#i've never made anything like this. i feel so cool and accomplished

[zivazivc]

Say hello to my bug eyed baby boy 🐛👀👶

He was in an egg since September but about a week ago he finally hatched! 😊😅 jk jk but it did take me this long to finish this plushie of baby Leslie that I can hold close and snuggle. 🥰🧡

In the last few days I took him out with me so he could explore the woods for the first time, and so I could take some photos of him for you guys (and me lol).

No I could not trim this photo set even more, do you have any idea how many photos I took?? and he's precious in all of them. 🥺

I don't have a sewing machine or any other special equipment so he's entirely handmade with a pattern I made myself by trial and error, but I did use two of my plush toys as reference to study how they're stitched together.

I was pretty limited with my material choice because I had to find everything in Leslie's colors or at least the closest I could get to his colors, and I've realized that they're not very popular colors. His hair sadly ended up being the most off, but I'm still happy with it.

His body is something like sweatshirt fleece but the fabric being turned the wrong way so that the soft fuzzy side is on the outside. But I had no luck trying to find sherpa fleece fabric that would fit his coat colors so his fur is all embroidered using a stitch called turkey work.

And his lil pickle dreads are made with the same technique as friendship bracelets, just that they loop around. I've made so many friendship bracelets in my time that this wasn't hard to figure out how to do lol. And in the end I also sewed shiny pearls onto them to act as sparkles, since I'm not a fan of glitter or sequins. 😅

And lastly his hair is made out of genuine hand dyed sheep locks! Wondering how to tackle the hair gave me the most trouble. I was thinking of sewing it together out of fabric, or tying together fluffy yarn in the style of macramé and other ideas I can't recall anymore, but either the idea didn't sound good enough or I wasn't able to find the right material to try to pull it off. In the end I stumbled on sheep locks kind of on accident while browsing etsy and the idea was just too tempting. They're the only part of him that I ordered online and I was really worried it wasn't going to be what I needed, or that I won't like the color once I see it irl, won't like the feel, etc. But I'm super happy with how it came out in the end. Yes it's much lighter in color and now he's curly, but I think it really suits him, and it feels soft like actual hair. 🥰

Some details from up close:

[roosterforme]

In the Line of Duty | Rooster x Reader

Summary: During preparations for a dangerous mission, Bradley finds comfort in writing his thoughts down for his unborn child to eventually read. There's always a chance that he won't make it back, and his final plans involve safeguarding the most important item he brought on his deployment with him.

Warnings: Angst, deployment, pregnancy topics

Length: 2800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Bradley was in the same tiny room with the same seven people for the nineteenth day in a row. He was sweating, too aware of his surroundings. He could hear Reuben breathing next to him. He could hear Admiral Turner's wristwatch counting off every second. He could hear the plans being laid out, but he could barely focus on them.

"The political climate is rapidly changing," the admiral said. "This bombing run is essential, however it will undoubtedly lead to a hostile environment for our allies. Getting the timing just right is essential to a successful mission."

He'd been telling the aviators the same things for days, and while Bradley knew somebody's best interest was at heart, he wasn't really sure it was his. Or Reuben's. Or anybody's in this fucking claustrophobic room. But what choice did he have but to sit here in his flight suit, reeking of jet fuel until he was released?

"Also," Admiral Turner said, his voice laced with exhaustion, "we'll be keeping a close watch on the weather. If you fly this mission, it's going to be a rough takeoff and an even rougher landing. And that's not even mentioning the elements you'll encounter in the air."

Bradley could feel it. The aircraft carrier was a massive vessel, nothing like a cruise ship or anything smaller. It was built to withstand typhoons and hurricanes, but he could still feel it. The movement was getting worse by the hour now. There were deckhands and petty officers walking around with seasickness bags. People were running from the mess hall left and right. The only thing that could be said of this small group of aviators in this tiny ass room was that professional fighter pilots had all traces of motion sickness eliminated from their bodies during flight training, never to be heard from again. He wasn't uncomfortable, but he could still feel it.

"And with that final precaution, I've made my selection for the three pilots who will fly when I say it's time to go." Bradley knew it in his bones even before he heard the admiral say, "Vandal. Patches. Rooster. Everyone else will remain on standby. You're all dismissed."

As he stood, Reuben stuck his fist out. "Congrats, man," he said, and Bradley reached out as well to bump fists. Being chosen was an accomplishment; Bradley always wanted to be chosen. He always wanted to perform to the best of his ability. But his thoughts were so heavy now, filled with new hopes and fears. 

"Thanks, Payback," he replied, following his friend from the room and into the noisy reprieve of the cool hallway. There were people rushing around as the two of them made their way to the mess hall. "But if I have to sit in that room for another day, I'm going to lose my mind."

Reuben laughed as he started to load a tray with food. "I love how the weather is too bad for us to do any training runs, but in the same sentence, we're told to be ready to fly a mission in this. It's like they're steering us right into the worst of the storm."

They were. Bradley could tell they were. There was something strategic about the open water location, but they were absolutely heading into the worst of it. He just hoped it would clear up before he was called out on deck to fly. 

"It's a good thing I haven't barfed in a Super Hornet since that very first time," he said, also piling food that he knew would taste like cardboard onto a plate.

"This shit sucks," Reuben muttered, biting into a roll once they reached an empty table. "We got any more of your wife's cookies back in the bunk?"

Bradley smiled as he looked at the questionable meal in front of him. "A few." He bit into the steak and grimaced. Everything you cooked at home was better than this. He'd trade his whole plate of food right now for half of a grilled cheese sandwich made by your hands. Just thinking about it had his stomach growling louder. "You already ate most of them."

Reuben popped another roll into his mouth and chewed it up before saying, "Rooster, you've got a hot lieutenant commander who can cook for a wife. And a baby on the way. Come on, man. The least you can do is spare some more of those cookies."

Once he let his thoughts drift, Bradley knew it would take hours to get focused on his job again, but he couldn't help it. When he left home, you looked the same as you always did. You'd been complaining about your weight gain and bloating for weeks, but you looked just perfect to him. He wanted to get back home to see if you had a bump yet. He wanted to get home and talk to the Nugget. But he'd already been gone for three weeks, and he hadn't been given a single chance to call or FaceTime with you. 

He hated having no idea how your most recent doctor's appointment went. There were probably new ultrasound photos sitting right on the kitchen counter, but it could be weeks before he got to see how much the Nugget grew since last time. He should be a home, catering to your every whim and building the massive jungle gym for the backyard.

"Are you excited?" Reuben asked, breaking through his thoughts. "You've got what, like five more months to go before you're a dad?"

"One hundred and eighty-six days until the due date," Bradley replied with a grin. "And yeah, I'm pretty fucking excited. It's all I can think about." He tried to finish all of the food, but he set his plate aside and said, "Let's go eat some of those cookies."

An hour later, Bradley was sitting in his bunk, nibbling on the rationed baked goods while Reuben snored across the room. He took this opportunity to get out the pink and blue striped notebook which he affectionately referred to as the Nugget notebook. He'd filled half of it with his musings, and he figured it would be full by your due date. It was silly, just his random thoughts and some sporadic story telling, but he liked the idea of his kid having all of this to look at later. He uncapped his pen, jotted down the date, and started writing what was on his mind. 

You'll never guess where I am right now. No really. It would be impossible, because even I don't really know where I am! But it's somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, I know that for sure. And while I'm really, really far away from you and your mom right now, the two of you are all I can think about....

-------------------------

The weather was so bad a few days later that the gym was closed. Bradley and Reuben stood in front of the locked door in their gym clothes looking at each other. 

"This is fucking wild," Bradley muttered, deprived of the only activity he could think of to keep himself busy. The hallways were pretty empty at this time of night, but everything still felt more deserted than usual. The dining menus had been pared down, presumably because half of the kitchen staff was too seasick to make everything. He was starting to feel anxious. "Let's go workout in the bunk and then finish the cookies."

"Sounds good," Reuben replied. They took turns churning out sets of fifty push ups while the other ate a cookie. They did this until they were both sweating and all of the cookies were officially gone.

"Now what the fuck are we supposed to do?" Bradley asked, but any response was cut off by a knocking on the door. He jumped up, glanced at Reuben, and then opened the door for a petty officer. 

"Bradshaw?"

"Yeah?"

"You requested a FaceTime call? Report to the lounge in thirty minutes."

"Thanks," he said, heart beating wildly as he closed the door. He rushed around the room, grinning and grabbing everything he'd need to take a quick shower.

Reuben just laughed and said, "Please thank her again for the cookies."

"Will do," Bradley replied, making a mad dash for the showers. If he did the math correctly, he figured it was between four and five o'clock in the morning back home in San Diego. He hated calling you in the middle of the night, especially when you were pregnant and exhausted, but he knew you'd forgive him. And he desperately needed to see your face and hear your voice.

His hair was still damp when he jogged along the quiet corridors toward the lounge and took a seat in front of one of the computers. He quickly entered his credentials followed by your phone number, and then he waited and waited. "Shit," he muttered, gripping the edge of the table, afraid the call was going to ring through and then cut off. But then he heard you screech his name and saw you as you reached for your glasses while the light from the lamp on your nightstand illuminated your face. 

"Bradley!" you practically screamed again, your voice scratchy from sleep. "Roo! Are you okay?"

"Hey, Baby Girl," he said, feeling calmer than he had in weeks as you juggled your phone around and tried to sit up fully in bed. "I'm fine. Sorry it's so late."

"No, no, no, this is perfect!" you insisted, rubbing your eye behind your glasses as you tried to stifle a yawn. "This is great."

Bradley laughed and said, "I miss you so fucking much. Wish I was in bed right there with you."

"Me too," you insisted, and he could see the sincerity on your face. "It got chilly here tonight, and Tramp isn't as snuggly as you are."

He wanted to kiss you. He wished he could somehow dive through the screen and end up next to you where you'd pull him right into your arms. His voice was just a whisper as he said, "Tell me about the Nugget."

Your smile was soft, and you bit your lip. "Dr. Morris said the Nugget looked great when I was there two weeks ago."

"Two weeks ago," he groaned, rubbing his rough hands along his face. "Sweetheart... I already missed so much." When he looked at the screen again, you were out of bed and on the move. "Where are you going?"

You flipped on the hallway light and said, "To get the ultrasounds to show you. I left them on the kitchen counter."

The fact that he knew that's where they would be made him smile. When you propped your phone up next to the stove and turned on the light, he felt tears stinging his eyes. You held up one of the photos so he could see the baby, and he had to blink past his blurry vision. "There's my Nugget," he said, voice thick with emotion as you held up a second image. "Fucking cutest baby I've ever seen."

Your laughter sounded beautiful as you showed him a third one. "I liked this one the best. I think it looks like the baby is waving hello."

"Shit," he gasped. "You're right. I can't wait to wallpaper our bedroom with copies of these."

You pulled the baby picture away, and he could see your face again as you said, "You're probably not even joking."

"I'm definitely not even joking."

You leaned on the counter and got a little closer to your phone as you said, "Another week or so, and I can go in for an anatomy scan."

Now Bradley felt like crying for a totally different reason. "You get to find out if the Nugget is a boy or a girl."

"Yeah," you said with a nod. "But I don't really want to do that without you there too."

Bradley looked at your beautiful face and the perfect curve of your cheek. He imagined a little baby in your arms with the same flawless features. "I wish I could get home in time to hold your hand and find out in person. But you know I don't care one way or the other. The only nice thing is that we can start narrowing down baby names soon. I actually wrote down a few that I kind of like in the Nugget notebook earlier."

Your smile was brilliant as you told him, "I can't wait to read all of your notebook entries. And if you're not home for my next appointment, I'll be practically vibrating with anticipation until I get to tell you if it's a boy Nugget or a girl Nugget."

Bradley opened his mouth to say he couldn't wait to come home and spend a full day curled up with both of you. He was about to ask you to pull his UVA shirt up and let him see what your belly looked like now. But the lounge door swung open so hard, it sounded like it was going to fall off the hinges.

"Bradshaw!" barked Admiral Turner. "It's time. Get into your flight suit."

"Yes, Sir," he said before glancing back down to see your face as you started to cry.

"You have to go," you sobbed.

"I do," he said quickly. "Right now. Listen, I love you. More than anything. You and the baby both, okay? I love you."

"I love you, too," you sobbed as your lips trembled. "So much."

"I'll be home soon," he promised, even though he knew he couldn't guarantee anything of the sort. "I love you."

After he ended the call, he ran back to the bunk where Reuben was already in his flight suit and pulling on his boots. It was late enough now that it had to be dark outside, so he was either about to fly another mission without the use of one of his senses, or they were sending him out at first light. Either way, he knew what he had to do, so he pulled his own flight suit on with shaky hands.

The call with you had calmed his nerves right up until the point when he had to abruptly end it. What he wouldn't give to be back home within a week. He'd drive you to the appointment in his Bronco and hold your hand the whole time. Dr. Morris would let you know if he was going to be the dad to a daughter or a son. His little Nugget.

"You ready?" Reuben asked as Bradley finished lacing up his boots. 

He looked up at his friend as he stood. "Actually, no," he said, pulling his duffle out from under his bed. He started rooting through it as he said, "I need you to potentially do me a favor."

"Sure," Reuben replied, "but we gotta get to the meeting room now, Rooster."

"I know," he mumbled in response as his hands connected with the most important thing he had with him. He held up the pink and blue notebook, his voice calm in spite of his nerves as he said, "Just real quick, you see this? I need you to take this back to my wife if anything happens to me."

His friend was silent for a beat before he said, "Alright. I can do that."

Bradley's fingers tightened around the spiral binding holding together all of his thoughts about fatherhood and how much he loved his unborn child. And now his voice shook a bit as he said, "This is very important to me."

Reuben nodded and said, "Understood. I promise I'll take care of it if the need arises."

"Thank you." Bradley kissed the striped cover and propped the notebook up against his pillow, giving it one last look before he followed Reuben from the bunk.

At first light, Bradley made his way out onto the carrier deck through the rain and whistling wind. The mission was on. The weather was miserable, but the plethora of Naval officers deemed this the best opportunity they were going to get to help their allies. 

It was time. Time for Bradley to trust himself. And if he failed, he trusted Reuben to take the notebook back to San Diego and get it into the hands of his wife. Then you'd take care of the notebook for the Nugget. Because if there was one person who was never going to let him down, it was you.

-------------------------

I can't deal with how much I've been hurting my own feelings with these two. Should we start a new series? Would that be okay? A tragic, new series? Thank you for reading about and loving them! Please stay tuned. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

[tikosblogg]

The Scars We Bare….❤️

Summary: After a traumatic accident leaving your body scarred for life, Noah makes it his mission to remind you of your worth.

Warning: piv sex, unprotected sex(don’t do that), slight choking. Body worship?, mentions of blood, fighting. Let me know if I forgot anything.

A/N: This is a little heavier than I usually write about, but I thought it was so sweet. I’m sorry if it’s trash, I wrote this while watching Summer slam🤪

The energy inside our house was insane, the house pulsing with the music and the laughter of friends. the ambiance was alive—a perfect backdrop to celebrate the end of their successful tour. I had always been the glue that held this ragtag bunch together. Growing up alongside Noah, and the guys meant our lives were intertwined in a way that made this party feel like a reunion of sorts, no matter how long we’ve lived together or how often we saw each other while they are on the road.

As I mingled among partygoers, I felt an undeniable sense of pride for these guys who had worked so hard, now basking in the glow of their accomplishments. But tonight wasn’t just about them; it was about me too. I had hopes of taking my relationship with Brent to the next level.

Brent is the first relationship I’ve had since my accident 4 years ago. We have been seeing one another for about a month, and in my gut, I felt tonight could be the night we solidified what we both wanted. Nobody has seen my body since that traumatic day, except for Noah. My family lives out of state, so as soon as I was released from the hospital Noah moved me in here.

He was my rock during the whole ordeal and helped me heal. Our friendship is a special one, that I hold dearly in my heart. He bathed me, cooked for me, cleaned the cuts and incisions on my body everyday. He was the shoulder I cried on, about my insecurities of my forever changed body. Always reminding me that I was beautiful. He has helped more than I think he realizes.

Excusing myself from a lively conversation with Noah and Jolly, I slipped outside to check on Brent. The cool air hit my skin, refreshing yet a little uneasy. I dialed his number, only to be met with an annoyance I couldn’t quite place. "I've been here for the past 45 minutes," he huffed, the edge in his voice making me flinch.

My stomach twisted as he gave me his location. I ended the call, worry gnawing at the edges of my mind. What had gone wrong? He’s never sounded so annoyed with me. I shook it off and decided to find him, determined not to let it ruin our night.

When I finally spotted him, leaning against the wall of the house with his arms crossed and an unimpressed look on his face, my heart sank. Why did he look so displeased? I swept in for a hug, wrapping my arms around his body, hoping to draw out a little warmth. He hesitated for just a moment before returning the embrace, but the spark I had anticipated was absent.

"Hey! Glad you made it," I chirped, forcing a smile even as a twinge of frustration bubbled within me. He didn't reply, only allowed me to grab his hand and lead him inside.

As we entered, I could feel the vibrant energy shift slightly. The laughter and chatter continued, but the warmth of the party felt overshadowed by the tension emanating from Brent. I introduced him to the guys Noah, Jolly, Folio, and Nick—all of whom were mingling and laughing, filling the air with their unique energy. However, I noticed something peculiar: the way the guys eyed Brent, especially Noah. There was a hint of concern in his gaze, the kind that screamed, I’m onto you.

Ignoring the unspoken judgment from my friends, I pulled Brent closer, trying to ignite that spark between us. We stood there, surrounded by music and laughter, yet he seemed distant, his smile faltering as the guys began to chatter amongst themselves.

“Everything alright?” I whispered, leaning closer to him. I wanted an opening, a doorway into whatever was bothering him. But he merely shrugged, his gaze wandering, refusing to engage. I softly grasped Brent’s hand, politely excusing us from the group. I led him through the crowd of party goers, and up the stairs to my room.

As I closed the door behind us, the thumping bass of the party dwindled into a distant murmur, the laughter of friends fading away as I turned to Brent. The vibrant energy of the gathering felt worlds away, and the four walls of my bedroom suddenly wrapped around us like a protective barrier.

“Brent,” I started, my voice wavering slightly. “I’m really sorry if I overwhelmed you back there. I just wanted you to meet my friends. They’re like family to me.” I stepped closer, finding comfort in the small space between us. “I like how you’re different from everyone else,” I reassured him, reaching to cup his face. “I want you with me, Brent. I really like you, and I was hoping tonight could be something more.”

At last, he looked up, a smirk playing on his lips as he wasted no more time, and leaned in and captured my mouth with his. The kiss ignited something deep inside me; I melted into him, the world beyond my bedroom eclipsed in a frenzy of sensation. But then, as he pushed me down onto the bed, his body pressing into mine, I felt a rush of vulnerability sweep over me.

His lips were a warm trail, moving from my mouth and down the length of my neck. Nervousness coiled in my stomach, mingling with the thrill of it all. What if he hates the scars? But I shushed that voice; if Brent liked me, he would accept all of me, flaws and histories included.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes dark with desire, he removed his shirt, revealing his toned body. I felt my pulse quicken. The intimacy of the moment escalated as he reached for mine. But then, as the fabric glided off my skin, a sudden silence enveloped us. Brent froze, his expression shifting from desire to something unreadable as his eyes traced the long scar running down my chest, then mapping the smaller scars scattered along my ribs and stomach.

“Are you okay?” I paused, my heart pounding painfully against my rib cage as I reached up, uncertain and vulnerable.

The moment hung heavy in the air; he shook his head vehemently, climbing off me so quickly that the sudden loss of his warmth sent a chill racing down my spine. I sat up, confusion flooding my senses. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

Brent stood there, the remnants of our intimacy dissolving between us. He tugged his shirt back on, the fabric crumpling around his torso, and ran a hand through his hair, the gesture laced with frustration. “Why do you have scars all over you?” His voice was low, a mix of concern and discomfort.

As the words spilled from my lips, the weight of the memory resurfaced. “I was in a bad car crash four years ago. I had to have open heart surgery,” I explained, trying to keep my tone steady. I watched the color drain from his face, his brows knitting together in discomfort.

A long sigh escaped him, heavy and laden with an emotion I couldn’t quite decipher. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “But that’s...bad. I didn’t expect…” He trailed off, shaking his head again as if trying to clear it.

“It makes me feel… kind of squeamish to touch them” he admitted, his eyes glancing away, avoiding the testament of my past etched upon my skin.

My heart plummeted, the weight of rejection crashing down upon me like a tidal wave. I had let the hope and excitement build, only for it to crumble in an instant under the realization that my trauma had repelled him.

“I think we should just end it here. sorry,” he added, almost mechanically, before turning to leave the room. The sound of the party resumed its vibrancy, a stark reminder of the dissonance between our worlds.

I watched him walk out, feeling an emptiness settle into my chest. The door slammed behind him, and I sank back into the bed, wrapping my arms around myself as if trying to shield those scars from the world. Noah, My friends, my family—they had embraced me, scars and all. Why couldn’t Brent?

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on me. My thoughts spiraled, wondering if my scars were always going to be a barrier, a reminder of a past I couldn’t erase. The party continued downstairs, but all I felt was the silence of my room enveloping me, a somber echo of what had just transpired.

I finally stood from my bed, my body shaking with each sob leaving my mouth. I walked straight into my bathroom, insistent on washing his touch, and this night from my tattered body.

Noah stood with Jolly and Nick, their voices a distant murmur, but his attention had drifted. His eyes were locked on the staircase that you’d just walked up with Brent. There was something about Brent—a way he carried himself, a cocky swagger that made his skin crawl. He didn’t like the guy, not one bit.

Fifteen minutes later, Noah’s unease was proven justified. Brent stomped down the stairs, his expression unfazed and arrogant. He brushed past Noah and the others, heading straight for the kitchen. Noah tilted his head, a knot tightening in his stomach. Where were you? He silently decided to confront Brent.

As he stepped into the kitchen, Noah maneuvered himself silently, standing a few steps behind Brent’s shorter stature. He was leaning against the counter, deep in conversation with some random dude whose name Noah didn’t care to know. Eavesdropping came naturally to him; he would justify anything if it meant looking out for you.

His heart raced when Brent’s laughter cut through the air. “Yeah, I was about to get laid,” he sneered, “until I saw her mangled scars. who the fuck would want to touch that?”

The breath in Noah’s lungs turned hot and escaped his body, choking him as Brent's words sank in. His fists clenched tightly, and he felt the world around him shatter. He could almost hear your voice, the way you’d always brushed off your past with a smile, how brave you were in the face of your demons. But Brent—he had the audacity to belittle you. That was it. Brent had fucked up.

Suddenly, the current conversation shifted; the guy noticed Noah standing there, confusion flickering across his face. It alerted Brent, and he turned around, the mocking grin fading as he saw the fury etched on Noah’s features.

“What’s your problem, man?” Brent started, but Noah didn’t give him a chance to finish. With swift motion, Noah reared back and swung, his fist connecting hard with Brent’s face. The impact sent Brent flying backward, crashing against the counter, glass bottles tumbling to the ground in a cacophony of shattering chaos.

Loud gasps erupted from the partygoers outside the kitchen, a wave of shock sweeping through the crowd. Brent scrambled to his feet, wiping blood from his lip, rage igniting his eyes. But it was too late to back down. Noah launched himself at Brent, tackling him to the ground, a flurry of punches raining down on him, fueled by the anger and pain he felt for you.

“Get off me, you psycho!” Brent shouted, trying to push Noah away. The struggle was chaotic, a whirlwind of flailing limbs and outrage. Just as Noah readied another blow, Jolly charged in, pulling Noah back with surprising strength.

“Noah, stop!” Jolly shouted, his grip firm as he held Noah at bay. “What happened!”

Noah was seething, panting heavily as he glared down at Brent, who was trying to push himself back up, shaking with anger and disbelief. “Get the fuck out of my house,” Noah growled, his voice low and menacing.

Brent’s eyes widened, the cockiness draining from his face. He looked around, seeing the eyes of the few witnesses, the trepidation in Jolly’s grip, and the fire behind Noah’s glare.

With a rage still shimmering in his veins, Brent muttered something under his breath, stumbling out of the kitchen and pushing past a few confused guests. As the tension dissipated, the music seemed to swell once again, an unsettling backdrop to the upheaval that had just occurred.

Noah, freed from Jolly’s hold, took a moment to catch his breath, the adrenaline of the fight slowly beginning to wane, replaced by a deep concern for you. He didn’t care what anyone else thought of the scene he just created; all he could think of was you and how he could protect you from people like Brent. The real battle would be making sure you knew how much you were worth, scars and all.

The steam curled and twisted upwards like tendrils of a ghost, enveloping me in a cocoon of warmth and moisture, yet I felt anything but comforted. My sobs echoed against the bathroom tiles, reverberating with the music of the party that throbbed beneath me. Laughter and music pulsed through the floorboards, but they were alien sounds in this moment, distant and muffled, a reminder of a world I felt unfit to join.

With trembling hands, I wiped my tears away, attempting to compose myself. “Y/n?” A soft voice echoed through the bathroom, as my breath hitched. “I’m fine,” I called out weakly, trying to sound more convincing than I felt, but the tremor in my voice betrayed me. Just as I braced for another wave of tears, the shower door opened and Noah stepped in.

his clothes still on, clinging to him like a second skin. His arms wrapped around me, and I melted against him, the warmth radiating from his body bringing some semblance of solace. I could feel the steady beat of his heart through the fabric of his shirt. The gentle thump soothed me as I softly cried into his chest, his hand combing through my damp hair, as if he could weave away my pain with each passing stroke.

It took a moment to gather my composure, but when I finally pulled back to look at him, I noticed the water swirling around our feet, tinted a soft pink. Panic flared within me as I glanced down at his hands, noticing the cuts marring his knuckles. “Noah, what happened?” My heart raced at the thought of him getting hurt.

His response was almost too casual, a hint of bravado underneath the weight of his words. “I beat Brent’s fucking ass.” The smile that flickered onto my face was unexpected, born from a blend of relief and admiration. I laid my forehead against him, the warmth of his body a protective barrier against the world below.

Noah was gentle, taking the shampoo from the rack and lathering it into my hair, his fingertips pressing against my scalp in a way that felt simultaneously tender and powerful. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the comfort of his presence, letting him wash away not just the remnants of the night, but the anguish that had been clawing at my heart.

He grabbed my loofah, and bodywash, bathing me next. Sending me back 4 years ago, when he did this for me everyday. Once the water turned off, he wrapped a towel around me, the fabric covering me in warmth as he stripped off his wet clothes, every inch of my cheeks heating more at the sight. He returned, focused, practical, and somehow that made my heart swell. Lifting me effortlessly onto the counter, he took the cotton pad and my makeup remover, carefully cleaning away the smudged remnants of the night while stealing glances at me, gauging my reactions.

The simplicity of his gestures, the kindness radiating from each one, made my insides flutter. He was mending not just the mess on my face but the turmoil inside me too. When he disappeared momentarily and returned with one of his old t-shirts and a pair of my underwear, I felt a warmth. He pressed the towel into my skin, drying me off with an intense focus that made me feel seen, cherished.

He pulled the tshirt over my head, before slipping my underwear up my legs. I carefully lifted my hips from the counter, so he could pull them up over my hips. The deep scary feelings I’ve tried to bury for the past few years, slowly making their appearance.

Once I was dressed, he took my hairbrush and began to detangle my hair with the ease, each stroke a reminder of how he understood me, how he always knew how to take care of me when the world felt too heavy. I watched him in the mirror—his brow furrowed with concentration, his lips pressed together in determination.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice softer than the droplets of water still clinging to the tiles. He met my gaze, kindness dancing in his eyes.

“No need,” he replied with a lopsided grin. “I’ll always be here for you.” The thudding of my heart, beat wildly against my chest. Our eyes stuck in a heated stare down, waiting to see which of caved first. His hand slowly lifted to cup my cheek. His thumb softly rubbed against my cheek, as he leaned in the tiniest bit closer.

“Noah..” I breathed, my voice just above a whisper. The uncertainty that once filled his brown eyes, were now gone. Filled with a darkness, that I was more than ready to fall into. His lips finally connected to mine in a simple kiss. Almost as if testing the waters.

He pulled away for only a moment, before his other hand slob into my hair, pulling me in for another kiss. He didn’t hold back, as he squeezed himself between my thighs, attacking my lips with so much force. His tongue entered my mouth, as he groaned at the taste of me.

I whimpered against his lips, wanting, needing more of him. He pulled away again, resting his forehead against mine as we both panted. “I love you so fucking much y/n, and I’m tired of fighting it.” He shook his head, before pecking my lips again.

I smiled, wrapping my arms around his naked waist pulling him flush against me. “I love you too Noah.” I smiled softly up at him. He grabbed my thighs, wrapping them around him, before lifting me off the counter, and walking us over the threshold back into my room.

He softly dropped me onto the bed, as grabbed him hand pulling him on top of me. I grabbed the towel still wrapped around him, and pulled it loose. He smirked down at me, before reaching up and pushing my hair off my face. “Are you sure about this?”

My eyes flew back up to his before I nodded my head. “I’m positive Noah….please.” Without another word, he leaned down catching my lips into another kiss. As he kissed me, his hand trailed up my thigh, pushing it back and spreading me open.

His tongue slid in my mouth, as his fingers carefully moved my panties over before sinking two of them into me. I moaned against his mouth, as he pulled away smiling. “You sound so pretty baby.” His voice was low, and rough. I whimpered, as I softly bucked my hips into it.

After a few more thrusts he pulled his fingers out, sticking them in his mouth pulling them out with a groan. “And you taste even better.” He lifted himself off of me, grabbing the hem of my shirt.

He slowly pulled it off as I laid underneath him, a rush of warmth and trepidation surging through me. The lamp light in my room, casted a golden hue on everything in the room. It felt as if the world outside had ceased to exist—a serene bubble where only the two of us resided.

Even though Noah had seen my scars a million times before, an insidious wave of insecurity washed over me. As his gaze drifted over the pink lines that traced my skin, I couldn’t help but hold my breath.

A shaky exhale escaped my lips, a reflection of my nerves. Noah, always attuned to my feelings, noticed immediately. His eyes softened, filled with a understanding that spoke volumes. He leaned down, and before I could fully process what was happening, I felt the warmth of his tongue glide along the long scar that ran down my chest between my breasts. An unexpected jolt of pleasure coursed through me, mingled with vulnerability.

He continued his descent, his lips softly placing tender kisses upon each of my scars. With every touch, he seemed to dissolve the doubts that gnawed at the edges of my mind. I could feel each light brush of his lips, each gentle kiss, healing parts of me I thought were beyond repair.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered against my skin, his voice barely above a breath. The words lingered in the air, wrapping around my heart like a soothing balm. It surprised me how true they felt, even after what happened tonight. He looked up, deep into my eyes, his sincerity gleaming like a beacon in the dim lighting.

My pulse raced, and from deep within me, the knots of self-doubt began to unravel. Noah had a way of making me feel seen, as if he could peer into my soul and appreciate every scar etched into it. Each imperfection, every faint line was an emblem of survival, milestones of resilience—but in that moment, they felt less like burdens and more like beautiful parts of my story.

He returned to my lips, kissing me softly, allowing the heat and intimacy of our connection to wash over us. I melted into him, giving in to the moment, and for the first time, I felt as if I could shed my insecurities, if only for a while.

He grabbed the sides of my underwear, pulling them off. He laid back onto me before kissing me hotly, and taking no time to slowly push into me. I gasped, digging my nails into his back at the burning stretch. He grabbed my jaw softly bringing my eyes to his. “Are you okay baby?”

I nodded, lifting my head to kiss his lips. I softly bit on his bottom lip, pulling on it softly. He grunted, as his hips roughly snapped against mine. “Please Noah…” I whined, pulling him into me. He lifted up, caging my head in between his arms. He stared down at me, as he pounded into me mercilessly.

“Fuck baby you feel so good” he groaned, above me. The pleasure on his face made me feral. I dug my heel into the mattress, using all my force to flip our bodies over. His eyes widened in shock, as huge grin formed on his lips. “Fuck baby, you gonna ride me?” He almost whimpered.

My pussy throbbed at his words. Having my big tatted mainly best friend whimpering underneath was not something I ever imagined, but am so fucking lucky to experience. I leaned down, trailing kisses down his throat while he groaned. I leaned back up, grabbing his dick, and hovering back over it.

We both let out low groans, as I sank back down. “Fuck Noah you’re so big.” I whined, slowly rocking my hips back forth. “Yeah?” He breathed, gripping my hips tightly. I nodded my head, placing my hands against his chest.

He groaned at my sluggish pace, as I smirked down at him, enjoying my teasing game. After a few minutes, he was done with my teasing. His hand shot up, wrapping around my throat. He pulled me down until our noses were touching, as a cocky smile made its way to his face.

“You really thought I was gonna let you take control?” He growled, brushing his lips against mine. “I-..” my sentence was cut short, as his hips fucked up into me hard and fast. My nails dug into his chest, gripping on for dear life.

His fingers tightened around my throat as he finally connected our lips into a sloppy kiss. Lips, tongues, and teeth clashing. He pushed me back, making me sit up straight on top of him. He reached up, shoving two fingers in my mouth, as I moaned around them, sucking on them hard.

He slowly slid them out, running them down my throat, down my chest and stopping to squeeze my tit. “C’mon baby. You gonna cum for me?” He panted, continuing his decent until his fingers reached my swollen clit.

I threw my head back with a moan, in love with how he was making me feel. I leaned back, placing my hands right above his knees behind me, as I continued riding him. “Fuuuuck…” I groaned as his fingers sped up.

I felt my orgasm rising with each thrust of his hips, and stroke of his fingers. “I’m gonna cum.” I whined, looking down at him. The sight was beautiful. His brows were furrowed, and his lips were parted, as he released ragged breaths.

“C’mon baby give it to me. Cum on my dick.” He groaned finally looking up at me. As soon as we made eye contact, my orgasm shook my body. “Good fucking girl.” He grunted, as he fucked me through it. I huffed, falling onto his chest as thrusted a few more times finally releasing into me with a groan.

We laid there for what felt like hours, catching our breaths just holding each other. He placed a kiss on top of my head, before gently pushing me off onto the bed beside him. He reached down grabbing the towel he wore earlier, and cleaned us off.

Once we were clean he grabbed my comforter, pulling it over us. He pulled me into his arms, as I snuggled deep into his chest. “I love you so much y/n. You’re the most beautiful person I have ever laid my eyes on. I will spend every minute proving that to you from now on. Please don’t let some dick head make you think differently.”

I felt my eyes well up with tears again, as I placed a gentle kiss to the middle of his chest. “I love you.”

[leo-artista]

Soooo I've been thinking about this roleswap au that I made and how Eda and Stan's backstories would change in accordance to their new setting, and here's what I have so far:

- Eda and Lilith's conflict stems from Lilith feeling like her accomplishments aren't recognized by her parents because they're always more worried about taking care of Eda (she's chronically ill, because in toh her curse is used as a metaphor for that so I thought it would be cool to include it here). And like Stan and Ford they never communicate about it, so it ends up souring their relationship

- Their fall out happens because Eda accidentally breaks Lilith's project, and Lilith assumes she sabotaged her on purpose. Then they fight and Eda decides to leave the house to get away from her sister and also her overprotective mom

- Fast forward a few years, Lilith calls for help from Eda because she was tricked by an entity she thought was her friend (Belos). They fight, Lilith goes through the portal, Eda steals her identity and spends 30 years working to bring her back, you know the drill

- So in this au I thought about making Luz and King twins, but then I had the idea of King taking Soos's place as the adopted son figure who works in the shop since it would kinda match with their canon relationship, so instead Luz and Vee are sisters here, and Vee's adopted. Idk if they would actually be related to Eda or not, maybe her and Camila are friends and she asks Eda to let her kids spend summer with her or something

Now to Stanley:

- So like. The whole "six fingered freak" stuff kinda doesn't work anymore because this is the boiling isles and everyone's weird here. I still want Ford to have six fingers because it's an iconic part of his character, but it's just seen as a normal thing in this setting so it doesn't change anything

- Ford has an afinity for all types of magic, and he wants to join the emperor's coven so he can be allowed to study and use all of them. Stanley's also good with magic, but since he doesn't pay attention at school and doesn't care enough to learn more than he has to, he's known as the "dumber twin", even if in practicality they're on the same level

- To be honest idk how the whole curse thing would go. Maybe Ford is manipulated by Bill (who takes Belo's place in this au) to curse his own brother in exchange for joining the coven because he sees potential in him? Well in any case, Stan gets cursed and attacks Filbrick while in his owl form and that's how he gets kicked out

- Maybe Soos could be King in this au, since I don't want Stan to just be all alone and I think they'd have a cute dynamic

- Mabel and Dipper end up in the boiling isles after they ditch summer camp and end up with Stanley. Dipper doesn't like him at first, but Mabel thinks he's really cool and she wants him to teach her magic (which Stanley eventually does, begrudgingly). Dipper really likes the boiling isles and wants to learn everything he can about it, so he ends up getting into Hexside (followed by Mabel who wants to learn more about the magic system so she can become the coolest witch ever)

- By this point Ford is working with the emperor and trying to catch Stanley because he thinks he can find a cure for the curse (Bill told him so, and he'd never lie to him, right?)

So that's all I have for now, if you have any comments or suggestions I'd love to hear it

[z3rinn]

# #. KINGDOM CALLING !!

Being a Keyblade Wielder you thought you'd have seen everything by now. But you never expected to end up in a world where the villains you defeated were worshipped.

more twst x kh content because i’ve been hyper fixated on it for the past few months T_T speaking of, the reason I've been gone for so long is because I’ve now got a fic in the makings- using this exact concept! it’s posted on my wattpad and quotev, but I’m also debating if I should put it on this site… it’s quite long though! lmk if you guys think I should :]

Twisted Wonderland was weird.

You thought you’d have seen everything by now. Being a Keyblade Wielder, your job was to travel across worlds, defeating the darkness and hate spread by those willing to conquer.

You’d experienced stories and magic you could barely comprehend, standing on the sidelines as you watched fairytales play right before your eyes.

Creatures and supernaturals were considered friends, being far different from the monsters you imagined them to be. Even talking animals were a common thing now, having traveled with Donald Duck and Goofy for a better part of three years now.

You never thought you'd miss them.

Your life back on Destiny Islands was simple. Back there, you had a home; with small rowing boats and hammocks on the tiny island a quick swim away. You had proper food, with star shaped fruits said to bind your soul with your loved ones. Most importantly- you had your best friends; Sora, Riku, and Kairi— all eccentric yet lovable characters that held your heart. You would do anything for them.

The island was a sanctuary, a place for comfort and familiarity. If you had known what you did now, you would've trapped yourself there, basking in the warm sand and cool water brushing across your body. But then, being young and immature, you just wanted to leave.

Three years have passed since then. Years full of mystery and surprise.

You had undergone many things on your journey; battling against Heartless and monsters. Falling down rabbit holes and encountering princesses every which way you turned. Meeting leaders of all kinds of worlds, binding your hearts to create everlasting friendships. You had even sided with villians, willing to set aside your differences to accomplish your goals.

It was odd… working with Maleficent.

At one point you even had your heart stolen. Ripped away from you to create a husk. And that was just the surface.

You thought you had seen everything by now....

But Twisted Wonderland was weird.

Everything happened so suddenly; kicking open an overly fancy coffin ( far different from the ones Jack Skellington used ) only to be met by a creature that looked oddly like Stitch. But before you could ask anything, he gave chase, demanding you give him your robes— how did you even get these on?

Panic stricken, you ran. Running across classrooms, hallways, and courtyards- all while trying to get away from the cat.

Questions and concerns began to gush through your mind. How could you have gotten here? Where was everyone?

And where were you?

The next thing you knew, you were in a regal library, cornered by the monster. Floating books and dancing lanterns surrounded you, all approaching with intrigue. They all seemed to be observing you, like they were anticiping something.

Blue fire brushed across your skin, the flames flickering against your robes. You realized they were waiting for a spell, like they knew you would cast it before the thought could even pop into your mind.

Just as you raised your hand, getting ready to summon your Keyblade, a whip wrapped around the cat.

Both of you jumped, eyes darting to the double doors, finding a crow-looking man standing there. He looked oddly disappointed. Your eyes immediately narrowed, hands tensing.

Just looking at him made you feel on edge.

He was radiating darkness.

His golden eyes seemed to be staring right into your soul, gazing deep and pulling you apart from the seams. They pierced through your own. Entrancing. Like they were studying and discerning your moves. You didn't like them.

They looked like a villians.

You were wary of the man, raising a brow when he introduced himself. Crowley was his name; Descendant of a Hero. An odd name for someone whose heart seemed so full of darkness. He led you to a chamber room, surrounded by floating coffins and magic. Dark energy overfilled the room, whispers and cackles echoing from robed figures as they eyed your form.

You thought back to Organization XIII.

You didn't like robes all that much anymore.

They were traumatizing.

Crowley huffed, pushing you in front of— the magic mirror? Was that the one The Evil Queen used?

The mask in the mirror spoke, blank eyes narrowing at you as if you'd attack it at any second. Of course, it had every right to be afraid. Your friend literally threw a giant key at it once. Hopefully it could get passed that though, and you could ask it how you got here?

It bullshitted something about you not having a soul, ( you had a strange inkling it was being petty but whatever ) but before it could finish, the cat broke free.

He yelled, claiming he was strong enough to be at this school, and that he deserved your spot. You tilted your head at his outburst. Was that all he wanted? You gladly would've given your spot to him. You weren’t meant to be in this world in the first place. Hopefully you’d be out of here soon.

You had Heartless to go fight.

You had to go find Sora.

A quick mishap occurred, with Grim ( you remembered his name ) setting the room on fire. Apparently he was trying to show off his magic; an odd way to do so but you digress. A red haired boy chased after him, along with a boy with glasses.

Their magic was strange, coming out of a jeweled pen of all things.

Wind magic was casted, similar to your own Aero spells. Water attacks were aimed at it, easily dousing the blue flames. It was honestly amazing, watching so much magic come out of a tiny pen.

The redhead stopped in front of the cat, pointing his pen at him with narrowed eyes. Your own widened as he shouted a curse.

Off with your head.

That sounded awfully familiar.

…

Crowley was going to kick you out.

The magic mirror- or rather the dark mirror- explained that you didn't have a home to go to. You guessed it was because Destiny Islands was a whole other world, and simple mirror travel wouldn't be able to reach that far.

No matter, you could simply contact Donald or Riku on your Gummi phone and go home.

But of course, the first time a phone specifically made to communicate between worlds doesn't work is when you need it most.

So you did the only thing you could.

And showed him your Keyblade.

He muttered something to himself, widened eyes never leaving the blade in your hand. His feathers ruffled in surprise and intrigue, the slight curl of them being… strange. 

It was as if they were smiling.

Your eyes flickered to his own- noticing his scary… intense gaze.

You didn’t dare break contact, being far too focused on those piercings eyes. 

Those haunting, golden eyes. 

Eyes that looked just like Xehanorts.

The Headmage led you to a rundown cabin, home to a variety of ghosts and cobwebs. The building reminded you of the ones in Halloween Town; rundown with mischievous creatures inhabiting the spaces. These ghosts just looked like marshmallows.

You let out a low sigh, allowing yourself to fall on the dusted couch in the lounge. Debris flew up under your weight, flying into the air before dissapting. Your gaze was focused on the ceiling above, dazed as rain droplets fell to your cheeks and the wooden floors below.

The building was silent, aside from the rain. Wind blew against cobwebs, flying past your face and sticking to the rotting wood. Splinters and jagged pieces spiked up, parts of the walls ripped apart from age and student endeavors.

It was lonely here.

You didn't have anyone in this world.

Not even Jiminy fucking Cricket.

You hadn’t been alone in a long time.

The door creaked open, "Myah- it's really pouring out there!"

...

Twisted Wonderland.

That's what this place was called.

A world very befitting for its name.

Everything about this world was off— or at least— Night Raven College was.

Students seemed to love and adore the beings you had tried so desperately to keep away. They had dorms dedicated to them, embracing their darkness and allowing themselves to fall under its curse. Darkness that you had to get rid of.

Of course, they didn't actually know about the dangers you faced, finding these villians to be great and kind. They didn't know of the death and tragedy caused- the mistakes you had to fix.

It was strange though. Worlds weren't supposed to know of one another, otherwise chaos could ensue.

So why was Twisted Wonderland a combination of them all?

You suppose that's how this place got its name.

Everything in this world was twisted. Villians were considered heroic; great and all mighty beings that you and Sora definitely didn't beat.

While in the botanical gardens you sometimes laugh, imagining Leona's face if you told him you helped kill Scar. He gives you weird looks, telling you to shut up and go back to sleep. You try. It doesn’t work.

It wasn't until the Riddle incident did you realize why you were sent to this world. Darkness and hatred had been accumulating in the corners of this realm, seeping into the depths of people's hearts.

It was at times like this that made you miss Sora.

You turned over on your bed, eyes focused on the ceiling above. Moonlight seeped in through the wooden cracks, bits of the glowing celestial body peeking in. It was almost speaking to you, luring you towards it with the promise of comfort.

Kingdom Hearts.

Your eyes shut, turning away from the beckoning moon.

Well whatever. You had another long day ahead of you.

…

Thoughts? This was just a quick wip that I made in like an hour lolll. I’m thinking of doing another part tho, where we dive into character interactions and such. Rlly wanna write for Silver and a KH! MC!

[yooniesim]

ok unfortunately for yall the dash made me have a thought so now I gotta ramble lol

but ya know. maybe it's bc I've had so much time away from here and all the bitching (/affectionate) but over the past couple years, I get less angry about this shit and more solution-minded. and I don't mean for the community as a whole (that's impossible lol) but in a sort of... personal circle/responsibility type of way. like what we can do among ourselves without the confrontation aspect bc, just being honest- from my perspective & experience, the anger and the bitching doesn't really accomplish shit. not to say it ain't justified, & it's important to raise awareness for sure, but i swear me & a lot of others that have been talking about this for a long time have just been barking in circles without anything budging one way or another. which leads to burnout/emotional exhaustion not just for the ppl in question but for followers/mutuals/friends. I spent far too long and waaaay too much mental energy thinking that being the loudest and the boldest would get something to change. but the scammers keep scamming and the shit just keeps going. and sure it's fun as hell to shoot the shit and pick and bitch and laugh with your mutuals. baby yall know I love a good simblr circlejerk. but ya know, when you sit down and think about it it's a lil depressing. and the ppl you're talking to/around are already Aware and eventually the anger wears off and they're just tired of hearing about it. you're preaching to the choir and everyone is just pissed and tired with no clear goal to work towards.

Part of that exhaustion is why i made @alwaysfreecc as a positive way to boost always free creators, without focusing on the paywallers. as well as always supporting alternate ways of getting paywalled cc. but I think it takes a lil more than just that. I think, like the post I just reblogged was saying, people need to learn how to make their own content too. I know there's a learning curve, but so many things paywallers make are outright easy to do yourself. Some aren't- there are paywall creators that put great effort into their content and make it worth your money- but a lot of them are. And that isn't to say you should make everything yourself, there's nothing wrong with supporting creators that make content you find interesting or wouldn't want to do yourself, but it can be really rewarding to learn how to make simple edits and recolors on your own. And, image editing and 3d modeling skills can also benefit you elsewhere in life! Whether professionally or when modding other games. Knowing how to make cc in sims helped me figure out how to make certain things for skyrim and fallout, for example. Hell, it's just plain FUN to figure out and do, and I think the community could always use more of that.

Also, sometimes it's freeing to just, stop using certain creators' content. Like, i used to be bitching yet downloading stuff off dhm and shit, out of spite mostly cos half the stuff I didn't even like. But since I cleared out a lot of paywallers' stuff, besides a few I think are worth it/doing things honestly, it just feels better. I don't even think about those mfs anymore until I see something about them on my dash and then I can barely remember who they are lol. You don't realize how much you really don't NEED any of that shit & how you were kinda just downloading it to be downloading it, until you toss it. AND it feels great to have mostly always free creators' content & support them. Liiike i feel proud of ppl i saw get started and are STILL FREE and making awesome stuff, it's exciting! even when I'm not playing the game, I see their posts and be like "dang I need to grab that when I update" or "man they've gotten so much better in so little time" or "wow I never thought of that idea/seen that before". Bc always free peeps get to be so damn creative bc they don't have deadlines or turning off their paying audience to worry about. Like it's so cool and positive and I love that.

idk, just. based on what I've experienced here, i feel like it's kinda time to focus less on what the assholes are doing now (aka the same exact thing they've been doing for years) and more on what to do to make our own personal experiences better. which I know a lot of us are doing! I just wish I personally had done it earlier lol so maybe someone else needs to hear that too. like toss these dummies to the curb and replace them is what I'm sayin. If not in the whole community but just your personal circle. raise awareness as needed sure but don't let em take any more of your energy. cos if you are petty like me (😂) it'll hurt em way more to cast em out than yell at em. all the ppl that have bitched at me yet still have my cc in their folders come to mind lmfao, cos personally that gives me more satisfaction than anything else so I know it's probably the same for the scammers! Like a "you hate me but you can't bear to not use my shit huh 😏" type of deal. Don't give em that sick pleasure! (/projecting) Just focus on you and yours and make some sick ass content for yourself, then share it to me thx 💅

[patibato]

[Bitter Sweet Sixteen] 002-A28 - Stand by "ME"

Momiji: Huh…?

Nanaki: …Failed?

Ushio: …

Muneuji: …

Kiroku: …Wh …

Akuta: —Huh, I failed?

Even though everyone else passed, it's just me?

……Wo~w.

Muneuji: Sensei, I do not agree with that grading.

Akuta: …Muneujii…

Muneuji: I tried applying Isotake's actions to the criteria you set out, and in my opinion, there are a few discrepancies.

Sakujiro: Oh? A grade from a student's point of view? That's rather brazen, but interesting. Do enlighten me on what is wrong, and how.

Muneuji: With both being selected as candidates, and going on the tour, I didn't have any heartfelt expectations, and yet—

Carried along on Isotake's energy, I wound up participating. There are some parts I regret about it.

But I completed all the work left in my hands. I accomplished all that and more.

I fulfilled my duties and became passionate. It had been a while since I enjoyed myself so much.

The funny faces he showed me on sleepless nights were very amusing.

Nanaki: Sakuchan-sensei, can I say something too?

…I started getting annoyed with people a few days in. I felt like I didn't care what happened anymore.

But… Akuta. When looking at what a dumb, reckless idiot he is—

I feel like the things I worry about are stupid. I felt like I was an idiot for trying to look cool.

It's fine to be more unpresentable. It's fine to not give up on connecting with people-

It's fine to eat the omelette rice he got from the convenience store by putting natto on it…!

Akuta: Natto omelettes are good…

Nanaki: That's how he made me think. It… might be different to Sakuchan-sensei's opinion.

Kiroku: I-

…Isotake… accepted… my strange art, and sensibilities… without… denying… me…

And… compared to me, who didn't finish the lantern… …Isotake… is different—

……He didn't… give in…!

The success, of the festival… was definitely because… he kept on… going… and opened a path… with his own power…

And he… wore the same t-shirt… for three days… straight…

Akuta: Guess I didn't get changed much…

Kiroku: …I wouldn't, be able… to do that… it's incredible…

Sakujiro: …I see, so you all have your own thoughts on this. I understand.

Kurama-kun, do you have anything to add?

Ushio: …

Akuta: …

Ushio: I wonder. To be frank, nothing much comes to mind—

Akuta: Doh!

Ushio: He's blatantly egotistic, blatantly stupid, and a full-fledged loser.

He's a dumbass, I never understand what he's saying. The way he acts is nonsensical—

But, I think it's fine for a kid to put his all into being one.

Akuta: …Hey, are you complimenting me?

Ushio: With my whole body and soul.

Sakujiro: —Is that all?

Ushio: …

Sakujiro: Does anyone else have more to say?

Muneuji: I do. …I'm just, in the middle of calculating what.

Nanaki: Umm… there's that. …You know, that.

Kiroku: … …

Ushio: Yeah, we've got nothing.

We can't think of anything. Let's give up.

Akuta: -…Aaah… got it…

Well, c'est la vie. What can't be done can't be done.

Thanks for searching so much for me, guys! I love you. …You too, Sensei.

—Well, I'll be off.

Momiji: W-wait! Akuta-kun-

Sakujiro: …Mwaha…

Momiji: Sakujiro-san?

Sakujiro: Mwahaha… hahaha…

AAH HA HA! FUHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Kafka: …

Akuta: Huh… no, what…? D-did I not time my exit right…?

Muneuji: Have you gone mad, Karigane-sensei?

Momiji: (His true nature's coming out… Even though he said earlier that he acts relatively normal at school.)

Sakujiro: That's RIGHT! Leaving now is MUCH too soon, Akuta-kun! Sit down! I'll aim this chalk right for your brow!

Akuta: Awawawawah, g-g-g-got it!

Sakujiro: Please listen closely, everyone.

Though I have a purpose in life, I do not possess a dream.

I've none of the glittering, shining hopes, dreams, or passion that you youngsters emit.

Not even when I was your age. Not before, nor ever since.

However—

When I heard Akuta-kun's speech at the festival venue, with his ego on full display, giving his straightforward and honest thoughts…

I felt as if something was suddenly circulating through my body.

I learned through firsthand experience that someone's passion could be transmitted into me, in which nothing had ever naturally occurred.

To put it simply, it "touched my heart"… that's what I would call that phenomenon.

For Tourism Ward Mayors, spreading "affinity" to those with no relation to the area is your duty, your work.

Imparting new passion to travellers will change it from a stranger's area into their own—giving meaning to the moment they experience that is our ambition.

And so, I have established a new grading criteria just now.

"Passion Evangelist"—

Isotake Akuta-kun. I offer you ten thousand points for that talent of yours, and along with that, I endorse you as the leader of the Day Team.

What do you think, Young Master.

Kafka: …

Akuta: …

Kafka: I approve.

Momiji: …!

Akuta: … For real?

…

Hoo—

All Five: HOORAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!

Akuta: Well, my place is this way, so…

Muneuji: Right.

Akuta: …

Ushio: …Aren't you going to go?

Akuta: No, I'm just reluctant? It's a weird feeling!

Kiroku: ……That's… rare…

Muneuji: …

Nanaki: With all of us passing like this… I can't help but feel like we did something bad to the egg.

Kiroku: -…

Akuta: Cheer up! Don't you suppose it's enjoying itself at a beautiful lady's house or something!?

Nanaki: Y-yeah, yeah! I mean, its shell is sturdy! I'm sure it's fine. Yeah.

Kiroku: …Mhm…

Ushio: …Anyway, me and Muuchan live this way, so. See ya.

Muneuji: Hold on.

Ushio: Hm?

Muneuji: …I have something I wish to discuss with you all.

Akuta: Huh, what what? You sound serious, what's up?

Muneuji: I recalled this during Oguro-san's explanation earlier. That day, at the old school building—

I saw the Principal.

Ushio: Huh?

Nanaki: Really? Why would he be there?

Muneuji: I don't know myself. At first, I assumed he was simply on night patrol.

However, the reports said there were no injured parties. And then, too, I assumed he managed to escape one way or another like we did.

After all, at the online closing ceremony held afterwards, the Principal gave a speech as usual. However, try to recall.

That day, the speech was given through voice alone, with his camera off.

Kiroku: …Now that, you mention it…

Nanaki: So to summarise, you think that has something to do with the egg?

Muneuji: Correct. …There's also the matter of that mysterious slimy substance, and Ohno's disappearance.

Nanaki: …Right. Ohno-kun… They still haven't found him, have they.

Akuta: Yeah~ if I'd gotten a proper shot at that time, it could've been used as evidence…

Kiroku: …M… maybe you… didn't see… right.

Ushio: Muuchan's got good eyesight, even in the dark. And he absolutely doesn't lie.

Nanaki: But of all people, the Principal would have no reason to go out of his way to bring that extraterrestrial egg and sticky stuff to the old school building.

Muneuji: …

You… may be right. Perhaps I'm being too suspicious.

However, I felt it best to tell you all about it. …Please keep it in mind.

Nanaki: Got it. Thanks for letting us know.

Kiroku: …ank, yo…

Akuta: —Alright! With that said and done!

No point staying here forever. I'm starving, so let's head on home!

Nanaki: Yep. See you tomorrow.

Kiroku: … Bye… bye.

Muneuji: Let's continue getting on tomorrow.

Ushio: Let's go, Muuchan.

*tapping and bubbling*

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Masterlist

[godlizzza]

prompt: danbert trying to makeup after a particularly nasty argument

"You ruined my life!"

"You ruined your own life, now stop trying to ruin mine with your incessant whining."

Dan bared his teeth, the viciousness at odds with the redness of his eyes. With his shoulders shaking and his breath stuttering out of him in angry puffs, he looked just as ready to punch Herbert as he did to burst into tears. Herbert didn't know which he would've hated more.

"I wish I never met you," Dan bit out, the words barely scraping past his clenched teeth. "The world would be better off without you."

Herbert turned from the cupboard he was stacking dry dishes into--this is what he got for trying to make an effort around the house to appease Dan--and faced him, keeping his emotions simmering below the surface, where Dan couldn't see them. He injected cool indifference into his expression, watching Dan nearly bursting at the seams with all that he was feeling. So much hatred and passion, all for him.

"And what have you done for the world?" Herbert wondered, satisfaction unfurling in his stomach as he watched the blows land, Dan's mouth dropping open in hurt and shock. "Where are all these people you've supposedly helped? Saved? I don't see anyone. Anything of merit you've ever accomplished has been because of me. Without me, you're nothing. You mean nothing to anyone. Except me."

Herbert stared at Dan, watching him shake for a moment before Dan turned without another word and stalked away. His footfalls stomped loudly up the rickety wooden steps, followed by a door slamming shut.

Good. Let him stew and fester, Herbert thought, the words he'd spat at Dan leaving remnants of acid burning in his mouth. He tried to focus in on his task once again, piling plates atop each other and sliding them onto the shelf, but it seemed the one stewing and festering was him. He tried to shake it off, push the image of Dan's wounded expression from his mind, but those sad brown eyes refused to leave him.

Herbert stood on his toes, trying to place the glass salad bowl up on the top shelf, but all he could manage was pressing the edge of the bowl against the lip of wood. It wobbled precariously, half in his grip, half on the shelf, before he sighed and pulled it back down. How many times had Dan entered the kitchen to find Herbert struggling with that same damned shelf? How many times had he chuckled, taken the object from Herbert's grasp and put it away himself before turning back to Herbert and kissing his head?

It was a level of gooey domesticity that Herbert never thought he'd indulge in with anyone. But Dan wasn't anyone.

Cold tendrils of guilt and regret wormed their way into Herbert's chest and he sighed, knowing it was on him to clear the air. So, he slowly made his way up the stairs and down the hall to Dan's room. He rapped his knuckled lightly on the door before pushing it open.

"Dan?" he said, poking his head in.

Dan was sat on the edge of his bed-- one he'd shared with Herbert quite a few times now-- with his back to the door. He was slumped over, his face buried in his hands. Herbert wondered if he'd just been sitting there like that this whole time as he closed the door with a soft click behind him.

"Don't be mad at me," Herbert murmured, slowly pacing towards the bed. "You know I didn't mean any of it."

"Yes, you did," came Dan's husky reply. Had he been crying? "You meant it and you're right. I've never helped anyone."

"That's not true," Herbert simpered, crawling across the bed until he was on his knees and wrapping his arms around Dan's shoulders. "You've helped me. I don't know where I'd be without you."

When Dan didn't respond, Herbert laid his head down on Dan's back, squeezing him tight. In his experience, nothing thawed Dan quite like physical affection. He could pout and say sorry all he wanted, but if he wanted to shoot straight at Dan's heart, he needed him in his arms, needed him to feel the heat of his body. Herbert nuzzled at the back of his neck, soft hairs brushing his nose.

"Even if you're nothing to anyone else," Herbert said softly, "you're everything to me, Danny."

With his fingers knitted together over Dan's sternum, Herbert felt it when he dragged in a ragged breath. After a moment, Dan's hands pressed over Herbert's, cradling them between his dry palms. He squeezed Herbert's hands, pushing them close to his chest until Herbert could feel the steady beat of his heart drumming against his fingertips.

"Herbert," Dan whimpered, then said nothing more, as if there was nothing else he could even think to say.

Herbert just smiled against his back and held him.

[darkonekrisrewrite]

Something I've noticed is that MHA and MLB (miraculous ladybug) is that they are similar in how their protagonists are blamed for the wrong things.

Like Deku constantly injures himself because no one taught him how to use his quirk, and is over a decade behind his peers, gets blamed for that. Or how the series seemingly gives him equal responsibility for him and Le Million not saving Eri right away, when he wanted to, Mirio overruled him, meaning he wouldn't get the support needed to push this and he's supposed to listen to his upperclassman.

Yet he isn't given any blame for his lack of critical thinking skills when it comes to heroes and morality. If they are a hero they must be good, and villains must want to be perfect heroes for the law, to be redeemable.

Endeavor says to his face that he only took him and Bakugou on to manipulate Shoto, after Shoto has told him he bought & abused his mom, and himself. Deku "oh it's so good that you are working on forgiving your dad," right in the same room as Natsuo who isn't. Then tells Dabi "Endeavor is such a good hero and mentor, you have no right to be upset"

Let me know if you want me to go more into the parallels of this

Yeah, Deku getting blamed for not knowing how to use his (very new) Quirk was wrong.

At that time, it made me feel bad for Deku, because anyone could see that those circumstances weren't really his fault.

It was the fault of UA and All-might for not giving Deku extra time and help in mastering OFA, even if there was some attempts at instruction, none of them ever cut Deku any slack for having completely understandable difficulties.

Not a very logical line of thinking...

The Eri situation was a little different because while Deku is supposed to listen to his senior for what to do, he did let a clearly scared little girl go off with overhaul, a man they knew was very dangerous.

Basically putting his orders above the little girl's safety, I didn't like that.

(Because Deku could have run off with Eri and Mirio could have taken overhaul out by himself if there was a fight.

Because if Mirio was able to fight for a while against overhaul in a fully enclosed space (something that heavily compliments overhaul's quirk), while he was quirkless...Mirio could have curb stomped overhaul while protecting any civilians that may or may not have been close.)

That was where my problem with Deku started I think.

Because Deku doesn't have anything to criticize about hero society or the victims it creates.

He says that he needs to extend a helping hand, not giving a single thought to the idea of preventative measures to stop people from falling to villainy in the first place.

And apparently, not giving them any real mercy or help either, other than a fist bump at their death.

All for the sake of protecting the "innocent" people who created the villains and who would have laughed at Deku's own suffering as a quirkless less than a year ago (canonically).

These are meant to be the ideals of the "World's Greatest Hero" btw...

So I guess it makes sense that Deku wouldn't be blamed or called out for this, since he's just doing what hero society needs to be "Normal" again.

Deku didn't even save the world technically.

Because if the same problems that created the Lov still exist, then all Deku really did was beat at a rising Ocean Tide, no different than what All-might was doing during his time.

As of yet, nothing has actually been accomplished or achieved.

All the endeavor and Dabi stuff ties into this too.

At this point, I don't think Deku will ever have any real negative feelings towards hero society, and thus never change anything.

(Despite all this, I'm still hoping shigaraki is alive and Deku conflicts with him more to prove me wrong 🤞🍀)

And yeah, more parallels would be cool 👍 thanks for the ask!

[definitelynotshouting]

Okay, so, question I've had for a while but never got around to asking, what the FUCK is up with Grian's wings?

If all physical differences in players (like those particularly ascribed to 'Hybrids' in mcyt fanon) in Hunger AU are a result of conscious altering of your own code for the express purpose of achieving YOUR IDEAL BODY(tm) then what does that mean for Grian and his wings? No one seems to regard Grian's wings as "What The Fuck, You Can DO That?!?" so presumably wings aren't so big of a change from normal biology that players can't do that. If so, why is it not more common? Man, if I could have wings I'd jump on that in seconds. Especially with the sheer utility the ability to fucking FLY gives players. Are wings (and maybe other larger alterations) just like, REALLY HARD to code in? If so, that might add a really cool layer of "Oh wow! They must be a really good coder!" to players who meet people like that.

On a related note, Grian seems to have a positive regard for his wings, which is interesting because I would be willing to bet he didn't have that before *insert sounds of worm-bursting and non-consensual body modification*. I imagine seeing his wings would likely feel like a reminder of the Watchers and what they did to him. BUT, Watchers manipulate their own code when they change like Grian did to, y'know, not be a worm anymore so Grian probably specifically chose how he looked, right? So, unless he did so really rushed and somehow made a mistake while doing so (which he might not be able to risk the structural damage of correcting), keeping the wings was a conscious decision. Does Grian just not associate his wings with the Watchers or is it something else? Does he just really enjoy having wings?

HELLO I AM SO GLAD YOU'VE ASKED THIS BECAUSE I HAVE ‼️‼️‼️‼️ MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT IT ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

Okay okay so these are all SUCH valid questions, lemme go through them one by one. Wings are indeed something anyone could have if they wanted to code them in-- and in fact, i do believe many other Players have wings throughout the universe!!! As far as body mods go, i like to think of them as decently popular, so its definitely not anything too weird to see. In chapter 5, i even make a mention to Pearl having moth wings she occasionally codes in due to preference!!! So wings of many different types are definitely available-- but the catch is that they're real fiddly to code. You cant just give yourself wings, you have to code in the bone structure, the muscles, the tendons, etc etc, and then you have to change your entire body structure as well to work with and fully support them. They can be awkward and unwieldy, as ive tried to show in the fic itself, and i think that alone can be a big discouragement for Players considering coding in wings, along with the sheer coding effort needed to obtain them and make them functional

And the thing is, elytra already exist-- they're far more compact, they dont take up as much space, you can take them on and off super easily without having to mess with your coding, and they basically do the same thing. Sure, its a pain to get one, but a lot of Players really enjoy the sense of accomplishment, and i think theres a bit of cultural prestige too in that regard. Server milestones are a huge thing in Player culture, and getting your first pair of elytra is a big one!!! So it makes sense to me that people who just dont want to go through the effort of coding in wings (which can then in turn complicate how they code other future modifications) primarily stick to elytra.

And everybody is different-- some people prefer attributes that arent wings. I like to think everyone in hermitcraft generally is a mix of "jeez thats effort, i could be building my base instead of doing that" and "eh im fine how i am, i like it" and "well we have elytra shops everywhere so why bother".

So in short, yeah!! Wings are a bit complex to code in. They're still pretty popular, i think plenty of Players do choose to incorporate them, but it takes a lot of hard and thorough work to make sure they function right and wont bug you out when you use them. There are billions of Players scattered across the universe, so what you're seeing in the fic right now is truly just a drop in the ocean when it comes to Player body diversity :] and then, elytra basically already help Players achieve a form of flight without the hassle of recoding their entire body structure, so i think the majority of Players just prefer to use them instead.

AS FOR GRIAN'S WINGS IN PARTICULAR......

Well..... its complicated. Particularly his feelings about them-- in the fic, i referenced them as the only good thing the Watchers ever gave him, and thats how he sees it, i think: a thin silver lining. He's had many, many years to get used to them, and i think he goes through periods where he hates them and the memories attached, too. Ultimately, he's kinda stuck with them, so i think he hit a form of acceptance (as bitter-tinged as it may be) out of sheer necessity for his own sanity.

As for why he has them, and hasnt coded them out: i think of it as a particular quirk of biology/structural coding. Watchers have a more instinctive way of coding than Players, but a Player-minded Watcher is still going to think like a Player, and thats going to muddle things a lot. Grian essentially had to relearn how to code, in a way that satisfied both Player and Watcher-style coding, and the results at first were.... a little rough around the edges. Once he managed to finally take on his original former appearance, the wings from his true form just kind of.... stuck. I like to think it took a few increasingly desperate tries before he realized he just could not figure out how to get rid of them (bc of how different his new code was), and had to accept that this was just how he was gonna have to live for a while until he finally figured it out. And then, well.... you can get used to anything, if you're stuck with it long enough. I think after a while it just stopped being a huge priority, and then he reached a point where it would be more awkward to live without them than with them, and he eventually dropped the idea altogether. And i think sometimes, they function almost like a scar, to him-- a reminder of what he went through, yes, but a reminder that he did manage to escape. And, ofc, he also just really, really likes flying skdjskdjdj

So yeah, loads of complicated feelings there about his wings, and its stuff i do plan on exploring later in the fic!!! This got a little rambly, but i hope this makes sense and answers your questions!!!! :D its a fun little complicated knot that im glad someone has gotten curious enough to ask about!!!!

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.198 Money, money, money

I don't stay in my feelings long because my life is great. Sometimes we think we know what we want, but the grass isn't always greener on the other side. I have everything I need. I love my lone child and my wife more than anything in this world. My sister and her children are the cherries on top of my life's parfait. I have friends whom I love, three beautiful homes, multiple streams of income, good health, and, of course, the fur babies. I don't need much more.

The rain stopped, so I jump at the chance to get started on the treehouse. I get as far as building a quick scaffold before Sophia comes out with an amazing proposal: we should invite Dub, Maia, and Tami over for a cookout. That is the best idea. We had such an awesome time together back in El Ciudad Enamorada, and we all insisted we needed to get together more often. But, of course, life does life things, and we still haven't scheduled anything. Sophia and Maia became good friends on that trip, and I'm glad she's taking the lead on this because, left up to me, we'd probably never do it. I'm always go, go, go, moving onto the next thing. I'm so glad my friends love me because I still suck at keeping in touch.

I give Sophia enthusiastic approval of her plan, so she goes back inside. I get back to building the treehouse, but within minutes I feel cool drops of rain rolling down my face. If this cat-and-mouse situation continues for the rest of the season, I'm never gonna finish this thing. Desiree and the kids will be teenagers and too big for it by the time I'm done. I stow my tools reluctantly and go inside. While it's on my mind, I text Dub to give him a heads up so we can start planning our next family shindig.

I find Sophia breaking in our new sitting area in the kitchen, so I join her. Shortly after, Desi finds us and enters the chat. It's in that moment I feel that release I needed about her going to school. I have no idea how or where that feeling came from, but when school starts back up again, I can let her go without being a worried mess. She loves hanging out with us, but I can tell she's eager to build her own social circle. I'll miss her, but I want her to thrive, and she can't do that hanging around us all the time.

"What do you think about giving Des an allowance?" Sophia asks.

"What's an allowance?" Desiree asks.

I don't say it out loud, but I want to know too. I mean, of course I've heard of it. Kids at school used to talk about how much money they made all the time, but I never understood its purpose. If I needed money, I just asked my mom, and she gave it to me. Most of the time, she gave more than I asked for.

"It's a set dollar amount parents give their children every week for doing chores and things," Sophia says.

I feel my face shriveling in confusion.

"But...shouldn't she do chores anyway because she lives here and should help us take care of the house?" I ask.

"Well, yeah, of course she should. It's not really about paying her to do the chores. It's more about teaching fiscal responsibility. My parents gave me an allowance, and it made me feel like I had more freedom."

I understand what she's saying, but I think we could accomplish the same things without the salary. My mom didn't just hand out money when we were kids. She started that in our adulthood when we could appreciate the extra funds. She always questioned our money requests, wanting to know our plan for it and all. We'd talk about it, and sometimes she would say no because it wasn't a good idea. I think those kinds of conversations are more valuable than letting a child have their own money to buy insane amounts of candy or whatever. But what do I know? I'm just a first-time parent with limited life experience.

"If you think it's a good idea, fine," I say. "I don't think it's necessary, but I'm sure she'd enjoy it."

I look over at Desi, and she's beaming, already spending the money in her head. I really hope this is a good idea.

[zedleaked]

Happy Aro Awareness Week!!!

I don't talk about my sexuality much but I am demiromantic!! This means I don't feel romantic love a lot of the time, only when I'm extremely close to someone!

Even if I'm demiromantic I still enjoy things like cuddling and hugging and holding hands [kissing is off the table] -but only platonically,, I think you're allowed to do things like that platonically and I just love platonic love in general!!!!! And btw people don't have to be aro AND ace. People can be just aro, just ace, just demisexual, and just demiromantic. People can feel romantic feelings but not sexual feelings and people can feel sexual feelings but not romantic feelings. You don't always have to be both!

Keep reading if you wanna read about my experience with my sexuality lol [theres a bit of text]

I've been thinking about my sexuality a lot, especially since valentine's day was very recent. I always felt weird cause I never developed crushes on people and I've always been averse to having a romantic relationship with someone.I knew for a fact that I loved men and women because I still found them attractive and... had thoughts... but if I stopped to think about whether I would have a relationship with them and kiss and stuff the answer would probably be no. It's funny because when my mom would tell me I couldn't have a partner until I finished Uni I was so relieved. As a kid, I always thought it was normal to have crushes on people and I thought it was weird that I never had them so I would pick people to have a crush on despite not feeling anything for them. I thought I was just loveless... until I fell in love with one of my best friends in primary school. It happened gradually and slowly but the feelings only got stronger the more I knew them [I never made a move on them lmao] This only confused me more cause like... am I loveless or not?? I don't get it? I remember finding the term asexual but I wasn't sure if that was me. Then I found aromantic and thought I was getting closer but not on the mark. And then I found demisexual I remember seeing the definition and was like... holy shit is there an aromantic version of this I need to know- and low and behold... I found it, I finally found a term to label myself. It felt so good! I finally figured myself out! And there are others like me! it was so cool! It felt so cool to finally know that the things I was feeling was not just a me thing and was something completely normal! I felt so accomplished. I felt so awesome.

Anyways enough of my life story I just wanted to put that out because I've been thinking about my sexuality a ton and I wanted to share it I hope you enjoyed it if you bothered to read it and I hope you have a good day!!

[eevvvaa]

Hi !

SO ! I recently reached 302 followers and to thank you all for following me, I decided to follow @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone's advice and created a little challenge for you. I tried to make it as easy as possible for you to enjoy it and set free your creativity ! I picked some movies I like, chose quotes and created tropes from them for you to use in your fics.

You can either :

Mention a movie in the fic one way or another

Use a quote from a movie

Use the trope based on a movie

Do all three

You can also mix and match and pick a quote from one movie and a trope from another. Whatever gets your imagination and creativity going ! Feel free to pick what inspires you 😇

As for the fics, you can write about whoever and whatever you want. Any fictional characters or real person. I mostly read Supernatural and The Boys fanfic, but you're welcome to write about another fandom, Jensen Ackles' other characters or actor/actress if you'd like to !

Here's the list :

• Indiana Jones And The Last Crusade

Quotes :

"You lost today, kid. But that doesn't mean you have to like it.”

"You say this has been just another typical day for you huh?" "No. It's been better than most."

"Is there anyone here who speaks English? Or maybe even ancient Greek?"

"Are you crazy ? Don't go between them." "Go between them. Are you crazy ?"

Trope :

Being manipulated by/manipulating the enemy

• The Hangover

Quotes :

"What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas."

"You are literally too stupid to insult."

"Am I missing a tooth ?"

"Tigers love pepper. They hate cinnamon."

Trope :

Not remembering the night before

• Tangled

Quotes :

"You should know that this is the strangest thing I’ve ever done!"

"So, I made the decision to trust you.""A horrible decision, really."

"Let’s just assume everyone in here doesn’t like me."

"You broke my smolder!"

Trope :

Realizing someone's dream

• Back To The Future

Quotes :

"I finally invent something that works!"

"If you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything."

"I've never seen purple underwear before."

"He's a very strange young man."

Trope :

Going back in time

• Crazy Stupid Love

Quotes :

"Ew. Friend to friend. Ew."

"You think I'm the perfect combination of sexy and cute ?"

"I'm going to help you rediscover your manhood. Do you have any idea where you could have lost it ?"

"I'm wildly unhappy, and I'm trying to buy it, and it's not working."

Trope :

One Night Stand

~~~~~~~~

To participate, you just have to send me an ask with what you wanna use. You can join the celebration whenever you want and cancel your participation whenever you want too, if needed. This is supposed to be fun, easy and something enjoyable without any pressure. You're free to write anything that inspires you, in the length you want. Tag me in your fic and use #eevvvaa302celebration within your first five tags, so I can find you easily.

The no no are of course : non-con, incest... you got the idea

I'm putting the deadline at January 24th (So we can all remember the date 😉) but if you need more time, I'm cool with it !

Once again, thank you all ! Feel free to participate if you like. And if you don't, you still deserve a big kiss 💋

[anhed-nia]

PS I almost saw IN A VIOLENT NATURE for the first time at an open air screening on Governor's Island, a popular NYC destination for outdoor entertainment and close-to-home glamping. I thought that was a great idea, but ultimately I skipped it because I wanted to see the film for the first time without the light pollution and ambient noise. They made this cool graphic for it, though...which immediately triggered comments section controversy about AI.

The social media person replied that the image was not AI-generated; though the "scene" does not take place in the movie, it is a photograph of a person wearing the screen costume, just doing something fun on Governor's Island to advertise their cool event. No matter what your general feelings are about AI in commercial art, we can probably all agree that it sucks that we have to have these onerous arguments about everything now.

For me, and I think for anyone who enjoys visual art, the medium matters--not because of some imaginary hierarchy of importance, but because different media have different effects, traditions, and implications. And because, with respect to AI, the statement "This really happened!" and the question "Wouldn't it be cool IF this really happened?" inspire very different responses. My personal, casual feeling is that AI art is OK as long as it is easily identifiable as such; like I've seen some really fun AI images whose particular kind of outrageousness makes appropriate use of that specific medium. I'm a "right tool, right job" person, I think some things should be paintings and some things should be photos, some things should be stage plays and some things should be movies. You should carefully choose your medium and exploit the unique qualities of that medium based on exactly what you're trying to accomplish. For this reason I think that AI images that are just trying to fake the effects of i.e. painting or photography kind of suck. And related to that I object to living in a world where we all just have to throw up our hands and say "Oh well, there's no way to know anymore whether something is physically-real or whether it's just a hypothetical representation of something that maybe-could-be real, I guess the only thing we can do is not give a shit about where anything comes from or how it got here and what that all means." For me, "There's no way to ever know anything for sure so who fucking cares" is not an acceptable default setting. (And I realize this is becoming the central issue of our day due to all kinds internet-enabled misinformation and I'm treading on the hem of a way bigger topic here, but never mind all that now...)

But still, I find myself just as annoyed with fakery as I am with people who instantly declare something to be fake. Frankly I think those guys are just scared of being fooled and so they're trying to preserve their own sense of superiority by declaring everything to be fake before they have any evidence one way or the other. This is a very different thing in its consequences, I know, but some of these guys sound just like the bigots who go around trying to clock random strangers as trans; they always have these ridiculous lists of "evidence" that turn out to be just as applicable to afab and amab people as they are to people who have transitioned. It's all roughly the same flavor of defensiveness from people who are scared of being tricked into believing or feeling something that will turn out to be a fraud. And I can sympathize with that to some degree, I don't wanna be tricked into believing in, for instance, awesome-looking photo shoots that never happened; like if you said it wouldn't matter to you if the photos Thierry Mugler shot on top of the Chrysler Building turned out to be digital fakes, then I would happily call you a liar. But what I really hate more than anything right now is this immediate effect where as soon as anything cool-looking appears online, we all have to have these contentious arguments where insecure jerks pound their chests about how un-foolable they are...and sometimes it turns out that the "AI art" is real and so their claims to amazing powers of perception are a big embarrassment. I guess my conclusion is that if everyone agreed to make AI imagery clearly identifiable in some way, then we could all stop having our good time spoiled by this paranoid bickering that has become the prerequisite for enjoying anything. But that's probably an impossible dream.

[inconsideratekidney]

11/3/24

holy guacamole. it's been a while.

here's something from one day i wrote about:

10/28/24:

i've spent so much time trying to act like i'm someone else. i want to have everyone else's styles instead of trying to embrace whatever i am. i need to just enjoy others' styles instead of wishing and yearning to be someone cooler, more nonchalant, stylish, confident, and put-together. i need to start saying that i like someone's outfit not because i wish i looked like them, but because i really enjoy their style and presence and wish for them to know they are appreciated even if it doesn't change the way they feel, just so that i can say to myself that i liked their outfit and am not envious of how they are confident and accomplished at embracing themselves.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

growing up i always wished i was born asian or born into an asian family. i suppose having a japanese best friend whose house was really clean and family was super nice and house was cool and had 3 floors including a basement and really good snacks all the time made me want an asian family. i also assumed every japanese household was like that. i think i just wish my family was like that. who knows what my friend's family was like behind closed doors but my friend and her sister always listened to their mom and seemed to have a lot of respect for their chores and anything their mom asked. definitely not something i did....i was a good kid, i just never was able to do my chores. i also never had friends over bc we were embarrassed of our apartment when i was growing up. my mom was embarrassed and i aligned with that opinion since she wasn't happy with me having ppl over. she wouldn't let me, lets be honest, that's why i thought i didn't like it. i loved that apartment and all of its quirks, but she disliked it. so i disliked it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

having my own room across the hallway from my parents and my own bathroom is awesome. i definitely needed it for high school. in our old apartment, we only had one bathroom, one floor albeit, and i was content with that. i definitely needed my own bathroom and my own space away from my parents in high school, though. a door to slam, a bathroom to cry in at midnight, a bed to cry in at midnight far away from my parents, and a desk. for the love of all things i needed a desk in my own room that i didn't have to walk all the way through my parents' bedroom or through a living and dining room to get to. i also didn't have to put my phone away at 10PM in a separate room like i did in middle school. that was a huge perk. i could use my phone all night if i wanted to! it was my free will! i never have and don't think i ever will, though--use my phone all night or pull an all-nighter altogether.

i was close to pulling an all-nighter in first year of college, but i went to sleep at 6AM against what people advised me not to do. i turned out fine. had a shitty next day sleep-wise, but it was fiiine.

i guess i did technically pull an all-nighter in Greece, though, because of being jet-lagged. however, i don't count that since i napped and was in a different country with a time difference. it was not on purpose is my point, or wasn't my choice to say the least. we had to keep moving and make dinner reservations for crying out loud. my mother would not let us miss a reservation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i overheard a conversation on the bus [the other day]. one comment a girl made got me thinking about my own scholastic career--she was saying how as a third year honor student she feels kinda iffy or bad about not having joined any school organizations yet. i said to myself, i haven't either as a third year student, is that required for honors students or is she just saying that in general? i had no idea but it made me think of all the things i wish i would have accomplished by now. makes me wonder if ill feel like i succeeded at all of my goals for these 5 years.

looking back on this bit that i wrote last week, i have since decided that i will switch my second major to a minor because man this shit is hard. i don't care enough about research to pursue it that diligently. i would much rather have a minor where i can do all of the fun stuff and people can see that i have a minor in psychology and say, "oh, okay, she's cool, she's into psychology, but she doesn't have a degree so we can't expect her to do research as profusely." exactly what i want. i want a lower expectation or none at all. i do enjoy psychology, but it isn't really working out mental-wise or time-wise for that matter. i am going bonkers each and every day and i truly cannot waste my time like this for longer if i want to stay sane and also get my degree. i don't particularly know anyone who does stay sane throughout their entire scholastic career, though. it's a wonder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

hopefully i can be reevaluated for my ADD and actually figure out some resources within my own mind to help mitigate and manage my anxiety and racing thoughts. hopefully i will get to talk to a therapist and stop yapping the yap on here. i do enjoy writing very much, so i hope this is not eliminated. therapy isn't consistent and also won't cure me, so hold your horses cuz i'll still be here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i am so eepy. i felt bad for not posting this week because i really wanted to write this whole time, but i had wanted to finish all my late work and regular work before posting, but i still haven't finished my late work and it's sunday and i wanted to post this past week, so here you all go. it's not perfect and it's 5 days late. oopsies...but i am posting now because i enjoy it and wanted to give myself a little redo. i will do better this week, not because i have to, but because i want to. and you should too. all of y'all struggling like me, you got this and will continue to got this. we're all in this together. say it with me. okay now get to shleeping or waking up and getting your day going whenever you are reading this.

love you all,

goodnight,

kD ,':{> (mustache and eyebrows from when i was the lorax for halloween)

[idsfantasy]

Okay so, head up, I think your videos are cool and I respect the effort and work you put into theories. I also understand not every theory is going to be actually reflective of views, instead following different roads of logic to see what seems the most likely.

But the big reason why I think robot people being in the games is such a reviled concept by so many people, is that it feels like a lame twist that doesn't really accomplish anything and doesn't really go anywhere. And part of that is the source material it comes from. (Warning: long and emotive analysis incoming)

In the actual Fourth Closet book Charlie being a robot isn't handled well. She's written as a mostly normal human person with internal emotions, struggles, and thoughts only to be completely discarded because she's "not real". As soon as it's revealed, she immediately kills herself and Elizabeth with no narrative buildup, and the only possible resolution is a cliffhanger ending that is never fully explained and left up to speculation. We don't really feel the weight of this on anyone, except possibly John, who never discusses it with anyone and never actually ponders what that might mean beyond feeling bummed the girl he wanted to date is dead and also not human. It also gives Circus Baby a very needlessly convulted backstory for the sole purpose of having her run around in a humanoid form and double down on the henchwoman characterization introduced in FFPS.

It doesn't even really explain much beyond a few strange lines and wonky plot threads, it's a thing that happens and despite Charlie being a protagonist she doesn't really get to react to this.

Sammy is completely dismissed as a concept despite it being such a big deal in TSE and TTO and the whole point of Charlie's arc of acceptance and grief. And we get one line saying he's actually alive... and living with the mother Charlie herself mentions talking to in the past. It's a mess.

The only character who is made more intresting and given more weight by this reveal is Henry. Because it changes perception from "flawed man struggling with mental health but ultimately a very loving to father" to "all the above but also with those flaws much more prevalent and damaging". It's fascinating because what he does is incredibly messed up on so many levels, yet entirely understandable. Henry in the novels is a straight up antagonist, not a villian, and not actively malicious, but someone very poorly coping and causing harm by proxy. And that's reflective of a lot of people who are understandably struggling and need support, but at the same time refuse help and find themselves sinking deeper while their loved ones feel helpless. It's deeply tragic, and leaves Henry being a much more nuanced character, mainly because of the fact Charlie doesn't know quite how to feel about him. When she's still allowed to have thoughts, at least.

The whole point of the Charliebots is that grief and loss can make vulnerable people susceptible to delusion, and how that effects the children around them. Both the Charlie-bot and Circus Baby are shaped around trying to conform to a grieving parent who wants them to fill a role that at a certain point, they simply can't. The moment Charliebot stopped living past the age of three, she simply wasn't reflective of that real little girl anymore. She was someone new, based on the hopes and dreams her family had for her. The Charliebots are so so intricately linked to this theme, that I really feel removing the idea of androids from it is kinda insulting to the whole premise.

William blatantly says he couldn't build robots like that, Circus Baby is build upon a failed experiment her modified for his own use, even the Twisteds were implied to be a joint effort. He also simply didn't see his kids in the same way, I truly don't believe he would drive himself to that same point of delusion for kids he just doesn't love.

I've seen some fanauthors right really compelling narratives around these ideas, but they simply aren't in the actual texts. To approach something purely logistically is to deny to narrative and emotional potential of it.

Yes, it's 100% possible. I don't doubt Scott might try to do it. But that doesn't make it impactful. So if he doesn't want to engage with the premise outright, and doesn't say it outloud, then why should I care either? If he's not going to committ to the idea and explore it, then neither am I.

Glad you generally like my videos! And I understand that perspective, but I disagree. Honestly, I think robot people works great thematically for the modern era.

Ithink part of the interest with Charlie being a robot is that she's a robot, but she IS alive. She's not the original Charlie, but because of Henry's emotions she has her own soul.

With William, his goal iirc wasn't to create a human *looking* robot. His goal was to find a way to create that same spark of life that Henry did, but he wasn't able to. Elizabeth was the closest but she's still an actual human soul inside a robot.

When I suggest that robot people are present in the modern games, I don't think they were made out of love, and I don't think they have that artificial soul that Charlie in the books had, hence the connections to CC and Elizabeth. Heck, we know for a fact that there are robot people present in Tales, so why would that be impossible in the games? The issue wasn't making a human looking robot, it was giving said robots life.

Just because we can't see the end goal at the moment doesn't mean there isn't one. Additionally, assuming Scott isn't going to engage with the premise or saying it out loud is probably something to steer clear of. After all, the main evidence I use for Gregbot isn't the weird vision or him looking like the Crying Child, but the wall code in the Sister Location room that describes Gregory in SB to a T while also saying "I built the breath they hunt drawn to life not real still keen" etc. That seems pretty "out loud" to me given the obscurity of most things in these games tbh.

So I do think Scott has committed to the idea. That's why there are 3 robot people in Tales. That's why there are 2 Vanessas. That's why there's the wall code in SB. To me, it seems as though the themes of Help Wanted and onward are highlighting where the line is drawn between the real and the artificial, the virtual and genuine. And imo, having characters who blur the line between the mechanical world and the real and the spiritual adds pretty well to that whole theme. We just haven't seen everything play out yet since we're only partway through the arc.

I understand if you disagree, but I think writing it off as something to consider would be the wrong move personally. Hope you have a nice day :D