#i wish i'd known about these people when i was a kid

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippet Thursday part 2: Blackmail Au

First

Prev

In which Jak has to learn how to properly take care of curly hair

It turned out that the king of the Wastelanders was a little less intimidating when he was arguing with Sig. For all that he retained his commanding presence, with or without his armor, the low stakes of the disagreement seemed to soften him into something more human.

"I'm just going right back to the city again tomorrow!" Sig complained, "I'll do Wash Day when I get back."

"The rot you will," Damas retorted, pointing a comb menacingly at him, "We both know you'd rather shave your head than bother with Wash Day. Just get it over with and you won't have to deal with it for another two weeks."

"Come on, man!"

"You're setting a bad example for Jak," Damas said smugly.

Sig's nostrils flared. "Ohhh you rotsucker. That's not fair."

"I don't have to play fair on Wash Day."

Jak and Daxter watched the back and forth with growing amusement, especially when the indomitable Sig capitulated with some very creative expletives. Why was he making such a big deal out of washing his hair? Daxter washed twice a week if they could get the soap for it. Jak...didn't wash as much, but he tried to at least rinse off the sweat.

"It's just washing hair, how long could it take?" he snorted as Sig dragged out a low stool in front of the sink in the corner.

"An hour at least," Sig grumbled.

"An hour? For hair?" Jak sputtered, "Why would you spend that much time on it?!"

Sig looked at him. Damas looked at him. After a moment, Damas sighed.

"Well, that tracks."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

Damas reached up and fiddled with the crown piercings, sliding them out of tiny metal ports in his skull with a soft click one by one. He set them on the table and distractedly waved Jak over.

"Hair like ours requires more care than your friend there," he explained. "I somewhat doubt you like running around with your curls all knotted and broken together like that. Hasn't anyone ever showed you how to care for them?"

Daxter scoffed. "Self-care was never high on Samos's priority list of subjects to teach us."

Curious but cautious, Jak edged closer to the table to look at the jars Damas had set out. Oils, creams, some kind of soap. Were Damas and Sig really going to use all of these? He picked one up and examined it closely, smelling coconut.

"That's the last step," Sig said, plucking the jar from his hands unexpectedly.

Jak blinked. Without his hood and armor, Sig looked...weird. His hair was close-cropped, but not shaved; olive green coils somewhat smashed into the shape of his helmet. Daxter snickered from behind him.

"Hat hair!" he whispered.

Sig was not amused. He yanked open the first jar of oil and applied it liberally to his hair. "Just do as I do, cherry. No commentators from the peanut gallery."

Damas followed suit with an impish smile altogether out of place on his stoic face. "This is why I don't do helmets."

"Because your head is too fat for them?"

Damas paused in rubbing the oil into his locs to narrow his eyes at Sig. "I know how to override your door lock, you know."

"Oooh I'm so scared. Whatcha gonna do? Shampoo me to death?" Sig taunted.

"I could do that. Or I could add something to your ammunition pouch."

"Add what?"

"I'm not telling you."

"Add what, Daym?"

"You'll find out."

Jak raised an eyebrow at the two grown men behaving like, well, like him and Daxter. They seemed distracted, and he was curious, so after a moment he gave in and poured a handful of oil into his own hair. Presumably they'd wash it out next.

He was wrong.

Thirty minutes he had to sit with the oil soaking into his hair, bored out of his skull. No wonder Sig hated doing this! He couldn't even leave the room, because he didn't know where to find another sink! Equally bored, Daxter started rifling through Jak's jacket pockets until he came up with the bag of trail rations.

"Wanna play Kill-Grid?" he asked, holding up the bag, "Nuts versus beans?"

"We don't have a grid," Jak pointed out.

Sig leaned forward. "Kill-Grid? What's that?"

Jak shrugged. "It's a game we played a lot back in Sandover. You make a grid of sixteen squares. Twelve pieces on each side, the middle row stays empty."

Daxter opened the bag to see if there were enough nuts and beans to even play as he added, "It's...kinda like checkers. Except the board shrinks if a whole row gets cleared out."

"Yeah! If every piece in one row gets captured, you erase that row and make the grid even smaller. Whoever has the most pieces left when there aren't any more open spaces is the winner."

Just speaking about the game seemed to lift a weight from the boy. Damas saw life returning to his eyes, and he actually sounded like a fifteen year old ought to for a moment. Sorrow clawed at his guts like an animal trapped inside. This was his son, his firstborn, and a complete stranger. A young boy who seemed to only barely remember that he was meant to have a childhood. Who didn't even know basic self-care.

"Time's up," he said, gently interrupting the explanation, "Time to shampoo."

"Finally!" Sig huffed.

The chamber fell silent save for the sounds of water splashing and soap squishing into curls. Jak watched Sig with wide eyes, earnestly mimicking every step as best he could. Cross-legged on the rug, barefoot and barefaced, he looked...he looked like he belonged there. Like he always should have. Damas watched his lost-and-found child's face morph into surprise as he discovered how easily his fingers slipped through the tangles now. It wasn’t so very different from teaching Mar to wash his own hair. Just how neglected had Jak been? Damas couldn’t help wondering if Jak and Mar were on equal footing in their knowledge of how growing up was meant to be. It wasn't right for a boy to be so unused to kindness. It wasn't natural.

"Y'know," Daxter remarked, "I really didn't think your hair was that long?"

Jak shrugged helplessly and fumbled with slippery, wet hair, trying to put yet another round of oil into it. Before, it had brushed against his shoulder blades, bulked out with matts and snarls. Now it hung nearly to his waist, and he was getting tired of it sticking to his fingers.

"Ugh," he groaned after having to return to the oil jar yet again. "Sig, can I borrow your knife? I'm not doin' this."

Damas shot Sig a dirty look as the taller man snickered.

"What, ah, whatcha gonna do with it, cherry?"

Jak raised a brow. "Cut it??"

With some effort, he gathered up the thick hair into one fist and gestured to about three inches. "Look, that's gonna get tangled in my holster. I don't wanna deal with that."

"We have scissors, you know," Damas pointed out.

"Knife's faster."

Damas paused and blinked. Somehow, Jak had turned out more like Sig than Mar had, and Mar was the one who actually shared blood with him! As grateful as he was -- overwhelmingly, shatteringly relieved and grateful -- that of all the people to have taken Baby Heart under his wing, it was Sig, he could have done without Sig’s impatience for hair care being passed along.

Even so, there was no bite in his voice when he muttered to Sig, "He gets this from you, doesn't he?"

"I apologize for nothing," Sig joked.

He pulled his knife out and handed it over to Jak.

"Let Daxter do it, kiddo. He can see the parts you can't."

"Fair enough," Jak agreed easily.

"If I get buried in this stuff, I demand financial compensation," Daxter warned as he was passed the knife.

"That's going to bounce up shorter than you think, you know," Damas commented. "Especially with the extra weight taken off."

"Hey, as long as it's not in my face or wrapped around my gun, I don't give a crap," Jak answered. He leaned back on his palms to give Daxter better access to the long curls.

"What was I supposed to do after the second oil soak? Is that it?"

"You can stop there," Sig begrudgingly admitted, "But in your case it...probably would be better to do one last thing of cream, since you don't wear a helmet like me. It'll protect your hair later."

Jak made a face, and Sig didn't blame him. As a boy, Sig had never been the most patient individual. He'd learned plenty of patience over the years, but when he was off-duty? He couldn't help some of the old instincts to just get it done and over with.

It was a good thing his mama couldn't see him right now. She'd box his ears and hold his head in the sink to finish the Wash Day herself. Selda had never let him get away with neglecting himself. Sig supposed he would have to start channeling his mother to ensure that Jak didn't continue to neglect himself.

Daxter set down the knife and examined his handiwork critically.

"Mm...well, it ain't stylish, but you don't look like you let a blindfolded batfinch style your hair, at least."

Damas made a little harrumph in the corner as he wrapped up his own application of a heated oil.

"Oh. Right. I need to change the batfinches' water tonight."

"Come again?" Daxter asked.

Sig picked up a wide-toothed comb and shrugged. "Damas keeps an aviary. He's got- what are you up to now, seven different species in there?"

"Ten, actually," Damas corrected. "The tavus eggs finally hatched. I had to get a pair of rock hens in order to hatch them, though."

"Rock hens? From the mountains?" Daxter asked, wrinkling his nose, "What's a rock hen got to do with peafowl?"

Damas’s eyes lit up with the prospect of actually talking about his birds.

"Rock hens will brood over anything even vaguely egg shaped," he said.

With a click he began setting his crown piercings back into their ports, gesturing now and then as he did.

"The incubators were hatching the peafowl eggs, but without other galliformes, the tavus chicks weren't surviving."

"You got them foster-moms," Daxter guessed, "Right?"

"I did!" Damas smiled. "They're doing quite well, so far."

Daxter stretched up over Jak's shoulder with a serious look. "We're gonna go see those birds, right?"

"After the flut-flut thing?" Jak teased him.

"They're already hatched! I don't gotta worry about gettin' mistaken for anybody's Ma this time!" Daxter argued. "Besides, I'm only goin' for you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, mister "I'm just good with animals"!"

Jak wasn't sure yet. Going to this guy's aviary -- which he talked about with the same enthusiasm Jak used to feel about his bug collection -- felt like it would lead the man to start acting more buddy-buddy with him. Jak wasn't interested in that. He wanted his little brother back, and then maybe they could talk boundaries. But...there were baby animals. And...

He really liked baby animals.

They didn't shy away from him, even when he was in his dark form. If it weren't for animals like the city yakkows and the crocadog, Jak would probably have believed what everyone said about his dark side being some kind of mindless animal.

"Hhh. Okay. We can see the tavus chicks," he agreed, rolling his eyes.

Damas looked so pleased that whatever was left of his intimidating image dropped and shattered on the floor.

If he could find something in common with this boy -- something other than their mutual protectiveness over Mar; a boy his age had no business being made a parental figure to his sibling -- then perhaps they could start over on a better foundation than "I thought you were in danger so I had you kidnapped from Haven City". Even if that had definitely been the right call at the time.

First

<Prev

[beast-of-the-void]

.

[yesimwriting]

Normalcy

A/n deadpool and wolverine drabble bc the movie was a little too good

Summary: Still reeling from the loss of your powers, you struggle to hold it together inside the TVA's void. Thankfully, you find an uncharacteristically peaceful distraction in your old friend Deadpool and in the wolverine variant who wants nothing to do with you.

Warnings/info: reader is a (former) avenger (bc i love the avengers <3), reader is described as having similar powers to wanda and having trained with her (bc i love wanda), implied beginning of an accidental love triangle if you squint ig, maybe too much lore for a drabble (?), me writing for characters for the first time so be nice 😭

----

The lines etched into your palms do not bend and twist to spell out secrets, there are no messages worth decoding pressed into your skin. Knowing this is not enough to stop you from staring at your hands like if you could just think about it hard enough...

"There you are, Peanut." The words are so warm you're briefly pulled out of your internal angst. You straighten, head lifting slightly and arms crossing in front of your chest. "Thought I lost you."

Wade continues forward until he's directly in front of you. He pauses, watching you with an unabashed openness that you'd only ever allow him to get away with. "Kidding," he tries, "I'd never lose you."

The familiarity of the casual affection eases you further, the corner of your mouth tugging itself upwards. "I was like 15 feet away from you."

"Sorry for caring." It's his go to comeback when it comes to defending the displays of affection you have the audacity to find overdramatic.

You blink, lips parting despite your lack of response. The world has felt a little slower these last few days, moving at a pace that leaves you with no choice but to reflect. Maybe it's the void.

"Hey," his voice feels a little flatter without his usual humor, "Are you okay?"

You let out a breath, shocked by this new low. Sure, you've known Wade for awhile and you've both seen each other through plenty of stages, but he's never felt the need to attempt a genuine pep talk for you. He's never struck you as the pep talk sort...for anyone. Do you really seem that off?

It's bad enough that your identity crisis has stolen the abilities that would have helped your trio pop out of the void with no real fanfare, you can't also make your insecurities everyone else's problem. "Yeah." The response doesn't feel convincing, but with Wade wearing the Deadpool mask, it's hard to be sure. "Just y'know...we're in a void and our reality might be ripped apart, so I've been better."

He's still watching you with a level of focus that's unnerving. You've gotten used to his familiarity, his lack of care for personal space or the social rules around watching people. "You're doing it again."

"Seducing you with my ability to have a heart to heart while looking this good in my suit?"

You sigh in an attempt to dismiss your slight smile. Happy or sad, superhero that once fought Thanos or regular person that can't regulate their emotions, Wade always treats you the same. "The staring thing. You said you'd stop."

"No, you said I'd stop." The correction is a return to what you're used to. He takes a step towards you, his proximity now forcing you to tilt your chin up slightly to look him in the eye. "I'd never promise to look at you less."

"Comforting."

He angles his chin downwards, making the limited distance feel more significant. "I thought so." For a moment, he's quiet in a way that doesn't feel very him. "Are you sure you're...good?" His hesitance is another reminder that this is far out of his element. "I know this is your first..." Wade's rarely careful, only ever treading lightly on the one subject you never want to bring. "Outing, since..."

"I lost my powers."

Wade goes quiet again. If this conversation is as inevitable as it seems, a part of you wishes it could have come up elsewhere. Maybe in your shared apartment, definitely without the mask so you could better interpret his reactions. It's not often you keep secrets from him, but the hollowness you feel knowing the part of yourself you've lost isn't something you can just share.

It's more than just about missing your party tricks, it's about losing a part of yourself. They were all that was left of your time with the Avengers, of what Wanda taught you before Westview.

He lets out a breath. "They're not lost." You raise your eyebrows slightly, giving him a look meant to caution him against sympathetic optimism. "We don't know that."

He seems so happy to be able to tell you that there's no proof that any and all magical abilities have been flushed out of your system, you don't have it in you to remind him that that's mainly because you have no one to ask. What's left of the Avengers and your government connections either barely understand what you were or are untrustworthy.

"Educated wish?"

His mask muffles a slight gasp. You press your lips together in an attempt to resist smiling. "The last one worked out great."

Your eyebrows pull together skeptically, a reminder that the two of you are still technically in the middle of the last educated wish he attempted to speak into existence. "Didn't Wolverine stab you multiple times--"

He cuts you off with a heavy sigh. "If I took getting stabbed personally, do you know where we'd be?"

In a reality where Wade holds grudges over those kinds of things, you wouldn't be anything to each other, except maybe enemies. You've never pulled a knife or sword or anything sharp on him, but when you first met he did startle you before you had a total grip on your abilities, which resulted in him getting thrown through a wall.

"I never stabbed you."

His hand finds your shoulder. You let him drag his thumb against against the fabric of your suit. "And that's how I know you really love me, Peanut."

You roll your eyes in an attempt to dislodge the warmth that settles in the pit of your stomach. The last thing Wade needs is encouragement. "I mean, I do go around stabbing everyone I like less than you."

He lets out a sound that feels like a scoff attempting to mask itself as a dry laugh. "There's the sense of humor that'd hurt me if I knew you less."

"Well--"

He squeezes your shoulder, "I know you." Okay. You'll let him have this one because maybe there's some truth to what he's saying. "I'm going to go check on the car, because a fucking Honda Odyssey would break down on us for no reason before we got to the fight."

"For no reason or because of the bitch fight you and Wolverine had in it?"

There's a beat of silence in which all you can do is try to imagine Wade's expression behind the mask. You'd like to think that he's smiling. "Oh, Pumpkin." He sighs as if you've stumbled onto saying something terribly naive. "It wasn't a bitch fight, it was awesome, and probably turned you on."

You deadpan a flat, "You caught me." He hasn't let go of your shoulder, and a part of you is oddly glad for it. "I'd offer you help with the car, but..."

You're self aware enough to acknowledge your strengths and weaknesses, car maintenance being the latter. Wade doesn't even let you get your oil changed by yourself anymore.

"I've met you." He squeezes your shoulder again, the gesture weirdly stabilizing. "Give me 15 minutes to actually look at the car and then I'm all yours."

Wade lets go of you, his arm falling to his side. "Aren't you always?"

He lets out an exaggerated gasp. "You're making me feel cheaper than my usual rate, Peanut."

You smile as he turns away. Things are always a little easier with Wade. It's more than just distraction, it's his way of making things feel a little lighter. You're not sure what to do with your 15 minutes of solitude to avoid falling back into self pity.

You originally broke away from the group of void trapped heroes under the premise of needing fresh air, but even here, with the expansive, sparsely wooded area at your disposal, the oxygen in your lungs still feels flat. If Wanda were around, you'd be able to ask if she felt the strangeness of this other plane of existence as well. At least then you'd know if your dislike of the void is only mental or an actual sign of life from your abilities.

You begin to walk forward, hoping to shed all thoughts of both your former self and the eeriness of this other world. There are other people you could talk to you. The others have been polite enough, or at the very least, passionate enough to be talked into facing Cassandra.

The trees you've been wandering through grow in their sparsity, the edge of the woods revealing a patch of grassland highlighted by a fire's warm glow. You squint past the tree line, attempting to make out the figure sitting in front of the flames. Wolverine.

Secluded from the group and staring at a campfire. Surprising. Though, you guess it's not fair to judge him too harshly, you left the group to brood as well.

He doesn't like you, doesn't know you well enough to dislike you, but it took him no time to find a way to get around that. Maybe it's your proximity to Wade. You've done your best to take his hostility as un-personally as possible. You've seen enough people you really care about go through the guilt ridden, fallen hero thing to know how deep that kind of hurt runs.

You've never known a Wolverine or Logan Howlett variant, so you have no way of knowing what he was like before. Sure, you've heard stories, but you're also overly aware of how the media can twist and turn those stories to fit their narrative. One day, a superhero is the world's greatest protector, and the next their the greatest menace. Maybe he was always a little dark, or maybe he wasn't.

"Don't just stand there." The gruffness of his voice startles you more than it should.

Heat crawls up your neck, a part of you more embarrassed than you should be. You weren't lurking, or at the very least, you weren't trying to.

You sigh as you abandon the safety of the tree line. "Sorry." He turns his head away from the fire. "I wasn't--I was just walking."

He's quiet for such a long moment you almost expect him to not respond at all. "Without your shadow?"

Wow, only a halfhearted dig at Wade. You must have caught him in a good mood. "Friend, and he's looking at the car. I'd be looking at the car with him, but I figured the odds for tomorrow are bad enough as is."

Another uneasy stretch of silence. "Yeah." There's not much, if anything, to take from the comment. "If you're here to convince me to go with you guys tomorrow--"

"I'm not." It's an honest answer. You had been walking around aimlessly and happened to stumble onto him. "I'm not into the pep talk thing." He scoffs, the sound lacking in genuine aggression. "What?"

He lifts his gaze from the fire, his eyes settling on some point past the horizon. "I thought you were an Avenger."

You're not sure what bugs you more, the fact that he's so sure he has you all figured out or the implication that the Avengers spend their days encouraging each other instead of actually doing things. What the Avengers are--or maybe were--is so much more than that.

You step forward, further separating you from the cluster of trees. "The Avengers are about a lot more than that."

His attention briefly shifts onto you before returning to the flames. If the silence is meant to be dismissive, it doesn't feel that way. There's a patience there that doesn't suit his usual brooding.

"Do you care if I sit?" The question is forced out before you can overthink it. "I promise no inspirational speeches or small talk."

After a beat, he dips his chin downwards in a nod so subtle you would have missed it if you had been watching him any less carefully. You're more relieved by his acceptance than you should be, your feet carrying you towards the campfire.

You sit at a polite distance, knees bent in front of you. His silence seems to push against the void's sluggishness. Maybe the issue has been you fighting this world's momentum.

"Why are you with him?" You're not sure if you're more shocked by the question or the break in silence. When all you can do is blink, he continues, "You seem--" He subtly clears his throat, as if struggling to admit this next part, "Nice, normal."

Oh. If you had been focused, you likely would have got what he meant without the clarification. "I know Wade's a lot--especially to you." You place a hand against your knee, thinking about that very specific safety you only feel with Wade. You don't have to try at being anything, or worry about earning your keep in any capacity. "But once you get to know him, he's a good friend."

You look away from the fire pit in time to see the skeptical look Logan throws in your direction. "I'm serious." His expression doesn't change. "He um--after I stopped being important to everyone else, he still liked me ." This isn't the conversation you wanted to stumble onto, especially not with someone who you barely know and actively dislikes you. "That sounds kind of dumb, but the point is, he's loyal."

He turns his head back towards the fire. "You always call him by his name." The observation is so stiff you'd consider it hesitant if it came from anyone else.

You've never thought much about Wade's name. Part of it is familiarity, and the rest of it is a force of habit. Even when you were with the Avengers, you preferred using actual names when off duty. It's easier to separate the mask from the person beneath it when you make an active effort to.

You shrug. "I'm not into off duty superhero names, Wolverine."

He falls silent again. You concentrate on the flames, the way they illuminate the world around you. "You can--" He cuts himself off, attention never wavering from the fire. "You can call me Logan, if you want."

An unsteady warmth roots itself in your chest. You didn't expect any sort of kinship between you and the wolverine Wade stole from some other timeline beyond him occasionally accepting your attempts at creating peace between him and Wade.

"Okay," you focus on keeping your tone measured, avoiding any emotions that might startle him, "Logan."

There's no tension in the quiet that follows. You let the minutes pass until you're certain that Wade's waiting for an interruption disguised as an attempt to help. "I should go, Wade's probably waiting for me."

You push yourself to stand. You let yourself glance at him one last time before turning towards the trees you emerged from.

[wilwheaton]

hello mr wil wheaton when you were my age (like exactly i think) you were filming stand by me

I turned 13 during production, so if you're about to become a teenager, I hope you'll let me offer some thoughts that I wish an adult had shared with me, then?

I know this is a wall of text, and giving someone this much of your attention is a HUGE ask. Maybe bookmark this for another time, if you're not into hearing an old man talk.

I wrote this a few days before I turned 50. Thank you in advance for listening, and I wish you a life filled with joy, unconditional love, kindness, and adventure.

Hey everyone! An old man is talking!

In seven days, I will be 50 years-old. This is ... weird. I do not feel the way I expected I would feel when I was approaching 50, nor do any of my friends. The only time I feel like I'm middle-aged is when my body does some bullshit that takes me down for hours because I had the nerve to stand up quickly. And I really hate it when I have to use the flashlight on my phone to see a menu. I mean, at that point, I may as well be dropping my pants for free and singing the Old Gray Mare.

Anyway. This has been on my mind for a little bit, so I had something to say when someone used my tumblr ask me thingy earlier this week:

Q: I hope I'm as cool as you when I'm 49. I'd like to think I'm taking the right steps towards that version of myself. A: So I'm not sure I'm cool, but I do know that I don't suck, and that it's a choice I make every day. I desperately wish someone in my family had told me, or shown me by example, that getting older doesn't mean getting stupid and boring and stuffy and extremely uncool. I wish I'd known that, because I spent all of my life until I was in my 40s feeling like there was this day coming very soon when I would have to stop listening to punk, stop playing video games, put on a suit, and start yelling at kids for no good reason. I didn't know that you don't have to suddenly stop being who you are and become something or someone you hate, just because of a certain age. I know that's super obvious, but to young me, it was not. My dad was an asshole, my mom never showed up for me. Directors and people on set had been treating me like a thing for my entire life. I got yelled at for no reason from adults who knew better almost every day. Most of my elementary school teachers were authoritarian, evangelical assholes. All of these different adults, consistently, shut me down and made me feel like I didn't matter, the things I liked were stupid, and my opinions were invalid because of reasons I didn't understand because I was a dumb kid. So I presumed that when you got to be a certain age, that's what happened. I didn't want to be that, at all, and I was sincerely afraid of the day it would happen. But as I got older, I discovered that all that stuff I hated about adults doesn't automatically happen. Those adults I just mentioned all made a choice to be an asshole. I just didn't know it. I was in my early 20s when I did a movie with a cinematographer who was, I think, 45 at the time. He was the coolest, kindest, most artistic dude I'd ever known. He mentored me and we had epic fun making great art together. I remember telling him, "I'm not afraid of being in my 40s like I used to be. I didn't know you could still be cool." It's sad, that I grew up in such a toxic environment, and didn't know any of these things. So, 9 days before I turn 50, here are a couple things I have figured out: You know who sucks when they hit 49 and 50? People who sucked when they were 20 and never grew up. You know who is an asshole at 49 and 50? Yep. Someone who was an asshole as a kid and never experienced consequences for being an asshole. Hitting middle age has been awesome for me. Other than the aging of my body and its reluctance / refusal to do what I want it to do, I love everything about it. I wish I hadn't spent so much of my life being afraid that, when I hit 50, it was all over. Because honestly it's kind of just starting. The coolest stuff in my life to date has all happened in the last ten years, and I'm so grateful that it coincided with me figuring out a lot of shit so I could enjoy it.

The best part of getting older, by several thousand light years, is the part where we figure out how to stop putting up with other people's bullshit, and we contract our social circle until it's only populated with a VERY few people who deserve us. And I am incredibly grateful for these occasional opportunities to be a 49 year-old dad who can say all the things that would have been reassuring for 19 year-old me to hear (he wouldn't have understood, but 29 year-old me would have remembered, and he would have understood. I think.) I sincerely hope someone hears it and finds it helpful. Anyway, you're gonna be fine. Just remember that being cool, kind, honest, honorable, reliable, listening and showing up … they are all choices. If you want to be cool when you're 49, make the choice and set the example for someone to follow you. Treat kids the way you wanted to be treated when you were young. Listen to them when they offer you the privilege, because that means they trust you, and you have credibility with them. Be a mentor. Be supportive. Show up. Make a choice to be the person you need in the world, and never stop being that person. Start today, and when you're nearing 50 like I am, hopefully you'll remember who you needed right now, so you can be that person to someone else in the future. You're already asking the right questions and taking the first steps. I believe in you. You've got this.

Okay, if you've come this far, perhaps you'll follow me a little bit more, and read a thing I wrote about talking to students just a tiny bit older than you, which contains my core values.

Be honest. I’m a very old man, relative to y’all, and I’ve learned that the only currency that really matters in this world is the truth.

Be honorable. This dovetails with number one. You attract to yourself what you put into the world. Dishonorable people will take everything from you and leave you with nothing. Do your best to be a person they aren’t attracted to.

Work hard. I don’t mean, like, at your crappy minimum wage job you hate. I mean do the hard work that makes relationships work, that gets you ahead in your education, that gets you closer to your goals. Everything worth doing is hard. Everything worth doing requires hard work. Sooner or later, you’re going to run into something in your life that’s really hard, and you’ll want to give up, but it’s something you care so much about, you’ll do whatever you can to achieve it. It’s going to be hard, but it’s going to be less hard for someone who has practiced doing the hard things all along, than it is for someone who doesn’t know how to do the hard work because they’ve always chosen the easy path.

Always do your best. Even if you don’t get the result you wanted, doing your best — which will vary from day to day, moment to moment — is all you can ever do. We tell athletes to leave it all on the field. Whatever your version of that is, do it.

This is the most important one. This is the one I hope you’ll all hear and embrace. This is the one I hope you’ll share with your peers: Always be kind.”

When I read number 5, I looked up at them. I was so happy to see a classroom filled with teenagers who were all listening intently, even the ones I thought had tuned me out. “Here’s the thing about being Kind, versus being Nice,” I said. “I have interacted with lots of nice people who are incredibly unkind. Why is that? How do you choose to be nice but not kind?”

I pointed to my head. “This is where nice comes from,” I said. Then, I put my hand over my heart. “This is where kind comes from.” I put my hands out, like, “get it?”

There was this collective gasp of realization that I did not expect, at all. One kid said “Oh damn!” I saw a few kids look at each other like the trick had just been explained to them. They heard me. They really, really heard me. And it was amazing.

Okay, that's all. If you're still here, thank you for giving me so much of your time and attention. I hope you'll come back in a few years, and let me know how you're doing.

[strangersteddierthings]

What's Eight Plus Seven?

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five

Prompt from @devious-kitten

Steve had a mild interest in DnD as a freshmen because of a cousin or something. The interest was killed by Eddie being mean since Steve is a jock. Post vecna Eddie finds dust covered DnD handbook Steve explains and Eddie faces a still hurt Steve as a results of his biases

((Half written fic, half rambling about how it would go down. Apologies for the formatting. Also I added more angst than the prompt called for hehe))

Steve has always loved sports. This is a well-known fact. He's played on some sort of sports team from the time he was old enough for his parents to be able to sign him up.

A lesser-known fact is that Steve loves fantasy. Or, at least, he used to. On the playground in elementary school, Steve could often be found playing knights and dragons, and it was anyone's guess if he would be a knight or a dragon on any particular day.

The summer between middle and high school, Steve spent with his grandparents from his mother's side, on the farm they'd retired on in Michigan. A month long stay that he'd shared with his cousins, Amber, Robert, and Christopher. Amber and Robert are twins, four years younger than Steve, and Christopher was two years older and infinitely cooler than anyone else Steve knew.

Christopher was on the varsity basketball team at his high school when he was just a sophomore, captain of the JV football team, president of the chess club, and in a games club.

Christopher was everything Steve wanted to be now that he was going to be in high school. Minus the chess club because

It was during that summer, Steve got to indulge in playing make believe for another summer with his younger cousins, without the judgement of people (his father and peers) who thought he was too old for such things. He also got to learn about make believe for older kids, because Christopher played a game called Dungeons and Dragons with his game club the last month of school before summer break and spent many evenings going over what had happened with Steve as a captive audience.

"I wish I'd brought the books," Christopher had whispered to him one night from the bed, peaking over to look down at Steve in his sleeping bag on the floor, "we could have played."

Steve wishes he'd brought the books, too.

At the end of July, Christopher, Amber, and Robert's parents show up to pick them up, five days before Steve's scheduled flight to Indianapolis. It's a sad goodbye because one summer a year isn't enough with his cousins but they live in Washington. Steve's always jealous their parents drive all the way to pick them up, but a little proud he gets to brag about how he's flown alone since he was seven. No one else in his class can brag about that.

His mom picks him up in Indianapolis and they go back to school shopping while there.

A week later, Steve receives a package from Christopher. Inside Steve finds Advanced Dungeons and Dragons books, three of them, and even though Christopher said nothing about advanced, he's sure he can manage. On the inside cover of the players handbook, Christopher has written:

Hey Steve, I think you'd rock playing a dwarf paladin. Let's play next summer? Christopher 1981

He spends the last three weeks of summer vacation reading the player handbook cover to cover and making a character. It's slow going, because letters don't stay where they're supposed to be on the page (that's a problem he's had his whole life, so he's not surprised but he is determined), and he's never been good at math, so getting the stats down on paper isn't easy. He can't decide what he wants to play, so he makes two characters; an elf magic-user and, of course, a dwarf paladin.

(He's a little disappointed you can't be a dragon.)

Steve's never been one to dread the first day of school, but he's never actually looked forward to it, either. It's just been another day.

Until today.

Today is his first day as a high schooler. And the only people who go to the first day are Freshman, except the upper classman that have volunteered to man the booths for school activities for the last hour of the day. It's supposed to help the Freshman get the lay of the land without being overwhelming and Steve's excited for it. He needs to see if Hawkins High has a games club like Christopher's school does.

Here Steve is, that last hour of school. He's already been to the basketball booth, promising to sign up as soon as the season started, and the swim booth because he's got a pool at his house and has been swimming for as long as he can remember and knows he enjoys it. He also stops by the football booth even though he's never played, or cared much, for it. (Maybe he's trying to emulate Christopher, sue him.). So, the final thing is to see if Hawkins High offers a chess club and a game club.

Steve is delighted to see that, though there is no games club, there is a Dungeons and Dragons club! That delight wavers because of the kid manning the booth. His hair is curly and falls just below his ears, with big brown eyes. Steve hates to think it, but he'd be cute if he didn't look like he wanted to stab Steve.

"Yeah, no, keep walking," says the boy, pulling the flier with meeting information on it out from under Steve's hand, where he'd been attempting to read it.

Steve looks up, brows furrowed in confusion. "I was reading that."

"And I said no. Jocks don't play Dungeons and Dragons."

"I could," Steve says, offended. He squints at the name tag sticker slapped diagonally across the way too big jean vest this guy's wearing. E-d-d-i-e. Eddie.

"Have you ever played?"

"Well... no, but-"

"No buts. Mitch let a jock join last year and that was a nightmare. He could barely read the rule book. And with how you were squinting down at the flier, and then my name tag, you're not going to be much better."

Jokes on Eddie, Steve's already read the rule book. Even if it was slowly. "I can read just fine."

"Can you math, then? What's eight plus seven?"

"What?"

"Simple addition. Eight plus seven. What is it?"

Steve knows simple addition. This is fine. It doesn't matter than he's been put on the spot, and that math is hard for the same reason as reading. He can do this. His hand twitches with wanting to pull it up and use it to keep track. He's faster at math when he can do that, but this jerk is mean mugging him and he just knows if he moves his hand, this guy will mock him the rest of the school year.

Eight plus seven. Ok. Make it easier, get to ten. It takes adding two to the eight to get ten. Ok. Take that two away from the seven now. That makes... five! Ok. Ten plus five is-

"Dude, it's fifteen," Eddie snaps.

"I knew that!"

Scoff. "Right. How about seventeen plus six."

Steve can feel his face turning red with embarrassment but he's not going to let this jackass be right. Round up. It takes three to get seventeen to twenty, so take three away from the six-

"23. Point proven. Go. Away. Go play your jock games and leave me- us alone."

Steve opens his mouth to argue, or maybe plead, that he can do this, and that, more importantly, he wants to do this, but laughter cuts through the air and for the first time, Steve notices the audience that has gathered. Three people are laughing at him, and his inability to do mental math, and it makes Steve snap his jaw shut and swallow.

"Mental math isn't that hard, Steve," one of them, Brant, says, as he elbows the guy next to him.

"Thank you!" Eddie says, "that's what I'm saying."

"Whatever, man, like I'd want to play make believe at this age anyway," Steve mutters and rushes away.

If, two weeks later, Steve watches Kyle trip who he now knows is Eddie 'The Freak' Munson in the bathroom, and drag him into a stall for a swirly, well, no he didn't. He briefly thinks of saying something to stop Kyle, but shoves the words down and instead turns on heel and leaves that bathroom just as the sound of flushing and Eddie yelling start. The thick bathroom door does a good job of muffling the noise and if Steve feels any guilt about that, he shoves that down, too.

Besides, Kyle's the captain of the basketball team and if Steve wants a chance to be on that team, he can't stay anything. It's a well-known fact that Steve likes sports, after all. He's going to stick to that. Screw Eddie Munson and his Dungeons and Dragons club.

Steve will get to play Dungeons and Dragons with Christopher next summer.

Except, halfway through the school year, Steve and his parents quickly board a plane bound for Washington. Turns out being as perfect as Christopher was is hard. Overwhelming.

They arrive the day before the funeral, and fly out right after it. Steve barely has time to mourn before they're shuffling him back to school that Monday.

Christopher died, and with him, so does Steve's desire to be just like him. He quits the football team. He keeps basketball because he does like it, even without Christopher's influence. He can't bring himself to get rid of the Dungeons and Dragons books, but he can't look at them, either. They end up in the downstairs hall closet, forgotten on the shelf.

So, years later, after rising to the top of the food chain (no one was ever going to embarrass him like Eddie Munson had again) and then falling to the bottom (who cares about high school popularity when interdimensional monsters exist) and of course, the years of fighting against said interdimensional monsters before ending it all in spring of '86, Steve finds himself, unwillingly, agreeing to host Hellfire since the school banned the club following the events of spring break.

Damn Dustin Henderson. Steve usually has the backbone to say no but Dustin had to play up 'getting a chance to finally just be kids' and fuck, how was Steve going to say no to that? Despite how quickly his own desire to be a freshman playing Dungeons and Dragon had been squashed, he can't be the one to ruin this for them.

"Thanks for hosting, man," Eddie says when Steve lets him in. He's an hour early but had asked if that was okay. Apparently the dungeon master has a lot of prep to do? Not that Steve would know.

"Sure," Steve says, dismissively, because while Eddie and he went through hell together, and Steve carried his sorry ass out of the Upside Down, Steve can't quite let his guard down around him.

It's funny. In the Upside Down, Eddie had made a point to tell him he's changed, is a 'good dude' now. So, what's funny is how much Eddie is exactly the same person he was five years ago. He was an ass to Steve five years ago, and as far as Steve is concerned, was also an ass to Lucas for wanting to play basketball just this year.

He swears to God, if he hears one negative thing about Lucas tonight, he's punching Eddie unconscious, no matter what the rest of Hellfire will do or say about it.

Eddie's been in his dining room for maybe five minutes before he finds Steve in the living room. Steve's got a movie playing but he couldn't tell you which one. He's not really watching it.

"Do you got a table cloth for that big table? Jeff's got a set of metal dice and I'd feel like a real ass if we scratched it on accident."

Steve takes a deep breath before answering. He hates that Eddie is considerate like this, has been since spring break if Steve's being honest, but he doesn't want to see Eddie's good qualities. So, he waves in the direction of the closet. "Yeah. There should be some in the hall closet there. Help yourself."

"Thanks."

He twists on the couch to watch Eddie cross the room to the closet door, listens as the door creaks opens, hears the quiet, pleased noise Eddie lets out when his eyes land on the stack of table clothes. Steve continues to watch as Eddie just grabs the whole stack and yanks them off the top shelf.

Which means his watching as the stack of non-fabric objects, which must have been half atop the table clothes, also tumble out of the closet, bouncing off various parts of Eddie. It's a bunch of miscellaneous items. However, Steve realizes with horror, the book that bounces off Eddie's head is his copy of the Monster Manual. Eddie has stepped back in surprise (and possibly pain), so the Dungeon Master Guide and the Players Handbook bounce off his torso and leg before landing on the ground.

"Fuck," Eddie curses, before he stares down at what just assaulted him. Steve just stares at Eddie, watching as he slowly comes to comprehend what he's seeing. He watches as Eddie bends down and grabs the Player Handbook, the last thing to fall, from a top the pile. "What the-"

Steve stands, suddenly defensive, but doesn't actually say anything or move closer. He just watches as Eddie examines the book, flipping it from front to back in his hand like the title will change if he does that enough times.

Then, Eddie turns to him, bewildered. "Present for one of the kids? Thought they all had their own copies."

"No."

Eddie flips the book open. Reads the words written in there so many years ago. "Who's Christopher? Wait. 1981? You were playing D&D in 1981?"

"None of your business, and no," Steve says, now kicking into action, stomping up to Eddie and snatching the book from his hands.

Eddie hold his hands up in defense before his eyes turn mischievous. The same glint in them now that was there when Eddie'd leaned into this space in the RV and called him big boy. "Are you lying to me, Stevie? You've played before, haven't you?"

It makes Steve's blood boil. "No. I haven't played!"

"Alright. You could now, you know," Eddie says. And it's the way he says it, all nonchalant and like he's trying to be coy about it- it tips something over inside Steve. A bottle that held his humiliation and hurt from all those years ago.

"Oh, now I'm good enough for D&D? Now I can join? Aren't I too much of a jock for you!?"

"Whoa, what's with the hostility-"

"What's eight plus seven, Eddie!?" Steve snaps. His memory might be shit these days, with all the concussions, but the unfortunate part about Steve is that he always seems to remember the bad. And he remembers Freshman First Day like yesterday. "No? How about seventeen plus six? Come on, mental math isn't hard. Or don't you remember? I'm just a stupid jock too slow on the uptake, or no, what was it you said? It'll be a nightmare to play with me, 'cause I might be barely able to read the rules?"

He watches as Eddie's face morphs from confusion, to understanding and horror. "Holy shit, Steve. That was you- you wanted to join Hellfire-"

"Yeah, and you made it pretty fuckin' clear I didn't belong in it."

"I'm sorry man. I shouldn't have- if I'd known you, I never would have-"

"That's the problem, Eddie!" Steve shouts, waving the book in front of him. "You didn't know me. You looked at me and decided for me that I was going to be a jock and nothing else and then humiliated me in front of other people! You didn't even bother to try to know me. I spent three weeks reading this stupid book cover to cover because I knew I was shit at reading and I still wanted to try anyway."

He sees Eddie puffing up in anger. "Well, I wasn't exactly wrong, was I? You were a jock, a bully even!"

"Yeah, because I was a dumb, hurt kid who decided that it was better to hurt than be hurt. As if you weren't exactly the same that day, lashing out at me first, at my reading ability, and mocking me for not being quick at math. Fuck you, Munson!" Steve walks away, not hearing anything Eddie shouts after him as he sprints up the stairs and shuts himself in his room.

Steve knows he was a dick in high school, and it's not Eddie's fault he was a dick. Steve made choices he's not proud of and no one forced those choice on him. But Eddie doesn't get to throw that back in his face. Not when Eddie made him feel humiliated and stupid on the first goddamn day of high school, long before Steve became mean himself.

[kikitakite]

I saw your callout in the Gale tag for that one user (no comment on them, tho ty for the callout bc i'd seen them in the notes of my fics) and was curious if you could elaborate on some of the Mystra incidents you described towards the end of the post? I'm new to the lore of the setting and find it hard to research (which makes sense given its importance to dnd), so I've heard a lot of conflicting things about Mystra's portrayal in the wider series. No pressure, obviously!

No problem! And yea, I've seen her arguing in the posts of a few people I follow or just Gale-related posts I find interesting. Usually I don't get involved in stuff like this, but I noticed a constant pattern and then all the homophobic shit so I went off a little.

Unfortunately it's hard to find exact examples of the Mystra lore because certain modules aren't very popular or even free to access, but if you're interested the best way to learn about her is by reading the Elminster novels. There's twelve total, dating all the way back to 1994, and they detail Elminster's adventures. I'll be honest though, some of them are a hard read and written through the lens of a man who's admitted very creative, but also has a lot of problematic ideas.

In the first book Elminster is a child. His entire town gets wiped out by mages, thereby making him hostile toward magic. He sneaks into Mystra's temple to deface her statue one night, but she appears before him and basically gaslights him into learning magic and becoming her rare Chosen. He becomes a wizard and cleric basically overnight, until eventually he multiclasses into pretty much every class type in DnD. As you can imagine a lot of players aren't too fond of Elminster, as he's a well known self-insert of the author and pretty annoying to run into during campaigns. None of my dungeon masters like him anyway.

He also becomes one of Mystra's most loyal followers, but she fucks with him over and over, turning him into a woman to teach him a lesson and SLEEPING with him in that form, berating him when he struggles with the torture he endures when he gets stuck in the hells, making him reproduce without his knowledge and getting jealous when he gives his partners more attention. Because she's a very jealous goddess, which I think the game vaguely touches on but not really.

I wish I had the time to flip through all the novels and give exact citations but the best I can do is suggest them, because they're so eye opening. She's considered a neutral good goddess, but neutral gods often do terrible things for the sake of their domain. I think it needs to be noted that Mystra, as with all gods in the pantheon, only cares about her portfolio. She isn't wrong for that, but it doesn't mean she's blameless when she messes with people's lives. She's done a lot of good but she's also made horrible decisions, especially where her followers are concerned.

For example, Elminster having children he doesn't know about. He has a daughter named Narnra. Her conception was... pretty fucked up. Basically a song dragon named Ammaratha Cyndusk was an occasional lover of Elminster's (he has a lot of those because of course he does) and she wanted to bear his child, but since he's a Chosen of Mystra he can control his fertility. Magic birth control, basically. He didn't want a kid so Ammaratha went behind his back to learn a counterspell that would make him fertile during sex. The man she asked refused to teach her because...duh that's messed up, but then Mystra intervened and told him to teach her the spell because she wanted Elminster's "seed to spread". Ammaratha never told him and neither did Mystra. No matter what the reasons, that was NOT consensual on Elminster's part, and it happened two more times, resulting in two more daughters with different women. If I remember correctly Elminster did eventually find out waaaaay later when they were all adults, but it never amounted to anything.

The sisters I was taking about are the Seven Sisters, Mystra's "daughters". And I put "daughters" in quotations because Mystra possessed the body of a woman named Elué and impregnated her without her consent. She slept with the woman's husband (again, while possessing her body) and made them sire seven children. This of course lead to Elué's death because the constant flow of magic in her body was too much for her to handle. Her grieving husband broke after she died and eventually left, abandoning his daughters and earning Mystra's scorn...as if he was in the wrong. The sisters were then orphaned and raised by foster families.

That said, most of the awful things anyone can say about Mystra were the doings of her previous incarnations so ultimately it doesn't apply to the Mystra of BG3. In fact, this third Mystra is supposed to be a new and improved goddess who's nicer to her followers. So her portrayal in BG3 annoyed a lot of DnD fans. I should also point out that Mystra has two types of fans: ones who will defend everything she does, even when it's fucked up beyond all comprehension, and the ones who will tell you she's a true neutral goddess capable of good and bad. I'm the latter. There are plenty examples of Mystra sticking her neck out for innocents, but there's also examples of her doing the most horrendous shit imaginable.

A lot of veteran players, at least the ones I know, are upset with the portrayal of Mystra in BG3 because her plan to end the Absolute is, quite frankly, stupid. Your party is the best chance anyone has of ending the threat, but she asks Gale to nuke himself and possibly tens of thousands, which makes no sense because she could've just sent her mages/clerics to deal with the problem. And there was no guarantee the bomb would've worked anyway. She put all the responsibility on one man and it DEFINITELY comes off as vindictive. That isn't out if character for her but she's not SUPPOSED to be that bad anymore. For a lot of DnD players it felt like she was reverting back to her old habits.

I think there's also a part in the game where you can directly ask Gale why she doesn't just blip the Absolute out of existence and he says something like, "She could but Ao won't allow it." That was also really strange for a lot of veteran players to hear because Gale drops Ao's name like it's nothing. Most people (especially if they're new to the franchise) wouldn't know this but most people in Faerûn don't know who Ao is! Because he wiped people's memories of his existence! I suppose it does make sense for Gale to know that name, since Mystra probably explained the pantheon to him, but it's VERY unlikely tav would know it. So during that conversation all I could picture was tav tilting their head like, "Huh? Who? Whaaa?"

And on top of that......Ao absolutely WOULD allow it because the Absolute effects the Weave and every other god! It had the potential to ruin the balance of the universe, which makes Ao a very angry boy. Balance is one of the ONLY things he cares about. The Dead Three were stealing souls and worshippers, which gods needs to survive, and dying gods disrupts the balance. It's a whole circle of chaos. So the only conclusion left for me to extrapolate is this: Mystra just really, really wanted Gale to kill himself to prove his devotion to her. Which...isn't great. Bad look for her.

It's kind of like how Raphael thinks the Crown of Karsus is going to help him end the Blood War and take over the hells. DnD players laughed during his epilogue because...no it won't lol. He doesn't stand a chance even with the crown. He's arrogant and he's gonna get slapped by his daddy and all the other archdevils, the same way Gale gets slapped by Mystra if he ascends. Even the Absolute ending of the game wouldn't last long because the gods would go to war with the Dead Three, wipe them out and rebuild Faerûn, which has happened many times in past DnD campaigns. Mystra alone has torn worlds apart and glued them back together. The main crisis of BG3 is saving the world you live in or everybody dies. For the gods it's just a Tuesday. I mean look at how Withers owns the Dead Three with a wave of his hand at the end of the game. Mystra COULD'VE killed the Absolute, just as she could've removed the orb from Gale's chest the moment it happened. She just didn't WANT to. She wanted him to die. She wanted him to chastise himself. She wanted him to suffer and come crawling back to her as an obedient follower. She wanted him to learn a harsh and honestly unfair lesson, which is a terrible throwback to her previous incarnations.

[badbraincake]

Things I Wish I'd Known About Improving My Writing

People weren't kidding when they say that it's hard. Not only is writing generally pretty tedious and hard, but it's hard to learn a new skill period. So when you add the facts together, it makes me almost want to quit sometimes.

Reading really does help you become a better writer. Especially a good audiobook. I don't know what it is but somehow the flow and the word choice of the author seeps into my brain. It rubs off on me in a really great way.

It's better than I think it is. My writing isn't disgusting or impossible to consume. We're our own worst critics.

[quitealotofsodapop]

AU idea: Wukong goes into labor with the stone egg WHILE he's fighting Macaque

Not sure which fight you mean honestly, but I assume you meant the "OG" fight back during the Journey days.

I imagine this all occurs likely in a version of the Jttw Stone Egged au where Macaque joins the gang after he found out.

Wukong and Macaque are fighting neck and neck when Macaque finally stops to listen to Wukong's shouts;

Wukong, in tears: "Macaque please! Don't make me do this! I'm with-" Macaque: "What's that weird noise??" Wukong: "Huh?" Macaque: "It sorta sounds like a... bag of water? With a heartbeat inside of- OHHHH!" Macaque: (*points at Wukong's pants*) Wukong: (*looks down and sees that his water has broken*) Both monkeys: (*start screaming!*)

Macaque drops his glamour immediately to tend to his mate.

Macaque: "I have so many questions! Who, why, and how long?!" Wukong, has Macaque's hand in a death-grip: "You, Mountain, 500 years." Macaque, mental gears turning: "Huh!?! How did- ohhh wait... self-spawning. If I had kept coming and fed you peaches you wouldn't have-" Wukong: "Yeah!" Macaque: "And since I wa- Am your mate the kid would be-" Wukong: "YEAH." Macaque, trying to lighten the mood: "Do I get visitation rights?" Wukong, voice deepening: "DON'T PUSH IT, BUD!"

Eventually the Pilgrims and Guanyin catch up (the Bodhisattva heard that water break from across the sea), and see the Six Eared Macaque has completely dropped his Monkey King glamour and is trying his best to keep the real Sun Wukong's breathing steady.

Guanyin quickly gets to work; bringing Wukong to somewhere nice and warm and dry to have the baby. They suggest that the reappearance of the other parent (i.e Macaque) caused the Egg to prematurely decide to make itself known.

Bonus if this is the first time certain Pilgrims (besides a wise dragon-dragon) heard of such a thing XD

Ao Lie, excited: "It's already happening!? Congratulations!!" Wukong: "Thanks Lie, but I'd prefer to get the kid out before you all start thanking me." Zhu Bajie, oblivious: "Wait what kid!? They heck is everyone talking about?!" Tripitaka: (*hyperventilating into his hat like it's a paper bag*) Sha Wujing: "I suppose well wishes are in order! Did Brother Wukong drink from the same river and choose to decline the cure?" Wukong: "No, it's HIS fault." (*jabs thumb at Macaque*) Macaque: (*blushing, waves nervously at his mate's Pilgrim brothers*) Ao Lie, breaking the tension: "So this is your Equal in Strength you've been telling us about!" Macaque, slight smugness: "That's what you've been calling me?" Wukong, gritting teeth from pain: "Not now Mihou..."

Macaque stays at Wukong's side the whole time, even as his instincts are going nuts, snarling at the Pilgrims if they dare approach. And even when his hand was definitely broken by Wukong's grip during a really bad contraction.

The rest of the Pilgrims meditate and pray for Wukong and the baby's health. Ao Lie makes a point of chilling in his dragon form to scare off any passing creatures or people - dragons don't like being disturbed when they're laying an egg, and he imagines its the same for Stone Monkeys.

After a lot of pushing and encouragement, a tiny egg makes itself known, cracking open shortly thereafter.

What lies within?

A chirpy, chubby-faced baby monkey with glowing (Macaque starts crying then) ears and dark fur - the little thing's cries sounding indignant as if they'd been awakened from a long sleep. Guanyin makes a point to gather the citrine and amethyst-imbedded shell of the newborn for the parents to keep.

Wukong and Macaque can't even remember what they were fighting about earlier - all that matters is the clinging baby on Wukong's chest. Little thing is a bit smaller than expected due to their premature birth, but they're healthy and hungry.

The rest of the Pilgrims are allowed in after everything is cleaned up and Macaque's hand has been bandaged.

First thing out of anyone's mouth is;

Zhu Bajie: "I thought monkeys had litters?" Wukong, growling: "Don't jinx me."

So yeah, now the Journey has a newborn baby and it's dad along for the ride.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM LIFE IS STRANGE, SEASON 1 *  assorted dialogue, suggested by ismelodrama, adjust as necessary

everything is a picture waiting for be taken.

you're just jealous of me because i actually do the things you can't.

are you hiding something?

i'm sick of your disrespect. tell me the truth!

i don't want to fight with you anymore. i don't want to fight with anyone anymore.

i was eating those beans!

how the hell did you know about that photo?

always take the shot. my number one rule of photography.

you just don't listen, do you?

there's something weird going on with you.

you've only been here for three weeks and you're already causing conflict.

after this week, you are certainly not a little kid anymore.

not now. i'm contemplating shit.

are you fucking kidding me? this is major bullshit!

i didn't have all the evidence at the time.

we all make decisions we regret.

i'm not gonna make any excuses for my behavior.

i'd put stephen hawking against picasso any day.

it sucks to be dragged into the spotlight.

nobody believes me anyway.

you're exactly the kind of soldier i'd want by my side in a war.

why the hell not?

i almost asked you to hang out.

you should have asked me.

maybe we're too much alike.

i don't believe anything you say. you're full of shit.

eat a dick, [name].

i'll be in the tardis getting my delorean ready.

since you're the mysterious superhero... i'll be your faithful chauffeur and companion.

you don't know who the fuck i am or who you're messing around with.

where'd you get that? what are you doing? come on, put that thing down!

don't ever tell me what to do! i'm so sick of people trying to control me!

so you can't help me?

i told you before that i'll always believe you.

i may be a pest but... i'm a good listener.

you're the bravest person i've ever known.

for every action, there's a reaction.

i'm trying. but you have to understand my position.

i know i can be a pain in the ass... and you've always treated me like a person, not a beta nerd.

why do you want all your friends to die?

oh i see. i'm not important to you anymore.

nobody lectures me. everybody tries though.

do not analyze me! i pay people for that.

hey, that's total slander!

you don't know shit about my father, or me.

you're all fucked!

everybody hates me.

[name]... it's me. i just wanted to say i'm sorry.

i truly am sorry for being such a bastard.

you would have been cool to hang out with.

you might as well choose me.

i'm not perfect, okay?

you have talent, [name].

you don't have to push people out of your way.

thanks for admitting again that i have some talent.

do you think it's, like, fate we're not supposed to be friends?

nobody says we have to be friends.

everybody lies. no exceptions.

i came for all of you.

i'm in a nightmare and i can't wake up.

no wonder they call it a "web." nothing can ever get out.

i wish i could go back in time and erase everything.

just tell me you do have the photograph.

now shut up and listen.

i'm not a real scientist.

i was just happy just being your friend.

[name], i'm so sorry you had to go through all that.

i don't think i can concentrate on going out to the movies.

everybody pretends to care until they don't.

even angels need angels, [name].

i might be naive, but i feel their struggle.

why did you stop me from jumping?

this shit pit has taken everyone i've ever loved.

when a door closes, a window opens... or something like that.

i keep going back in time.

how could there be a more important moment in history?

thank you for trusting me.

hey... be careful out there.

what kind of friend are you?

you never understood me, or what happened to me.

i'll always be alone, thanks to you.

just in case we don't get out of this...

i'm going to make the right choices from now on.

i've been feeling like this might be actually the end of the world.

i hate to say that i'm glad to see you, but i'm glad to see you.

i wish i could stay in this moment forever... but then it wouldn't be a moment.

if that tornado came right now, i would just sit here and watch for a while.

i just feel like escaping.

i have total faith that you'll do the right thing when the time comes.

with great power comes great bullshit.

am i pushing myself too hard?

you like to hurt people, huh?

i'm glad you decided to escort me.

i know this is a bad time, but can i get one picture?

of course i believe you. you're the most amazing person i've ever met, and i'm glad you trust me.

i don't have a fucking clue what's going on.

[lyricailove]

Does it ever hit you that because of Frank and Monica's emotional detachment, all of the Gallagher's seek out affection from romantic partners? But like to an almost obsessive degree.

Fiona's is obvious. She's hypersexual and falls in love easily. She will downplay her issues with Frank as something she's grown used to, but it's clear that it still affects her. She also does the same when it comes to Monica but I feel like her hostility towards other women comes from how she doesn't trust Monica, doesn't really trust herself, and sees those insecurities on other women. Ex: Her treatment of Mandy and distrust of her around Lip.

Lip is a classic case of a man dealing with his mommy issues by making it every woman's problem. He's hostile towards his romantic partners when they want a real commitment from him and he talks to women with so much disrespect that it's a wonder someone hasn't stomped his ass out yet. He's especially harsh towards his own sisters even though they've been the one's who have been there for him. He may hate Frank but he's noticeably giving and extremely forgiving towards men, even those he's only known for a short while. Almost like the story about the turtle was just as much about him hoping that he could fix Frank as it was about Frank crushing his hopes of a real father figure.

Ian being groomed is in no way his fault and is the fault of the creeps who pursued him. But I can't ignore the fact that Frank's abuse and neglect opened him up the further abuse he suffered at the hands of Kash and Ned. It's no coincidence that both Kash and Ned shower Ian with gifts and compliments about how impressive, smart, and mature he is.

Debbie 1. deals with comphet in the first few seasons, and 2. Feels ignored by her family so she tries to create her own family. Debbie is visibly the one most affected by Frank's issues and even when she for all intents and purposes gives up on him, it still affects her. Frank's hurtful words about her only finding love with someone "just as fucked up as she is" pushes her to put consider a dangerous situation with Heidi. She's also someone who struggles with control issues because she needs to help other people. She's a problem solver by nature. It's just that the two problems she wishes she could solve more than anything are out of her hands (Frank and Monica). She can't fix Frank's addiction, his selfishness, or his abusive tendencies. She can't fix Monica's wanderlust, her avoidance, or her aversion to long-term commitment.

Carl is so good at masking his emotions. It's easy to miss. But then you notice things like his attachment to Fiona, his absolute devotion to the girls he likes, and his need to protect. Carl is hypersexual, even though I've seen it rarely brought up in fandom, and longs for a long-term girlfriend. When he does get girlfriends he's all in from the beginning. When Carl loves someone he is all about them. He's so casual when it comes to talking about Frank and Monica, but that doesn't mean those feelings aren't there and they aren't affecting him.

Liam is still young so we don't get to see him in a relationship. He's the one Gallagher who's consistently treated like an actual kid. Probably the one who has the best chance at healthy emotional attachments. But then again, Fiona leaving most likely did a number on him and we weren't privy to what that looks like for him because the latter seasons forgot how to do long-term storytelling and emotional payoff. All we know is that he doesn't remember Monica, Frank being gone makes him an orphan and he's worried about where he's gonna live because Lip forgot that Liam was technically under Frank's care. We didn't get to see it, but I'd say Liam's first emotional crash is probably on the horizon.

[lanadelnegan]

Hi there! This is my first time doing an ask so I hope I'm doing it correctly! If you want to, can you do dead city Negan x female reader who is traveling with Maggie and she and Maggie had been friends even before Glenn and she used to be in Rick's group and Negan really liked her in the later seasons but never did anything about it until he was traveling with her and Maggie and then they end up talking and having sex? If you don't want to do this, just ignore!

are you kidding me? YES. I've been wanting to do dead city negan so I am so excited for this one. Hope you love it. xx

Knock Knock

DeadCity!Negan x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, dead city season 1 spoilers, vaginal sex (riding), hot hot hot smut.

"Knock knock.... I said.. knock knock." I glance around the corner to see Negan bashing a man's head through the glass windows.

"Butter." He answers himself. ".... Butter who? Well you butter get out your umbrellas cause it is about to goddamn rain." I watch from a distance as he slices the man's throat and blood sprays down from the second floor down.

He throws the man over the railing before turning back towards Maggie and me. I lock eyes with him and I... think I finally get him.

"Move! Go!" He quickly leads the three of us away from the chaos. Although my brain switches to survival mode, I'm still somehow hyper aware of the fact that Negan's hand doesn't leave my lower back the entire time we're running.

I've always been physically attracted to Negan, although I'd never admit that to anyone, especially Maggie. I've known Maggie longer than anyone from our group and I love her like a sister... And I loved Glenn like a brother.

The day we met Negan, our lives changed forever. I told myself I'd never fall for anyone, because I couldn't allow myself to ever go through the pain I had to watch Maggie go through... That we all had to go through. I try not to get attached to many people because my biggest fear is losing the people I love.

I don't forgive Negan, but watching what he did earlier.. I think I understand who he is now. His charisma is his weapon. And it works.

"....... y/n ...... "Y/n?!" I snap my head towards Maggie's voice. "Why are you staring at him like that?!" She whispers angrily at me.

I look back at Negan sleeping on the mattress on the floor next to us. We managed to escape and found a small abandoned space to allow us to rest for a bit. We - well, I.. offered to let Negan sleep first since he's refused to shut his eyes once since we got here two days ago.

And as I sit here staring at him, I can't help but think.. he trusts us to look after things while he sleeps. We could slit his throat right now, but he.. trusts us. And we're seriously turning him in to the Croat? I'd do anything to get Hershel back and I don't blame Maggie for what she's doing. But.. tricking him seems.. wrong. He agreed to help because he wanted to.. because he cares.. and we're using him. My stomach aches at the thought.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Maggie snaps again.

I glance at her before staring at the floor in front of me. There's no point in explaining my thoughts to her. Nothing is going to stop her plan, and I don't even know if I want her to stop the plan. I want Hershel back too. I just wish there was another way that didn't involve.. hurting him.

"I don't know what your problem is, y/n. But you've barely said a word since yesterday. Get it together. Remember the plan... I'm going to search the building to see our exit options. Stay here and keep your eyes on him.. since you don't seem to have a problem doing that."

I ignore her attitude and continue staring at the floor as she walks past me, leaving me in the quiet room with Negan.

When the door click shuts, Negan lets out a loud sigh and my eyes widen at him. His eyes are still shut but he finally speaks. "She's right, ya know?"

I stare at him, waiting for him to explain what he means. "You have been weird since yesterday. What's on your mind, girl?"

"Why would I tell you?"

He turns his eyes towards me, still laying on his back with his hand resting behind his head.

"When are you gonna drop the act, y/n?"

"What act?"

"The one where you pretend you don't want my dick."

I scoff and lean forward. "You can't be serious. The only one here who knows how to put on a show.. is you."

"And how is that exactly?"

I think about his little performance earlier. ".... You pretend you're some scary badass so that people will be scared of you. You put on these little shows so people think you're crazy and end up giving in to you."

He just laughs. "I don't have to pretend to be a badass, darlin'."

I roll my eyes, annoyed that he missed the point.

He eyes me curiously. "And so what if I put on a show? It works, don't it?" His grin stretches wider.

"Yeah, you did a great job traumatizing our entire community. Congrats, Negan."

His smirk slowly fades and he sits up on the mattress, his back leaning against the wall behind him.

"Y/n, how many times do I have say I'm sorry? I live with the guilt every goddamn day. Isn't that punishment enough?"

I scoff. "You could get down on your knees and beg and it still wouldn't be enough."

His eyebrows raise playfully at my suggestion but I ignore him.

"Look, Negan. I'm probably the only one in our group that has any empathy towards you. And I'm not proud to admit that. But the times we live in.. I know that people have to do things in order to survive. Not that what you did was okay, but.. I.. I get it now."

He just nods acceptingly, so I get up, my ass numb from sitting on the hard floor. I grab a granola bar out of my backpack and go sit next to him on the mattress.

"I'm sitting here because my ass hurts, not because I want to be next to you." I explain before taking a bite out of my granola bar. I offer him the rest and he accepts it. We sit in silence for a moment before we look at each other.

I can't help but study his face, noticing the gray hairs spread throughout his beard. He has more wrinkles around his eyes than the "old Negan" and it gives him a softer look than before. For a moment I let myself imagine what it would be like to be with him and forget all the bad he's done.

"What are you thinking about right now?" He deep voice is barely above a whisper and I don't miss the way his eyes quickly dart to my mouth.

Before I give myself time come to my senses, I lean forward and press my lips to his. I can tell he's caught off guard but he eventually kisses me back, allowing my tongue to slide past his lips. I moan softly into his mouth before pulling back just enough to look at him and observe his reaction. His hazel brown eyes are blown with lust as he waits for my next move.

I know this is wrong but that somehow makes me want him more. I crash my lips against his again, kissing him harder this time. He turns his body more towards mine and brings his hand to the back of my neck to deepen our kiss.

Before I get too carried away, I stand up, walking to the door and shoving a couch in front of it just in case Maggie comes back soon.

Fuck... Maggie. Guilt washes over me and I stand still, contemplating what the fuck I'm doing with my life.

This is the apocalypse. People do bad things.. unforgiveable things. That's just the world we live in. I give myself a mental pep talk and take my shirt off before I can change my mind. I slide my pants down and kick them to the side before walking back over to Negan.

I stand over him as he sits with his back against the wall and his legs stretched out in front of him.

He pats his lap and smirks up at me. "Have a seat, darlin'."

I sit down, straddling his lap with my knees on either side of him on the mattress. His large, rough hands grip my hips and he looks up at me. My lips find their way back to his again and I bring my hands up, cupping his face as I allow myself to get lost in the taste of his mouth.

He groans softly and I feel him grow underneath me. I break the kiss to look down between us and notice the large bulge in his pants.

"Your dick better be as big as you act like it is." I warn him while unbuttoning his pants. His hands remain glued to my hips and he smirks up at me, like he wants to see my face when I see his dick for the first time.

I unzip his pants and pull out his fully erect cock. He's long, heavy and thick in my hand and my mouth slightly drops open at the sight of it.

"See, darlin'? It wasn't an act." I can't tear my eyes away from it long enough to see his proud grin stretched across his handsome face.

I'm pretty sure my cheeks are just as red as the tip right now. While I'm admiring him, I feel his hand reach for my ass and squeeze before he slowly slips his fingers underneath my panties from behind. The tip of his middle finger finds my already soaked opening and he pushes his finger in me, causing me to moan while he chuckles darkly.

His finger slides out of me before he brings it up to his mouth, sucking my juices off. "God, baby." He moans at the taste, rolling his eyes back in his head dramatically. "You taste fucking amazing."

I blush at the sight of him tasting me and lift myself up over him until he's at my entrance. His hands are back on my hips as he guides me, looking down between us. He watches himself disappear inside of me and groans with satisfaction.

"Fuuuuck, baby. Look. At. That."

I slowly slide down on him before stopping half way.

"Come on doll, you can take more than that." He encourages me.

I try to sit all the way down on him but it hurts too bad. I've never had something in me so deep and there's still a good three more inches to go. I shake my head, "Negan.. I can't. It's too big."

He laughs and bends his knees, his feet resting on the mattress now, before thrusting up into me without warning. I gasp at the sudden pain.

"Just had to break the barrier, baby." He smiles up at me and I almost slap him before I realize I'm now able to slide down on his length all the way to his balls. I feel every inch of him pressed tightly against my inner walls. My arms wrap around his shoulders as I rock myself back and forth, trying my best to make room for him, but he fills the space inside of me completely.

He groans from the sensation and bites down on the skin between my neck and shoulder. I'm too caught up in how good this feels to worry about him leaving a mark on me.

My pussy pulses at how good he feels in me and he must feel it because he lets out another satisfied groan.

"Fuck darlin', if you squeeze me any tighter I'm not gonna be able to control myself."

I lean back a little, my arms still holding onto him and look into his eyes. I adjust, allowing myself to easily bounce up and down on his cock now. He slams my hips down on him roughly with each bounce and the feeling of his tip pushing against my cervix over and over causes my face to flush red and the butterflies in my stomach to travel south. My mouth is dropped open slightly as I stare at him, unable to even form a sound. I'm not a virgin by any means, but this feels like nothing I've ever experienced in my life.

He stares back at me grinning like he can hear my thoughts. "Let me hear you, baby. How good does daddy make you feel?"

"So. Fucking. Good. Oh my goddd." I bounce on him faster and moan loudly.

"That's it, baby." He grunts out. "Such a good fucking girl."

"Negan.. I'm-" I can't even finish my sentence before my orgasm catapults me into another dimension. He watches my face closely as I come apart around him.

The sound of walkers suddenly appear behind the door and I hear Maggie coming down the hall, stabbing them one by one.

"Oh fuck." My eyes widen as I look at him. I try to jump off him but he slams me back down on him.

"No way baby, you're finishing what you started."

I panic when I hear her get closer. "Negan!" I whisper yell at him. "Fuck.. just.. cum in me!"

This time his eyes widen at me.

"We don't have time to clean up!" I explain. "Cum in me. Now."

He thrusts up into a couple more times before his hips halt and I feel his dick pulsing inside me over and over. His head is dropped back against the wall as he cums and I watch him bite his bottom lip to suppress his moans.

I quickly jump off him and set a world record with how fast I throw my clothes on. Negan shoves himself back in his pants and zips them up. I move the couch from the doorway and fling the door open, helping Maggie finish off the rest of the walkers.

She looks at me annoyed while she shoves past me. "What the hell took you so long to come help?!"

I follow Maggie back into the room. She finds Negan laying on his back again with his eyes shut, like he never moved an inch before eyeing me suspiciously. Warm liquid suddenly pools uncomfortably in my underwear and I shrug at her, biting back a grin at the sight of Negan "sleeping."

He really is a good actor.

This was so fun to write. Thank you for the request!!!

[seonghwaddict]

★ NEVER SAY NEVER. [ 001 ] over my dead body.

synopsis. something about the eight most well-known boys of your campus just didn't sit right with you, so you never gave any effort to interact with them. but after a series of... interesting incidents, they can't seem to leave you alone. pairing. college students! vampires! ot8! ateez x fem! reader. genre. fluff, angst, eventual smut, college au, vampire au. chapter warnings. suggestive comments, swearing, wooyoung being an annoying piece of shit. word count. 1.1k

　　　　　　　　chapter i // chapter ii

"The groups have already been decided and the list can be found on the bulletin outside. See you all next week." And with that, your professor walked out of the studio and left your classmates scrambling to get out of class and find the list.

All things considered, your day could have been worse. Yes, you'd gone to bed at 5 am and woken up at 7 to your housemate blasting music in the bathroom as she showered. Though, that was a daily occurrence, being mad over it just didn't make sense anymore. Yes, when you got into the shower and turned on the water without paying attention to the heat dial, you pretty much burned off your skin. Yes, on the way to the art department you had dropped one of the paintings you've been working on for over a month, getting mud all over the bottom half of the artwork.

But, nevertheless, it could've been a lot worse.

As you gathered the used paintbrushes next to your easel, you thought about who could be your partner for this collaborative project with the dance majors. Professor Yun just spent about ten minutes informing you and your peers that the art majors were to pair up with a dance major to create an artwork. The specifics—such as whether it'll be a painting or collage or other media—were completely up to the students.

You holstered your bag on your shoulder, finally leaving the art studio to see who you were paired with. Maybe it'll be Suncha, possibly the most beautiful girl you'd ever seen. You could definitely see yourself working with her. She moved with grace and would probably be the best subject you could ever wish for. Maybe Daehyun—you'd always found his face and body aesthetically pleasing.

The crowd in front of the bullet slowly dissipated and people found their partners in the crowd, already making conversation and talking about the project. With a slight sense of dread but a pinch of anticipation, you stepped up to the list and scanned it, quickly finding your name next to-

Oh you've got to be kidding me.

Nevermind, this was definitely one of the worst days you'd ever experienced. Because right next to your name, stood a name associated with one of the eight most sought-after men on your campus.

Jung Wooyoung.

They'd never done anything to you personally, but you just weren't a fan of the way they'd go from girl to girl without being ashamed or being called out. Granted, you weren't sure if all eight of them behaved like that (though this particular Jung Wooyoung did), you still disliked them (except for one of them, but you'd never admit that). Maybe it was how they were practically handed everything they needed at any given moment on a silver tray. Or how ridiculously good looking they were. Either way, something about them just felt... off.

An arm being slung over your shoulder broke you out of your thoughts of just ending your life right then and there. Without even looking at the person, you already had a suspicion of who it could be.

"Hey there, partner," He stepped in front of you, hand lingering on your shoulder for a second longer than you'd like. A mischievous smile graced his features, "I don't think I've ever talked to you. What's your name, pretty?"

"It's on the paper right behind you." You deadpanned, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

For a second, Wooyoung's eyes hardened before that playful glint returned. "I know, but I'd like to hear you say it. After all, I don't want to be pronouncing it wrong."

With a sigh, you gave him your name and he repeated it, testing the sound of it on his tongue. Seemingly satisfied, he returned to your side with a hum and once again slung his arm over your shoulders, steering you toward the exit of the arts department and practically dragging you with him.

Along the way, you passed multiple clusters of girls and boys, some of them watching Wooyoung with admiration and lust in their eyes while others simply glared at you out of jealousy. Feeling their stares, your head turned to the ground and you screwed your eyes shut, wishing it was Daehyun dragging you. Not this painfully pretty, charming man that you couldn't stand.

"So," Wooyoung started—though he never really stopped talking, "I was thinking, if you don't have any courses or stuff for the rest of the day, you can come over to my place and we can start working on whatever it is we have to do."

"I told my roommate I'd be back early to clean our apartment."

"Oh, then I can come with you, help you and then you can come to my place."

"Why not just do it at my place?"

"That's fine, too. Maybe you can show me to your bedroom?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and you had to hold back the urge to smack him right then and there.

"Over my dead body."

"Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not really into necrophilia."

It was then that you noticed you were walking towards the campus' parking lot. You stopped in your tracks and waited for Wooyoung to turn.

"Ok, first of all, what the fuck. But I guess I'm glad that's not your thing. Second, what are you doing? Where are you taking me?"

He blinked. Once, twice. "I'm taking you to my car...?"

"Why?"

"To take you to my place so we can work?" He looked behind him and then back to you, his dark hair bouncing around and revealing the bleached layers underneath.

"But I have stuff to do." You crossed your arms over your chest, shifting your weight to your right leg as you looked up at him. He wasn't that much taller, but because of his proximity, it was hard to look him in the eyes without craning your neck just a bit.

A chuckle (though it sounded more like a giggle) escaped him. "The dishes and vacuum can wait. I'm only available for the next two hours, after that you're free to do whatever you want."

You took a second to mull things over before dropping your head and groaning. "Fine but–"

"Great!" Wooyoung grabbed your hand and resumed pulling you across the parking lot. "Let's get going, maybe the food Seonghwa-hyung made will still be warm when we get there and–"

"Wait!" You tugged on the hand that held yours harshly, making him stop to look back at you with a raised brow. "But... no funny business. Please."

He let out another high pitched laugh. "Oh, YN, my dearest darling YN, I don't plan on doing anything like that with you. Today, at least. Though if you'd like-"

"No!" You extended a hand to stop him from finishing that sentence, cheeks blushing dark crimson. "Please just- just lead the way."

That specific mischievous grin returned to his face as he whipped around and practically skipped to his black Mercedes with tinted windows. You didn't stop to appreciate the car, getting into the passengers seat and strapping the seatbelt on.

　　[ lilo's notes ... ] hope you guys enjoyed this first chapter!! any guess as to who the ateez member is that YN likes more than the others? hint: it's not wooyoung. also, i'm basing each of the mebers' looks off of different eras. in case you couldn't tell, we will be dealing with oreo wooyoung here.

　　ଘ(੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ taglist ... @atinytinaa @marievllr-abg @legohwas @moonsangie @kiss-hwa @cqndiedcherries @ateezourstars @r1kitti @sarahleighflora @kyukyustar

　　NEVER SAY NEVER　©　seonghwaddict, 2023

[cerastes]

I'd like a little more insight into your opinions about that post you reblogged, which stated that "families are the biggest danger to children".

That post did not include a proposed solution, and I would like to know if you have a solution in mind.

I don't see how it doesn't involve giving the police greater leeway to invade the privacy of homes. Or otherwise putting childcare in the hands of government workers who don't live with the children. Government workers who either never had children and have no idea what it is like, or who do have children and should be spending that time minding their own.

You’re kind of self-reporting when your first and seeming only thought on the matter is “This necessarily means giving police or government more power” and not “the dynamics of power between adults and children are so immensely messed up and the concept of protecting children has been warped into a puritan shield towards any cause except actually protecting children”. That post you’re referring to is not in the slightest a hard read, anon. I’d say it’s pretty darn explicit and clear in its intent, in fact.

If you look up kidnappings, the majority happen between family members. If you ask any child therapist worth their moral salt what it’s like practicing their craft, they’ll tell you that the vast majority of the time it’s mainly grounding work with the child and actual psychological work with their parents, who are the actual reason behind the issues with the kid most of the time.

Most if not all cultures are just not at all kind with children. The most immediate people to a child — often their family — are either their greatest protectors or their biggest threat. Sometimes, it’s both simultaneously, and this isn’t some fake deep philosophical nonsense, either; a lot of times, a parent or the parents might genuinely wish the best for the kid, and yet, they are horribly abusive in ways they don’t even clock as abuse or as treating the child as mere property that they get to order around. Even when that is “for their own good”.

Forgive me if I sound outright insulting here, but if you didn’t even grasp this before wanting to have this conversation, are you at all equipped to have this conversation? This is not even getting to the puritan shield part, just the part where family as both a boon and a threat is concerned.

I’ll also have you know that conversation around and about a problem can exist without offering solutions and merely acknowledging it as a problem. This is known as a “conversation”. Demanding solutions in your conversations necessarily is how you get bad ideas and fringe, often extremist answers.

[kanmom51]

Missing Jikook today

Not that I don't miss them every single day, but just saying...

@wonsummernight Miss your edits!!!!!! I know there isn't any new Jikook content just yet, but if there was a time we were in dire need for some heart wrenching Jikook edits, this is it!!!

Basically, this is me telling you "PLEASE COME BACK". 💜💜

So, I came today to cry a little, you know commiserating together with others takes the edge off a bit (note to self: keep telling yourself that, and you might start believing it too...), but also to remind y'all that SM is crap, a viper pit, a cec pool, where all the miserably unhappy ignorant assholes tend to flock to (this is about the assholes that have turned sm into such a place), either to create drama that will get them some much needed attention they aren't getting elsewhere, or to create a parallel universe where their dreams and wants come true, even if they have zero standing in reality. Oh, and I forgot those that are there to make some hard cash, by all means.

And why am I mentioning all of this, you may ask?

Well, because for some reason my hopes and dreams for a fandom cleanse are being shattered as we speak.

As you may already know, I've taken a step back lately. mainly distancing myself from SM, as it's been going downhill for ages now, but has become an even uglier place to visit in the past few months, I'd say ever since it's been known that JK and JM are enlisting TOGETHER and will be serving TOGETHER, basically being in each other's close vicinity 24/7 for 18 months (even if not sharing exact same duties within the unit) and spending off time together . And to clarify once again: Same unit, same posting (base), different duties within the unit.

You'd think that 3 months in, and after the initial shock, reality and truth would set in (even with the most delusional) that these two young men CHOSE to enlist together (free choice and steps taken by both of them to achieve this). And once again me reminding they are the only ones in the group to decide they want to do this and the only idols to ever do so.

But no. Who am I kidding? Probably wishful thinking on my part. You know, that these people will either wake up, smell the roses and just cope with reality, or plain and simply piss off (that's probably me being delusional at this point).

Point being, it's gotten even worse. Like who would have believed that would happen? Yeah, probably should have seen it coming though. When you have cult behavior, when you have those that profit off it (monetarily or otherwise), I should have known it would go this way. The need to dive even deeper into the filth of this earth, to create even dumber narratives, to, of course, spew even more hate towards either of them (depending what delusional team you are on).

Should have seen it all coming.

Sadly, instead of just leaving, tail between their legs, they are doubling down on their utterly delusional beliefs regarding these young men. Not without pain, I may add. Pain, that a small part of me, someone that tries very hard to be nice and good and positive, is now relishing (I lie... not that mall of a part after all). Their twists and turns, their made up shit to compensate for whatever shit JK, JM or Tae are throwing their way... kind of priceless. I mean, if they aren't going anywhere, should we not at least enjoy their demise?

Does that make me a bad person?

Honestly, I don't think so.

And Jikook being away from most of this, lighting the fire and walking away leaving their haters behind to burn, was a nice touch.

Now we just sit here silently wait for our little travel show...

💜💜

[aimbutmiss]

It makes me so sad how Buggy isolated himself from everyone in his life, the whole world even, for so long. He kept to himself on a small corner of the East Blue for years, hiding the fact he was ever a part of Roger's crew. And honestly, if the government didn't leak that information at Marineford, Buggy would have probably just kept hiding it. He never reached out to Shanks or Rayleigh or anyone, because he just didn't think they'd want to hear from him. His whole "it's me and myself against the world" mentality is heartbreaking. He is so stubborn. Stubborn enough to keep it up for more than twenty years at least. And nobody reached out to him because no one knew where he was or what he was up to, or if he was even alive.

Now imagine the conversation that took place when Shanks ran into Rayleigh. The man probably asked him about Buggy, and Shanks couldn't give an answer because he hadn't seen him in years. How sad Rayleigh must have been to hear that come from Shanks' own mouth. I wonder if he felt any regret over not being there at Loguetown during Roger's execution. Maybe his kids wouldn't have ended up like this if he had been there for them. But at least Shanks seemed to be doing okay for himself, even though he looked like a sad kid in front of him at the mention of his best friend.

Also if you think Buggy was just hiding because he was scared of being targeted, and that he was happy and safe in the East Blue, you'd be right. Of course that's part of it. But I also like to think it's deeper than that. He left his past behind, completely detaching himself from his previous identity, coming up with the "Buggy the Clown" persona... I think he didn't want to be known for his past. He wanted to start fresh, make a name for himself on his own. And maybe Shanks did know where he was, spending a year in the East Blue himself, but respected Buggy's wishes.

And of course Buggy would market himself after the word is out. Since so many people already found out, might as well take advantage of it, right? Buggy is greedy, and he doesn't try to hide it. Just because he didn't want people to know about his relation to Roger doesn't mean that once it was out there he wouldn't capitalize on it. If what's done is done, might as well get something out of it.

Now that everyone knows, the only thing holding Shanks and Buggy back from reaching out is their roles as enemies, and the fact they're both busy with their own plans and goals. But after everything's over, and Luffy becomes the pirate king, I'd like to think the first thing they'd want to do would be to reach out to one another. Because they're finally free. Free of expectations, ideals to follow, roles to play, goals to chase ... They can be the same old Shanks and Buggy again, not the emperors Red Haired Shanks and Buggy the Clown. (There's also something beautiful about Luffy being the one giving them back their freedom.)

[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

if we lived on the moon.

Not for the first time, Steve Harrington wishes he lived anywhere but Hawkins, Indiana.

He spots Eddie walking toward him down the grocery store aisle where he’s been waiting for him, shifting a can of baked beans from one hand to the other, dimples on full display. 

“Got ‘em! Found the last can, they were shoved all the way to the back of the shelf, can you believe it? Had to reach all the way back.” Eddie stops short where Steve stands with his hands on the shopping cart handle. His eyes raise from the can in his hands to Steve’s face, smile widening. “I can’t wait to make you Wayne’s famous wieners and beans. It was all I would eat when I first moved in with him.” Eddie’s eyes sparkle while he talks, remembering, gaze still on Steve as he leans down to place the can in the bottom of the cart. His smile softens and Steve is transfixed, frozen in place, nearly breathless. “Guess it reminded me of my mom,” he finishes in a near-whisper. It makes Steve wish he’d known him when they were kids, that they’d grown up together and seen each other in every moment of their lives.

As Eddie leans back up out of the cart, a lock of hair falls across his face. Steve’s hand itches to reach out and tuck it behind his ear for him. He glances around, covertly and quickly. Finding their aisle empty, he gives in to his impulse and allows his fingers to brush Eddie’s hair away from his eyes for him before dropping it back onto the cart handle. Eddie blushes, just a little, and brings his own hand up to pull that same hair in front of his face, suddenly bashful. 

Maybe it isn’t any where he wants to be. Maybe it’s an any when. Maybe in a year—or two or three or ten—he can touch his boyfriend’s hair without looking over his shoulder to be sure there’s no one watching. Maybe in a year—or two or three or ten—he can grocery shop holding Eddie’s hand and no one will say anything at all. Maybe in ten years, he’ll be allowed to kiss Eddie right in the center of Hawkins where anyone could see them and no one would even care. Maybe then they’ll be allowed to have their date nights at the diner like everyone else, instead of tucked away in the trailer with mismatched candlesticks for a centerpiece and the radio playing their well-worn mixtapes, the ones Steve knows by heart. Maybe it’s just a matter of waiting it out. Maybe then—if he believes in this bright, beautiful future when—he won’t be forced to leave everything behind just to be allowed to love Eddie out in the open, where everyone could see. 

They turn to leave the aisle, finished with their shopping, but before they exit the deserted space completely, Steve feels the brush of Eddie’s knuckles against his own as he pushes the cart in front of him, like a butterfly: there suddenly, gentle and then gone.

He has to believe in anywhere and any when.

"i'd hold your hand if we lived on the moon, walking down the avenue. we'd never think twice about who we'd offend and we'd never say we're just friends. no, we'd never say we're just friends. all that i know is i want you forever and nothing like this could be wrong. if people on earth think that they know us better than we do, then i'll live on the moon with you."

is this anything? i obviously didn't know how to end it lol. i'm having big gay sad feelings tonight about homophobia. i rarely write in a universe where homophobia exists, because these are my barbies and i'm the god of this gay little world, but i'm extra sad today. hope you enjoyed this or something. idk. who are ur fave openly gay musicians? i like boygenius, muna, fletcher, etc. trying to get away from u know who, give me recs!!!! ok bye.