#it's actually so weird to think that I started a goal of reading the whole series ad it was now officially coming out like this back in 201

[buttercupshands]

rewatched Kurogiri's holiday story from ultra impact (not related to sketch at all)

(but it did inspire me)

on another note

finally!!

[toonheartz]

i don't like how one of the types of my relationships with people is "i am studying you intensely" like i look back and go wow! this sounds. kinda creepy actually.

i'm just weirdly analytical about people. catch 22 of if i wasnt mentally ill i'd be a psychologist. but i wouldn't be so interested in psychology if i wasn't mentally ill lmao

[llamagoddessofficial]

May I have some Fae Killer dating headcanons?

Fae Killer is... weird

He's extremely hard to get a read on. At least the other Winter courtiers are easy to make sense of - Dust is quiet and serious, Horror is big and scary but shy, Nightmare is regal and refined with an undercurrent of rage. They make sense.

Killer? He's violent, but he's always got a friendly grin. He has the same "who, me?" expression whether he's eating a cookie or murdering someone. His backstory is unknown, changing every time someone asks. He appears to speak genuinely and openly, yet no one can trust a single word that comes out of his mouth. His knack for tricking and stealing is unparalleled, he tricks people out of things as small as their eye colour or as huge as their ability to breathe, all with the exact same 'silly' easygoing aura. He rescues stray cats from the cold and brings them into the castle, feeding them fish and chicken every day, but he also delights in torturing people he doesn't like.

Perhaps the only consistent thing about him is how obviously he's in love with you.

Even before dating him, his affection is blatant. He acts like he wants to be your best friend, your closest confidant, he's always looking for reassurance that he's your 'favourite'. The other skeletons will tell you that he doesn't shut up about you when you're not there. He's constantly outrageously flirting - he seems to show love through stealing from you, taking minor things like your ability to read the word 'strawberry', just so you'll get mad at him (it's obvious he thinks you're hot when you're mad). You're always covered in black marks and he laughs at almost everything you say.

When you do start dating him, he just... stops tricking you. Stops stealing from you, too. There's no warning, and no clear reason; you're just suddenly the only person in any world who's safe from his trickery. You could say something that leaves you wide open and the guy who could steal someone's nose from their face will act like he heard/saw nothing.

He's cuddly. So, so cuddly. It's actually kinda cute, when he's sleepy and aggressively snuggly with you. Kinda feels like he's been starved of affection, and he's making up for it by never letting you go.

No matter where you fall asleep, you'll wake up to Killer cuddled up. Probably a few of his cats piled in as well.

His number 1 goal is to get you laughing. There's always jokes, always remarks, it's so hard to be serious around him because he knows exactly what'll get you giggling. That's worth more to him than all the treasures in Summer and Winter.

He's generally an easygoing datemate, he has outlets for his jealousy. But he takes EXTREME offence to another fae stealing something from you. That means immediate violence.

This man will kill for you. In fact, he'll offer that option alarmingly quickly. Please ask him not to kill for you, for everyone else's safety.

His romantic side is dialled up to eleven. You're always coming home to mood lighting and surprise dinners, he's always taking you to beautiful scenic spots he's found in the Winter realm, he gives you things that remind him of you (typically flowers and gemstones, but sometimes magical artefacts, and occasionally something rather expensive that looks like it was stolen right from the Summer realm).

He's constantly wearing a 'happy' face. But sometimes, in private, the face falls. You can glimpse the part of himself he hides from everyone. If you can still hold him when he's not funny anymore, when the mask has fallen off... then he will burn down the whole world for you.

[rederiswrites]

I wrote this out for FB and then thought I might as well share it here as well. So if you have ADHD, are a late-diagnosed adult with ADHD, and most particular if you are a person with a uterus and/or have children, this one might be for you.

...

Last couple of days have been a little...weird. Let's start at the beginning. Buckle up and learn something.

As many of you already know, I have ADHD. It's a condition with a PR problem--a lot of people, often even medical professionals, have a very distorted idea of what it does, and a very limited one. For starters, it's not about parenting, or lead paint, or lack of discipline. It's genetic, *highly* heritable, starts in childhood and persists throughout life, and is a sufficiently severe disability that it comes with a decrease in life expectancy of up to 13 years. It is a visible difference that can be perceived in brain scans. These are all, at this point, well established and thoroughly attested in the scientific literature. ADHD affects up to 5% of the population and appears across cultures. It is very common.

It's not just about lack of attention--in fact, plenty of medical professionals think the name should be changed, as in fact the problem isn't the volume of attention but the way we struggle to direct it. We are motivated by interest, and struggle to properly weight future goals and consequences, specifically because they are in the future. If the robin outside the window is more immediately rewarding to our brain, we will watch that, and not the teacher. Our ability to properly weigh the consequences of that choice is negatively impacted by our own biochemistry.

We struggle with many of what are termed the "executive functions", the self management systems of the brain. Degree and presentation varies from person to person, but initiating tasks, completing tasks, staying ON task, restraining impulses, emotional regulation, and working memory are among the things impacted. My working memory is notoriously horrible. When they send you those activation codes on your phone? I often have to go back and read them out several times to enter a six digit number. I have to stop and remind myself what I'm doing between every step of my morning bathroom routine, or making tacos. Sometimes I take off my glasses to put on my contacts, reset, and reach for my pill bottles while I still can't see. My long-term memory is also affected, with my husband de facto serving as the memory-holder of the family.

Another common symptom I personally experience is "time blindness", which can mean both that you have no "internal clock" that has a clear idea of the passage of time, and that our ability to properly weight the importance of things in the future is impacted. So, for example, I can know intellectually what's coming, but it takes some really complex and exhausting antics to actually focus and work on those things if they're more than a week or sometimes even a couple days away.

Without externally imposed controls, many ADHD people flounder and fail to meet social markers of success. Estimates of how many ADHD people manage to complete college range from 5% to 15%. Again: 5% to 15%! I have failed twice myself. WITH externally imposed controls, ADHD people often have to work far harder to make their brains do what is required, and either fail and develop an image of themselves as failures (usually with plenty of external help), or keep fighting and suffer crippling burnout.

To that point, ADHD is HIGHLY comorbid with a whole range of knock-on conditions, some of which stem from the same brain patterns that give rise to the ADHD itself, and others from the trauma of living with a disability, but they include very high rates of depression, anxiety, fibromyalgia, social isolation, and addiction. I have dealt with depression, anxiety, and fibromyalgia my entire adult life. I have never ended up in the trap of self-medication but let's be real, that's partly about having supports and a healthy social environment. It's not some accomplishment I praise myself for, nor is addiction a sin I shame anyone for.

And anxiety has a very different texture to it when what you're really anxious about is the next time you fail in some catastrophic way. Lock your keys in the car. Completely space on a doctor's appointment. Go to pay for groceries and find that your wallet is next to your computer at home. Because the anxiety is not irrational fear of some generalized bad thing. These things do and will happen, regularly. Sometimes it feels like the only fix is getting good at recovering. Because no matter how many times you manage not to blow it, there's always another chance.

So, the struggle to be a reliable person, to be a consistent parent, to be a dependable life partner, is continuous. And it is so so so hard and it sometimes feels like you're not actually making any progress at all. I have tried therapy. I have tried three (or four??) different non-stimulant medications that sometimes help people. One of them DID help. ALL of them had catastrophic side effects. There were times as I was trialing these medications when I needed to be minded because I wasn't capable of taking care of anything, not even myself. Without Jacob, I don't know where I'd be. Not here. Probably in poverty, which is where he found me.

I have tried probably most organizational tools you know of. I have tried imposing schedules, all of which turned to dust and ash when the next fibromyalgia flareup or the next major life disruption happened. I don't think a new schedule has ever lasted a month before.

I HAVE felt like I'm made progress lately. I learned things that really helped my fibromyalgia, which gave me the space to work on other things--just like getting the borders of a puzzle finished. Enough things were spiraling upwards, and I think I might be cementing some gains. I have felt optimistic.

But in the meantime, I asked my doctor if, now that no less than three cardiologists have insisted my heart is Perfectly Healthy, I could finally try stimulant medications. After decades of use, Adderall, Ritalin, and a couple related stimulant drugs are still the gold standard for ADHD treatment and improve outcomes substantially for many people. And stimulants are in serious international shortage. Have been for many months. The only one she thought she could get me was Adderall. And she didn't dare try anything but the standard 30mg because nonstandard dosages would be even less attainable.

So now I'm taking Adderall. One week on 30mg, which I stopped when it was clear my function was being seriously impaired rather than improved. Reassessed with the doctor, now trying 60mg, because that's two of the pills I've already managed to obtain. It is....too much. And in some ways it fixes problems I wasn't working on, while so far making my executive function, my initiation or even *contemplation* of tasks, virtually nonexistant. Which was, of course, the thing I was trying to fix.

So yeah. When you have the context, I figure you can understand the substance of my frustration yourself. If you have children, I don't think you need my help to imagine what it would be like to know that you are unpredictable, or to see that your children are used to to you undergoing events that make you act strangely and erratically. I think just knowing that often, new medications introduce themselves by giving me a migraine, and I know this is possible when I take that first pill, is fairly self-explanatory. And so I expect you can imagine what it would be like, with all of this as a backdrop, to experience worsening of your symptoms, probably because of age-related hormonal changes. To in desperation try something you'd previously been denied. And to learn that it probably won't help.

In a week, I will either give up on Adderall for now or find a way to make it work. I'll put together the pieces yet again--at this point, possibly my strongest personal skill--and continue that upward climb as far as I can get. I'm incredibly fortunate in that regardless, I will be fed and dry and warm and loved. But right now, I feel justified in some serious dismay.

[lupinqs]

hi hi hi!!!!!!! with the end of take me to church right around the corner, i want y’all to vote on which upcoming series you’d like to see first. imma be honest my favorite is the second one but i have so much lore for all of them that it would be easy for me to write any!!! vote pls!!!!

WNBA Paige x Upper East Side Princess OC:

paige plays for the liberty; she’s in her rookie season

oc is in her last year of college at columbia—her parents are very rich (like billionaire type rich) and she’s grown up on the upper east side

enemies to lovers hella because oc is a bitch lowkey and paige def matches that energy towards oc

despite being so young, oc also already has a fiancé that she’s kinda been expected to end up with her whole life because he’s a family friend and the son of another rich millionaire/billionaire but they’re more just friends if anything

oc’s finacé’s parents are huge funders towards NY sports (including the liberty) which is kinda why oc and paige see each other a lot

oc’s parents def don’t approve so angst there too

oc is also an ex basketball player who was forced out of the sport at a young age despite being talented and paige kinda helps her get back into the sport and start loving it again because at the beginning oc HATES basketball

very reminiscent of gossip girl

UCONN Paige x Teammate OC:

paige is in her junior year, oc a freshman (only a year and a half age gap yall don’t be weird)

oc was the number-one recruit in her class coming into college just like paige was so she’s got a lotta pressure on her

paige and oc are roommates

oc tore her ACL her junior year of high school so when paige tears her, oc is there for her because she’s been in that position before—paige and oc have had a lot of similar experiences which makes them really understand each other

paige really channels her inner coach p into oc because oc is gonna have to have a huge role in this season due to paige’s absence and then even more so with azzi’s injury

oc also has had a bf for like ever and i’m saying she’s been in love with this boy since she was a kid because they lived next door to each other—that type of thing. so oc has never even really thought about being gay or liking girls because she’s always been so infatuated with that boy but when she and him start having problems because he’s at a different college and when paige starts comforting her through that and she and paige start spending more time with each other, oc starts… realizing lots of things about herself and her feelings

lots of self-discovery

end goal is for paige to basically coach and encourage oc and team to a natty

WNBA Paige x Ex-Bestfriend Actress OC:

paige plays for the sparks; she’s in her rookie year

oc is a well-known and successful actress

paige and oc were childhood best friends (yes ik i just did this with tmtc) and had a hella homoerotic friendship that ends up falling apart paige’s first year of college after …. certain events

oc is more open about her sexuality but paige has always been very overthinking about it and has severe internalized homophobia which helps lead to the crumbling of their friendship before

oc has been really really successful these past few years in the acting industry; her first movie came out in paige’s sophomore year of college which was sort of a wake up call for her then because she hadn’t even known that her best friend was actually legit in acting now

paige’s junior year college is when she realizes that yeah, she is gay and she was in love with oc basically her whole childhood but she’s ruined it and she doesn’t even think she has a chance anymore

paige is completely chill and confident within herself and her sexuality by her senior year of college

anyways in the present oc and paige meet again at some after party in la and it’s so weird for paige because oc seems so confident and at ease and she’s with all these famous people now but she used to be so shy and reserved

cameron brink and oc’s best friend are good friends and since paige and oc’s closest friends in la are good friends, they start running into each other a lot more

lots of angst fs and learning the new versions of each other vs remembering the ones they grew up with

[emphasisonthehomo]

Twitch Streamer Tommy, because apparently I still have thoughts on him being one of those dudes who's into Flight Simulator.

Buck mostly starts out watching the streams because Christopher watches streams. Buck and Eddie have had discussions with Chris about how much info he should be sharing with strangers on the internet, it was a whole thing. Chris can watch them without being monitored, neither of them are helicopter parents, but Buck does in general keep tabs on them. Because he's constantly reading shit about someone w/ fame on the internet taking advantage of it.

There's a variety to the ones that Chris watches, but all of of them are for games that he already plays. Except one. Some guy called REMOVEB4FLIGHT and it's straight up just Flight Simulator content. There's not a ton of consistency to when the guy streams, it's all over the place schedule wise. Maybe once or twice a month, and he's clearly not a Professional Streamer™ so much as a guy with a hobby. His set up is crazy though.

And sometimes Christopher watches them when Buck is in eyesight, and yeah. Buck won't lie. He's interested. He became legitimately invested when REMOVEB4FLIGHT sat down and simulated a flight from JFK International Airport to Singapore Changi Airport, and it was just under 19 hours.

Buck didn't watch the entire thing, don't be stupid. But he did watch the last 4 hours which... Shut up. It should have been boring, but there was enough going on between the chat and REMOVEB4FLIGHT that it wasn't.

And it was also cute. The guy was cute. He was already obviously tired by the time Buck and Christopher started watching, and as he got more tired he got gigglier and gigglier. Explaining that "No. No pilots will ever fly 19 hours straight, I'm just doing it because I thought it'd be a fun challenge and oh nooooo do I regret it. My only goal is to be coherent enough to not crash land this A350."

The plane does not crash land and at the end, REMOVEB4FLIGHT runs his hands through his curly hair, laughs in exhaustion, and says "Great, I'm gonna go sleep for 12 hours because I've got a shift in 14. BYE."

And Buck keeps watching after that, when he can. There's something calming about it, in a weird way. It's both is and isn't ASMR. Any ASMR is absolutely on accident, but the guy has a really nice set up, a really nice mic. And a really nice voice. And a really nice face. He explains in detail what he's doing and why, like he's giving a casual lesson on How To Fly.

Buck learns that the his name is Tommy, and he is actually a pilot but he flies helicopters and that's "-the only other information you need about my day job."

Not all of Tommy's streams are 19 hours, though they're still long. A lot of them are him being like "What's the weirdest place I can land this thing?" or messing around in multiplayer. Maybe something where he tries to recreate relatively famous crash landings, like one day he goes "We're Gimli Gliding it today" and he does crash pretty badly the first time, but he gets it on the second.

It becomes a thing Buck and Christopher talk about, because they both keep up with it. Chris starts pestering Eddie to get him a joystick and pedals to play Flight Simulator, but those aren't exactly cheap so Eddie promises it for xmas. Buck is already stewing over how to potentially adjust settings and shit to make sure that the inclusion of foot pedals isn't an issue for Chris, etc etc.

Sometimes when Buck is part of the Chat Conglomerate Tommy comments on something he's said. It makes him giddy. It's difficult to describe. He just likes this guy. This guy's cool. Buck's getting attention from someone on the internet, sue him. He likes it.

And then the drama with the cruise ship. Buck doesn't think anything of it when Chimney reaches out to an old friend named Tommy, because why would he? It's a common enough name. But then Buck walks into Harbor Station and comes face to face with REMOVEB4FLIGHT and oh. Oh shit.

[joltai-showa]

still thinking about Obito's tendencies to hang upside down so why not talk about something even more funny

now Obito is obviously trolling the Konoha squad in that moment, acting like a complete idiot and weirdo and all, usual stuff for Tobi. Obito is being a weird little bat on purpose, it's all an act

you know who among Akatsuki, a very scary and a totally serious organization, also acted like a weird little bat, but without it all being an act?

allow me to introduce you to the final page of chapter 238

Kishimoto, why is Deidara's first appearance is him being upside down during Akatsuki's zoom meeting?

(which is supposedly the first one in 7 years since Orochimaru ditched them, but whatever, no fucking way these guys can remain semi-organized without a good old online meetup, I do not care for canon's opinion when it conflicts with my funny headcanons)

But seriously, it's been almost 10 years since I read the manga for the first time and there's still no explanation as to why Deidara did that LMAO. Logic dictates that it's simply Kishimoto not finishing up the designs for his new villains (rinnegan's design wasn't finalized until, like, Akatsuki Supression arc, I believe? there's someone TOWERING over Kisame who is 195cm already and at the end of the day remains Akatsuki's tallest member, etc etc), but I've got a PhD in overthinking Naruto details and turning them into shitposts that sometimes also turn into fanfiction, so I will take this one tiny detail and make myself laugh until I cry.

To me this moment is just so precious because it's actually a scene from OG Naruto, meaning that it's pre-timeskip, so Deidara here is only 16. And this just proves to me that Deidara's puberty (there is no exact indicator as to when Deidara was abducted recruited into Akatsuki, but I assume it happened sometime when he was 12, because during his recruitment we see Itachi (and we know that he joined Akatsuki after the massacre, so he was 13 and he's got a 2 year difference with Deidara), Kisame (who, judging by his pre-death flashbacks, joined AFTER Itachi, meaning some time had to have passed since the massacre) and Sasori (who wouldn't have a partner after Itachi joined because Orochimaru just couldn't resist trying to get that Sharingussy, but Akatsuki don't operate on their own in general, so I doubt Sasori would have been left without a partner for a long time, a year max) and during this zoom meeting 16-year-old Deidara speaks like he's very much aligned with Akatsuki's goals and grudges which would be very weird if he joined them against his will just recently, so a year or more would have to pass between Deidara's recruitment and the OG Naruto zoom meeting) was arguably one of the worst things that organization as a whole had to go through because teenage Deidara was JUST BUILT DIFFERENT.

Don't mind the fact that even as an adult he starts tweaking if he doesn't get to explode something every few hours (I would imagine that teenage rage and angst would only exacerbate this issue), but he would also just want to "look cool" and wouldn't listen to anyone in any position of authority AT ALL. Going back to this scene of Akatsuki's zoom call, we can see (and for certain characters assume because once again designs here are kind of wack) that these overly serious members like Pain, Konan, Kakuzu and Sasori are PRESENT and just... don't do anything about Deidara's antics? They just gave up at some point LMAO. And a while ago, I presume.

16-year-old Deidara, proud and puffed up as a lion: You can stay on the ground as boring old men you are, but I'm going to hang upside down today, hm!

Pain, the acting leader of this very serious and lethal organization that for some reason took in a 13-year-old and a 12-year-old because, I dunno, the real leader thought it would be funny, sighing: okay, Deidara...

I also don't believe that it was ever specified how Nagato's zoom jutsu works, but I think Akatsuki's members simply sit in whatever position they want and their projection is different from their actual position which means that. yeah. Deidara does a bat cosplay. because he wants to. baby why are you like that.

but I also like to imagine Deidara actually hanging on the ceiling during the meetup and the gang just going

Pain: Sasori, can't you grab a mop or something and swat him off of there?

Sasori, in the most dead inside voice imaginable: you are not paying me enough to do that. in fact, you would not last a minute in the asylum I'm living in. you can't give me 40 minutes of peace, can you?

honestly props to Onoki for finding a way to both continue using Deidara's skills for his goals (by just fucking paying Akatsuki and calling it a day) and keep the village intact, teenage Deidara just seems like the trial version of what Akatsuki members could expect on their missions. like, if you can't manage the stress of dealing with the (pony)tailed beast, you have no business trying to fight an actual tailed beast.

I'm also thinking that adult Deidara aka Shippuden Deidara would think himself really cringe for doing this shit when he was younger and feels kind of embarrassed in front of the other members (who unfortunately besides Hidan were there to witness his cringe bat phase of growing up in your local terrorist daycare organization), so he's pretty quiet during the zoom meetings when we get properly introduced to him.

That's, of course, until Deidara gets partnered with Tobi.

I can imagine the two of them competing who can last longer hanging upside down and now Pain really can't do anything to stop this bullshit because it's his actual boss and his clueless partner making their own bat nest during their zoom meeting. He just tiredly glances over at Konan who gives him a "I told you Yahiko was right and we shouldn't have joined forces with this guy, but when do you ever listen to me" look.

The gang would be discussing something like Kakuzu and Hidan brutally murdering Asuma (who's Obito's classmate btw and whose mother he already killed a while ago) and trying to steal his corpse to sell for some cash and in the background above them Tobi'll be yelling something like "senpai, watch what I can do" and start turning cartwheels on the ceiling.

tl;dr Obito and Deidara match each other's freak when it comes to doing weird shit for no apparent reason other than to fuck with everyone while on the job. thanks for coming to my TobiTalk

[changbinsboobs]

Can you do skz as husbands next ??

Skz as Husbands series : Chan

Ohhhh boy...ya'll are not going to like this. Idk if i myself am shocked or not surprised...but literary ALL of the cards are BAD, and i kept on drawing and drawing more hoping at least one good will come out but...🥲 sadly all of them are pretty weird.

That being said i am reading current energy not current energy, and im not getting AT ALL vibes from chan for wanting to get settled down anytime soon. All of his focus is on his career and goals and ambitions etc and theres just no place left for a family.

So i guess it makes sense that all of the cards are really negative as it's just not his time now. I do feel potential in him tho (after some therapy and probably retirement).

Im just gonna go ahead and start with the 9oS which tells me that being a husband and the head of the family will put IMMENSE pressure on him with which he cannot deal with. I think he makes it much bigger in his mind and lets doubts, paranoia, stress etc get the best of him and im seeing him actually having pretty hesitant thoughts on marriage for that time being just for that same reason. I think he's a guy that sees this as a very serious job (can imagine him picking that up from his dad) and its nothing to be taken lightly and as i said it gets very twisted and exaggerated in his head and takes the best of him. If he were to get married right now, he would change very quickly from what his s/o has seen from him and take a huge turn for the worse and put forward his shadow side. Im seeing lots of toxic coping mechanisms too which very conveniently leads me to the next card.

The 3oC usually a nice card but not in this case, especially because of the heavy display of alcohol - im seeing him wanting to escape the crushing weight of his responsibilities and looking for that escape in the face of alcohol & shady friends that may be just too immature and bachelory-mindseted and have a bad influence on him. I can see him missing for nights on end, which also relates to the 5oP as well and him giving...no having to be forced to give the bare minimum, and him even struggling to do that, and twisting it all to look like the victim. But more on that card at the end. So as i was saying im seeing him being very absent a lot of the time, not only because of work but because he's out and about with his friends. Im not really getting cheating from the cards - but im getting heavy vibes of a similar setting where temptation is just around the corner and him just living as if he had no family back at home waiting for him. This - once again very conveniently ties to the next card😂

Which is the 5oW. Im seeing lots of fight, probably initially starting because of his prolonged missing and eventually moving on to different things. Im seeing fights escalating very quickly, starting very quickly, being very exhausting and very damaging. To the relationship, to both their mental health and to some random objects nearby👀

With The Fool im seeing him being way too immature for something like this at this current point and it shows pretty well on the card - he's just not in the right state of mind for this chapter of his life and if it were to happen it will bring out his unreadiness and immaturity forth even more - to show where he has to work on to be ready for that next stage.

And back to the 5oP again, aside from him having to be forced to give the bare minimum and him even failing at that - he very skillfuly turns it out to look as if he's the attacked one, as if he's the bullied one, as if his wife's the one who's starving him and making him out to be the bad guy and he just feels really bullied by the whole situation and behaves that way and expresses himself that way so i would say - a huge victim complex.

Overall i would say this reading was more of a "chans toxic defence and cooing mechanisms if he were put into the corner" reading, which is kinda sad cuz that doesn't really give much insight as to what he would be like as a husband cuz what we just saw wasn't really chan but his "alter ego" that protects him in a way. Yk we all have that one side of us that takes over as if on autopilot when we feel threatened in any way. I think that would be the same for chan, and if he were to feel comfortable with the idea of marriage and feel ready for that, the reading would be way way different. But i find future readings to not be much of my thing cuz thats way to unreliable cuz energy can change in so many ways, theres so many different outcomes... but we'll see how the other readings turn out and if all the guys have weird current energies that don't really answer what they'll be like as proper husband i may try a future reading.

[graceylacey]

is laios touden happy?

I keep coming back to the question that a lot of Dungeon Meshi (manga) fans seem to be asking: is Laios happy at the end?

My two cents on this is: well, yeah. He actually is.

He’s sacrificed a lot, it seems, far more than all of the other characters. He’s the driving force behind the reason they survived to save Falin - through eating the monsters. Only in the end, he’s not able to explore dungeons, be near monsters (RIP his special interest) or even eat without feeling 30% empty. It’s a real tough bargain.

But that’s the whole point. And that loss makes the story so much more impactful to me.

When talking with the Winged Lion at the end, Laios’ true desires appear. But we can see through Mithrun, Thistle and Marcille’s time as Dungeon Lords that The Winged Lion seems to expose really selfish wishes that, whilst having good intent, don’t end up benefiting others the way the Dungeon Lord wants.

Obvious as it may seem, Laios’ true main wish IS to save Falin over the course of his storyline. It’s what drives him despite having other, arguably impossible, desires that he longs for.

Even though Laios wishes to become a monster, this desire has never overtaken his motivation in any other part of the narrative.

Yes, he loses a lot. But he’s gained Falin.

It seems obvious, but that’s the key to why I think this is a good ending for him. It’s about sacrifice. Itsusumi is a great microcosm for this - you have to do things you don’t want to do, eat things you don’t want to eat. You also have to give up things you don’t want to in order to gain more.

The similarity between Dungeon Meshi and Fullmetal Alchemist (manga) is wonderful to me. Both stories explore the giving and taking of life and the goals of our lives. 

At FMA’s conclusion, Ed sacrifices his ability to do alchemy; the reason the whole story started. It cost him and Al so much, but also helped them recover what they’d lost and literally save the world (are we starting to see the similarity?). Whenever I reread FMA, it’s sometimes hard watching Ed give up all his talent and everything he worked towards. What does he have without it? But for him, in that moment, it’s not such a difficult price to pay to get his brother back.

Maybe Laios is not aware of how much he would lose when he defeats the Winged Lion. But we do know he wants his friends and Falin to be saved, even if he dies. But that’s the thing! Both he and Falin are prepared to die to save their loved ones, but what about being prepared to LIVE to save their loved ones?

In our lives, we won’t often be sacrificing our lives for people, but we might be faced with a choice to give up things we love for people we love. Losing his life would be the easy way out (a great example of this is through Mithrun. It takes conscious effort to live. It seems so much simpler to die). Losing your dreams is hard, but that’s what it ended up costing for the safety of not just Laios’ friends but the world. He made that choice, now he must live with it. Even if he’s not fully happy at the end of the narrative, he still can be. You can be happy without having everything you desperately desire. That’s Dungeon Meshi.

Dungeon Meshi’s theme of neurodivergence fit into this really well. Personally, I think Laios is the perfect person to become King, possibly because he doesn’t think he should be. We know it’s not necessarily what he wants to do most. Heck, we know he doesn’t even like people that much and they don’t even seem to like him. But that’s what will make him the perfect candidate. Unlike others, he doesn’t have some high and mighty vision of becoming revolutionary at the end, nor does he have misconceptions about his abilities. He is genuinely righteous and humble, whilst having his flaws.

Laios knows what it’s like to feel different, outcasted by the world. But despite being awkward, strange, having weird interests and an inability to read social cues; people that once hated him ultimately end up having his back. There are bound to be others like him in his world (and ours), who don’t feel like they belong within humanity. People that would want a benevolent leader who genuinely cares and is enthused about things that don’t fit the norm because he doesn’t either.

It’s not his dream job but I believe he will eventually settle into it. We see this in the extra chapter where he willingly gives up his sword. That hit me hard. It felt a bit like a betrayal, like he was giving up who he was and everything he had worked for. But maybe it just shows that it’s okay that he couldn’t achieve all his desires. At least now Falin can achieve hers, and wasn’t that his fear for so long? That she would be lost and alone without him?

But now, because of Laios, Falin has the ability to choose her own path. She can choose make to leave as he once left her without the fear and guilt that Laois felt with his own departure. It shows both of them that it’s okay for them to take separate paths. They can grow and change and love each other from wherever they are. That protection, that survival and that connection between people is at the heart of Dungeon Meshi to me.

Both Laios and Falin choose to live. When Laios eats the Winged Lion’s appetite and Falin returns it’s down to their own decision. The choice to eat; the choice to experience life the way it was intended, with all its thorns. When they eat the monstrous parts of themselves they choose to be human, they choose the consequences of life, they choose to change and to go forwards. They are two sides of the same coin.

It seems only just that after all Laios has been through and after all we’ve seen him do, he should be allowed a perfect happy ending. But that’s just not Dungeon Meshi, is it?

There will always be sacrifices. Dungeon Meshi is not just about accepting life and death, but also accepting the possibility that you may not achieve everything you want, that things will not always go to plan but that you can always achieve other things despite this. 

Laios has made his choice to become King. Just like the choice to eat, it’s another part of life and of moving forward. Think of all the good he could do. I think he can be happy. That’s life.

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter six : torment (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.1k

summary : you confront the mandalorian

warnings, etc. : language, smut, vaginal fingering, p in v sex, teasing, lowkey brief orgasm denial, din djarin is a little shit, helmet stays on

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

Okay, maybe you didn’t think this through. 

You didn’t think he’d actually come in and now suddenly the door is shut and you’re alone with him. You’re always alone with him, why is this any different than the days upon days you’ve spent together completely alone in the library? 

Well… the library isn’t dimly lit. 

And the library definitely doesn’t have a bed. 

Why did you invite him in? What was the end goal with such a stupid and impulsive decision? What the hell did you want? 

Him. That much is obvious, no point dancing around that fact anymore. 

But it’s purely sexual.

Obviously.

Nothing else. 

You’re friends. That’s it. You’re friends and sometimes you just so happen to have brief sexual fantasies about him. Can that really be considered cheating? Is it cheating if you didn’t want to be married in the first place? If you didn’t have a choice in the matter? If he’s a disgusting slob of a man? 

It doesn’t matter because you aren’t going to do anything.

Then why did you invite him in? 

Maker, you're an idiot. 

A stupid, stupid horny idiot. 

He’s just standing there. You should say something, but you waited too long and now it’s weird. This whole thing is weird. You invited him in as friends, you’re friends after all. You spend all day in the gardens together as friends, you read together in comfortable silence as friends, you hold each other intimately on the floor of empty hallways to reassure yourselves that the other is okay as friends, you think about him when you touch yourself as friends. Kriff you need to do something, you can’t just stand across from each other in silence. Do what feels natural, you’re friends, friends are comfortable around each other. What would you be doing if he wasn’t here? Get ready for bed. 

You turn to the dresser to start looking for a night gown, but you can feel the way his visor is trained on you, burning into your skin, so you grab the first thing you can find, barely looking at it and tossing it on the bed. Finally turning to look at him. 

“I’m just gonna change real quick…” You whisper it, no sense speaking any louder than that, you know he’ll hear it. He simply nods, turning to face the wall, it’s the first time he’s moved since he walked in. 

You go to summon Elaine and Lysa but stop yourself. How the hell would you explain him being here this late? It isn’t worth the trouble, you can get out of a dress yourself. 

Except you can’t. 

You were wearing one of the overcomplicated blue gowns you wore on days where you saw Kodo and you’re struggling to undo the bodice. 

Fuck.

This is fine. You’ll just stay in this until he leaves. When is he going to leave? Usually someone leaves when they are done doing what they came to do but with seemingly no objective here there’s no logical reason for him to leave. 

“You can turn around.” Gods, you’re embarrassing. He doesn’t speak for a moment as he turns and stares at you. 

“You’re stuck.” He says it so plainly that you know he’s certain that’s the case. You wish he would make fun of you. This would be so much easier if he was taunting you, like he usually was. You could hate him and send him away. But it’s getting harder to hate him by the minute. 

“It’s fine.” 

“I could help?” It’s a question. He doesn’t often ask for permission with you. But he won’t do this without your permission. Why should he need permission, this is innocent enough, he’s just helping you out. 

Friends help each other. That’s what they do. So you turn around so he can unlace it for you. And he’s on you before you have a chance to move somewhere else, anywhere else, but it’s too late. Without even realizing it you’ve put the two of you in front of the mirror. Well at least it can’t get worse than this.

But it does.

Because he takes off the gloves. And you can see his hands as he gives them to you to hold. Tan, calloused, littered with scars. You only get a glimpse, but it’s enough for you to realize that the hands you imagined him having don’t compare to the real thing. They’re big, you could tell that from the gloves but you hadn’t expected them to be so defined. You could write a million stupid romance novels about the vast ridges of his knuckles, or the veins that spread across them. 

Maker you’re so fucked. 

You can feel the dress loosening as he meticulously pulls each ribbon free, you wish it were possible to watch him do it. Instead you’re stuck staring at your stupid dumbfounded expression in the mirror, intently observing him until he finishes and immediately steps back and turns around. 

You wish he had taken his time. 

But you quickly slip out of the dress and don the nightgown on the bed. For Makers sake could you have grabbed a skimpier outfit? It’s practically lingerie. You reach for the silk robe hanging on the mirror and try to make yourself look as covered as possible.

“I’m decent.” You hate how small your voice sounds. He turns again and you give him his gloves back, drinking in one final glimpse of his hands. 

You need to talk about what happened. Just get it out of the way. 

“We should talk about it.” You take a step towards him but he flinches back, just a hair. It’s off putting to watch such an imposing man react like that so you stop dead in your tracks. 

“Nothing happened.” It’s gut-wrenching to hear his voice sounding so strained. It took weeks for him to warm up to you and in an instant he had put those walls back up.

“Don’t do that.” Gods, at least try to sound less like a wounded little girl.

“I’m not doing anything.” You want to rip that stupid modulator out of his helmet for making his voice sound so cold. 

“So I’m just supposed to pretend like you weren’t hyperventilating on the floor a few minutes ago?” The sympathy you had for him is rapidly depleting as you take another step towards him, trying not to raise your voice. 

“Yes. That is exactly what you’re going to do.” 

“No.”

“No?” The anger in his voice is palpable. Good. You want him to get fired up, you want to fight about this because at least you’ll be talking about it. 

“No. We aren’t going to ignore this, we are going to have a conversation about it because you scared the hell out of me.” He scoffs, it’s sharp coming through the filter. 

“You’re fine.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest.

It’s like the night you met. He’s standing in the middle of the room. A cold, unmoving statue of Beskar, and you, the scared little girl, charting unfamiliar waters. 

“ You weren’t.” You furrow your brows as you say it. The visor is trained on you but you’re sure he isn’t looking at you. “You couldn’t even move. It was like you couldn’t see me and I was right in front of you.” The chill that runs down your spine lets you know that he’s looking at you now that you’ve said that. He takes a long stride towards you and you hold your ground, tilting your head up to keep your eyes on his helmet.

“Why are we still talking about this?” His voice is so low it’s practically a rumble.

“Because we’re friends and friends talk about these things!” 

“We aren’t friends.”

Ouch. 

Well you should have seen that coming. Of course he wasn’t your friend, you can’t believe you were naive to ever think that he would be, he was probably just humoring you. Now you’re the one who can’t look at him as you stare at the floor, feeling like a child who’s just been scolded. 

“Of course we aren’t.” You wish you didn’t sound so bitter, as he sighs loudly. 

“Come on, don’t just stand there and pout at me, you knew we weren’t friends. We can’t be.” The contempt in his voice cuts deep. 

“Fuck you. Get out.” You start walking in the direction of the closet but he grabs your arm before you can get there. 

“Don’t do that.” His tone is a little gentler but it does nothing to sway your temper, shoving him off of you. 

“Why not. You’re right. We aren’t friends, I’m just the ditzy little princess you’re charged with watching, I don’t know why I ever thought you actually might care about me.” You’re trying not to cry at this point as you throw your hands up in defeat. “Is that what you wanted to hear? You were right. I was wrong. You win Mando, was that little episode in the hallway just now an act to get me to this point? If so you’re a fantastic actor, really had me going. I almost thought you actually gave a shit about me.” You turn sharply to open the closet door, wanting nothing more than to retreat to your pile of blankets but his large hand lands just next to your head slamming it shut. He raises his other hand so they’re boxing you in, he towers over and you scowl, your faces inches from each other now. 

“Why did you invite me in?” The crackle of the filter is low and it makes you want to tear the whole helmet from his head and slap him. And maybe do a few other things while it’s off.

“I want you to leave.”

“No you don’t”

“I hate you.”

“Is that what you tell yourself to make all of this okay?”

Smoke. Metal. Fresh Linen.  

“I hate you.” The back of your head is against the closet door as you take a step back, he leans down, closer to you, your forehead is practically touching Beskar. 

“That’s what I tell myself to justify it all.” Gods, why do you wish you could feel his breath on your face? “So why did you invite me in, sarad’ika?” Your knees buckle slightly and his hands fly to your waist to support you.  When you don’t respond he leans just an inch closer, your breath is fogging up the steel of his helmet now. “Say it again.”

“I hate you.” It’s practically a squeak as you say it this time. He hums softly in response. 

“I can’t stand you.” He murmurs. “It’s like you were put on this planet to make me suffer .” His hands put the slightest bit of pressure on your hips to accentuate the end of his sentence.  

“Do I really bother you that much? What have I done to you that is truly that terrible?” You do everything in your power to make it sound cold and harsh but your voice still trembles. 

“Don’t play dumb cyar’ika. Don’t act like you don’t know what you do to me.” The words are labored as you savor the heat coming off of his body. “The way you torment me.” He’s practically snarling. 

“I have no idea what you mean.” Of course you do. As you gingerly bring your hands up to rest on his chestplate, trying to put a distance between the two of you uselessly. You know exactly what he’s talking about because it's exactly how you feel everytime you stare into the cold and unforgiving steel of his visor. The misery of absolutely loathing a person purely because you cannot have them, because you cannot escape them. Because it’s not just that he’s always physically there, he’s there when you close your eyes and when you sleep, he lives in brain, there is nothing you can do to get rid of him. To free yourself of the brand he has burned deep into your psyche.

That can’t be what he means though.

“Why do you do it? Hmm?” He brings the helmet down to rest against your cheek, you can feel the vibration when he hums, the sensation has you arching your back before you can stop yourself but thankfully his grip holds you in place against the door. 

“Do what?” You groan softly, he squeezes your waist tighter. 

“ This.” He grunts. “You do all of this. You wear that green dress, read those dirty books right in front of me, for fucks sake look at you. You invited me in and you put on this?” His fingers yank at the loose hanging fabric on your hips. “ This pretty little black slip of lace? You must truly despise me to put me through this lovely little bit of torture…”

“I don’t do those things for you.” You manage to spit out. It’s sort of true, you don’t entirely do those things for him, sometimes they just happen by accident. 

 One of his gloved hands comes up to grip your chin. “Don’t even get me started on this filthy mouth of yours, the way you talk to me sarad, when you insult me, berate me, all I can think about is how I could make this pretty mouth talk so sweet, make you beg and whine just for me, never talk back to me again.” 

Maker this isn’t real, it can’t be. You must have fallen asleep again, but he feels so solid, and palpable, and the wetness pooling between your legs certainly felt real. You’re speechless at this point as you just let out a little whimper that has him chuckling softly.

“Is that really all I had to do to make you behave? Whisper vulgar things into your ear? If I had known all you wanted was a little attention I would have done this the day I met you mesh’la. Is this what you want? I need to hear you say it.” He’s sweetened immediately and it’s making your head spin. You need to think clearly, be realistic, you can’t do this. No matter how badly you want this. 

But right now it’s hard to do much of anything besides lightly scratch at his chestplate and whimper. 

“Tell me to leave right now. I’ll do it, I’ll hop on the first transport ship off planet and you’ll never see me again.”  You know he’s serious. He could easily do whatever he wanted with you in this position but you know him, and you know if you don’t explicitly ask for it he won’t go further than this. Why is this so hard? You know what you need to do, you need to tell him to leave, to get as far away from you as possible but you know that it would never be far enough. There is nowhere he could go that would free you from this agony . 

“W-we can’t do this.” You manage to stutter out, your eyes are squeezed shut at this point, just trying to stop any more noises from slipping out.

“Then tell me to leave.” He says it almost like it’s what he really wants, that he knows, just like you do, that there’s no coming back from this. 

“I hate you. Every part” Stars, why can’t you just tell him to go? 

“I know you do cyar’ika.”

Your heart is pounding in your chest, he can probably hear it. You need to convince him that you can’t do this, because you know you can’t stop yourself, it has to be him. 

“Do you know what would happen if we were caught?” You breathe out, grabbing the sides of his helmet to pull him back slightly so you can stare into the thin black line. 

“I know.” 

“They’d hang us both.”

“They’d hang me.” 

You know he’s right. They’d be substantially worse to him, you’d most likely just be locked away until it was time to produce an heir. 

“They’d hang you.” You whisper. 

“The moment anyone found out I would be swarmed by guards. They’d lock me up and throw away the key.” His grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly

“They’d do worse than that.” For fucks sake, everything you’re saying is true and you know it, why isn’t this making either of you stop. 

“They’d torture me.” He says it so plainly, like it doesn’t bother him in the slightest. 

“They’d torture you.” 

“They’d cut out my tongue if they knew what I wanted to do to you.” Then why does he sound like he doesn’t care?

“Then don’t do it, it isn’t worth it.”

“I could do most of it without a tongue.” 

“I’d miss your tongue.” You need to stop. 

“Would you?”

“I would.” You would. 

“I thought you hated my tongue. Every part of me .” 

“I do. But it would be a shame for them to cut it out before I get to put it to good use.”

“Don’t talk to me like that.” Maker, did he just growl?

“You don’t like it?”

“You’re supposed to be telling me to leave. Keep talking like that and I won’t be able to stop myself.” 

“Then don’t stop yourself.”

“Tell me to leave sarad’ika.”

“Stay.”

And that’s all it takes. He hauls you over his shoulder and before you can even process what’s happening you’re being thrown down on the bed. He’s hastily removing things, buckles and belts, tossing them aside with his gloves as he pulls his cowl over his helmet, letting his cape fall to the floor as he drops the pack on top of it, you can’t help it as you reach up and grab the edge of his chestplate pulling him closer.

“Don’t bother, can’t wait.” Is all you say as you trace your fingertips across his now exposed neck, you can work around the flight suit and armor. His now bare hands find your waist again, this time tearing the fabric to shreds as he rips the negligee off of you, tossing the scraps to the side. You don’t have time to feel embarrassed about your bare chest being exposed to him now as his hands found the hem of your panties.

“Do you need these?” He says breathlessly, his visor keeps moving ever so slightly across your body like he doesn’t know where to look as you shake your head no.

“I have plenty of others.” That’s all he needs to hear before those are ripped to shreds too and he’s crawling onto the bed to hover above you, his hands slide under your thighs to scooch you upwards so his head is closer to your stomach. He wastes no time as he pushes your legs up to bend your knees so he can access all of you. You can hear the soft gasps from the modulator. 

“Sarad… bid mesh’la.” One of his hands presses to your inner thigh as he spreads your legs wider for him, his other hand moves up to swipe two fingers through your folds. “Cuyir ibic an par ni?” It’s like he’s talking to himself as he holds them up so you can see how wet they are. Your face turns red at the sight. “Is this all for me sarad?” You put your hands over your face sheepishly as you nod, you barely register the sound of air hissing as you peek through your fingers just long enough to watch as he slips his hand under his helmet to suck his fingers clean, letting out a low breathy moan.   

Maker, you don’t stand a chance. 

“Fuck, Mando, quit stalling.” You whine out, bringing your own hand between your legs in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure that’s building there. One of his hands gently grabs your wrists, effortlessly pinning them above your head as he clicks his tongue. 

“Needly little thing.” He chuckles as his other hand traces down your body, stopping to palm your breast, going between them as you whined, squirming under his grasp, there’s got to be a wet spot on the sheets already as he continues to taunt you, lazily rolling one of your nipples between his fingers. “So pretty mesh’la. I knew you’d be so perfect, smooth and soft under my hands.” He pinches the nipple he was playing with making you squeal. “You have to be quiet sarad. Can you do that for me?” He rubs circles over your tit with his thumb, soothing the ache as you nod. “Good girl.” You can practically hear the grin on his face as you flush red at the praise. He releases your wrists as he brings both hands down across your chest now, following the blush before finally one of his hands dips between your thighs. 

“Please Mando…” You whisper as your hands grip the sheets. His fingers massaging your inner thigh, deliberately avoiding your core. 

“Please what, princess?” Maker, he sounds so smug. 

“Gods, I hate you.” You squirm uselessly underneath him, not bothering to try and touch yourself, you know he’d stop you. His gravely laugh seeps out of the modulator. 

“I like you like this, my little star flower.” One of his hands smacks your thigh, it isn’t that hard but you still have to bite back a moan. “I wish I'd known how easy it was to make you behave. I’d have bent you over and done this weeks ago if I knew it would have the effect on you.” 

“Maker, are you going to touch me or are you going to just talk all night Mand-” Your voice catches in your throat as he slides two fingers into you without warning. Your back arching off the mattress until his other hand rests on your lower stomach, pushing you back down. He hums as he slowly draws them out before driving them back home forcing a choked out groan from you. You were right, he does feel better than your own fingers as he slowly and deliberately fucks you with his hand, his helmet moving back and forth to watch his digits slip in and out of you to your face as you bring a hand to your mouth to try and quiet the obscene noises that start slipping out.

“Maybe next time you mouth off to me I’ll just do this, would you like that?” 

Overconfident son of a bitch.

You’re having a hard time thinking of a witty comeback and when you don’t respond he hums softly, curling his fingers to hit that spot that makes you see stars. 

“Naughty. Speak up princess.” The warm drawl of his voice is suffocating as he curls his fingers again, your body trying desperately to writhe at the sensation but his other hand keeps you held in this position. “Use your words. I know you can, you’re always so mouthy” His tone is mocking as he curls his fingers again ruthlessly and your other hand flies down to his wrist. 

“Yes.” You manage to yelp you as he withdrawals his fingers and you whine softly at the feeling, trying to keep hold on his wrist to bring him back against you. He tuts as he brings the hand to his pants as he unzips the flightsuit and you sit up on your elbows to get a good look as his cock springs free. He lazily strokes himself, using your slick as a lubricant, his visor trained on your face as you let out a small gasp. 

Of course he’s so arrogant. With a dick like that anyone would be, he’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever seen and just generally nice to look at. You didn’t even know it was possible to have such an attractive cock. It’s hefty, thick, veiny like his hands, the tip is such a pretty shade of pink as he swipes his thumb across the beads of pre-cum that spill out, drawing a sharp inhale from him. He leans forward slightly and slides the head through your folds making you fall back onto the bed, your head sinking into the mattress as you whine. You’re waiting for the delicious sting of him pushing in but of course he doesn’t. You lift your eyes to stare into the visor, he’s looking at you expectantly, you can virtually see the smirk on his face. 

“Be a good girl, princess. You know what I want.” He rubs the tip against your neglected clit and you cry out softly, reaching up to grip his shoulders.

“You’re such an ass.” You manage to gasp out as you try to hook a leg around his waist to pull him against you but of course he’s able to stay exactly where he is as he continues to leisurely stroke himself, bumping the head of his cock against your clit every so often, watching as you squirm. After a few moments of watching you wriggle under him he pulls back ever so slightly causing you to whine, leaning forward to grab his arms, uselessly pulling him back towards you. 

“I thought you didn’t want it?” He says in that stupid condescending tone. Even now he’s insufferable but you can’t help it, you’re so worked up at this point you’ll do damn near anything to get him inside you. 

“Please.” You whine softly. He hesitates before he leans back down, one hand gripping your hips as his other lines himself up with your entrance. Your hands squeeze his shoulders, trying to get any sort of leverage to force him into you.

“Please what sarad?” He tilts his head ever so slightly to the left.

Oh you’re gonna kill him.

After. 

“Please, for Makers sake just fuck me already.” You groan out, you only get to roll your eyes for a second before he snaps his hips forward, pushing himself only halfway into you but the stretch is immense as you scratch into his arms, whining loudly, the dull pain is worth it though as he brings his helmet down against the mattress next to yours so you can hear the guttural moan that falls from the modulator. Both his hands are on your hips now as he digs his fingers into the skin, trying to steady himself, you’re definitely gonna have bruises. He lies breathlessly on top of you for a few moments before he speaks again.

“Are you okay mesh’la? Are you okay if I move?” His voice is tense and you can hear him panting, you’re surprised you don’t cum right then and there as you nod against his shoulder, your nails scratching at his back now to stabilize yourself. 

“Yes, please, please Mando” You breathlessly mumble, shifting your hips slightly, wincing as you take a bit more of him and that’s all the permission he needs to grab your hips and gradually pull you down on to his length. By the time he’s fully inside of you you’re a whining mess.

Who needs dignity? Not you. Not when you can hear the Mandalorian groaning in your ear, mumbling incoherently in Mando’a to himself as his cock twitches inside you. 

He isn’t moving, you know he’s trying to catch his breath but Maker he feels so good and you don’t feel like waiting so you gingerly pry one of his hands off of your waist and guide it down between your legs, that seems to bring him back to reality as he starts rubbing small circles against your clit which has you keening immediately. He still doesn’t move inside of you as he intently watches you gasping and moaning, you shut your eyes tight as he brushes his fingertips slowly across your swollen bud. 

Of course he’s him so he doesn’t let you enjoy it for long because once you’re thrashing underneath him because you’re so close he draws his hand back and you breathlessly grab his wrist.

“Don’t you dare.” You give him as stern a look as you can but it sounds more like a plea. That gets a small laugh from him as he ever so slightly pulls out before slamming himself back into you, watching as your mouth falls open in a silent scream. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He chuckles as he repeats the motion, pulling out ever so slightly before fully sheathing himself once more, you’re seeing stars again. 

“If you don't put your kriffing hand back between my legs I won’t ever let you do this again.” You try to scowl at him but all it takes is another snap of his hips before you’ve lost all your resolve. He finally picks up the pace, slamming his hips against yours, the thrusts growing brutal as he unravels you to nothing but whimpers as you claw uselessly at his shoulders. You’re pathetically whining now, it’s unfair how easily he’s able to get you there. It’s almost like he knows how close you are as he lets out a small groan when you clench around him, his hips stuttering slightly. 

“Ask nicely, princess.” He grunts out as he picks up the punishing pace once more. “Use your manners and I’ll give you whatever you want.” He growls as he brings his hands to your thighs to force them against your stomach, letting him push into you deeper. The feeling makes your head spin, the knot in your stomach tightens immediately as you let out a high pitched whine. 

“Please… for fucks sake, let me cum or I’m gonna rip your stupid perfect cock off the second we’re done.” You manage to grunt out through gritted teeth. He chuckles breathlessly as he brings his hand back to your clit, pressing rough and rapid circles against it. 

“We’ll work on that.” He laughs softly as you can feel yourself rapidly slipping back towards that edge and before you know it you’re right there again. He doesn’t let up on his ruthless motions this time as you finally reach your peak. 

You’re loud. 

Probably too loud.

But Maker, he loves it. It’s like it’s fueling him because he’s chanting your name and mumbling in Mando’a again as his thrusts grow sloppy and you manage to open your eyes just in time to watch him pull out and frantically stroke himself as he cums with a low growl, his other hand locked around your thigh as he shoots his load onto your stomach. 

It’s oddly gratifying to watch as he writhes, kneeling over you as his chest heaves. Collapsing down next to you once he’s finished, gasping for air. A nice reminder that under all the talk he is still just a man. Your man. 

Nope. Nope. Nope.

You fucking idiot. That’s not what this was. This was… 

Shit what was this? 

Casual sex. 

Friends with benefits. 

You can’t just have sex one time and start calling him your man are you crazy? You’re still married.

Fuck. You’re married. 

You turn your head slightly to look at him. 

If you didn’t know what to say to him an hour ago you definitely don’t know what to say to him now.

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

[tanadrin]

Was there anything actually juicy in Clinton's emails? The media behavior reads like half an attempt to appear more principled b/c of the criticism they got in 2016, and half an attempt to swing the election for Trump because he's better for their business.

not super juicy. i do think there's a differential in how the media covers trump vs other candidates (even other republicans) bc he's so bizarre and they don't know how to handle them, but i don't think it's as calculated as "he's better for their business"

you have to remember that conservatives have spend decades screaming about how the media is unfair to them and biased in favor of liberals and bc media figures want to be the important biased neutral arbiters of democracy (bc that is how they perceive themseves) and they want to try to preserve access to political figures, they have spent a lot of time and effort trying to perform neutrality. this doesn't work of course--there's a reason why the right eventually spawned its own media ecosystem; no amount of bending over backwards to both-sides issues like global warming will appease basically dishonest actors--but it has produced this weird asymmetry where they report on trump like he's a much more normal candidate than he is, reported on his administration like it was a much more coherent realization of policy goals than it was, and sane wash a lot of statements that are either simply incoherent or are menacing and deranged. and they reassure themselves that he can't possibly mean the menacing and deranged things, or that if he does he won't be able to realize them, and after all wasn't the first trump term pretty OK after all?

obviously, i think this is a mistake--the first time around trump was impeded by his own incompetence and that of the people under him, and the fact that, not really knowing what to expect, some actually sane people ended up attached to his administration. i don't think that's likely to be quite the same in a second go-round. but normalcy bias is powerful. it affects a lot of people who aren't journalists, too. and even if you think he isn't likely to succeed, i think the responsible way to report on someone declaring that they are going to attempt to deport millions and seize direct control of major cities and shut down media outlets that offend them is to report that they intend to sdeport millions and seize direct control of major cities and shut down media outlets that offend them, not to try to interpret their pronouncements through the lens of anodyne "economic policy" or w/e. if the flagship outlets of media were really making a rational risk-benefit calculation on whether a second trump term would be good for them, they would be much more strenuously opposing him, because he has promised a scorched-earth campaign of revenge against them, you know?

but actually a lot of the dysfunction of american political coverage is the result of a social incentive structure that's been slowly emerging for more than forty years, driven in part by the incestuousness of the beltway media-political environment and the self-conception and ego of media figures. honestly i think it started as the conspiratorial right moved into mainstream conservative and republican politics in the last three decades of the 20th century. in order for that conspiratorial attitude to really take hold, you had to creative a social structure that isolated people from the broader political consensus, to get them to stop trusting shared sources of authority and information, and that resulted in sustained attacks against the supposed flagrant bias of american news media as a whole, and this process accelerated as distinct right-wing outlets like fox were established. but it was a frog-in-the-pot situation, and many republican politicians were willing to take on this new style of rhetoric that seemed to win votes (and no doubt many believed it to some extent, since it flattered their preconceptions).

but eventually the break became too great--birtherism, the tea party, qanon. mainstream republican politicians realized they'd called up something they couldn't put down; but it was too late to right the ship. trump is the avatar of all that conspiracism and rage, and he took over the republican party. but the tectonic social forces that produced him have been slow and kind of indirect, and a lot of people are still coasting on attitudes and approaches to politics that are ten, twenty, thirty years out of date.

[master-sass-blast]

Let's (Not) Party, Baby.

Summary: You rub your swollen belly, both fond and exhausted. “I think it just feels weird to me. Like, the gender reveal party was to celebrate the healthy pregnancy lasting so long. But I just feel really weird about being, like, ‘I’m growing a human, come give me shit.’”

Kitty laughs as she unwraps another bar of chocolate. “Well, I think it’s the duty of the community to support pregnant mothers, y’know? It’s about equipping the parents with what they need to care for the baby.”

“Yeah, but everything I’ve read about and seen online is a whole spectacle,” you grumble. “And, honestly, I don’t have the energy for a party. I’m fucking tired. I feel bloated and sore. I don’t want to have a party where I have to put on real pants and eat melted candy bars out of diapers.”

Kitty stills, then slowly looks over at you with a wide-eyed expression of horror. “That’s a thing?”

“It’s a game,” you answer with a roll of your eyes. “You’re supposed to guess which kind of candy it is.”

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Kitty Pryde x Illyana Rasputin.

Rating: G.

Word count: 4.3k.

Set after "S'mores for Two."

Author's Note: Me? Posting more than once a year? Surely not.

In other news, my CFS/other body and brain shit is still overwhelming. It basically took dragging myself through editing to be able to post this latest round of fics (for those of you who don't check out my other works, no worries, but I like to post in little caches so that everything is updated mostly together). I'm not trying to vie for pity; I'm really fucking proud of myself for pushing through and being able to post. I had an unofficial goal of wanting to post more fics before April was over (because April is my birth month), and I did it! I am that bitch!

Thank you all for your patience -and all the comments! They really kept me going when the grind of editing was starting to wear me down.

Happy Reading!

“I guess I’m just not sure what to do.”

Kitty nods as she paints your fingernails a pretty shade of shimmering lilac. “Well, I think it just depends on, like, what you and Piotr want to do, y’know?”

The two of you are on the family room couch; you’ve both taken over the space a bit, actually. It’s a scheduled at home spa day, courtesy of Kitty. There’s dozens of bottles of nail polish lined up on the coffee table, next to two discarded face mask wrappers, a tub of coarse sugar scrub, a sleeve of cotton discs, and an entire store's worth of toners and moisturizers. There’s a half-empty pizza box on one end of the table, several bars of chocolate (and more wrappers), an open jar of pickles (the good, Kosher deli kind, according to Kitty), and a cereal bowl half-filled with peanut butter.

You swipe one end of a pickle spear through your bowl of peanut butter, then crunch down. I mean, I know that’s the point, but… “I think it’s more, like,” you begin once you’ve swallowed, “that I never thought I’d be in this position in life. And that if I ever did get to this stage in life–” you gesture vaguely around you with your munched-on pickle spear “–that I’d automatically know what to do.”

Kitty nods, curly hair bobbing with the motion of her head. “I get you.” She finishes your right hand, then screws the lid back onto the corresponding bottle of polish. “It’s, like, hard to wrap your head around.”

“Yeah. I mean–” You pause to load more peanut butter onto your pickle, which is harder than it sounds. “How are you even supposed to plan baby shower stuff?”

It’s a quandary that’s been gnawing on the back of your mind for months now. The gender reveal party, at least, had been easy. Tasty food, balloon with colored confetti inside, Aiden’s photography team because you and Piotr had wanted pictures, done. It’d been a celebration of having a pregnancy last long enough to see the baby’s gender –and a wonderful day where you and Piotr learned you’d be welcoming a daughter in a few months.

Trying to plan a baby shower, however…

You rub your swollen belly, both fond and exhausted. Your eviction date is coming for you, Masha, whether you like it or not. “I think it just feels weird to me. Like, the gender reveal party was to celebrate the healthy pregnancy lasting so long. We all ate food and enjoyed each other’s company. But I just feel really weird about being, like, ‘I’m growing a human, come give me shit.’”

Kitty laughs as she unwraps another bar of chocolate. “Well, I think it’s the duty of the community to support pregnant mothers, y’know? It’s about equipping the parents with what they need to care for the baby.”

“Yeah, but everything I’ve read about and seen online is a whole spectacle,” you grumble. You hold your hand out for a square of chocolate, then pop the piece Kitty gives you into your mouth. “And, honestly,” you continue as you tuck the chocolate into your cheek like a hamster, “I don’t have the energy for a party. I’m fucking tired. I feel bloated and sore. I don’t want to have a party where I have to put on real pants and eat melted candy bars out of diapers.”

Kitty stills, then slowly looks over at you with a wide-eyed expression of horror. “That’s a thing?”

“It’s a game,” you answer with a roll of your eyes. “You’re supposed to guess which kind of candy it is.”

She gags, then shakes her head. “Fuck that. That’s just gross.”

“Exactly!”

Kitty eats a few squares of chocolate, expression contemplative. Once she swallows, she says, “I guess I don’t see it as that big of a deal –not having a baby shower and all that. We don’t have baby showers in Jewish circles.”

“Oh.” Your brows lift upwards. “Why not?”

“It’s considered inauspicious,” she explains. “My best friend’s older sister’s parents kept all the baby stuff at their house until she gave birth. Then, they went over to her and husband’s place and set everything up for when she came home.”

“Oh.” You cock your head to one side, considering, then grimace and shrug. “We already have the nursery part way set up, though–”

“I didn’t mean that, like, that should do the same thing,” Kitty interjects. “I meant it, like, whatever you do should serve you and your happiness.” She offers you a reassuring smile. “There is no real rule about what’s normal or not. If a baby shower sounds exhausting, then don’t do it.”

“But people might be expecting for us to have one,” you sigh wearily, “so they can celebrate.”

“Fuck them and their expectations.” Kitty grins when you laugh. “I’m serious! All that matters is what makes you happy.”

“And Piotr,” you tack on once you catch your breath. “And he might want one.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find that out–” Kitty twists towards the front of the house when the front door swings open, then thumps shut. “Hey, speak of the man!”

Piotr pauses his conversation with Illyana as he looks towards you. He glances at you, eyebrows raised, then at Kitty, then back at you again. “Chto?”

“Your wife has a question for you!” Kitty hollers before flashing a dazzling, enraptured grin at Illyana. “Hi, baby!”

Piotr takes off his shoes, then strolls towards you. “You have question, myshka? Is everything okay?”

“Well, first things first.” You cock your head back so you can look up at him. “Will you give me a kiss, even though I’ve been eating peanut butter on pickles?”

He smirks, then bends down and presses his lips against yours.

“Aaw, what a man,” Kitty croons. She cocks her head back when Illyana approaches the couch. “Will you kiss me, even though I’ve been eating pickles without peanut butter?”

Illyana chuckles, then cups Kitty’s chin with her hand and kisses her girlfriend. She looks up when you and Piotr share a grin, then gently tugs on Kitty’s elbow. “Davay.”

“Help yourself to the pizza!” Kitty tosses over her shoulder as Illyana ushers her towards the front of the house (and away from prying eyes).

Piotr kisses the top of your head, then circles around the couch and sits down next to you. The couch creaks beneath him as he helps himself to a slice of cheese pizza, then again when he leans back and settles in. “Ty v poryadke?”

“Da,” you assure him. “I was just talking to Kitty about baby shower stuff.”

Piotr’s brows draw together as he chews a mouthful of pizza. He swallows, then says, “I thought baby showers were not held in Jewish communities.”

“They aren’t. It was more like…” You gesture vaguely with one hand and sigh. “I don’t know if I want to have a baby shower. I’m so tired, and I feel like a boat, and I don’t want to wear pants.”

Piotr lets out a bellowing laugh mid bite, then quickly claps one hand over his mouth. He finishes chewing between giggles, then swallows and sighs. “Oh, moya serdtse. One day, there will be pants that you like.”

“Doubtful.” You smirk, but it quickly gives way to weariness. “I mean… I just don’t know if I have the energy to deal with a baby shower, y’know? But if you want one, I don’t want to take that away from you.”

“What I want–” Piotr sets his partial pizza slice down on a piece of paper towel, then leans over and draws you into his arms. “I want you to be happy and well.” He kisses the crown of your head, then tucks your head beneath his chin. “Masha will be loved and cared for regardless of having baby shower. If you are tired, then you deserve to rest, myshka.”

“Yeah,” you agree as you bury your face in his burly chest, “but if everyone’s expecting us to have one–”

“‘Everyone’ does not get say,” Piotr interrupts gently. “If they wish to help or give gifts, they know where to find us.”

You sigh, then nuzzle against his shirt when he starts stroking your hair. “Maybe we can have, like, a nice dinner or something? With family and close friends? And some help to finish setting up the nursery?”

Piotr gently rubs your back. “That sounds nice.”

“Cool.” You sigh again, far more relaxed this time, then lean over and grab your jar of pickles. “Want a pickle?”

Piotr hums, then nods and plucks a pickle spear out of the jar. “Spasibo.”

“Konechno,” you say before kissing his cheek.

…

“Thanks again for driving me,” you say as you stretch your seatbelt around your swollen belly. “I’ve just been so tired lately that driving isn’t really a good idea.”

“Konechno, ptitsa,” Alex says as she starts the engine on her truck. “How did your appointment go?”

“Good,” you sigh as you stretch and settle into the passenger seat. “Everything’s looking good. Baby’s healthy. Blood sugar looks good. My iron’s still low, though, so I’m taking a higher dose of supplements and I need to be careful about overtiring myself.”

Alex hums and nods as she navigates out of the clinic parking lot. “What can we help with at home?”

“Uh…” Your face and mind go blank. You try, unsuccessfully, to kickstart your brain, then rub your face with your hands when your mind refuses to cooperate. “I think that’d be a difficult question without factoring in pregnancy brain.”

“Fair enough,” Alex chuckles.

“Man, I thought I was spacey before,” you lament. “And then it was bad enough weaning off my meds, but now–” You stop mid-sentence and gape when you see the sign for a McDonalds. “McFlurry.”

Alex laughs again, then changes lanes and drives into the McDonald’s parking lot.

One order for a large fry and an Oreo McFlurry later, the two of you are back on the road and headed for home.

You hum contentedly as you swirl a few fries in your McFlurry. Before you can indulge, though, your addled brain kicks back into gear. “Oh. Did you have a baby shower when you were pregnant with Mikhail?”

“No.” Alex pauses to turn, then explains, “It’s considered back luck in Russian culture. Most expecting parents won’t have one or purchase things for the baby until they are born.”

“Oh.” You blink a few times –the curse under your breath when McFlurry drips off your fries and onto your shirt. You shove your fries and remaining McFlurry “dip” into your mouth, then wipe down your shirt with a tissue (not that it does much good). Once you’re cleaner, and you’ve swallowed, you ask, “Then why was Piotr so ambivalent about whether we have one or not?”

“Because that boy will follow you to the ends of Earth if you asked,” Alex answers with a smirk. “And he’s Americanized a bit since moving here. Plus, we didn’t necessarily raise our kids to be so superstitious. Nikolai and I saw it as more to not ask about someone’s pregnancy unless they wanted to share, rather than luck related. We still prepared a nursery for Mikhail and stocked up on supplies.” She drums her fingers against the steering wheel while you wait behind another car. “To be honest, even if parties were part of our culture, I wasn’t in any shape for one.” She chuckles ruefully beneath her breath. “I was a wreck during that pregnancy.”

“Honestly, I feel the same way,” you admit with a heavy sigh. “I’m so tired, and sore, and I don’t want to wear pants.” You smile when Alex laughs, then continue with your griping. “Plus, all of the shit I’ve seen for baby showers just… doesn’t appeal? I don’t have the energy to decorate, and apparently there’s games you can play? But it’s weird stuff like melting candy bars in diapers, then having everyone try and guess what kind of candy it is–”

Alex grimaces. “That sounds disgusting.”

“Yeah. Plus, if I’m getting candy, I just want to eat the candy.”

“Understandable and wise.”

“We talked about having family and friends over for dinner,” you continue after grinning, “and to have some help around the house and finishing the nursery… but, like, how do you ask people ‘hey, come bring some food and hang out and help us with the nursery and house stuff because we’re expecting a baby?’”

Alex smirks and shoots you a sidelong glance. “That seemed pretty coherent to me.”

“That’s not what I–” You stick your tongue out at her when she laughs. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” she assures you. She brakes for a red light, then looks over and puts one hand on your shoulder. “Just ask, ptitsa. Ask, and we’ll be there.”

You smile, and place your hand over hers. “Thanks, Alex.”

…

“I was thinking of actually printing invitations? I don’t know why, I just think it’d be funny.” You spit toothpaste foam into the sink, then resume brushing your teeth. “We could print an extra one to keep. It’d be, like, a cute memory thing.”

Piotr smiles at you in the bathroom mirror, amused. “We could. What would these hypothetical invitations say?”

“I dunno.” You rinse your mouth and toothbrush, then stick your toothbrush in the little holder you keep on the sink. “‘We’re having a baby; come eat food about it.’ Whatever works, honestly.” When he chuckles, you turn to face him. “Do you have a better idea?”

Piotr laughs, shakes his head, then bends and kisses the top of your head. “I trust your creative vision, myshka.”

“Damn straight.” You smirk, self-satisfied, then turn back to the sink and resume your bedtime routine. Floss, fluoride, wash face… what kind of food are you supposed to serve at a baby shower? “What kind of food would we have?”

“Uh…” Piotr clears his throat. “I am not sure,” he calls from the bedroom. “Perhaps we should discuss in morning. Take night to sleep on ideas.”

Your reflection scrunches its face as you floss. “I don’t think it’s that serious. It’s just, like, a potluck dinner. Almost anything would work.”

There’s a pause, and then your husband’s heavy footsteps approach the bathroom. He leans around the doorway and meets your gaze in the mirror, lips pursed. “Da. However…” He tucks his tongue inside his cheek and looks away. “Your nighttime cravings are… ravenous. And unpredictable.”

“I am not that bad!” You blow a raspberry at him over your shoulder, then toss your used flosser in the trash. “Fine. We’ll talk about food in the morning.” You reach for the bottle of fluoride –then gasp and scamper to the bathroom door. “We should have pancakes for breakfast!”

Piotr laughs and nods as he turns down the bed. “Pancakes for breakfast, very good.”

“With blueberries!”

“With blueberries.”

Pleased, you smile, then head back to the sink. Once you’re done with your routine, you head to bed and heft yourself onto the mattress.

Piotr, the saint he is, helps arrange pillows behind you to support your back. He leans over to watch as you scroll through YouTube. “Ah, nighttime listenings.” He holds out one hand. “Would you like me to find Among Us gameplay for you?”

“I can do it,” you insist, frowning. “I’m pregnant, not missing my hands.”

“Nyet, nyet,” he agrees. “But–”

“‘History of Americana Diner Food.’” You gasp when you see a thumbnail displaying burgers, fries, and a milkshake. Your stomach growls, and you groan. “Oh, burgers sound so good.”

Piotr bites the inside of his lower lip when you gaze up at him pleadingly. He hesitates, then sighs and relents with a soft laugh. “Davay, myshka. Let’s get you burger.”

You coo happily, then leverage yourself out of bed. “Just for that, I’ll share my fries with you.”

…

“I meant to ask you something earlier.”

Piotr glances over as you rummage through your take-out bag, then turns his attention back to the road. “Chto?”

“Why –that smells so fucking good.” You stop to cram a few fries in your mouth, then continue once you’ve swallowed. “Why aren’t you bothered by baby shower stuff?”

There’s a long silence. Then, with quiet bewilderment, Piotr says, “I think I am not understanding your meaning.”

“I mean… Your mom said that baby showers are inauspicious in Russia. But, when I asked you if we had to do one, you seemed ambivalent about it all.”

“I do not believe much in luck,” Piotr says after a moment, shrugging. “Some things are beyond control, da, but choices are what impact outcomes. Not unseen forces.” He pauses to change lanes, then adds, “And I want to be sensitive to you. You had bad upbringing. If there was something you wanted in preparation for our baby, for healing, then I want to make sure that happens.”

“Not everything comes down to my shitty childhood,” you press. “I’m not the only person in this relationship, and this isn’t just my baby we’re expecting.” You wolf down a few more fries. “I don’t want you to set aside what you’re comfortable with just because I had fuckheads for parents. This is all supposed to be about compromise.”

“I am not making myself uncomfortable, dorogoy,” Piotr assures you, tone gentle. He takes one hand off the wheel and takes hold of yours. “I think baby showers as tradition –as mandatory–is foolish. But if you want one to celebrate our baby, that would make me very happy. And if you just want to rest, that makes me happy, also. Khorosho?”

“Alright.” You squeeze his hand lovingly, then reach into your bag and retrieve a few fries. “Open up.”

Piotr chuckles, then opens his mouth and lets you feed him fries. “Spasibo.”

…

The two of you settle on printing one commemorative flier, just for the two of you, then email your prospective guests. The promise is for a breakfast-style buffet of sorts; the two of you will provide the blinis, kasha, and some beef bacon (so Kitty can partake), and everyone else has been asked to bring their favorite breakfast dish.

You bust out laughing when Wade –with Nate and Russell in tow–shows up with a trunk full of Poptarts. “You would!”

“We are not keeping all of those,” Piotr mutters as he eyes the wall of blue boxes uneasily.

“Says you,” you tease. “I’m eating for two! These should last us… oh, about a week.”

Ellie and Yukio supply doughnuts and muffins, Neena comes with a box of freshly made breakfast burritos, and Alex, Nikolai, and Mikhail bring a veritable feast of traditional toppings for the blinis and set up to make fresh latkes.

Kitty and Illyana arrive last.

You blink rapidly when you see the numerous bags and containers carried between the two young women. “You didn’t have to–”

“You’re the one who said to bring breakfast foods!” Kitty interrupts with a cheery grin.

You eye the gallon plastic bowl in her hands with mild suspicion. “What kind of breakfast is that?”

“Okay, this–” she gestures with the bowl as she bustles into the kitchen “–isn’t breakfast, but my mom heard that you’re pregnant, and she wanted to send along some food to help you guys out. This–” she lifts the bowl again “–is cholent, and ‘Yana’s got some roast chicken and challah from mom, for you guys, too. Do you have room in your fridge? Anyway,” she continues as Piotr starts rearranging the fridge contents to make room for everything, “we brought good bagels and toppings for them, because you can’t have breakfast without bagels.” She turns, finally catches sight of all the food in the kitchen, and her jaw drops. “Oh shit.”

“If you leave hungry, is own fault,” Nikolai announces while grating potatoes.

“Hey, that’s my kind of party!” Kitty says with a laugh. “Let me get my skillet and shit set up, and then I’ll start helping you, Nick. Where should I drop everything?”

“We have counter space for you over there,” Piotr says, pointing towards the back of the kitchen. “And vegan pancake mix.”

“There’s dairy free breakfast burritos for you in the paper bag!” Neena calls out. “And the guy doesn’t use pork for any of his recipes.”

“And the pork gelatin free toaster pastries!” Russell adds.

“The doughnuts back there are parve, too,” Ellie pipes up.

Kitty beams. “Thank you so much. You guys are awesome!”

You smile, and pause for a moment to take it all in.

It’s been an inexorably long journey. As far as you’ve come from your past, there are times where you still can’t believe you’ve made it here –somewhere good, and healthy, and safe. It almost feels like a dream. Or a magical trance. Or like you’re watching a movie, and you’re waiting for the credits to start rolling and for the house lights to turn on.

But it’s real. You’re in a beautiful home, with a wonderful husband, surrounded by people who love, respect, and care about you and each other. And you have a baby on the way, on top of it all.

“Myshka?” Piotr places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I’m okay,” you assure him quietly as you wipe tears away from your eyes. “Just very happy.”

Piotr smiles softly, then bends down and kisses your forehead. “I love you very much, moya serdtse.”

“I love you, too.” You tug him down by the collar until you can kiss his cheek, then pat his chest when he straightens back up. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road.”

“Uh, only if you’re sitting down.” Kitty blocks you when you try to enter the kitchen. “Pretty sure you’re supposed to be resting? Doctor’s orders and all that?”

You purse your lips. “You guys are guests–”

“And we’re here to help.” Neena gently takes you by the shoulders and ushers you towards the couch. “So, let us help.”

“Resting is good, myshka,” Piotr starts when you protest.

“Aren’t we here to help both of you?” Ellie pipes up, voice flat but eyes glinting with unmistakable mischief.

“Yeah, but who’s gonna muscle Colossus out of the kitchen?” Russell stage whispers in reply.

All heads turn towards Alex.

Piotr’s confident expression quickly slips away as his mother looks him dead in the eye. “Mama…”

“Are you going to sit?” she asks in Russian.

“Bozhe ty moi –I am not pregnant,” Piotr insists. “I can help.”

Alex sighs, then rounds the kitchen island. “Alright.”

“Nyet, nyet, I am not, mama don’t –blyat!”

You laugh along with everyone else when Alex scoops Piotr up bridal-style.

She carries him over to the couch, then sets him down with surprising gentleness. “Be good,” she admonishes lovingly in Russian. She kisses Piotr’s forehead, then glances meaningfully at you. “Rub your wife’s shoulders.”

Piotr chuckles, somewhat exasperated, and rolls his eyes as his mother strides back to the kitchen. “I am grown man, you know.”

“Da,” Alex agrees without turning back. “You are heavy like one.”

You giggle when Piotr rolls his eyes again, then reach over and grab his hand. You fix him with your prettiest, most pleading eyes when he looks at you. “You don’t want to sit with me?”

“I always want to sit with you,” Piotr assures you, relenting immediately. He moves closer to you, then puts one arm around your shoulders. “Would you like me to rub your back?”

“Oh, always.” You lean against your husband, then relax as he starts rubbing your sore back with his thumbs. You groan, eyes sliding shut, and bask –in him, in the warmth of your home, in the happy chatter and delicious aromas wafting from the kitchen.

Your life certainly feels full of magic.

...

Epilogue:

“Insert Leg A into Slot G–”

“That doesn’t fucking tell me which shitbag it is!” Wade snaps. He snatches the instructions out of your hands, scans the page, then growls and hurls the paper against the floor. “You’re a goddamn rocking chair! No one fucking asked you to run the elementary school accelerated program!”

“Definitely comes with the same baggage,” Neena mutters.

Wade looks over his shoulder at her, then back at you. “Remind me why she’s being the peanut gallery again, instead of using her internal magic eight ball to help us?”

Neena rolls her eyes. “For the last time, that’s not how my powers work.”

“Not to mention they’re probably already maxed to keep you from throwing the materials through the window,” you mumble under your breath.

Things would’ve been simpler if you’d just purchased a pre-assembled rocking chair. Unfortunately, not many of them come rated from someone of Piotr’s size (or the wear and tear you’re both certain that your baby –and, eventually, kids–will put the seat through).

“I keep telling you guys, you’re going about this all wrong!” Kitty calls as she carries the vacuum cleaner down the hall.

“Yes, do enlighten us, Ms. ‘Quantumania Axed the Best Character,’” Wade grumbles.

Kitty stares at him for a long moment, face scrunched up in conclusion. “...Right.”

“KURT WAS A GEM, AND WE ALL KNOW IT!”

“Look, you guys just need to let Alex and Ellie do this,” Kitty presses on as she gestures to the mess of wooden slats and rocking chair pieces on the ground. “It’s butch magic. They’ll sort it out in, like, ten minutes.”

“I already told you, Katherine,” Ellie hollers from down the stairs, “I can’t assemble a fucking chair!”

“Fine, Ellen!” Kitty shouts back. “Then just let Alex do it! Honestly, you have a hyper-competent badass in the house, and you don’t stick her on IKEA assembly? The fuck is wrong with you all!”

“Let’s keep things moving, please.” Alex’s voice and footsteps echo up the stairwell. “And reasonably calm,” she adds with a knowing look at Kitty. There’s a pause until Kitty nods and heads off, and then Alex appears in the nursery doorway. “What am I doing now?”

“How good are you at assembling rocking chairs?” Neena asks.

Alex chuckles, then plucks the instructions off the floor. “I’ll give it a go.”

[spot-the-antisemitism]

Link: https://www.tumblr.com/cookiemmilk/769602273303265280/im-black-and-i-think-zionism-is-just-neo-nazism

I didn’t go looking for this, I wasn’t purveying tags or anything. Just scrolling through my dashboard on Tumblr, and bam! Here’s a zero note post comparing Zionism to Neo-Nazism. Which, even if someone full heartedly believed Zionism is racism and all that…that still wouldn’t make it neo-Nazism. Sorry, actually they said “Zionism is Neo-Nazism but for Jewish people” (the sentence is so stupid). The bullshit never makes sense even if you apply their own logic (which, I suppose is a feature not a bug). This incessant need to compare Israel to Nazi Germany is straight up antisemitic, it’s “the Jews are just as bad as the Nazis now” which proves they have a concerning lack of knowledge regarding the Holocaust because no, there’s no similarities between the Third Reich and Modern-day Israel. The situations are entirely different, but of course they (idiots, antisemitic idiots, and those using the Holocaust as some kind of gotcha against Israelis and Jewish people) don’t really care about that do they?

Disclaimer: Islamophobia is bad, undeniable so and if/when it shows up in UK media it ought to be denounced (I don’t really read UK news so not entirely familiar with the typical racist rhetoric that is used over there). But to say, “why doesn’t the world care about Palestine?” Is just a baffling question. The world does care (arguably), I mean why else are charities giving out aid and distributing food over there? Why is Anera and the WCF over there if the world doesn’t care? I mean, didn’t countries start declaring Palestine a state recently as well? I mean, the countless protests in Israel against their own government, grassroots organizations and interfaith organizations all trying for peace in the region, etc etc. the protests here as well (even though I feel the U.S. protests tend to be mostly for-show, not actually effective, and concerningly antisemitic).

You could say “I feel like people don’t care enough” or “people might care but there’s no action being done to help Palestine” or “there isn’t enough being done to help Palestine / Palestinians”. One could argue that various governments could be doing more, that Israel could be doing more, and so on! Whether their arguments stand up or not is another matter, but that would be an understandable statement to make! Why the fuck is so hard for people to make valid criticisms of a country and its military operations without veering straight into conspiracy theories and antisemitism and Nazi comparisons?

Just realized, I think OP is using the revised Wikipedia version of the definition of Zionism, which you covered sometime ago. The section of “Hitler’s goals” explicitly says European Jews, which I don’t disagree with necessarily BUT that feels like it misses the whole fact that there were also camps in North African countries like Tunisia, Algeria, Morocco and so on?

Like just a quick search gives multiple sources on North Africa during WW2. Those are the quick sources I used for reference (I know you know all that, I’m just saying where I got my stuff from).

https://encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/gallery/camps-in-north-africa

https://theconversation.com/north-africans-experiences-of-world-war-ii-often-go-unheard-194326

https://www.yadvashem.org/holocaust/about/outbreak-of-ww2-anti-jewish-policy/north-africa-and-middle-east.html#narrative_info

I have no fucking clue what “too many black people go all Zionism” means. Can’t tell if they’re complaining about people voting blue but supporting Israel? Is that a weird pro-Trump dig or “both sides are bad”? It doesn’t really matter I suppose, nitpicking one tiny detail of a shitty post.

What the actual fuck does “at least they know not to use their families death for their own gain like Zionists do” mean? How fucking…I don’t even…is this meant to be a “look Zionists (bad Jews) are using the Holocaust as an excuse to oppress Palestinians”? What a vile thing to say.

A cursory glance at their blog reveals the usual “Jews are Nazis, Zionists are Nazis” shit and “The Oscars / Academy Awards show is a conspiracy, Israel is using it as cover” shit.

if I’ve misspoken or said anything out of turn, please let me know (I mean this all in good faith). I don’t want to seem too charitable towards someone being antisemitic, I’m just trying to understand their (irrational) logic, nor do I want to dismiss Palestinian suffering either while mentioning I/P.

Oh man either Nation of Islam takes another black person into hating Jews instead of white supremacy

or they're a russian bot who all claim to be black women (and the OTHER reason tumblr bans black women so much) but their unnatural speech pattern and their innefective tagging screams bot

thanks for the investigation!

[masonmyluv]

Part 1

A/N: I really hope you will all like this story. It’s my first pretty long story (it will have around 10 parts, so stay tuned ;) ) that I’m posting here. You can also find the story on my wattpad account (username: tmrxlover_writer).

Pictures are from Pinterest, the filter is Cinnamon on Polarr.

Warnings: none

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Another day at Uni after he just scored his first La Liga goal . He was buzzing, but had to be on time for classes. He was sure the whole university will congratulate him. Being famous was difficult when you just wanted to be a normal student.

"Our boy Fermin is back!"

You looked up from your notes to see Fermin being congratulated by the whole class. People hugging him, patting him on the back. "Thanks man" he kept saying, trying to make his way to his place. He just wanted the class to begin so everyone could leave him alone. "Hey" he said, sitting next to you. "Hi" you replied quietly. Being the shy nerdy girl was bad enough when you were sitting near the hot athletic guy. You asked yourself multiple times why did he choose to sit near you in the first year. There were a lot of empty places, but he chose the second row in the front, exactly near you. "Anything that I missed?" He asked, looking at your notes. He always admired your beautiful handwriting and how organised you were, so he knew where to choose to sit at your first class together. Surely not the guy with only a piece of paper and a pen, but rather the girl surrounded by books, coloured pencils and a cup of coffee. He didn't have the balls to ask you to get coffee in the morning, even though he wasn't drinking it, he would offer to come along with you.

"Erm...not really. We talked about more practical stuff. I made some notes if you want to take a picture or something" you offered shyly. You never ever gave your notes to anyone because they were just some lazy asses who didn't care about anything, but you were here to learn. You wanted to be a physiotherapist. They were here just to get a diploma. Not Fermin though. He was passionate about the subject, even though he missed a lot of classes because of his packed schedule. You were willing to help him because he showed interest. And appreciated your work too.

"Thanks. Actually I had an idea, I mean a proposal" he said. "I'm quite behind with everything, so I was wondering if you'd like to meet somewhere and help me catch up? It's okay if you don't want to" he said nervously. Why the heck was he nervous? He scored his first goal in freaking La Liga and was nervous talking to a girl he's seen almost every day in 3 years. You thought about his idea, you wanted to help him, but you weren't the person to meet up in random places to study. You liked the confined space of your room and desk, and maybe the library or the coffee shop, when you had to do computer work.

"I don't want to sound... uhh... like I'm inviting myself" he said blushing as if reading your mind. "But I can come to your place, if that's okay with you". "I... uhh" you rambled on, but the professor was already in class, ready to read one of his boring presentations for 2 hours. You barely paid attention to what he was saying, debating whether to accept Fermin's idea or not, while drawing random patterns on your copybook. Fermin noticed you zooming out so he scribbled something down on his own copybook. He nudged you so you could read what he wrote.

It's okay. It was just an idea :)

You shook your head, writing under his: we talk after the class.

For the rest of the class, you took notes, while Fermin tried paying attention, but his mind kept drifting off somewhere else. What if he overstepped with all this I-can-come-to-your-place-to-study thing and you would think he's weird? He face palmed himself for that, but you were his only hope to pass the exams this semester. The professor finally ended the class and you started packing your bag. Neither of you spoke until you were out of the class.

"Listen I—"

"It's okay if—"

You both stopped mid sentence and chuckled. "You first" he encouraged. "So, I think it's okay for you to come. I live alone anyway. Just tell me when it's okay with you". Fermin couldn't believe what he was hearing. You never ever invited someone over and he could respect that it was your safe place and he didn't want to intrude. "Are you sure it's okay?" He asked and you nodded. "Okay, let me see. Actually I'll text you the day before because I'll have some recovery trainings and I'll be free to come" he said. "I know it's difficult to put up with me" he chuckled nervously. "It's okay. It's not like I'm a party animal or anything" you said. "Okay... I'll let you know soon. Bye. And thank you" he said, climbing into his car. He thought of offering you a car ride, but maybe it was too much overstepping in one day, so he just waved at you and you waved back to him.

When you arrived home, you thought about this day. What the heck was today? Of course you gave him your notes pretty often, but him to come here to study? That was a whole new level.

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Hope you like it 🤍

Feedback is appreciated 😊

[wlwanakin]

I absolutely agree that Anakin would’ve fallen sooner if he didn’t have Padmé by his side! She really brought out the best in him, and he felt the most happy with her which kept him together. Without her, he 1000% would’ve probably fell the minute Shmi died. Anakin having those visions of Padmé in ROTS really gave Palpatine the shortcut to his end goal. Otherwise Anakin would not have ever fallen, if he never saw those dreams.

BtwI loved your ship ask post! Do you have any other Anidala headcanons you could share with us? 👀 of course, no pressure if you don’t <3

yeah anakin’s constantly surrounded by people who view and treat him as Potentially Dangerous and padmé is pretty much the only person who isn’t doing that at all and she asserts his goodness more than anyone, and without her it’s like. if you treat someone like an atomic bomb consistently enough they’re going to start exploding. and without her all he’s got left is people who treat him like an atomic bomb. don’t see how anyone thinks that could end well.

and thank you!! i have so many headcanons so here are some lighthearted quick fire ones off the top of my head:

anakin loves affectionate biting. if a part of padmé that’s feasibly bitable is near his mouth he will bite it. he nibbles at her ear. he bites her shoulder. he chomps her hand. he bites her bottom lip when they kiss. padmé complains but she actually loves it and thinks it’s adorable and when he actually leaves a mark she’s like awww. after a while she just starts biting him back

padmé loves playing with anakin’s hair and if it is in her reach she’ll just start braiding it. doesn’t matter what else is happening. they could be having the most serious conversation in the world and there she is putting little braids in his hair. at a certain point anakin starts coming home with hairstyle requests and playing hairstylist becomes a way to kill an evening

tangential to this another fun thing they will do occasionally is doll anakin up bc he has literally never worn anything besides what is essentially his work uniform and anything else is like the most exciting thing ever and padmé thinks he looks so pretty in makeup

they shower together as much as they possibly can and part of that is shower sex but it’s mostly for the intimacy. they are allergic to not being close to each other of course they can’t be apart for a whole shower

in general they’re the clingiest people in the galaxy and when they’re home alone they are very rarely not putting their hands under each other’s clothes. and again this mostly not horny they really just would be skin to skin 24/7 if that were an option

mentioned this in the post you mentioned but i will reiterate that neither of them are particularly culinarily skilled but they love cooking together so much because it’s an excuse to be in close proximity for a few hours and sometimes they’ll even make something edible. win win! anakin is actually decent at cooking on his own but padmé’s presence is so distracting and her lack of skill is so great it brings them both down and that right there is true love

they don’t fight often but on the rare occasions they do it’s pretty explosive (mostly on anakin’s end) because anakin has Major Issues and this is quite literally the only non-hierarchical relationship he’s ever had, and in a way it’s also padmé’s but in the opposite direction because her only friends ever have been her employees, and boy oh boy can that collide in weird ways. and they resolve it fast enough but they always end up plagued by the fact that they can never fully understand each other because they’re spiritually clingy too and i think if they had it their way padmé would be able to read anakin’s mind and anakin would literally just merge with padmé into some eldritch being. and then they’d never fight again <3

tangentially their worst fights typically lead into their best fucks. they really cannot stay mad at each other at all they find it unbearable

that is broadly all i can think of for now but i definitely have more because i have unfortunately been plagued with star wars brainworms since i was in the seventh grade. i love anidala i love thinking about them i love talking about them i know them better than my own family at this point

[riririnnnn]

When Bachira was first introduced, I actually didn't quite like his character much.

At a quick first glance, it's not tough to perceive him as the stereotypical quirky best friend/companion character for a protagonist—at least, that's what I judged him to be. Not hating on sunshine characters, but the first thing that came into my mind was, "So cliché." After Ego's such an intense speech, I just didn't appreciate the thought of a character being opposite to the more serious tone of the Manga; felt like pushing a character into the bandwagon of, "Idc if I'm weird, I love being me."

But now if someone were to say that they don't like Bachira, then I give them the most diabolical side-eye to have ever side-eyed in the history of side-eyeing.

I don't know how or maybe Rin was speaking with what he had experienced himself, but he grasped Bachira's character much better and before Isagi did (read left to right):

I didn't think of it much at that time, I just thought Rin was just being all high and mighty, but a small realisation did form in the back of my mind that despite the whole concept/ideal of Blue Lock and being a top notch player himself, Bachira always appeared like he was looking for someone and while others were trying make a goal by themselves in the Team Z, he was passing to Isagi—that's one of the reason I think Ego saw through too, maybe that's why Bachira was in Team Z and not higher.

Panning the focus to his childhood:

Just look at him trying to convince them to play more soccer with him.

*sigh*

He is so precious and my heart nearly broke when those kids were calling him gross and weird:

As someone with Mommy issues, you might not fully understand how much I adore Bachira's mother. Without her, Bachira would've lost himself completely. She is just amazing.

..but:

It was because of her that Bachira was able to continue believing in himself. He didn't want to lose the voice that others lost—that's one of the reasons why I think he made an imaginary friend, his monster, so that he wouldn't forget the voice.

However, amidst everything, he was just.. lonely.

He envisioned his soccer through the image of his monster. It was easier that way, at least, for him. However, he could only see that monster in those who were behind the screens—the actual pro players. That's why he wished to play just like them and to find someone who played soccer like him, understood the 'fun' part of soccer.

He was so lonely..

..and that's when Isagi came:

I'm so sorry to all Isagi x Bachira shipper, but I, sometimes, can't help but low-key despise you guys. I'm not saying all, but many of you have just reduced them to a Twink x Twink ship. I'm not against shipping, ship whoever you want as long as it's morally ethical and you aren't shoving it down my throat, but this ship does overshadows the actual beauty of their relation—their beautiful friendship.

Bachira had already started doubting himself whether he'd ever find someone or not—whether he'd be forever lonely with his soccer or not and that's when Isagi came. That's why Bachira loves Isagi so much—he was his first true friend after all.

Just to clarify again, I'm not against Isagi x Bachira ship and neither do I hate it. Please do not attack me. I'm not trying to shame anyone for shipping them.

I hope @thebluelockroyals, you now understand why I think Bachira has a sad backstory.

Loneliness is awful and the fear of never finding someone who understands you and your love for something you enjoy is heart wrenching. Some might argue that he got a wonderful mother, but sometimes, it's just not enough. Helplessness never sees your comfort—he had her, but he wished for someone who resonated in the same frequency as him.

.

.

.

This face screams, "I ated glass":

Younger!Bachira gives me so much baby fever. God! The cuteness aggression! I'll definitely give my own child the same hairstyle as his.