#my dad cries on me at least twice a year

[gorillaxyz]

crying his eyes out over mias favourite movie who rlse wants to kill themselves maybe we can set something up group suicide anyone? i need to get out of this place

[rieamena]

take my hand until the sun goes down

kenji sato & baseball critic!reader headcanons

the first installment

requests put in by the lovely @despacito-uwu16 (bless your beautiful big brain)

marriage hcs ♡

we all know how much ken is in love with you but after that stunt he pulled at the championship game, it got a whole lot worse. he would not let a single chance to call you his fiancée pass by. afterparty following a challenging game? "can't make it, i miss my fiancée." team planning a dinner? "let me ask if my fiancée wants to come!" trying to get out of an agonizing conversation? "oh, my fiancée's calling me." he does not miss a BEAT when it comes to you. and after you got married!?!? oh let me tell you…

he physically cannot stop talking about you. something sweet that you did, how much you are for him, how much he loves you. its gotten so bad that his teammates have to tread lightly when speaking to him just to not trigger a 20 minute long rant about you (they're just jealous!!!). "i took the stray that showed up at my house the other night to the vet and it turns out she's really sick…" "really? that's so sad. you know, that actually reminds me of how my wife and i were eating bread this morning and she just looked so pretty." "how are those two things related!??!"

personal headcanon here but kenji cannot cook for the life of him. he can chop up his vegetables and take out seasoning from the cabinet but do NOT put that man near a stove. he will burn the kitchen down. unfortunately, kenji knew of his innate talent to someway somehow manage to cause chaos everytime he turned on an oven. so what did he do? he started watching you while you cook; occasionally taking notes on online recipes he'd think you'd like. every time you had to leave for an interview or babysit chiho, ken would load up the stove and start practicing. once he felt like he got good enough, kenji surprised you with breakfast in bed. french toast, eggs, bacon, and fruits were laid out on a platter, the delicious smell of it all and the sound of your husband coaxing you from your sleep. "wake up, my love. i made something for you~"

his petnames for you gradually changed as well. 'baby' turned into 'my love', 'my pretty girl' turned into 'my pretty wife', 'princess' stayed though. he loves your reaction when he calls you princess. your eyes become lidded as you look him up and down seductively, "so… are we gonna fuck or…?" ken threw you over his shoulder, teasing your body as he walked to the bedroom, "don't need to ask me twice. you gonna' ride me?" "that was my plan all along, pretty boy."

the first time you called kenji your husband to his face, he stopped thinking. his knees buckled, his heart started racing, his breathing got heavy. he genuinely thought he was about to die but he would be doing so in your arms so it was far more bearable. also!!! he has to kiss you at least three times a day or he dies (i dont make the rules!!). most days, kenji peppers your face in kisses in the morning, presses a kiss to your cheek or forehead in the afternoon, and gives you the most loving and deep kiss just before you head to bed

"[name], i have a crush on you. i love your voice and your smile and you're just so beautiful. i'm in love with you." ken wrapped you in his arms, speaking lowly "ken, we're married. we've been together for six years." "i know but still. just say you don't accept my confession." kenji huffed "no, i do! i have a crush on you too! the biggest one actually. please date me…"

children hcs ♡

kenji is THE girl dad. no questions asked. full stop.

kenji cried and i mean CRIED when you told him you were pregnant. you planned it in such a cute way honestly, it's a shame he didn't get it at first. you baked a couple buns and put them in the kitchen oven. simple, right? wrong. when ken got home and you kindly asked him to look in the oven for you, he was mildly confused. "you just have a lot of bread in here." you lightly pushed him out of the way, taking out every bun except one. "and now?" "you have one bread in the oven." "try again." "you have a roll in the oven." ken winked at you, swearing that he got it right this time. "not a roll but a…" "a….?" "there's a bun in the oven, kenji! i'm pregnant!" 

he was the (self-proclaimed) master of the art of ponytails and braids, often getting compliments from other parents on his skills. his mornings usually started with your daughter climbing onto his lap, handing him a hairbrush and a collection of colorful hair ties. kenji would carefully detangle her hair, his hands gentle but efficient, and then he would create intricate braids that she would show off to her friends at school

kenji also knew every princess, superhero, and storybook character by heart. his nights often ended with him sitting on the edge of his daughter's bed with you, reading her favorite stories with dramatic flair, his voice changing for each character, making her giggle and beg for one more chapter.

one evening, as the sun set and the playground began to empty, she ran up to her dad, breathless and excited. she had found a shiny pebble and declared it to be a magical gem. kenji knelt down, his eyes twinkling with amusement, and listened intently as they wove an elaborate tale about the pebble's powers. he played along, his imagination as vivid as theirs, and they spent the rest of the evening concocting a story that would become a cherished memory.

and at his baseball games, he would always scan the crowd for his two girls, and once he found you cheering loudly in the stands, he never failed to flash his signature smile and give you both a wink.

"i mean, she needs a sister. don't want her growing up an only child like me." kenji whispered as you placed your baby daughter into her bassinet. "darling, if you want another baby, just say that." "please please please, can we have another one??" "not right now. but yes ken, we can have another baby."

requests for them are open <3

taglist <3

@mochminnie @yellowheartz @ririkacchi @ifharbingerbad--whyhot @reit0o @luvshleyyy @lovingyeet @stickypaperstarlight @raee-dreeaaamz @rreasonablydumbb @bandolls @gingersnap126126 @automalvo @spiderboogie @shellspider @blogscach @nightingale047 @deadbydad @deadbydad-writes @phantomface

[girlwithadragonheart]

I need to yap desperately about one single gripe I have with this game. MAJOR MAJOR MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD read at your own discretion

The first half is me ranting about how much certain things mean to me and how impacted I was, and the actual gripe comes closer to the end.

I'll preface this by saying this post is about Varric's death and my rage and despair regarding it, but more so about my Rook's.

I've seen people who said they picked up on the hints about whatnot, who knew before the Fade Prison. I was not one of those people. I was so relieved when I saw him after the Prologue that I didn't think twice, because I knew that it would destroy me the second shit started going wrong.

I was already not having a good time when I started the game simply because Varric was getting older. I don't handle aging well or death, and his design showing his age, and the comments he would make about "getting too old for this" just made my heart break.

And then shit got worse. I sobbed disgustingly when that knife went into Varric's chest.

After Rook woke up from talking to Solas and she heard Varric, I was so gods damned relieved. And my Rook was better taken care of by Varric in that year she spent with him than she was in the rest of her entire life.

I cried from the end of Ghilan'nain's fight until the romance scene and on and off after that. I got so used to visiting Varric just to be comforted by his presence. Inquisition was the biggest part of my life for a year and a half when I was just a kid.

I did really bad middle school age writing for it but regardless of the quality, those characters were built up in my head becoming even more than they were in the game. Varric was my biggest support character through everything I was going through at the time.

I don't talk about it much, but I didn't have a great childhood, and I know a lot of people didn't, but I coped with it through writing and video games. Varric was the one supporting me through the abuse I suffered and writing was the way I processed how bad things really were.

When Rook was in the prison she said "What am I going to find here?" And Varric said "I think you already know, kid." I DIDN'T until he said that. The second he said that my entire chest tightened and I just said "No" out loud as I watched Rook find his body.

Now for my real complaint!!!

Rook never gets the chance to grieve Varric. They go from talking to him every day to finding out he's dead and it was all a lie. I have personally never been more fucking pissed at Solas than I am now. But Rook comes back and they have that kind of "closing off" scene with Varric's empty bed (which was so hard to go through btw). And then they fuck their pookie LIKE I CANNOT BE THE ONLY ONE UPSET ABT THAT

FYM I gotta find out my dad is dead and then Rook is up for boning like there's no fucking way unless it's to cope. And at least pertaining to the Lucanis romance, Rook is processing everything that happened and they can say "So much has happened, I just don't know how to feel."

And rather than getting to process that in some kind of way, the devs said nah this scene serves one singular purpose, and Lucanis says "I do" and then dicks them down.

Personally, I felt very dismissed despite being overjoyed about finally having the romance scene, I couldn't even enjoy it with everything that happened prior.

Rook deserved the chance to completely break down after everything they went through. Tbh i don't know how they kept it together. Varric said "don't get all misty eyed" and i thought to myself that's way too delicate a term for what's happening here, I was fully ugly crying.

Fuck your "I had a good run" I still need you bitch.

All this to say I'm very upset, and I'm running my second playthrough and every time I look at, hear, or talk to Varric I tear up again. Wtf Bioware.

Rook should've gotten the chance to actually talk about what Solas did to them, especially in the sense that he made them believe Varric was still there. Or at least get to properly grieve the person who was their closest friend for a long time.

I have very strong feelings about this obviously

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 13- Step Bro!Dazai/Reader/Step Bro!Fyodor

Notes: I think it's a little ooc, but i really couldn't decide which characters to go with so yeah.

also, uhm, that fyodor header picture has nothing to do with the actual story, i just though he looked so fucking hot with that gun(also yes, ik im using the step silbing/dad concept twice but its just so sexy to me yaknow*)(*and also, if your wondering, i actually have a wonderful relationship with my father)

Ever since you can remember the house had been cold. You didn't call it your house, even though you had lived there all your life. No, it was more akin to a creature unto itself, a perfect reflection of your childhood. You were born in this house, the only child Mother, or Cecilia as she insisted upon, didn't abort. You spent your younger years with a nanny, who cared for you the best she could. She taught you to read and write, and you excelled especially at math. But Cecilia didn't care. She never cared. And the house reflected her disinterest.

The nanny, a kind woman named Martha, had been disposed of when you turned eight. Cecilia decided you were old enough to function on your own and fired the waste of money. You spent your years after that in the library, absorbing information, reading fanciful stories with mothers who loved their daughters. You wondered why Cecilia never loved you. 

When you turned ten, Cecilia brought home a man. She introduced you, and you stood like instructed, pretty and well behaved. He patted you on the head, but never spared you a glance. He was tall, blond and very, very young. Much younger than Cecilia. And he was much too enamored to care for you, Cecilia's little child. Cecilia encouraged this behavior, and although the number of people in the house had grown, you were all alone. You were always alone. But it was ok, you were used to the silence. You sat in your large playroom, and cried into your pillow, muffling your feelings in the silk. Cecilia didn't need your burdensome feelings. 

The summer you turned eleven, Cecilia brought another man home. And this man was kind to you at first. He gave you candy and treated you with kindness, luring you into his trap like a spider. The first time he hit you, you had cried defiantly for Cecilia. And of course Cecilia had not come, for she would rather believe her boytoys over her own flesh and blood. Humans were cruel things, ready to hurt others at the drop of a hat. And Cecilia was the cruelest. Nothing comforted you for ounce as you cried into your comforter, as unloved as before. 

The summer you turned fifteen it was clear you had inherited Cecilia's peerless beauty. You spent the rest of the summer mastering makeup and when you arrived at your private school you were instantly popular. The makeup just elevated your already peerless beauty and people, both boys and girls fell at your feet. You reveled in the popularity, the love. A different kind of love, but love all the same. The house congratulated you, but Cecilia didn't care. She never did, after all.

Your grades never fell however, you simply could not let them. If you were proud of anything, it was your intelligence. It was wholly yours, unlike your beauty, inherited from Cecilia. You hated that you were her creation, hated it with your entire very being. You loved your intelligence, however. It came from your father, you were told briefly by Cecilia, and because you had never met him it was easier to accept his qualities. The house was from your father, his money at least. A gift to Cecilia. 

And the one gift he had ever gotten you was a ring, a gorgeous piece of silver and emeralds that Cecilia had taken, stoll right from your pudgy two year old hands. You had never even gotten to hold it as an adult. You didn't miss it, not really. But you hated the trait you shared with Cecilia, a sense of selfishness, and a love for jewelry. 

 It was on your sixteenth birthday, sitting at a table alone as you were blowing out the birthday candles, that you truly cried without the comfort of your pillows. Cecilia was out, and as you eat your cake, you soon come to realize that you had grown up too fast. You had been an adult since the moment Martha was fired and you had sat in the cold walls of your beige playroom, crying and crying for comfort, something that would never find you again. You were a shell, a puppet, a beautiful china doll empty of  love. You were Cecilia. The house laughed at your plight, as you sobbed into your pillow, muffling your feelings into the comforting silk. 

It was a hot summer day, a few weeks after you turned seventeen when Cecilia broke the news. You were sitting by the pool, sunbathing in your swimsuit. Cecilia simply walked in, spared you a glance, and informed you she was getting married. You felt a small shiver of surprise run up your spine. Cecilia had had many boyfriends, yes, but she never married them. This man had to be different. Or maybe it was her age, and her fading looks. You hated the spike of happiness that pillaged though your heart, you hated how feelings of hatred turned you into a spiteful shrew, just like Cecilia. Cecilia had cracked open a beer, flipping through her magazine, sparing you one last glance. “He has sons, two of them.” She had said, closing the screen door behind her. 

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“There you are, Name. You're late.” Cecilia said, giving you her usual faintly disapproving stare mixed with disgust. You still quail under it, even though it's the same one you’ve seen for years and years and years. You still fear her disapproval, even after all. 

“I'm sorry Cecilia.” You say, straightening your spine. You're still in your school uniform, and the bus was late but you know better than to give excuses. Cecilia doesn't care for those. The little skirt and blazer combo is one of your favorites, and the only thing you truly love about St. Catherine's private school for young ladies. The walls of St Catherines are barren and cold, but not as cold as your own. Cecilia flips her hair, looking perfectly put together as always, although her age is beginning to show around her eyes. She hates it, you know, and you love it. You can't wait for Cecilia to wither away, her personal worst nightmare. 

“Don't embarrass me, Name.” Cecilia says, her cold eyed stair rooting you to your place. “Just smile pleasantly and entertain your step brothers, alright Sweetheart?” She says. The pet name reeks of disinterest but her disinterest is preferable to her anger. For when Cecilia angers the foundations of the very house shake. You nod, and Cecilia takes that as enough. A knock sounds on the door, and any ugly expression is gone from her face as she flies for the door, opening it and hopping into the arms of the man behind it. 

He’s your mothers usual type, tall and handsome, but several years older than you would have guessed. He spins her around, and they kiss. You look away. There are two boys standing behind him on the doorstep, and to your surprise they also look away from the torrid display. Their strange boys, both around the same height, but that is the only thing they share in common. They don't even really look related, but who are you to judge? Done with their display, Cecilia and her new husband step through the door, still attached at the hip. Cecilia throws you a glare, and you put on your customary smile, a smile so fake you feel like a barbie doll. 

“My daughter, Name.” Cecilia almost imperceptibly grimaces at the word daughter, gesturing at you. You smile. “Hello.” You say, feeling like a fake. The man gives you a smile, gesturing at his sons, who have stepped through the door, and now stand on either side of him and Cecilia. “My sons, Fyodor and Osamu.” The one on the right smiles at you, the other one simply gives you a nod. They're so different, you’d almost think them adopted. But you can see their features in their father. 

The smiling one, Osamu, has short wavy brown hair and sparkling brown eyes. He gives you a tiny wave, and you feel your smile become genuine for a second, before you catch yourself. The ones who smile are more dangerous, you had learned long ago. They lure you with kindness and hit you with force. He’s dressed in a wrinkled button down and uniform pants, his posture casual with his hands in his pockets. A matching tie hangs crooked on his neck. It's the uniform for your school, or the boys school across the street. St. Catherines school for young ladies and St. Andrews school for young men share a single campus separated by a metal fence. 

The one on the left side is pale, almost sickly pale, with dark circles to match his long dark hair. It looks soft, his hair, and brushes just below his jaw. H’s eyes are dark, and they run over your face, almost as if they're checking for cracks in your composure. He’s dressed in the same uniform, but his appearance is more neat. His tie is tied correctly, and he wears a black jacket over the rest of his uniform. They are strange boys, but you are very used to strange after all. 

“Name? Entertain your new brothers, Sweetheart.” Cecilia says. You wince at the nickname. You hate that nickname, you hate it so much. “Yes Cecilia.” You bite out, smile still in place. You feel empty, like a porcelain doll. A tool Cecilia can use and discard at any moment. You feel disposable. You hate it. 

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Your new brothers are kind, if a little strange. The quiet one with pretty hair, Fyodor, is a year older than you. He plays cello and dislikes Cecilia, which makes you like him a lot. Fyodor treated you with an amount of distance at first, but slowly warmed up to you when he found out you play piano. He had informed you one day, when he was helping you with homework, that his mother was a Russian supermodel. And he’s handsome, you're not really surprised. He’s kind in a quiet kind of way, less teasing than his younger brother. You also notice how he subtly moves forward, shielding you whenever Cecilia is angry. You love him for it, that protectiveness. 

Osamu is younger than you by about six months, and loud. He quite clearly makes it his goal to be the loudest person in the room and you love how it annoys Cecilia every time he steals her thunder. He’s a very touchy person as well, unlike his brother. He would comfort you with jokes when he saw you were down, and could not cook for the life of him. His reaction to Cecilia was the most reactionary. He taunted her, shot smart alec remarks in her direction, or just plain ignored her. And every time he got a reaction. Cecilia’s face would flush red with anger, and she would strike out, just to be dodged with a snarky little comment. And the more angry she got, the more pleased Osamu became

And they hate each other, the brothers. At first you had thought they got along well, but then you noticed the snarky little comments they would trade back and forth, the glares behind their parents back. Everything is a constant competition, be it a board game or report cards they make it their goal to beat the other each time. And you don't really mind, the house feels warm and full of life, and you feel included. To them, life seems a game, and the people who live it merely pieces, to be moved to and fro to their pleasure. You must assume yourself a spectator, not a piece, but if you were a piece you would like to be the queen. Cecilia didn't like your new brothers, that much was obvious. But she still used them to belittle you every chance she got.  

“Your brothers got all A+.” She would say, pinning you with that faintly disgusted expression she used as default. “And you got an A.” You would surrender to your room to cry in peace, away from Cecilia's proud eyes, and the prying ears of your much to perceptive brothers. 

But if they shared anything, it was a sense of mystery. Because each of them never allowed you to get too close, keeping you forever just a length away. You tried not to take it personally, but you still shed a tear or two. 

But for the first time in many years, you were happy. The house congratulated you, as its hallways filled with laughter to replace to silence, its rooms with color to replace the beige. Cecilia was as unpleasant as ever, but she was busy with her husband, and left you and your step brothers to their own devices. But still you feared it would all go away. That soon, they would tire of you, that they would never let you close, that Cecilia would grow tired of her husband and toss out the trash as she always did. It was a nagging fear that came back to haunt you in dreams, until you woke up in a cold sweat. 

And there's an odd tension that hovers in the air, whenever you and the brothers interact. A strange tension that makes your blood sing with excitement, that leaves you on your toes with anticipation. When Osamu slings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a loose hug of sorts. When Fyodor pulls your hair behind your ear, his cold fingers brushing your face, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It's a tension you’ve felt before, a tension you don't want to give name to, a tension that scares you. But then, you're sure it's just you, that your new brothers simply treat you as a sister, like how you should treat them. You should not desire your step brothers, Cecilia had told you the night before they moved in. But then again, Cecilia had never been a very good role model. 

⋆｡ °✩

It's raining, big fat drops pattering against the roof, wind splattering the droplets against the window panes. A faint clatter can be heard from outside, as if the wind itself is crying, banging at the doors. The wind sounded lonely. It banged on the doors of the world, begging to be let into the light, much like you had when you were young. You wanted to comfort the wind, to hold her in your arms with the warmth you had never been given, but everyone knew you could not hold the wind. So you simply told her to stay strong, and let the night and rain embrace her for you. 

You would always read when it rained. You remembered a book you had read long ago. It had been the one to solidify the wind as lonely, and had been oh so impressionable to your young mind. ‘Keep strong wind’ it read, ‘keep strong and soon the rain and night will hold you in their comforting embrace, will keep you warm and happy…’. You had always seen yourself in the lonely wind, and had dreamed of your rain and night to comfort you. The library had long been your only comfort, and you begged for human comfort, human warmth.(You didn't dare to hope that your step brothers could be your night and rain, because you knew god would hear you and laugh in your face. Because god loved Cecilia, not worthless you.)

Cecilia and her husband are gone, on a weekend trip to Hawaii. You were not invited, because of course not, and neither were your brothers. 

The house is almost silentand with Osamu out at book club the house seems to sigh in relief, giving itself time to relax before the loudness returns. 

You are curled up on the couch with a book, listening to Fyodor as he practices his Cello. It's a cozy evening, the fire crackling in the grate, the strains of the first movements of Brahms – Cello Sonata No. 1 floating through the cozy atmosphere. You hear the piano part along with him unconsciously, fingers tapping your things in rhythm. You can never quite beat the musician out of you, it's embedded into your very being at this point. 

Brahms – Cello Sonata No. 1, the first movement is a deep piece, and slightly depressing if you're being honest. But you love the melancholy that surrounds it. It creates a certain air, allowing the instruments to tangle together beautifully almost as if the melodies are dancing together. They twist like lovers, the parts, dipping one then the other, a beautifully teasing medley of pure emotion, something you could never truly give in life. It would be nice to dance with Fyodor, he was such an elegant human being, from the way he walked to his looks. You imagined the two of you would sail across the floor of the ballroom, his gloved hand on your waist, twirling you and spinning you and only looking at you. You wanted him to gaze upon you with reverence, much like the men your mother married gazed upon her. You want to be loved.

The Cello part comes to an end, and you sit silently for a moment, hesitant to break the spell. Then Fyodor's accented voice, still slightly hushed, breaks through the atmosphere. “How was it?” He says. You love his accent, it feels all full and warm. “Good, good as always.” You say, putting a finger in your book and looking up. “You were a bit sharp on the first note of measure twenty seven.” You're reading Pride and Prejudice, again. You’ve always loved it, and have read it some many times you’ve simply lost count.

Fyodor sighs, leaning back in his chair and resting his cello back into its case. “You always catch my mistakes. What would I do without you, Name.” He says with a small smile. Your heart warms at the praise, your smile threatening to break out of its confinements, all together and split your face in two. You tamp it down, putting on a face of disinterest you're not sure he believes. You always get the vague feeling that your brothers know you better than you know yourself.

You flip through the channels on tv, happy to have control of the remote. It's all the usual, sports games and real housewives and spanish game show episodes. You put on a random movie, which sounded interesting. ‘Essential object of enjoyment,’(is a title that to anyone else would scream softcore porn film, to you, still a sheltered girl of seventeen years old, it seemed as innocent as a daisy. You were not a virgin, but inexperienced and somewhat oblivious, so at odds with your calm adult attitude.) Fyodor plops himself on the couch next to you, a tedious foot away. He seemed too far away but all at once to close, the heat of his body a tease beside you. You clench your legs together, pulling in on yourself.

The film is about a young woman named Maria, who is taking a vacation on a very sketchy manor in a strange small town. It's a low budget film, with crappy acting and even crappier scares, but it's entertaining and you find yourself settling in against the couch, slowly leaning closer and closer to the warm human beside you. And soon, as Maria decides to ignore all the advice of the locals and enter the abandoned church late at night, you're so close your shoulders are almost touching, and finally, you dare to lean into him. 

He lets you, slinging an arm around your shoulders with an excuse none of you are listening to anyway, and pulls a small blanket over your bare legs. “You're cold aren't you?” he says, voice hushed in your ear. You shiver, with a nod. You arent that cold, but you want to be close to him, to feel his heat, his warmth. You're sure he knows this, and you let yourself feel hopeful for once, curling into his body like a pedigree cat. 

And as you watch the movie, heart pounding in your throat, it dawns on you that something is very clearly wrong. The budget is too cheap, but the camera work is too advanced, the camera’s to expensive. The acting is too bad, but the actress has professionally done makeup and hair. And then, as you watch Maria get tied up by the clean masked man, it all makes too much sense. It's softcore porn. You move for the remote, fishing around for it on the couch, desperately. You're already flushing, your thighs rubbing together as you reach around for it. The idea of watching a porn film with your step brother is humiliating and embarrassing and frustratingly arousing. 

“Do you need something?” Fyodor says, rubbing little soft patterns in your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. You nod. “The remote, gonna switch channels.” You're already flushing, but have stopped your frantic fishing for the remote. He frowns in disappointment and you automatically tense, so used to Cecilia’s disappointed or angry stares. “Can we leave it, I'm actually enjoying it.” He says. You glance at the screen, where Maria is now being threatened by a knife. You desperately want to say no, but the people pleaser in you insist you agree. And so, you sink back into his touch, flushing. 

‘Where is it? Where is it?’ The masked man is saying to Maria. The film takes a moment to focus on the actress’s bountiful chest, and you try not to writhe with embarrassment and jealousy. You bet Fyodor likes big boobs, Cecilia said all men like big boobs. Her’s are fake, but you don't feel the need to protest and get a slap. 

The bad guy of the film is a man in a purple mask. He’s thin in stature, and tall, overwhelming Maria’s small frame. He reminds you distinctly of the man sitting beside you, with his face hidden like that. He has a russian accent in the film as well, just like the man beside you, and as he whispers in her ear it does stuff to you. 

‘Tell me where it is or there will be consequences.’ the man in the mask says. 

‘I will never tell you!’ Maria says definitely. You watch in horror as the masked man's thin fingers slip between her thighs. The camera cuts to her face of surprise. It's clear that this is where the actress’s true chops shine, as her mouth drops open in a little oh of surprise. 

You feel hot, biting back a whimper as you press your thighs together, hoping that your step brother doesn't notice. 

‘Your such a slut for my fingers aren't you?’ The man in the mask bends Maria over a table, the camera now showing a cut of his hands pulling her thighs apart. All you can picture in your mind is you as Maria, and the man in the mask as Fyodor. When the man in the film speaks all you can hear is Fyodor’s voice, his teasing lines, him all him all him. 

And then, the other bad guy of the film appears. And honestly it should shock you out of your dirty fantasies, but the other man, this one in a teal mask, sounds very similar to your other step brother. 

You can imagine yourself in Maria's place, bent over a table like that, fingers shoved up your cunt, dick keeping you silent. And most of all, pretty praises falling out of your step brother's mouths. ‘Such a pretty girl, such a smart girl, so good for us, such a slut for us—’

Fyodor’s eyes are on you, you can feel them even as you focus resolutely on the screen. He speaks near your ear, a pur, a whisper, a tease ment for seduction. “What are you imagining, darling?” He says. He speaks like he already knows, and through your haze of arousal clouding your brain you let the words escape before you can stop them. 

“Fingers in my cunt.” You say, your voice a whimper. Maria on the screen begins to moan, loudly. The volume goes down on screen and you're too lust clouded to question why Fyodor had the remote. 

“You want fingers in your pretty cunt baby?” Fyodor purrs in your ear, his long pale fingers teasing the edge of your uniform skirt. “You want my fingers stuffed up that tight cunt of yours? Would that feel good?” You whine, head falling back against his arm, eyes falling closed. 

“Oh yes, please.” Your voice is embarrassing, all breathy and whiny. This whole situation is illogical, and if you were able to see through the haze of lust in your brain you would have backpedaled immediately. But you're horny and in love and he’s encouraging you. 

His fingers caress the edge of your panties, teasing you with glances of touches, driving you crazy. You grip his arm, the one teasing your pussy and shove the hand against your drooling cunt. The man beside you bites back a groan, muffling his pleasure, but you hear it. It reassures you that he wants you too, but also drives you insane, craving sweet relief with his touch. 

Fyodor’s fingers find purchase, clever musicians' hands pulling back the crotch of your panties. He chuckles as you clutch his arm, still clothed in his loose white turtleneck and jeans. “You're so wet darling, your little cunt is absolutely drooling.” he says, his accent doing things to your brain, to your pussy. Your eyes catch on the dirty picture. He drags his fingers through, collecting a fair bit of wetness and popping his fingers in his mouth. The picture is nasty. He keeps eye contact all throughout, sucking his fingers wetly, the dirty slurping sounds filling the room. 

“Here darling.” He holds out his wet fingers, dripping with a mix of saliva and your own arousal. “Suck.” He says. You take them in your mouth obediently, tasting the mix of arousal and saliva. The very idea that you're tasting him, that you're tasting his very being, makes your abandoned cunt clench around nothing, the nasty slurping sounds you make only fueling the arousal perfuming the air. At some point Fyodor had turned off the porn, and now the only sounds that fill the room are from the two of you. A different kind of music than that you're used to, a symphony of debauchery. 

His fingers leave your mouth with a pop, and you open your eyes. He smiles at you, all hazy eyes and spit slicked lips. “Good girl.” He says, and then shoves both fingers in your cunt. You arch off the couch at the abrupt intrusion, clenching down hard around his fingers with a scream. ‘Oh, oh god Fyodor!” You say, panting. He looks vaguely proud as he scissors you open, watching as you thrash around on his fingers, bucking desperately. 

The sound of the door slamming penetrates the haze, and you grip Fyodor’s fingers, trying to stop him. He just continues to fuck you open, grining all the while. 

“Man, fuck you Fyodor.” It's Osamu, looking less surprised and more annoyed. Fyodor just continues grinning as you moan on his fingers, drooling pussy on display. “I consider this a win then?” He says, smirking. Ah, another one of their competitions. You would pay more attention but your being fucked open by Fyodor’s long relentless fingers. You keen as he adds another one, gripping his arm with a nasty whine. 

Osamu speaks to Fyodor, but his eyes are fixed on you. “It's not over yet, you fucker.” He says, slamming his backpack down on the floor and sauntering over to you. “Name declares the winner. Deal?” Fyodor, now rubbing a thumb on your clit nods, holding out his other hand to shake. “Deal, that sound good darling?” You nod around your moans, not truly comprehending what that means. Osamu sends you a rather scary looking grin and pounces. 

They move you into a doggy position first, Fyodor replacing his fingers with his cock. You're already so close, and as you feel the large intrusion bully your walls apart you cum right there, your head falling against the couch cushions. “Oh, oh, oh god, ‘m coming!” You scream, drooling onto the couch. Fyodor grunts behind you. “You're tight.” He coos. Osamu grips your jaw, draggin you off the ouch to look at him. “So pretty too, just perfect aren't you.” His dick is already hard in his jeans, you can see the bulge as Fyodor begins to move, fucking you through the overstime. You whine in pain, the sharp pains of overstimulation mixing with the blinding pleasure they give you. Dazai chuckles. 

“We’re going to fuck you do good darling.” He says, running a gentle hand through your hair. “Make you feel our love.”

⋆｡ °✩

It's when you're three orgasms deep, and you're hung over the couch backwards, a dick down your throat and cum dripping from your pussy, that you maybe start to have second thoughts. Their stamina seems endless, and they bring to the edge relentlessly, their competitive natures making them drive you to orgasm after orgasm. The world is hazy at this point, and all you feel is pleasure, all you hear is their voices, all you want is them, them them. 

“Switch her around Osamu.” Fyodor says, his accent rough though the haze. You feel yourself hoisted up, and now you're folded into a mating press and Fyodor’s fat cock is bullying your walls again. Cum leaks out of all your holes, the loud squelching sound letting you know that you're thoroughly ruining Cecilia's favorite couch. You're covered in sweat, completely naked and makeup ruined, and to the boys you’ve never looked so pretty. They tell you at length, compliments showered on your exhausted form. 

And as you cum yet again, clenching around Fyodor’s dick with a weak cry, you feel so loved, so appreciated, and so optimistic. 

And then you bended into another position, Dazai’s dick lodged into your ass, Fyodor’s in your dripping cunt.

⋆｡ °✩

“So, which of us won anyway?” It's Dazai, and he sounds plenty exhausted. You sigh tiredly, holes dripping cum onto the carpet and exhausted. “Draw.” Is all you manage to pant out. 

Fyodor beside you chuckles. “I guess we’ll have to have a rematch then.” You're exhausted, but you feel your pussy clench tiredly at the mention of that. “Yeah.” You sigh out tiredly. The boys chuckle beside you, each pressing a kiss to your cheeks. 

“Love you Name.” You hear them whisper in your ear. You smile as you drift off the sleep. 

End Notes: I am actually a piano player, and every time I listen to classical pieces nowadays I feel really bad because I haven't been practicing lately because my piano teacher is taking a break because she had a baby. 

[nofingjustaninchident]

Hi!! HAPPY JASON DAY!!!!! Could you write a blurb about waking dad!jason up on his birthday with your kids??

ᯓ★ happiest day

summary jason was never a weak man. he never cried. well, that, until his greatest gift came for him

warnings none, just pure fluff. not proofread!

now listening to beautiful boy by john lennon

thirty years. how in hell could he already be thirty years old? but, actually, if you bother to think, it’s not already. he’s really old for a demigod.  

thanks to the gods, quite literally, his work as the pontifex maximus ended when he was twenty-four, and he could finally retire and live a happy, peaceful life with his dear girlfriend y/n and his friends.  

one year later, in their eight-year anniversary, he finally proposed to her. y/n would easily say that this one was the happiest day of her life. one year later, the happiest day of her life was her marriage.  

but, another year later, the couple would receive the news that completely changed their lives. at twenty-six years old, y/n discovered her pregnancy.  

surely, jason had several anxiety crises while his baby - for the love of jupiter, he’s going to be a father - was still in the making. he was absolutely terrified. what if he wasn’t a good father?  

eventually, all of his worries were shut down with the greatest moment of his life. at twenty-seven years old, jason grace discovered that the most perfect thing in his life wasn’t saving the world twice. hell, no. it was hearing his daughter cry for the first time. he had never, ever heard something so… perfect in his whole life. he cried like a baby as he cradled the sweet little baby in his arms. she looked just like him.  

the little girl, nathalia, was the greatest gift y/n and jason could ever ask from the gods. jason cried more in the last two years of his life than on the rest of it. first words - which were obviously papa -, first steps, first time she ate solid food and so many more moments. 

so, as a gift for his thirtieth birthday, y/n decided to make him a surprise alongside little thalia. the older woman made breakfast in bed for him while their daughter prepared a little gift for him.  

as soon as the sun was up, so was the two girls. ever since parenthood, jason started waking up later than he used to. which meant that now he wakes up at seven thirty on dot. they had to wake up even earlier, which gained y/n a few whines from the younger child. 

eventually, they got to finish everything they had planned. y/n picked up her daughter and held her on her hip. they went upstairs and opened the door to the suite, where jason was sleeping peacefully. 

"go on, honey," y/n said, putting her three year old in the floor. "go wake papa up." 

the infant immediately rushed to the bed and jumped on top of her dad, leaning down and giving him lots of kisses in his cheeks. "papa, wake up! it's your birthday!" 

the man slowly started to open his eyes, and he was sure he was in heaven right in this moment. the two women he loved the most, waking him up with kisses? life was never better. "good morning, pumpkin."  

the kid gave him one final kiss and got off his lap, "good morning, papa!" 

when thalia was finally off him, it was y/n's turn. she went to her husband and gave him a long kiss, making the kid gag and cover her eyes. the couple smiled and y/n gave him a warm hug, "good morning, love of my life." she muttered. 

"morning, sweetheart." he muttered back, wrapping his strong arms around her. then, he glanced back and saw the plates with the breakfast and a few gifts. He smiled widely and pulled away, "this all f' me?" he asked, jokingly. 

"course it is," she answered, "you deserve that and much, much more." 

oh, he was already feeling the tears. but he refused to cry – at least right now.  

"papa, papa! open my gift!" the little girl squealed, handing him a little white card. he grabbed it and, when he opened, he couldn't stop the tears from forming and flowing. the gift in question was a drawing of thalia and jason together with the sayings "papa is my hero" and "i love my papa". he swore he never felt happiest. 

"oh, my dear, dear pumpkin," he said, pulling her in for a hug, "you're the greatest gift the gods could've ever gave me. I love you so, so much."  

the drawing, for the curious ones

[sword-is-bored]

I Met You Once

(Link X Reader)

Feminine (Y/n)!

Ocarina of Time

“(Y/n)!” The young girl turned her head, finding a boy in green on horseback. She tilted her head, wondering how he could know her name. “I’m sorry… do I know you?” He looked a couple years older, but not by much. “Oh! I’m.. uh.. yes. I’m Link. I was talking to your older sister. I just wanted to meet you.” The young girl tilted her head and smiled. She knew her older sister enjoyed talking with strangers, especially when she ventured to Castle Town. Maybe… this would be a friend for her. After all, their quaint house tucked far away wasn’t something she was able to leave. The young fairy boy seemed keen on talking to her. “It’s nice to meet you, I haven’t heard anything about you.” She said. Link shrugged and got down from his horse. “This is Epona. I..” He blushed, holding out his hand. “I wanna be your friend. I’m ten. I heard you’re eight.” She blinked and slowly nodded. “Yeah. I am. I like your horse. She’s pretty.” (Y/n) took his hand and shook it. Link grinned. “Great! Come on and pet her.”

So, (Y/n) did. She stroked the mane of the gentle horse, still a young foal herself. The two began to chat more, and (Y/n) found she really liked this boy. He had traveled all around Hyrule and visited… everywhere! All the adventure she had yearned for in her young years. “I have to stay home, mom and dad want me to be the perfect lady.” (Y/n) said softly. “Why’s that?” Link asked. “Oh, when I get married.” She said nonchalantly. “Married?” Link asked slowly. “Yeah. I have a fiancé.” (Y/n) hummed. “A fiancé?” The young girl grinned at the boy’s question. “Yeah! It’s super cool! When I get big enough, I’ll get married. So mom and dad want me to know all the things I need to be the perfect wife.”

The perfect wife.

The words had rang clear through the young boys brain. However, he had witnessed a different fate.

Years later, when Hyrule was crumbling.

Tears that (Y/n) cried when he had met her.

“I hate him. I hate this man. I hate being married. I’ve… already had two children. My body is ruined. I’m ruined. I wish.. I wish I never agreed.” An older Link had witnessed this, and brought the memory back to the present. “Link… I wish… you’d found me. I love you. I’m sorry.”

“(Y/n)… you shouldn’t marry him.” The young boy whispered. “Why not? Mom and dad say he’ll treat me so nice.” Link stared at the girl, biting his lip. “Promise me something? We’ll stay friends, okay? And you can tell me anything. And I’ll do anything to make sure you’re happy.” He asked. (Y/n) thought it was a weird request, but shrugged it off. A friend. That’s all she’s ever wanted. A true friend. “Okay, and I’ll do the same for you.”

Years passed, and Link made good on his promise. He would visit at least once a week, if not twice. (Y/n)’s parents found him irritating, but he never meddled in her marriage again. (Y/n)’s 16th birthday was nearing, as were her preparations for her marriage. “I’m really excited Link. After this long, I’ll be able to meet my fiancé soon.” She gazed at him, as they sat in Hyrule field together. Link hummed, picking at the flowers around them. “Yes, I’m sure you’re excited. But is this something you want?” He asked, tilting his head. Throughout the years, Link had lost his childish charms. He had grown into a fine young man, and (Y/n) couldn’t help but to notice him. Really notice him. The way he protectively stood with her, how kind he always was. How he could make her laugh, even at the worst times. Something… she wants? (Y/n) had to sit back with herself. Did she want to get married? “And you’ve never met the guy? What’s so great about him anyway?” Link prodded. (Y/n) frowned and thought to herself. “I don’t know. I guess… the fact that someone wants me. I’ve been spoken for for as long as I can remember.” She murmured. “Don’t you think that’s… creepy?” (Y/n) shook her head. “Not even a little?” Link asked. “If I were engaged for that long, I’d at least want to know what my wife looks like. Her name, her face, the way she laughs… you know. Something.” (Y/n) brushed Link off. “You wouldn’t understand.” She mumbled. “But… (Y/n). That’s… forever. Marrying someone.” (Y/n) huffed and tugged at the instrument Link carried around. “Okay, whatever fairy boy. Play me a song. I don’t want to talk about that anymore.” Link rolled his eyes and took the ocarina back from her. “Yes, princess.” He murmured and began to play a soft tune.

He just… couldn’t shake the way she looked at him. And through these years he had fallen in love with her. The way she laughed, the way her eyes sparkled when she was truly happy. He needed to see that smile. He wished he could do more to show her how much he cared for her, as more than a friend. Sure, at first this was his heroic heart. He needed to save a girl who obviously couldn’t save herself on her own. It’s what was right… but… now? Now his heart was in on it. He couldn’t… shake what he saw.

(Y/n) told him she was fourteen when she married this man. He was thirty eight years older than her. Fifty two. Marrying a child. “He made me happy at first and then… he treated me like a slave.” And that’s all she was to him. A servant. And it crushed him to see her like that. He spends a few days with her, under the guise of being an old childhood friend. He… fell in love with her so fast. So hard. He figured he could save her before any of this. He was already altering the future, why couldn’t he do it again?

“Link?” He jumped up as she snapped her fingers a few times. “Hey, did you hear me?” (Y/n) asked sitting back in the grass. “Maybe. Maybe not, why?” Link asked, feeling embarrassed he had fallen that deep in his thoughts. “I told you I’m getting married. In a week.” His heart seemed to stop and he looked at (Y/n). “What?” He hissed. “I’m getting married in a week. I was told yesterday, isn’t that exciting?” Link slowly reached out and took her hands, staring daggers into the ground beneath them. “(Y/n). I’ve… I know what your life will be like with him.” He said slowly, delicately as not to scare her. “You cannot marry him. Please. You.. you have to trust me. Okay? Say the word and I’ll take you away. Far away. I’ll protect you, and make sure no one ever takes away your freedom to choose again. But you have to trust my word.”

(Y/n) searched his gaze, finding nothing but panic and pain for her. Her heart clenched and she realized in horror… did she love him? She pulled her hands away and stared at Link intently. “I.. I don’t…” The words escaped her mind. He looked up, his eyes finding hers. And for once she could see her future. Laughing and running, cuddles and soft kisses. Waking up in the night, finding his sleeping body beside hers. A comforting and fulfilling presence. She bit her lip and closed her eyes. “I’m scared.” She said simply. Link pulled her into a tight hug, nodding softly. “I know. I am too, but I promise I’ll protect you. And I promise you’ll be so much happier. Trust me.”

She did trust him. With her life.

“Okay.” She breathed, hugging back. He pulled back and smiled, gently tilting her head up to look at him. He leaned in close, and she did as well. They shared a gentle kiss before Link pulled away. “I will come to get you the night before your wedding. Take anything you’d like. You won’t be returning.”

The day came, and (Y/n) waited anxiously in her nightgown. Her window cracked open and the familiar head of her lovely fairy boy poked inside. Their gazes met and he held out a hand. She smiled and took it, climbing out of her window with him.

To freedom.

(Happy ToTK release my friends :))

[oddvanilla]

Not really venting because it isn't my type of thing but like YK some stuff should be let off my chest☹️

Idk why but I feel like I'm a side character in my own life 😭 not just that I feel like a robot (closest thing to that feeling) like everyone else has emotions and can be sad or angry and I just. Exist. Like that's all I have going on...

Sometimes it's a good thing!!! Like hey at least I have no mental illnesses or anything. I'm just always content with my life, and so far this whole year I only felt INTENSE sadness like 4 times and it just went away in the matter of like 3 hours. Even then, that wasn't sadness,, it was just anger at myself. I don't really associate crying with sadness, because I cry here and there for dumb reasons... last time I cried was when I heard my best friends say I love you because I REALLY needed that. And the time before that was me winning a football match on FC 24 against my dad, then I started crying because I started thinking about maybe it would be the last football game he'll ever play with me ☹️ but yeah, last time I cried was like a month ago. It's really rare that I feel like I need to sob or anything. As I said, it's good because people always associate me with happiness and ooo energy.

This isn't the problem tho. I feel like I know so much about everyone but nobody knows crap about me. Like trust me I'm an open book, ask me about anything and I'll give you an extended answer with a life experience + analysis. I get so excited when anyone asks me anything personal like my favourite colour or my favourite hobbies. It's not my friend's faults', trust me. They're amazing people and I will love them forever. But I feel like they're the main characters in MY life. I just happen to be the one who is always taking every picture and recording every moment. But I'll never be in any of those pictures because I'm the one holding the camera.

It makes me sick, I need to know every little detail about my friends, my family, even just a Tumblr mutual, but the closest people to me don't even know my middle name. I love my mom but she doesn't know what I like to do as a hobby. She has no idea that I like writing, or history. But I know everything about her. That's the case for everyone. This feeling makes me sick because I always feel overwhelmed. By the time I wanna go to sleep I'm stuck in bed for 3 hours without sleeping yet because my head is thinking at a thousand miles an hour. I always feel like I have to cut off people here and there so my life can weigh a little less😭

Everyone knows this one, I'm a heavy extrovert, and I talk all the time but it's never about me. When I'm yapping I'm either explaining how something works or talking about that one memory with my friends. I'm not used to venting because I'm scared of someone saying "not everything is about you". I've never been friends with a listener, everyone else talks and even I TALK, but I wish there was just someone out there who knew what's my biggest fear or smth.

Moral of the story, I feel like I bottle my feelings all the time. I think twice before I hit that post button and decide that it should stay in my drafts because oddvanilla is this person who's always happy, if you see me venting it'll be awkward. I don't want anyone to solve my problems, I just don't HAVE any problems to begin with. I just wish someone would listen this time. Hi just notice me pls I have feelings other than energetic!!!! Please keep it in mind at least that I wanna be heard :( I'm sick of speaking up for everyone who can't but I never get a chapter in the book for myself. Even if you just say something like "same omg" at least it would feel better that I'm not alone in this messed up feeling.

[messydiabolical]

15 Questions For 15 Friends Tagged by @daisywalletchains cheers me dears Are you named after anyone? No. My dad wanted to call me Chelsea after the football team. Thank you mum for the firm HELL NO on that one. When was the last time you cried? I don't know, some time in the past week probably, I get weepy when i'm very tired and I have ME/CFS so I get tired easily. Do you have kids? No. I really wanted them but health and circumstances meant spouse and I made the difficult choice not to. What sports do you play/have you played? I am not at all sporty, but I did do this 'help poor urban kids get off their arses' horse riding course as a kid which was a lot of fun. Do you use sarcasm? It's my first language What is the first thing you notice about people? Interesting clothing/patterns/colours. I'm like a magpie looking for shinies. Also if they use a lot of eye contact (I'm a side gazer/eye avoider) What's your eye colour? grey-green. Swamp, if you will. Scary movies or happy endings? both. I love horror, especially shlocky silly goofy horror. Any talents? I can suck my nostrils shut like a camel Where were you born? England What are your hobbies? Drawing, rewatching comfort shows, playing bass, gaming, spending more time modding games than gaming, finding old lido's to swim in with my mum (okay that's only about once or twice a year but we get very excited about it) chatting with my spouse. I don't know if that counts as a hobby but we are both chatterboxes and after 18 years we still have so much to say. A good chunk of each day is just us rambling away at each other so i'm counting it. Do you have any pets? No. And i'm a former vet nurse so I know that's wild. I live in a studio flat, there just isn't room for me to care for a pet to the standard I would want to. I am on hand to help out friends with their pets when they need health help/pet sitting though. How tall are you? 5'3" / 161cm Favourite subject in school? Geography and the sciences. Dream job? Veterinary nursing with a specialisation in emergency and critical care. Can proudly say after a lot of hard work I made it, at least for a while until I "medically retired".

tagging: I know this asks a lot of irl details so absolutely do not expect anyone to answer! I wouldn't anyway but you know what I mean. @illusivesoul @n7viper @itsthevoid @sillyliterature @princessbutts69

[thehighpriestess1]

Your Keisuke hcs were so cute! It's giving me major baby fever and I don't even have a boyfriend 😭

Do you have any hcs about Gojo from the last two parts of August?

It gave me a major baby fever too 🫠.

1) Gojo is still Paranoid. Even though he is grateful for having y/n and Keisuke, everything changed too fast for him and sometimes he can't believe that it's all real.

2) He often watches y/n sleep and wakes up often at night to check on y/n and Keisuke. He would also walk over to the windows and check the door locks because he is scared that someone might try to harm them.

3) He has a folder full of printouts from daddy and my blog. He has an on call pediatrician and often talks to him about what kind of lifestyle is the most healthy for baby.

4) He likes to have Keisuke lay on his stomach and play with him.

5) he once accidentally made Keisuke cry and has a mini heart attack over it. Turns out Keisuke just wanted to be picked up by his dad.

6) it hurts him that y/n still doesn't utilise the wardrobe that he has spent a year creating. Every morning when y/n walks out of the wardrobe Gojo's eyes land on her ring finger, everyday he hopes that she puts on the ring and everyday he gets disappointed. He still loves her more and more everyday and knows that she just needs time.

7) Sometimes Gojo would purposely match clothes with y/n and tease her about it at breakfast.

8) he gets jealous easily! Y/n hardly talks to anyone except Jerry but every time she is talking to the chef or another guard Gojo gets jealous.

9) Gojo checks up on y/n via the hidden camera at least twice in an hour. Like is sad, the man is Paranoid.

10) The day y/n showed him the photos, he cried a little but controlled his emotions for her. He didn't want her to see him cry and think of him as weak.

Sorry I took quite some time to write this. I hope you still get it anon 💖

[theragethatisdesire]

hey there! congrats on reaching 1000!

Not that i am surprised, you are a GENIUS and i ADORE you but you know that 💕

Number 6 is screaming ti penso!eren at me, something fluffy, maybe? you can take it further if you feel like it, though :]

- fic-d (your hype machine)

HEY FIC TEXT ME BACK

anyway i'm so happy you brought this up bc i had the same thoughts hehehehe find your baby ti penso eren down below being a menace per usual

-

Now that you've officially become a party of three, soon-to-be-four, your life with Eren is more chaotic than ever, but god, is it so full of love. Mikasa and Jean welcomed their second baby boy, Ben, a few years ago, just around the time you and Eren had Charlotte, and the two have become inseparable.

One of the greatest unforeseen perks of parenthood that you and Eren have discovered is parent friends. Not only does it give you an excuse to hang out with Mikasa and Jean all the time, but it's a break from childcare for the both of you with all of you teamed up against the little menaces you've brought into the world.

And the ultimate conjunction of parent hang-out time and teamwork-style childcare is the annual family vacation.

It's late, too late for you to be up, but in the early stages of your pregnancy, sleep eludes you. It was the same with Charlie, you remember the first few months being restless, so you're not surprised.

It does leave room for you to be awake when Jean and Eren come crashing back in from "Dad's Night Out" though.

"You almost gave me a heart attack!" You breathe, one hand flying to your chest as they stumble through the kitchen, ripping food out of cabinets.

"Babe!" Eren cries, mouth already stuffed with one of Charlie's snacks and arms wide. Your eyes widen, head tilting meaningfully towards the stairs that lead up to the kid's rooms.

"Sh! God Eren, how drunk are you?"

Eren saunters over, or tries to at least, tripping over his feet twice in his short trip across the kitchen. He wiggles his eyebrows at you in a poor attempt to be seductive, the wrapper of Charlie's fruit gummies still hanging out of one hand.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Okay, so very," you shove him off of you, quickly catching him when you realize your light push is going to send him tumbling to the floor, "what did you do to him, Kirschstein?"

"He did this to me," Jean slurs, pouring a cup of cold, stale coffee from this morning into a mug and tossing it in the microwave. "I haven't been this fucked up since college."

You cock an eyebrow at him when he punctuates his statement with a painful-sounding hiccup. "Mikasa's going to be pissed if you're too hungover for the beach tomorrow."

"Oh my god," Jean's jaw goes slack, "she's going to kill me."

"I won't be too hungover," Eren sidles up behind you, arms wrapping around your plump waist, kissing up your neck, "'specially not if you're going to wear that red bikini."

"Eren," you moan in annoyance, shoving at his face again, "let's get you to bed."

"What about me?" Jean cries, aghast. "I can't go to our room, Mika's gonna kill me, remember?"

"You can sleep with us," Eren offers, lifting his hands up as if he's solved everything. If he was any more sober, you'd think he was joking, but you know better.

"I love you Jean, but no." The relieved smile that was forming on Jean's face drops into a scowl.

"Well, I can't sleep with Mikasa. Don't you value my life at all?"

After twenty more minutes of hushed bickering, you slide into bed beside Mikasa, who stirs sleepily to look at you.

"They overdid it, didn't they?"

"I put them down in me and Eren's bed," you mumble, grumpy and half-asleep now, "Jean was too scared to come sleep in here."

"Jesus Christ, how drunk were they?"

"I think they were cuddling. So much for the beach tomorrow," you lean into Mikasa, letting her pull you close like you used to when you roomed together in college and had had a bad day.

"I'm going to kill him."

[st4rgzer]

KNOW ITS FOR THE BETTER p.1 (Conrad Fisher)

summary: you return for another summer, little do you know this one will be very very different

genre: angst

cw: uuh there's not very many, just maybe some self esteem issued implied?

a/n: I just got the random urge to start a multiple part story about Conrad so yeah, there will be more parts, so if people like this, I will release them.

Me and Conrad have been best friends since we were kids, I'd always come with the Conklin's to the beach house every summer, it was my second home, and I loved it.

Belly and I were like sisters, she was my best friend, I'd spend the nights in her room gossiping about boys, doing our nails and makeup, I was the shoulder she cried on when Conrad talked about other girls. I didn't think much of it at first, I mean, if he talked about other girls all the time with me, I'd be upset too, it was normal, right?

Conrad and I were also inseparable. One summer, he broke his elbow in an attempt to skate and he couldn't go out for 3 weeks, I didn't think twice to stay with him there, we played card games, ate ice cream, rewatched the goonies for the 100th time even though he was the only one who enjoyed watching it, I listened to him whine about him not being able to do anything for what felt like an eternity, but that he was thankful he had someone to sit through it with him. I never knew I liked liked Conrad till the summer I turned 14. I don't know why but something just clicked, It wasn't even something special, we were on the beach while belly, jere and steven were splashing around in the water, it was night, and even though I knew it was always chilly on the beach when it was late, I refused to bring a sweatshirt, so I was freezing cold, he looked at me and laughed, I got embarrassed. And he gave me his sweater, no words were exchanged, we just sat there in silence looking at each other, smiling, for just a few minutes, but long enough that I noticed the butterfly's in my stomach weren't just a figment of my imagination I chose to ignore, they were real, this was real, and the feelings I had for him weren't just platonic.

Forward 2 years and it was finally summer again, and no, I never acted on my feelings, I knew belly liked him, I knew she would be mad if she found out all the times she was rambling on about how "perfect" he was, I was thinking the same, she wouldn't be happy.

This summer, Belly got pretty, don't get me wrong, she was always pretty, she had this natural beauty I envied and adored, but according to everyone else, she had a "glow up", which basically meant she got her braces off and got older. I never thought I was very pretty, not in an insecure low self esteem way, but in an "I'm average" kind of way, I wasn't special like belly, I didn't light up a room when I entered, I never really tried with makeup, when I did I'd look like a clown, this summer I got better at it, I still didn't think I looked very good, but other people complimented me so I just kept doing it, Taylor showed me.

We got out of the car and Jeremiah, Conrad and Susannah were waiting for us, when belly got out of the care I swear I saw their mouth drop, hugs were exchanged as I silently waited for my turn.

"Y/n, hi!" Conrad says, stopping to look at me, it's weird, he'd never stared at me like that before, at least I don't think he ever has

"hey Connie" I reach for a hug, I breathe in his cologne, the same one he wore since his dad gave it to him when he was 12, it was way too strong for his age but he still liked it.

"You uh...you look really good" of course, the makeup, that's why he was looking at me like that, is it because I look silly? Or is it because I look good?

"thank you! You too" I say standing awkwardly, we've never had trouble with conversation before, this was definitely weird.

"Hey y/n/n!!" Jere shouted before engulfing me in a hug, he hasn't changed.

After the hello's and how are you's, Conrad and Jere did the annual Belly flop, a tradition I normally enjoyed, but they did it while I was talking to Susannah, they didn't call me, I ignore it.

Belly dries herself off and joins me, Susannah and Laurel in the kitchen, Susannah compliments Belly, telling her how pretty she got, I decide to go to my room, it's not that I didn't want to hear how gorgeous Belly was, but I just prefered to not be there.

I looked around the room, the green wallpaper that Susannah picked out, the Ivy bedsheets, the saltwater scent that flooded the room, and suddenly I finally felt at home for the first time since I got here, I lay on my bed, letting the duvet engulf me. I closed my eyes, then I hear a knock on my door.

"come in!" I yell, not bothering to move from my very comfortable position

"hey" Conrad walks in, I immediately sit up as he enters, looking around the familiar room

"hey, what's up?" I ask, slightly confused as to why he came all the way up here instead of shouting from downstairs for me to come down, like he usually does, the only times he came up to my room like this was when I was sick, or had my music too loud and wouldn't hear him yell from the living room.

"Is something going on?" He says very forward, hands in pockets. Why would he think something was going on? Did I do something that seems like something is going on? Maybe it was the way I said hello, or the way I lingered in the hug, maybe.

"No, why?" I lie.

"I don't know, it just seems off" he wasn't really the type that expressed feelings or addressed things, somehow with me it's different. We always say what we're thinking, well, apart from the fact that I have feelings for him...we haven't got there yet, maybe that was the reason I seem off, am I being too obvious?

"What seems off?" I pretend not to know. I'd rather act like I don't know anything than tell him the truth, even if that means lying to him.

"Us...we seem off, I don't know, maybe it's just me" He sits on the side of the bed, looking around, trying to focus on anything other than the conversation.

"Well, I've only been here like, 20 minutes so..." I laugh in an attempt to lighten the tension.

"Yeah yeah, totally...ok well, nothing then" he says scratching the back of his neck, still failing to maintain eye contact. There's awkward silence for a few seconds before he gets up.

"Well um, I'll see you later?" He says while pointing finger guns at me.

"Yeah of course" I chuckle as he leaves the room, he hesitates for a second before giving me a tight lipped smile

"Bye..."

"...bye"

I sit there staring at the door, wondering if he'll turn back. I know I shouldn't be lying to him, it feels wrong, but I just know I'll feel even worse of he learns the truth. It's for the better, right?

a/n: AAAAH I have a vision ok, bare with me

@iha8you @dwntwn-strnlo @20nugs

[twoidiotwriters1]

Daughter of Olympus (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: It's family time! -Danny Words: 2,295 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter / Next Chapter Listen to: 'Matilda' -by Harry Styles

XXIX: Not the Reunion You Wanted but the Reunion I Needed

Ara's surprised to see her two parents pick her up from camp. The first thing they do is hug her so tightly that she feels like they're about to break her in half. 

"Guys—the windpipes!" She chokes out.

Sally's crying, and Ara doesn't know what to say to make it better. She wishes she could ease the woman's mind, but lately, words of wisdom aren't coming to her in handfuls.

"S'alright," she mumbles, gently rubbing her mother's back.

"Hi, sweetheart," Paul pinches her cheek lightly. "Ready to go home?"

The trip back is quiet. Usually, Percy and her talk, and their parents listen. Today, all she does is stare out the window while her dad tells her about the school she'll attend next year.

It's hard to come to terms with how weary she is. Life is not simple and she's barely halfway through ninth grade. Things change, you fall for people when you least expect it, and then you build an entire life around... What? The idea that nothing will vary but it won't feel the same way twice?

Sally goes directly to their apartment to tidy up the kids' room before Ara gets there, and Paul asks if Ara can check the car before going up. She feels there's more to this than just a regular check-up, but she stays either way.

The girl opens the trunk and takes a look. "What's wrong with it?"

"The breaks are stiff. No cushion."

Ara stares blankly at her dad. "Cushion?"

"When the car stops it screeches," he rephrases.

"Which side?" Paul points to the left. Ara glances at the tire, then shrugs. "Could be the brake pads or the cylinder thingy."

"You can fix it?"

"'Course I can. I'll take a better look tomorrow," she gives him a brief smile. "Is that it?"

Paul steps forward and places a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I know you like helping, but here you are our daughter and nothing else. Understand?" Ara nods. "Good. How've you been?"

"Well... I guess I could be better." 

Ara tries to be strong, but she cries as soon as she locks eyes with her father. Paul is the only person she feels is safe to cry to. Sally needs her to be calm, the camp needs her to be brave. But Paul? He just wants her to be his daughter.

They grew fond of each other fast, Chiron always felt more like a teacher and didn't fulfill the requirements to be a father figure. Ara used to think that she would never know what having a dad felt like, but when Paul entered the picture, everything changed.

They had been a beautiful family for a year and a half, and she'd loved every second. Now that Hera has stolen an important piece of them, Ara is angry and frustrated, and the worst part is that she doesn't feel allowed to be, part of her thinks it's her fault.

"We'll find him," Paul rubs her back. "It's only a matter of time, and time moves fast when you keep yourself busy."

Ara hiccups. "I-I don't want my mom to see me like this..."

"I think she needs to see you like this," he retorts. "She thinks you're bottling up your emotions."

"I just don't want her to think... that I'm not strong," the girl sobs.

"You're fourteen, Ara, you don't have to be strong all the time," he guides her into the building. "Let us worry for you."

Tomorrow will be my fourteenth birthday, and today is the first time I'll be a real player in Capture the Flag. Rest assured that I'm planning to win. There's a problem, though, Percy and all of my friends from the Hephaestus cabin are playing against me.

"Hey, Connor," I approach trying to look tough. "Hope your loyalty isn't compromised..."

"What do you mean, Jackson?"

"Lily plays opposite tonight," I raise my eyebrows.

He looks a little worried, maybe he thinks I'm charmspeaking him. I wouldn't do that, but I do think it's fun that he thinks that. "Don't know what you're talking about."

Travis walks past us. "She's talking about your fat crush on Saggio..." 

Connor laughs nervously, his skin glows silver. "That's crazy!"

"Listen, we all know it. Except for Lily. Maybe."

"Don't worry, Birdy," Travis walks past us again. "I'll keep an eye on him. And you."

I snort. "Good luck."

After dinner, Sally enters Ara's bedroom and sits on her bed. "Would you like a bedtime story?"

Ara fidgets with her blanket. "Do I really have to go back to school?"

The woman sighs and rubs Ara's leg over the blanket. "We should be together."

"What if that puts you in danger?"

"Ara, I love you as much as I love Percy, and as your mother, I want you around no matter what."

"But the camp—"

"You can go on the weekends. But you need to attend school, and you need your parents. Chiron agreed."

"Chiron wants me out of camp because of the stupid prophecy," the girl blushes at her own outburst. "Sorry."

Sally continues in a calm manner. "Well, that's all the more reason. I want to spend as much time with my daughter before her untimely demise."

"That's not funny, Mom," Ara makes a face.

"You know what's funny," the woman gives her a playful look. "I don't think I ever heard you ramble about a boy like you did tonight."

Ara groans, falling back on her pillow. "Mooom..." 

"It was like the time you found that bronze dragon, and all you wanted was to—"

"He's called Festus now," Ara informs her. "It means Happy. Leo named him—he also named my lion Pollo. Leo thinks it's funny. He's weird..."

"You like that he's weird?" Sally smiles knowingly.

"A little," Ara blushes. "Don't tell dad."

"He's just sorry that you're no longer a little girl..."

"Well, if it makes him feel better, I decided not to pursue Leo," she replies.

Sally frowns. "Why?"

"Mom, it would be so much work. I don't have time to—"

"Are you marrying him?" Sally raises a brow.

"What? No, of course not!" Ara exclaims.

The woman chuckles. "Dating is not rocket science, Ara. You should try to have fun with it."

Ara stares at her mother. "Like it's a themed park?"

Sally eyes her with worry. "How long has it been since you did normal teenage things?"

The girl shrugs. "I went to the mall a few days ago..."

"The one where you found the lion?" Her mother asks pointedly.

"Okay, fine. I've never had a 'normal teenage experience'. Bit impossible to achieve being who I am."

"Promise me you'll find ways to have a good time, at least," Sally puts a strand of hair behind Ara's ear. "Don't feel pressure to do anything, all I'm saying is, you're safe in the mortal world. Try to enjoy it."

To be honest, Ara's not sure she remembers how to enjoy life.

She believes she's safe here, though. Even now that things got hard, her parents don't blame her for what's happening. She loves them and she wants to be a good daughter, so she's willing to let go of most of her guilt and try to be happy for them.

Yet... she can't stop feeling uneasy. Nothing has felt right ever since she turned fourteen.

Beckendorf made a special armor for his group that works like a chameleon's skin. Silena and Annabeth asked me and Lily to find them.

"Here!" My friend seizes me by the back of my armor, almost choking me. We're a good team, Lily and I.

Luckily for us, the boys didn't hear me dying, they were too focused on the dangers ahead. 

"Myrmekes," Percy mutters.

"Holy Hephaestus!" I stand up from behind the bushes. 

Both boys jump in alarm, Percy knows right away what I'm thinking. "Don't get any closer!" He and Lily say at the same time, both scowling.

"Look at it!" I exclaim in disbelief.

The thing is the size of a refrigerator, all gold with strange ridges on the sides and a bunch of wires sticking out at the bottom. The ants turn it over: It's an automaton's head. I gasp and try to walk towards it, but Percy pulls me back. 

"Easy, Dr. Frankenstein!"

"A head..." I say in awe. "A dragon's head!"

"It's a sign from Hephaestus," Beckendorf agrees in astonishment. "We have to stop them."

"What? Why?"

Before we can do anything, Silena and Annabeth stop us. Beckendorf sneaks away when they get distracted, and the Myrmekes get him. See, if I had gone after the head, this wouldn't have happened, but no one listens to the little girl.

To save our friend, I pull out the metal detector I built a summer ago (Percy and Lily look at me as if I'd planned this from the start) and turn it on. The thing goes crazy right away, there's a huge trail of mud on the side of the hill, so it's easy. We find the rest of the body in less than ten minutes. 

My friends help me get the dragon's head down, and Annabeth says she's not ready to try this out, so Percy replies something pretty cheesy.

"Get out of the way!" I scoff, squeezing between them. Gods! Falling in love distracts people from what's important. 

Annabeth asks Silena for her dagger and opens the dragon's panel on the back of its head. 

"Well, those who don't know anything about machines, step aside," I kneel next to the automaton's neck, eager to put it together. "Hello, baby! Are you ready to come back to life?"

"Ara..." Lily crouches beside me. "Keep in mind that this thing's unstable, okay?"

"It's a machine," I roll my eyes. "Just needs an adjustment and it'll be good as new..."

"There's only enough time to activate it," Percy reminds me.

"Okay, well, you guys are being super helpful," I reply sarcastically. "Hephaestus wanted Beck to find this. We're safe."

I take off my helmet and study the loose wires. Annabeth leans down next to me and helps me where she can. We work together to reattach the head, and our hands end up greasy and bruised.

"It's done?" Lily asks.

I share a look with Annabeth and nod. "Think so."

Percy asks how to turn it on and Annabeth and I point at the two large rubies. Its eyes have to be turned clockwise. My brother makes a couple of sarcastic comments that I prefer to ignore.

"Everyone take cover," without further ado, I turn its eyes.

I watch as the machine comes back to life. The best thing ever created in camp is in front of me, and I finally understand what Hephaestus means when he says that it's possible to build perfect things.

The earth shakes as the dragon gets up, bathing us in the dirt. As a way of celebration, it shoots a column of flames straight into the sky. "Fire!" I exclaim delightedly.

"Well," Percy stammers. "It worked."

The dragon looks at him and comes to sniff us. I'm beyond happy, but my brother looks terrified. I see him grab his sword and I spring into action. "Hello! Hey, cutie!" The creature watches me closely. "Listen, there's a son of Hephaestus in trouble!" The dragon tenses and waits for instructions. I look at the others smiling. "See? He'll help."

"How do you know that?" Silena asks unconvinced.

"I don't!"

"Perfect," Lily groans. "We're letting the crazy one lead the mission. Beckendorf is so lucky..."

We guide the dragon to the ant nest, but I refuse to leave it alone. 

"Ara, stop being so frustrating!" Percy snaps at me.

"I don't want it to get damaged!" I complain.

"I'll stay with her!" Lily offers. "If things get hard I'll drag her ass away from the forest—Go!"

Maybe it's because she's Annabeth's sister, but Percy feels comfortable leaving me in Lily's care, except maybe when it comes to training. Though he can't deny that all the muscle and height I've gained it's thanks to her and Michael.

"Our parents will kill me if you die, so don't!" Percy warns me. 

"Mike's going to kill us..." Lily says grumpily.

We spend the next twenty minutes decapitating Myrmekes (my sword is really good at it) and helping the dragon up the hill. It's a miracle we don't get splashed with their acid.

"You had to obsess over the wild dragon!" My friend yells from behind me. "I'll need a nap after this..."

"You can sleep during my birthday if you like!" If we survive.

After the dragon tears down the roof of the nest and drags our friends out, what I was fearing starts to happen: the dragon melts with the acid the creatures are throwing at it. 

Beckendorf yells at us to get away from it, I do it only because I trust he'll save it. When we're out of reach, he yells a command and lightning shoots out of the automaton, electrocuting the ants around it.

Beckendorf tells me it was a bad idea to activate it and insists that it's too unstable. I'm forced to accept that maybe he's right once the dragon charges at us. I follow Beckendorf to the top of a small cliff and watch the automaton, its behavior feels strange. 

What if it's following us because he's waiting for instruction? Suddenly, to me it looks like a puppy following its owner, excited to play. "Beck..." I start, but he doesn't want to listen.

"Now!" Exclaims my friend, and he pushes me so we land together on the dragon's back.

"Wait!" I urge him. "It doesn't want to hurt us!"

"He tried to toast your brother's face!"

"He's energetic!" I insist. "Can't you feel it?"

Beckendorf seems to understand what I'm talking about, but he still rejects my idea. "It's too unstable, Ara."

"But—"

"We'll come back for him," he promises. "For now, it's better to deactivate it."

I really don't want to, but I trust Beckendorf, he would never lie to me, so I give in. "Ugh!" I yank open the panel. "You do it!"

Beckendorf rips out the cables from inside the dragon's head and I try not to feel guilty as the dragon's eyes turn off and it freezes up in place.

I tell myself it'll be okay. Beck promised we'll come back soon.

Next Chapter ->

Taglist.

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[dollarbin]

Shakey Sundays #6:

Neil Young and Promise of the Real's The Monsanto Years

Somehow this album is cursed in my biography. Every time I try to listen to it something goes deeply wrong. And it's no wonder: in the silly recording session photo above it looks like Neil is casting an evil spell on all of us. Monsanticus!

When the record came out in in the summer of 2015 I was suspicious; Neil had just released Storytone, and it sounded like he'd focused on painting the record's cover and washing his hogs rather than writing good songs. Plus I'd never even heard of his new backing band with their too terrible to be ironic name. Crazy Horse was alive and well; what was Young up to now?

But 20 years previously I'd been equally suspicious when Young got spooked by the Horse and buddied up with a different group of young hipsters to make Mirror Ball, and that record turned out to be awesome. And so I knew The Montsanto Years deserved my open-mindedness in spite of its clunky title and fairly gross cover art.

So I turned it up loud for the first time with my buddy Matt. It was a beautiful day and we had an open road with two hours of drive time ahead of us. Maybe we'd listen to it twice!

But halfway through the album's third song, People Want to Hear About Love, with its inspired-by-Stephen-Still's-very-own-Joe-Lala bongos, and its gather about me young squires chanting, not to mention Young's crankiest grandpa vocal stylings to date, Matt and I simultaneously announced that the song sucked. We put on Zuma instead.

Even so, People Want To Hear About Love, stayed annoyingly in my head all day, and that day was dedicated to attending our friend's younger sister's funeral. I couldn't shake crusty grandpa Neil off at the graveside as my friend's 20-something little sister was lowered into the earth, her life cut short by cancer that came with touches of abhorrent irony: she'd been a nurse; her dad was a cancer doctor. You're wrong Neil, I angrily thought, no one wants to hear about love. Nor do they ever want to hear your song again.

I've given the record sporadic second chances since then. And every time I get to the fourth track, Big Box, I perk up. After all, it opens with Neil alone, playing a demonstrative and churning, here's how it works kids, follow my lead, riff that sounds like it's lifted straight from Mirror Ball.

But before you know it Neil croons "Too Big To Fail" in overdubbed fashion and rhymes "excited" with "Citizens United" (you know, the Supreme Court case that gave corporations the power to essentially buy our elections) and, despite some pretty exciting guitar interplay whenever Young shuts his trap, rather than echoing Mirror Ball the whole thing sounds like Young is hanging out with Kai Ryssdal or David Brancaccio on Marketplace. Come on Neil, that's my least favorite show on NPR.

Yesterday I gave the record yet another try: but again, no dice; my 15 year old ipod (no, I don't own The Monsanto Years on vinyl; I got it in true Dollar Bin fashion by checking it out at the library) played me the first two songs, the lyrically regrettable opening track, which isn't amazing but does not suck, and the pretty lovely, quavering Wolf Moon, before the device (it's the kind with a dial on the lower half; there are 22 thousand songs on the thing, and around 1600 of them are Young's), perhaps disgusted by my choice for this week's Shakey Sunday, cried uncle and died in what appeared to be the very real Steve Jobs kinda fashion.

I was able to resuscitate it eventually but I'm unsure whether or not to risk resumption of the album. After all, it's cursed! And when the terrible day comes, and my ipod refuses to wake back up no matter how many times I pressed down all the buttons at once while cursing, will I need to find another way, either through a very nonDollar Bin purchase of the vinyl or through Neil's old timey, betamax website, to listen to The Monsanto Years ever again? Or can I just stick with Zuma?

Well, let's find out the answer. It's a Shakey Sunday and I'm about to roll my ipod's dice, press play, and go song by song through the rest of Neil's far too long screed against agrobusiness.

The fifth song, A Rock Star Bucks a Coffee Shop, is a big No vote for the record. Yikes. I'd rather drink a big cuppa GMO than hear Young rhyme GMO with Mont-san-to ever again. Whoever is responsible for the whistling in this song needs to never purse their lips in my presence again.

I suspect POTR (I refuse to ever type the band's terrible name out again; I wish they'd named themselves Promise of the Real Sausages instead) are big fans of Young's live bender record Time Fades Away. Working Man's got that vibe but it's slick instead of shakey. Yuck.

In Rules of Change Neil gives us yet another version of the story he's been telling over and over again for the whole record: the farmers have woes; climate change is real; we're doomed unless we get on Uncle Neil's groovy train of love. Look: I'm an environmentalist already. I do what I can to eat sustainably; I ride my bike to work alongside my sweet daughter as much as possible; and I've got a bootleg gray water system already running out the back of my house as we speak, watering my trees with our laundry water. The simple truth is that I never needed this concept album, or any of Young's too numerous to count environmental anthems. I already know this stuff. I'm already angry and I already vote and if Trump gets elected next fall I'll lose my mind a second time. Frankly, Neil, I'd much rather imagine sleeping with Pocahontas.

But it's when we get to the album's title track that I start to wish my ipod was indeed broken.

The song is a terrifying double to Danger Bird: it's slow and brooding with caveman vocals. But the guitar is mostly sickening instead of life changing and everyone's chanting "Safeway" instead of telling me about Carrie Snodgrass sleeping around with some still unknown famous enemy of Young's and ruining his life in 75. I guess Neil's right, people do want to hear about love. And Marlon Brando. And the Astrodome. And me.

I haven't got much to say about the final track, If I Don't Know. It occurs, and it sucks less than most of what we just sat through. What I fear is that Young is letting some young hipster solo at the end of the song while he stands by, contemplating corporate sin. Jimi Hendrix is dead, Ira Kaplan is busy, Richard Thompson isn't interested and Stephen Stills sucks; no other man on earth should be allowed to solo on a guitar while on stage with Neil.

(But I'd be more than happy to have any number of women do so, however, from Leslie Feist to Myriam Gendron to the recently resurgent Joni Mitchell herself.)

Okay folks we did it. We made it through The Monsanto Years. You have my permission to never listen to it again.

Me? As of this moment, while I hit post, I'm already half way through the record for the second time today, and I'm kinda digging my time at the Big Box store. Looks like I like the record anyway.

Neil Young: even his garbage swings.

[hottakehoulihan]

This week was M*A*S*H week.

I have the box set. There are eleven seasons and two movies. As I understand it, first someone published a book (I haven't read it) about what they then no-doubt spelled as "high-jinks" at a Mobile Army Surgery Hospital during the Korean War. The first M*A*S*H movie was based on the book, I think, and leaned into laffs about drinking and sex. Honestly, I had an okay time, even despite things I consider to be sexual assault, and a non-hateful use of the N-word and a few other problematic racial and gender things. The movie dates from 1970 and is about 1950.

Also, I love the theme song. The song was authored by a teen, allegedly, on behalf of teen's dad (who claims over and over that it's a hilariously silly song. I think he doth protest too much. It's got pith to it. Also I'm basing this off of half-remembered Wikipedia but I'm not risking opening that website right now I have things to do)

Anyway that's it for the initial movie; goofy and unkind-in-a-standard-way, but designed to make you feel like you're one of the people doing the laughing and that the victims are acceptable targets. I zoned out a bit during a football game in which some nonconsensual doping of opponents may or may not have occurred. I still love the recreation of "The Last Supper" and want to make a desktop wallpaper of it. Not bad. I had some wine with it, which helped.

The TV series has eleven seasons. I watched some of the final season and will, as time permits, watch more of other episodes on a whim, but for all that I've got this username I am affectionate towards the show in the same way I am affectionate towards raccoons; I have the love, but almost always at a distance. But yeah; pleasant stuff. Sometimes a bit blunt, but we're dealing with a show that started before Dragnet was a thing (probably), and it was good for its day. I cried at least twice.

The TV show was a lot more serious and--in the words of some people who are usually not folk I want as friends--preachy. Unlike most things I've seen on the telly, it was consistently an improvement on silence and meditation. Sincerely, I mean that as praise. Even at its most formula, it was good formula, IMHO.

The final movie is the point of what I was pursuing this project though. I've got at least one beloved mutual(tm) as a fan, and between that and also realizing the final episode/movie of MASH was super famous in early TV-watching history as the most-watched episode of all time multiple years running? And my somewhat retro username? I felt silly for not having seen it yet.

My vapid verdict? It's good. I was expecting a great deal and still I was surprised. There are elements that have been cribbed from it (and it's possible it cribbed from earlier art but I have no reason to think so) in later works; one of the most heartwrenching overheard conversations from the Mass Effect games, I think, borrows from the movie. I feel like they managed to cram, into whatever the run time was, three times the content and impact that they'd have accomplished if they broke it up into episode-length segments. Anyway, tears and stuff, and the damned guys need to hug more and they'd better have kept in touch.

I endorse watching the movie if you haven't seen it. If you've never watched any of the show (it was one of the few things available to me during a somewhat-controlled childhood in which I was often supposed to have zero TV or internet or video games) I actually think it would be worth your time to watch a random selection of episodes.

tl;dr: The final episode movie of MASH = worth watching a few MASH episodes to warm up for prior to watching it, then watching it, and then maybe having a bit of a break.

[kart0]

August 15th - My 22nd Birthday

Can't say it was a perfect day, or even a good day. It went pretty shitty, as it usually does. Nothing too bad, but small things added up and then I just couldn't hold myself together anymore. I've been dealing with pain in my arms for quite some time now, went to the doctor twice, and now started physical therapy. Haven't been able to draw and had to postpone some commissions which took a toll on me. Can't draw to relax, nor play games, nor cook, nor do literally anything.

My dad got mad at me for a mistake he did.

Tried to bake some cupcakes to give to my friends at uni but everything went wrong, I worked so hard on it, left my wrists burning in pain only to just fail.

My classmates sung happy birthday to me, which would've been nice if we were in a private room, instead of being in class with every single colleague of mine and even the professor. Whom which I highly dislike. It was very embarrassing and I felt weird.

I wanted to walk alone home to wind down but one of my friends insisted on walking together because it was my birthday and I shouldn't be alone, but I really needed some alone time to get myself together.

Couldn't find my favorite comfort ramen ( neoguri ) for weeks and it's been driving me crazy.

I didn't have lunch bc I was stressed with the cupcakes, only to end up deciding not to take them with me, so I was hangry and sad.

Some people I considered dear friends didn't even send me a happy birthday message, and even planned a birthday party to a different friend whose birthday is in a few days.

I was so upset, we went out for dinner and just seeing my dad made me start crying again. I didn't get to enjoy any of the food because I was crying and couldn't taste anything and that made me even more upset. And it was very painful to hold chopsticks so I ended up only having 3 slices of sashimi for dinner.

I couldn't stop crying at all and ended up sobbing for two hours straight, even though I was trying my hardest to stop. I couldn't control myself.

We went to the movies and watched Coraline, and I managed to distract myself and just pay attention to my favourite movie ever.

We got home, cut my cake and talked a bit about silly things and funny stories and that's when I finally felt content.

I think I don't really like celebrating my birthday. I don't like being the center of attention, and I create these high expectations that people will do these crazy things and love me and it'll be fun and amazing and perfect. Which obviously just makes room for disappointment.

I like the day before my birthday, and the day after my birthday, but never my birthday. I always, always get sad.

I do think it's no one's fault, tho. Just unlucky, and a coincidence. But it does make me wonder if I will ever have a good, happy birthday celebration.

Idk, I hope so. I mean, at least one, c'mon.

Anyways, I cried a bit more writing this, but I feel way better. My eyes are super puffy and sore and burning, and I'm just tired. At least I don't have classes tomorrow... I still need to wakeup early for my physiotherapy tho. Anyways. This was definitely a year... Very bad things happened, but also very good things. It balances out.

I'm happier than before and honestly, I think it's been a very long time since I've felt anywhere close to this. I'm glad I'm still here.

Hoping I will have an even greater year next.

[faindriart]

What is TCC aka The Canic Chronicles

Some ramblings to kind of explain this story I'm working on.

TCC is a story I came up with at 13/14 years old (2008) and wrote roughly 3-4 books (planned of 5), and I rewrote the first book many, many times throughout middle and high school. I also rewrote it in 2013 for NaNoWriMo, when I was a college freshman, but ultimately shelved it because I was trying to get traditionally published with other story ideas. The edits I had on that draft date to 2014.

So the story has been with me for most of my life. I literally grew up with the characters.

The story has always centered around Ariia and her father, Narok, and the consequences of Narok's actions in the past affecting the present violence happening between certain factions in the larger world.

He fucked a foreign princess and pissed off her incel betrothed, ok it's a TIME

2024 Ariia

In older versions, it was a Major Plot Twist that Narok was Ariia's biological parent. Honestly, it might still be a little bit of a twist, but it wouldn't be dragged out for two novels..... /cries

I'd rather not go into all the old story elements because it'd just confuse everyone, but as I've been developing the new version, a lot about the worldbuilding and plot has changed. The major characters are mostly the same, though some are getting new backstories and lore.

The old version had a lot of themes I was not equipped to tackle as a teenager: colonialism, racism, sexism, sexual assault, slavery, etc etc. I also didn't have any queer characters, and there are some insensitive elements written in to old versions that now make me cringe.

Basically, I'm glad I let this thing sit for a decade while I figured out who I am (a queer trans person lmao) and got some real life experience.

ANYWAY.

The working summary (RIGHT NOW) is that Ariia is an orphan raised by a thieves guild. Narok is what's called a King's Mercy (mercenary/monster hunter type station to put in the least complex terms), though he is a former soldier who rose pretty high in the ranks.

He's spent the past 12ish years looking for answers on what happened to his three kids who up and disappeared after war broke out a decade prior. Ariia gets tangled up with him when he's hunting a specific fugitive, and he realizes who she actually is to him.

Shenanigans ensue because Ariia can like, talk to ghosts and shit, and there's a lady in blue who keeps haunting her dreams and oh nooo WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE GHOST IS ACTUALLY HER MOM (one of the most powerful mages of her generation) WHO'S BEEN IMPRISONED IN A TOMB FOR THE PAST DECADE FUUUUCCCKK SHE'S NOT DEAD NOR HAS SHE BEEN USED AS A PUPPET MONARCH BY HER INCEL COUSIN/BETROTHED THIS WHOLE TIME?? (He has definitely been using a body double of her after he murdered her entire family,,,)

I'm still working on the details, it's fine.

Narok's backstory BEFORE ALL THAT THOUGH is that his clan is based loosely off the vikings. (His race, the Canites, are inspired by various groups in northern Eurasia but I'm still working on that. his dad was from a clan that hunts w/ eagles for example.)

He's an only child, he's trans, and he ran away from home to join the King's Army because they have FREE HRT!!!!!! also because his clan is matriarchal and his mom is overbearing and he didn't want to inherit anything.

There are certain levels of transitioning in this world, and the one Narok went with is the most extreme. It's a magical process that causes a total body transformation at the cellular level, so afterwards, he is basically a cis dude in all ways except his birth. (like his organs got reformed and shit, he's got a PENIS NOW)

This type of healthcare is expensive and hard to get, but Narok was desperate lmao He was like "i am a man and I'm gonna be a man and no one can stop me I'm going all in fuck it we ball"

So he becomes a soldier. Ends up getting together with Kasandra, the second princess of a neighboring kingdom, gets her pregnant TWICE, they get secret married, her incel cousin-fiance finds out and has already been planning a coup anyway so fuck it he kills the whole family and imprisons her in a tomb bc he still needs her magic to access the gods.

Narok thinks she betrayed him, and he has no clue where his kids are!!!!!!! He has really bad depression bc of it!!!!! and also PTSD !!!!!!!

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There are also other fantasy races of my own creation in this world. The groups are divided into Therians -- people who can shapeshift into animals/beastmen -- and Humanoids (regular humans and "elves". they're called something else bc trad pub is weird about elves). Therians and Humanoids can procreate together, but Therians can't intermingle with each other of different types.

The four main types are canines, felines, bats, and bears. Canines can cross w/ other canines but not with felines, for example.

There's two magic systems because I HATE MYSELF. Therians have their own magic called "wild magic" and Humanoids have to access magic from the ley lines/gods. Still working on all Da Rules and who can do what and when and UGHGUGH I HATE MAGIC SYSTEM BUILDING IT HURTS MY HEAD

There's monsters/magical creatures too, like dragons and unicorns, but I'm not sure how active they'll be in the overall plot.

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anyway that was long as hell and I hope it at least made a tiny bit of sense. thank you for reading about my blorbos, they are special 2 me.