#dunk doesn't like to be called pretty

[joongdunking]

Dunk always looking so pretty in pink 💖

Using Joong's Would You Mind just makes the whole OOTD extra sweet because of Joong's sweet voice and Dunk's sweet look 💖

[dgaftilwedie]

i do not like ariana grande i think that encouraging people to cheat on their spouses isn't cool and i think that the spongebob guy she's dating is a shitty person for divorcing his wife for her despite having had a child 3 months before. i think "yes, and?" is a shitty song talking about her shitty actions. i think the fact that all she has to say about stealing a woman's husband of 6 years is basically "yeah so what???" i think she's a bad person and everyone i talk to about this doesn't agree with me why is this so controversial idc how pretty she is cheating is fucking inexcusable

[star--stilinski]

Going off on your “stiles being accidentally hot”. Think of like a beach date but then you notice how all the girls are looking at him but he’s obliviously stiles not realizing he’s gained muscle from all his lacrosse training

(Then you prove he’s yours) WHAT?! Who said that?!

(Sorry I’m a freak)

anon is referring to this post.

did i make this ask from a different account?? i feel like we type the same. also that last part looks like the one meme of the spongebob fish looking back... ykwim?? too lazy to find it.

i would like to apologize to all blondes about to read this fic. my condolences.

☆

scott is spraying stiles down, head-to-toe with SPF 50. the way the sunscreen looks on his skin as it soaks in is downright criminal, honestly, and it seems you're not the only one who's noticed.

there's a pretty blonde bitch staring at your boyfriend.

okay, well, wait a second there. she's not a bitch for admiring him. there's been no tell that he's taken.

yet.

you frown and take a drink of the margarita lydia asked you to hold. there's a lipstick stain on the can where her lips were imprinted, but that doesn't sway your gaze from the blonde as she takes notice to his newfound abs. they're not crazy chiseled like derek- but they're definitely there.

meanwhile, bless his heart, your idiot boyfriend is singing along to the song blasting from the speaker scott brought, and he's using the sunscreen bottle as a mic. he turns to you and points as he sings the lyrics like the performance is just for you, and this does make you smile.

"is that a fruity marg? for me?" he drops the sunscreen and takes lydia's drink from your hand. before you can protest, he's already taken a big swig, and there's a shine on his bottom lip when he swallows. "that is really good. wanna taste?"

"what? i already had a taste. besides, it's-"

and then he's kissing you, pressing the strawberry flavor into your mouth. you flush bright pink and he pulls away, bobbing his eyebrows at you with a grin. "good, right? sorry, you just look really nice in that swimsuit."

you're aware, with the way his eyes dip down to peruse over your cleavage and hips, that 'nice' is code for 'unjustly fuckable.' and you kinda wish he would say it. but alas, scott is calling his name to throw a football back and forth and you brought your book for a reason, so you part ways with a mutual look of longing.

from your spot on the beach, the veiw is great. the white sands, the pretty waves, your boyfriend's pecs, the blue sky. really, the scenery is hard to beat. stiles' hair is stuck to his forehead after getting dunked by isaac and liam. oh, and your book is good too. you've been stuck on the same page since you sat down.

and there's two younger teenage girls fawning over stiles under a canopy next to you guys. lydia swirls her half-empty drink and scoffs at their giggling, glancing at you. "don't tell me they're the ones getting to you."

"what ever could you mean?" you bat your lashes at her dramatically. "they're just young girls who can appreciate hard work on a man, anyway."

"those aren't young girls." lydia nods past you, eyes darting between something. when you turn your head to look, there's that gorgeous blonde again with what seems to be her friend. both of them are slim and tall, and totally hotter than you. and eyeing stiles, much more boldly this time.

"careful babe, you're showing your teeth." lydia turns back to her own book and languidly flips the page. you close your eyes and huff out a sigh.

"it's probably just the newfound biceps, right? and the hair. he deserves some flattery."

"go cool off, i can't focus with the smoke blowing out of your ears." lydia hums without looking up.

you stand. "i'm gonna go for a swim."

"watch for sharks."

you glare at the two women across the way. "yeah, i will."

but just as you begin to make your way to the ocean, the football the boys were throwing veers off course and rolls over to the two younger teenagers, stopping right at their bare feet. you pause, watching as if in slo-mo as stiles jogs up and apologizes, seeming oblivious to their blushing and giggling. one of them hands him the ball back, and he beams down at her gratefully. they squeal when he jogs off.

you don't realize your fists are clenched until you're already in the water. they're little girls! that is totally normal! why are you being so territorial, as if he's gonna even know they like him!

you splash some water on your face, calming at the gentle sway of the tide, the cool temperature of the ocean lapping at your skin. yeah, you're fine. it was just a blip. just a blip. you're chill.

you turn towards the beach to beckon lydia in, but halt as you see blonde bitch and her croonie talking to stiles closely. you're so not fucking chill right now-

cool it, take a breath. you clench your jaw and shut your eyes, grounding yourself. you will not play overbearing girlfriend just as soon as stiles is getting attention. he needs to know that you're not lying when you call him hot and sexy and pretty and everything else that is true. this is perfect confirmation.

your eyes open because you hear a pretty, high-pitched laugh. it's the blondie's equally-gorgeous friend, who tucks her hair back and bats her lashes at him. he rubs the back of his neck, which he usually only does when you get suggestive with him.

and then blondie caresses his perfect, freckled bicep.

oh hell no.

you storm out of the water and right up to their little conversation, grabbing stiles by the wrist. "hey, can i talk to you for a sec?"

but you're already moving, practically dragging him along behind you as you make your way to the edge of the open beach, where there's a large rock sectioning off what's open and what's not. you pull stiles around it, stomping through shallow water to reach a completely empty, private side of the beach.

you don't think about who could stumble over or how the long grass tickles your ankles- you're already pressing stiles up against the large rock and kissing him blind.

he makes an "mmph!" noise when you first crash your lips onto his, but enthusiastically returns the kiss with a hand sliding to the back of your head. you barely come up for air as you lap your tongue into his mouth roughly, hands splaying across his naked, smooth torso. you press your whole body up against his, needing more more more of him. you need him all over you, need him to know who he chose and why. your mouth travels to his neck, and it tastes salty sweet when you start the makings of a dark hickey.

"hoooly- i'm- i'm, uh, not suggesting you stop, like at all, but i am a bit curious on what i, uh- fuck- did to get here? j-just so i can..." his words trail off as your fingers trace underneath his swim trunks. a strangled noise leaves his throat when you press your hips into his growing erection, raking your teeth lightly across the new mark at the same time.

"stupid fucking girls practically throwing themselves at you," you mumble bitterly before going in for another heated kiss. "as if it's not obvious we're together."

he pulls back from the kiss and you open your eyes to glare at him, only to be met with a cocky smirk and wide eyes. "are you saying you're jealous?"

you pull your body off of his, shoving his shoulder lightly. "don't look so happy! she was practically stripping you naked with her eyes."

he cups your neck with his hand, reminding you of how big it is. stiles' eyes lose the self-assured glint and go soft, flitting all over your face as he parts his lips. "you're not mad, are you?"

"at you? no." you feel his other hand slide around your hip and over the top of your ass, pressing your body back up against his not-so-subtly. "at the girls practically prowling around you like you're some piece of meat? yes."

his eyes zero in on your lips as you lick them, furrowing his brow a bit like he has to focus in order to finish his thought. "i didn't even know she was flirting. i wouldn't have..."

but you don't let him finish, stretching up to kiss again and he deepens the kisses quickly, his hands pulling you in. you mouth down stiles' neck and chest, slowly sinking to your knees in front of him. before you got far, he was all breathy encouragement. but when you look up at him, face to face with his happy trail and low-hanging trunks, his jaw goes slack and his eyes glaze over in anticipation.

"oh, are we- are we doing-? okay, yep, yepyepyep i am very cool with this, yeah-" he helps you slide his trunks far down enough as you kiss along his subtle v-line. he sighs, brows upturned for you. "all yours, it's all yours."

you nod, smirking to yourself when he has to clamp a palm over his mouth as your hands begin what your tongue will soon replace.

☆

stiles stumbles out from behind the rock a little while after you, red in the face and littered in hickeys. scott turns to you with a scrunched up nose, feigning disgust. "dude. seriously?"

you blink at him, wide eyed. "what? i was just checking on a jellyfish sting!"

lydia raises her drink to you, not looking up from her book. "impressive time."

"you think so?" you smile sweetly at her.

"unless he's always that quick."

"you guys are disgusting." scott gags as he escapes you two.

☆

im gonna be late for work because of this

[dukeofankh]

Leaving toxic masculinity behind as a source of community is pretty much an unmitigated good, especially for men who are chronically underperforming in one or more metric by which hegemonic patriarchal status is measured (heterosexuality, whiteness, ability to perform violence, ect.). No real external spur is needed for leaving. It doesn't even require empathy. Just perspective. Relying on an abusive pyramid scheme for self worth is bad, actually.

But when you leave that, I dunno, call me a whiny incel who expects emotional labour from others, it would be cool if there was some sort of community or support structure in place for progressive men to find celebration and identity and acceptance. It would be nice if we had cultural conceptions of positive masculinity that could be emulated instead of individual, exceptional, disposable blorbos to be fawned over. It would be nice if being masculine wasn't viewed as something that negates or problematises my queerness. It would be nice to even be able to find media about masculinity that isn't poisoned by fascism or more interested in dunking on said misogynists for clout. I feel like I'm trying to build something new from scratch. Why? Why is this such a fucking wasteland.

I don't know about y'all, but I have never felt understood and accepted by any community ever in my fucking life. I have never felt seen. I have never felt at home. I'm not gonna become a misogynist about it but there sure isn't anything positive to lean on or collective vision for a positive future to fucking strive for, is there? Christ.

And like, because I know I do have to end with this, before you try some faux-hopecore bullshit on me that actually seeks to shift the blame right back onto me, I'm already donating to and planning to volunteer for my local left wing party for our upcoming federal election. I already signed up for more classes to fill my time, I'm married, I text my stupid friends who bail on me and don't text back. I have been to therapy several times. I have already poured hundreds of hours trying to build community in male feminist spaces online. Systemic issues do not magically become individual failings when we talk about men.

[two-white-butterflies]

love by listening | daemon targaryen

Description: Daemon Targaryen goes rogue after his wedding to Lady Rhea Royce, unwilling to consummate the marriage. He finds peace in a Dornish tavern. You meet him in said tavern, and quickly become close friends. You share an adventure. Both unaware that the other person is nobility.

graphics from @saradika-graphics

Pairing: princess of dorne!reader/daemon targaryen

Warning: brief making love (not sex, making love)

A/N: I wanted it to give Dunk and Egg vibes. Reader is bubbly and talkative/has her own ambitions. She does what she wants bcs she's all about that high life. Set in Dorne + young daemon targaryen. open ending.

Daemon didn't believe in gods. He doesn't care about the punishment he'll be given after this. A few hours ago, he was forced to go through the wedding with Lady Rhea Royce. In his opinion, she was not an attractive bride. She was lucky to have come from nobility for she had a basic peasant bitch face.

Despite her odd looks, benevolent Daemon still went through with the marriage. He held his tongue, wanted to make his brother proud - but then they started talking about the bedding ceremony, and Daemon knew that he had to get the hell away from there.

Where did that bring him?

To Caraxes, to flying towards Dorne - and drinking inside of a tavern.

"It's the first time I've seen a foreigner in these parts." your voice breaks him free from his thoughts. He was about to swat you away, but a single look at your face changed his mind.

Beautiful.

There were a lot of pretty maidens in Dorne - but you were one of the most beautiful ones so far. "I did not bring any gold." he warned, under the impression that you were a whore. "Gods, I have no intention of fucking you." you lied, quickly sitting beside him.

"The first time I saw a cock. It was disgusting. I actually vowed to only fuck women after that." you smiled at the memory. Reaching for his ale, and taking a drink of it. "- I suppose I never upheld that promise. Women are beautiful but we are too wet for my taste. Men are just lovely and dry, and they are easier to toy with." you giggle.

He could smell the alcohol on your breath.

You were the first maiden he's seen to speak in that manner. He wonders if the maidens back home are like this too, if it weren't for archaic beliefs silencing their true thoughts. Dorne was a magical fucking place. It was how the rest of the six kingdoms needed to be.

"Why are you talking to me?" he asks, his face stoic just in case you had some tricks up your sleeve.

"Well, you are alone." you pointed out. "- and I am alone. Shouldn't two vagabonds protect each other?" you tilted your head.

"What makes you think that I am alone?" he inquires.

"I've been watching you for quite some time now, love. Are you going to give me your name?" you asked in return, continuing to stare deep into his purple eyes - drawing him closer like a siren to the waves. "I'd like to remain an enigma." he answers, matching your mysteriousness.

He finds himself hypnotized by your eyes. Eyes that were lined with kohl. "I won't share my name too, to be fair." you smiled, and now his attention was drawn towards your lips. Stained red with rouge.

The tension between you was palpable. He felt like a moth to a flame. Allured by this beautiful fire. Leaving only one question in his head: will he burn? Fire cannot harm a dragon. He reminds.

His hands reached for the small of your waist. A sudden boldness. He plays with the textured embroidery of your tunic. Pulling you closer to his body, until you were almost sitting on his lap.

"What will I call you?" he frowned, teasing you.

"Think of something witty." you insisted, fingers dancing along the details of his clothed tunic.

"Gevives, then." he settles on a suitable name. "I am relieved that you find me beautiful, love." you laugh, hands trailing upwards to his collar - pulling him closer until your lips were bridged together.

He melts into the kiss, hands firmly wrapped around your waist. He'd be so easy to poison. But alas, you weren't here to kill him.

He presses you against your bed - the first time he's felt lust in a while. If this was going to be a one-time thing, then he'll be thinking about you until the day he died. He's already placed this encounter in his three best fucks. The way that you looked beneath him, he can almost see himself thirty years later still jerking off to you.

You are fucking beautiful.

Naked - and vulnerable against him.

His hands danced along the curve of your waist, delighted at the smoothness of your skin. You reach for his face, cupping his cheek tenderly - staring at him with fascination. "You are so beautiful, like an illusion." you whispered in a voice that makes him want to sleep.

He positions his member at the entrance of your core.

"So good," you cooed - feeling him begin to thrust. You continued staring at each other, that connection remained unbreakable. "Keep going," you whispered, he couldn't help but smile. So talkative, even when making sweet love. "Gevie," he smiles.

Daemon wakes up to the feeling of light on his exposed skin. He lets out a yawn, rubbing his eyes so it adjusts to the brightness of the room quicker. He takes a deep breath - as he remembers what happened last night.

Last night, he fucked a goddess.

He turns to look at your sleeping form.

Beautiful even when sleeping, he thought.

He was thankful that he commanded Caraxes to return to the Red Keep.

He had no responsibility. None but you.

"Good morrow," you greeted, voice still hoarse from last night. "Good morrow," he responds, wrapping his arms around your waist. This type of touch was foreign to him. He's never wrapped his arms around someone after making love.

It felt domestic. Like how marriage was supposed to be.

"I suppose this is where our paths diverge." he says, unwilling to sound needy. But in actuality, he never wants to leave. He wants to stay like this forever. Inside of an inn, with his arms wrapped around the most beautiful woman in the world.

"Not so soon. I think we should still walk together." you hum, pulling him closer to your body until he was laying on your chest.

"I've made the observation that you have a lot of time on your hands." you breathed, his ears pressed against your chest - listening to your heartbeat.

"Your observation is correct." he confirms.

He had the face of a dangerous man. It was a risk to be in a stranger's company, but your heart told you that he could be trusted. He felt like you - exactly like you.

You kept staring at his body. His toned muscles and broad shoulder. "Are you a knight?" you asked, reminded of the tourney in Starfall.

"I am," he answers truthfully, praying that it was something that you liked about men.

"There is a tournament in Starfall. The prize is a dragon egg." you informed, mind already focused towards the next adventure.

"I shall win a dragon egg for you, then." he announces. He finds no harm in having a little adventure with a maiden. He has won all the tourneys he's attended, after all. "Really? I wanted to steal it." you say.

He responds with a chuckle, pushing a strand of your hair away from your face. How dare you steal his heart. "Why steal it when you can have it fair and square?" he asked teasingly.

You continued staring at his face, a look that was indescribable. "I like the sound of that," you smile - pressing a kiss to his jaw.

Ashara's lips pressed into a thin line. "What god has possessed you to bring a man inside of Starfall?" she scolded, leading you and Daemon towards a secluded part of the tourney. "He is my paramour." you announce, your grip remains firm on his hand.

"Your father will kill him." she says plainly. "- a Targaryen bastard, a scandal waiting to emerge." she scoffs.

Daemon's expression softens, quickly turning into amusement.

Do they all believe me to be a bastard? Apologies, I am legitimate, he thinks, but he decides to bite those words back, lest he be sent back to the Red Keep.

"I did not come here as my father's daughter. I came here under a disguise." you reminded, pulling the grey hood up until it was hiding your face. "You shouldn't have come here, anyways. You'll get me into trouble with mine own father." she glared at you.

"I'm sorry Ashara but we won't be bothering you. We merely want to join the tourney and win the dragon-egg." you say out loud, but she silences you with a finger to your lips.

"The prize remains a mystery to those in the audience. Only the competitors truly know. The Targaryens will be furious, we will be answered with fire and blood." Ashara reminds and you nod silently.

"- I'm sorry, I'll stay out of your way. I promise. Now, can you please lead us to the tents?" you ask and the other woman nods, pointing at the white tents in the far distance.

"Thank you," you smile politely - still holding his hand and dragging him to the direction of the other knights.

You paid a squire a decent amount of money to use their armor. Daemon was quick to wear it, but he still missed his sword. The Dark Sister, previously wielded by Queen Visenya. "I've never fought against this much Dornish men before." he breathes.

He had his experience fighting a few of them. They were good warriors, though not good enough to defeat him. "We fight like rattlesnakes, that's what my father always says." you say, placing the last piece of his armor on his body.

"You haven't been here for that long, huh?" you made another observation, and he nods. Though he still keeps his identity a secret.

"I grew up in Kingslanding. My mother died giving birth, and my father died of a burst belly." he chuckles - laughing his sorrows away.

"Prince Baelon is your father." you say with certainty, piecing the information together. "- he would've made a wonderful King." you add, basing off the stories that your father shared.

"I think it is your turn to speak about your past, gevives. And I've spent enough time around you to understand that you aren't lowborn." he urges while adjusting his straps.

"How did you come to that understanding?" you inquired, curious of his way of thinking.

His hands danced along your exposed arm.

"Your skin is smooth like silk." he says, like he was praying. His hands trailed upwards, until his fingers were on your chin. "- and you take good care of your beauty." he finishes - and he stops touching you.

"My father is a nobleman. I am his youngest child, the only daughter after six boys. Which means that I've been exposed to leeches using me ever since I was born. I ran away from them. I can't trust anyone, but I think I can trust you." you reveal pieces of your past to him, unwilling to give him the full information.

He was the first person that called you beautiful without knowledge of your vast fortune. And now he was here, promising to win a tourney just so you'd see a dragon-egg for the first time.

"Six brothers, like the princess of dorne." he teases.

"Mhm," you hummed - freezing.

"Ser, get ready." a squire peeks his head through the tent. Daemon stands up, and offers his hand for you take - helping you stand up.

"Thank you," you smile, regaining your composure.

"I promise to win, my lady." he places a kiss on the back of your hand.

Daemon won the tourney with ease, any knight that dared to fight against him didn't even last five minutes. All of his fights ended the same. He'd strike them down, the opponent would be on the ground and Daemon would only look to the next competitor.

You continued watching him.

Observing every little thing that he's doing. It was evident that there was a piece of the puzzle that you haven't solved yet. A knight as skilled as him should be renowned, and yet the only information you have on him - is that he is the bastard son of Prince Baelon.

He was an interesting mystery.

"The winner of our tourney, Ser..." Ashara rises, only beginning to realize that none of them knew the name of this skilled knight. Your best friend turns to look at you, but you answer with a shrug. It was a little game between you and Daemon - neither one knowing that the other one's real name is.

"Ser Daemon," he opened his mouth - meeting your gaze.

He added the last piece of the puzzle, and your face was struck with eureka. Prince Daemon Targaryen, you thought immediately. "Congratulations, Ser Daemon. Please claim your prize behind the tents." Ashara nodded.

"The audience was complaining, the tourney wasn't entertaining for them." you open the conversation, stepping foot inside of the tent. "I suppose it isn't entertaining when only one person wins." you smirk.

He holds the dragon-egg in his hands. "I promised that I'd win." he answers, patting the empty space beside him. "Here's your dragon-egg, my lady." he chuckles. You gladly sit beside him, laying your head on his shoulder and marveling at the beauty of the egg.

"You are Prince Daemon Targaryen." you announced, confirming your previous suspicions. "I am," he finds himself unable to lie.

"- I think it is only fair that I know your name too, my lady." he adds.

An amused smile paints your lips.

"I am Princess (Your Name) Martell. I can't believe that we meet under these circumstances." you laugh.

A prince and a princess meeting inside of a tavern instead of a castle. Even beginning to fall in love without the pressure of their respective kingdoms. It was something out of a fable.

Daemon reaches for your hand, placing it on top of the dragon-egg. "It is an honor to meet you, my princess." he acknowledges.

[lune-redd]

Hello, it's Lelly.

As you may know, I have recently deactivated my Twitter account. A lot of people are speculating I left because I was being harassed for drawing my older depiction of Bubbles from The Powerpuff Girls as chubby. However... that's not the direct reason I left. In fact, I didn't really see much of the comments of folks on there getting riled up about it as I muted the tweet the morning I saw that it blew up. I was only merely aware of it all by being told about it from friends, with there being some other users on the site making other really fuckin' stupid comments about my art.

This does however lead into why I actually left Twitter, and it's because of Twitter's overall toxic nature. Overtime, I've really gotten sick of how absolutely revolting Twitter has become to experience. The site is basically built around dunk culture and doom scrolling. You know that one tweet of someone making an example of Twitter's utter stupidity by using pancakes and waffles as an example?

I bring this up because I think this fits my point about how Twitter has this thing of assuming the absolute worst about the most insignificant things, even the most innocuous. The "Bubbles obesity" comments weren't the only stupid comments that came out of that post. I also got a quote retweet that I was "forcefully feminizing Buttercup", even though the whole fucking point of that drawing was to depict a usually tough character in an unusual situation for her. I have also gotten stupid comments on other drawings though, like the one where Mitch pushes Buttercup down for trying to look taller than she is and I got called a misogynist for it, though I'm pretty sure that one was bait (Twitter users have a tough time figuring out what is and isn't bait, it's dunk culture that I'm about to talk about really doesn't help this).

The site's dunk culture is also really fuckin' bad. Quote retweets are a disease, as unlike Tumblr's reblog comments, quote retweets count as a different post. Someone disagrees with you? Show your audience how stupid they are on your page! Hey, are you trying not to see the most abhorrent racist statement imaginable? Well TOO BAD FUCK YOU here's a le epic own giving them all the attention in the world even though one of the most common internet rules are DON'T FEED THE FUCKIN' TROLLS YOU IDIOT. Oh hey, are you trying to explain how you prefer a certain artistic choice over another in something you like? Well you're a deranged ungrateful whiny nitpicker, get owned!

I've seen so many of my friends be belittled for simply discussing their artistic preferences of things they're passionate about. I had a friend who said he prefers the original Crash Bandicoot design over his redesigned look in Crash 4, and had legitimate reasons for why he felt that way (even if he didn't really explain them clearly), and he got dunked for it which made me mad. I'm sick and tired of it all. The reaction to my art is only a mere example of the shit I despise about that site.

I had been planning on leaving Twitter for quite some time, as my follower count was growing nearer and nearer to 10K. I had planned on leaving after 10K followers because that amount was wayyyy too fuckin big for me to handle. I'm a young and growing lad, and I felt it wouldn't be good for my mental sanity to handle all that, so I dipped. The amount of attention I've been getting is simultaneously both wonderful and extremely overwhelming. Even the explosion of new followers and asks on here is quite the load! (Seriously, calm the fuck down y'all) I am very grateful for all the supportive asks I've gotten even though I won't be able to answer them all, thank you all so very much.

tl;dr I didn't leave Twitter because I was being harassed or anything, but rather because of the site's overall toxic and belittling environment.

Adios.

-Lelly

[sometimesanalice]

“well,  i do feel a little better now that you’re here”

Bradley and SG please 👉🏼👈🏼 love your work Alexa ☺️☺️

Charlie, you gem! Thank you for always being so lovely and supportive! I hope you enjoy this one! 🥰

There You Are

Summary: It's the first time you're seeing Bradley in over 2 years. A lot of things have changed for you since the night he'd called you before that mission, but if there was one thing you knew you could count on, it was that he'd always be there for you.

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 1.5K

It had been nine days of radio silence.

Nine days since Bradley had called you in the night before he left for whatever classified mission the Navy had ordered him back to Top Gun for.

Nine days of wondering and hoping for the best. Trying to convince yourself that no news was good news.

Nine days of not tasting any of the meals you'd forced down as you waited. Not that you had much of an appetite anyways.

Nine days of tossing and turning in the bed you slept alone in, as you worked on untangling your life from your now ex boyfriend. The two of you agreeing to share the apartment like roommates until you found out about the promotion you were up for.

The one that might take you to San Diego. To the sunshine and ocean. To new opportunities. To your best friend.

You had pretty much dropped everything the moment you saw Bradley's name flash across the screen of your phone. The relief that washed over you at the sound of his voice- at his Hey, kid- nearly sent you to the floor.

While it had been another few days before you were able to get on a plane- he'd told you there were still some debriefs and paperwork that still needed to be done before him and his team could take leave- but you'd started packing your suitcase the moment the call ended.

You were antsy the entire six hour flight from Boston. You'd apologized more than once for nudging your neighbor's arm as you shifted and squirmed in your uncomfortable seat.

Hearing that final ding of the seatbelt off sign was music to your ears.

You'd called him the moment you stepped off the plane and Bradley picked up on the first ring.

"This feels familiar, doesn't it?" he rasps over the phone. You know he's thinking about the Spring Break you'd went to visit him at UVA. He'd picked you up at the airport then, just like he was doing now. "When is it my turn to be picked up at the airport, kid?"

Of course they'd dropped you off at the furthest gate in Terminal 1. You let out a huff and then set about threading your way through the throng of people standing between you and your best friend.

"Please, when's the last time you flew commercial?" you tease. "And it's not all of us can just waltz onto a Naval Base anytime we want."

"Hey, no one's stopping you from joining up. I'll even write you a letter of recommendation."

You weave around a stroller.

"Hmm, pass. But thank you for the generous offer."

And then past a couple holding hands.

He chuckles. "Guess that means I get to keep my title as designated chauffeur, huh?"

"Lucky you," you sing.

If you weren't on a mission, you'd consider stopping at the coffee shop that you're briskly gliding past for a quick cappuccino. But you had other priorities.

"Such a smart ass." You can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

You speed up your steps, the glimmer of the exit now in sight. "Why don't you say that to my face, Bradshaw."

"I'm trying to, but you're taking forever," he grouses, famously the more impatient one of the two of you. "I'm to the left of Arrivals gate, by the way."

You smile to yourself. Knowing him, he has probably been there for at least an hour keeping tabs on you with some flight tracker app he'd downloaded on his phone.

"It's a good thing you told me, I'm not sure if I'd recognize you with that bold fashion statement you're sporting on your face now."

Bradley scoffs indignantly. "You haven't even been here thirty minutes and you're already dunking on the 'stache, kid? It looks better in person, give it a chance."

You pull over just to the right of the Terminal exit, tucked next to a potted ficus, taking a moment to scan through the crowd of people waiting for their own travelers. He's not hard for you to find, standing head and shoulders above everyone else in the area.

Whole and healthy and here in front of you.

It's been a little over two years since you've last seen Bradley in person, he'd been stationed in Japan before his return to Top Gun. It was still hard to believe that the lanky boy you'd grown up with had become the well-built man standing across the way from you.

During his time in the Navy, he'd truly come into himself. The easy confidence in his posture was well earned and looked good on him. But you had to stop yourself from laughing and giving yourself away when you see him impatiently tapping his toes. Because no matter how much some things change, there are some things that will always be the same.

"I don't know about that," you muse, still taking him in because there was a moment there when you weren't sure you'd ever get to see him again. "I can see it from here and I'm still on the fence about it."

You see him look around, confused for a moment, head swiveling trying to spot you. You don't keep him waiting long, stepping out from your hiding spot and into view.

You mouth hi and give him a little wave.

"Hey, there you are." There's no missing the wide grin on his face. "You going to stand all the way over there or are you going to come see the mustache up close and personal?"

You laugh and shake your head making your way to him. "I guess I might as well considering I did fly all the way across the country to see it."

"And me, I hope."

"And you," you confirm.

You end the call, tucking your phone into your bag as you close the gap between him and you.

Those whiskey brown eyes are one you've known your whole life. His curls looked like they've seen some sun, as did the rest of him. And the soft smile he had directed at you looked like contentment.

What stops you in your tracks are the fresh cuts that mark his face, new scars to be mixed in with the ones you already knew so well. They're shade of bright pink that's impossible to miss.

"Oh my god, Bradley."

He doesn't say a word as you gently take his face in your hands, tilting his head this way and that, inspecting him for yourself. He just gazes at you, reading every emotion as they run across your face, as you try to hunt for any clues to an answer about what happened that you know you'll never get.

"I'm fine, I promise," he murmurs.

"It doesn't look fine," you press.

He grasps you wrists with his warm hands and coaxes yours down between the two of you.

Too close. Whatever it was was too damn close. The evidence is right there on his neck and behind his ear, and you hate it.

Bradley squeezes your hands reassuringly. "I'll have you know passed the concussion protocol with flying colors." He tries to play it off as a joke, but the dark circles under his eyes and the weariness you see around the corners of his eyes tells a different story.

"Does it still hurt?" you ask, trying not to let your voice wobble.

"Well, I do feel a little better now that you’re here.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. "You're so-"

Ridiculous. Frustrating. Important to me.

You don't get to finish you sentence because Bradley is tugging you into his broad chest. The arms that wrap around you are fuller now, but his hug is as just a familiar as it's always been.

Yours thread themselves around his waist instinctively, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

He holds you close, holds you tight. Bradley's always been the type to really hold on tight because he knows what it's like to have to let things go.

People come and go. There's the sound of departure and arrival announcements on the speakers overhead. Some people are saying their goodbyes, and some- like the two of you- are saying hello.

All of it happens around you and Bradley. As you hold him and he holds you. Both of you all too aware that this moment hadn't been a given.

"Thank you for not standing me up," you whisper, throat thick.

"I wouldn’t dream of it, kid," he says, taking your chin between his thumb and index finger, and gives it a little wiggle.

You blow out a breath, not wanting a raincloud of what-ifs to damper your golden afternoon.

"Hi," you say again.

"I'm happy to see you," he replies, earnestly. You just nod your head because the feeling is so, so mutual. "You just gained three hours, you up for a little adventuring?"

"I’m all yours, Bradshaw."

It didn't matter to you what you did for the four days you were in town, just that you got to spend it with him.

"Good." He drapes a heavy arm over shoulder and reaches for your suitcase. "Because I'm pretty sure I owe you a milkshake."

You let him steer you towards the exit, to where you assume the short term parking garage is located, and ask, "Can I drive the Bronco?"

Bradley pauses. "We'll see."

You grin because it's not a no.

The California sun hits you in full force as you step out the automatic doors. You reach up and tug out the sunglasses that had been haphazardly tucked into the pocket of his silly Hawaiian shirt- that you were definitely going to tease him about later- and slip them on your face.

Bradley smiles over at you.

"I think California is going to suit you, kid."

And for the first time, here with him, you think it might too.

[systlin]

Picking a Gor book at random: Marauders of Gor!

OH THIS IS THE SHITTY FAKE VIKING KNOCK OFF BOOK

SO. We open with Cow of House Cow, formerly known as Tarl Cabot. He got poisoned at the end of the last book and this paralyzed him. Should have upped the dose and killed him

(Bosk. He took the name Bosk because in book five he got taken slave by a lady who mean dommed him once and it fundamentally rewired his brain chemistry. He spends the rest of the books...all TWENTY SEVEN MORE OF THEM...going by the name Kind Mistress gave her pretty slave.)

ANYWAY. There's some dumb bullshit about a plot by the Kurii to conquer Gor. The Kurii are giant werewolf aliens who eat people, and I think Tarl bottomed for one once but that's a different book. They're the enemy of the Priest Kings.

Tarl then fixes the depression he's sunk into because he is Utterly Useless And Pathetic since his legs don't work. This somehow also fixes his legs? Who the fuck knows. He decides to go investigate. This whole baffling intro takes seventy pages.

Anyway.

This takes him to the north, where we find him in a Not!Catholic church. As in, it is exactly like a catholic church except it's to the PK's and not God. The head priest is the most overblown caricature of a greedy evil priest ever set to paper. Calling him one dimensional would be adding a dimension.

Naturally, the Shitty Terrible Vikings attack and loot the place.

Now, they don't attack at FIRST. Norm, thinking himself terribly clever, rips off a move from a saga written by actual good writers and steals the 'smuggle weapons into a church in a coffin with a viking leader who is totally dead you guys, we pinky promise' scheme. Our co hero with Tarl for the book, Ivar Forkbeard, is naturally not dead.

Ivar and his crew promptly loot the place, and also take slave all the pretty women they can find. Tarl, of course, impresses Ivar with his immense fighting ability (dodges a thrown spear) and Ivar decides to take him along with his crew, because Tarl has the thickest plot armor ever seen. They burn the church down and fuck off with their loot. We find out here that the Shit Vikings still follow their gods. Odin and Thor are the only two mentioned. They use a salute that would be very familiar to anyone who has watched WW2 documentaries or, more recently, Elon Musk.

On the longship, we learn a few things. One, that John Norman doesn't know shit about longships, because he gives them rigged sails. Two, that the shitty vikings eat snails raw out of the bilges, which seems like it would give you ten different diseases. Three, that they break slaves by tying them to the oars and dunking them into the north sea repeatedly for several hours, in a move that would totally not kill someone.

At Ivar's holdings, we see more slaves, and the new slaves are branded. Norm spends an immense amount of time and loving detail on this. Tarl is still having a great time. He happily feasts and drinks and rapes...his words, not mine...slaves left and right.

At one point, to discipline a woman, Ivar has her tied naked to a block of ice. For hours. This somehow doesn't kill her, and yet we are told women are weak.

They capture the daughter of a Jarl and enslave her, because she told Ivar to fuck off once and Norm is convinced that this means a woman is burning with a secret passion to literally lick a man's feet. Seriously. There's so much foot licking. In every book. It's in every book. Naturally she falls in love with Ivar and becomes his happy slave. This takes hundreds of pages and it's all horrible. All the poor women get names like Honey Cake, Pudding, ect.

Tarl and his new bestie and their slaves go to what is clearly an Althing, except worse. Ivar is an outlaw, see, and he wants to shove his dick in people's faces that he raised enough money to pay his fine but isn't gonna pay it anyway, because Real Men Don't Do Shit Like Participate Constructively In Society. Norm is INTENSELY culturally WASP, even though he claims to be an atheist. The whole rugged individualism he admires more than anything oozes like slime off most of these books. No, Ivar is clearly supposed to be someone we should aspire to be like, As Men, and Tarl has a huge crush on him I'm pretty sure. And he's a total piece of rat shit.

Ivar and Tarl win a bunch of contests because of course they do, and we see Free Women being unpleasant as Norm writes all free women. Namely, not taking any shit and talking back to men, which Norm calls 'haughty arrogance'. Ivar shows he has the cash to pay his fine, but refuses to. This amuses everyone enough though that they lift his sentence rather than just chucking him off a cliff for some reason.

The head of the Kurii on Gor comes to treat with the jarls. They all decide clearly this is a trick, because of course it is it's not subtle. The Kurii say that they have an army and will take Shitty Viking Land and also the south of Gor. The Shitty Vikings are like fuckit let's fight.

They do. It's somehow boring, in a way that vikings fighting space werewolves should actually find impossible to be. The vikings win by stampeding a herd of cattle over the space werewolves and also maybe some 800 year old legendary figure shows up?

Tarl, having reassured himself that he is a True Man, heads back to Port Kar.

The end.

[andbrokenmemories]

look i don't want to dunk on clockblocker too much because he chokes it often enough as is. I don't want to be mean. But I do think there's something darkly funny with a decent chunk of the conceit of Worm being that the unwritten rules are structured like this because capes are needed to fight Endbringers. And then a chunk of capes are potentially very potent Strikers, but with no mobility options and no exceptional durability. When the Endbringers are:

Guy who is constantly covered in rushing water and who can kill you with a single unreactable thwip of his thingy (doable!),

Guy famous for what government officials and experts have taken to calling 'the Kill Radius',

and Flying Angel Woman. Who you would not like to be around for too long for separate reasons also

hi I triggered real bad under a school planetarium display and I got the power to destroy a galaxy by touching it. I'm sort of a Striker 1 the PRT task forcers see me around and go "hey Striker 1 boy". But it's a close 1. IMHO it's a close 1. thought about going to the last levvy fight but yknow. It was a Soft Target. I would have had trouble walking around. My costume doesn't have good boots but it's a pretty hot look I think

[eight-cats-in-a-box]

TFA Bumblebee x GN!Cybertronian Reader!

General headcanons about Bee and how Reader is just WWWAAAYYY taller then him. Like Reader be easily picking him up and oh Bee would be all flustered of how they just thinks he's so cute being how small he is.

He's their cute short king 💛

I am. So so so sorry this took so long-

If you don't like it, please feel free to lmk!

Bumblebee x GN! Cybertronian reader

Warnings: Cussing and a little violence? I think that's it

Bee absolutely hates how easily you tower over him. Well, he doesn't really hate it. But don't call him out on that. It's more fun to watch him bluster and stutter when you pick him up.

This bitch can and will climb you like a tree, and chill on your shoulder so he can yap at you. He likes to be tall. Be prepared for many, many "how's the weather up there" type jokes.

Don't make fun of him. No, really. He gets enough shit from his friends, he doesn't need it from his partner. And if he takes it too far with the tall jokes, tell him. He doesn't want to hurt your feelings.

On that note, stick up for him. Too many people make fun of him for being so small, he needs you to defend his honour. Sentinel is TERRIFIED of you. Why wouldn't he be? You're fucking huge! Bee (and everyone else) thinks it's fucking hilarious. He likes to laugh at Sentinel from his perch atop your shoulder.

Pick him up. Do it. I dare you. He will absolutely bluescreen. Your normally yellow bug will turn blue from how hard he's blushing.

He likes it when you make him feel useful. Have him grab the thing close to the ground so you don't have to bend down. He...might take it the wrong way at first, but a little communication goes a long way. Once he knows you don't mean it as a height joke, he helps you out pretty willingly.

Of course, it's not a relationship with Bee if he isn't an ass sometimes. When he feels down on himself for one reason or another, he tends to get snippy and mean. Don't snap back. It'll only end in hurt feelings and one of you recharging on the couch. Be patient, and walk away if you have to. Go on patrol for a while and cool down. I guarantee that by the time you come back, he'll have either figured it out himself or gotten a lecture from somebot on how stupid he's being.

He has climbed you to taunt someone else about their lack of height. Whether it's Prowl, the Jettwins, Sentinel, or whoever, he can and will and has dunked on them.

And by god, you two are a force of nature on the battlefield. Your brute strength and sheer size combined with his speed and ability to piss anyone off, you're a damn good team. He ticks them off so they chase him and he leads them straight to you for a good aft-whoopin'.

Masterlist

[twst-drabbles]

Floyd 10

Summary: Sometimes when Crowley irritates you, you like to throw Floyd right at him.

(Really like the thought of slinging this eel around like a ferret.)

Ever since Crowley installed a number of automatic systems that basically did his chores for him, he's been coming over more and more often out of sheer boredom. He pops over in your house unannounced, hogs your television when you want to use it, and has even taken over a lot of your chores just as you were in the mood to do them.

And right now, he's watering your berry bushes like he didn't take the hose from your hand.

"Neglecting your berry bushes like this, how awful!" Crowley complained loudly like you weren't right there in your backyard, splashing your feet about with Floyd chasing after your toes. "But, because I am very kind, I shall do it for you at almost no cost!"

You pinched Floyd between your ankles and threw him to the end of the pond. He flailed and squealed as he went sailing.

You yelled back, "No Crowley, you're not watching your shows on my TV! And I'm not making you snacks!"

He has his own television! And you know he can make his own snacks! You've seen him on a cooking show once at 1 AM! He knows this stuff! He doesn't need you to do any of this. And besides, when he gets too into whatever drama he got himself into, he whoops and hollers just as you're about to enter the realm of sleep.

Seriously, you already have issues with sleeping at a consistent time and this bird-brained man is not making things better for you. You have things to do! Pets to take care of and entertain when their solo enrichment wasn't enough.

"Oh come on," Crowley scoffed in that way that never fails to irritates you. That specific scoff like you're some silly kid that's claiming things for themselves because they haven't digested the concept of sharing. "Don't tell me you have forgotten basic manners. You haven't been an adult for that long and already you don't want to show appreciation for all these things I'm doing for you."

"I don't need you to do shit for me, Old Crow," your whisper came out as a hiss.

Crowley was struck by nickname he probably thought was dead on your tongue. "Old-!"

"What I need from you," you smiled and dunked your entire arm into the pond. You grabbed Floyd just as he was about to nip at your calves. "Is for you to get a hobby!"

And like a rocket being launched, you threw Floyd directly to the back of Crowley's head. You may have thrown this eel one too many times. His posture was perfectly straight, arms sticking right out like he's one of those superheroes in a cartoon, and his face was perfectly pensive as though you're sending him off on a mission.

You didn't really mean for him to land perfectly on the back of Crowley's head. You just wanted Floyd to get, like, around his back but oh well. Too late now.

Floyd gripped his teeth and claws into Crowley's hair just as he tipped forward at the new weight.

"What in-" Then, Floyd slipped his tail under Crowley's collar, then whipped it around with no mercy! "Mmmah!"

"Ah, Floyd's slime wiping attack," you noted with a chuckle. You've been victim of that move a few times before. You're pretty sure it's not any sort of territory marking so much as he wants to gross people out. "I am not sorry."

Seriously, just because he's bored, Crowley thinks he can annoy you and not face any of your antics. If he wants to spend time with you so much, he should at least call or text ahead. Or go hang out with literally anyone else in this neighborhood. There's not a single person here that doesn't know him by name.

"Get him off!" Crowley sprinted right past you, trying to grab Floyd but his poor hands are covered in slime, "Get him off!"

"Hmm," you splashed around the pond some more. "Nah."

[cursedtrans]

Don and her Identities

So there's a lot of theories and whatnot rolling around about what the reveal means, what it means for Don's character, and what it can mean for the future. But I'd like to take a lens back and see how it changes something fundamental to Don, because every sinner has identities, but none of them are as...drastically affected by what their Canto reveals as Don.

Spoilers under Cut

From here on out I'm referring to "Don Quixote?" as Bloodon for short. Also read @thelordofhats post about Murder on the W Express as I think they have a lot of good thoughts about Bloodon and the event in general.

Bloodon is present in the mirror worlds. We know that from Don having Rocinante in every one of them, including more armored groups like Hammer Und Nagel and T Corp. Wouldn't make sense for her to keep them otherwise. However Bloodon doesn't seem to change a lot about how we view the identities, but I'd like to posit that she makes a world of a difference in understanding Don's position in the world and why she is where she is in mirror worlds. Because there's something VERY specific that seems to clash ALL OTHER MIRROR WORLD DONS from LIMBUS DON. Rule following. In almost every other identity, Don is seen following the rules of some wing or finger or even the head itself as a general fixer. The most notable thing to point to is she isn't a part of the group most against rules, the TLA, unlike fellow problem children Ishy and Heath. We never see a "Kurokumo Hong Lu" situation where she's called out for bending or breaking the rules of those she works under. This is all despite her constantly doing it under Limbus Company (at least until Vergilius tells her to back off) Why is this? I believe it has to do with Bloodon's priorities when it comes to the Don we know and love.

First and foremost, keep her alive.

We've yet to see a sinner's backstory specifically call out Dante like this. Almost as if Dante was part of the contract for Don Quixote. It wouldn't make sense for her to say they were promised. Why Dante was part of the contract is important is up to interpretation. It's possible there's something more, that Bloodon is more aware of the stars like Demian, she wants Don to completely override her, or she is simply scared of death. Either way, she needs to live for long enough to see some change for herself and Don. Thus, she needs both of them alive, hence her primary goal being that.

Secondly, she wants happiness. Lust isn't her base ego's affinity for now reason. It's likely a core part of both Don and Bloodon. If Bloodon is miserable, then it's likely she wants to help herself out of that pit somehow. Likely by making her other self happy in ANY way.

We can see this manifest throughout the mirror worlds and how Bloodon is trying across them. In each world, Don has something she can say she is happy about. Let's go over a few key ones and the way the two rules interact.

W Don! Everyone's favorite depressed and OP don. Bloodon likely setup Don's role in W Corp because of her love of the Warp Trains and the company itself. It seems like a slam dunk. Secure meal everyday, safety being a employee of a wing, and Don is happy! But when Don learns the truth, she becomes far less happy about her position. However, leaving her job is extraordinarily dangerous, if not lethal outright. To leave her Wing means death for a mere fraction of a chance of finding more happiness. Aside from her second uptie chat, she is also quite happy in all of her voicelines, and we don't really get to see how she evolves and adapts to the reality of her otherwise comfy job. It's a bit rough, but Bloodon has to keep her alive, and being a W employee is a pretty safe gig (up until something goes wrong :)

The above mentality also applies well with T Corp and Shi. While Shi is a bit less safe, she's still a director of a numbered Fixer association. She's still fairly comfy, and most of her angst comes from her subordinates suffering and having to take the lives of random individuals (something she also suffers with in T Corp).

As for ones where everything aligns, we have plenty of examples of that. Middle, Lantern, and N Corp Don all are examples of Don being perfectly happy regardless of the morality or duties her job entails, as long as it's presented to her fantasies well. However, all of them still have her following some kind of rules, whether it be the Middle's or the Corps. It's very possible a Don without a leash in the form of Bloodon informing things could very easily fuck it up, and even if Don gets her dream job as a Cing director, she still can't save everyone she wants.

All of these identities illustrate the point that Don can't have it all. Risking her life for civilians means putting her neck on the line, and it's something Bloodon in the mirror worlds isn't setting up for her.

However, it's something Limbus Company can help her with. She can achieve her dreams of being a genuine hero in Limbus Company, because Limbus Company has solved many a problem for many a person. They've saved countless lives from the Time Ripper, helped resolve the distortion that is Papa Bongy, and slain the Pallid Whale. She can be the hero she dreams of...as long as she has enough power.

Consistently, Don has been shown that she can't make it in time or have enough power to save those she wants. We see it most prominently in her desire to save Pilot's crew, where the very laws of the ocean dictate that she did not make it in time. We also see it far more clearly the 'lacking' power in the Warp express.

She so badly WANTS to fix things. She's willing to sacrifice a thousand times over to make sure villains die and the innocent survive. But in this instance, and many others, she can't.

But someone else did. Bloodon was able to salvage the situation Don couldn't. And that's what I think Canto VII will be about.

The fact that, in order for Don to be consistently happy, she needs help to fight the fights she doesn't have a hope of winning. The fact that, in order for Don to build her future, Bloodon has to face the fears that her powers are a part of them both. Afterall, who ate that Warp employee hiding in the secret compartment?

[bigfan-fanfic]

Reclaim (Male!Reader x Dean Winchester)

Could I request Dean's bf taking him out to just spend a day or two doing whatever childhood things he never got to do, no matter how much he huffs about it not being a big deal.  Just fluff and carthartic stuff, that kind of thing

A grumpy bearded man glares at you from a swingset that is far too small for him, his bowed legs bent pretty far.

"Are you happy now?"

You chuckle. "You didn't even swing."

"It's too small."

"Then go use the big boy set. Not my fault you wanted to go for the kiddie swings."

He huffs and stands indignantly.

you laugh harder. "This was kinda supposed to be fun, Dean."

"But, like... this is all kid's stuff."

"You're never too old for some of this stuff!" you cry, and pull him along to the swings. "Don't you have any fun stuff you used to do as a kid?"

"Uh... target practice with Dad?"

"Wow. Yeesh."

"What?"

"So, like... you never really got to have a childhood."

"Dude. You can't just say crap like that to someone's face. Besides, it's not a big deal. I can-"

"I know what we're doing today!"

"Oh boy."

You challenge Dean to see who can get higher on the swings before you chicken out - mainly to stop your competitive boyfriend from trying to go all the way over.

And then when you hear the tinny calliope noises of an ice cream truck you go running, calling out for Dean to come with you, and you both chase down the truck.

It's silly and stupid, but then the ice cream salesman tells you about the fair in town, and you give Dean an excited stare.

"......"

"...."

"...fine."

Dean usually doesn't get to stay in any town long enough for any local events, so a county fair is still relatively new to him.

The overwhelming amount of sight and sound is enough to burst his bubble of attempted adult disapproval, and you catch a glimpse of the goofy kid he probably would have been.

He grins, and eventually takes the lead in pulling you to the different attractions.

You gorge yourself on fried county fair food - Dean is in fried heaven, defying all the angels to come up with a food better than the fried oreo, but even his insatiable appetite can't conquer a huge funnel cake with a dollop of ice cream that won't even melt all the way on the hot day because it's so big - not without your assistance.

You make him do the petting zoo, and he tries to impress you at the dunk tank, pitching a fastball that sends some cute local guy splashing.

He wins you prizes, accepts those you win for him, and admits that it's probably just about as fun as that time his dad took him into a bar for the first time and showed him how to hustle pool.

For now, you'll take it.

He even lets you drive home, since he's tuckered himself out so much. You let him lean against you, and you grin to yourself when you hear him quietly ask-

"Can we go again tomorrow?"

[lastoneout]

Okay, honest question, who is Yotsuba?

OH HO HO ANON I AM ALL TOO HAPPY TO EXPLAIN :3

Yotsuba is a character from the greatest manga ever made, Yotsuba&!(or Yotsuba to! it translates weird, most fans just call it Yotsuba) which is a comedy slice-of-life manga about Yotsuba Koiwai, a five year old girl, and her very strange yet wholesome family and friends!

It's from the same mangaka who gave us Azumanga Daioh, though while that manga is told in a four-panel comic style and doesn't really have much of an overarching plot, Youtsuba is done in a traditional manga style and despite also being very episodic there is a bit of a throughline surrounding Youtsuba getting settled into the neighborhood she just moved to, growing up, and eventually, in the later chapters, getting ready to go to school for the first time. Also, there are storylines that take place over multiple chapters as well! Despite the fact that the manga has been releasing since 2003, the chapters are pretty sporadic and the comic has only really covered about one year of the character's lives, but it never really feels slow or aimless. It feels almost...timeless? I guess. It's really nice.

Anyway, the manga is legit one of the most wholesome, funny, heartwarming things I have ever read. Kiyohiko Azuma is a fucking MASTER of comedy(you may have seen screencaps from a Sailor Moon fan comic he made going around on tumblr in which Jupiter accidentally sends Venus shooting across a pool that made me laugh so hard I cried) and he balances it well with lots of slow moments with GORGEOUS artwork where you can really take in the scenery and all of it is seeped in a wonderful nostalgia for childhood that legit makes me super emotional.

I don't think the manga has ever really taken off in terms of popularity, at least not to the degree that it deserves imo, which is likely in part due to the creator being firm about it never getting an anime adaptation and the sporadic release schedule, but it's far from unknown. There's been an official(I think??) score released and plenty of figurines and merch. It's also birthed a lot of memes, and it def has the same issue as One Piece where if you read it and love it you will turn into a walking billboard and try to drag your friends and family in with you. It's just THAT good!

You may have seen art of or people cosplaying Danbo, a "robot" made of old cardboard boxes that Yotsuba adores (Totally a real robot btw, def doesn't have a middle schooler shoved inside there, that would be silly wdym /s)

And this pose from the back of one of the manga volumes featuring Yotsuba, her father, and their extremely tall friend Jumbo has been redrawn with other characters like 500000 billion times

And you've also probably seen this going around tumblr before (that's Fūka she's my favorite cringe fail daughter I would literally die for her).

Also, I would be doing a disservice if I didn't mention Yanda, who is a friend of Yotsuba's dad and also Yotsuba's nemesis. He's a loser who constantly gets dunked on by a toddler it's fucking hilarious.

But yeah it really is just like, a manga that feels like a hug, or a warm blanket or something, it's so comforting and funny and fantastic, I find myself re-reading it any time life gets to be too hard just bcs it's that good at distracting me and reminding me that live is worth living.

And also given that it's literally my favorite manga, I saved up a bunch of screencaps to use as reaction images after a read one time, and thus now it's my own little joke that if you send me anon hate I'm just gonna send you back a picture of this cutie

Bcs come on how can you be angry when you're looking at this???

Anyway here's some screencaps of the main supporting cast bcs I love all of them so much <3

YOU WILL READ YOTSUBA I AM NO LONGER ASKING

[demigods-posts]

percabeth headcanons that live rent free in my head (disclaimer: they're adults in all of these, so most of these are a bit ✨ spicy ✨ so read with caution lol):

• percy loves watching annabeth workout. specifically, anything that has to do with her arms and back because of how muscular she is in those areas. seriously. you try to focus when your girlfriend puts her hair in a tight bun and grips onto the pull-up bar and lifts her weight off the ground and the veins in her biceps pulsate and the muscles in her upper back contract as the sweat beads down her body and—

• ^^^ annabeth knows he loves it, so she purposefully puts pulls up at the end of her set so percy can jog over to the training area after teaching sword fighting lessons and drool over her because she likes the hold she has on him

• annabeth is a unit. she is a warrior. she is the moment and nothing in the world can break her focus and shit, percy is shirtless. look, it's not a crime to stare at her muscular and incredibly hot boyfriend when he emerges from the camp lake dripping wet and shirtless and smiling at her and his shorts are just barely clinging onto his hips and—

• ^^^ percy knows she loves it. he's not an idiot. he doesn't will himself dry for the sole purpose of rendering his girlfriend speechless. he likes the hold he has on her

• percy is pretty, okay? he's a pretty boy, and annabeth calls him this all of the time whenever they're alone and percy just blushes and buries his head in her hair and annabeth adores it

• annabeth orders a skirt online because she wants to experiment with her style, except it's a little too big on her. percy jokingly offers to try it on for size and annabeth, newly intrigued at the thought, practically commands that he do just that. so he does and the moment is an awakening for the both of them

• percy ends up really liking how wearing skirts makes him feel so they buy more and more skirts for him to wear and annabeth is super supportive (and she also like seeing her boyfriend in skirts. sue her)

• annabeth once surprised percy in a tux for their anniversary dinner and holy fuck. straightened hair. eyeliner. rings on her fingers. all of it. she feels hot embracing a more masculine attire and percy couldn't agree more

• ^^ annabeth also got percy a bouquet of flowers on this date and he cherishes that bouquet like it's his most prized posession

• they have matching necklaces. annabeth wear a necklace that says 'seaweedbrain' and percy wears one that says 'wisegirl' and they never take them off

• this one is incredibly specific so don't @ me but one night on their honeymoon, annabeth gets a little more drunk than they anticipate and almost lights their marriage certificate on fire

• of course, percy fucking panics and dunks water all over her and the certificate because what the fuck, babe? we've only been married for a week. what could have possibly happened to make you regret marrying me this quickly?

• and hilariously enough, because annabeth was drunk, all she remembers is getting dunked with water for ✨ no reason ✨ so she likes to fuck with him and say that percy tried to murder her on their honeymoon

• "our honeymoon was pretty much perfect except for when you tried to drown me, asshole" "no the fuck i-!" "if you hate me, just say it." "annabeth-" "bitch." "annabeth-!"

[nishnormp]

cheavy ramblings

Been thinking about the stinky BLU classic heavy from the comics lately. He's basically the villain of the final issues, and was practically built to be unlikeable from the start so his defeat could be more satisfying; buut since its been years since an update came out and I am slowly going insane, I think it would be funky to explore him more (bonus cmedic feature)

Few disclaimers: I'm not excusing his actions (I myself think hes a bitch) and I do NOT ship him with tf2 medic (also I dont think tf2 medic is unmasked cmedic bc 1)why would he sabotage himself in the issues by acting like That 2)uhh reasons later 3)this panel) also some of my takes aren't original, but I've expanded on em a bit

P1: Medic hater activities

As we all know, cheavy's greatest sin was dunking on + killing tf2 medic

Somehow he and tfc demo got sidetracked by medic's question, but the most hostile he gets towards tf2 medic here is jeering at the fact that they're going to hunt down his old team; which tf2 medic doesn't seem bothered by.

( @number1yisuchongfan actually brought this up before me) This panel pretty much sums up why cheavy is pissed: medic was implied to have a record of being weird with parts (he lost his license bc he stole a man's skeleton), he blew ALL of his budget meant for healing on exotic parts (that he put in cheavy's teammates), AND he revived the enemy (said enemy slips away a few panels later just as cheavy gets informed that three of his mercs died).

(also, the weird p3do tfc scout and soldier arent included in the 'three good men', since they died much later) Speaking of the 'good men' comment-

P2: Good leader at some point?? Not anymore tho

Hes gruff and an ass, but cheavy has a soft spot for his team; the tf2 mercs call each other strictly by their classes, but the tfc ones know each other names (also see cheavy's way of describing his dead teammates and his immediate reaction to go over there rather than curse/assume their incompetence)

He gets curious about australium, and from here on out he gets fixated on it- enough to be more unreasonable than usual. Cheavy is pretty amicable with Bea, and the way he acts with her is probably more in-character for what he was like back in his prime rather than the hot-tempered man that the later panels show.

I mean . He and his team were highly recommended and even took out ALL of the admin's elite teams, leaving the tf2 team for last. He may be a drill sergeant, but I don't think he was a genuine tyrant for most of his career; they aren't purely business-basis with each other (some of them formed close bonds, like fred and virgil), plus- any elite team would be able to capitalize on an overly prideful and control freaky leader (+a constantly demoralized team) sooner.

With three of his mercs dead and his plans failing against a team that he saw as rejects, the mental strain is showing badly. Tfc mercs don't have much personality in their games (or their own comic about them during their prime) but one of the few dynamics mentioned is between the Heavy and the Engineer+Medic. Tfc engie is the one who stepped up to ask about cheavy's plans, and he also gets the brunt of his anger. Earlier, cheavy answered bea's question and encouraged her, but now he's yelling and mocking the capabilities of one of the men he coordinates with the most.

Tfc scout's line may just be him not understanding/underestimating australium (esp since apparently cheavy had to ask grey mann what it even did), but it also reads as him seeing cheavy having officially gone off his rocker; his shaky grasp over leadership might kill the team before being deprived of yellow rocks does. Both scout and engie are thrown off by his attitude, implying that cheavy isn't usually like this (I can't imagine them being coordinated if they all shrimp away like that).

His line of thinking for both of these situations are pretty questionable. For the first one, he knows that the bots extract australium from the body, but he also knows that the mercs likely have nothing in them anyways (note the emphasis on his dead mercs, this is him taking revenge but also he is NAWT going to get any australium for those extra immortality machines which is still a pressing issue for his engie). In the second one, he first tells medic that they'll try figuring out how to stitch the machine on him, which leads to medic stabbing him and cheavy retaliating. Cheavy then goes all the way with attempting to kill him, stating that he'll just gets his answers from the administrator. Its soon revealed that he wants to fight tf2 heavy, but even that is ??? Like cheavy knows that he and his team are old as hell, but he's going to try having a fair fight with a guy in his prime anyways? He didn't even know that he could just slap on the machine at the time, and the unnecessary risk for what seems to be a quest to satisfy his ego is antithetical to his supposed goal of getting the rocks and making his team immortal. At this point, his hatred of medic has completely overridden his rationality; there were many ways for him to have killed both of them, yet he didn't take em.

P3: Cmedic

I saw some posts abt how cheavy is likely coded as homophobic due to how he treats medic (a presumably gay-coded character) bc of the "stay in the kitchen"-esque dialogue, and the way cheavy undermines him in verbal + physical ways. I do not have a very solid defense for this . aside from everything I listed before.

Just to clarify, I think its cheavy's fault for alienating medic from the start: loss of medical license aside, medic's inventions DO work splendidly for healing. Would it have been more concerning since medic is . meant to heal? Maybe. But mercs are literal murderers for hire, personality quirks should be the last of their priorities. The guy is passionate about showing off his stuff, and he was even enthusiastic about getting on the battlefield and healing cheavy. I'm not saying medic was going to be 100% loyal, but he's willing to do his job for the classics as long as he wasn't disrespected so damn much.

The tfc mercs with personalities are ones that oppose their tf2 counterpart; tfc sniper is a sadist rather than a swift professional, tfc pyro is...also a sadist rather than having tf2 pyro's misguided bubbliness, and cheavy does not respect his team's (current) medic. This in conjunction with the complete and utter lack of not just presence but also mention of tfc medic leads to the popular belief that the guy just up and left because of the disrespect.

(Writing inconsistencies be damned I like to cope) so what if it wasn't the case?

These are one of the few lines in tfc that describe a cooperative nature between certain classes. Like I mentioned earlier, tfc has less media compared to tf2 so its easy to slot personalities onto them as villains (tfc sniper's gun blowing people into giblets kinda helps), but I don't think these can be ignored. Fred was the one who represented the rest of the team's opinions to cheavy, and the phrasing in the second pic is even stronger; the heavymedic duo was always a thing, even in tfc.

Sort of. Gameplay-wise, cmedic is more like a roided out scout armed with a medkit that can give enemies and disguised spies tuberculosis, grenades that can send him across the map, and a gun that can destroy sentries (situational). He doesn't need to cling to his more offensive teammates as much as tf2 medic, and while his kit can instantly heal a teammate to full no matter the percentage + give overheal- its strictly melee ranged and has no ubercharge. In a narrative sense, cmedic would most likely oppose tf2 medic as a more 'grounded' healer. He prevents damage to his team by erasing enemies himself, doesn't go too overboard with his biochemical arsenal (his brew is potent but hes stuck with the melee-ranged kit and no crazy mechanic like uber), and can typically run off by himself (provided he isn't jumped by two soldiers or smth). Its a matter of game design, but can translate to the comics in an interesting way.

Medic is the only one who speaks of cmedic, and while the mention itself has no violent reaction- no one else speaks of him. I can't imagine him being easily forgotten since the heavymedic duo is just too iconic, so what if smth exceptionally horrible just happened to him? If cmedic was close to cheavy than everyone else, his loss/disappearance could explain cheavy's immediate dislike for tf2 med; not only replacing his own med, but with the complete opposite in terms of personality as well.

(I could expand on cmedic more, but this post is already long enough as is so I'll probably just make a separate one gah)