#but that's my own thoughts and a separate (though related) matter

[pshbites]

the word zionist / zionism. 

To preface, these are my own thoughts and beliefs. I am not making this post to bash any writers on this platform because I believe enough of that is already happening. This post is rather being made to spread awareness of what I believe is going on.

The word Zionism in my own terms, if I were asked to describe it in front of people, would be the belief of the ethnic cleansing of Palestine and ridding Palestinians of their own home. If i were asked as a muslim to describe it, my answer would be different. The answer I would give would be the ethnic cleansing of palestine and ridding palestinians of their own home because they are muslims. In short, killing muslims in the benefit to ethnic cleansing. Now that the term has been defined I think most can agree why this term is so loaded, the term in itself has connotations to islamophobia and many muslim mutuals of mine agree that this term is heavy and loaded.

To accuse someone of being a zionist (someone who follows zionism) is a hefty statement and can be plausible if the correct evidence has been provided. That isn't the case from what I’ve seen though. Two of my close mutuals have been accused of being as such by other writers. Seeing as I am muslim and I believe, muslims more than anyone have more reason to believe who is and who is not a zionist, I decided to message them myself. 

This conversation ended rather quickly because I blocked the person, okwonyo, involved. To accuse a muslim of being a zionist is one thing, but to claim that “being muslim has nothing to do with this” is another. Calling people zionists is not something that can be brushed past so easily and the only evidence being that the person involved had a Lana Del Rey song as her fic title? To put it simply, it shows where your real activism lies and that is to villainize others for no reason.

I agree, supporting zionism is bad, I agree with that more than anyone. But to focus on such a miniscule detail when you claim to want better for palestine, well that defeats the whole purpose. If this writer and their mutuals claim that this is an act of zionism then let's open up a case. If having your fic title as a lana del rey song is equated to being a zionist, then writing for enhypen or any other kpop group makes you one as well.

According to this writer's logic, if writing any sort of fic related to a song by a zionist makes you one, then writing for kpop idols under zionist companies makes you just as bad. You cannot have your cake and eat it too. You cannot stream enhypen or other kpop groups if you claim that you can't separate art from the artist, well then your genre of kpop is gone as a whole along with other musicians you like such as ariana grande, taylor swift, the weekend, and billie eilish, to name some. 

My point here is that if you claim that you can't separate art from the artist, then hold that same candle to your own favs, kpop or otherwise. This was never about the lana del rey fic title but rather about the fact that your activism will only matter to you when you want to villainize someone for something. I have seen performative activism and this is a call out to ALL writers and not just one.

If you want to sit behind your screen and accuse zionism on someone, then go and use a genocide to paint them as a villain to your band of supporters, you are wasting time. Time is being wasted every second you do this to someone (surprisingly enough it didn't happen once) and instead if you claim that you care so much about Palestine then go out and do something about it. Like I said previously, go donate, attend rallies and protests, support your local mosques, boycott things that REALLY matter. If you would do these things rather than blindly attacking someone for no reason and accusing them of being part of such a disgusting group of people, you would be doing a lot more for palestine. 

If I were to be honest, all I see from fellow writers on this app is performative activism. I have grown up knowing the genocide occurring in palestine and I have always attended protests and donated funds for as long as I can remember. I am not saying that you are lacking if you don’t do these things, but to only bring up this genocide when you want to attack someone, that is the real issue. You cannot just add a link in your bio or pinned for the sake of your followers. If you are not constantly talking about or spreading awareness for this terrible genocide that’s been occurring since the 1940s then you are a part of the problem. 

This genocide does not only exist on your phones. To sit behind a screen and only talk about it then, it diminishes all the activism you have and liquifies you to what you are and that is a performative activist. Once again, performative activism has never been cute and if this genocide only exists in the bounds of trying to villainize others, then you are just as bad as the group you claim to be so far against. 

tagging some mutuals for exposure. @cupidhoons @ourhees @elysianiki @kairoot @suneng @hyuckworld @lqfiles @jayparked @selleprotection @fatalhoon @enhastars @coqhee @leeechin

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

So, Canada has decided to stop sending arms to Israel after an NDP motion. The Liberals made major amendments to it so as to firmly condemn Hamas as well. It's kind of a mixed bag. Honestly, it's naive of me but I didn't expect there would still be so much outrage, even if the motion did call for an acknowledgement of Palestine as a state. All the Conservatives voted against it - to be fair, some of them wanted to wait for the motion to be passed because the amendments were super last minute and the Bloc Quebecois were annoyed that because of this there wasn't a French translation.

I guess it's a step in the right direction. I think it's still weak but you can read more on it here.

Source 1, Source 2, Source 3

[lokisgoodgirl]

Clean [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: After a difficult mission, your ex Loki has a revelation. (w/c 1.6k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Mild angst. Pining. Feelings. Smuttish. Loki x Fem Reader. A/N: I'm planning some filthy stuff soon - but for now, we're still in angsty romance era. 😇

Loki sat hunched with his back against the bathroom wall, head in his hands. Blood was smeared over the white shirt: his own and not his own. It was ripped in several places, sleeves folded up to the elbows.

“It wasn’t locked,” you said stiffly, fingers tightening around the knob. “Would it have mattered? I expect you’re quite desperate to see me like this.” He tilted his head, voice sharp, eyes tired. “Don’t you wish to capture the scene on your device? Surely Rogers would relish a commemoration of my ineptitude.”

Loki had made a scene as the team exited the Quinjet, throwing his ruined suit jacket off the roof of Stark Tower and kicking a fire bucket for good measure. His voice was choked with anger.

“Let me be,” he’d roared after Steve shouted something about medical in his direction. The Captain had turned to the rest of you with a defeated shrug, but your eyes hadn't left Loki's back as he waged a path though the doors and they slammed behind him in a flash of green.

Loki had taken the worst of the heat from the Hydra agents working undercover in downtown Chicago. He’d been cornered by three of them, and soon a capture order had turned into a triple kill—but not before taking some punishment for his efforts.

‘I tried to subdue them humanely,’ Loki had muttered afterwards, inspecting a deep gash on his forehead in the Quinjet’s sheen. ‘They wouldn’t listen to reason.’ ‘How hard did you try?’ Steve had sniped. ‘We’re in a pickle now, thanks Laufeyson. A real pickle indeed. Typical.’ To that, Loki had said nothing. He’d refused all clean-up on the way home, sitting in a fury-riddled silence that tainted the re-circulated air.

You took a step over the bathroom’s boundary, and then shrank back.

Relations between you had been frosty since you’d gone your separate ways: to this day you weren’t quite sure what had happened. One day, everything was perfect. The next—it was over. You’d chalked it up to the god settling in to life on Earth; him realising you weren’t the only person on the planet who thought the sun shone from his perfectly formed arse…but that had never felt right. Despite snooping, you’d never got a whiff of him shagging anyone else. Based on your experience with Loki, that was especially odd.

You took a deep breath, crossing the floor and extending a hand. To your surprise, he took it and heaved himself up. Fuck, you’d forgotten how heavy he was; how his forearms bulged when they flexed, how his body felt pressing down on yours as he railed you gently on the bed you’d shared.

Ok, maybe not that last one. You cleared your throat, pulling your hand back. Loki sighed, eyes cast to the floor.

“I’m filthy,” he said with an air of disgust, reflexively running a hand across his waist. Pain rippled across his features.

“You’re hurt, you need to go to—” “I’m quite well.” “Loki,” you warned. His lashes fluttered up, nailing his gaze to yours. An eyebrow cocked. Feeling your cheeks heat, you turned and switched on the shower. “Steve shouldn’t have spoken to you like that earlier,” you said, trying to keep the flurry of nerves from your voice. “You did what you had to do—they’d have killed you.” “Please,” Loki snorted. “They would not have killed me. I’m offended that you would even imply it.” You glanced over your shoulder. Even in his dishevelled state, he was giving every inch the haughty, regal snob that you’d fallen desperately in love with. And that was the problem, wasn't it? It was the only version of him you'd ever been granted.

“Then why are you in such a state?” Loki’s brow furrowed. “A what?” “Why are you upset?” “I’m not upset.” “You were literally sitting on the floor with your head in your hands.” “It’s an Asgardian victory custom.” “Loki…”

His jaw clenched as you leant against the sink and his keen eyes darted over your face. “I…tried not to kill them,” he said through gritted teeth. It was the same voice he’d used when the two of you had ‘the conversation’—you hadn’t heard it since. An icy finger trailed down your spine at the bitterness in his voice as he said, “I failed.”

Understanding blossomed through your mind. You remembered a cold winter’s night, Loki curled naked against your back, confessing his deepest secret while he thought you’d slept. I’m afraid I’ll never be good, he’d whispered in the dark; that I’ll always be stained with the curse of my past.

You realised the mask of stoicism had slipped from your face at the exact moment Loki’s expression shifted. His gaze broke, returning to the floor. “You should leave,” he said. “You’re not safe with me.” The echo of the last time you’d been alone together—the same words. Does he remember?

Pushing off the sink, you shuffled towards him, cupping his forearm. The grit of dried blood rubbed beneath your fingertips as you squeezed. “You can’t think that. It’s been years…”

Suddenly Loki’s hands ran up your cheeks, thumbs pressing into your jaw as your back met the wall. He’d pinned you under the shower, speckles of water hitting off his shoulder and splattering your skin. His eyes searched yours: all fire, and destiny.

“I’ll never be free,” he said. His gaze dropped to your lips and back to your eyes. “I’ll never be clean.”

You caressed the well-trodden path his buttons made up the front of his shirt. Still beautifully tailored despite the dirt, and sweat, and blood. “Not with that attitude,” you said, and his brows peaked. “Everyone knows your history, Loki. We need you here. We want you here.” “And you?”

The shower seemed very loud all of a sudden. Especially me. “You really have to ask?” You brushed the sides of his shirt apart and Loki swallowed, his eyes closing a heartbeat too long as your fingers lingered on the bruise forming over the flat of his abdomen. “Loki…” you chided, tracing the blossom of indigo across his alabaster skin. “Steve was right, you should be in medical.” He snorted, hands falling by his sides. “If you’d come five minutes later, it would have been gone.” Fat droplets of water roll over the tips of his cheekbones, streaks of pale skin beneath the dust and dirt of the mission. You’ve never seen him like this. He never let you see anything other than the perfect prince; the unshakeable god. “Doesn’t it hurt?” You circled higher on his chest, appreciating the taut skin firm beneath your own. You'd swear you could see the thrum of his heartbeat.

“Always,” he said sadly, and something in his voice told you he wasn’t talking about the injuries. God, I miss this. I miss him. Now, finally, you could admit it to yourself. The weight of the confession slid from your body, circling the drain as Loki shivered, and the dark pools of his pupils spread wider.

Cautiously, your hands ran up his chest, over his shoulders, peeling the soaking shirt from his back and down his arms. It fell with a slop to the shower floor.

“What are you doing?” he asked with a faint narrow of his eyes. You licked your lips, unsure of what how to answer. What are you doing? But it was now or never. This kind of vulnerability was a particularly rare ship to dock in Loki’s harbour.

Running your palms up his neck, he groaned softly as they slid up the sharp prow of his jawline, up the bladed cheekbones and into the slick of his sodden hair. He closed his eyes, a low sigh rattling his chest. For a moment, there was only the patter of water against porcelain.

“Showing you how to be clean again,” you whispered before your lips fastened to his. Loki’s eyes shot open, one hand slamming to the tiles behind your shoulder to steady himself as you pulled away. Your heart thumped between your ribs.

Oh god, he doesn’t want it. You’ve fucked it up. Memories of the longing glances you’d seen painted on his face across the room, the brush of his touch on your arm which lasted a second too long, the anger simmering beneath his skin when he thought you’d moved on. It had all been in your head. The thought was almost too much to bear.

“Why did you stop?”

Breath caught in your throat as his words soaked through the rising steam; low and smooth. The response fell from your mouth in breathless stages, hyper-focused on the shirt plastered to his skin. “I didn’t think you wanted it, I’m sorry I—” A soft, disbelieving chuckle rumbled in his throat before he said, “How could I not want you?” Your eyes rose.

The god was fully soaked now; hair plastered to his neck like ink, shirt and trousers moulded to the sinews and meat of his body like a second skin. The last traces of dirt from his skin were gone, and the water around your feet ran clear. You pulled the back of his neck towards you.

Loki’s kiss was an eruption of desire, of pain, of need; his palm slipping on the tile behind your head before switching to your waist. It worked over your hip, your breasts, your ass, never staying in one place, never lingering too long. “Gods, I missed you, I've missed you,” he murmured wet against your cheek. You crossed your arms over your chest, pulling the sodden top over your head. “So soon?” A soft smile curled at his mouth. “We’ve wasted enough time, haven’t we?”

In answer, Loki ran a finger from the hollow of your neck between your breasts. A chill skated across your skin as your trousers dissolved— his too. He pressed his body to yours, warm against the sharp sting of the tiles. Water pooled in the crevice where your skin met, Loki’s kisses sliding over your lips—one slipping into the next—pants of devotion wisping down your throat. He lifted your thigh, manoeuvring himself inside with one, liquid movement. You clasped to his shoulders, nails digging in to his flesh like he might vanish. All you could feel was his body, his presence, his faint moan of relief in your ear.

“No more living in the past,” you panted. “Loki, promise me.” He tilted his cheek into your wrist, water droplets falling from the ends of his hair to the curve of your breasts below. “A fresh start,” he said quietly, kissing the delicate skin. You groaned as he thrusted gently inside you. “Clean,” he panted, “New.” “Together,” you said. “Together,” Loki replied.

And then, among plumes of steam and the slide of bodies and wordless promises, there was no more talking.

Tags in comments ❤️

[southern-fried-simpin]

We Belong Dead| Alastor x Dead Wife!Reader

A/n: Hey everyone I know it’s been a LONG time since I’ve written something and I’m sorry it’s not DC related but I finished Hazbin with my fiancée MONTHS AGO and I’ve been wanting to write Alastor soooo bad! With all of that being said, let it be known that I do NOT condone or agree with any of the questionable actions and opinions of Vivienne Medrano, but I DO enjoy this show and a lot of the characters.

Warning(s): Floofy but suggestive, Alastor “using” reader and reader just kind of going along with it, mentions of murder, sad at first, human Alastor and reader mentioned, temporary unrequited love, Demi romantic Alastor, Alastor because he’s…Alastor, mentions of marriage, canon divergence, suicide, death, loooooong introduction and plot h🫠

“Mama, we’re gonna get married!”

Alastor had decided that you were both ready for marriage in the middle of the school yard and decided to announce this as his mother came to pick him up.

His mother feigned shock as she started to playfully chide him.

“You can’t just marry some girl you met on the first day of school!”

Alastor kept his arms around you as you both giggled and showed his mother the ribbon he had tied around your finger.

“Oh my!” She exclaimed.

“Obviously you two are very serious about this! How about we have your fiancée over for dinner after school one day so I can get to know her better, hm?”

Despite Alastor never having that wedding ceremony with you on the playground, you both remained close all the way up until you graduated high school. After that, you went your separate ways.

Several years later, when Alastor bumped into you as you were leaving the corner store one day, you ended up talking to him for hours. After which, you had started getting together more often. Eating out, going to shows, drinking and having fun together.

Somewhere along the way, however, having fun together turned into going on dates together. Going on dates turned into staying up late talking for hours about anything and everything, and lovely gifts.

One such gift being your engagement ring.

Looking back on it now, you don’t know how or why you thought it was normal for a man to propose after 6 months.

On the outside, Alastor was the husband that every woman dreamed of. He helped you clean and cook, he never raised his voice, and he always bragged about you. On the inside however, something felt stiff. Tense. Off.

Alastor rarely ever initiated kisses, he barely touched you, and he disappeared in the middle of the night rather frequently.

After he was killed, it all made sense. You weren’t his wife so much as you were his alibi. Who would have thought the vicious killer that buried his victims on a hunting ground had a wife waiting at home? A wife who, despite what everyone believed, was oblivious to his crimes. It didn’t matter, though. In a matter of days, you lost your job, your friends, and your peace of mind. In the weeks that came to pass, you slowly lost your mind and your will to live as well.

You died in your sleep after taking a cocktail of pills with a glass of brandy. The police found you in bed wearing your most expensive nightgown, your hair neatly styled, and makeup done perfectly.

Just like before, time had gone on, and your time in hell had been quite interesting. Maybe even a bit enjoyable if you were being honest. The old saying rang true: Hell truly had no fury like a woman scorned. Your arrival in Hell was a testament to that.

Armed with your broken heart and raw, stinging rage, you made a home for yourself and began your own business. Anyone who got in your way was sliced open with the very weapons you sold. You were very aware of Alastor’s presence, but made no effort to contact him. He had no idea you were here, either.

That changed a few days ago.

Who should you see while on an outing in Cannibal Town but your darling husband. He looked different, but you recognized him almost immediately. He offered to walk with you and followed you even after you declined. Every day after that, he miraculously ran into you everywhere you went. He was relentless in trying to get your attention. He would try to talk to you and when you ignored him, he would carry on speaking like it was nothing. Today you finally cracked when he invited you to come to a hotel. The Hazbin Hotel, specifically.

“Why?”

“Well, I thought I might show you this little…business venture…I’ve been working on recently! After all, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen my lovely wi-“

“Don’t call me that.” You spat.

His smile never faltered, but his eyes held a look of momentary discomfort.

“Ah, and here we are!” Alastor pointed his staff towards the building in front of you. It looked like some place from when you were alive, except old and decrepit.

Ever the gentleman, Alastor held the door for you as you walked in before he followed suit. Not 5 minutes passed before a woman with long silver hair angrily stomped in your direction.

“Alastor! Where have y-,” she paused when she noticed you by his side, “who…who the fuck is this?” A blonde was following close behind her.

“I’m glad you asked!” Alastor’s smile broadened. He proceeded to introduce you as his beloved wife to everyone in the room, and then introduced them to you, completely ignoring the looks of shock and awe on their faces. Before anyone else in the room could speak, Alastor hastily took your hand.

“Now, if you excuse us, we have some things to discuss.” With that, you and Alastor promptly dissolved into a shadowy mist.

The lobby was silent then as everyone stared at where Alastor and you once stood.

“Ssso…that was weird for everyone elsse too…right?”

Meanwhile, upstairs, Alastor turned after carefully locking the door to his room.

“Now, I suppose I owe you an explana—“, he was cut off by a resounding smack when your hand connected with his cheek. Alastor’s head turned with a sharp snap. He stood completely still there for a moment, eyes wide and smile looking painfully forced. If it had been anyone else, they would’ve been dead by now, but you? Well…he always liked how feisty you were. Alastor cleared his throat before speaking again.

“Alright…”, he said while turning to face you. “I probably deserved that…”

“You deserve a lot worse than that actually, but go on.”

“I know, and I can’t…” Alastor suddenly felt unsure of what to say. Granted, The Radio Demon was not one for heartfelt apologies (or any apologies for that matter) but if anyone deserved one from him, it was you. Yet, there he stood: the feared Radio Demon, lost for words at your mere presence.

There was a long and uncomfortable silence.

“Do you have any idea what you did to me?” You finally said. “What I suffered because of you?!”

Alastor offered no response.

“What FUCKING-“ you paused as tears began to well in your eyes. Your face red and splotchy and your lips quivering as you started to sob.

“You lied to me-“

“I did.”

“You used me!”

“I did.”

“You told me you loved me!”

“I do.”

And that gave you pause. Had he loved you? Really loved you? No. It had to be a lie. He couldn’t possibly-

“I know I can’t make up for everything I did and everything that happened…” Alastor said while walking towards you. When he stopped, just a few inches from you, you had to look up at him. Alastor was taller than you in life, but now he towered over you. He gently took your hand in his. “But I’ll spend the rest of eternity trying…for you.”

You watched as he gently kissed your fingers. With tears in your eyes and an uneven breath, you laid your head on his chest.

You missed him. You tried not to miss him, but you did and there was no use in denying it anymore.

“One chance,” you finally said. “That’s all you get.”

“That’s all I’m asking.”

You looked up at Alastor and locked eyes with him briefly. The feared Radio Demon wanted nothing more right now than a chance to have you back. His eyes flitted between your lips and your eyes before he dipped you low. To anyone else, it would be an over-the-top gesture, but to you? Oh, how his theatrics made you blush and swoon.

“So…what do you say, darling?” He leaned in closer, almost touching his forehead to yours.

“Do we have a deal?~”

You raised a brow at his words.

He chuckled then.

“Ah, I apologize for my poor choice of words. What I meant was: May I have the honor of courting you, my dear?”

Your eyes softened and you smiled up at him.

“Yes, darling.”

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

ok. masking. let’s go.

[plain text: ok. masking. let’s go]

(specifically masking in autism - there probably other disabilities this can apply to but no guarantees. so only write what know, aka autism)

to simply it a bit, personally see two part to masking:

1. ability to mask

2. whatever struggle/thing, can be masked

1. ability to mask

it a skill that depends on many other skills

think most people will able see it as ability to suppress behavior & instead do something else (to appear more “socially appropriate”). like stop body from stim & instead sit very still. stop self from say something that may be rude or blunt n instead say it in more indirect way or say compliment instead. n it true, that is ability to mask

but ability to mask also depend on many other more basic skills, n because it basic, sometimes people forget they actually skill & others struggle with it, n instead see it as given, as nature, almost take for granted. before can do the thing in previous paragraph, other skills need have:

awareness of self - that you exist, awareness of what you doing

(n if able aware, also the ability control what you doing & impulse)

awareness of others - that they exist, that they have thoughts you not see

awareness of surroundings - that, you not just in own world

n, if have all of that, understand “need” or feel need or pressure for masking. at least some conscious or subconscious idea or feeling about what supposed to do & what not supposed to do. n ability to remember it. ability act on it. (all related but separate skills.) some autistic not able explicitly name it or tell you, but have internal sense of “this feels wrong even though don’t know why,” & that still allow them to mask

n many others am forgetting at moment

2. whatever struggle/thing, can be masked

think people forget about this part often: that even if assume have expert ability to mask (#1), there some things that. just can’t be masked (at all, or cannot mask all of it). because they (for not have better word) so extreme, or simply cannot control

for example. there no way really mask fact am nonverbal (as in, cannot mouth talk at all. all the time). no matter what do, cannot just. mask n suddenly say mouth word (then wouldn’t be nonverbal).

n say this simplify because. real world much more muddy more nuanced than can be say in clear linear bullet points n equations. some times, is mixture of both. not that clear divide.

many level 3 / severe / whatever language they use for self / etc people, move their body all the time, make sounds all the time, grunts screams etc. not really able control it, because very significant sensory needs that come with their level 3 autism. n not able to control it, not know to control it. sometimes both.

or, like awareness of other people - if not able to, then can’t mask it (#2). but it also prerequisite skill to masking to appear more “socially appropriate”, so cannot mask if don’t have skill (#1).

*

so, get annoyed when level 1 (& sometimes 2) high masking autistics say difference between them n someone like me (cannot mask & level 2/3 nonverbal), just masking. that if they unmask,

masking often really negatively affect mental health. make you stressed, on edge, confused about who you are (it actually me or just my mask?). n sometimes it become so a part of you you cannot drop it. yes. and same time true:

B1. masking is protective. is coping mechanism. is for safety. or else wouldn’t start do it first place. you mask n spend that energy n put up with its cost because feel like on some level, would not be treat as well or with as much dignity & autonomy, will be bullied n hurt even more than already is. n for some (especially BIPOC), masking literal one of reason they alive, not wrongly convicted or suspected of crime because suspicious behavior, etc. something can be both protective & harm. it up to you decide if it worth it.

B2. high masking not always mean other people not able tell. high masking not mean you treated well all time or not get treated badly at all or not go through anything said in above paragraph. it just mean that. you would probably be treated even worse if not masking.

B3. ability choose to unmask (yes, even if hard), not same as not able mask at all (involuntary not a choice) in first place. able switch between mask n unmask, even more so. you at advantage some of us not have.

B4. like in B1, not everyone can afford unmask. n for every person like that, imagine there someone in similar situation, except they cannot mask (reason #1 or #2 or both). what will happen to them? what happens to them? what happened to them?

no, you wouldn’t be like us (who unable mask in first place because level 2/3 autism, high support needs, severe autism, whatever language we use) if you unmasked.

there also difference between unmasking & finding your authentic self & how you naturally act. n pretend to be like us, copying us, someone you not, by choosing to do stereotypically visibly autistic things because it make you feel more validated. that no different than mocking n faking. we not your cosplay. (yes this actually happens.)

n no, don’t mean anytime you hand flap you’re copying mocking visibly autistic people, or you picking up AAC device “even if you can speak” (but you struggle) is copying nonverbal people. understand this is process, that sometimes when mask so long not know what feel natural anymore who you are or aren’t anymore, so you pick up n experiment different things.

fundamentally, is it helping you? that should stay. is it make you become another person you aren’t, going in opposite extreme direction? that shouldn’t.

*

anyway.

a lot time you see people who not able mask, we level 2/3 / moderate & severe autism / higher support needs (etc language we choose for self), which make us not able do both #1 & 2 (both not have ability to mask, n have struggles that cannot be masked fully or at all). struggling with more “basic” stuff needed for masking like awareness of self others n surrounding, often happen together with other symptoms n struggles that too big or significant or severe to mask.

this why you rarely if ever see anyone like listed above who also appear high masking — even if we can mask, our struggles often too significant to be fully masked over. n many of us can’t mask, we not have prerequisite skills to mask

but, not all people who not able mask are higher level higher support needs higher severity.

sometimes some people may have some masking abilities (have some #1), but have struggles that cannot be fully masked (#2).

sometimes, they have struggles that many other high masking autistics can mask (have #2), but they have low or no masking abilities themselves (don’t have #1).

AKA—

not able mask =/= not always mean higher level higher support needs higher severity autism

lower support needs level 1 autistics =/= not always equal high masking

there lower support needs autistics level 1 autistics who low or no masking!

masking ability not always correlate with levels & support needs & severity!

wow that long winded. glad we got back to where started.

[do not debate severe autism & autism levels etc language we choosing for ourselves - if you don’t like it for yourself cool then am not talking about you]

[fluff-n-cookies]

DABI Warmup

Note: I haven't written in a hot minute, just a warm up to get back into the flow of things. This post is a platonic x reader.

Dabi is Reader's father, Reader has blue eyes like his. No use of Y/N

For those who don’t know, this post is related to these

Pt 1, Pt 2

---

Civiliains are silly, fickle little things.

They're ignorant, that's what they are. those were Dabi's, well, Touya's, exact thoughts as he smoked on the balcony. the cool night air stung at his bare arms and seeped into the fabric of his pajama shirt. it didn't matter much though, not when the bustling streets of Yokohama are still wide awake.

He chuckled at his own thoughts, a chuckle then turned into a strangled cough. Damn lungs.

He couldn't be the one to think of such things though, it wasn't right for him to belittle others for remaining ignorant when he himself had his own little civilian daughter who he had been keeping in ignorant bliss for her whole life.

He cannot be the one to talk when he had intentionally refused to talk about heroes with her, or even speak of his day at work with the league. he would immediately change the topic of conversation the moment it turned to heroes and villains.

Dabi flicked his cigarette over the side of the balcony, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweat pants to see what his daughter was doing.

she had fallen asleep on the couch, elephant stuffie in hand, curled up under her favorite blanket. the My Neighbor Totoro one that was only 2 USD at their regular thrift shop.

she was a toddler by now, she had been watching him smoke on the balcony to give into his nicotine addiction since birth at this point. he would always set her down on the couch with a cartoon on and a bunch of stolen toys so she wouldn't get bored. he would then watch her from the other side of the glass sliding door that separated the balcony and living room.

it always felt a tad bit wrong though, to leave her alone like that, but addiction calls, it's hard to resist, I guess.

You know what's sillier than civilians? being a father.

it means having to wake up at the butt crack of dawn to get your daughter dressed and ready. I means having to help her choose the dress she wants to wear today and then consoling her when she can't choose, gets to overwhelmed, and cries until you bribe her with ice cream.

it means stashing her school pictures and drawings in a little shoe box under the sink because you don't have the heart to throw them away and you can't afford anyone suspecting you have a daughter if they see her picture in your stolen wallet.

it means downloading Disney and Studio Ghibli movies from a pirating website for movie night the next day. despite knowing full damn well that she'll probably fall asleep half way through and never bother to finish the movie.

Silly, so silly.

so silly and so fun to be able to ignore the pain and suffering in this world and just focus on helping her finish math homework. (the first question was 2 + 3) and then making her favorite food for dinner because she got an A+ on her spelling test.

Maybe being a civilian isn't all that bad.

---

Tags ; @red4-0 @likethegardenyk @suktoru @blurryperrtymoonlight @harkenizalone @lostiolite @rllytriedrn @mellyxqz @cupkiki @xxnessinessiellexx @dehlieee @mossysoup @ijwsbdinp @byul9158 @suksatoru @ssetsuka @savatar-de-mordor @justanotherweeb666 @frog-fans-unite

figured you guys might like some updates.

[knight-a3]

Heavenbound AU

Masterpost

Husk

Design notes and headcanons under the cut

Husk always struck me as the type that should be more stocky and broad. And he should have a beer belly, since alcoholism is a significant character trait of his. He's a fat cat. He has a few grey streaks in his hair to hint at his age. His clothes are more tattered to represent both his loss of power and his deal with Alastor. And his colors are duller after he lost his overlord status.

Older versions of his character portrayed him as a magician, and I really liked the idea of him using his magician skills to cheat at cards, which is why he got into gambling.

Generally speaking, his canon design is too busy and I simplified it. I didn't really understand why he had wings. Thematically, there's no reason for it and they overcomplicate the design. Instead, I gave him a magician's cape to reference his magician background. His hands are white to resemble the gloves magicians wear. The shirt helps to separate his dark fur from his pants, so they don't blend together too much.

He has card suit symbols integrated into his design. I didn't think to add a shirtless version here(if I get around to it, I'll update this with one), but he does have a spade pattern on his chest. You can see the tip of it around his collar. His nose is shaped like a heart, his tail has a diamond shape, and the paw pads on his hands and feet are clubs.

Human-

He was born in 1907 and died in 1975 at age 68 from liver failure. It's popular for people to design him as black, but I headcanon him with either Slavic or Jewish Russian ancestry. He's lived in the US his whole life though. The chipped tooth sorta just happened and I liked it. It kind of resembles his demon form's cat teeth.

He became a magician and used his skills in sleight of hand to cheat at cards. He became involved with a gambling syndicate in Las Vegas. And he was a heavy drinker(hence his eventual liver failure).

Is he a war veteran? Lots of people headcanon Husk as a Vietnam War veteran. But I'm not sure that works very well. At least, not with my headcanons. The draft for Vietnam went on between 1964-1973. Husk would have been 57 in 1964, and the number of Baby Boomers meant the draft could make more exceptions than in previous wars. So Husk was not involved with Vietnam.

But the draft for WW2 required all men 18-64 to register between 1940 and 1946. There are a few nuances, such as the required ages being narrower at the beginning of that time, but they ultimately don't matter here. Husk was in his 30s through the entire draft period. So unless he had a reason to be exempted, or he dodged the draft, he was probably going. But Husk doesn't actually strike me as a shell shocked veteran. So I'm leaning toward him being a draft dodger.

Syndicat the Gambling Overlord-

While doing Mafia research for Angel Dust, I came across a mention of gambling syndicates in Las Vegas. I realized it fit Husk's background, and decided his name before Husk could be Syndicat. I thought the cheesiness of it wasn't out of place. So here we are.

His magician life led him to gaining magician(mostly cards) related powers. He gambled for souls and won his way to Overlord and ran a gambling syndicate. But he got cocky and others started to catch on. They did different types of gambling that didn't involve things he could easily cheat in. He started losing bets, and he was too proud and addicted to cut his losses. Plus, he was the Gambling Overlord, he couldn't stop gambling!

Eventually Alastor showed up and challenged him to Syndicat's specialty: poker. The offer was practically too good to be true. They were gambling all the souls they owned(their own souls were implied to be included). If Syndicat won, he'd have the collective power of Alastor's souls. If Alastor won, Syndicat would still be allowed to keep his existing power in exchange for servitude.

Alastor was a top tier Overlord, and owning the Radio Demon would surely catapult Syndicat to the top! He thought he had this in the bag. But Alastor has an inscrutable poker face, magic of his own, and his soul isn't even available to be put on the table. Syndicat predictably lost, and his overlord status was officially gone.

It hadn't really mattered either way. The whole thing was rigged. Alastor's soul was never going to be Syndicat's, and Alastor had clawed his way to Overlord in record time(He took less than a week to orient himself, killed his first overlord, and that was it). So even if he lost, it wouldn't take long for the Radio Demon to be back in full force. He could have just destroyed Syndicat and gotten everything back anyway.

The Husk:

Alastor dubbed him a husk of his former self and kept calling him either Husk or Husker. Husk felt too sorry for himself to care, and decided the name fit. (He doesn't hate "Husker" any more than he does "Husk". In the pilot, he was just annoyed at being magicked away from his poker game)

As far as Overlords go, Alastor wasn't actually all that bad to work for. Husk had actually been a crueler overlord to his underlings. For the most part, Alastor let him carry on as before. Husk gambles for cash and drowns himself with more booze than ever before, but he can't gain or lose power while Alastor owns him. Alastor could bother Husk at any given moment without warning and drag him to do whatever, but it would sometimes be months or years between his summons(seven years was significantly longer than normal, but Husk never thought much of it until after). Alastor is mostly just manipulative, confusing, and condescending. He didn't try to hurt Husk, and rarely even threatened to. Husk was still going to be grumpy about it though.

(update notes will go here if needed)

[nightxcreature]

Hurt so good.

Summary: After the reader makes a comment about missing Dean’s leather jacket and the old days, he takes matters into his own hands and takes her on the hunt of her life.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, dark romance, hunting, p n v, all the things.

This is not the way I thought this fic would go, but here we are.

My first entry for #Jackelsversebingo2024! 🥳 This one is based on the prompt ‘Camping’ and I have no idea how I came up with this based on that. It’s smutty, it’s a little dark, and it’s got a brief appearance of early season’s leather jacket. 🤗 I loved writing this one, and I hope you enjoy reading it! I guess this could also be classified as Kinktober, but I’m not involved in one of those. 🤣

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Fluorescent lights flicker above my head as I rifle through the dryer, separating my clothes from Deans and folding as I go. He’s never separated clothes, not that he didn’t know how, he just didn’t care to; so it was always up to me or Sam to go through them and make sure nothing was ruined. I slide my arm back in and grimace as I feel the rough leather of one of his new jackets. Slowly pulling it out I can already tell that it’s about two sizes too small at this point; I toss it, along with the rest of the clothes, into the basket and grab a few extra hangers before heading up to our room to finish putting everything away.

“Dean!” I call as I ascend the stairs to the library, “I’ve got some bad news.”

I hear him rattling around in the kitchen, ‘Small Town’ by John Mellencamp softly playing through the little speaker above the door, “Bad news?” He roughly replies, “What do you mean?”

His head peeks around the door of the fridge as I set down the basket and wrinkle my nose, holding up his jacket, “You put this in the dryer.”

He runs a hand across his face and sighs, “Shit.”

“To be honest though,” I start, a slight smile playing at the corners of my lips, “This one isn’t nearly as nice as the one you had when we first met. That one was always my favorite.”

He raises an eyebrow and grins as he shuts the fridge door, “The brown one? That was my dad’s, I don’t even remember the last time I wore that.”

“The day Sammy came back from hell and we met your grandpa.” I blurt out, eyes widening and a blush creeping up my neck as his eyes snap to mine.

“Excuse me?” He gasps, a chuckle escaping him, “Did you just recount, in detail, the last time you saw me wear that jacket?” He takes a few steps toward me and I back slowly out the door. His normal baritone drops what feels like an octave as he whispers, “Did that jacket do something for ya, Darlin’?”

“I-I just-I liked it, and sometimes I miss the days when-when it was just you, me, and Sammy on the road, ya know?” I stutter out and snatch the basket of clothes out of the floor, “It’s-it’s not like I think about the jacket…or-or you in the jacket…”

He shakes his head, rubbing his face again and grins, “Sure, Sweetheart. I miss those days sometimes, too.”

“I’m gonna, uh, finish this.” I nod toward the basket and book it down the hallway, leaving Dean to his thoughts and me to hide in my embarrassment.

A few days later, I’m laid up on the bed with a new book, relaxing during an unusually slow day at the bunker when my phone lights up with Deans name.

‘Meet me in the garage, pack a bag. Got a case.’

‘Didn’t think we had any leads at the moment?’ I send back and grab my duffle from under the bed, stuffing it full with extra clothes and supplies. I sling the bag over my shoulder and grab my phone as another message comes through.

‘Not Chuck related.’

Weird, but not unusual. We could use a run of the mill hunt after everything Chuck’s been throwing at us lately. I shove my phone into my pocket and follow the rumble of the Impala into the garage.

“What did you two get tired of—.” I’m stopped dead in my tracks as Dean turns to face me from the drivers side of the Impala, leather jacket and black tee layered on his torso, Metallica’s greatest hits blasting through the speakers, and the box of his cassettes and 8-tracks sitting beside him. His face is clean shaven and his hair spiked up a little on his head, the only difference is the little aging in his face. If I didn’t know any better I would assume we had spun back in time to 2005.

“Dad’s on a hunt, and I need help looking for a Wendigo,” He nods at the seat next to him and I slowly set my duffle down in the floorboard, “You coming or not?”

Nodding, I sit down beside him and shut the door, trying to stay in character, “Couldn’t get Sammy to help out on this one?”

He snorts and shakes his head, “You know he’s too busy getting a fancy education so he can get me out of trouble.”

I laugh and nod again, “He’s got a lot of learning to do then.” pointing toward his jacket I smile and break for a moment, “Where did you find that?”

“Find what?” He asks, wrapping an arm around the seat and backing out of the bunker, “My jacket? I’ve had this thing for years, Sweetheart, I’d never lose it.” He winks and peels off into the afternoon.

A slight chuckle leaves me and I look out the window, “Where are we headed? Did you bring the map?”

He swaps the tape out, setting the box in the floor before pulling me closer as the intro to ‘Whole lotta Love’ fills the cabin, “Don’t need a map, I know exactly where we’re going. You just sit back and relax.” He places his right arm around my shoulders and I lean into him, the smell of the leather overwhelming my senses, “You gonna sleep? It might be while. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to rest up before we get there.”

I nod and doze off for a while not even feeling the car roll to a stop several hours later. Sunlight warms my cheeks and I stretch, opening my eyes I burst into laughter at the scene in front of me.

“Did you recreate the Wendigo hunt we went on back when we were looking for your dad?!” I exclaim, hopping out of Baby and staring at the tents set up around me, “You’ve really outdone yourself, Dean Winchester.”

He awkwardly rubs the back of his neck and sweetly smiles, “I was thinking about it after you mentioned liking the jacket so much and I’ve been missing the ‘monster of the week’ hunts. I thought it’d be fun to pretend for a little while.”

I return his smile and nod toward the bag beside the tent in the back, “Are we really hunting a Wendigo or do you have something more fun than a flamethrower packed in that bag?”

“Is there anything more fun than a flamethrower?” He questions with a shit-eating grin, “I have a lot of things planned for this weekend…and hunting a Wendigo is not one of them.” He stalks toward me slowly and reaches a hand into his jacket, pulling a rope and a black bandana out of the pocket, “But I do plan on hunting you.”

My jaw slightly drops and I take a step backwards, “This is not where I thought this was going.”

He sends me another sweet smile, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I do keep track of the books you read…and this does seem like a theme they follow. If it’s not the kind of hunt you had in mind though, I’m sure I can find something else.”

He shrugs coyly and begins to turn away before I jump and grab his arm, “No!” I can see the smile on his face as he turns back to face me, “I-I mean, no. This is fine. This is…great, actually. I am more than willing to do...this.” My feet shuffle beneath me and I can feel the anticipation in the air as he stares at my face, checking for any sign of hesitation.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He says as he shrugs off the jacket, his black tee stretching deliciously across his chest as he reaches up to tie the bandana around his face, “Run.”

My heart leaps into my throat and I freeze, “Now? The suns still out, that’s too easy…”

“Run.” He says again, picking up a knife I didn’t even know was sitting on the small cooler beside us.

“Dean, this feels like something we should do at….”

“Run!” He yells, stepping quickly toward me and I take off into the trees.

In my race to hide I realize that I have nothing but my cellphone with me, no food or water, and nothing to signal to Dean that I need help if I end up in a complicated situation. As if this isn’t a complicated situation already. The first place my mind goes to hide is higher ground, but Dean knows my mind just as well as I do, so I scan for somewhere lower and spot a small hole in a tree trunk just big enough for me to fit through. Sliding in, I shimmy my way up and into the trunk, listening intently for any sound that Dean was close by.

My phone begins to buzz in my pocket and as I dig it out I try not to laugh as I notice Dean must’ve taken my phone while I slept because his contact photo has been changed to Ghostface.

I quickly swipe right and put the phone to my ear, “Oh, please don’t kill me Mister Ghostface. I want to be in the sequel.”

A dark chuckle comes from the other end of the line and I hear him suck in a breath, “Tell me where you are and I won’t have to.”

“No way.” I breathe out, “You’ve gotta catch me.”

The snap of a twig comes from outside of the tree and I feel my heart plummet, “I don’t think you picked a very good spot.” He whispers, knocking softly on the tree trunk, “Do you?”

A hand suddenly slides through the opening of the trunk and wraps around my ankle, pulling hard enough to make me lose my balance landing me on my ass, “Got’cha.”

I pull on my foot and panic sets in as I realize he isn’t letting up. His other hand wraps around my other leg and one hard pull has me out in the open air.

Dean wags a finger at me, his green eyes sparkling, “I know you can hide better than that. I taught you better.”

My brows furrow and I set my jaw, “Speaking of which, how hard are we playing?”

He raises a brow and I see the bandana twitch as he smirks, “No holds barred, Darlin’. Do what you need to get away, it’ll make it more fun when I catch you….again.”

“Good.” I raise a leg and stomp on the hand still holding my ankle in place. He yanks his arm back, cursing, and I scramble away back in the direction of camp, “Catch me if ya can!”

I find another tree with branches low enough that I can swing onto and pull myself up high enough that I can see below me and for a few feet surrounding the tree. My phone rings again and I put it to my ear, hearing Dean’s gruff voice before I can answer.

“That wasn’t very nice.” He spits out, “Are you hiding better this time?”

“You didn’t say I had to play nice.” I whisper, “I think I’m hiding quite well, thank you.”

I sit on the branch with my back toward the trunk of the tree, keeping my knees to my chest in case they dangle and he sees me, “Are you coming to get me?”

“Maybe I already found you.” He whispers back, “Maybe I’m looking at you right now.”

“What are you gonna do when you catch me?”

“When?” He replies, and I can hear the smirk on his face, “Giving up so easily?”

“No, just curious.”

“You’ll find out soon.” The line suddenly goes dead, and I quiet my breathing, as if he could hear it from the ground. The birds and the sound of the creek below are the only noise surrounding me and I chance leaning over to see if he’s anywhere close by, slamming myself back quickly when I see his bandana clad face in the tree next to me. After a moment I realize he must’ve missed me and I chance leaning around again, when a hand wraps around my throat from behind.

“How do we keep meeting like this?” He grunts cockily into my ear, “It’s like you want to be caught.”

My heart is in my throat as he pulls me to him, “I’m going to help you down,” He whispers, one hand on my throat, his thumb and forefinger on either side of my jaw, the other hand on my ass, “Are you going to run?”

I shake my head dumbly and blink, “No.”

“Are you going to hit me?”

Another shake of my head, and he slowly helps me to the forest floor, “Now what am I gonna do with you?” He wraps a hand in my hair and pulls me to my feet, “You did try your best, didn’t you?”

“Uh huh.” I nod, frantically looking for someway to get out of his hold this time as he drops his hand to my jaw again.

Leaning down and he pulls my face up to his, “Your best just wasn’t good enough, was it?”

I smile sweetly and grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer and then abruptly shoving him away. Losing his balance, he curses again as I take off running. He scrambles to his feet and lunges to tackle me to the floor, we roll for a few feet before I pin his arms above his head, my knee on his chest.

“Who’s catching whom?” I smirk as I stare down at him, “This isn’t going the way you thought, is it?”

The bandana moves again, the hint of a smile in his eyes, “Sweetheart, this is exactly what I had planned.” His knee finds its way underneath mine and we’re suddenly rolling once more, him pinning me and straddling my hips, “Now, are you going to stay still?”

I nod, my heart in my throat once more, as his hands make their way slowly down my body to the hem of my shirt.

��•••••••••••••smut below the cut•••••••••••••••

He lifts the fabric above my head, throwing it to the side, and pulls the rope from his belt loop, wrapping it loosely around my wrists, “Tighter.” I whisper, watching his eyebrows raise before he pulls the knot tight against my skin.

His hands slide down my torso and he slowly slides my jeans down my legs, “Should’ve had you run around like this instead.” He whispers, biting his lip, “Would’ve caught you the first time.”

I blush and bite my own lip, as he rakes his eyes over my body, “Jesus, you’re so beautiful.”

He grips my jaw tightly, dropping the bandana to his neck and pulls me into a searing kiss, his tongue dancing over mine. I strain against the ropes on my wrists, lifting my arms to place my hands in his hair, “No.” he gruffly says before pinning my arms down again, “Don’t touch me.”

I groan, but his lips are on mine again before I can complain and any arguments fly out the door as he lays his body across mine and pushes his hips into me.

“Dean.” I moan, raising my hips to meet his, “Please.”

“Please what?” He asks, and I can feel the smirk on his lips as he runs them down my throat, “What do you need, Baby?”

My legs wrap around his waist and pull him roughly into me again, and he grunts as I sink my teeth into his throat, “Please, Dean.”

He moans again and slides a hand down my waist, “I love it when you beg.” He sinks his thumbs into the waistband of my panties and slides them down my legs before unhooking my bra and helping me stand.

“Now you.” I bat my lashes and he flashes a smile my way before reaching behind me.

“Got something else for ya, first.” He pulls a duffle bag over and takes the old brown jacket out, laying it out on the forest floor, “Lay down. Put your head on it, not above it.”

I do as he instructs as he takes his own clothes off and finds his way in between my thighs again, and slowly runs his hand over himself. I blush as he stares at me again, one hand around himself, the other around my throat as he brings me up to him in another kiss.

“I love you.” He whispers against my lips and pushes me down onto the leather again, before reaching below and feeling the wetness building between my legs, “All that because I chased you through the woods like a maniac?”

“All that because I know you’d never really hurt me.” I reply with a moan as he sinks a single finger into me.

“Oh, I’m gonna hurt you, Baby.” He grins as he adds another finger and runs his other hand across my breast, tugging and pinching at my nipples, “Hurt you so good.”

He slides his fingers out of me and shoved them between my lips with a groan before grabbing the rope above me and flipping me to my stomach. Lifting my hips, he lines up with my entrance and slams his hips into mine, pulling moan after moan from my lips as he rocks into me.

“Good girl,” He groans out, “Yell as loud as you want, no one’s coming to help you.”

His hand wraps around my throat and pull me flush against his chest as his other hand slides across my stomach to rub circles on my clit, “Are you gonna cum for me?”

“Uh huh. Yeah.” I whisper, breathily, “Gonna cum for you.”

“Then do it.” He grunts out as he runs faster, “Wanna feel you squeeze the life outta my cock. Wanna cum with you.”

The mix of his words and the sensations overwhelming my body send me directly over the edge, my eyes roll back and I go limp in his arms, feeling his hips stutter to a stop shortly after. He pulls himself out of me and spins me slowly to face him as he cradled my face, placing a sweet kiss to my lips.

“That was awesome.” He breathes out with a grin, “We should do that once a month.”

I laugh as he places the jacket around my naked shoulders and pulls his pants up around his waist, “Yeah, next time you can keep the jacket on.”

He winks and pulls me toward our camp, “We’ll see. You wanna rest, eat a s’more, and then maybe I’ll let you chase me through the dark.”

“Didn’t you tell a cop one time that you don’t get trapped in the woods with people, people get trapped in the woods with you?”

“I’d make an exception for you.” He says with a grin, tugging me close to him and kissing my temple, “I love you, Pretty Girl.”

I smile against him, “I love you, too.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N: I was not sure how to end this so I hope that’s satisfying enough. My first time writing smut e v e r. I enjoyed this one, I hope you did, too! 🫶🏼

Tag list: @lmhf1

[justwinginglife]

Growing Pains

25 Days of Simpmas: Day Fourteen December 14th: Satoru Gojo, Rank 12 Anime: Jujutsu Kaisen Event Masterlist

Guys, don't hate me for putting Gojo so low on my list, okay? LOL. I do really love this fic though, I feel like it could be a whole series, honestly. I had the best time writing it, so I hope yall enjoy!

“Smells like trash, must be a Zenin nearby.” 

Gojo pretended to examine his surroundings, peering over his sunglasses as he sniffed the air. His eyes finally landed on you. 

You flipped him off, retorting back, “Smells like shit, must be a Gojo with his head so far up his own ass.” 

He grinned, amused. “Now, now, is that anyway to treat your fellow co-parent?”

You scoffed. “You started it, dipshit. Now, where’s the kid? It’s my weekend.”

“The kid is not a kid, and he’s sick of you two doing this every week. You know everyone else can hear you guys, right?” Megumi appeared from behind, hoisting his bag onto his shoulder as he jerked his thumb towards the high school, where all the other students were watching curiously from the windows, whispering to each other “Fushiguro’s folks are at it again.”

While you had no direct relation to Megumi and Gojo had no relation at all, you’d both retained this arrangement with each other ever since Megumi was a child. Although you came from separate clans, and lived completely separate lives, somehow, after catching wind of Megumi’s cruel fate, you’d both had the bright idea to swoop in and save him. Maybe you were sympathetic, or maybe you both just had savior complexes, but either way, before he knew it, Megumi had gone from having no parents at all to having two eager, adoptive parents. 

And they both loved him to pieces but they were constantly at odds with each other. 

Gojo frequently doubted your intentions, wondering why a Zenin -and a high ranking one, no less- who’d never been interested in Megumi before was suddenly playing mom in his kitchen. He assumed every act of kindness was a ploy used to ensnare the impressionable, young boy and chain him to the Zenin clan forever. What he didn’t realize was that you knew better than anyone the horrors of being a Zenin, and it was because you were a Zenin that you could protect him in a way that no one else could, even from your own family. So it didn’t matter that Gojo didn’t trust you- your intentions were important to no one else but yourself and you would stay true to them until your last dying breath. You would protect Megumi the way no one ever protected you. 

But even though it didn’t matter what Gojo thought of you, it sure drove you abso-fucking-lutely crazy the way he expressed his thoughts of you. 

You still remember one of the first weekends you’d spent with Megumi. At the time, you’d had no idea how to cook, having had servants to do the job for you your entire life, so you’d woken up well before dawn had even breached the sky just to attempt pancakes. By the time Megumi woke up, you’d finally managed to proudly present him with a stack of half decent food when Gojo burst in and scarfed down the whole damn plate, claiming it was for Megumi’s own safety, after all- you might’ve poisoned the dish. In revenge, you claimed that maybe you’d spread the poison across the surface of the plate too, maybe Megumi would die upon contact, so it was only fair that the plate be demolished too; you smashed the glass down on top of Gojo’s big, stupid head. And then, for good measure, you hit him with the frying pan you’d used to cook. Who knows? Maybe you’d poisoned the pan too. Unfortunately for Gojo, he had not yet mastered infinity. After that day, he had a bump the size of Japan on his head for a solid month and he cursed you every damn day that he was inflicted with it. Claimed it killed the vibe with the ladies. Good, you thought. Maybe one day you’d get around to killing him too. All in due time. 

But as much as Gojo drove you crazy, you drove him equally crazy. Once he’d been on a date and had forgotten that it was his turn to pick up Megumi. So, like any sane person would, you showed up to the date, with Megumi in hand, and wailed in front of the entire restaurant, “How could you do this to me?? How could you do this to our son?? And while I’m pregnant with your second child, too!! Oh, the horror, the betrayal, the heartbreak!! I’ll never love again!!” And after Gojo had glared daggers at you and then run off to explain to his fleeing date, you and Megumi simply enjoyed the most expensive dinner that money could buy and told the waitstaff to put it on Gojo’s bill. They were happy to do so. 

A decade later, and you were still butting heads and waging wars on a regular basis, only barely tolerating each other. But as the years went by, the two of you quickly learned that there was something even more troubling than your tiresome relationship: a teenager.

Though Megumi had never been the most in tune with or properly expressive of his own emotions as a child, it was still clear that he appreciated, valued, and even loved the family he’d found in you both, even as dysfunctional as it was. You remember when he used to insist that he didn’t need someone to tuck him into bed, scoffing and ridiculing the idea, but the minute you showed signs of neglecting this little step in his nighttime routine, he’d grumble that there was something wrong with the blanket or chide you for not properly checking his bed for bugs, and you’d smile and say “Oh, but of course,” and you’d perform your examination of his bed and then pull the covers over him, nice and snug. And it always made you laugh the way he’d egg Gojo on by calling him short, claiming that maybe that was the reason you weren’t very fond of him, or the reason he could never hold down a relationship for very long, but when Gojo would hoist him up on his shoulders to prove his towering height, you didn’t miss the way Megumi would smile slightly, enjoying his view from up high. 

And as much as you disagreed with Gojo, you knew this was the one commonality you shared. You knew he had just as many wonderful memories raising Megumi as you did and at the end of the day, even though he was a dick, even though he was a douche, he was still Megumi’s dad and you were still Megumi’s mom. You were partners. And you shared this love for Megumi. Which was why you both went absolutely berserk realizing that your son had now grown up, and had now grown detached. If you thought learning how to cook was hard or remembering when Megumi had to get to class or attempting to help with his math homework or continuously shopping for new clothes every time the boy grew -which was a lot- it wasn’t nearly as hellish as dealing with a teenager. You and Gojo were in complete, utter agreement on that. 

So now that Megumi was scowling as he chided the two of you for embarrassing him in front of all his classmates, you and Gojo now stood in total solidarity with each other, completely forgetting your previous feuds.

“Hey now, that’s no way to talk to your mother.” Gojo lightly karate chopped Megumi’s head. Megumi then slapped his hand away to which Gojo gasped in exaggerated offense. You rested your hand on his arm in support.

“Be nice to your father, you only have the one.” You reprimanded Megumi in Gojo’s defense. 

Megumi rolled his eyes. 

Gojo threw his hand out in exasperation, gesturing to Megumi’s snarky expression. “Do you see this kid- did he just roll eyes at us??” Gojo exclaimed, giving you a “The Nerve of Him” look, a look that you understood all too well. 

A decade of not being able to understand Gojo and all it took was one teenager to bring you together. Suddenly, you were able to understand his thoughts and feelings better than you ever had before. Suddenly, you understood him better than anyone else could ever begin to. And now you were starting to think that he was the only one who truly understood you too. You were in this parenting thing together. Soldiers in arms. 

“I’m not a kid and you’re not my parents.” Megumi grumbled, annoyed.

Gojo made several incoherent noises. 

“I know, I know. It’s like, we raise the kid and he’s not even grateful.” You shook your head in disbelief. “You know what, Megumi? If we’re not your parents, then maybe you can drive yourself back to the house, yeah? And after that, you can cook yourself your own dinner. How’s that?”

Gojo nodded emphatically. “Oooh, yeah, yeah, what she said!” Then he leaned over to whisper in your ear, “Genius idea, by the way.”

If you weren’t trying to appear stern, you might’ve laughed. You never thought the day would come that Gojo Satoru would side with you, let alone call you a genius. It was a nice change of pace. 

“Gojo literally taught me how to drive and you literally taught me how to cook. How is that supposed to be a threat?” Megumi crossed his arms, staring you down defiantly.

“You taught him how to drive??” You hissed at Gojo under your breath.

He threw his hands up in a panic. “Well who was the one who taught him how to cook?? Why would you do something like that?? Now he won’t need us!” He hissed back. 

Megumi rolled his eyes again.

“Would you tell him to quit doing that??” Gojo exclaimed.

“You’re his dad, you tell him!”

“Well you’re his mom!”

“-yeah, Uncle Geto? Listen, could I stay at your place tonight? They’re at it again.”

You and Gojo whipped around to face your teenage son who was now on the phone, very blatantly ignoring the two of you. 

“UNCLE GETO???” Gojo bellowed.

“Since when is he uncle? We can’t be mom and dad, but he’s uncle??” You questioned in shock. 

“Suguru, I swear, when I get my hands on you-”

You clapped a hand down on Gojo’s shoulder. “Let’s not be hasty, maybe it’s a one time thing. He is a teenager, after all, maybe he’s just doing this to get in our heads.”

Right as Gojo’s breathing began to even out again, Megumi continued, “Well if you’re busy, that’s fine, I’ll just call Aunt Ieiri.” 

“I’m sorry, WHAT?! Did he just call Shoko- Megumi, did you just call Shoko-” Your protests were drowned out by the sound of your car’s engine roaring to life. 

Megumi was stealing your car. Now he was driving away with your car. Now he was speeding in your car. Now he was disappearing around the corner. With your car.

“What just- did he just- where is he- what the-” You sputtered. 

Surprisingly, Gojo began to laugh. He laughed and he laughed and he laughed, and you thought he’d gone mad.

“Get it together, Gojo! Our kid just committed theft and is now on the run!” You smacked him on the arm.

“C’mon, we know where he’s going- Suguru’s or Shoko’s. Don’t be such a worrywart.”

You glared at the stranger who’d now materialized before you. You thought he’d understood you. You thought he was on the same page. As a matter of fact, he’d just been freaking out with you not TWO seconds ago! What was going on with him? Why was he now siding against you? You thought you’d finally come to an agreement for once in your exhausting relationship together. And you were finally liking it. You didn’t appreciate going back to your opposite sides of the fence again. “Oh, I’m the worrywart?? Who was the one that was just telling me that I shouldn’t have taught him how to cook, so that he would, ‘need us,’ as you so desperately put it??”

He laughed again, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I? But hey. Did you see the way he put the car in reverse? The lil dude even signaled before he merged into traffic and took off with your car.”

You blinked. He… signaled? “Yeah… you’re right. Didn’t hit a damn thing. You… you actually -and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but- you taught him well.” 

He nudged your arm with his. “We taught him well. I was wondering why there were fresh tacos at the dinner table the other night. Suppose that was all your teaching.”

“T-tacos…? Yeah, I… I suppose it was.” You said quietly. 

God, Megumi was grown and you hadn’t even realized it.

He nudged you again. “C’mon. Don’t make that face, I don’t like when you get all sad. Let’s go get our kid, yeah?” 

You nodded and let Gojo lead you to his car. 

When you arrived at Geto’s place, Megumi was knocked out on the couch.

As the two of you watched him sleep peacefully, Gojo suddenly threw an arm around your shoulders, leaning some of his weight on you. For once, you didn’t mind. “Would ya look at that? He’s so tall now, he barely fits on Suguru’s lil sofa. Crazy.”

You nodded again. “So crazy. It’s like it was just yesterday that he was just begging me to cut his bangs.”

“I know, right? Can’t fit him on my shoulders anymore, that’s for sure.” Gojo laughed softly.

You grinned. “I mean, you could try. And hey, if he breaks a couple of your bones in the process, I won’t be too upset.” You teased. 

He rolled his eyes but laughed again, nonetheless. “How very cruel and very like you. But… you know. I’m starting to think you’re not all that bad, yeah?” He squeezed your shoulder playfully.

You snorted. “Oh, after ten years, I’m not that bad, huh? You finally think so, yeah? Well you’re only half decent.”

He chuckled. “Half decent, huh? I can work with that.”

You raised a brow. “Aaaand what are we working towards?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Dunno. You. Me. Megumi. One house. One family.”

Your eyes found the floor as your cheeks began to heat up. But you found the strength to speak. “We… we already are one family, like it or not.”

“I like it. I like it a lot. I like it more when you don’t hate me. When you’re laughing like that. When you’re blushing like that. When your-” He suddenly brought a hand up to his mouth to muffle his laughter, “when your eyes are half bulging out of your head because our kid just stole your car right out from under your nose. By the way, does that disqualify you as a sorcerer if even a teenager can get the better of you so easily?” He teased, nuzzling against your ear. 

You waved him away, retorting, “Need I remind you, that teenager got the better of you too, Mr. Special Grade Sorcerer. Not so great and powerful now, are you?” But after a moment’s hesitation, you finally muttered, “But I… I guess I like it too. The way you are. The way we are, or I guess, the way we’re getting to be. Took us some time to come around to each other, but we still made it here, all the same.”

His arm tightened around your shoulder. “Yeah. We finally made it to a good place.” He tilted his head towards Megumi. “He’ll make it there too. We took our sweet time, now we just need to give him some time. He’ll get there. After all, we did raise him. He’ll turn out just fine.”

You smiled softly. “You know, Satoru, you’re surprisingly good at this advice thing. Maybe you should be a teacher.”

He laughed.

“Me?"

"A teacher?”

“Maybe in another life.”

Taglist: @pixelcafe-network @minasfwoopyponytail @ouiouimochi @inkytypewriter

[november-rising]

This was supposed to be an ask for @thoughtfulchaos773 but it became something else…

I’m slowly going back through The Bear as I try to make sense of season three and my initial notes. The rawness and vulnerability and bare bones (season one) is what got me. Watching two people trust without trusting was foreign and needed in my TV watching landscape.

Season two was powerful but I didn’t understand why until season three. In hindsight it’s so obvious. As a Black female from the US, having a white male reorganize around your shared dream/goal is fantasy. To have this white male with all the accolades see and want you for your talent and who you are - for your fire…

That’s rarity.

And then you both endeavor upon a shared dream that is sidetracked by a white woman from his past - a safety blanket. A means to “heal” without trying. He’s searching and broken. And he had the privilege to hide and to be lost.

Sydney tried. She tried as all us Black women do. We shut it down. We shut it off. We cut it all away and deny ourselves in the necessity that is called preservation. Success. Some semblance of security.

Season two gave me hope. It gave Sydney hope. Even though this man with mental health and family trauma/trauma-response obligations, she had his acknowledged devotion.

And then the fridge. It was the summation of Carmy using anything (Claire) as a way to stay on the outside. Because, even though Syd and Carmy worked to grow, Carmy and Claire worked because of past hypotheticals.

They just work in the sense that Claire is easy. She is woven into a family he’s wanted but felt afraid to open up to - for valid reasons. This man has seen his older brother protect only to be sacrifice for the family. He found a way to survive and Carmy is living in his example - to survive and provide.

To me, this is the shift of season two and the dissonance I felt watching season three. It’s the progression of Syd and Carmy from togetherness to separation.

Syd was finding her footing and security in knowing that the most excellent CDC trusted her. She felt a sense of purpose in The Beef no matter the shenanigans. This Black woman was given some sense of control of the kitchen. Again, she was trusted. Season two, Carmy is out there processing his grief through Claire (a woman or feeling he attempted to avoid via fake phone number). Season Two, Sydney is out here, facing her fears and supposed failures, starting up another catering/restaurant venture with someone she thought she might be able to rely upon.

Season three ended with her trusting in this man who failed.

And he keeps failing.

Carmy is atoning through self-flagellation. Sydney is turning away to an apology that’s too late and too hollow. Too hollow because the last time someone attempted to apologize in this industry, it was performative. May it be the bank. May it be anyone at CIA. May it be clients prior to The Beef/The Bear. It was something people did for no reason but to assuage their own…whatever.

Carmy, at face value, was different to Sydney. Though an acclaimed white male, she felt heard. She was seen. But Carmy failed like all the others…and this time it hurts because she shared. She cared. Not with some idol but with a colleague and maybe more.

Season three breaks my heart. It’s two people in relation with each other, crying out but not knowing the radio station to dial into for each other.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

I realized recently that I think I’m a gay guy. It gets better, right? Your stories are so beautiful

It gets better. Give yourself grace and know there is no right way to be a gay man. There is nothing you have to do, have to like, have to be. Being you is enough. You don't need to change a damned thing, but I know you need time to acknowledge this. If you need a chat, my DMs are open.

cw: personal thoughts/experience below the cut.

I spent many years feeling ostracised and othered by both society and the community, because I didn't fit neatly into either. I was raised conservative, I'm from a working class background, slept on the floor in the same room as my sister as we fled DV, I found it almost impossible to relate to the queer community I found at first. Some of it all out repulsed me, and I had to wrestle with my own desires and how my sexuality manifested too; I felt like I couldn't be queer because I wasn't like "them" at all. It was a long road, but give yourself time and space. Sometimes your thoughts won't be "progressive" or "healthy", but you need to process them to overcome them.

But if it's societal/familial acceptance you're concerned about.

We are living at a time where fascism is resurging globally, but I think it is the last gasping breath of conservatism. A wounded animal lashes out when it's dying. There are people within our own community sabotaging other parts of it in hopes they will get picked/spared - log cabin republicans, Wes streeting, terf lesbians - but the vast majority of the community is pulling together.

Day to day, I live my life not just as part of the LGBT community, but as a loved and respected member of my wider community too, even if I have had to leave my blood relations behind. Four of my fellow SLT are lesbian, gay or trans. We are the teachers, the police (Ew), the civil servants, the shopkeepers, the mums, the dads, the chefs. We are not separate anymore, we are not other, no matter how much the media, the government, far right commentators, want that to happen. You have to have faith that normal people are good at heart. They always have been. You have to, or you're gonna go insane in the next four years.

My heart genuinely goes out to the LGBT community in America right now. Fascists are cowards though. If you stand up, they back down. They always have and they always will. Now is the time to fight.

[veritas-scribblings]

own - @bartylusmicrofic - words: 455

‘Reg,’ Barty sighs. ‘Reggie. Regulus. Rejulus. Regimas.’ He shuffles up the bed so he can tuck his head onto Regulus’s lap, staring up at Regulus with his best pathetically doe-eyed expression. ‘Babe. Baby. Darling. Light of my life. Fire in my loins…’

‘What!’ Regulus looks away from his textbook and down at Barty. Just half an hour ago, Barty had returned from the common room with an armful of sweets and a handful of galleons, his winnings from absolutely thrashing their housemates at Blackjack.

Barty cheats, Regulus knows, and has roped Evan into helping him. Well, not so much cheats as counts cards, because Barty and Evan will never pass up an opportunity to swindle their housemates. No one has picked up on it yet, though it is just a matter of time as Dorcas is already suspicious.

Barty dramatically sighs again and whines, ‘Pay attention to me, I’m bored.’

Across the bed, wrestling with a packet of pepper imps, Evan snickers and gives Regulus a look. It’s a look-look, a silent knowing communication understood only by them. One that Barty notices and immediately feels left out about. Barty shuffles closer to Regulus and prods him, all scowly and sulking and needy and demanding.

‘Evan…’ Regulus says slowly, raising an eyebrow to communicate: you are going to help me with this, arsehole.

‘Don’t look at me. I told you.’ Evan snorts. He shakes his head. ‘He’s your boyfriend.’

And Evan had told Regulus. Right after Regulus and Barty had first slept together and their dynamic had taken a very, very slight shift in a different (adjacent) direction, and Regulus and Barty had separately run off to Evan to talk about what had happened between them, Evan had ‘told’ Regulus. That Barty was Regulus’s ‘problem’. That most things Barty-related will now be handled by Regulus as Barty’s ’significant other’. Regulus had naturally thought this is all terribly unfair as they’ve shared the responsibility for the last five-or-so-years, but Evan disagrees. They’re growing up. It’s part and parcel, he had said, of the whole ‘shagging Barty’ nonsense.

‘He’s your friend,’ Regulus snaps.

Evan grins triumphantly when he manages to get the pepper imp packet open. He throws a couple at Regulus and Barty. ‘He was your friend first.’

‘First for all of five minutes. You’re meant to be my friend. What happened to loyalty?’

Evan has popped a pepper imp into his mouth. There’s smoke furling from his ears and nose and Regulus just can’t take him seriously like this. When he speaks, licks of fire escape between his lips. ‘You chose to shag him,’ Evan says. ‘He’s your problem now. I did warn you. Barty’s like a baby bird. He’s imprinted. There’s no getting rid of him.’

Barty sits up, scowling at both of them. ‘Well now I just feel fucking unloved. You’re all arseholes.’

[lemonlover1110]

𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 2] Visiting

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Pairing: Baseball Player!Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“He asked you to what?!” Shoko is absolutely bewildered when she hears the news that you have. She isn’t all that surprised about the fact that you had sex, she expected as much. However, she didn’t expect the man to ask for you to get married. She’s heard a lot about Toji, nothing was related to commitment and how loyal he is. They’re all rumors of course, but they all stem from somewhere. “Please tell me you rejected him.”

After your night with Toji, you find yourself in your best friend’s house. She’s in the kitchen, preparing herself a tea, and you’re with her, telling her about your date with the famous baseball player.

“I’m not in the plane with him, or am I?” You respond, a chuckle leaving your lips. Shoko squints her eyes before she tilts her head to the side. She doesn’t fully trust you. Her nails tap the granite counter that separates you two.

“What did you answer?” She has a serious tone of voice, and it almost sends a chill down your spine. It’s rare to hear her so serious. You take a moment to answer, and she repeats the question, even more serious than before, “What did you answer? Oh my god, please–”

“I told him I’d think about it.” You finally respond, and she slaps her palm on her forehead. She’s always viewed you as a smart woman, so why did the words that come out of your mouth sound like the most ridiculous thing you could possibly say? You’re not dumb enough to think about marrying an absolute stranger… Yet your response entertains that idea.

“No. Your answer should’ve been no because you two don’t know each other.”  Shoko tells you, and you click your tongue. Where’s the fun in that? You aren’t going to share your thoughts though, knowing it’ll lead to getting berated by the woman that’s in front of you. “I can’t believe you… What happened after that?”

“Well… We had sex again, we talked a bit, getting to know each other then we had sex again. After that we fell asleep and when I woke up, he was gone.” You say, and she sighs. She can’t say she’s disappointed, it’s your life and you do whatever the hell you want. She’s just in disbelief that this is happening. “Can you believe that he has a flip phone?”

“Don’t change the topic!” She raises her voice, but she thinks that maybe changing the topic is the best option. She doesn’t want to overstep. It’s your choice after all, if you want to fuck up your life, she can’t yell at you for it. She takes a deep breath to calm down, “You do what you think is best, baby. Marrying him isn’t a smart choice but I’ll support you no matter what.”

“I’m not marrying him.” You assure her, even though you don’t believe your own words. You just feel so drawn to him, and you’re enamored with him even if you just met. Maybe you’re confusing your feelings of attraction with something else. 

“I don’t trust you.” She answers. She hears the kettle whistle and she rushes to focus on that. At the end of the day, you make your own choices so she shouldn’t push the subject. You clear your throat before asking,

“Didn’t you have to tell me something?” You watch her pause as she tries to recall what she was going to tell you. You really caught her off guard with your news. Her eyes light up as she remembers, and a soft smile comes to her lips as you watch her cheeks turn a sweet shade of pink.

“I met the woman of my dreams last night, and best of all, she spent the night.” She tells you, and your brows raise. You should make a snarky remark but you bite your tongue, instead, you opt to listen. “She’s so perfect– I was so shocked she showed any interest in me but when I tell you I was over the moon when she approached me.”

“Do you have a picture of her? I want to see her.” You say, and she shakes her head in response. You watch as she pours the boiling water into a cup before she grabs a tea bag and dunks it in the water. “You got her number though, right?”

She stays silent. That’s your response. 

You’re about to reassure her, gathering the right words to say but it’s hard. You suck at comforting people. Just as you’re about to speak pathetic words, your phone begins to ring. You see a very familiar name which makes the biggest smile appear on your lips. You excuse yourself, walking away to answer the phone. You go to Shoko’s room and shut the door behind you.

“Hey, Toji.” You speak lowly so Shoko doesn’t hear that it’s him, even when she has an idea of who it is. You love hearing your name as he greets you, it sounds flawless when it rolls off his tongue. “Not that I mind but… Why are you calling? I don’t have a solid answer yet.”

“Just want to inform my pretty lady that I’ll be in her town next week.” Toji tells you, and a foolish smile comes to your lips at the thought of seeing him again. You smile even more stupidly when you realize that he calls you his pretty lady. It’s all so sudden, but you like it. You like him. Maybe not enough to marry him, not yet at least.

“Are you coming to visit me?” You ask him, and you’re nearly over the moon when he says yes. “Then I’ll wait for you here, we can do whatever you want when you’re here. You have my number, and I’m always available for you.”

“I’ll see you then–” Toji is about to say something else, but Shoko calls out your name and you hang up without a second thought. You act as if you’ve almost been caught doing something bad. You try to play it off as if you’re not doing anything, but Shoko doesn’t care enough. 

“Do you have any plans tomorrow night? Someone invited me to a birthday party and I don’t want to go alone.” Shoko asks, and you shake your head. You awkwardly smile.

“Let’s go out, that sounds like fun.”

You offered Toji to pick him up from the airport, and now you look around, searching for a tall strong man that’s nearly twice your size. You keep looking at the time, wondering if he’s off the plane yet. You check on your phone the time his flight is supposed to arrive, and you watch as luggage comes out from the conveyor belt, luggage from his flight. Maybe you should try to call him but his stupid flip phone is probably still on airplane mode.

“Where the hell are you?” You mutter, eyes hunting for the man. You’re being impatient, you just got here. You need to give him some time, he probably got off the plane and had to use the bathroom. You know that you’d feel self conscious shitting in an airplane bathroom.

You don’t like airports– At least not when you’re picking up someone else. Someone else that’s not all that easy to communicate with; you can still send him a text even if he has a flip phone, he’ll just take a little longer to respond. You decide to send him a text, asking if he’s off the plane yet. 

“Hey!” You hear his voice and your head darts his way. He’s comfortable, wearing a simple black t-shirt and sweatpants, yet he manages to look as hot as ever. You smile at him, and you walk towards him, rushing to him after taking a couple of steps. You wrap your arms around him, and it takes him by surprise but he hugs you back.

“It’s so nice to see you again.” You say, and it comes out muffled since your face is pressed against his chest. You let go, and Toji weakly smiles at you.

“It’s so nice to see you again too.” He answers, and he walks to the conveyor belt to get his luggage, and once it’s in his hands, you two begin to walk to the elevator that’ll take you to the parking lot. When you enter the elevator, his hand goes into his pocket and he waves the brand new device in front of your face, “Look what I got.”

“You finally got a normal phone.” You grab the phone from his hands, and you inspect it. It’s the newest model, the old man doesn’t know what to do with all of that. “Did you change your number too?”

“Nope. Still got the same one.” He answers as you open the phone’s camera. You extend your arm out and lean towards Toji, pursing your lips together and putting up a peace sign. Toji leans down so he makes sure he’s on camera, and you snap the picture. You hand the phone back to him.

“I look pretty in that picture, you should make it your home screen.” You tell him, and he furrows his brows as he unlocks his phone.

“How do you do that?” He responds, making you chuckle. You take the phone from his hand and change the generic wallpaper to the picture you took. You hand it back to him, a smirk on your lips. The elevator doors open, and he clears his throat, “So do you have anything special planned for us?”

“Not yet, but there’s a couple fun things we can do.” You reply, and he wonders what you have in mind, but he’ll allow you to surprise him. Even if he doesn’t like surprises. You get to the car and open the trunk so he can put his luggage inside. It feels awkward for him to get into the passenger seat of your car, but he has no option but to since he doesn’t know his way to your apartment nor around the city. You get into the car and you ask, “What do you want for dinner tonight? I can cook or we can go out to eat.”

“Hmm… Are you a good cook?” Toji asks, and you hum in response. At least you like to think that you are. You turn on the car and get out of the parking lot, starting the trip to your apartment. “I want to taste your cooking.”

“You can’t blame me if you get food poisoning though.” You joke, making him chuckle. He thinks you’re joking. He prays it’s a joke. You don’t want the car ride to be silent, you can’t let thirty seconds of silence go by before you ask, “How are your games going?”

“You haven’t been watching?” He replies. You haven’t. You’re sure he knows that you aren’t a fan of the game, and as much as you’d adore to watch as the man that sits next to you hits some balls and does whatever the fuck the game consists of, you really don’t get to see much of him on the TV. He’s the only reason you’d tune in to watch a game. 

“I’d rather do other things.” You don’t tell him what you’d rather do, he has an idea. Anything but watch the game. “Aren’t you going to answer the question?”

“The games are great. The team is doing great.” Toji keeps it vague, not wanting to bore you to death with something that you’re clearly not interested in. It makes you clear your throat and ask more about the topic, and he answers with more details. He’s clearly passionate about his job, so you’re entertained while you hear him talk. 

You smile at him when you’re at a red light, and he smiles back at you. You won’t get to spend too much time together, but you know you’re going to have fun. Maybe not enough to get you to marry him, but enough to almost convince you to say yes. Almost.

Toji settles into your apartment, and he makes himself comfortable immediately. It’s nice that he’s comfortable enough with you to do so. Toji likes the apartment, although it’s way smaller than the one he lives in– This place doesn’t compete with his home but it’s cozy. And at least you’re here.

“I’ll go take a shower, then we can talk about dinner.” Toji says, and you watch as he opens his suitcase to pull out some underwear. He walks away and opens some doors to figure out where the bathroom is, and when he figures it out, he locks himself inside. You close the suitcase and bring it to your room so it doesn’t take up the space in the living room. He isn’t staying for long, but the suitcase is filled to the brim, almost too heavy for you to carry. 

You almost find yourself in disbelief that he’s staying here, you thought that he’d never contact you again when you didn’t jump into his arms and squeal yes when he proposed. You did leave him uncertain though, leaving him with a bit of hope. You’re sure you’ll reject him again if he asks again.

“I need to see what I’ll cook tonight.” You talk to yourself, grabbing your phone to look up recipes. You try to think of what Toji ate when you went out together, and maybe you’ll look up something similar to make for him– But you also want to know what other food he likes. 

You decide to toss your phone to the side, you’ll be asking him what he wants for dinner when he gets out of the shower. You focus on your bed, smoothing out the comforter. Your usual unorganized room looks like one of a magazine since it’s where Toji will be sleeping for the time he stays at your apartment. You’re sure it won’t take long for the room to become disorganized again since Toji doesn’t seem like the type of person to be neat, even when he’s staying at someone else’s place.

You proceed to lay down on the bed, grabbing your phone. You become so engrossed in the small screen that you’re startled when Toji walks into the room. “So do you have an idea of what you want for dinner? I’m getting hungry.”

You look away from the phone and at him. Water droplets going down his half-naked body. From his chest to his abs all the way to his briefs. His stupid fucking briefs. You’ve never been more mad at a piece of clothing before.

“Did I forget to put out a towel in the bathroom? I’m sorry.” You apologize, trying to focus your eyes on his face rather than his body. But your eyes keep lingering on his well-toned torso– Damn him, he looks like a god. He notices, and he chuckles.

“My eyes are up here.” He tells you, and you mumble an apology. He smirks as he walks to his suitcase to grab clean clothes. “Not that I mind.”

“What do you want for dinner? I’m not sure what you like.” You ask, watching as he puts on another pair of sweatpants and another compression shirt– It’s fair to say that he’s not the man with the most creative fashion style but he still looks hot.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, and you laugh. You guess you’ll stick with something simple: white rice, steak, and a salad. If anything else pops up, you’ll make it but that’s what you’ll be sticking with right now. 

“Okay, but you can’t complain if you don’t like it.” You respond, standing up and walking out of the room and heading to the kitchen. You open the freezer to take the meat out to thaw, and then proceed to check what you have in the fridge. You call out his name, “Toji! Come here, you’re helping me!”

“I’m a bad cook.” He claims when he walks out of your bedroom. That’s not enough to convince you though.

“You can chop up some vegetables, you don’t have to be a great cook for that.” You respond and he exaggerates a sigh that almost makes you laugh. “You know what, you can do it later. Wait for the meat to thaw.”

“What protein are you cooking?” He asks, and you tell him. “I can help you with that.”

“Aren’t you a bad cook though? Wouldn’t want you to burn the steak.” You reply.

“I can do that. That’s as much as I can do.” He answers, and you decide to not answer. You’ll make him chop up the vegetables later. Now you’ll focus on putting the rice on the stove. You put a pot of water, salt and a bit of oil on the stove before you wash two cups of rice. Toji sits on your couch and grabs the remote to turn on the TV. “Do you have any baseball channels?”

“I think you can go through the channel guide to find something.” You answer. You almost ask him why he wants to watch baseball, if he isn’t tired of the game considering that’s his job. But it seems like he’s super passionate about it, so you won’t make a comment about it.

Once the rice is on low, you walk over to him and take a seat next to him. You watch the game that he has on and you try to act interested, but you find yourself yawning at the game. You rest your head on his shoulder while he focuses on the game, and he throws his arm over you. You act like you’re dating– It’s not something too crazy since he proposed on your third meeting.

“You still need to cut up the vegetables.” You tell him, and he hums in response. You look up at him, his eyes glued to the television. You sit in complete silence for a moment, trying to focus your attention on the boring game. His stomach growls, and for some reason that gives you the idea of what you’re going to be doing the next day. “Let’s have a picnic tomorrow.”

“A picnic?” He raises his brows, and you nod in response. He purses his lips together, thinking about it before he shrugs, focusing his attention back to the television. Why not? The weather is nice outside, you might as well. “Sounds good.”

“Were you thinking of something else?” You ask, standing up from the couch to go to the kitchen. Instead of leaving the salad to him, you begin to chop the vegetables since it’s more entertaining than what he has on TV. 

You and Toji end up cuddling for the night, Toji too tired to really do anything apart from a light makeout session. He wakes you up early, claiming he’s made breakfast even though the previous night he claimed he was a bad cook– He wasn’t exactly wrong since you wake up to the smell of overcooked/almost burnt eggs. You appreciate the toast, almost burnt scrambled eggs, and the pieces of fruit that are cooked too big nonetheless. 

It’s a sweet act, even though he leaves the kitchen a mess and you have to clean it up. Toji makes a couple of phone calls while you clean up, and he’s still on the phone when you’re finished. You assume he’s calling his son and whoever else, so you leave him alone to get ready for your date. You excitedly get ready, thinking about the cute date that you’ll have. You’ll stop by the convenience store and buy some snacks before stopping at the park. The weather is perfect for this sort of date. 

“You look beautiful.” Toji comments when you’re ready. You wear a strapless floral sundress and wear some light makeup that matches your outfit. You smile at him, going to your closet to grab the wedges that you’ll be putting on. You try not to focus on Toji as he undresses in front of you to get into the shower. It tempts you to ruin your makeup and get undressed to join him; you keep telling yourself that you can do that later. 

When you’re both ready, you leave with a tote bag that has a blanket, some snacks, and some necessary utensils. Toji follows you blindly, unsure where the park you’re going is headed. It’s clearly nearby since you opted out from driving. You stop at the convenience store to get some snacks that you’re sure he likes, and then you head to the park.

You put down the blue blanket on the grass, and you both take off your shoes before taking a seat on the cover. You begin to eat the snacks that you have, and you ask, “Who were you talking to?”

“Megumi.” He answers, making you tilt your head to the side and raise your brows. “My son.”

“Oh…” You reply, and for some reason you sound disappointed. Until a chuckle leaves your lips. His brows furrow, confused at the response, and you bite down your lip before you answer, “You asked me to marry you and I don’t even know your son’s name… It’s just funny to me.”

“Yeah… The proposal was just a spur of the moment thing.” He responds, and you feel your face get warm of embarrassment. You replied that you would think about it only to hear that it was a spur of the moment thing… You try to remind yourself that you were going to reject the proposal. He watches your reaction closely before he says, “The feelings still stand though, and if you want to get married right now, I’m willing to do it. Even though we have to learn a lot about each other.”

“Let’s get to know each other first before we even think about marriage.” You respond. You’ve been talking with each other on the phone whenever you’re available, and slowly getting to know each other from a distance. Not enough to actually get married though, since this is the first time you hear his son’s name. “If we make it to marriage.”

“Do you see yourself getting married?” He asks a question he probably should’ve asked before proposing. You nod your head in response.

“I always have. I’m just not in a rush.” You answer. Toji munches on some chips, and he extends his hand, offering you some. You take a handful. “You shouldn’t be in a rush either.”

“You’re right. If I rush it, it’ll end up as a third divorce.” He makes you laugh with his response, even though it wasn’t a joke. It’s odd to think that he’s gotten married twice before. Maybe you’ve talked to a divorced man once or twice, but not one that had gotten divorced twice, and certainly not one that’s semi-famous. His eyes fall on a father and son that play catch, and it brings him a weak smile. It probably reminds him of him and his own son. He comments, “The dad has a weak throw, that poor kid is not going to learn how to throw that ball properly.”

“Go help them out.” You’re joking but Toji takes it seriously. He stands up, and you open and close your mouth as you’re about to tell him that you weren’t being serious but he’s already approaching the duo. The little kid looks excited, a grin on his face as he notices Toji, and you can safely assume he’s a fan of the player.

It’s sweet to watch Toji grab the ball from the dad, and throw it back to the father a couple of times before Toji teaches the tricks he can to the boy. You wonder if he’s like that with his son. You know Toji doesn’t see his son all that often, and Toji calls him a deadbeat, but you want to believe he’s a great dad when he’s with his son. You wonder how their dynamic is and how often Toji sees him.

You watch as the kid runs to search for a marker, and you find yourself laughing. The father begins to talk to Toji, and Toji entertains the conversation. Toji signs the ball when the kid comes back with a marker, and the father ends up taking a photo of the two. Toji walks back and sits on the blanket, and you comment, “That was so sweet.”

“What can I say? I’m a sweet man.” He responds, and you both chuckle because you know it’s not true. You reach into the bag to hand him some more food, and as he takes it from your hands. You clear your throat, making his attention go to you, “What’s up?”

“What are your thoughts on having more kids?” You ask simply because you’re curious. Does he want more? Or does he not want to go through that journey once again.

“Hmm… Kids aren’t a dealbreaker for me. Either I have one more, or I don’t. But I do hope you know that if you want kids, I’m not going to be very present. My job keeps me busy.” Toji answers. You have some questions about it; whether that's the reason he and the mother of his son separated due to his absence. But you won’t dwell on it, it’s not the right time to ask. “Why do you ask? Do you want kids and it’s a dealbreaker?”

“Oh, I’m just wondering. You were just so lovely with that kid that I wondered if you wanted more or not.” You reply. You try to change the topic to something more playful since you feel like such serious matters kill the mood. “Have you gotten used to the phone? It looks like too much for you to handle.”

“What are you trying to say? That I’m too old for that kind of technology?” His brows are furrowed, and you laugh. You hum in response.

“You’re an old fart.” You affirm. “Well, more because you had a flip phone… Speaking of, did you change your phone because of me? Or am I giving myself too much credit?”

“No you’re right. I was insulted after you insulted my phone so I decided to get a new one. Apparently this is the latest model, that’s what I was told anyway.” Toji says, and he hands you the phone. “You can check any features that your phone doesn’t have. The password is 1222.”

“What are you trying to say? I’m too broke to get a phone like this?” You ask as you put in the easy passcode. It’s like he has nothing to hide which is nice.

“I am.” And it makes you roll your eyes. It really doesn’t have anything that’s much different from your phone other than the better camera. You toss the phone back to him, and while he is a great catcher, his life nearly flashes before his eyes. “Careful with the phone.”

“Sorry.” You don’t sound sorry though, but he’ll make you sorry later. 

You continue talking until your eyes grow heavy, and you both lay down for a moment. It’s supposed to be for a few minutes, but he brings you into his embrace, and the few minutes turn into a few hours.

You wake up to soft snoring, the weather outside much colder than earlier– The sun is no longer out, and you panic immediately. You sit up and check to see if everything is still there, and after verifying that you haven’t been robbed, you poke Toji. You poke him until he finally opens his eyes. 

“What?” He groggily wakes up, and the first thing he sees are the stars in the night sky. He sits up and asks, “We fell asleep for a little too long.”

“We did.” You respond, and you’re about to stand up, but he grabs your arm and pulls you back down onto the blanket.

“We’re already here. Might as well stargaze.” He tells you. You lay your head back down on his chest, and look up at the sky since you have no option but to. He’s holding you down.

“Aren’t you hungry?” You ask him. The sky is clear tonight, and you can luckily view many stars in the sky. You would admire it if you weren’t a little confused after waking up outside. Luckily Toji forces you to admire it.

“We can go get something quick in an hour or so. We’re okay.” He assures you. Your ear is pressed against his chest, and you listen to his heartbeat which soothes you. You slowly calm down and admire the night sky. “I’m leaving tomorrow night.”

“Don’t remind me.” He’s no longer forcing you down so you sit up. You love spending time with him, you wish your time with him wasn’t so short lived. You wish at the very least you could meet up for coffee twice a week, and go on a fancy date on a random Saturday. You pout your lips, and he sits up as well.

“I’ll come to visit again.” He cups your face and presses his lips on yours momentarily. Your hands go over his, forcing him to keep his warm palms on your cold face. His lips fall on yours again, but this kiss is more passionate. His tongue enters your mouth and presses against yours. You let go of his hands and they move down from your face to your waist. 

You get on top of him, knee on either side of him as the kiss deepens. He’s feeding your hunger, and you have no idea why you’re so touch deprived. Maybe it’s because he was teasing you the previous night and the entire week you were working yourself up at the mere thought of him. This man does the unbelievable to you. 

“Toji…” You feel a soft breeze spread goosebumps on your skin, and it reminds you of where you’re at. You’re not fucking in a park– He shouldn’t even think about that, he’s somewhat famous. People know him. People would know you if anyone recognizes him and takes pictures. He pecks your lips a handful of times when you pull away, and you have to say, “Not here.”

“Huh? Why not?” He asks as you get off him. You stand up, and lend your hand so he can get up more easily. It hits him a little late, when the blood rushes from his dick back to his brain. You can’t risk getting caught. The rush is fun, but a few minutes of pleasure isn’t worth the risk of the consequences. Plus, you have a bed back home where you can do whatever you want. “Bad idea. You’re right.”

“Acting like a horny teenager for me, don’t forget I have an apartment and live alone.” You point out, making you both laugh. He laughs more in embarrassment than anything. You begin to pack everything in the tote bag. When your shoes are back on, you begin the walk to the convenience store again, ready to get something quick for dinner. 

“You know, I can fly you out. You can watch my next game and then we can spend a whole week together.” Toji offers, and a smile comes to your lips at the idea. You can ask for a week off since you have a lot of vacation days leftover. Your arm intertwines with his, and you lean on him as you walk to the store.

“I like that idea. It sounds like a lot of fun.” You respond. You think to yourself how if he were to propose right now, you’d gladly accept. But luckily, Toji isn’t as stupid as he was that night. You find yourself weak for him when you hear a low laugh from him and he kisses the top of your head, assuring you,

“It’s a date then.”

[stiltonbasket]

stilton I love all the sv fics you've been posting lately 🥺 will you be posting more in the future?

I have two multichapter SVSSS WIPs (A Wife by Any Other Name and my ongoing LOTR-inspired Bingqiu fic), and I plan to post around six more oneshots for the SVSSS Gotcha for Gaza. After that, though, my SVSSS writing days will likely come to an end! :')

I do have a Qijiu age gap AU in the works; but my (countless, at this point) MDZS projects take priority, so this one might not ever see the light of day. I've attached a few scenes below the cut, in case anyone is interested. <3

Short background: in this AU, Yue Qingyuan and Shen Jiu met when they were fifteen and five years old respectively, when YQY (then a kitchen slave) took little Shen Jiu off the streets and hid him in an abandoned wing of his master's manor. They were separated when SJ was discovered, and Yue Qingyuan was badly beaten and thrown out of the estate while Shen Jiu managed to escape and ended up being sold to the Qius a few years later. When they reunited at the Immortal Alliance Conference, YQY had been Qiong Ding's head disciple for nearly a decade and had just earned the right to accept disciples of his own, so SJ became YQY's disciple and went back to Cang Qiong with him.

Shen Jiu later realizes that he and SY!SQQ (head disciple/future peak lord of Qing Jing) are brothers; the following scenes mostly concern his relationship with Shen Yuan.

scene 1, set shortly after Shen Jiu comes to Cang Qiong and discovers that he and Shen Qingqiu are related:

This soft-eyed, fair-faced fool—he could never have lived through the trials Shen Jiu and his Qi-ge had endured, no matter how strong his cultivation, or how fine his calligraphy, or how well he swayed the hearts of men to bow to his every whim—

“Oh,” Shen Qingqiu murmurs, his voice full of such pain that Qi-ge makes a sound of distress behind him. “Of course. They must have had another child after they sold me away.”

Shen Jiu stares. “What? You were…”

“There was a drought in the second-to-last dog year, before you were born,” Shen Qingqiu says distantly, unfolding his fan and placing it over his mouth. “I was the third son, and born sickly—so when the slavers came to Jinan, they told Father that I was quick-witted and handsome enough to serve a lordling in a great house, and that I would have all the food I wanted and medicine to treat my infirmity as long as I did not make too much of a nuisance of myself. So I was sold and taken away.”

He casts a thoughtful glance at Shen Jiu’s sharp nose and smooth jaw, and then at the mole behind his left ear. “The sixth year after that was a bad year, too. You must have been sold then.”

Shen Jiu wants to tell this cheap brother of his that he had not even been sold, for the slavers had wanted nothing to do with a three-year-old infant scarcely out of babyhood. His mother was long-dead by then, and his father and the two kept brothers had resented her for bearing Shen Jiu and hated Shen Jiu for not having died before he was weaned: so there was no one to protest when his father carried him out of their shack while he slept and abandoned him in an alley a few miles away. If this heretofore-unknown third elder brother, Shen Yuan, had not been pretty enough to catch the eyes of the Jinan slavers, perhaps their father would have done the same to him.

scene 2, set about a year later, after Shen Jiu finds out that Yue Qingyuan's personal name Yue Qi is not written with the character for "seven" in CQM's sect records:

“Qi was good enough for Qi-ge.”

“Yue Qi’s name was changed when he entered the sect,” Shen Qingqiu tells him. “The Qi that Shixiong uses now comes from qi xi, for a bird resting on a perch.”

Shen Jiu turns around to stare accusingly at Yue Qinguan. “You never told me that you’d changed your name. Why did I have to find out from—from Senior Shen?”

“Ah, well,” Yue Qingyuan says awkwardly, “Shizun was the one who decided that the Qi for seven wasn’t worthy of a Qiong Ding Peak disciple, and then I became the head disciple, and my name was changed again, to Qingyuan. I haven’t signed my name with the new Qi in years. But, A-Jiu, I do think that Shidi is right; it’ll be years before you can become a head disciple, and in that time…”

“Should I use the jiu for ‘a long while,’ then?” Shen Jiu quips. “Or jiu zhi?”

Shen Qingqiu snaps his fan closed. “No. How practiced are you in the scholarly arts?”

“I do well enough,” Shen Jiu bristles. Reading, writing, and the reciting of poetry were the three subjects that came to him easily after he entered the sect; and though he had been near the bottom of the class when he first arrived, his weekly reports placed him at the top by the beginning of the second month. “Ask Qi-ge.”

“Then why not use the name Jiu’ge, after the second volume of the Chuci?” Shen Qingqiu asks. “What do you think, shixiong?”

“I think Jiu'ge is a fine name. But it’s no good if Xiao-Jiu doesn’t like it.”

Shen Jiu thinks for a moment. In truth, he had wanted Yue Qi to bestow a new name upon him, if it so happened that he needed one. He gave Shen Jiu the very first name he remembers, Xiao Lizi, after the plums that Yue Qi used to smuggle to him when he was a child in the Huang manor; but he does not entirely detest the thought of this strange elder brother, thrown away just as he was, choosing the name Shen Jiu will be known by in the future.

“It’s not bad,” he admits at last. “Very well, then. Let it be Jiu’ge.”

[freckliedan]

PHANNIE TAROT STATS

a lovely group of phannies has been reading tarot about what may be coming next for dnp, and a lot of cards have been repeating between readings. i've been compiling stats, & i'm moving that to its own post! up to date as of 10:50ish pm PST.

DATA

so far, there have been 72 cards pulled by myself, @yonpote, @dnphobe, @thetrashthatsmilesback, @tarotphil, @whipcracknumber5, @emojackolantern, @queerdnp, @slitsfordan, @ghoulish-art-tendencies, and @thighguys. of those 71 cards:

28 are major arcana (38.8%)

14 are wands (19.4)

11 are pentacles (15.2%)

11 are swords (15.2%)

8 are cups (11.1%)

and 43 (59.7%) of those are duplicate cards:

the fool (2)

the high priestess (2)

the empress (5)

the hierophant (2)

strength (4)

the devil (2)

judgement (2)

the ace of swords (2)

the two of pentacles (2)

the three of wands (2)

the six of wands (2)

the seven of pentacles (3)

the eight of wands (2)

the nine of swords (2)

knight of wands (3)

knight of swords (2)

king of wands (2)

king of pentacles (2)

so the most pulled cards are the empress, strength, the seven of pentacles and the knight of wands.

ANALYSIS

major arcana cards show up for major/impactful life events or important moments in time. pentacles (earth) shows up for everything tangible and material, wands (fire) shows up for action, passion, creative spark. swords (air) shows up for matters of the mind/grief & pain/clarity/ideas/communication. and cups (water) is less present, but is tied to matters of the heart/intuition/connection with others.

when looking at the suit composition of this reading, it's clear that something big is coming. and it's not internal; this is communicative action driven by passion enacted in the "real world", likely in the context of community. fire + air can be a dangerous duo, spreading extremely rapidly, but this is anchored by the steady & deliberate nature of earth.

the increase in air cards makes sense to me with dan and phil both being triplicate air signs & the increasing amount of thought and anticipation being directed at the situation by phannies.

looking at the most repeated cards, the empress + strength + the seven of pentacles? that's generative energy. something is being created. and whatever it is will begin from a place of balanced power without a need for control. and this new thing is being made real by a grounded and fair assessment of where past efforts have landed dnp.

and the knight of wands is now one of the most common cards, too. in this situation that's dan.

my takeaway from all this is so firmly that they're hard launching—the new thing entering the world is an extremely significant communicative action with material impacts driven by passion. (convenient time to mention they both have venuses—the relational planet—in fire signs).

i can't see anything but a hard launch and a wedding (to be legally bound to another person is SO material) fitting those parameters, and i think that once again this is following dan's pace. though, this time i think due to the need he had to self-actualize with creative endeavors separately from phil—those pursuits are now drawing to a close.

HOUSEKEEPING:

you can look at past stats and analysis of specific readings in my tarot tag.

i'm going to put the standard composition of a tarot deck below the cut for comparison, and if i make any future updates to this post i will put a copy of the stats before the change there as well.

a standard tarot deck has 78 cards:

22 major arcana (28.2% of the deck)

14 cards of each suit (17.9% of the deck)

and none of these cards are duplicates.

VERSION 1: 05/01/2024 9:53 PM

so far, there have been 57 cards pulled by myself, @yonpote, @dnphobe, @thetrashthatsmilesback, @tarotphil, @whipcracknumber5, @emojackolantern, @queerdnp, and @slitsfordan. of those 57 cards:

25 are major arcana (43.8%)

10 are pentacles (17.5%)

9 are wands (15.7%)

7 are swords (12.2%)

6 are cups (10.5%)

and 29 (50.8%) of those are duplicate cards:

the fool (2)

the empress (5)

the hierophant (2)

strength (3)

the devil (2)

judgement (2)

the ace of swords (2)

the two of pentacles (2)

the six of wands (2)

the seven of pentacles (3)

knight of wands (2)

king of pentacles (2)

so the empress has been in 62.5% of readings, strength and the seven of pentacles have been in 37.5% of readings, and the rest have been in 25% of readings.

ANALYSIS

major arcana cards show up for major/impactful life events or important moments in time. pentacles (earth) shows up for everything tangible and material, wands (fire) shows up for action, passion, creative spark. swords (air) and cups (water) are less present, though swords are gaining ground.

when looking at the suit composition of this reading, it's clear that something big is coming. and it's not internal; this is action driven by passion enacted in the "real world", likely in the context of community.

the increase in air cards makes sense to me with dan and phil both being triplicate air signs & the increasing amount of thought and anticipation being directed at the situation by phannies.

looking at the most repeated cards, the empress + strength + the seven of pentacles? that's generative energy. something is being created. and whatever it is will begin from a place of balanced power without a need for control. and this new thing is being made real by a grounded and fair assessment of where past efforts have landed dnp.

my takeaway from all this is so firmly that they're hard launching—the new thing entering the world is an extremely significant action with material impacts driven by passion. (convenient time to mention they both have venuses—the relational sign—in fire signs).

i can't see anything but a hard launch and a wedding (to be legally bound to another person is SO material) fitting those parameters. possibly a new creative project,but that just isn't coming across vibes wise?

[serpenlupus]

Remember what I said about the Regency AU consuming my thoughts? Well xD

This comic is how I imagine Altavir and Wyll's first meeting would go, like a regency version of the tiefling party. Of course Altavir would have heard about captain Ravengard and such, but not actually met him (and obviously he dislikes him on principle from the beginning. REASONS)

In here, it took me some time to decide what shape Altavir's story could take in this AU, because his key is that he has a secret that shapes his identity and is related to his body. In bg3 he is a Tiefling but his father made him look and live as a human, I thought here he could be an intersex person and his father makes him portray two different people to advance his own goals (what those are I'm not sure yet), in this case he protrays himself as Altavir and also his cousin (insert name here), who conveniently lives in the country side

Of course part of the fun is that Altavir tries to avoid Wyll but they keep coinciding until a friendship starts and then, whoops falling in love with my best friend? Unexpected, appalling, I'm never saying anything but oh whoops he starts a courtship with my Lady persona? Well I'll have to keep up with it even though I'm deeply, painfully aware that there are numerous expectations from a lady that I physically cannot fulfil

We'll have so much fun

I thought of some details and Altavir is pretty good at keeping the personas separate and behaving very differently in accordance to the social norms of the time, but sometimes he gets too comfortable and lets his guard down just a bit...

Also of course I had to add Shadowheart to the mix, she and Altavir will always be besties no matter the universe, but they need a frenemies phase XDDDD

(and Nocturne, I think she'd have a bigger role in the Au opposite to the game)