly around your body as you slowly cycled power into the umbrella and the short sword held loosely in your hands.

Satoru ducked around a corner and took a peak at your face. Your eyes were closed.

Smirking quietly to himself, he crept around, Infinity a barrier between himself and the world. For just a little longer...

You jumped when he dropped it, nearly dropping your sword and automatically holding the umbrella high enough for him to fit under it.

"Hah-"

"Speechless?"

You gaped at him, mouth hanging open.

He nodded as if you'd just confirmed it. "This is what they don't tell you about marriage. Making someone's heart race is important even after the wedding. We'll probably be together forever at this rate."

You mouth closed and then went a little wobbly.

"It's hot," you finally said, miserably. "And it's too sunny."

He couldn't hold back his laughter as he stepped closer and folded himself around you. Your scent tingled pleasantly in his nose and your skin was warm from both heat and light, like a sun-warmed blanket.

"Oh," you said faintly, "you're cool," and you all but melted against him.

"You could just go inside," Satoru said. "I sent the students off on an adventure. We wouldn't be bothered."

"That sounds nice," you murmured, but didn't make any move away from him.

He didn't either. He didn't feel much like letting go yet.

⬖ Orange Kazoo

Sometimes, you reminded yourself through your already strained patience, Satoru just needed to be left alone to make noise.

For a moment, you considered begging him for just a little peace, but you knew he was doing this for your benefit. Shibata Kin was a difficult pill to swallow.

"I never expected anyone to send Six Eyes to join us."

It was the weakest and most recent of Shibata's barbs. The oily way he said it and the implication that anyone would dare to subordinate Satoru to this boot licker rankled.

Satoru crinkled the package extra loud on a bit of melon bread and smiled. "I was in the neighborhood."

He took a bite, chewed and swallowed while you flipped through the mission report on a clipboard.

You sighed, exhaling your worry, and handed it back. "Let's go then. It looks like all the victims disappeared from the same place so we should start there."

That place was a building that straddled a moderately busy subway station and stacked part of a shopping mall, a cluster of private clinics, and a cram school all on top of each other.

Satoru trailed behind through the store, stopping at kiosks and chatting with saleswomen, picking up and putting down objects.

You could feel Shibata's irritation transform into something far less internal as he turned to you.

"He's like a child," he remarked coolly. "Sure we shouldn't just ditch him? The curse doesn't sound that hard to deal with since I've got you."

When you ignored him, he kept talking.

"He shouldn't even be here," the man drawled.

You shrugged. "Well he is."

Shibata sourly appeared to swallow whatever else he wanted to say. You turned around to see where Satoru had gone to. The thought of being stuck with the bitter other sorcerer was worse than waiting for them to pick their bickering back up.

He waved a stuffed cat in sunglasses at you and nodded eager agreement when you pointed out a cute little sparrow holding an umbrella on a shelf behind him. Sometimes, it was best to just humor Satoru and play along.

When you turned back, Shibata Kin was gone.

Since you were all concealing your residuals from the curse you expected was in the building, you had no idea where he went.

You looked over your shoulder. Satoru was gone too.

Well.

You tapped your fingers over your pocket and then decided to let them go. Satoru always seemed to know where to find you and Shibata had called you here as backup. You should probably go kill what you were looking for before it nibbled on him.

Many fewer curses than you expected lingered in the shopping mall. They were bizarre places with as many secret passageways as an ancient castle. Away from the popular shops and crowds, it quickly grew quiet and the bright gleam of displays gave way to more neglected halls.

On your way, you passed a small bank of capsule machines. You crouched down, and smiled faintly to yourself. Abandoned in the furthest reach of the shopping mall, almost near to where a service entrance lead to another stretch of winding halls and tunnels, the items here were both ancient (by city standards) and ridiculous.

Packages of candy that still held their shine but were likely far past their expiration date sat beside tiny figurines of a frog-shaped toddler in a little red hat. You grimaced back at those and moved on.

Near the end of the row was a machine that sold tiny musical instruments, plastic and paper and probably terrible sounding, but it wasn't expired food or frog children. You stuck a few coins into the slot and turned the dial.

An acid green ball spat out from the slot.

You picked at the latches on its side while you found your way further and further into the little used corridors.

There was a flash of something, like a burst of camera illumination from behind a door on your right.

You slipped through it, pulling your blade free from its sheath at the small of your back, and emerged into a tunnel that looked to be connecting to the nearby subway station. Not far ahead, the darkened path split into two.

You flipped the sword around so its blunt edge rested against your forearm and sprinted, dashing across the intersection.

A blur of motion came at you. As it grazed by, you snatched at that movement and sprang into the air, high enough to crouch on the ceiling of the tunnel.

The curse was a near perfect twin of the one a little ways down the way the attack had come, which should have maybe been your first hint. The one that had come at you was grinning, its face a rictus mockery of a theater mask.

They both sat, crouched like toads. You feinted toward the one that had come towards you, and at the last minute flew down to the other, its mouth bent in a painted looking frown.

It backed up in surprise, but not far enough and your blade nicked through the face, which was hard like dense wood. The air around your other hand shimmered in heat, as you struck for the thing's cavernous eyes.

It emitted a furious, scolding gurgle that almost reminded you of some of the window teachers from high school, and swallowed the burst of heat before it could crackled around it into full flame.

You hardly had time to reinforce your body with cursed energy before you were blasted from two directions, letting the momentum carry you and trying to wrap the more opposing forces and the roaring sound of displaced air into your own cursed energy. But something about it resisted you, and you were unable to absorb as much of the attack as you usually would.

A racking shiver radiated through your body right before you were caught by a broad hand on your back.

"Hi," Satoru said sweetly.

"Hi," you panted, automatic, eyes still fixed on the curse.

"What's going on?"

You looked up at him with incredulity.

Hoisted in his other arm was the limp body of your other companion.

Satoru's head cocked to the side, curious as he looked at the curse.

"I don't know yet. I hit it and then--" the mask of the frowning curse was ash blasted and the notch from your first strike still there, but it was not as damaged as expected.

You regained your footing and stood upright.

"If I give it another go I think I can figure it out."

He tilted his head.

You sized up the two curses waiting outside the reach of Satoru's infinity.

"Oh." You reached into your pocket and handed him the green orb.

"What's this?"

"Dunno," you said with a faint smile. "I got it for you."

"Aww, you shouldn't have."

Maybe not. Satoru thinks gachapon are funny, you should show him the line of machines if you get out of here the same way you come in, then he can choose something himself. You still have a few coins on you.

You flew at the grinning curse, both hands on the hilt of your blade, cursed energy flashing into a point a good six inches out from where the metal itself ended.

You held, crystalizing your own movement for a moment and stared deep into the thing's empty eyes.

It twitched, and then its arm moved and you slashed downward, intending to cleave the limb away.

The blade hit, you knew it did. You were able to dodge the attack you anticipated from the smiling curse. The frowning curse in front of you struck back, almost at the same time.

You pulled on some of the reserved momentum you'd held back in your initial strike and barely twisted out of the way.

You lifted the gleeful cackles of the twinned curses from the air and tried to twist them into a crackling rope of flame to surround the grinning one again. As you had expected, the damage did not seem to completely take and you were forced to duck when a bolt of heat tried to sear your back, culminating in another blast that shook the tunnel and thew you once more.

"That's enough."

Satoru appeared at your side again, pulling you back behind the shield of his power when the curse's retaliation threatened to cut through you.

"This one's a bad match for your technique," he murmured thoughtfully.

"Is it reflecting through the faces?" you asked, catching your breath.

He hummed.

Absently, you realized you could scent the sharp, fresh smell of citrus on his breath - the smell of the biting orange flavored candy you'd shared with him on the train ride here.

"If it reflects yours too--" you trailed off. What you did was firmly in the realm of the "real" and Satoru's abilities were not. If this curse were to reflect back blue, or red, or heaven forbid purple... well you'd never seen or asked up until if Satoru could stop his own techniques. It seemed a tactical oversight in this moment.

Satoru stepped forward.

"Stabilize him," he instructed flatly. He'd tossed Shibata Kin's still body where he had been standing barely a minute before.

The curses had moved closer and pressed together, beginning to meld into one another before your eyes. The damage you had already done was fading further.

You knelt at Shibata's side, shaking back your sleeves. "You know this is going to poison him."

You carefully set two fingers underneath his right collarbone, and three a few ribs below his heart on the left and focused in on the flickers of electricity that powered a human body.

"Oh well." Satoru's grin was a baring of teeth. "He'll get over it better than being dead."

You could sense the arrhythmic flutter of Kin's heart, like the popping scatter of an overloaded lamp, like a fractured version of that flash you had sensed earlier.

"You know he was trying to set you up right?" Satoru asked as he batted away an experimental chunk of rubble the curse tossed his way with a flick of his wrist. The stone was aimed right for the face of the smiling curse and even as it hit, it seemed to bounce back, hitting Satoru's shield and falling to the ground.

You sparked a bit of your energy to pure electricity, sending it jumping from one side of Shibata Kin's chest to the other.

"It crossed my mind," you admitted, murmuring as you concentrated. "But I didn't pursue the thought."

Satoru snorted. Yes, alright it was more likely you'd decided thinking about it too hard was going to distract you from the mission but you were here anyway.

You counted the pulse of electricity between your fingers to your own heartbeat until Kin's matched, or at least matched better than before.

When you pulled your hands away, Satoru cracked his knuckles. It looked like he was going to go in for physical attacks.

"You might need to manage the tunnel," he said.

Yet another reason this was a bad match up, not just for you but for him. Satoru did best in wide open spaces where he had room to move and didn't need to worry too much about collateral damage. Dropping a ton of rock on your heads and collapsing the buildings above sounded like a thing that could happen.

You had barely pressed your hands to the ground when Satoru was off like a shot.

The curse wasn't that strong - a high end second grade or low level first grade at best given that it wasn't itself attacking to provoke a response - but it split into those two halves of itself and reformed again as needed to minimize the impacts Satoru rained upon it or flank him.

Limitless lay against his skin between each strike so he remained unmarked, but the cavernous space still rocked with noise and dust shook from the gaps between tiles. You steadied it best you could, absorbing the oscillations and dampening the noise.

It did not take long for the frowning curse to realize what you were doing and send the smiling one racing for you. With one hand on the ground and one on your sword, brimming with unspent potential, you raised the point.

"Nah ah." This seemed at once to you and the monster charging your way. Satoru appeared in its path and bodily kicked it away.

It did not take long after for the twinned curses to be dispatched. Although the only reason you weren't holding your breath is because you were gritting your teeth with the effort of holding the ground together and trying not to shake apart yourself.

Satoru in motion, in a fight, particularly when physical constraint demanded more of his ingenuity, was always a sight to behold.

He came back to you looking unfairly dewy post exertion, with his hair in a sort of windswept disarray, the fabric around his shoulders bunched up. He shrugged out the wrinkles and dusted off his hands.

Your briefly pressed a hand to his knee after you steadied the last tremor from the ground.

"Thank you."

Satoru tapped his forefinger twice against your temple as he walked by. "A feedback loop between you and that thing would have been very messy."

You stood up, swaying slightly.

Even though Satoru would have happily dragged Shibata to the exit point, you insisted on tugging him upright and at least moving him through the air to a place where the three of you could safely rest and call a car.

You had settled him against a wall and were calling Akari when he finally stirred.

"What happened?" Shibata asked weakly.

You turned around to look at him and from Shibata Kin's tepid expression and the sound of shifting cloth behind you, you assumed Satoru must have copied your movement.

Still, you gave him a faint smile and couched down beside him. He didn't have the strength to move away as you grabbed his wrist and felt his pulse. It was thready, but he'd be good enough to get the rest of the way above ground until an actual doctor could take a look at hime.

"We're all alive," you explained unnecessarily.

Shibata Kin's eyes moved from your face to over your shoulder. Sweat beaded his brow and upper lip.

From behind you came a buzzing hum, somewhat approximating a sad tuba. Waa wa wa waaaaaaaa, it trailed off.

Satoru had a the wide end of a grape purple kazoo held between his teeth, his sunglasses already exchanged for the bandages he'd had wrapped around his eyes.

Only just in time, you ducked your face into your shoulder and hid a smile.

⬖ Pet rock

You were walking down some quiet residential street, trying to match the map to the trail of the curse you were tracking. It was not very intelligent, but it had a pernicious little ability to draw other curses to it under the banner of a powerful command. You'd been swatting third and fourth grades out of the air as you chased it, trying to wear down its arsenal.

It wasn't a terribly good strategy however and the thing had been winding its way through side streets to buy time. If you could get in closer, you could chop away at more of its train of screaming fears, maybe get a head start on the main peril. Thus the attempt at navigating and figuring out its destination so you could cut it off.

At least Hirano-san would be happy. Maybe. Culling curses required balance; they were their own little ecosystem. As long as the things aren't eating anyone, a certain amount of apex predators in an area could be a deterrent, like the old practice of putting powerful relics out like roach traps. Have the inevitable critters fight and eat one another rather than their human hosts.

A notification popped up over the map, and then another after it.

You felt your shoulders drop as you recentered yourself with a faint smile.

At your hotel later that night, you recalled that Satoru had sent you a message. You fell onto the bed, wrapped up in the hotel bathrobe.

It was... nice, knowing that someone was waiting at home for you. Or if not at home, he was still busy as ever, out there in the world somewhere, thinking of you. Weirdly normal.

The message was a picture. You blinked up at it. Two little rocks and a flower growing out of a crack in the pavement to shade over them.

>> ?

Almost immediately you saw three dots appear.

<< it's us!

Is it? you thought skeptically, looking at the picture again.

The dots again.

<< You don't think so :(?

Your phone was buzzing in your hand before you had even a moment to answer.

It startled you enough to drop the phone.

Owww

"You took so long to answer. This is photography, are you discouraging my new passion? It could go on a greeting card."

The word salad was meaningless and silly, weightless.

"I dropped you on my nose," you said, eyes closed as you rubbed the spot the corner of your case had hit.

"Were you that surprised by it?"

A pause.

"It's cute." The notion of it and the fact that he'd sent it to you was cute.

"It is cute right?" His voice was bright but not overly loud through the phone, for which you were grateful, already settling into warmth. "The flower is poisonous too."

You curled up on your side and held the phone close. Maybe he'd get lucky and you would find something cute to send back to him.

⬖ Puddle jumping

a/n: You have no idea how much googling I had to do to figure out what the prompt meant. I am not on the tick-tock app lol or, I've found, a fan of this meme... the implication that girlfriends ask useless questions as a rule seems sort of meh. So I mostly kept to my original response to this which was "i don't know what that is and honestly probably neither does alpha"

Satoru was herding you down the sidewalk, occasionally listing one way or the other to get you out of the way of other pedestrians. Sometimes he did it for the simple fascination of how you swayed along by him like you were on a tether. Even while you eyes were all but fixed skyward, you stayed roughly the same distance from him.

It was the first day of sun after days of rain and also one of the first days he had off with you in so many apart. He had been too restless the day before, back off a bad mission that had more to do with the desperate unpredictability of people than the intrinsic darkness of curses. You had not resisted him when he drew you out, stifled by the low clouds and humidity and longing for openness. Even with Infinity blocking the rain, it had felt like being closed in again.

Relieved of their burden, the clouds had gone from iron grey to diaphanous white and pealed up and away in swaths like billowing curtains. This is what you were watching - their retreat from the earth. They had come so low they wrapped around skyscrapers and telephone poles on their back to their usual place.

Satoru watched the drowned earth. You had cut through a tree lined walk. The rich soil was churned and muddy and the long bodies of worms that had been washed out or crawled up were strewn about.

Your and Satoru's steps made no mark as he stretched Infinity over and around the two of you. Neither of you tread upon those blind, waterlogged creatures.

Satoru stepped behind you to allow a cluster of high schoolers to pass and hid a faint wrinkle of his nose as they squealed and ran by, realizing they were stepping on some of the remains.

Your umbrella was folded and carried at your side, and you tilted your head back at him, looking a little sun-drunk. He smiled at you. He could see the reflection of the sky in your gaze.

He adopted a pout, snickering internally as you immediately seemed to regain some awareness and a wary anticipation entered your expression.

"Would you still like me if I was a worm?" he asked.

You blinked at him. "Is this one of those things you learned from the kids?"

He slouched a bit, crowding into your space. "Would you still love me if I was a worm," he wheedled.

"Are you turning into a worm?" you asked, slightly panicked, hand going to his arm as though to check if he was going as wet and floppy as the poor things on the ground.

"I'm going to turn into one if you don't answer my question."

The last of the distracted fog lifted from your eyes as you shook yourself. You took his hand and pulled him close to let another couple pass you on the walk. They inclined their head in thanks.

There was no rush to get where you were going and you tugged him along a smaller path that cut under a row of thick-branched trees so you could walk side by side unimpeded.

"I still liked you when you were a semi-sentient six sided die," you pointed out, smiling slightly.

"It's not the same," he whined a bit, drawing out the words in a sing-song fashion.

"Isn't it? I'm not sure a die eight kilometers under the ocean is more useful than a worm."

"Hmph."

"Although I really hope the worm thing is hypothetical."

"Why?"

"Because with our luck that would mean I'm a worm too."

Satoru huffed a faint sound of amusement. "Nooo. You'd still be some kind of bird." He patted your back. "Don't worry I'll make sure to crawl out late so you can still be in time to eat me all up."

"... Are you propositioning me or telling me to hurry up?"

"Walk faster or I'll step on the backs of your shoes."

You did. The two of you walked faster and faster until you were all but chasing one another out of the park, laughing lightly as you dodged the spots of wet on the ground.

[entryn17]

Curious abt your advisor swap AU. Is it like Siffrin and Frisk get whisked away to each other's worlds in place of each other and both are missing from their original timeline, or do they just get copypasted in there? The mental image of the party going "oh no! where's Siffrin??? I thought he was just taking a nap... what do we do..." before suddenly being accosted by a friendly mysterious child dragging around a really distraught starperson is making me giggle

they're whisked away to each other's worlds! it's essentially the way you described it. frisk sees a person with a SAVE point for a head and gravitates towards them immediately. they'll fix things using the power of friendship and their very strong 8 year old grip.

[ef-1]

girlhood

[vaugarde]

okay so as a gen 5 stan who does adore the story in bw and bw2, and now that gen 5 has experienced both a vicious hatedom that wouldnt hear a single positive thing about the games, and now a super protective fandom that insists they were perfect and had zero flaws... can we admit now that the bw1 story at least was. a little mid.

[museumgiftshoperaser]

ok ok so... AU where Gareth is Steve’s younger brother??

Because Steve has ‘only child’ written all over him, but I think it would be fascinating if he had a sibling, especially a younger one.  Gareth is the black sheep of the family, likes the wrong sort of music, hangs out with the weird kids, plays that game all the news stations are saying is satanic. He’s three years younger than Steve, just a bit too much for them to ever be close, but really it’s their parents who drive a wedge between them. Steve’s their golden child. Good at sports, dating that Wheeler girl their parents love. He’s the poster boy for the all american teenager. In the eyes of their parents, Steve can do no wrong. Gareth stays out after his curfew? Grounded for two weeks. Steve throws a party when his parents are gone? Just don’t do it again, okay?  Needless to say the Harrington boys don’t really get along. Gareth is pissed that Steve gets away with everything. That their parents seem to actually like him, parade him around in front of their friends, keep his sports throphies on a shelf in the living room. When Gareth won a contest in middle school for a short story he wrote his parents didn’t even bat an eye. He keeps the little plaque he got for it in the bottom of his sock drawer, embarrased that he even cares. Within the walls of their house, Gareth doesn’t even get to be himself without feeling judged.  Steve on the other hand can’t help but envy his little brother. He’d never mention it of course, if anyone asks he can’t stand the little twerp. But it’s hard to miss that Gareth actually knows who he is. He has an opinion for himself and doesn’t seem to care how their parents feel about that. Steve can barely pick a shirt without worrying if their mother would approve. Gareth has friends who clearly care about him, a group of self proclaimed freaks who all clearly hate Steve. He has hobbies he actually likes and ideals he cares about.  So yeah... Steve’s kinda jealous sometimes.  Especially after Nancy breaks his heart. When he doesn’t get into college and his parents approval runs dry. When he can’t make it through a family dinner without questions about whatever happened to his potential. All the years of trying to impress their parents weren’t even worth it. And now the little brats he babysits have started high school and they won’t shut up about how cool his little brother is.

When both Steve’s status and his mental health start to slip, Gareth can’t help but feel a little bit bad. People don’t respect his older brother the way they used to and their parents no longer give a fuck about either of them. Good thing Gareth has years worth of experience being an outcast and a friend group that’s more than a little curious to find out whatever happened to the King of Hawkins High...

[puppyeared]

i think the reason why im so drawn to spirit tracks and pkmn scarvi is that having the legendary/princess as a companion rather than a goal that marks the games completion makes me feel satisfied the way i would after helping a friend

my brother always teases me about how I still havent finished botw after almost 7 years bc "id rather be out picking flowers" which i wont say is untrue. and yes i know Zeldas been holding off ganon for 100 years, yes i can get some sort of idea what her relationship with link was like by recalling memories and going through her diary. ive always loved botw for its unique storytelling and setting which makes it stand out, because it lets you get to know who you're saving.

but because theyre memories, it only works if theres something for the player to investigate that already happened. its retroactive (but effective nonetheless)

on the other hand, spirit tracks does something similar but instead of having the player try to piece together memories and interpret them as a spectator, you actually have an opportunity to get to know zelda yourself by talking to her and working together. besides making it a gameplay mechanic, giving the player control over how they interact with zelda makes it so much more personable.

and I find that making the goal feel personal instead of an obligation gives me more of a reason to work towards it. I know what kind of person botw zelda was but as the player, shes still very much a stranger to me. but spirit tracks zelda? thats my friend!!!! she invited me to go to the beach after we get her body back!!! i dont want to whip her to make her move faster thats mean :(

you know how hostage negotiators are trained to introduce themselves and get to know the person theyre negotiating with because its harder to hurt someone when you know what their favorite food is? its kinda like that, because it feels like im helping a friend than being told or led to do smth

and although i havent played scarvi myself, i feel an attachment to koraidon and miraidon even just watching playthrough clips because its like!! thats my weird scaly dog!! it loves sandwiches and we're friends!!! you know!!!!!!

[alagaisia]

Hey if you’re still enjoying and engaging with Harry Potter in any capacity you can unfollow me 😊 please and thank you

Like. I get it. I was super into it as a kid too. I did not have the social context to pick up on the antisemitism or transphobia or sexism or fatphobia or bioessentialism or racism or anything else. I also picked up on surface-level language of Fighting Back Against Evil and ascribed my own values onto what that meant and thought we were all on the same page. I remember when the original kids who grew up with the books started becoming adult fans and picking up on the (blatant!) antisemitism and everybody was still mostly willing to give JKR the benefit of the doubt on it. (“She was writing kids books!” They said. “She didn’t know she was penning a global phenomenon! She picked a common literary trend in European fairy tales (antisemitic caricature) and didn’t examine it closely. It’s a mistake anyone could make,” we said. “She would probably do things differently now. After all, she word-of-god confirmed the vaguest hints she dropped that Dumbledore might be gay,” we said.) There was actually a span of several years where biases inherent in the actual real content of the Harry Potter series were coming to light and even the people pointing them out still seemed mostly to think it was an unfortunate accident.

That time has passed. Years ago! We are long past the first months of “maybe she doesn’t realize this seemingly-feminist tweet she liked was made by a noted TERF” and then “how could she not realize that these many veiled TERF-y things she’s retweeted have implications for the many queer fans of her work” and finally “oh wow okay JKR just dropped an entire transphobic manifesto on twitter. I guess the transphobia was the point.”

Yeah, there were a few months after that where people were still processing and still working through how they felt about Harry Potter and all of its flaws with the context of the now open transphobia of the creator. I was there for that. Remember how I was one of the kids who built it up into something noble and worthwhile based on my own beliefs about what messages it was probably trying to convey? Turns out it wasn’t trying to say any of those things, and when you take the time to examine all of the terrible shit that made its way into the text whether JKR intended it to be there or not, the whole series falls apart. It’s weird to discover that there’s a room in your house that’s rotten to the core, but eventually you figure out you can’t live like that, still going in there and holding your nose and pretending it’s still the same room you thought it was when the termites were only inside of the walls and hadn’t yet started chewing their way through the furniture. Because what’s going to happen is that they are going to infest the rest of your house. If you decide you can ignore transphobia and antisemitism and everything else just because you liked the color of the wallpaper, the rest of your principles are going to crumble too. You get rid of that fucking room. You put those books on a high shelf in the back of your closet behind other outgrown clothes and interests and you move the fuck on.

JKR uses the money made from her transphobic antisemitic children’s books to actively funding hate groups and to lobby for legislation that will and has actually affected the actual lives of trans people in an entire country. We are past the point of grieving something you were wrong about in childhood. Kids are wrong about a lot of stuff. You grow up and you learn new information and you change your behaviors based on it. You have to choose. It is transphobic to pretend there is not transphobia where there is. It is transphobic to support the work of someone who is using those funds to take rights from trans people with every fucking dollar. It is hateful to continue to engage positively with a story that at its very core is rooted in hate and bigotry and prejudice. You can choose to do all of those things but you cannot claim ignorance of them and you cannot choose those things and still pretend that choosing them upholds the values we convinced ourselves that Harry Potter stood for over a decade ago as uninformed children. You cannot choose to do those things and pretend to still support your trans and queer and Jewish neighbors. I do not want you in my neighborhood. Leave.

[lethal-effect]

Never thought I’d be feeling this defensive over Buddy Dawn but here we are