#i think i saw something similar to this before

[sucodelaranja86]

U ate the jealous! Cho Hyun-Ju request up fr!! Especially the suggestive part lmaoo I love it

Do u think we could get a Hyun-Ju x reader where we suffer a knee injury during one of the games which we try to keep quiet about until one of the other players (maybe young-mi) notices n tries to help us out w it which catches the attention of Hyun-Ju who gets upset n scolds us but were to stubborn to listen n wave her worries off until our injury hurts more n we begrudgingly go to her for help?

- don't hide it from me : ★

featuring: hyun-ju cho x reader

summary: you suffered a knee injury in the middle of the game, but you were too stubborn to tell her.

warnings: slight angst.

A/N: i am taking too long to write more fics, i'm sorry 😭 also, as every single squid game work i do, young-mi lives 😋

★ . ★ . ★ . ★

‣ as you walk out of the second game field amongside your previous group, your heart was still racing from the horrifying experience while you made your way back to the giant dormitory, the peaceful silence of the place creating a harsh contrast to the tense atmosphere you had just left behind. The weight of what was happening began to settle as you sat down once again in the staircase. You haven't expected being put on such a deadly game, and the gravity of the situation made itself clear to you at each passing moment.

‣ but you couldn't deny that what shocked you even more was to find your partner here. One of the only connections you had in the outside world was also put in this messed up game. And judging by the reaction she had when she first saw you, it seemed the feeling was also mutual on her part.

‣ she saw you first in the "green light, red light" game, you were surprised as you felt a familiar grip on you, pushing you in a panicked manner behind her. And in the six-legs game, you stood by her side, hugging her arm close to you.

‣ you 5 were the second group to play and the first one to pass, meaning the dormitory would be empty and silent until the following groups finished their turns. The young man settled in his bed with a loud sigh, laying relaxedly with his mother who also had a similar relieved expression on her face. Hyun-ju sat alone in her bed, a thoughtful expression on her face, while the short, timid girl never left your side. As she sat down next to you, she hugged your arm excitedly.

‣ ― we- we did it! ― young-mi stuttered happily. As she finished saying that, she elbowed you playfully, but what she didn't expect was to see you flinch painfully while hissing. Her expression quickly turned into one of concern, straighten her posture as she looked at you worriedly.

‣ ― [name]? What is it? A-are you alright? ― she mumbled, putting one shaky hand on your back. You looked at her, sensing her worry. ― i'm alright. I just- i think i just gave a bad turn and injured my knee. ― you confessed. Young-mi anxiously looked around, trying to figure out what she should do. She remembered what you said earlier- that you knew Hyun-ju before entering here. And that was the first solution that came into her mind.

‣ The short-haired girl then shakily got up, not taking her hands and gaze away from you, ― i-i'm going to get unnie- she must know what to do- ― you quickly interrupted her sentence with a desperate grunt, holding the girl's wrist for dear life.

‣ ―no- don't. Please. ― even if your voice held a stern tone, you almost begged. Ever since the beginning of this game, you could notice something was wrong with Hyun-ju. At the end of the first game, you two swore to go back home- except she didn't follow that promise, ashamedly clicking on the blue 'O' button. And now, it didn't seem her opinion would change, you could see through her. You know how big of an opportunity this was to change to change both of your lives, and mostly how big of a step it would be to help with her transition. As much as she was ashamed to admit to you, and only you- she couldn't leave this early in the game.

‣ and you didn't want to worry her.

‣ hearing your determined tone, the girl silently nodded, quietly going back to her spot. ― but... Please, treat this as soon as you can. Being injured in a place like this is no good. ― she advised apprehensively. You nodded softly, wanting nothing more than to reassure her that you could manage.

-

‣ you held your pained grunts as you tried to massage your knee without waking up anyone. As the lights turned off, you rapidly pulled your pants up to try to access the situation your injury was. Now finally having time to take a better look at it, even in the dark, you could see how purple and bruised it looked. You had no experience in this field, but tried your best to make the aching pain go away with the little knowledge you had.

‣ you let out a shocked gasp as you felt a strong hand on your shoulder, backing off just to quickly stop due to the throbbing pain. As you fearfully turned your head around, you were met with the stoic face of no one other than Hyun-ju. Her face was turned down as she nonchalantly sat on your bed.

‣ she grabbed your wrists and easily took them off of your knee, earning an agonizing hiss from you. You looked at her, a confused expression on your face as you tried to find the right words to express your thoughts. ― how... How did you know i- ―

‣ ― young-mi. ― she answered shortly, cutting you off without further explanation. Well, it's not like you needed it. She replaced your hands with hers on where they where previously, massaging your knee with a more strong and experienced grip.

‣ after a short period of silence, she continued. ― you should have told me. You can't be this reckless. ― she stated in a low and frustated tone, not letting place for any discussion.

‣ you could only sigh as you allowed her treat you, the pain gradually subsiding. As she finished, you continued looking down ashamedly without muttering a word. As if on cue to act, you received an unasked, but welcomed kiss to your lips, the tense atmosphere quickly shattering down. You looked up to see the previous stern expression on her face gone, replaced by a more soft and caring one.

‣ ― please, don't hesitate to tell me if something happens. I wouldn't live down if anything happened to you. ― she muttered while looking lovingly into your eyes.

‣ you nodded softly while guiding her to lay down with you on your bed, taking care to not injure your knee further. She wrapped her arms around you, laying your face on her chest. As you both settled in, you felt yourself falling asleep quickly. The fatigue creeping up as you snuggled yourself further into her.

‣ young-mi, you snitch.

★ . ★ . ★ . ★

[theolivetree123]

No YanSim Yuuki 💻

AU by @quartztwst !! Very cool idea! 💙

Yapping abt Yuuki's role below !!

Yuuki in this AU is a very introverted person who has very little friends and mostly observes others. Even though Yuuki doesn't have a crush on Azul, I think they'd still be an obstacle for Quartz since Yuuki is very cautious of others to the point of paranoia 24/7. So, if Quartz were to do something suspicious in Yuuki's eyes, Yuuki will pay close attention to Quartz, making it hard to find a good time to kill Azul. Along with this, Yuuki always has their phone on them and will take pictures of suspicious activity.

To counter these traits, Yuuki is very cowardly, meaning they won't immediately report any murder or suspicious activity right away, they'll somply run to an empty part of the school and hide there before going back to class, sticking around other students for safety, or just going home and won't report anything until the end of the next day. Along with this, Yuuki is very easily manipulated, so Quartz could also manipulate Yuuki into committing murder. (Similar to the Drive to Murder elimination method) This means that Quartz could also possibly manipulate Yuuki to not share what they saw.

Most elimination methods will work on Yuuki, except Match Making (since they're aroace), and Befriending (since Yuuki doesn't trust most students). If this AU has those elimination methods tho

That's basically it lol 😭 this was SOOO fun to do, I love the idea of Yan Sim, so this AU is SO GOOD YAAYYY hopefully I did everything right

Tagging moots since I'm pretty proud of this lol:

@jadelover69 @jovieinramshackle @screamintoad @sunnysidesevenup @oya-oya-okay @bunniehunn @blood-red-hummingbee @babyghoul138

[4zahara]

01 | A stranger is stargazing

Word count: 3.1k

A/N: I just got back from a trip and wanted to upload this before studying for my algebra finals next month. This was going to be way longer but then I saw the word count and chopped it off. I have zero imagination. Used chatgpt to translate some Spanish phrases because in English they use similar terms but different meanings. Also, my birthday falls on carnivals so it's going to be a very nice last week of vacations😁

The knock on the door pulled you from your daze, snapping your attention away from the stains on the ceiling.

Outside the only window in the apartment, barred as all must be, the sky hung a deep, polluted red, with clouds stretching far into the distance. Blue-ish if you squint your eyes. You, as one far too used to the sights, needed not to look at no clock's way to know this to be an unholy hour to bother someone. The thing was broken anyway and the lack of light filtering through was telltale enough.

It was clear, however, that someone disagreed with the concept of appropriate visiting hours. Despite your irritation, you silently hoped it wasn’t who you thought of first knocking at the door—because reliving another nightmare firsthand was the last thing you could handle after an already exhausting day. The familiar fear of being alone at night when an unexpected knock shattered the silence wasn’t something you’d grown up with instinctively, as others might. No, this was a fear learned the hard way, carved into you by mistakes you committed.

Alarm bells rang deafening while you stare frozen. You found it almost cruel when everything stayed as still as you at the faintest reminder of the last time you heard knocking. Like a punishment to yourself the shelves and mess had been kept neat, framing a stop in time on your doorstep. Back then, one of the other residents had barged in, leaving you shaken—hunted by the tickling feeling of his breath on your neck when you hadn’t turned around soon enough.

You forced yourself to push the thought away, though it lingered. A ghostly feeling clung to you, far longer than you were willing to admit to yourself, when another knock shattered your fragile composure. The sound was louder this time, sharper, snapping you back into the present. Startled, you leapt to your feet, knocking over the ashtray on the armrest with your rushed and unsteady movements. An horribly loud clatter echoed against the walls for seconds too long after falling to the floor, scattering ash and ceramic across the oppressive silence. The noise startled a hiss out of you, as though the sudden disruption physically hurt.

Out of the corner of your eye, an aluminum baseball bat tucked neatly among the umbrellas by the door. It waited in its place—only silent and steady reassurance for your burning hands.

Had the thought not been so disturbingly visceral, you would have entertained the idea of describing what you felt as a hand twisting your guts as you marched toward the door. But the imagery was too grotesque to entertain, so you buried it and kept moving.

Two locks clicked open unnaturally loud. The third lock, a flimsy chain, dangled just in front of your forehead. Not much of a safeguard, but it gave you the illusion of control even knowing the thin wood wouldn’t hold if it came to a struggle.

But what you braced for never came.

On the other side of the door, the menacing face you dreaded wasn’t there. No menacing glare from fish-like, ogling eyes.

Instead, a boy. Smaller than you.

Even more fragile-looking.

It was almost embarrassing how much taller you had expected the visitor to be. Instead, you found yourself slowly—almost comically—looking down at a face twisted in a grimace, like the boy had just sucked on a lemon.

If there was anything that could have thrown you off more in this moment, you couldn’t think of it. Then came like being hit by a train the realization of your own disheveled appearance: some pale, sickly, and worn thin girl. For looking less like a witch had others been burned. Still, you forced a smile—awkward and out of place in your face. Apparently, not beating those imaginary witch-allegations in your head, smiling wasn’t the right move in a dimly lit hallway in the dead of night.

Wonder why the boy’s expression shifted almost instantly from startled surprise to wide-eyed panic as your gazes met. Both pairs of blue eyes locked onto each other, mirrors to one another.

He was drenched, water dripping from a hoodie too big for him, which clung awkwardly to his small frame. The soaked fabric looked heavy for his noddle arms. A busted lip stood out starkly for being the kind of injury that screamed ‘street-kid’ in this side of the country. Easy—normal, even—to assume a fight was the cause. Maybe at home. Maybe over food with other kids.

Wait. It was raining outside?

“I... I’m your brother,” he stammered, words tumbling out in a rush. His face crumpled almost immediately, tears welling up as if he wanted to cry. You guessed from cringing so hard.

His words, anxious and unsteady, made it hard to process what he’d said, let alone empathize. This you blinked dumb-ly. Once. Twice. Then squinted, trying to focus your tired eyes on him. Because it couldn’t be.

Your brother was hardly a toddler.

It hadn’t been that long... just a couple of years. Maybe.

It wasn’t immediate—far from the clarity you might have preferred—but recognition did dawned the longer you looked. His mop of wet messy curls struggled under its own weight, stubbornly sticking out in awkward directions, much like yours often did after a shower. And those eyes.

Willis had definitely had a thing or two for light eyes in a woman.

This time the realization felt like a sharper pain; a slap. Older now—maybe nine or ten—your brother was standing in front of you, the spitting image of his father like you were of your mother. That thought anchored you, rooted you in place as the silence grew, filled only by static.

With it, the questions began to tumble through your mind like dominoes:

How the hell did he get here?

Obviously, he walked, right? But in the rain?

All the way here from Crime Alley, in the dark?

You stared at him for far too long. So much you could've started to feel uncomfortable too. It was socially inappropriate even. But so it was disturbing people at this hour, so you bet you kept staring. Thoughts clashed and raced, refusing to settle.

“Yeah, kid, I don’t know about that—” The words came out hesitant, weak. Perhaps speaking them might dissolve the truth in front of you. But the longer you denied it, the clearer it became.

Of course, this was your brother.

It just had to be, because why the hell not?

Your baby brother.

He had to be about ten now. You hoped he was still nine, but his birthday had long passed if you had it right.

How in the hell did he find me?

Is his lip okay? Clearly not—but how had it gotten busted?

Did he get into a fight?

Where are mom and dad?

The thought of him walking alone out there, so small and vulnerable, chilled you to the bone. The idea of walking the streets alone terrified you being his senior. Out there, death would almost feel merciful compared to what could happen.

At least the monster living down the hall was a known evil. The streets, though? They hid horrors far worse.

People often said you could sense being watched, when they weren’t alone in a

room and danger loomed nearby. Whatever that underdeveloped sixth sense was, it stirred in you, pulling your gaze away from Maybe-Jason—who, judging by his oblivious expression, has proudly evolved past any shred of survival instinct—and toward the hallway.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

The very last, or first, of the apartment doors down the hall stood slightly ajar, its shadowed outline warped in the dim, flickering light. Large portions of the space cloaked in suffocating darkness by burned-out bulbs, but even through the haze of your blurry vision and growing dread, you could see him.

There he was. Standing just within the frame of the door, his silhouette barely illuminated. He didn’t need much light to convey what he was—a predator, coiled and waiting. The sight almost froze you in place with chills one after the other. It was like watching carnage step into the light dressed in colours to deceive.

You yanked on the door handle without thought, The lock chain vibrating sharply. The frame rattled under your grip as your restless hands itched to do something—anything. Every instinct screamed at you to grab Jason, drag him inside, and slam the door. Brother or not, scammer or not, it didn’t matter. All you wanted was to get him out of sight. Out of that sight.

From the neighbors.

From the world.

From the danger now standing on your threshold.

Of course, although you had never meant to shut the door in his face, it wasn’t hard to see why Jason probably thought you were doing just that. Looking up from frantically searching his pockets for whatever reason, only to look up and see you disappear behind the chipped wood and flaking varnish must've been disheartening. Desperation etched on his young face perfectly mirrored the ache pounding in your chest—a feeling only a boy his age could wear so openly, and one only you could understand. You knew what could happen to him, to both of you, and the weight of that knowledge crushed you. His desperation laid elsewhere, as he was yet to become aware of the danger. But the feeling was mutual. Fear smells salty.

His small fist struck the door again and again. He called for nobody, babbling something about proving his claim instead. Maybe he’d forgotten your name in the haze of his nerves, or time had scrambled the syllables and their order.

It has been a while.

His pounding made you flinch, and in your fumbling to undo the chain, your ragged nails scraped against the surface. The accidental movement sent a sharp pain stabbing under your nails, but no time for whatever that was. Not as the metallic screech of rusted hinges sliced through the air.

The sound sent your heart into overdrive.

Before let-this-be-Jason could strike the door again you grabbed his arm and yanked him inside, shoving him behind you. Behind safety. That's where your brother belonged.

Then, before your dizzy, unfocused self could register how close it had been, you slammed the door shut.

══════════════ • ✧ • ══════════════

Even before stepping out of the house, Jason knew to be digging himself into a hole. He accepted the fact for what it was; his desperation guiding him down a path of poor decisions. He just hadn’t realized a shovel was in his hands until the hole’s depth exceeded his height.

Grabbed, tossed, pulled. Weren't the walls of his vertical tomb collapsing in slow, suffocating ruin, lovely? Beautiful, even.

He would have liked to think the inside of what he hoped was his sister’s apartment might be better than the place he’d come from.

It wasn’t.

It smelled of cigarette smoke, and shadows pooled in every corner. The darkness clinging to the space, thick and uninviting, might have made Jason feel at home—dragged around and overwhelmed—if the situation hadn’t spiraled out of his control so quickly.

Sure, they were family, and blood was supposed to be thicker than water, but none of that mattered if she didn’t even know he was her brother. The memories he’d clung to, distant and blurry, painted his sister as gentle and caring.

You? didn’t match that picture.

In retrospect, he realized you weren't much taller than him, and so thin he couldn’t understand why he felt so threatened. If you did try something, he figured, he could probably win in a fight—especially if the bat he somehow now held in his hands came into play.

He couldn’t remember grabbing it. Or when it had reached his hands.

It was on the floor and he had tripped with it.

You had your back to him now, tense and uncertain, seeming just as out of it as he was. For all his distrust, Jason couldn’t tell who, between the two of them, was more afraid of what might happen next.

You were frantic, scrambling to lock all four bolts, including the padlock. Each metallic click seemed to drive Jason’s heart deeper into the pit of his stomach, where it churned in acid. But he was too far gone—trapped in fight-or-flight mode—to cry about it.

Your hand hovered near the floor, near the umbrellas scattered there. Groping blindly for a handle, probably searching for the bat’s. Or maybe, fingers crossed, an umbrella to pity him.

Call it hopeful thinking.

Jason heard you curse under your breath, blaming yourself for throwing “it” too hard behind you. Still, you didn’t dare take your eyes off the door, as if you believed your unrelenting stare could alone hold it in place, as if sheer willpower wasn't already the only thing keeping that piece of wood standing. From this side, the door looked even shoddier, barely more than splintered wood and peeling paint. Jason stared at it, and you, his mind buzzing. For a fleeting second, he thought he could probably bring it down if he wanted to, so clearly the adrenaline was getting to his head.

“I think… I think it’s safe,” you muttered. Your voice shook, but the words didn’t sound like they were meant to reassure anyone but you.

Your trembling hands dropped to your sides, and you stepped away from the door.

“Safe?” Jason barked, his voice sharp, teetering on the edge of hysteria.

That’s when he learned the first thing about his so-called sister. Other than the assumptions he’d already built in his head, you were jumpy. You flinched, almost as if you hadn’t expected him to speak or still be there. To what he had to ask; Where else would he go?

His hands tightened around the bat, frustration bubbling in his chest.

Right. He had a weapon. Maybe that explained your jumpiness when facing him.

“Wow.” Your hands shot up in surrender, in a reflexive, almost lazy gesture of defeat. You didn't want to appear threatening, but your wide eyes just ticked Jason off. “So that’s where the bat went.”

“Why did you drag me in like that?” Jason barely hides the accusation. An unspoken ‘Why can’t you be normal?’ wail hung in his mind. He decided against saying it outright—better to avoid sounding desperate or offended, even if both ships had sailed.

“Because the Boogeyman was about to get you? Obviously?” you shot back, your tone spoke to a child far younger than him. Your grimace wasn’t for him though.

“What?” Confused.

“What?” You mimicked. Jason felt whatever hope he had for your help steadily slipping away.

“What— are you doing?!”

“How about you put the bat down, buddy—back with the umbrellas? I’m not going to attack you,” Jason cut you off, his frustration boiling over. “You pushed me into your apartment! If anything, you’re kidnapping me—”

“There was a man outside!” you cut him off yourself with a sharp exclamation and throwing your hands in the air, sounding genuinely offended at being called out. Good. Jason couldn't be the only one losing it here. “And stop shouting,” you hissed, lowering your voice but glaring at him. “Other people live here.”

Jason glanced around. “This place is disgusting.” Home wasn't better, but he was pissed.

“Thanks,” There was a sharp edge, more venom in your tone than you’d intended. It startled Jason enough to make him take a step back.

Seeing your little brother back away from you should've tug on your heartstrings. It did. Almost tearing them off at the memory of a toddler gleefully making a mess of his food, yet looking so utterly blameless.

You couldn't be angry at Jason—if this was truly Jason. You had to remember who you were getting angry at and would/could cry.

Still, you should’ve been ashamed of the mess. You looked like you knew you should.

The apartment was tiny, cramped, and barely livable. The peeling wallpaper was stained yellow. Dirty dishes piled in the sink, a leaning tower of neglect, and discarded takeout containers dotted the counters like forgotten relics. The lone couch sagged under its own weight, covered in a mismatched patchwork of old blankets, and the floor—God, the floor...

Jason, once a master of breaking down your stubborn resolve with those big, pleading eyes, probably for the best, didn't seem to remember his power over you even having already made you back down. You sighed and leaned against the door. Slowly, you slid down until you hit the floor. The movement felt pitiful, like a defeated video game boss collapsing after the final blow. Only there was no triumphant music playing in the background and it looked sadder.

You stared at the floor, head tilted slightly forward, shoulders slumped. “It’s been a while,” you muttered, your voice strained, “since I talked to actual people, okay? Sorry for… the mess. I guess.”

And Jason reluctantly lowered his guard.

The bat still clenched tightly in his hands, eventually lowered, no longer pointing at you. Even so, he kept it close as he sat down on the floor, mirroring your posture.

“S’okay,” he mumbled.

“You look battered,” you said before a ten year old could take pity on you.

“You look high.”

To what his sister gasped, hand flying to your chest in mock offense. “I don’t—do I?—” And stopped abruptly. A pause, a sigh, and then you scratched the back of your neck, avoiding his gaze. “Okay, fair enough. ‘m not like that, but they cut the water off Monday morning so...”

“...It’s wednesday,”Jason saw you wince.

“What are you doing here anyway? How did you find me? Or even get here in the first place?”

“I walked…” Jason admitted, trailing off. He’d wanted the silence to stretch a little longer, but…

“(Name)?”

“Hey,” you cut in, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Glad to know you remember my name.”

“I came because of mom… Was there really someone in the hallway?”

“Yeah... Some creep. I'm 80% sure he’s a pimp too.”

“A pin? What's that?”

“What's what?” Suddenly remembering the limits and implications of talking to a ten year old. Even if the streets were more home than Catherine and Willis, Jason was still a child. You too, but you have literally lived in the streets for some time.

Wonderful times.

“Doesn’t matter. Just be more careful, Jason.”

He hesitated, the weight of his next words sinking his shoulders. “Mom 's bad.”

Your face fell. “You shouldn’t have left her alone with Dad if she was already—”

“Willis is gone.”

“Gone?”

“Jail.”

“…Huh.” You slumped back against the door, your hand rubbing at your temple. “Well… you shouldn’t go back out at this hour,” you muttered, your tone softening. “Especially not in the rain.” You pushed yourself to your feet with a groan. “I’ll grab you a towel… Food?”

His stomach grumbled, betraying him entirely.

“Yeah. Food too then.”

[mirensiart]

Hi!! I just saw your Linkleverse designs and I absolutely adore them <3

Out of sheer curiosity i was wondering what the result of Linka and Rava's soulbond would be if that's a thing in this au. Like how Link and Ravio have pain sharing, what would the girls get?

Thanks!

My linkle designs can be found HERE!

Anyway ooough anon I'm so sorry for replying a thousand years late 😭💔

But I think it would be funny if linka + rava soulbound where something similar to the pain sharing soulbond link + ravio have lol

Like I was thinking about feelings sharing, like the emotional kind, not the physical one

They would feel each other's feelings like happiness, sadness, anxiety, despair, emotional pain, anger, fear, etc 🤔

Since they both dislike ravio since he keeps stealing their customers I can see something like

link + linka: chatting in hyrule

linka, suddenly feeling an EXTREME wave of annoyance and anger: oh dude I think rava stumbled onto ravio just now

link, feeling the pain of something smacking him on the head: yeah I can feel it too

meanwhile on lorule

rava + ravio:

[merbear25]

Since u didn’t include Love and Mashiro in the last Vizards post came we get how they would react to a fem s/o wearing a really short skirt?

NSFW pls my vizard thirst is too real

I decided to add Shinji and Rose to this because I had ideas for them 💀 Hope you like it! 💜💜

You knew exactly what you were doing when you bought it. A skirt that was a glorified set of underwear was bound to turn their heads. When you were alluring all on your own, how could it not? You were just wrapping their favorite treat in a tempting package.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, fem!reader, established relationship, perversion, groping, cumshot, teasing, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, vaginal penetration, creampie

Wearing a revealing skirt around them (Love, Mashiro, Shinji, Rose)

Love: Re reading the manga he borrowed from Lisa, he kept a certain page open for a little too long. He stared at the panty shot drawn on the pages. The outfit the girl was wearing was something no typical business woman would be caught dead in, but the fantasy of seeing a stern, seemingly cold-hearted woman get flustered and blush a deep red was more appealing than it ought to have been. 

The more he studied this woman’s curves, the more he saw a resemblance between her figure and yours. That outfit would look better on you was a thought on rerun up until you came up to him. He glanced up at you for a moment before going back to his manga. Only a second had passed before his head snapped back up. There you were in all of your beauty wearing an outfit very similar to what he was just fantasizing you in.

He choked a little on his words, so you helped him out. “I saw you were spending a lot of time staring at that drawing, so I went out and bought something similar.” You perked up and showed it off for him. “What do you think? Do you like it?”

The eager nod and soft “yeah” made you giggle. He was so cute when he got flustered, and your playfulness was only making it more difficult for him.

“Why don’t you take a break from looking at that drawing.” You carefully took the manga from him and put it on the side of the couch. You motioned to sit on his lap, but he stopped you.

“Wait, I just want to touch you right now.” His hands found their way to your waist first, wanting to be spoiled with the choice of wandering up to your chest or your hips. He kneaded at the softest parts of your body, adoring the way you felt and needing to make you feel like the most desired woman on the planet.

When he pulled you closer, he kissed your chest and gripped your ass with an increasing lust. Running his fingers under your panty line, he wasted no time in feeling everything you were keeping hidden. With his fingers sinking into your wettening cunt, you moaned sweetly. Gripping his shoulders, you panted softly as he pumped them into you.

Suddenly, he pulled away. Sitting further back on the couch, he angled his head on top of the headrest. Gently ushering you over, you couldn’t stop the thrill budding inside you.

“Sit on my face.” His breathless request wasn’t something you were going to deny him of.

You rested one of your knees next to his head and eased yourself down. As he breathed in the scent of your arousal, he groaned as his tongue tasted it through the fabric. His hands kept caressing your hips, wandering to your thighs and chest but finding their way back to your backside without fail. 

He tugged at your cotton thong to wedge the soaked cloth between your now swollen pussy lips. Lathering your needy center with his hot tongue and tugging on the strained fabric was leaving you a whimpering mess. The combined friction of the thong and his nose were leaving you restless. Feeling you squirming on his face was becoming too much to bear, but he was desperate to drink up every last drop of bliss you were giving him.

As you rocked back and forth in search of release, he freed himself from his jeans. His moans vibrated against your sensitive skin, while he began fulfilling his own sexual needs. The fast motions of him stroking himself were making the bit of fat on your hips shake slightly. Your silent plea for him to make you cum gave him every reason to give you everything he had. 

Hearing you cry out for him sent him tumbling over the edge after you, leaving hot streams of cum all over himself. His muffled gasps and moans of ecstasy made you rut more roughly against his face to chase the high. 

Easing yourself off of him, the state of both of you sparked even more outfits inspired by his manga.

Mashiro: You waltzed past her without so much as a second thought regarding your attire, so you caught her attention effortlessly. You didn’t need to look back to know she was leaning over to get a better view.

The sway of your hips was done intentionally in hopes of drawing out more of a reaction. However, her eyes were too fixated on your scantily covered bottom to give you what you were specifically after.

“That’s a nice skirt!” Her voice was chipper as usual. “Is it new?” 

You nodded and showed it off a little more for her, doing a seductive twirl that made the fabric fly up even more. The sight of your lacy panties made her lean over so far that she nearly fell out of her chair.

Looking at you all wide-eyed with intense interest to explore, the desire stirring within her came out in an otherwise curious way. Lifting your skirt, she gave herself permission to satisfy her urges. “These are very pretty too.” She hummed as her fingers trailed up and down the wet patch forming between your thighs. “Hmmm…”

“What’s the matter?” The question shook with your uneven breaths.

“They’re in the way though…” Her statement trailed off as she took the liberty of sliding them down your hips. Tossing them to the side, she tugged you gently forward so that you were positioned right above her.

Her tongue darted out against your clit, sending a wave of euphoria over you. The slender fingers you so often imagined in place of your own on lonely nights slid up your hips and squeezed firmly. They held you in place, while the lapping of her tongue left your legs weak. Soft cheerful hums of satisfaction and blissful enjoyment vibrated gently against your sensitive skin. Every moan passing those soft lips of yours were eagerly pushed further, when her tongue trailed along the other, more delicate, pair.

The trembling and panting you were so eagerly giving her had her smiling throughout your orgasm. Her big brown eyes batted up at you with an unmatched adoration. After letting you ride her face through your climax, she gently sucked at your overstimulated clit before pulling away. A thin string of your arousal tethered you to her before she wiped it off with her finger and ran her tongue over it.

“You should wear skirts like this more often.” Her tone was far too pure given what she’d just been doing.

You nodded before dropping to your knees. Your tongues tangled, allowing you to taste your tangy sweet cum still glistening on her pretty face. Her hands clung and clawed at your hips as yours kneaded her chest. Plucking her nipples got her moaning softly against your lips. The heat on your cheeks matched the one between your legs, begging you to go further. 

Listening to your body's desperate pleas for satisfaction, you slipped your hand under her pants to find her own arousal pooling in them. You couldn’t break the lip lock even if you wanted to; each moan and praise she gave you was swallowed greedily as you plunged your fingers into her needy cunt. 

Her trembling hand found its way back between your thighs, feverishly playing with your clit again to lure out more of your sweet sobs. Your shared pants and moans of passion were reaching a fever pitch. As you rutted against each other’s hands, neither one of you stopped until the other was left completely and utterly satisfied.

“L-like I said,” she gasped. “You should wear this more often.” 

You chuckled before planting another more tender kiss on her reddened mouth.

Shinji: A long work day had yet to end, keeping the both of you separated for longer than he would’ve liked. Rubbing his eyes from exhaustion, the familiar sound of your footsteps traveled up the corridor. Cocking an eyebrow at the sight of you, a huff of amusement and a sly smite quickly followed suit. 

What a little tease you were flaunting your body right in front of him, while he was trying to be a diligent and honest captain. 

“Couldn't keep yer’self away I see.” The wink that chased after you could be felt even with your back turned.

“I thought I'd be able to work better with company is all.”

A chuckle came from him. “‘nd what kind a work were ya planning to do wearing somethin’ like that?” He flicked his pen at your attire.

You shrugged, playing coy. “What? This is new and I felt like wearing it.”

He knew you'd never cross his path in something that suggestive without some ulterior motive, but he'd let you have your little moment. He'd be having you begging for him no matter who started this game.

A sigh of relief escaped him as he leaned back in his chair. “That's good to hear. I'm up to my ears in paperwork.”

You could beat him at his own game. Of course, you could! However, as time seemed to drag on that itch you needed to be scratched was getting more unbearable. Lightly biting on the end of your pen wasn’t getting his attention, not even when swirling your tongue around it earned you glance.

“Shinji!” You groaned. “You aren’t even the slightest bit interested?” 

Smiling to himself, he threw you a bone. “Oh, ‘re ya caving already?”

You sat up straight, your flustered expression not even attempting to hide. “I-I’m not caving! I just… I just—” You slumped over the desk in a huff, feeling so sexually frustrated.

He leaned forward with immense self-satisfaction at how easily you got wound up for him. “Ya know all ya have to do is ask.” When you looked at him, that cocky smile you both loathed and adored was beaming back at you.

Grumbling quietly, you swallowed your pride. “Please, captain…” Your eyes hung low from feigned embarrassment, playing the role he wanted you to so damn well. “It’s been too long.” You gripped your already skimpy skirt to flash the wet spot pooling in your panties.

It had been a while since you two were able to be intimate the way you craved, making his usual control slip through his fingers that much faster. When he leaned back in his chair, you took that as an invitation. Sitting in front of him on the desk, you spread your legs at his nod to proceed. The sigh of his own pent-up lust left him without any control of his own.

Seeing you spread for him in that sad excuse for a skirt and your wet patch spreading more over your pussy lips were wearing him down. He nearly allowed himself to give in right there and then, but the look on your face was too darling not to indulge himself.

His fingers caressed you through the soaked cloth, earning himself those heavenly moans he missed so much. You clawed at the desk as his fingertips swirled around that sensitive bundle of nerves. Holding back your moans was in vain because of how much you needed this, needed him. The faint sound of wet fabric squelching was too good for him not to react to. His moans were soft and urged him to find friction for his own release.

Pushing the fabric to the side, he pumped his slender fingers in as he nipped at your inner thigh. The whimpers and begs coming out of you were just what he needed. Planting his face where you needed him most, his tongue worked to make up for lost time together. His other hand gripped his cock and stroked it in rhythm with your hip movements. He moaned into you as you searched for more of him, his hips acting on their own as he craved that sweet release he’d been deprived of.

His tongue piercing hit your clit at the peak of euphoria, causing you to throw yourself back on the wooden desk. He dragged his tongue over you, savoring the lingering jolts of pleasure shaking your body.

“Hope ya don’t think I’m done.” You were already splayed out so perfectly for him, he couldn’t resist taking you like that. He pushed into you without so much as a warning, causing you to yelp. His soft hushes soothed you as his pace started out slow and steady.

It’d been so long since he had you like this, you’d gotten so tight he didn’t know how much longer he could last. Those darling sounds coming from you and the way you looked under him weren’t helping either. He tightly gripped your waist as he pounded into you erratically, his breaths coming out in short gasps.

“Fuck!’ He grunted loudly, while he filled your sweet center to the brim with white hot cream. Coming down from your shared high, he lazily played with your skirt. “Yer gonna have to wear this more often, ya know that right?”

Rose: Fine tuning your favorite instrument with him in the room shouldn’t have been that much of a distraction, but when your soft thighs were on show, there was no hope focusing on anything other than you.

He absentmindedly strummed his guitar, letting the melody climb into a romantic ballad the longer he gazed upon you. Your delicate fingers paying extra care to your second voice with each tuning had him wondering if you knew how beautiful you truly were.

“That’s a lovely song. What inspired it?” Your voice complimented the key perfectly.

“Who else other than my other half?” His eyes fluttered to your concentrated expression. The flattered smile peeking through was all the incentive he needed to continue. “And what was the vision behind your little outfit today?”

“Who other than you?” You smirked at him, crossing your legs so the skirt rode up further. The seam of maroon silk peeked out from underneath. He couldn’t help but feel like a starving man with a piece of the most mouth-watering meat dangling in front of him, just out of reach.

Placing his guitar down, he went over to you. “I think you’ve tuned it enough for today.” Before you could protest against him taking your instrument away, he planted a firm kiss with enough fervor to take your breath away.

His hands slid under your skirt and roughly grabbed your ass. As your lip lock deepened, his fingers played at the sides of those devilishly tempting panties. Gripping them tightly, the force squeezed against your already slick lips. The soft whimper coming from you as a result was like music to his ears, a song that he yearned to further orchestrate.

Slowly, he shimmied them off of you, savoring the way they hugged against your curves. You looked heavenly like this: hot and bothered, ready for him to make you sing your siren’s song. Clenching your lingerie in his fist, he spread your thighs so that the short fabric of your skirt barely covered your soft skin. Your ass hanging out, your pussy dripping with need, your pants growing desperate: a delectable sight that he felt lucky to bear witness to.

Dipping into you, he hung onto each gasp and moan you were willing to give him. Your walls clenched around him from the blissful sensations coursing through your molten core. A shaky, satisfied smile peered down at you, while you gave him a taste of the symphony he’d been thinking about all morning. As he began thrusting, your moans grew louder and needier, fueling his darkening lust for you.

Your damp panties were being squeezed between his hand and the back of your thigh. The sweetened musk mixing with the slight sweat building between you two was clouding his thoughts even more with you and you alone. You were an image worthy of the status of goddess, meant to be worshiped like the gift you were and he was going to do just that.

His movements pushed deeper but kept a steady pace to hit that sweet spot just right. The way you practically sang for him had his head spinning. As your body trembled in signal of your approaching climax, he acted on impulse—bringing your panties to his face to fully engulf himself in every part of you. The lewd sight of him huffing your dirty underwear helped push you over that sought after edge. The sheer intensity of your body cumming along with your sweet scent flooding his senses lured out his own release. 

Such depravity that wasn’t above either of your standards, the mingling scent of sex made you want to pick up more skirts in this one’s likeness.

[daughtersofzaun]

I want to make a long post about the hyperspecificities of arcane that have been eating me alive for the past couple months, for a couple reasons. For one, they are all I have been thinking about since I watched the show. It felt almost disoreinting how represented I felt while watching season one, and that was a new feeling for me. The second reason is because I see other people saying the same thing, and for the first time in a really long time, I dont feel alone in my relationship with my sister.

I heavily relate to Jinx. Part of that is the fact that she is a really good representation of CPTSD and BPD, and that isn’t something that is very common to see in my opinion, but more importantly, its her relationship with Vi. My parents are very good people and I never doubt that they did their best, but they never really cared much about me, and I was neglected. Most of the time it was just emotionally, so you know not really the end of the world, but it did mean that my sister was my only person. I have written a couple paragraphs on here about Jinx where I really have just been projecting, but let me write out the specifics of my situation and then you can try and spot the difference:

I had just turned 13 (powder act 1 is estimated to be 11/12?). I was already fairly mentally ill and it was probably going to get worse but it wasnt the worst thing in the world. I had my family that I’m sure loved me but I didn’t see or believe that at the time. I was really not doing that well, but I did have my sister. My sister was smart, and funny, and so insanley creative and talented and I absolutley worshipped that girl. Everything she did, I wanted to do it too and be just as good as her (I never was). And then my sister (who was 15 at the time) killed herself. And while this is obviously not the same situation as Jinx and Vi, I can’t help but obssess over the similarities. When my sister left me I felt so betrayed. I was angry that I was now alone, and even more than that I was angry that I had failed as a sister. After spending my entire life just trying to be like her and be like someone that she could like as much as i liked her, I was cut off. I no longer got to try anymore. It was essentially the world telling me game over. And I felt like I was the one that died. The disconnect from myself, my childhood, and even my name, were all things that I have spent years thinking about. And not only did I disconnect, but I went a little crazy. I ruined relationships, I destroyed any semblance of my old identity, and I yelled. A lot. I only started season one of Arcane back in November, coincidentally less than two weeks after the seven year aniversary of my sisters death, and holy shit. I saw me and her in jinx and vi before even finishing act one, and then I saw us even more in the following acts. Season two was maybe even worse. Some of the reasons for this I just physically cannot write out (maybe for lack of the right words, or maybe I just don’t want to), but one thing in episode eight was just discustingly specific. CW nightmares and suicide for the following btw:

For a couple years after my sisters suicide, I got these horrible reccuring nightmares. And they weren’t all the same, but the generaly plot line was that my sister was about to kill herself and there was nothing I could do about it. One of the specific ones- and you might see where this is going- was this nightmare where I was in some type of cell (occasionally a traditional one, other times something a litte wierder and more dream-like) and my sister was going to leave to go kill herself, and she woud tell me this. And there was nothing I could do. Anyways, there was something crazy gutwrenching about seeing the nightmare that made you afraid to go to sleep for years animated in a tv show with charcters you’ve already projected your entire life on.

Also, sibling grief is not a commonly relatable type of issue. Especially not sibling grief that was violent and traumatic. And after feeling so alone for so many years, seeing myself represented and seeing other people relate to these characters has been really intense.

I’m probably not ever going to be done rambling about them, but for now I think I am.

[plotholes-and-spellingerrors]

I think the thing is that, fundamentally, there's no such thing as running an "AI" locally. (I'm assuming that when you say "AI" you're referring to the "generative" models where a user makes a natural-language request, e.g. "re-organize my business", and the model outputs an org chart or something.) The problem is that these models require so much compute that you basically cannot run them on a personal computer. If you saw that post going around talking about Windows quietly turning on constant system snapshots to run it's AI assistant, the article pointed out that some features were only available on machines with specially beefed-up processors and memory, and even then, internet connectivity was vital because it was sending data back to Microsoft to be processed - that was part of the privacy/security risk, that images potentially displaying passwords, etc., were being stored on Microsoft servers. The point being, you need massive server farms to ingest, store, and analyze the data that these models are being built on - and it never ends, or the model becomes stale. And even once you have the model, calculating a response is also incredibly resource intensive. That's why every single Google AI result takes so much more water and electricity than the entirety of the actual search results combined.

I have shared the link before, but I am begging people to listen to the "Data Vampires" miniseries from Tech Won't Save Us. They make clear very early on that the reason Microsoft, Google, and Amazon are pushing AI so much is because they are data center companies: they make money every time a service uses their data centers. And you know where ChatGPT and MidJourney results are being processed? On Microsoft and Google and Amazon's data centers. In fact, a lot of the "money" that these companies are investing into GenAI orgs is actually just donating server usage to them, to get them locked in on those servers, which will then need to be paid for. So the GenAI companies have to find a way to get people to pay for AI services, because they're paying for AI compute power.

The other thing, and I cannot stress this enough, is that these are not knowledge models. They are very sophisticated duplication models. If you say to the "AI", "Make my workflow simpler", it doesn't have a semantic understanding of what "simpler" means (and it certainly can't ask for clarification). All it can do is look at its massive data set and try to predict a version of whatever it is outputting that is associated with the string of letters "simpler", based on a bunch of stuff that has previously been labeled as "simple" (or similar words). So you might get a work flow that has fewer steps, for example, but what the "AI" might not realize (because it doesn't have a concept of what any of the steps are) is that maybe it's actually added that are meaningless, maybe it's just shuffled some steps to it looks like there's fewer but actually it's just hidden a couple... or maybe it's eliminated some vital error-checking steps that 98% of the time result in nothing (it looks like a waste of time, so simplify it out) but 1.7% of the time catches something minor (oh good, that would have wasted resources to fix) and 0.3% of the time catches something mission-critical (this error could have brought us to bankruptcy/court/prison). And keep in mind, the person asking an automated system to simplify their business workflow is NOT the person who designed the workflow and knows what needs to be in there (if they were, they wouldn't need a computer to tell them how to fix it) - they're the person trying to not need to pay someone to design the workflow.

And for that matter, a lot of what happens when some "AI" system is inserted into a process is that it's still doing the same task (just at a much higher computational requirement, and potentially wrong), but it looks simpler because the human user is only clicking one button rather than five.

And look, I'm all for automating tasks that are repetitive and time-consuming for a human - that's the whole point of computers in the first place. But a truly effective and efficient replacement for human work is one that was designed by people who are intimately familiar with the required tasks and thinking deeply about how to make their jobs easier.

You know, these techbros love to make it sound like humans are just bad at making systems, computers will be so much better at it, but I think that's a lie they tell because they want to make one generic product and get everyone to buy it. That's the promise of "general artificial intelligence" - it's one system that can do everything. But what else in life works like that? Do you put your clothes and your dishes in the same washing device? Something that does a lot of things well is typically very simple. You can fry an egg and boil water in the same pan because it's a bent piece of metal sitting over heat. An espresso machine, however, will have a harder time with the egg. Good software generally focuses on doing one thing - the difference is whether that one thing is simple and can be applied to a lot of different things (Firefox renders web content, it just happens that you can have all kinds of stuff on the web) or if that one thing is extremely specific (Audacity edits music and GIMP edits images - audio and images are both data types that Firefox can show you, but can you imagine what a mess GIMPdacity would be?); the problem is that this specialization requires human effort, and these techbros do not want to PAY for human effort; the problem is that this specialization means that you have target audiences, and these techbros want to sell to a general (read: bigger) audience. And conversely, those byzantine systems that are so terrible? Often it's not because people are just dumb, it's because either the job is a very complicated one, and the system is tailored to success in that task, or because someone wanted a general system that accomplishes all kinds of things, and often what they want accomplished is METRICS so that the efficiency of the business can be micromanaged. But that's another story for another time. In short, don't ever let someone who is trying to sell you bullshit tell you the lie that you couldn't do better on your own.

Anyway, IDK if this is really even what OP meant, it's just where my mind went. If you put up with me to the end, thanks for reading.

MAN, can you imagine the clusterfuck of working at a company that’s become reliant on an AI layer between itself/its employees, and knowing how to do their jobs and use their systems and stuff? Like when that AI layer goes down, poof, you’re all hosed. And they don’t strike me as super robust…

I guess there are ways of training and running them locally, but they’re so seductive they’re definitely going to be deployed in places that aren’t up to the task of maintaining them in a sane state. Like… damn… cutting headcount in favor of relying on AI is like. A raccoon stuffing its head into a yogurt container. This is gonna be killing off organizations in a few years.

Unless AI gets good at destroying preexisting fucked up byzantine workflows and replacing them with simpler, human-friendly ones. That would be okay. But it is gonna irrevocably destroy a lot of records and botch a lot of database migrations on its way there.

[imperatrice21]

I headcanon that the demigods that moved to New Rome for college still come back to Camp Half-Blood act as head counselors in the summer. They also usually visit during breaks especially the ones who have family in New York like Percy so they can see them as well.

[chirpsythismorning]

S5 opener REAL

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

the x files au where everything is exactly the same except mulder takes home the child neanderthal from the jersey devil episode and raises them as his own

[st4rstudent]

i feel somewhat responsible for this, even if i’m not the one saying these things. I’m genuinely so sorry.

No need to apologize! It's not one singular person doing it and truth be told I don't think it's a large majority that thinks that (albeit the ones that do are quite vocal). I didn't mean to upset anyone or anything when complaining about it, I was just letting off some steam.

Having a yap session under the cut sorry I feel like rambling under your ask anon.

Admittedly, I do think there are reasonings for people thinking this way. A lot of the focus with Clash has been on the cogs, especially after the 1.3 update. Which I can't say I blame them! Managers were something new and exciting and (from what I can tell) really separated them from the other servers. I don't blame them for wanting to put focus on that because that was their thing. Alongside other things, but majorly when you hear Clash the managers are mentioned in someway shape or form. But as we all know, toons ended up taking the short stick from this. This isn't helped by the gameplay itself, being mainly a fetch-quest deal so you often only talk to npcs once or twice unless if they're repeated ones and the taskline wasn't entirely accessible on the wiki for a while (shoutout to the wiki maintainers. The taskline script is a savior). Which I'm quite excited to see if they deal with this issue with the rewrite. I imagine they will, but anyways. Social media posts would often contain more managers than toons, which I also believe they're starting to fix. And ontop of this, I believe most of the team in the early era of the sever is gone, so there's been some stuff lost in the change. So yeah, dialogue/writing has been kind of rocky. AGAIN- I am completely aware of the rewrite going on and I am not judging them harshly based off of their current state. I'm very appreciative of the fact that they took the time to listen and are focusing on trying to fix it up. And then there's also fandom mischaracterization- especially of the cogs. Forgive me for mentioning mischaracterization because normally I wouldn't really care (I've mischaracterized characters before..especially in my younger years. I think it's just a process of learning an having fun and I hate to limit anyone because of it). With that being said, there's a lot of baby-fying and coddling of the managers. Especially with those who have more 'sympathetic' stories (Misty, Chip, Winston specifically). Don't get me wrong, I like these characters and I can appreciate the story they're trying to tell, but I feel like so many people will hear their dialogue and then misplace their anger. People get mad at Bessie for trying to protect HER lighthouse or at the Elders for trying to keep YOTT safe (lets not forget Winston was there to brainwash toons). Yes, yes technically there would've been better ways to do it but consider this: The toons are scared. Their homes, stores, lives are being taken over by a big corporation that has more resources that they do. They don't have the privilege of waiting, seeing, and gathering. And then people forget that the company has such a huge role in both toons and cogs lives. If you're mad over the mistreatment of Misty or the fact that Winston is still in the dungeon, your anger should be directed at the company who doesn't care. I may be completely wrong in saying this, but I feel like the stories with almost all of the managers is a reflection of the company. The toons are only trying to protect themself and their environments and yet this seems to go forgotten when people start bashing them. And of course, I'd consider myself a toon guy so me saying all this and complaining may come off as "I HATE the cogs and everyone who posts only about them!" and for clarification that's not true. You all know how much I like that little brain thing. The cogs are interesting, their designs are fun, I don't blame people for liking them because I do too. I just wish that the thought process behind so many of these discussions wasn't so cog focused because I believe that this anger at the toons for, RIGHTFULLY, defending themselves helps push this mischaracterization of them as a whole. That they're mean, boring, unlikeable while the opposite is true. Yes there are some, what I'd consider, "filler" dialogue from the shopkeepers. This is just because of the gameplay. But there are some funny and cute moments with them if people would just listen and read.

Which also brings me into another point: people skip the dialogue. I've caught myself doing this before (on my first account. I have 4 accounts total, so I reread the dialogue on like 3 of them). But people will complain about lack of toon personalities while doing this. It's like reading through a comic book, only looking at the drawings, and then complaining because there "isn't a storyline". Luckily, there's been efforts to keep track of the dialogue on the wiki but I doubt a lot of people are going through and reading the entire script. It just feels very disingenuous to criticize the dialogue when you haven't even read it. Likewise, people don't seem to read the blogposts either. This is both from a dialogue aspect and from an update aspect (people continuously asking about hammerspace/mix-and-match under unrelated posts).

[jestiamy]

I like mentally equating haircutting in humans are space orcs aus to those hoof maintenance/horn trimming videos that get like. at least ten comments each time going "???? so are we going to ignore the literal animal torture happening here??"

[smeraldo-heart]

More Jedi Textposts

Except I go straight for angst this time and don’t even pretend to have some levity

Part two on its way….

[sysig]

What you’d least like to hear (Patreon)

[skoulsons]

I guess I do have ptsd from a past car crash

[shireduchess]

resigning myself to the possibility that won’t hear from the boy again and as much as that’s okay, I’ll be fine, life just moves the way it does, I am sad about it, and I have to know it’s okay to let myself be really sad about it