#but it honestly doesn't feel like all of this was so long ago???

[sourco0kie]

https://www.tumblr.com/sourco0kie/775427187568525312/self-aware-au?source=share

Hey loved this and found it so interesting...and got an idea for a whole self aware au...possibly could be a series if you find it fun enough to write...already love what you did with this first writing and defiantly wanna see it in action and your take on this:

Self aware au...cowardly y/n. Just imagine a y/n who gets sucked into the game and is so nervous about the story because of the fights, rivalries, and etc...like they know the story of cookie run so they are TERRIFIED at first when they first enter the world...maybe nervous at first when the cookies become self aware but scared when actually in the world as themselves but a cookie form...just a powerless cookie!

Cue them getting dragged through story, thinking they are gonna die...but here is twist, especially because of this writing I really liked: the cookies adore them! So every time they think they are about to die or get caught in the crossfire? Nope, they are perfectly safe and loved! Can't wait to see all the hilarious senarios of y/n panicking and thinking 'this isn't gonna end well for me' only to be immediately proven wrong via y/n being protected, comforted, or whatever you want lol!

AAAA I LOVE THIS IDEA!

Ideas are exploding in my head!

Self Aware Au

W/cowardly!Reader

You don't know how but you have been sucked into the game. At first you just wanna relax on the couch then suddenly, poof, you're in the game.

The first to meet you was the team. They saved you from a couple of cake hounds and cake wolves. You introduce yourself to them and oh what a wrong move.

Gingerbrave was instantly all over you, fawning on about you and finally excited to meet you. Both Pure Vanilla Cookie and Wizard Cookie were questioning how you got here.

That aside, Gingerbrave insists on having you travel with them. At first you don't agree, saying you rather not, already knowing what will happen next with all the spoiler episodes you watched. Wizard Cookie agrees with you until Gingerbrave literally begged for you to come.

Geez just like how you begged for new cookies to come home in your gacha.

You gave in and went with their adventure, honestly all the time traveling you felt bad. Not having the skill to do.. anything. They would reassure you every time, "It's okay.. [Name] Cookie. Just getting to know you along the way was a gift."

Gift? Okay Pure Vanilla..

Finally all of you arrived at the place, Beast-Yeast. Being there somehow gives you the chills, the crawling feelings of being watched.

You all met Elder Faerie Cookie. Soon White Lily Cookie. You both introduce yourself, luckily (or unluckily which ever you wanna see it) she doesn't seem to recognize you from outside the screen.

It's all great, until you meet him. Oh how the presence just makes you wanna coward back and run. Hide away from everything. Not to mention you can't do anything. And he can do anything he wants.

"Oh. I see I have quite an audience here! I am SO terribly sorry to have kept you waiting!!"

You froze, you can't move even as your mind screams at you to run. It wasn't scary when you passed this episode.. why is it now? Why do you feel fear now? Is it because you couldn't do anything, like closing the game?

"But now... The wait is over!"

Move your body, run! Anything!

"Your favorite trickster is here!

The sharp stares of his eyes, lands directly at you. Your body shakes. You know what will happen! You know what's next! But why are you still afraid? You expected this long ago!..

Oh what some silly thoughts!

Gingerbrave put a stance between you and the beast. He seems as scared as you are but.. he's determined enough to protect you. They all did.

The faerie kingdom fell into deceit, playing lies and truth like a game for fun. Shadow Milk Cookie returns once in a while to tell the stories Elder Faerie Cookie told them. But different.

It goes like you expected so you wouldn't fall for his lies easily. In one of the plays he described you. The divine, watching over them, Oh they were saddened when the five original power holders fell and sealed away.

No you were not.

At the end you watched as the team defeated the trickster. After he tried to swoop you away from them.

You watched both Pure Vanilla Cookie and White Lily Cookie exchange. Now you don't know where to go. You're lost without a home or anything. But they, accept you into The team with open arms. You have no choice either way, as you follow them to the next adventure.

[lsunstreakerl]

more scrapbook paper max. be gentle with him please, he doesn't get enough hugs.

"Max. Maaaaaaax."

Someone is nudging their toe into Max's thigh.

He cracks an eye open, disoriented. There's something thudding against the warm wall behind his back, and he's sitting on cool tile. The room has a greenish hue.

"You better not be dead, I need to interview you for my assignment."

He's in the laundry room. Why is he in the laundry room?

"-We're supposed to interview an upperclassman and ask about their school life balance, and the internship work, and the battleworks stuff-"

Max is in the laundry room because his suit was stained. His suit was stained because he bled all over it. He bled all over it...?

"-So I was like, yeah, I'll just ask Max, that'll be fine. And then I spent half my morning trying to track you down, and everyone said you skipped class, which like- fair, but then you weren't upstairs in our dorm- we should really get a better lock on that door dude-"

Right. Big lizard thing. Mean big lizard thing. Casual evening assignment for him and Daniel that very rapidly turned not casual. Max is forgetting something.

"-And I have been looking everywhere. And now we're here, and I'm pretty sure you might be dead? Also I don't think your right side was purple last time I saw you. Unless it was, in which case I'm very sorry if I've offended you. But it doesn't look natural, cause like- it's just your arm and also your chest a little bit- what is your workout routine- so I'm thinking it's maybe bad."

Oh right. Poisonous big lizard thing.

Max blinks, staring up at Liam.

"Oh! You're not dead!"

Surely Max was not this stupid as a freshman.

"Obviously."

Liam looks from Max's face to his arm.

"...do you need the nurse?"

Max also looks down at his arm. It's definitely not supposed to be that color. He's not sure he could move it if he wanted to.

"Yup."

------

"Are we lost?"

Max feels his teeth grinding, squinting as he looks across the landscape in front of him. They're supposed to have a senior with them, but Kyvat had disappeared almost half an hour ago when he heard a noise- which breaks basically the first rule any of them are taught for Fog trips, to never go alone- and now Max is stuck with a freshman clinging to him.

"No."

He's lying. Sort of.

Max has made a few solo Fog trips, but that's because he's perfectly content to go apeshit and destroy everything around him to find a way out- it's how Daniel had met him the first time, before Max got enrolled.

He can't exactly do that with Bearman at his back though- the kid would die. Max can feel him stepping closer, practically pasted alongside Max's back, even though he's nearly as tall as Max is by now.

It's embarrassing, honestly. Max has two years on him- the least Bearman can do is let Max catch up to Daniel before he outgrows them both.

He might be able to try-

"Ollie."

The kid perks up behind him.

"Yeah?"

Max chews at his bottom lip for a moment. He's never tried this before- a tuned down version of what he's done in the past. He's not sure if it might still hurt Bearman, depending on how long they do it. He's not sure if they're going to get Kyvat back.

But they don't all need to die out here.

"Keep holding onto me. I'm going to try and feel a way out- I need you to tell me if you think there's a threat."

"Okay."

Credit where it's due, Ollie is brave. They weren't even supposed to go into the Fog today, not with a freshman- but things had gotten messy up top, and it had been safer to drop into the complete unknown without supplies rather than stay.

Which kind of sums up the year Max has been having.

That it's only January is irrelevant.

He closes his eyes, tries to carefully build up the charge in the area around him, feeling out for where it stops.

It's much easier to just have a full spark and follow that path, but again- tiny freshman. Max does not want to have to explain to the board why he's brought back a barbecued Bearman.

And Ollie's dorm mates would be sad.

Also, begrudgingly, Max kind of likes Bearman.

He sets off tiny little sparks, soft snaps of electricity, and then he's walking.

The Fog is difficult because it's not real. It causes hallucinations, makes you question what you see, what you hear. It obscures your sight, leads you wandering in circles until you die. Or until one of its natural predators comes to eat you.

Max is not interested in either of those things happening today, so he keeps walking, pulling Bearman behind him as he keeps setting off small snaps, carving out his own path.

He's not trying to get to a specific outlet- there's no way, not with the tiny amount of charge he's generating- just needs to get to one.

"Max-"

Oliver sounds nervous, and Max opens his eyes. There's nothing around them.

"You're hallucinating."

"Okay."

The benefit to traveling in groups through Fog is that it can't show the same thing to two people at once- which is why traveling alone is borderline suicide.

Max isn't going to feel bad for Kyvat- it's his own fault.

He closes his eyes again, feels Bearman jolt softly next to him when he accidentally sets a charge too hard, shocking him.

He's not going to feel bad about that either- he's got empathy in limited amounts.

Otherwise Bearman is good about sticking close, doesn't complain about the numerous static shocks he must be experiencing.

Max can feel a headache building at the base of his skull- he's not used to using this much precision for this long. He's been working on it with Lambiase, but it's still difficult.

His fingertips have a slight tingle- they're not numb or charred the way they get when he's really pushing it, just an uncomfortable pinprick sensation.

One of his sparks flares at the edge of his senses- it's snapping in regular oxygen, not Fog.

He doesn't open his eyes, because they're not out yet, but he must be smirking, because Bearman sighs in relief.

"Please tell me you found it."

Max hums, keeps guiding them.

"Maybe."

He can feel it when they hit the cool air- Fog is dry and stale, constantly. He blinks his eyes open, and sure enough- they've just stepped out of a dilapidated doorway, into the middle of nowhere.

"How the fuck-"

Bearman is looking at him, and Max shrugs. He's not going to explain it- he'll sound like a maniac anyways, and he has enough of a reputation as is.

He leans forward and hits the emergency button on Bearman's suit, sending off signals back to the academy and their supervisors.

"Stay here."

Oliver's eyes widen, darting between Max and the doorway.

"You're not actually going to- mate."

Max frowns at him. He's not taking judgment from a freshman- Liam is bad enough, and they have to bunk together.

"Stay. Put."

Bearman swallows and nods, and Max turns back around and steps into the Fog.

Stupid senior.

[dapandapod]

Rough day

Hello there my dears! It's been a minute! This little thing was … literally written 5 minutes ago on discord, then slapped to Ao3 because there are like 7 minutes left of today and it's Valentines day, oh yeah, happy valentines! And I wanted it. So yeah, please enjoy! <3 On Ao3 here

It had been a rough day. As rough days usually go, it wasn't too bad, no mortal wounds to worry about, just a light stabbing and a bit of slicing.

It stills hurts like all seven hells. Not that Geralt would willingly admit that, but staggering back to camp with a knife in the thigh and a cut along his ribs, it just sucks.

Now with the knife placed elsewhere, some Swallow swallowed down, as Jaskier so elegantly put it, and a nice bandadge around his chest, Geralt is feeling somewhat better. The stabs and cuts will heal within a day or two, the bruising tends to fade away, but the ache likes to linger.

The fire is cracking merrily in the middle of their little camp, the little firepit jut big enough to fit a pot on top of it, but it's doing its best to lighten the mood. Jaskier is not.

There is a tilt to his mouth that Geralt doesn't like, something that isn't a smile.

He is still kneeling in front of Geralt, helping with the awkward reach of the bandages behind his back. It's a bit worrying that he isn't saying anything, and the way Jaskier is looking at him makes Geralt want to squirm. Witchers doesn't squirm, though, so he doesn't.

"What?" Geralt asks when the silence drags on too long.

"I was just thinking..." Jaskier trails off, and Geralt has to bite his tongue not to snark, it doesn't seem like the right time. So he waits, somewhat patiently.

He is not used being watched like this. Or rather, he is not used to Jaskier watching him like this. Like he is being studied, as if Jaskier is looking for something, and Geralt is suddenly strangely worried of lacking.

"Do you know how hard it is to stay behind?" Jaskier asks, rising to stand on his knees so their faces is at level. Something in Geralt's chest clenches and unclenches at the same time.

"Yes, you want to see."

"No. Well, yes, but no."

Instead of responding, how do you even respond to that, Geralt lifts his eyebrows at Jaskier, and the bard makes the strangest expression. Fond but sad, tilting his head in that very puppy like way that always makes Geralt give in to what ever nonsense Jaskier is pitching next.

There is still blood on Jaskier's hands when he lifts it, fingers just brushing Geralt's chin, hesitating to see if he will be rebuffed.

Geralt is too taken aback to push him away, yes, that is what this feeling is.

"The worst part is never knowing if this is the time you won't come back. Or how hurt you will be when you do."

Geralt frowns at that, as Jaskier's finger carefully brush upward another inch. Jaskier's eyes are on the movement, there is something wistful in it that makes Geralt ache in a new way entirely.

"I know it's a hazard of the job for you, but... for me? I'm scared."

Jaskier's other hand lands on Geralt's knee to support himself, the touch a warm comfort on his uninjured leg.

"The day you don't come back, I honestly don't know what to do."

Jaskier's wandering finger reaches Geralt's cheekbone, traces along the scar that travels up and through his eyebrow, and Geralt has to close his eyes to the sensation.

It's so gentle it's more of a tickle as it traces down his temple, where it's joined by Jaskier's thumb.

"And I know this is what I signed up for when I... When we started this," the way he says 'this' makes Geralt open his eyes and watch Jaskier, and just.. lean in to the touch, just a little. "but it doesn't make it any easier," Jaskier finishes.

On impulse, Geralt grabs the hand on his knees and brings it up to his face, resting it along his cheek.

"I never minded leaving before," Geralt admits quietly. "To have someone who cared outside their own safety if I came back. It helps."

Jaskier smiles, but it looks sad, and Geralt doesn't like it, not at all. He turns his head just enough to nuzzle into Jaskier's palm, his nose brushing against a pale wrist. He can smell his own blood on Jaskier, something that the bard never should have to deal with.

"Geralt," Jaskier says quietly, and their eyes meet. The air is cooling, with Jaskier blocking the firelight and his sweaty, torn tunic somewhere next to them, Geralt's skin prickles. In the tree line to the side he can hear Roach grazing, a soft rustle among the branches above.

Not another word is spoken aloud when Jaskier's fingers takes up the path anew, along Geralt's cheek, under his jaw, over the bridge of his nose.

For a moment, Jaskier's gaze flickers to Geralt's, before looking back down, to where his thumb finally rests on Geralt's chin, index finger finding the corner of his mouth.

If there was a tickling sensation before, it's nothing to what he feels now. It's like his entire focus is on that finger, how it hesitates before tracing the outline of Geralt's upper lip to his cupids bow and back.

Geralt can't help the sigh that escapes him, nor how he holds Jaskier's hand a bit tighter to his face. His breath catches on Jaskier's fingers, especially when they once more travel along his lips.

Geralt has never wanted to be kissed more in his entire life.

"Don't let me do anything stupid," Jaskier murmurs, pausing to trace a finger back and forth along the seam of Geralt's mouth.

The distance between them has shrunk without the witcher noticing, but it still feels too far.

With his free hand, Geralt reach between them and catching Jaskier's chin between his thumb and index finger, pulling him closer. Jaskier has just about time shift his hand before he is being guided into a kiss, soft and dry and lingering.

They pull back with a soft sound, lips reluctant to part, eyes still closed.

"Was this stupid?" Geralt asks in a murmur, rubbing little circles to the back of Jaskier's hand still pushed to his cheek.

"Immensely. How am I supposed to stop now?" Jaskier's thumb is resting in the corner of Geralt's mouth now, just a little in the way when the bard kisses him again.

"Hmm, maybe you shouldn't," Geralt says between kisses, then hums again when the bard is perssing closer and he finds himself reaching for Jaskier's hip, along his back, to hold him closer.

As rough days goes, this wasn't all too bad. Jaskier is soft and pliant in his arms, much more so than he expected of the stubborn bard. After a while they settle into their bedrolls, and Geralt's closing wound stings something fierce as he lies down.

Next to him, Jaskier has his bed roll just close enough for him to capture Geralt's hand. They fall asleep like that, hands twined together in a dance that hopefulle will last past morning.

No, for a rough day, this wasn't too bad at all.

[beef-brisket]

I never did the ask before so you’re my first one! 😆

Well I have this idea for this AU that I got from a webtoon I read a very long time ago but I can’t remember the name of it for the life of me. Well right after the battle where Adam dies he goes back to Eden but not to himself. But to the third wife of his past self AKA he the wife of EdenAdam. And instead of Lilith and Lucifer leave the garden again they bring Eve with them. So the Angels gone ahead and made Adam his third wife who’s FutureAdam but he a women name Ada or Adele whichever you wanna go with. Well Ada or Adele try’s to earn the trust of EdenAdam after Lilith, Lucifer, and Eve breaks his heart and trust. So earning his trust again going to be difficult but over time he earns it back. But Ada or Adele swears she protect EdenAdam and not let those three come near him again. But what Ada or Adele didn’t participate is past Adam falling for her and Lucifer become obsessed and want Ada or Adele to himself and Eve and Lilith becomes jealous. Maybe a ploy between Ada or Adele, EdenAdam, and Lucifer?

That’s all I got for now, sorry if it doesn’t make sense I had this idea I got inspire from a webtoon and I like the idea of Adam going back to his past self and preventing it but didn’t predict the outcome he suspects. 😆

Oh my god- I'm so happy I'm your first person you sent an ask to! I remember the first time I did it, I was slightly terrified 😅

But I honestly LOVE this so much!

It makes it hurt so much more that Ada/Adele knows how Adam is feeling. How completely broken and lonely the first man is. But at the same time, Adam is so scared of getting close to anyone again.

So, not only is Ada/Adele trying so hard to protect Adam, but she also understands him in ways that don't even make sense to him. But it sounds so right.

And Ada/Adele would defend Adam with her life, she'd yell at Lucifer and the first women whenever they got close, calling them words they've never heard before but they could easily feel the hatred in them.

Maybe this time, Ada/Adele and Adam would remain pure, follow gods plan, and multiply. But they only had a handful of children, Ada/Adele remembers how hard it was having so many the first time, and she doesn't want to ruin their peace by having so many.

Even once they go to Heaven, they remain inseparable. Adam stays a sweet, curious, caring guy, and Ada/Adele is larger than life, hilarious and more outgoing than Adam. But that doesn't put a wedge between them.

Seeing how in love the two still are, Lucifer is envious and has a huge amount of longing.

And, of course, the first women are extremely jealous. They could tell Lucifer loved them, but there always left like something was missing. Like he wasn't giving them his all. But, seeing Adam have someone who loves him completely? They hate it.

I love this so much! (If you can't tell 😝)

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

@fanofstuff01

@talesfromawannabewriter

[halforresterluvsford]

This was supposed to be posted on Valentine's Day but life happens and I fall asleep in the middle of writing, Oops. I honestly don't know how good this is, and if you see grammar mistakes no you didn't! Enjoy these sappy brosbands!

Stan breathes out into the cool night air, shivering and shoving his hands in his coat pockets. It was freezing in the Arctic. He was glad when he and Ford decided to head for warmer waters a week ago, winter in the Arctic circle is hellishly cold, and while it created many opportune moments for cuddling, he was getting real tired of being cold all the time. He wants to go to Tuscany, try the wines, the tomatoes, and the cheeses. Go to Rome and make fun of the hokey tourist attractions with Ford. Is it probably miserably hot down there and will Stan complain about it? Yes 100%, but as long as he's not freezing his balls off, he'll take anything. Subconsciously, he brings a hand out to adjust himself in his pants, thinking about Ford finally busting out those green shorts-

"Stanley?" He whirls around, hands shooting up out of instinct to protect his face before he relaxes. It's just Ford, good Ol' Poindexter scaring the piss out of him.

"Yeah, whatzit?" Stan asks, ducking his chin in his collar to shield his face from the cold. To also hide his blush. Ford looks good. Well, he always does, but for some reason, he looks really good right now. His hair is combed, for once, he's wearing a spiffy jacket and a pair of slacks that cut really nicely around his upper thighs. Stan has a hard time not staring. Hot damn is he lucky to have a one Stanford Pines as his lover. His Lover, capital "L". Sure it took some used to, getting over the whole incest thing, but honestly? They're too old to worry about that, and they've spent too many years apart to get hung up some trivial matter such as being related. At least, that's how Ford put it, and Stan couldn't help but agree, who were they hurting by being together?

"It's a rather nice night, isn't it? Do the stars seem brighter than normal to you?" Ford smiles so softly at Stan that he feels breathless for a moment, his heart aching at how much he loves his twin.

"Yeah, they-um, they're really pretty, the moon, too." Damn, he sounds like a babbling idiot. Just because Stanford looks extra good tonight and smiled at him so sweetly. You're a weak man, Stanley Pines. Weak.

Meh, he can live with that, being weak for the person he loves most in the entire galaxy. No, the entire multiverse. Stan would risk destroying the world a thousand more times for Ford, and he will if he has to, that's how much he loves him.

"Yes, the moon does seem rather bright tonight, does it not? I'm glad the sky seems so clear tonight, we were fortunate enough to catch it as it reaches fullness. You know, there are stories about..." Stan doesn't mean to tune Ford out, really, but he can't help but get lost in thought as he stares at him. The moon really is extra bright out tonight, gleaming off Ford's hair and reflecting off his face. Ford looks, well good is the only word coming to Stan's brain at this moment, but "good" doesn't really describe how he looks. He looks like he belongs in an old film as the smooth debonair protagonist. Like Hampterfuppinshire from "The Duchess Approves". Moses, he loves looking at Ford, looking at how he looks so much like when Stan saw him for the last time in Glass Shard but at the same time so different. He's taller, broader, stronger, and way hairier-Stan can attest for that. But he still smiles the same, still styles his hair-sideburns aside-the same. His brown eyes still sparkle the same when he talks, full of excitement and life and yearning. That's always been Stan's favorite part about Ford, his eyes. How they look like amber when the sun hits them at just the right angle, a shade lighter than Stan's. How Ford can never hide his emotions, not when Stan can look into his eyes and see how tormented, how pained, or how happy he is just with a glance. He loves most of all when they light up when Ford looks at his family, all together, when he looks at him-

Stan is jolted out of his thoughts when Ford drops down onto one knee. He scrambles, scared that he missed something serious or important when he was lost in the thought of Ford's eyes. He stops abruptly when his twin brings his hands up, cupped. He stares intently at Stan, who's getting steadily more confused and worried as Ford just stares at him. Finally, after what seems like forever, Ford opens his hands and reveals a ring glinting under the moonlight. It's black, dark enough that Stan wouldn't have been able to make out what it was if it was for the glinting of the moon off purple and blue hues in the ring. His brother is still staring, eyes looking at him, he knows that stare, he's staring so he can gather his words to speak in a way so that he wouldn't make as ass of himself. Stan's breath catches in his throat, and he fights to swallow the lump that formed as soon as Ford dropped down. He stares, he doesn't know what to think, his mind moving at half a mile per second. What is Ford doing? Why does he look so determined? And the ring? Stan opens his mouth to-to say something to get Ford to stop staring at him like that, to speak. He doesn't have to, Ford finds his words very soon.

"I love you, Stanley Caryn Pines. I have loved you for as long as I can remember. For me, it's always been you. Through our fights and being apart for 40 years, it's always been you. No one can make my heart sing the way you do," here, Ford's voice breaks a little, and Stan can see tears in his eyes before they're blinked away, "I need you by my side, I have always needed you by my side, even when I was a stupid fool who scorned you for mistake, even when I was raging against you, I have always needed you. I love you more than words can tell, more than I can say, really. And-and I know a wedding, especially at our age and with our relationship, probably seems ridiculous-heh-but I still want that. With you, proving our love to the world. I-if you'll have me, of course. So, will you-will you marry me?" Ford concludes his speech with an important question and a shaky smile, eyes tearing up and hands shaking-from nerves or the cold, Stan can't tell-but looking all the world in love. With Stan. He feels his heart clench so tightly he worries he's having a hear attack for a quick moment before shaking that thought away. He doesn't know what to say or how long he's been standing there silent, but he thinks its been too long because Ford is starting to look upset, his hand lowering from where he kept it up. "Stanley, I-I-"

Speechless, Stan reaches into his pocket and pulls out the box he's kept in there for 2 months straight now, too cowardly to offer it up to Ford. He holds the velvet box in his hands for a moment before he reaches out and hands it to Ford, waiting for him to open the case. He does so, slowly, eyes widening as he sees the old and tarnished ring sitting snugly in the case. It was their grandfather's, Stan inherited it-as Ford-when their father died. It's gold with a ring of silver in the middle. Ford's always like the story behind it, how their grandpa so desperately wanted to marry their granny, but couldn't afford a ring for her, so he gave a-Stan can't remember if it was a Jewelry maker or a metal smith, that part always changed-he gave a someone one of his mother's silver hoops and the gold caps from his teeth to make a ring with. Ford found the story sweet and romantic, Stan never truly understood that sacrifice until he spent 30 years living someone else's life just to bring back the only person he's ever loved.

"Well shit, guess you beat me to the punch, huh?" Stan laughs awkwardly at Ford's silent staring, his eyes going from the ring to Stan himself. "I-um. I got that after pa', y'know. And I-I've been carrying that old thing around for months now, just waiting for the right time," Stan waves his hands as he looks to the side, too cowardly to look at the man who just proposed to him holding the ring he was going to propose with. He pulls at his coat collar, feeling warm and a tiny bit suffocated. "Heh, it's probably not as nice as the ring you got-" yeah, it's probably made from a fucking Meteor or some shit- "but I remember you liked the ring and the story when we was kids s-so." Stan swallows, or tries to, his throat is too damn dry. "Well jeez, Poindexter, say something at least, I'm dying here." But Ford doesn't say anything. He laughs, hard, belly bouncing, head thrown back laughs. Stan joins with some chuckles after a moment, hoping he's not being mocked, that Ford suddenly changed his mind because Stan got him an old and shitty ring compared to his cool sci-fi one.

"Great Minds think alike, Stanley! Hah! I should have known, you've acting odd for weeks now. Well, more than usual, heh." Ford was smiling so wide that Stan's cheeks hurt just looking at it. So, he's not being rejected, that's good. It's great. It's more than great. "And you remembered the ring, oh Stanley you have no idea how much this means to me." If he looks closely enough, Stan can see tears in his brothers eyes, soft and sweet, happy tears.

"S-so 's that a yes to marrying me?" What? He's still afraid of being rejected. Looking at Stan's history, can you blame him?

"Only if you agree to marry me, as well, Stanley." Ford looks nervous, too, but Stan has no doubt in his mind that he'd say yes to his brother's proposal.

"Stanford, I've loved you my entire life, before that, I think. I loved you before I knew you," Stan snatches the cool probably-a-space ring from Ford's hands and crams it on his finger. A perfect fit. He probably took measurements when Stan was asleep. Such a little creep, his little creep. "Yes I'll marry you. Think I'd also propose-no wait, Bropose-"

"Stanley don't call it that-"

"If I didn't?" Stan finishes, ignoring Ford's interruption.

"Well in that case, Stanley, yes I'll marry you, too. You big sap." Ford fits the other ring on his fourth finger.

"Creep, I bet you spent weeks measuring my fingers to get a ring that fits this well." Stan shoots back, he's got to hold on to his pride. He's no sap.

"Says the man who admitted to carrying around this ring for months. What was it you said? You "loved me before you knew me"? Sounds sappy-ow!" Ford rubs his arm where Stan punched him, throwing a pout his way. They break out into boisterous laughter again at the situation, sibling fights after proposing to each other. Can't beat this type of relationship.

"Hey, should I get you a second ring, for your extra ring finger? Symmetry an' all that Jazz?" Stan asks, shoving Ford out of the way to beat him to the door. It really is cold outside.

"Stanley, stop it! I-ugh fine, go ahead." Ford shoves Stan through the door, "I don't feel like it's wholly necessary to do that, but far be it from me to stop you. Should we tell the kids about this?"

"Nah, not right away, at least. We gotta get married on international waters, anyways, no laws against incest marriages here." Stan rubs his hands together to warm them, grinning as he feels the ring rub against his other fingers.

"We could get married far out enough from the Californian Coast to be in International Waters but have the twins there, assuming they'd want to come. Should we have a summer wedding? Hmmm, maybe spring, I want it to be warm enough that no one's shivering, but I do like our summers back in Gravity Falls, and I'd hate to miss out on it, even for our Honey Moon...." Ford talks on as they warm themselves up inside their cabin, pulling out the ingredients for Hot Cocoa.

Stan smiles at his-his fiance's ramblings. Moses, he really does love his brother.

[skys-archive]

Quick ableism rant.

My friend dated this guy and we both cut contact with him like, four months ago? Like October I think it doesn't really matter. But he's like ridiculously obsessed with me and talks about me to everyone who will listen to him and it's kinda fucking creepy. But he texted that friend (who he has ignored for months) about me yesterday and he said all kinds of stuff that honestly I don't really care about at all.

BUT. He was talking about how I used to feel like the two of them never did anything with me and it made me upset. And he told them that he stopped inviting me because so often I would have to cancel plans or leave early because. Yknow. I'm disabled. And he said that "He researched my disability and all sources said that its not that painful". And that he thinks it was maybe just me not wanting to hang with him and like. Actually fuck you.

I'm told every day that my disability isn't real because it's not really medically recognized that you can have lyme disease long term or have long term issues because of it. I had to quit track and field in middle and high school because I just couldn't do it anymore. I had to quit my concert band - something I loved absolutely so much maybe more than anything - because the physical aspect of it was so terrible for me and it was affecting how the directors treated me even outside of the physical parts. I'm terrified of having to give up theatre because I'm having similar issues.

I have been in pain every single day for years now and he has the audacity to say that it's not that painful. He hasn't lived with it and honestly I really hate to know that even when we were friends he didn't believe it was a real problem and thinks I use it as an excuse. It's even worse to actively not invite me because I might have to quit.

I don't talk to him, I've blocked him everywhere and told him not to talk to me but it's. So frustrating how much he keeps trying to drag me back into shit. Like several months ago I cut out all the people and things in my life who were doing me more harm than good and literally every single one of them has tried to pull me back into it.

Like. Leave me alone. Please.

[snkception]

Umm what. How has it been 10 years since I got into SnK, started sharing a ton of thoughts about it and met @momtaku?? The fact that I’ve since fallen out of SnK and cycled through many other fandoms and interests lends some credence to this number. Still: ten years?? Sounds fake, but okay.

In honour of this dubious anniversary, I figured it might be fun to look back on the posts I've made and select my top 5 favourites (in no particular order). I instantly broke my own rules and went for groups of posts instead, but here we are:

I do still like my early post on Eren's characterisation, where I talked about how the narrative literally didn’t let Eren win on any terms on which he was prepared to fight. It got a spiritual sequel in this post, which talks about Eren in the later stages. I never finished the manga, so I don't actually know how accurate that reading was in the end... but it felt true at the time of writing:

Eren just gives the impression of a person who’s gazed into the abyss for too long, and the abyss looked back. The one thing he seems to have learned in this narrative is that sometimes Bad choices are your only choices, and even if that makes you a Bad person you still keep moving forward. At the core of him is still the same steely resolve that has kept him going the entire time, but he’s stopped reaching for moral high grounds or possibly even believing that they exist, which is the worrying part. He’s now okay crawling in the dirt with villains, if that gives him his victory. And this, this is something that no one wanted Eren to become.

Mikasa-centric posts galore. She was my favourite character for a long time, so I think that's why I have a soft spot for those posts.

I think generally posts speculating on the themes of the story: the circular nature of violence, moving forward and fighting on, redemption, the human condition, the inherent moral ambiguity...

What this story seems to be discussing—broadly speaking, right—is the human condition in general. The story talks about the kind of hell people can create for themselves and for each other, the kinds of things people are capable of, the best and the worst of them, and the paths good people might take when faced with a plethora of choices each of which is bad in a different way.

I'm torn between this piece on Levi and Dulce et decorum est, the post about Floch of all people that does also touch on overall story themes (and we've established I love talking about those).

He asks, what do these medals do for anyone? Whom does this memorial ceremony serve? They don’t help the hundreds of people that died in terrible pain, they don’t resurrect the fallen–all this pomp and circumstance achieves is legitimizing this bloody, horrendous battle as glorious.

Some visual posts, like the Hamilton mashup! And this one on the progression of Sasha, Connie and Jean. And this one about Levi and Mikasa's Ackerman awakening.

An honourable mention to the Christmas singalong, which continues to delight me.

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

the higher-ups (and Yaga) immediately trying to leverage Gojo & Ieri's absence to put Yuuta on the roster??? God that's such a stark moment. Thank god Nanami and Gojo saw through that one immediately, because Yuuta wants to justify his own survival so badly he would've fallen straight into it.

That whole scene, with Yuuta immediately jumping on the opportunity to help people even though something is Extremely Wrong with him and he's on the brink of physical collapse--this boy is selfless to the point of self destruction and I am chewing the drywall about it. I love him so much.

If only he was able to summon his newly found homicidal rage in defense of himself, the higher-ups would no longer be a problem. Alas, this boy is Extremely Unwell.

(Sea Glass Gardens is absolutely incredible and i am obsessed with it in a way that is totally and 100% normal. I'm so normal about it, trust me <3 )

The thing about Yuuta is that he really is prime to be taken advantage of right now and the higher ups know it. They had him try to kill himself for them--they know that there's a window of opportunity that they can use to get him under their thumb and avoid The Problem of Gojo, which is, namely, having a human weapon who you cannot fully control. Gojo nailed it from the beginning: they want a magic gatling gun with no personality or free will. They learned their lesson with Gojo and are trying to rob Yuuta of his agency before he learns how to protect himself.

And Yaga's part in that scene really was meant to kind of emphasize how, even with the best intention's, he just doesn't work to protect the kids. Like. everything he said was technically true, and he meant it with the best of intentions. He's the guy who has to think of everyone's needs. he has to manage this crisis. he's got a lot of people hurt badly who just came out of a war, and a lot of people going into fights with some very aggravated curses spawning without sufficient manpower to address the danger and no healer to save them if they cut it a little too close. He didn't have the intention of manipulating or sacrificing Yuuta, but he was aware that it would come to his detriment and risk.

The issue is the higher ups. They don't give a shit about the people in their workforce. They should be the ones doing whatever it takes to solve this crisis and save their people--and if that means giving up on their machinations? They should have already done it. It's their responsibility.

They just don't care. They want Okkotsu Yuuta under their thumb, and their society hemorrhaging is treated like an opportunity, not a dire problem to be solved. They don't care if half a dozen of their own people need to die to do it. Hell, it's better if they do die--they can put it straight on Okkotsu for not being willing to sacrifice himself, when they should have been making whatever promises they had to in order to make this work.

Gojo's done this before, is the thing. He was Yuuta, a long time ago. Nanami was right there watching it happen. They both know what the higher ups do: They let society get to a crisis level and put all the responsibility on you to save it. they let you maneuver yourself into a vulnerable position as a result, and then they use it as leverage to put their goddamn boot on your neck.

The thing is that Gojo adopting megumi all those years ago really did put them into a crisis state. the zenin pitched the mother of all bitch fits trying to secure his unconditional return, and they were a huge percentage of jujutsu society's labor force and resource pools. instead of the higher ups managing the problem at all, they took advantage of the situation and shoved more and more of its weight and responsibility onto gojo, until he was dropping off his own kid at his abusers' compound thinking it was the only compromise that could resolve things. megumi paid the price for gojo not calling bullshit, and right now, with him in a hospital bed? gojo's less willing to repeat mistakes than ever.

he knows that they're going to use the safety and suffering of everyone else as the leverage against him, and he knows that as terrible as it is, he cannot blink first. He's played this game before, and he knows that the only way to get the higher ups to back off on something like this is to dig in your heels.

I think what happened to Megumi all those years ago and how bad it got before they put a stop to it is something that haunts all three of them. When they first started raising him, they were very young, and they were very broken, and they loved him very, very much. He was their little boy, and he was never the same after the Zenin. They were supposed to protect him, and they didn't, and not a single one of them has forgiven themselves for that.

Megumi was sort of sacrificed for the greater good when he was a kid. None of them thought that that was what they were doing when it happened, but that's what happened. His happiness, safety, and wellbeing were sacrificed to pacify the Zenin and make it easier on everyone else.

Megumi and Tsumiki had to become their non-negotiables after. They had to become the things they refused to compromise on. The Zenin would take miles and miles if you gave them a millimeter, let alone an inch.

Gojo didn't think he was compromising them when he left them on their own to deal with Geto's war. They were disgustingly self-sufficient kids. They had been alone for longer stretches of time when they were practically toddlers--they should have been fine on their own for a couple of weeks.

But they were still his kids, and he still left them alone for everyone else's sake, and now his kid is blind and half dead in a hospital bed. It's like being punched in the face by old mistakes.

So they're off the roster completely, all of them. And they're not compromising an inch on what their focus is, and they're not letting anything happen to any of the other kids in their care.

It's terrible that their coworkers are suffering, but it wouldn't be happening if the Zenin hadn't fucked with Gojo Satoru's kid, of all the goddamn people. It wouldn't be happening if the higher ups would actually do their job and start managing shit.

And if they use Yuuta as an anxiety riddled bandaid on the bullet hole in their society? Then they'd be sacrificing him the way they sacrificed Megumi all those years ago. And they have never been less willing to do that.

I'm so so glad you like the story! Thank you for talking with me!

[californiaquail]

well boss said reese has no indication of any uti or crystals only a tiny amount of red blood cells which can be caused by the manual expression. coworker insisted there was no point in taking rads to see if he's blocked from the string so going to try some laxaire and hope 😬🤞🏻also then my boss gave me a ride to the bus stop so i didn't have to carry the huge crate which was uncharacteristically nice of him 🤨

[rubys-domain]

... i think i'm gonna pull for arlecchino actually...

[cactusdodes]

.

[onrainynights]

🕯️manifesting my promotion🕯️

[gxtzeizm]

watching some of the clips from yesterday's delayed-then-postponed match by the players and casters as well....and what can i say is the organizing side of the iesf is literally a fucking joke and unserious asf like bfr tho lolllllllllll

[foxstens]

just. just let them all die just fucking kill them all i am done with them. just kill everyone but will and the dogs

[orlissa]

A few weeks ago I read a YA book - it doesn't really matter which one exactly -, set in Argentina and Egypt, in the 1880s, and it included a sentence I cannot get out of my head:

[The dress] had a matching parasol, ruffled and useless save for protecting my skin from the sun.

This unassuming sentence, my friends, is one of the stupidest shit I've ever read (I honestly don't know how it slipped past the editor).

On the one hand, like, consider the word itself: parasol. It literally means "to protect against the sun." To say that a parasol is useless save for, you know, protecting you from the sun, is to say something like "a pen is useless save fro writing."

ITS FREAKING PURPOSE IS TO PROTECT YOU FROM THE SUN.

And even that is not useless - a parasol is vital, especially, you know, in Egypt, where 90% of the novel is set. You don't have sunblock in the 1880s, and, vanity put aside... you don't want to end up with a nasty sunburn - hence the parasol. It's not "useless" - it has one specific and very important function - which it fulfills! It doesn't have to do anything else!

And the most infuriating in the whole thing is that you just know that sentences and sentiments like this stem from the misconception that everything women did or wore pre-20th century is the product of the opressive patriarchy and should be condemned. Corsets are yucky. Long skirt are ewww. Parasols are USELESS.

Heaven forbid that all of these things made sense in their given context.

Honestly, I really wanna see some heroines in historical/fantasy books who go, like "no, I feel naked without my corset, it's like my armor" and "you want me to wear pants? I don't know, I'd feel so awkward." And, you know, heroines who thrive in the period specific femininity, instead of trying to dismantle it, because that's so cool.

[nikkento-writes]

It starts with a distasteful joke from Gojo. "I bet Nanami's pretty vanilla in bed, am I right?" He nudges you playfully as he sips on his lychee mocktail in the restaurant. Your boyfriend excused himself to use the bathroom and Ieiri went out for a smoke, leaving you alone with Gojo, who you met for the first time just a little over an hour ago.

You're shocked that he'd even ask such a personal question, especially since your relationship with Nanami is still four-months fresh. Unsure how to respond, you simply laugh, not answering. When he continues to stare at you through his blindfold, your smile falters. "You're being serious?"

He smirks, clearly egging you on. "I just can't imagine our little strait-laced salary man being very fun in the sack. No offense."

You're torn between changing the subject all together into something less inappropriate and defending your lover's honor. And unfortunately for you, as the anger inside you begins to bubble at Gojo's tactless words, you choose the latter. "If you must know, he's very, very fun in the sack." You cross your arms over your chest, glaring at him. 

He shrugs, the shit-eating grin still on his face. "I just can't see it. But as long as you're satisfied, that's all that matters."

"I am very satisfied, thank you very much!" you emphasize, cheeks hot now, annoyed. Before you explode on him, Nanami and Ieiri return, so you try to contain your rage as much as possible throughout the rest of dinner.

You intend to keep his outrageous comments to yourself, not wanting to start any unnecessary drama, especially with Nanami who is above this type of ridiculousness. But remembering Gojo's smug expression makes you irate all over again. That night, while you're cuddling with Nanami, you share the story. "So, Gojo said something funny to me while you were in the bathroom." As you recount the short conversation from earlier, you keep it light-hearted, laughing about it as if it doesn't grind your gears (which it does). In all honestly, your sex life with Nanami is amazing, and while it's nobody's business but your own, you can't help being bothered that certain people think otherwise. 

When you're done, Nanami doesn't respond right away, processing it all before he speaks. "Interesting." His voice is steady, though you can sense a hint of annoyance in his tone. "He's an idiot," he adds, holding you closer, grazing his lips on your forehead. 

You giggle, snuggling into his chest. "I know."

"But...you are satisfied, right?"

The waver of uncertainty in his voice breaks your heart and you almost regret telling him. "Of course I am! You know I am!" you answer confidently, peering up at him.

He kisses your forehead. "You promise?"

Grabbing both his cheeks, you smooch him on the lips. "I promise."

Gentle kisses soon turn into sloppy ones as Nanami rolls on top of you, surrounding you in his strong and muscular body. It happens quickly; the blanket is shrugged off, clothes are stripped and scattered on the floor, your legs are spread wide for him as he eats you out voraciously, proving how much fun he can be in bed. He makes you orgasm twice like this, getting it nice and wet for his hard cock, throbbing in his fist as he strokes it. “Ride me,” he demands, laying on his back, licking his lips while you mount him.

You oblige, sinking down on his cock slowly, adjusting to his size. “Fuck, Kento,” you whine, wiggling on his lap until he bottoms out.

“Feels good, huh sweetheart?” He traces your mouth with his thumb, teasing it.

“Yes. So fucking good.” You suck on his fingers, rocking back and forth on his lap. 

He fucks you like this, his feet planted on the bed, bucking his hips up into you at a steady pace. Suddenly, his phone rings, interrupting for a moment. He glances at it, his expression tensing, showing you the name displayed on the screen: Gojo Satoru.

"Answer it," you say, grinding on him with a wicked smile on your face. "Prove him wrong."

For a split-second, he looks at you like you're crazy. But something in him snaps, probably the same thing that made you so angry earlier. Sometimes, you just want to prove yourself right. 

He picks up the phone, putting it on speaker. Gojo's voice rings out. "Nanami, I feel terrible. I said some inappropriate things to your girl - "

"Fuck me, Kento," you whine, bouncing on his lap as he thrusts up into you faster, entire body hot and electric with pleasure. 

Nanami has the phone in one hand and the other that was just in your mouth playing with your clit now. Through labored breaths, he says, "Sorry Gojo, I'm a bit busy being an absolute bore in bed. Isn't that right, kitten?" 

He holds the phone closer to you while you moan your boyfriend's name, your third climax of the night approaching quickly. "Kento, Kento, fuck me Kento!”

Satisfied, Nanami sets the phone down on the bed, gripping your hips to pound up into you, the squelching of his cock pummeling into your wet cunt so erotic and lewd. “Gonna fill you up, sweetheart. Gonna breed this slutty little pussy.” Over the edge now, he shoots his load inside you, letting out his own husky moans. He hastily lifts you off him to eat you out one last time, his cum leaking down from your cunt onto his chin as he sucks on your swollen clit until you come on his face, moaning obscenities incessantly. Completely spent now, you pull off him to cuddle, kissing each other messily as you both come down from your high. 

"Ahem." Gojo's voice startles you as you realize that neither he nor Nanami bothered to hang up the call. Horrified, the two of you wait with bated breath for his response, noting the suggestive ruffling in the background. "I apologize. I stand corrected."