#i may be cooking with this one

[k1ttyc0rner]

lowk need a butch that has some kinda deep and sort of scary carnal desire for me

[ellie-ramune]

I love merventurine so so much but consider: swan (peacock) maiden aventurine

[platoapproved]

iwtv ships + book quotes

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Dungeon Meshi: The RPG

[ch3rubd0lls]

shoot me if this doesn't make sense but post-retirement brocedes ugh

the contrast of nico getting married and settling for the quiet life, trying to be content with the fact that it's really all over and he's just going to have to be okay with that because it was for the better. To lewis, who was written all over tabloids on boats w/ models and skydiving and who knows what. How far can a man run until he runs out of ground? How long until he's going to have to face what he did, and what that says about him as a teammate, as a person?

At the end of the day, things settle, lewis grows and nico leaves the past behind, but god i wonder if they will ever truly be done mourning what they had. Do they still see it when they see each other in those stupid post-race interviews? I wonder if they ever think of frosties and greece and the days as teammates and the days as best friends. How do you live with that loss without ripping yourself open i could never.

[anbaisai]

A continuation of this post by @skriblee-ksk, in which Kalmia is left to ponder for the rest of class what Mayu meant...

[bluemew0]

on the path that continues in blue

twitter ✦ etsy ✦ instagram

[fatuismooches]

I feel like we don't talk more about how dottore feels about his s/o being zandy's parental figure, his younger self, no less. Like, he would feel a certain way when reader holds zandy like a parent would and cooing at him. When reader picks up zandy (when they've managed to gain that strength) from under the armpits and carry him like a child.

YES! In general, Dottore didn't expect you to become so attached to all of his segments. He anticipated you getting to know them and all, due to loneliness and other things, but you love them all very much. Which is a miscalculation on his part, he probably should have expected it with your nature. Though, he's not sure whether to be flattered or annoyed that your love for him runs that deep. If he had it his way, he'd keep all your attention on him... but you seem all too willing to divide your attention, despite there being only one of you and a dozen or so of them... He sort of applauds your management.

However, regarding Zandy his feelings seem unclear. It's clear that he created the segments to preserve his perspectives and help him further his knowledge, but there was no real relationship outside of that. However, for you, it's the opposite. Each relationship you have with the segments is unique, especially your one with Dottore's child self. At first, the Harbinger didn't pay much attention to it. But it became increasingly obvious how much you loved Zandy.

From the moment you met the kid, you chose to open yourself up to him fully without any reserve. You chose to indulge Zandy's every childish whim and listened to him, no matter how dumb it seemed. You chose to love him, something his birth parents didn't do even though they were supposed to. (And you choose to carry him in your arms despite lacking the strength... apparently, you promised him the first thing you'd do once you recover was to give Zandy a proper piggyback ride.) Is his child self truly that lovable? The same one deemed a monster, a heretic? If he looks at your actions, then the apparent answer is a resounding yes.

Still, despite these feelings, he doesn't say a word to you about them. He merely looks on contemplatively, still barely uttering any words to his child self. Maybe if you keep trying, you can get the two, so vastly different on the outside, yet perhaps similar on the inside, to become closer...?

[butch-with-a-deep-voice]

Me: Trans masc/trans man butches are sacred and deserve a space in the sapphic community as much as any other butch Also me: Can I please have a single post on this site about butches that refer to me, a butch, as a girl? As a treat? I really don't like being called a boy

[z0mbie2b0y]

Stiles wasn't human, well they don't exactly know what he is but he's something.

It was something everyone suspected but never voiced out loud unless in a joking or teasing manner but soon after Stiles visited relatives in Poland they saw signs, signs of things that couldn't be explained or understood, even though they checked the Bestiary they couldn't find it... Deaton or Chris didn't know and even their contacts. So they did the best thing they could, they went back to where it all started which was a fucking cave in the woods near Stiles's grandmother's home...

(Ehhh might add more might drop it

[m0d3rnpr0m3th3us]

eldritchpilled horrormaxxer. why so incident? -the bifroster

[robiinurheart33]

I’m SUCH a sucker for drunk calls/texts confessing their love and y’all know I gotta project it onto ghoap (buckle up guys its a long one I had to break it into two parts SORRY) pt. 2 (clicks for Palestine)

Soap’s blood is pumping. He can feel it heat up in his cheeks in the form of a blush, giggles bubbling up in his throat and his mind loose enough to just sew together a semblance of a bad idea.

Deployment had been boring at first. Stuck at home with unending nervous energy, fingers twitching and aching for the solid feel of a gun, the rough texture of his vest, the adrenaline clapping him on the shoulder before shooting through his veins like a drug. It was so unendingly dull. It’s not like he had anyone waiting for him at his apartment in Glasgow, and their break time was too short to visit his Ma.

So why not invite a few buddies out to drink? No harm, no foul.

Well, that’s what he initially thought. A couple hours later of wheezing and pounding of the table, shoes sticking to the ground and the smell of booze wafting though the air, Soap could confidently say that he was wasted. He’s leaning heavily on his buddy, chum, pal, that he for the life of him cannot remember right now. He’s swaying from side to side, feeling unusually breathless as he mumbles what could be the song that’s playing right now. He’s not sure. He combs his fingers through his hair, scratching a bit anxiously at the nape of his neck. Soap’s not sure if he wants to cry or laugh or vomit right about now. Pretty sure that’s a sign to fuck off, pass out on his bed and deal with the rest tomorrow.

Soap pushes off his… friend? Wait, did he even come with him? And heads towards the general direction where the toilet is. Might as well not look like a homeless person before heading home, wouldn’t wanna scare anyone. His head is spinning, pounding, loud, loud, loud, and nowhere near done with its madness. Soap slams his hand on the wall beside the toilet door, squinting and hoping the door he’s reaching for is the actual door, not it’s double. He does, in fact, get the right door (small miracles), and pushes it open.

He fumbles with his zipper and exhales heavily as he relieves himself. The man beside him in the toilet exits with a sniffle and stumbles out, the music getting louder for a second before the door closes again. Soap leans heavily against the sink counter and washes his hands, placing his fingers together and splashing water onto his face. Soap drags his hands down before greyish-blue eyes look back at him with a piercing stare. He blinks, and re-evaluates again. His hair is flopping to one side, weighed down by sweat. His face is flushed and his skin glows slightly with a thin sheen of sweat, his freckles just shy of being seen under his rosy cheeks, eyebags evident through the haze. He looks down and- oh. It appears his attempt at splashing his face with water wasn’t as successful as he’d hoped, half of his shirt drenched in water. Soap tugs loosely at the corner of his sleeves, releasing the bundled up fabric at his pits. He frowns in discomfort as the sticky heat of his arms lay back down against his skin. He sighs once more, not really feeling like his lungs are filling with oxygen, turning around and laying his hip against the counter lazily before pulling out his phone. 0237. He swipes down on his home screen and pouts at the “no new notifications” tab. He unlocks his phone and swipes through his contacts, unsure of who to drunk text at this hour. Gaz is probably asleep by now, if anyone has a spotless sleeping schedule, it’d be him. Price would have his head on a platter if he texted him about anything non-military business. Laswell, no. Ghost?

Huh.

Ghost…could be someone he could text. Soap isn’t quite sure if he would be awake right now. Do ghosts even need sleep? He huffs at his little comment, tapping on their chat together. Do they have the kind of relationship where soap can dramatically drunk text Ghost at 2am right now? Soap lets out a little bemused huff when he sees that he reached a dead end to their chat after one swipe of his thumb. Of course. Right bastard doesn’t text anyone. He tilts his head up to meet the flickering white light of the bathroom ceiling, watching water damage and mold streak across the concrete. Ghost… how is he during deployment? Does he still wear that mask around the relative safety of his own apartment? Does he have any hobbies? Does he go to the gym as well? Does he long to be back on base? Does he long to be back in the chaos of the war zone, alongside soap? Does he think of soap? Does he ever think to- before Soap knows what he’s even doing, his fingers clumsily type out a greeting.

Hwlli

That’s not quite right.

Gellp

Nope.

Hellu

Oh my god.

Hello

There we go! Soap smiles giddily at his screen, bringing it closer to his face before very carefully writing a much more sophisticated and brilliant follow up.

U up?

He’s the smartest person in the entire world. He supposes a part of himself preens at the thought of even just being able to text someone like Ghost. Big, bad, Ghost. He decidedly does not giggle like a schoolgirl. Just as his mind starts to wander back to the world outside the sickly bathroom, his phone vibrates, and looks down in confusion.

Drunk?

Soap frowns.

Who

You.

Wanna try anf gues, Lt?

You are drunk.

He says it like it’s a fact, like he knows everything. It annoys Soap, much more than it should. He supposes that it could maybe be something to do with the massive amounts of alcohol thrumming through his bloodstream at the moment, but he knows for a fact that it slices through his brain, presses against his throat and contracts his chest.

Yiu think so?

I know so.

Soap thinks Ghost is being a real dick right now.

Ittle know iy all

You’re drunk, Johnny. What do you want me to do about it?

Johnny. Johnny. Johnny. His head spins. If he closes his eyes and imagines hard enough, he can hear the raspy gravel of Ghost’s solid, thick British accent murmuring commanders into his ear. Speaking of noises, his brain starts to register more of the music from outside, the start of a song that Soap can vaguely remember, but he can’t quite put his finger on it right now. The electric guitar, drums and bass all purr in his subconciousness, his lips parting over the words, moving silently as he tries to pinpoint exactly where in the song he is right now. There’s this tune… think of you.. repeat, until I fall asleep, spilling drinks on my settee…do I wanna know? Soap whispers, his mind curling and his ribs creaking. He feels like he’s truly, deeply losing it now, fingers slowly loosening over his phone. His head feels too big and his cheeks are burning, his shirt too tight against his chest and arms and his toes too restricted under his shoes. Everything was funny and everything was too bright and shiny and yearning and blurring and he wishes Ghost was here and he wishes everything was different and he wishes life could just be a little bit easier and-

His phone is vibrating.

Crawling back to you.

[hercarisntyours]

la créature

[begrudging-fudanshi]

Do you think Sakura will go back to the old town in certain arc ?

Assuming you mean wherever his guardians live(d), I hope not tbh. Wind Breaker is a very local story for its genre—as far as I can tell, everything important happens within walking distance of Furin—so I kinda prefer it to stay in Makochi as much as possible. (I have a thing I'm writing about this that I'll post at some point.) Based on what we know, I also don't really see what Sakura has to gain from going back.

If anything happens in this vein, I would actually prefer for Sakura's past to catch up with him in Makochi. Having some old enemy appear and threaten him would be a great way to show how far he's come, as well as to catalyze his progress towards seeing worth in himself.

I started sketching an example of how I might like that kind of arc to go and it kinda turned out a lot longer than I expected, so here's... uh... actually, I don't entirely know what this is. It's like a short fanfic mashed up with the meta I'd write about these moments if they were canon. Speculative meta? Metafic? Just a weird fanfic? idk 🤷‍♂️

Anyway, not saying this will/should be canon or anything, but it feels like it gets the gist of what I'd look for in this kind of arc.

(CW: abusive parents. Sakura's dad is the villain here.)

---

When Sakura was young, his dad was a petty criminal, street thug, and an all-around horrible father. When Sakura was 7 or 8, the man was arrested and sentenced to prison. Sakura's mom wasn't in the picture, so Sakura had to go live with relatives (leading to the scenario I've described previously), and afterward he hardly ever saw his dad—their only contact was when the man came to demand money from his relatives for this or that. As far as Sakura was concerned, once he moved to Makochi, his father was out of his life for good.

One day, however, Sakura's dad appears in Makochi, searching for him. He's somehow learned that Sakura has become a strong fighter in a town full of violent gangs, so he's decided that he's going to take advantage of Sakura to build a nice life for himself on the back of his son's hard work. Thus, he comes to Makochi expecting to walk all over Sakura and get whatever he wants.

When Sakura first sees his dad on Tonpu Market Street, he freezes, caught off guard by painful memories that he's desperately tried to forget. Even though he's come a long way, it's difficult to fully let go of the past.

Suo and Nirei are with him and can tell that he's terrified. Sakura mutters to them that this is his father, but he doesn't sound remotely happy to see him. The man tells them to go away, but they stand their ground, refusing to leave Sakura alone. This pisses the man off, so he attacks, intending to teach them a lesson.

Sakura's dad is caught off guard by Suo and even Nirei's strength, but the same goes in reverse as he decides to go all out. As Sakura sees his friends struggling, he jumps into the fight, punching his dad in the face (big symbolic moment!). The trio just barely manage to hold their ground until other Bofurin members start to show up. As their backup arrives, the man finally retreats, but before he goes, he declares that he's going to get revenge. He says that Sakura has forgotten his place and he's going to remind him what his life is really supposed to be like—he'll take away everything Sakura has and show him just what he really deserves.

What follows is a campaign of revenge, carefully calculated to destroy Sakura's life and take everything he has. (A campaign that I'm not going to detail right now, because my ideas for it are depressing and beside the point.)

Let's skip ahead a bit...

Somehow all of the threats are resolved, leaving only the matter of fighting Sakura's dad and kicking his ass hard enough that he'll give up.

Just before the big, climactic fight, Sakura gets ready to face his father one-on-one, trying to stay calm and steady himself. He's caught off guard when his friends jump in front of him and tell him to let them handle the fight.

"Get out of the way!" Sakura yells at them, his voice breaking. "He's... he's my dad. This is my fight. I have to deal with this." The most important word is the one he doesn't even think to say out loud: he has to deal with this alone.

Even with so many people around him showing him that he's loved, Sakura still ultimately believes that he's all by himself. Even though he's tried to rely on his friends to prove that he trusts them, in moments like this when he feels most vulnerable, his default instinct is still to shoulder the burden alone.

His friends can all see this clearly. More importantly, they can see that this is a battle that Sakura shouldn't have to fight on his own—or at all. He deserves to have someone stick up for him, just like he's stuck up for so many others. But they know he doesn't want to hear that, so they tell him off, instead.

"Your fight? To hell with that. We all owe this guy some payback for what he's done."

"C'mon, Sakura, let us have some glory for once. It makes us feel bad when you keep hogging all the action."

"We already know how strong you are—let us show you how much stronger we've gotten, too!"

"Plus, the way this guy treats you makes us really want to kick his ass. Don't tell us you're gonna rob us of that satisfaction."

Sakura sputters in confusion, not sure how to respond. His deepest reflexes are telling him to stop them before it's too late, because this is how he's always believed he would finally lose everything. If he can't fight, if he can't prove his worth through his strength, then what is he worth at all?

This leads to a cool symbolic moment: Sakura is standing there, watching all his friends walk away from him while making it clear they expect him to stay behind. In other words, he's seeing the scene that's haunted him for so long finally playing out in real life. How many times has he pictured this and felt sick with terror and dread?

In his heart, he always knew this day would come. The day when his friends finally saw through him—finally realized who he really was and what he was really worth—and unanimously turned their backs. That would be the day he finally woke up from this dream and found himself back in his old, real life. The life he was always meant to live. Hated by all others, worth nothing but his fists, and totally, utterly alone.

Except, in reality, this scene isn't anything like he imagined it at all. His friends aren't turning their backs on him because they're abandoning him. Instead, they've turned to fight for him, to protect him, just as he's fought and protected them. Not only that, they're doing it willingly—eagerly, even—with smiles on their faces. There's no hint of condemnation, no suggestion that they're doing this because they think he's weak. They just want to help him, in spite of his belief this is his battle to fight alone.

In chapter 138, Sakura says something very telling to himself: "If I lose now, then they—then I'll lose the place where they belong, the one place that they cherish and love. I don't want that. [...] I need to win and protect them. That's all that matters." He draws these lines so clearly between himself and his friends, placing himself on the outside looking in. Now, however, that moment comes full circle with the roles reversed, making the truth so clear that he can't deny it.

As his friends stride forward, Sakura suddenly realizes, in a way that he can't yet put to words, where he really is: He's not on the outside looking in at his friends in the place that they love. Instead, as they spread out before him to form a defensive line, he is standing firmly in that very place that they all want to protect. If they're defending him like this, then they're saying that he belongs in this place, too—and if that's the case, then he, too, is someone they cherish and love.

This realization cuts deep—even deeper than words, cutting into feelings that he's held for so long that he's never even thought to try to name them. It cuts deep enough to finally undermine and start to shake his most fundamental belief. He can no longer deny that his friends accept him and love him for more than just his ability to fight. Why else would they be lining up to fight for him like this?

More than that, he can no longer deny that what they see in him must somehow be real. Until now, he's always unconsciously dismissed his friends' most meaningful praise and kindness as simply wrong. Even if they thought they meant it, he just didn't see how it could be true. When Umemiya smiled at him and called him amazing (chapter 162), Sakura had felt like Umemiya was looking at a completely different person, like he'd made some mistake and confused him with somebody else. He could believe that Umemiya meant it, but not that it truly applied to him. In the same way, he viewed all their kindness and love with that deep distrust. But here, he can't bring himself to doubt all his friends at once. They're all too determined for this to be some kind of mistake or mass delusion.

In the end, Sakura's friends work together to stop his dad, thoroughly kick his ass, and send him packing. As usual for this series, that's enough to stop the threat for good.

Afterward, Sakura probably cries and undergoes a fundamental change in how he sees himself and his place in the world. It's not like all his past trauma is magically fixed or his low self-esteem instantly gets better overnight, but he's made a big step towards seeing worth in himself.

[bkdk-prophet]

If Izuku sees and addresses the scars Katsuki took for him when they eventually talk post-war what do we do

[57sfinest]

also yall we need to step back from the harryvision and understand that kim, at his core, is a loser (affectionate) like everyone else. so much out there wants to portray him as limitless patience, great cook, super organized, good handwriting, nice tasteful living quarters etc and that's fun to contrast him to harry but well i am here to RUIN that we need to take off the du bois glasses and appreciate kim for the weirdguy that he is. he has horrific fits of road rage and harry genuinely fears for his life riding along with him and witnessing the generational curses this man is capable of unleashing upon the stupid little fucks that cut him off on the 8/81. he has never had the time or space or budget to learn to cook so he lives off deli sandwiches and butter noodles and the occasional grab-and-go fruit. he writes so much so frequently with such awful handwriting that he has invented a new form of shorthand and the moralintern is contacting him to create a cipher system for them. he has no resources to furnish and maintain a nice flat so it's like a slightly gentrified r/malelivingspace but with a table for his sewing machine and there's scrap fabric and thread and half-pinned half-hemmed pants strewn about the place. there are absolutely a bunch of shitty mockups of his old wirral character in the backs of his notebooks and he hasn't played it in years but if he ever picks it back up then his minmax high int high dex definitely-not-a-self-insert sidhe artificer is READY. everyone add your weirdguy kim thoughts NOW 👇