#also?? This is a squad I would die for

[blaithnne]

Why is no one talking about my BABY?? My ANGEL? MY AUTISM CREATURE??

[timethehobo]

Scribbled him yesterday before I got too sick.

[violentdelightshavevioletends]

“You guys act like my sense of humor somehow lessens my ability to show up for our squad.”

— Ridoc was so raw & real for this quote.

[ladyaster]

After Isa's redemption in KH3, I'll never find it not funny as a huge fan of FFVIII that the fanon consensus is that the new "nemesis" of the Seasalt Trio or at least Roxas and Xion is Seifer.

I dunno how much of the KH fandom has played FFVIII, and in-universe it makes sense given Seifer is the "neighborhood bully" of Twilight Town. However, given what VIII players know about him, it's hilarious and cathartic to see these two kids either bonk him with copied claymores in response to him trying to intimidate them into giving him their ice cream money, curbstomp him at Struggle right after calling them "lamers" or "chicken wusses", or accidentally drop half-eaten popsicles on his face when, in his universe of origin, Seifer was a major war criminal who, among other things, dropped all sorts of horrible endgame monsters including actual malboros onto a hugely populated city (which like any VIII fan can tell you, malboros are already nope on a stick in general, but in VIII in particular they're excessively brutal).

Roxas and Xion are just delivering Seifer some belated karma from 1999 is all and I'm loving every second of it.

[maxpaulll]

I beat Pokemon Sword after 4 fucking years so here's what my champion league card would look like if I had it my way >:[

[catcatb0y]

Old man yells at cloud moment, but I am exhausted by those "Being a writer/liking a character is wanting to see them in a fit of of graphic despair-" because you know to a degree I GET it and I've BEEN there, but I am actually Just tired of angst. It feels like the two genres of fanfiction overwhelmingly are either smut or angst. If fandom isn't sexual, it's catty, if it's not catty, it's sexual, and if you're really unlucky it's both in the good old circa 2010 BL Doujinshi circle "No means yes actually."

Me and my favorite characters are already going through enough as is, only for their front row of cheerleaders to be cheering for their imminent demise, actually.

Like. Being fr. It's fiction. These are fake little guys. Them sobbing in a pool of their own blood literally doesn't hurt anyone. But it does hurt ME, because my little guy is sad and now I am sad. Is there no one? No one who wishes to make life better for these fictional creatures? No writer who takes joy in making their characters happy? No one who wants mine silly little guy to smile as I do??? (I have obviously divolved into drama)

In short: I wish we were able to block specific genres of post without needing keywords like come on, it's literally gotten to the point where I've just started blocking anyone who says 'being a writer is wanting to see your favorite character suffer' because no actually I want to see them get a good night's rest for once. I want to see them happy. I want to see them experiencing warmth and bliss they weren't even sure existed. I want them covered in the blood of their enemies and reviling in their now broken chains. I want them free. Thriving. Committing acts of violence that make them feel like life is worth living.

I already go for the traumatized characters right off the bat, I DON'T want to see them WORSE, I want them to experience comfort for the first time like a top heavy newborn kitten being pet for the first time. Screaming and hissing but warm and safe.

Being real for a moment, I obviously can't stop people from posting or reblogging this genre of posts, NOR WOULD I WANT TO. I'm glad they're having fun, BUT I wish I could blacklist this genre of post.

[zannies-joestar-hut]

i really think Acca might be a twist unvillain

[technikki]

love love love the way clothing in tpn is used as a symbol of oppression with the plain pure-white gendered dress code at the farms but also as a symbol of rebellion and liberation post-escape with the bunker uniforms that, while still plain on their own are no longer subject to a rigid dress code and can be modified by the kids however they please, such as gillian altering the longer skirts into short pleated ones to suit hers and other girls' styles and covering hers and the younger kids' shirts in patches and even smaller things that set kids apart like don's short sleeves and nat keeping his shirt tucked in etc etc.

clothing as a rebellion against gender roles where the girls are always shown wearing skirts at gracefield even in the middle of winter, and how they're all dressed exactly the same as the boys during the escape. many of the girls choosing to wear skirts with the bunker uniforms but wearing pants in situations where its more practical or comfortable to do so. emma, the protagonist, never wearing a skirt after the escape. paula, violet, and barbara never being seen in a skirt at all. violet's entire character being a rejection of gender roles.

colored clothing as a form of rebellion in only seeing monocrome button-up uniforms when the kids are on the run and then getting to goldy pond, the first arc where they fight back against the demons head-on, and everyone is wearing unique, brightly colored outfits. how ray specifically is one of the people who have suffered the farm’s oppression the longest due to knowing the farm’s secret from the beginning, and how post timeskip he’s always seen with a blue scarf that sets his outfit apart from all the other black and white uniforms. seeing bright unique clothing again with the lambda squad while they go around blowing up farms and liberating kids.

clothing as a symbol of personal growth with norman wearing a suit during his minerva meltdown because he has taken on the responsibility of protecting and saving every cattle child despite the fact that he himself is only a child, and how afterward he is shown matching with emma, ray, don, and gilda again. main story ray wearing bright white because thats all he was able to wear vs post-canon ray who is always shown wearing black/dark colors because those are the colors that HE likes. i love clothes in tpn

[shiniestcrow]

I kinda have lost all motivation for drawing digitally... I don't really know why. Objectively, it's easier to make stuff look decent but it's, at least at the moment, not fun anymore. So. Paper it is lol

[couldbebetterforsure]

BRUH…………

Sou’s acting in that last part of Mary Jane 👁️👄👁️

Also I love the Quartz crew so much! This sweet and funny and absolutely precious gang, they are all angels and I love their relationships with each other so much and and and and AAAAAAAAHHHH!!!! I love you Quartz!!!!!!! (Jury’s still out on you for the moment Otori…)

[felikatze]

This is exactly why I feel like (without spoiling) Engage is just a weird sequel to Awakening in terms of ideas. I can really tell they noticed the problems in the other stuff and regardless of how people feel about it going BACK to examine FEA with Engage's lens is actually really useful bc it gives us a bit of a hint at what they WANTED to do. gotta remember FEA was almost the last FE game *ever* so i dont doubt they did all they could at the *time*.

good for them i haven't played engage :thumbsup:

I've osmosed some of the plot via memes and such so i know about alear's whole fell dragon situation and also that the general consensus of engage's story is "very deeply silly but at least half of it is good" which matches the consensus on awakening how "the midgame is lame but early and late are cool."

ngl despite the complaints abt awakening i've voiced i do find the emotional core of it deeply compelling. i had a blast when i played it. yeah, the midgame dragged because say'ri was suddenly the protagonist, but elsewhere i found the plot engaging (pun not intended) and brisk. brisk here is a compliment- things were always moving and never dragged.

the status of the maybe last game is a biiig influence on the structure. i'd argue that's why the midgame valm arc even exists. everything else is already a fe1 reference, so they threw in fe2 where they could. whenever i get around to actually playing any version of fe1 i can probably offer more comprehensive thoughts on this, but i feel awakening works well as a deconstruction of those early FE titles. or at the very least, it tries to be.

there's of course how the big bad dragon is actually the protagonist's best friend, instead of just some shadowy emperor. and in the valm arc, you have walhart claiming the legacy of alm as conqueror, which reframes alm in fe2, because yeah, he did take over the entire continent. (actually, comparing how awakening frames alm vs how echoes frames alm is super fascinating. there's such a drastic shift in interpretation of alm's character between the games and i love it. it's exactly the type of thing that would get twisted in history.)

if awakening were made as the FE franchise stands now- entering the mainstream thanks to three houses' popularity and with the eternal cash cow of heroes, it would prolly be drastically different.

but that's true for any game. everything is a product of its circumstances. that's why and how remakes exist and differ, after all.

[violentdelightshavevioletends]

On Chapter 56 of OS… I have so many thoughts theories questions and concerns…

[officialzevran]

i'll say it, fine! caterina dellamorte they could never make me hate you

[curiositypolling]

*this is just about having medical needs that would have meant death without modern medicine, so no ‘I’d probably die from not being able to distinguish the blur as a lion’ we have a healthy caveman squad who cares for each other, we just also dont have, yknow, penicilin. etcetera.

pls reblog for sample size etc

follow for more occasional useless polls :)

[dearsnow]

12:29 AM

- your normally sober husband comes home drunk out of his mind after a party, and you can’t say that he’s any less sweet. (robert “bob” floyd x wife!reader, fluff, honestly one of the cutest things i’ve ever written, ⚠️ obviously heavy themes of alcohol and being drunk, sexual innuendos but nothing graphic)

word count: 1,502

a/n - i haven’t written a fic with a timestamp as the title in… (checks old blog) over three years?!? in any case, i hope you guys like drunk!bobby as much as i do <3 he’s definitely an emotional/clingy drunk imo.

It’s not often that your husband stays out late, and it’s not often that he doesn’t text you while he’s out, but you trust him. He’s not the type to get blackout drunk or come home stumbling through the doorframe. Robert Floyd is a clearheaded and strong man.

Well, he looks neither right now, as he’s supported by Jake and Javy’s arms, glasses slipping off the bridge of his nose and a dopey smile brightening his face. Jake looks at you apologetically— as apologetic as he can get for a situation that’s likely his fault. “Sorry, hun.” He huffs, shifting around Bob’s weight. “There were a few too many fruity drinks ordered, and I guess he didn’t realize they were full of alcohol.”

“You guess?” You ask, rubbing the space between your eyebrows with your fingers. The two more sober men lead Bob into your bedroom, half-dragging him. They lay him down on your shared bed with a softened thump that has him groaning on top of the sheets. “I can’t believe you guys.”

Bob went out with the rest of the squad for some coworker’s promotion celebration, and he promised to come home perfectly sober, as always. He doesn’t even need to promise, if you’re being honest, because that’s just how he is; the most levelheaded person in the room. He would stay until it was socially acceptable for an acquaintance to leave, then he would head home and help you cook dinner to your favorite old school tunes. You never expected to see him shitfaced at 12:29 AM.

Javy shakes his head as he steps around you, taking Jake for a clean escape. “We tried to warn him. I hope he feels better in the morning, but until then, we’re gonna have to leave him with you.”

You sigh, eyebrows just as pinched as they were before. For the first time ever, you’re scared that Bob is going to die in his sleep, and the thought frustrates you to no end. “Thanks. It’s so great that he’s drunk out of his mind, but I have to give you credit for getting him here in one piece.” Your tone is sarcastic enough to get the two men cringing in shame, but you also know that without them, he might still be at that party.

Jake pats you on the shoulder. “Good luck, soldier. You’ll need it.”

With that, Javy and Jake walk out of your bedroom, past your living room, and out of your house like they couldn’t wait to leave. As you hear them close the door, you look down at your husband.

He’s still conscious, thankfully. His eyes are slightly unfocused, he’s blushing like a madman, and he’s groaning lightly, but he’s not completely gone yet. You brush the damp hair away from his forehead and he whines just a bit.

“Wife.”

You quirk your eyebrow in confusion. “Yes?”

“I… have a wife. Y’ can’t touch me like that.” He mumbles. It feels like he’s looking past you. Despite everything, you feel like laughing.

You adjust his glasses on his face and lean over him a little more, fully in his field of vision. “I am your wife.”

His eyes widen like he’s seeing you for the first time, and he smiles crookedly. He tries to sit up, but only manages to prop himself up on one arm as he takes in the sight of your face. “S’ pretty. You’re really my wife? My girl?” In combination with the slurred words of someone down in the cups, the slight southern accent he took so much time to push away is coming back as he speaks to you.

“Yes.” You confirm, kissing him on the cheek. He somehow smiles even wider and reaches out to touch the apples of your cheeks.

“Love you. I missed you.” He mumbles. “Spent that whole party wonderin’ when I could see you again.” He flops back down onto the springy mattress, throwing his arms up. He moves with the precision of a toddler, his limbs seemingly coated in lead. He almost smacks the glasses off his face as he motions to you with grabby hands.

“I missed you too, honey. Can we get you into your pajamas? I’m sure you don’t want to sleep in jeans and a polo.” As you ask that question, his fingers are already attempting to pull the shirt off of his body. It doesn’t work very well, considering he’s still laying down, but you appreciate the effort. “Sit up, my love.”

He sits up, winking at you heavily. It’s more like a slow blink with how long it takes him to do it. “Can’t wait to get me naked?”

A laugh escapes your mouth, and you smother the rest of your giggles with the heel of your palm as you gaze at his slightly crestfallen face. He’s funny when drunk, apparently, even when he isn’t trying to be. It’s like seeing him completely unhinged with none of his usual, careful filters. “Sure. You need to be in some state of undress to get your pajamas on, anyways.”

His face falls into a slight pout as you help him unbutton the top of his polo and slide it up his chest. He seems to notice how your hands hesitate when meeting the warm, taut skin of his abs, and the pout fades instantly. “Like it?”

“I always do.” You hum. He does have a great body, one that you’ve found to be extraordinarily hot. Strong arms, tight muscles, and yet a gentleness in the way his hands hold yours. Right now, though, it’s a bit of a problem as you’re attempting to get his jeans off. He’s still sitting, and you think you could lift weights for ten years and not be able to pull them out from under him. “Can you stand, Bobby?”

“Gladly.” He sings. You help him stand, supporting a bit of his weight. He seems to find a little bit of his footing as his other arm presses into the wall, allowing the both of you to shimmy his pants down his legs and kick them to some unknown corner of the room.

You gather his neatly folded pajamas, a soft shirt and some plaid flannel pants, and help him put them on. Luckily for you, he’s been revitalized by your touch and is a little more helpful now. He’s still moving awkwardly and shifting around like he’s constantly trying to get his balance straightened out, but it’s better than nothing. It would be hell to get him to do anything other than dress, though, so you settle for just getting him in bed. His dental hygiene routine will have to wait.

You lay him back down after he’s dressed and pull the blankets up to his chin, kissing his forehead gently and tucking his glasses in your dresser drawer. You’re already ready for the night (the perks of thinking he would come home three hours ago), so you slip in bed next to him. He immediately pulls you into his arms, his body comfortingly warm. He’s always run just a little hot, which is amazing on cooler nights like this.

He sighs contentedly before moving to stare directly into your eyes. “Y’know,” he starts, “I can’t sleep without your arms ‘round me, and your legs ‘round me, and you breathing all sweet on my neck. ‘M up all night when I’m deployed, at first anyways. My carrier roommates hate it.”

You shift just enough as to where your body is clutching on to him as tight as possible, and he hums in relief. It’s like the little tension that he was holding dissipated entirely. “I’m sorry, baby. That must be hard.” You soothe.

“Payback gave me his pillow once so I could wrap it in my arms, but it didn’t help. He threatened to ‘come up there n’ cuddle me himself’ if I didn’t stop moving.” He scrunches his eyes closed at the memory. You do your best to suppress another bout of laughter, but he makes it even harder when he shivers like he isn’t covered in three layers of blankets and you.

“Did he ever follow through?” You ask, pressing your lips together to stop from smiling. Bob shakes his head.

“Thank god he didn’t.” He utters. You turn to shove your face into your pillow to muffle your expressions. He just keeps his eyes closed, completely unaware of the fact that you’re losing it next to him.

When you finally come up for air, he is drifting in and out of sleep. “Love ya. G’night.” He whispers. It’s so soft that you almost start laughing again.

“Good night, Bobby. Love you too.” You say, kissing his cheek. You click off the lamp on your bedside table and snuggle deeper into his grasp.

He’s going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning. At least he’ll have his wife, breakfast in bed, and an aspirin to take care of him.

Taglist: @seitmai

[yapileon]

@TacklerCulers: The Chaotic Teen Serie pt. 1

fcb femení x chaoticteen!reader (first fic, be gentle with me pls i'm embarassed, also, i have no idea why i wrote that.)

17yo La Masia defender gets promoted to the first team. Will you be able to keep your fcb femení fan account hidden while slowly making your place in the team with your idols?

While you had the tendency to be known as a cheeky chaotic teen, you currently felt anxious and shaky. You had spent three years working you ass off to be recognized in the La Masia training academy, it had paid off, since you were on the way to your first training with the senior team.

You're walking to the stadium when you feel your phone buzzing in your back pocket. You picked it up, smiling at the Mapi León wallpaper you had chosen weeks ago. You knew the pings had something to do with the meme you posted on your fan account, @TacklerCulers this morning.

tacklerculers

liked by 2,486 others

tacklersculers: Ona and The Flash have never been witnessed at the same place at the same time, just saying.

—

Like you thought, the meme was doing well, attracting multiples thousands likes from other woso fans. You couldn't help but giggle at the fact that today, you'd get to meet all of the barça squad. No, it was more than that, today, you'd get to become their teammates.

You were so excited when you had made it on the training pitch, you were the first aside from some of the training staff that you had greeted. You picked up a ball and started juggling, trying to get yourself in the flow. Except this is when you had spotted them walking to you.

Alexia, the captain of the best team in the world, and Mapi Leon, the arm-tape icon —and arguably your favorite player of all time—smiling brightly at you. You were so focused on them that you kicked the ball straight to your shin. Smooth.

"Doing good, rookie?" The defender had asked you with an amused look. Though her smile faded away when Alexia elbowed her in the ribs, frowning.

The sound you had made to answer was something between a hurried yes and a cat screeching. So you nodded profusely, not trusting your voice to not betray you again.

"Don't listen to her cariño," the blond had said softly, her hand on your shoulder, and at that moment you swore you could die, your life was complete.

"Big day today, sí?" the capitain added, dragging you toward the group of players who had started arriving.

You hoped you'd be able to find you voice again soon, otherwise today would only be a long and embarrassing day.

You waved to some of the players, high fiving Patri who seemed very happy to see a fellow La Masia made kid. You couldn't help but be star struck, looking around you you saw Irene Paredes. Wall of the team. And Ingrid Engen? Technically midfield goddess but honorary defender in your books. Really what would have the team done last season without her? You couldn't help but chuckle a bit seeing Ona, remember your meme from this morning, though you tried (and failed) to hide your laugh as a cough.

But then training started, and you were definitely better at football than introducing yourself, so you gave your all. You had warmed up with Ingrid, not like Mapi didn't try to get to you before but the Norwegian had dragged you with her, leaving the Spaniard pouting. You were definitely glad for Ingrid right now, you were sure if you had had to play with your idol right away, you would have somehow tripped on your own feet.

After the warm up, the real work started. You had been doing well, holding your own as much as you could against them, trying to time your tackles well, finding your grooves in your passes. You were playing a five-a-side when the incident happened. At some point, you had tried to nutmeg Alexia on a spur of the moment thing, and had blushed furiously when you had inevitably failed —leaving only Gemma to defend the goal. Which in itself was embarrassing enough, but you had recovered quickly, decided on fixing things, you had ran for your life, and somehow managed to kick the ball away from the goal line when Alexia took her shot.

Problem?

It has landed straight on Ingrid's back, hitting her at full strength.

Ingrid stumbled forward, gasping, and Mapi who was right next to her burst out laughing. You ran to them, mortified, half screaming a busted apology.

"Already trying to get rid of me?" The dark haired woman said, chuckling while rubbing her back.

You screamed, trying to defend yourself while slightly panicking. "What?! No. Ingrid I'm so sorry, it's the ball, I didn't-" you stopped yoursel.

It's the ball? Seriously?

Ingrid raised an eyebrow at you while her girlfriend was practically rolling on the grass from laughing too much.

"I think the ball did exactly what you wanted, little devil." the Norwegian had said smirking, leaving you audibly gasping.

"I- What?" You stumbled on your words "I'm an angel I would never willingly hurt another defender!" you added, gesturing.

Mapi, who was still holding onto her belly from how much she was laughing interrupted, "An Angel? You just tried to murder Ingrid with a football.”

You whined your disagreement, unaware that most of the team had stopped their training to watch you three arguing on the sideline, most with a smile on their lips. You heard Pina laughing in the background, saying something along the lines of you perfectly fitting in already. Alexia had made her way to you. Her voice surprised you when she spoke teasingly, "Would that mean that you'd willingly hurt someone who's not a defender?" You could see on the blonde faces that it was meant as a joke. You watched, half amused half desperate, as the three women burst out laughing at the face you made.

Thankfully for you, the Norwegian did not seem to hold a grudge for the way you had attacked her with the football, leaving the training session to continue.

It was the end of the day and you were making your way to the locker room when Mapi had ran to you. She ruffled your hair, putting her arm around your shoulder when she was satisfied, "You did good today kid, looks like you might have a nice future ahead of you."

Your mouth fell open, before you started scrambling to say thank you. You just couldn't believe Mapi of all people was the one to compliment you. All the team had welcomed you with open arms, pulling you in conversation, praising you when you did well, giving you tips when you were struggling. You always knew they were good people, but witnessing it first hand was leaving you a bit emotional.

You guessed your starstruck eyes were obvious when Frido, who was passing you to sit at her locker said, "Well, no need to ask who your favourite player is, uh?" You felt your body shrink in your seat and went straight back to blushing as the team giggled. After the first moment of embarrassment, you laughed with them.

You had behave fairly well, until you were presented with the perfect opportunity by Irene, feeling like the team had a good vibe, you decided to show a bit of mischief.

"So," Irene asked curiously, "what made you decide to be a defender?"

You froze for a second, your filter failing you, before smirking. "Because defenders are the hottest."

You saw Mapi nearly choke on her water while the whole team burst out laughing. And suddenly you felt very proud of yourself. You laughed with them while kicking away your cleats.

The tattooed Spaniard had recovered from her cough, tears in her eyes, "You're a cheeky thing, aren't you?"

You smiled, wiggling your eyebrows, "I mean… am I wrong?"

"No lies detected," Ingrid chimed in with a wink, making everyone laugh harder.

You leaned back into your locker, not believing how well you were going along with the team. That's when you saw Aitana giggling and grabbing Ona by the sleeve. "Look! Someone edited you on a The Flash meme!"

Uh oh.

pt. 2