#perhaps the all time favorite thing I’ve ever designed

[quiltingwitch]

✨The Sailor Princess of Power Gem Labyrinth Adventure Mega Meta Magic Sword ✨

[redstarwriting]

the clash | i. hey, ho! let’s go!

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 1.1k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, hobie hating you, you hating hobie

a/n: it’s here 😎 no but fr, i proudly present a new series focusing on hobie brown, loml. i‘m trying to make it gn, so if you spot anything that needs fixing lemme know. i also did include a bit of a description of what you look like, but it’s mainly just to affirm the gothic spider-person look. and if you don’t like it, you can just pretend it isn’t there, my character designer brain just took a hold while explaining lol. enjoy y’all, there’s more where this came from 👀

now reading: i. hey, ho! let’s go!

next chapter: ii. time bomb

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In theory, the two of you should have been great friends. Best friends, even. He’s called Spider-Punk, and you’re called Spider-Goth, this alone made Miguel assume the two of you would get along better than all of the Peters. Unfortunately for Miguel, he was dead wrong. It was fine at first, a good introduction. “Spider-Punk, meet Spider-Goth,” Miguel says, motioning to the two of you. You simultaneously turn your heads towards him, “Don’t call me that.” You look at each other, seemingly sizing each other up after speaking the same words at the same time. In reality, the two of you were checking each other out, but no one needs to know that. “Fine. Hobie, meet (Y/n). (Y/n), meet Hobie,” Miguel says as Peter B. Parker hops next to him, excited to see the two of you interact. Your gaze first fell on his many piercings, which suited him very well. Almost as well as the spikes coming out of the shoulders of his tattered denim vest. “See somethin’ you like?” you hear his thick cockney accent, and you shrug. “The constant changing makes it difficult,” you say, causing him to shrug. “I hate consistency,” he says, staring you up and down. “I like the guitar,” you say, and he nods. “Everyone does.” You raise an eyebrow, and he takes in the way your heavy black eyeliner makes the expression look more exaggerated than it is. His eyes go down, taking in your outfit, which seems to be varying in different gothic styles, but overall is all black with silver studs, spikes, and charms sticking out everywhere. He notices the two of you share a liking for combat boots, and perhaps his favorite thing about you are the intricate and all black spider-web tattoos on your hands crawling their way up your arms. Hobie clicks his tongue. “Goth, eh?”

“Yeah. Is that a problem with you or something?”

“Feisty for a goth.”

“Instigative as all punks are.”

“What… is going on,’ Peter whispers to Miguel who shakes his head. “I thought they would be best friends?” Peter suggests as he places a binky in Mayday’s mouth. “I did too…” Miguel says, “Maybe this is just a way these types of alternative people talk?”

“Tal vez tengas razón… Hobie does love to be abrasive for no reason,” Miguel concludes, and Peter shrugs and they zone in on the two of you again. “...I don’t suppose there’s no reason we shouldn’t get along,” Hobie suggests, raising an eyebrow at you. “I agree. We probably think similar things… for the most part.”

“For the most part, huh?”

“Just that we have similar ideas, but most likely not the same,” you respond, and he crosses his arms, his guitar moving loosely behind his back. “Opinions on anarchy. Go.”

“It’s the ideal society—”

“Good start—”

“But completely unrealistic.”

“Excuse me?” Hobie looks at you with a glowering expression. “Humans are inherently assholes. Selfish, shitty, assholes. As amazing as it would be to have anarchy running rampant,” you shrug, “It’s unlikely it will ever happen.”

“You can’t actually believe that,” Hobie says, exasperated, “I mean you actually think that we can’t achieve it? You get enough people angry, and they rebel, they push for anarchy. I’ve seen it happen; I’ve led a rebellion.” You roll your eyes. “And do you live in a perfect anarchical society now?”

“Not yet, but we’re gettin’ there,” he clenches his teeth, and you sigh. “I admire your blatant idiocy disguised as an ambitious dream,” you say, and he huffs. “Would you just talk like a normal fuckin’ person and stop usin’ these dumbass words and shitty poetic language?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, or are you as deaf as your ideologies?” This time you scoff. “I don’t have the time to be berated by someone who lives in their own delusions to try and feel the slightest bit less angry at the world for giving him the shitty cards he was dealt.”

“And I don’t have time to listen to the rubbish ramblings of a miserable twat who digs desperately into their black hole of a heart to try and feel somethin’ when the truth is they don’t even know what they stand for,” he fires back. You glare at him. He glares at you. As if on cue you both flip each other off before you web away. Peter’s voice cuts through the silence.

“Well, that went horribly!”

Miguel punches him on the shoulder, resulting in a soft ‘ow’ and a tiny angry noise from Mayday. “What the hell was that Hobart?” Miguel nearly yells and Hobie snaps his head towards him. “Don’t call me that, neither! They don’t get it. It’s not enough to want to make a difference in the world. You need to take action. Goths love to sit on the sidelines and lament instead of playing the offensive,” Hobie explains, a deep frown on his face, “Watch out for them. They might not be able to do what it takes when it counts.” Miguel sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Hobie, you’re supposed to show them around—”

“No, fuck that. I’m not goin’ anywhere near that gothic monstrosity,” Hobie says shaking his head in defiance. “We made a deal. You would show all the younger spider—”

“Yeah, well you can shove that deal up your fuckin’ ass, mate, I’m not doin’ shit for them!”

“Okay, okay, calm down there, man. Why don’t you just ask Gwen to help you? Maybe Miles and Pavitr too? That way you fulfill your promise, 'cause I know promises are important to you, and you won’t have to talk to them!” Peter reasons and Hobie looks over at him. He furrows his eyebrows. That would help the situation. And maybe he’d be able to help you see just how garbage your take was with Gwen on his side. “Fine. But I’m not doin’ it cause I need help, and I’m not doin’ it because you told me to. I’m doin’ it cause it’s the last thing that they’d want,” Hobie says, pointing at Peter while saying it, flipping Miguel off, and then webbing away. Peter looks at Miguel who is clenching his fists… and his jaw. “You seem stressed, but don’t worry about it. Not all of us need to like each other, I mean there’s so many there’s no possible way we all could and look at you, you hate Miles even though he’s awesome and—”

“Shut. Up. Peter,” Miguel growls, stalking away while mumbling various things in Spanish. Peter looks down at Mayday. “Tough crowd,” he says as she giggles up at him.

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『 tag list 』

@casmosmoon* @khaleesihavilliard @sparklyphantom​ @weyrrii* 

*if you are italicized - i am unable to tag you for whatever reason, feel free to reach out and see if we can fix the issue

[anbaisai]

RAISING MY HANDS. These are less romantic hcs but more general hcs that I see them having lmao. (Sobbing I guess these also lean more towards scenarios too ig? 😭)

- The first time they ever slept together, Mayu accidentally kicked Jamil off the bed.

- I always joke about Mayu wearing the pants in the relationship, but I can see her being the type to spoil Jamil with small gifts. (Literally tiny trinkets that reminds her of Jamil.)

- Mayu teaches Jamil how to use the chopsticks, and with how easy Jamik picks up on it— it ends up being his favorite kitchen utensils. (Multipurpose pair of sticks... I'm telling you he'd be unstoppable with it)

- Jamil has pattern recognition, and specifically whenever he sees the mayusprout(tm) and the general onigiriness of any objects his mind drifts to the prefect, maybe he even vocally expresses it. (Cue Mayu sneezing)

- Mayu isn't picky with food, but she probably becomes particular with the quality of it after tasting Jamil's cooking. (Did Jamil's cooking became the standard of whether a food tastes good? maybe. Does Jamil take this information well? He's smug about it, but face to face with Mayu? he's in his hoodie)

- I like to think that there was a moment when they're more comfortable talking about the OB incident; that Mayu teased Jamil about the faces he made during his... crashout. By teasing I mean she made her best impersonation. Her face is expressive I think she can pull off THAT face.

- Jamil's opinion on the above hc is: "Good grief, Ace is rubbing off on her."

WHAT HELLO TATO YOU COOKED SO HARD- ⁉️💥💥 Hold on hold on give me a second to go through them all omg-

- Jamil has pattern recognition, and specifically whenever he sees the mayusprout(tm) and the general onigiriness of any objects his mind drifts to the prefect, maybe he even vocally expresses it. (Cue Mayu sneezing)

HFKDSDFJ Jamil at the local plant store seeing one (1) succulent plant with 2 leaves and immediately thinking of her 😭 moving this one to the top bc it was my favourite & i could not resist doodling it-

- The first time they ever slept together, Mayu accidentally kicked Jamil off the bed.

HELP DID HE TRY TO GET BACK UP OR JUST ACCEPT HIS FATE ON THE FLOOR 😭😭 imagining him sighing and grabbing an extra blanket to camp out on the floor because he thinks he might be kicked off again-

- I always joke about Mayu wearing the pants in the relationship, but I can see her being the type to spoil Jamil with small gifts. (Literally tiny trinkets that reminds her of Jamil.)

True?! You know her so well this is extremely in-character of her… she’ll just be gifting tiny (and arguably value-less) things, but he’ll nonchalantly accept them and keep them all stored somewhere only he knows…

- Mayu teaches Jamil how to use the chopsticks, and with how easy Jamil picks up on it— it ends up being his favorite kitchen utensils. (Multipurpose pair of sticks... I'm telling you he'd be unstoppable with it)

Chopsticks are genuinely so versatile and useful despite their extremely simple design I strongly agree with you 😤 Side note I’ve seen characters like snipe an insect out of midair with chopsticks - which I am sure Jamil wouldn’t do, but perhaps Mayu sneakily does it to keep him from freaking out when she notices a Malicious Creature buzzing near… (He sees her do it and tells her she MUST throw those chopsticks away now. Burn them, even. They are irreversibly tarnished.)

- Mayu isn't picky with food, but she probably becomes particular with the quality of it after tasting Jamil's cooking. (Did Jamil's cooking became the standard of whether a food tastes good? maybe. Does Jamil take this information well? He's smug about it, but face to face with Mayu? he's in his hoodie)

LOOOSERRRRR we all know how smug you are about this outcome STOP pretending you’re not 🫵🫵🫵 – Mayu eating restaurant food or something and thinking to herself “Hm, this is missing some [insert spice name here]” and it’s all because she’s used to the way Jamil seasons it

- I like to think that there was a moment when they're more comfortable talking about the OB incident; that Mayu teased Jamil about the faces he made during his... crashout. By teasing I mean she made her best impersonation. Her face is expressive I think she can pull off THAT face.

- Jamil's opinion on the above hc is: "Good grief, Ace is rubbing off on her."

LMAOOOO it’s just what you get from being around someone like Ace sorry, his talent with doing impressions of others will naturally influence you (shakes head)

Jamil overthinking it afterward because dear god he is so embarrassed did he actually look like that?! (Blanket cocoon time or something)

[evilasiangenius]

“Aziraphale!” The distress and anguish in Crowley’s voice startled him, and then a split second later the world seemed to flutter and fold before him and-

Darkness. Aziraphale realized his eyes were closed and he opened them.

“That’s...odd, I’ve never been unconscious before? Have I been unconscious before?” The answer to that, Aziraphale thought, was that he had only been willingly unconscious before with Crowley and that sleep was a totally different thing. The angel sat up, and then looked around. He had been propped up in a very comfortable armchair, and covered with a blanket, up to his neck.

“Well, that seems very thoughtful,” Aziraphale murmured to himself. “This is already a much nicer kidnapping than I would have expected from a kidnapping. I suppose this has been the nicest one ever.” Rubbing his head at the memory of being whacked unconscious by a Duke of Hell, Aziraphale looked around.

The room was dark, but for the glow of city lights coming in from the window, and it was hard to tell where he was; he could have been in any number of major cities, anywhere in the world where it was still night. Wherever this was, it looked like the inside of a hotel room, and a very nice one at that. The white paneled walls limned with gold leaf, the windows draped with plush pale blue curtains the color of a robin’s egg, the furniture modern and yet graceful in a way that seemed to hint at rococo, with a particular quality that suggested that if they were not in Paris, the designer surely was trying to make it feel as though they were in Paris.

Nervously, he pushed off the blanket – and it was very nice, but had been made in a modern factory, and the scent of an unobtrusive industrial detergent made it clear that there was nothing infernal nor celestial about it. Wherever he was, he had had time enough to warm up beneath it; the air outside the blanket was cool. From long practice his hands began to straighten his clothes, starting with his bow tie and moving down over his waistcoat. For a moment he panicked, wondering where his most favorite coat had gone and then he remembered hanging it up in the bookshop.

A moment later, the lamps began to click on, filling the room with a bright golden glow.

“I’m surprised that you look rather shabby in these modern times. Crowley was never one to be fond of shabby things.” A deep rich voice, wry with amusement, and Aziraphale twisted around in the armchair to see the form of a tall man, golden hair cropped into a stylish, rakish cut, dressed in all black.

The black suit looked quite expensive, of some rich fabric beautifully tailored to the man’s body, showing off the narrow waist and the broad shoulders, the slim hips and long limbs. The black shirt was open a button or two beyond decency, and Aziraphale caught an intriguing glimpse of a firm muscled chest beneath the sleek black fabric.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I am not acquainted with you. Have we met before?” Aziraphale asked, getting up onto his feet with practiced politeness, a little confused as to why he was here. He knew this was a demon and a powerful one; he knew he should be afraid and that he was in danger. Perhaps it was the brief period of unconsciousness or the fact that there was no point of reference for this person at all, but he felt strangely calm and at ease.

“How is that possible?” Asmodeus looked genuinely surprised. “You truly don’t remember me?”

“No? Am I supposed to? I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

“And here I thought I would have made a stronger impression. We have met before, more than once.”

“I’m afraid I don’t recall,” Aziraphale said, endeavoring to be civil. Asmodeus looked at him with a skeptical, suspicious curiosity, but then his expression changed.

“Then let me introduce myself and reacquaint you,” Asmodeus smiled, and if Aziraphale didn’t know any better, there was something particularly self-satisfied about that smile. “Asmodeus, a Prince of Hell, Lord of the Serpents, Demon of Lust…”

“Oh dear.” Aziraphale managed a polite, nervous smile. “That’s troubling. I didn’t know you were a Prince of Hell.”

more

[kikyoupdates]

Leave Your Mark ⭑˚🧪⭑ 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑

bnha x f!reader

reverse harem, isekai, my hero academia x fem!reader, slowburn

You didn’t accomplish anything in your previous life. Looking back on it, you feel nothing but regret, and you yearn for the chance to do things differently. As it turns out, your wish is answered, and you are reborn into your favorite fictional world. This time, you resolve to make a change, and you have the means to do it. You won’t be content with just sitting on the sidelines and letting life pass you by. You will live boldly and vibrantly, as if every moment is your last. No matter what it takes, you are going to leave your mark.

previous | story masterlist | next

Perhaps dying was a blessing in disguise, because this new life of yours is infinitely better than the last one.  

Before you got reincarnated, you were never that close with your family. Granted, that was almost entirely your fault, and you’re not afraid to admit it. You lived as a recluse and shut pretty much everyone out, hence why you died with so many lingering regrets. If you could go back in time and apologize to your parents for being unappreciative and not making any effort, you would, but alas, it isn’t an option.  

Since you can’t make amends for a life that is no longer yours, the most you can do is make the most of the second chance that has been granted to you. In this new life, you also have a new family, and you're determined not to let them down.  

“[Name],” Pops says one day, approaching you with his usual gentle smile. “You’re a very clever girl, so how would you like to start having home lessons? I can arrange for a tutor to come by and start teaching you all sorts of things. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”  

Quite frankly, you have no need for a tutor. Everything you should know at this age, you already do know.  

But Pops looks awfully excited for you to start learning, and it’s probably for the best that people think you’re being taught things instead of having an abundance of knowledge at only four years old.  

“Okie-dokie,” you beam. “I’ll be the best student ever!”  

Pops lets out a slow-rolling wave of laughter, starting from deep within his stomach. Then, he takes you in his arms and gives you a firm hug, making sure to pinch your cheeks a few times. Sometimes you completely forget that he’s a yakuza boss, since he’s always doting on you whenever he has the chance. 

“I’m very glad you’re looking forward to it,” he chuckles, rocking you in his arms. “I know other kids go to school to learn things, but our family is a bit special, so you’ll have the lessons from home instead. But I promise I’ll find you the best teacher possible.”  

Pops is a man of his word, and shortly thereafter, you find yourself staring up at a kind-looking tutor who wears thick, rimmed glasses. He has a patient demeanor, and his expression is pleasant, to say the very least. You have no qualms whatsoever about learning from him.  

“Alright,” he hums. “For today, I was thinking it’d be nice if you learned how to write your name. What do you think? Does that sound fun?”  

...okay, scratch that. Perhaps you severely underestimated just how boring this would be.  

Still, you feign a smile nevertheless, then pick up your pencil and pretend to be fully immersed as he starts drawing different letters and vocalizing what each of them sounds like. For a teenager to have to sit through a lesson designed for a four-year-old... it’s admittedly quite rough.  

“You don’t need to bother with all that,” someone suddenly cuts in. The voice comes from the doorway, and you turn your little head to find Chisaki standing there with his arms crossed. He has a mildly exasperated look on his face, as always.  

The tutor adjusts his glasses and frowns. “I beg your pardon?”  

“[Name] already knows all the letters. I’ve seen her read all sorts of complicated books before,” Chisaki says. “She definitely knows how to write her name too.”  

“Well, now,” the tutor laughs. “I was told ahead of time that she was quite smart, but we still need to go over the basics. It’s important to lay down a strong foundation. Kids can make all sorts of mistakes at this age, especially since their attention spans are so short.”  

Chisaki rolls his eyes. “Just watch.”  

He proceeds to grab a book off one of the shelves—one that is most certainly not designed for your supposed reading level—then, he opens it up to a random page and crouches down next to you.  

“Read this, [Name].” He points at the page and gives you a terse, expectant look, as if he’s silently asking you to make him proud or something. Meanwhile, the teacher leans closer to see for himself.   

Suddenly, the pressure is on.  

What should you do? You’ve already slipped up a few times and revealed to Chisaki that you’re way smarter than any other kid your age. Still, you always tried to tone it down a bit, lest the people around you get too suspicious. Plus, Pops was really excited for you to start taking lessons. It feels like he might be a bit disappointed if he finds out that you don’t actually need them.  

Yeah. The smart play is definitely to act dumb, so that you can still maintain the illusion of being a normal little kid.  

Unfortunately, even though you’re a teenager trapped in a kid’s body, you aren’t actually that smart. Or perhaps you’ve just developed a taste for bragging.  

Which is why you recite a full paragraph of some old philosophical text Pops keeps in his study, and just like that, the tutor is left gaping in disbelief.  

Chisaki looks very pleased, though, so you suppose that’s a win. He even playfully ruffles your hair, as if to say attagirl.   

“I-Incredible,” the tutor mumbles, still trying to wrap his head around everything. “I had no idea... that you were this advanced. I daresay you’re a true prodigy. Never before have I had the chance to encounter such a gifted child...”  

It goes without saying, but having all this extra lived experience on your side makes all the difference. The funny part is that you always used to be a very average student grade-wise, but now people are convinced that you’re the next coming of Einstein.  

Oh, how the tables have turned.  

Chisaki crosses his arms. “Told you. She might look like an idiot, but she’s actually not. So, I really don’t think these lessons are necessary. She clearly learns a lot faster than other kids her age.”  

You aren't too thrilled that he claims you look like an idiot, but arguing with Chisaki is almost always a fruitless endeavor, so you just keep your mouth shut and let him do his thing.  

“Well, if that’s really the case, then I can tackle more advanced material with her instead,” the tutor insists. “I’d still like to assess just how gifted she is, but once I have a better idea of what grade level she should be at, I can come up with some questions for her to—”  

“I don’t think you understand,” Chisaki mutters, and for some reason, his expression has visibly soured. Which is saying something, since he doesn’t have particularly friendly features to begin with. “[Name] will be just fine without you. Anything she needs to learn, I can just teach her instead. I know her better than you do, and she’ll be more comfortable around me anyways.”  

The tutor looks rather troubled. “But... I was hired to give her private lessons. I’m sorry, young boy, but I don’t think this is your decision to make. Your father is my employer, so he’s the one I answer to.”  

“Yes. I know. I’m just trying to save Pops some money, since it’s clear that you’re not going to be of any use.” 

Holy crap. You hope the tutor packed some aloe vera, because even you can feel how much he just got burned.  

After casually dropping such a heavy-handed insult, Chisaki turns towards you, pats your head twice, then leans close enough to whisper in your ear—although he doesn’t actually whisper, so that the tutor hears him loud and clear.  

“I’d wish you a good lesson, but I think we both know that isn’t going to happen with this guy,” he says, barely able to keep the smirk out of his voice. 

Yeah. No doubt about it. Chisaki Kai is absolutely shameless .  

He walks out of the room moments later, and the poor tutor has clearly been stunned to silence. Even though you didn’t play any part in this, you can’t help but shrink in on yourself out of sheer secondhand embarrassment.  

The tutor takes a while to process what just happened, and eventually manages to clear the lump in his throat.  

“A-Alright,” he says weakly. “Let’s try this again, shall we?”  

The rest of the lesson is about as awkward as you’d expected.

As it turns out, that was the first and last lesson you ever had with that tutor. He doesn’t return to the Shie Hassaikai residence, and no—it isn’t because Chisaki scared him off. Well, not in the literal sense, at least.  

“I didn’t realize you were such a fast learner,” Pops marvels. “The tutor I hired was telling me all about how you can read and write far beyond your grade level. That’s incredible, [Name]. You’re even smarter than I thought.”  

You feel a bit bashful, but as always, a proud smile rises to your lips. Quite frankly, you doubt you’ll ever get tired of being showered with compliments. It’s certainly something you never used to hear in your previous life.  

“It's just fun learning new stuff,” you brush off, trying to play it cool. Your body is tiny, but your ego is starting to get dangerously big. Perhaps you could even give Katsuki a run for his money.  

Pops chuckles. “Well, I’m glad you do. I can already tell you’re going to accomplish great things in the future.”  

I really hope so.  

You don’t say that part out loud. Instead, you make yet another silent promise to yourself—a promise to cherish every waking moment and devote this new life of yours towards something meaningful.  

“So, when am I seeing the tutor again?” you ask. It’s true that you don’t need the help, especially since nobody really knows just how advanced you are. They think you’re only a couple years ahead, when in fact, you’re about as smart as a senior high school student.  

Still, it’s important to play along. You’re okay with being seen as gifted, or perhaps even somewhat of a prodigy, but you know it’s best not to stand out too much. Having a tutor will help you maintain some semblance of normalcy.  

You figured that Pops would feel the same way, but his response catches you off-guard.  

“Oh, I’ll have to find someone else,” he sighs. “Chisaki was telling me that he didn’t seem awfully prepared for the lesson. It’ll take a bit of trial and error until we find someone who can do a good job of teaching you.”  

“Kai said that?”  

Your brows pull into a frown. Granted, he was talking a lot of shit, but you didn’t expect him to go complaining to Pops about it. Was the tutor really that bad? He seemed a bit flustered after Chisaki’s rude remarks, but he did his best to teach you. Of course, you didn’t actually learn anything new, but that’s beside the point. The poor guy thought he was dealing with a four-year-old, not a sixteen-year-old trapped inside a four-year-old's body.  

“I thought he was okay,” you reply with a shrug. “He was nice. And it seemed like he was trying his best.”  

Pops smiles, and you can tell that he’s more amused than anything else. He adores you, no question about it, but he can hardly trust a four-year-old's testimony when it comes to picking suitable teaching candidates.  

“I’m proud of you for making an effort during the lesson, but I promise we’ll find someone better. Alright?”  

Well, whatever. It’s not like you had a particularly strong attachment to the tutor you only just met, so you don’t think much of it at first.  

However, you soon begin to notice a trend.  

Chisaki doesn’t approve of any of the tutors Pops hires for you. He turns up his nose at just about every single one of them, and it’s either that he convinces Pops they aren’t doing a good job of teaching you, or he snubs them outright and pressures them into wanting to leave. 

He isn’t even twelve years old yet, but he’s somehow managed to deter every single grown-ass tutor that steps inside the building.  

One day, you decide to confront him about it.  

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you,” you say, crossing your arms in an attempt to look intimidating. Naturally, it doesn’t work. Your features are far too cherubic to come across that way, and at the risk of sounding vain, you’re a pretty adorable-looking kid.  

Chisaki focuses on his calligraphy, not bothering to even glance back over his shoulder. “Yeah? And what’s that?”  

“My tutors,” you huff exasperatedly. “You keep scaring all of them away!”  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  

“Oh, you know exactly what I’m talking about!”  

He finishes with the last brush stroke, then sets the paper aside to dry, mindful of not spilling any ink on the floor. Finally, he turns towards you with a piercing golden gaze.  

“None of them are good enough for you,” he says matter-of-factly. “You’re smart. You don’t always act like it, but it’s the truth. I think Pops realizes it too. He must have realized that you’re better off just having your lessons with me. I’ve always taught myself everything I need to know, so I don’t see why this would be any different. I stopped having tutors a long time ago when Pops saw that I was doing a lot better on my own.” 

Why is he so hellbent on teaching you himself? He’s older than you, sure, but he’s still just a kid. And even though he’s remarkably intelligent—between the two of you, he’s the real prodigy—all of those tutors are hired professionals, and full-fledged adults. They’ve surely got a better handle for this sort of thing.  

Honestly, having a tutor doesn’t really matter that much, in the grand scheme of things, but unless you’re mistaken, it almost feels like... he’s hogging you? Or something along those lines?  

Perhaps you’re reading into it too much.  

“I wouldn’t mind having my lessons with you, if you really think Pops would be okay with it,” you admit. “But I just thought that it was better to have real teachers deal with this kind of stuff. Plus, I don’t want to bother you while you’re trying to learn.”  

Chisaki perks up at your words. “You wouldn’t be bothering me. I’m the one offering. Besides, this way, we don’t have to keep bringing strangers into our home, we save money, and I can make sure that you learn in a way that you’re comfortable with. Everybody wins.”  

Hm. Well, alright. Truthfully, it doesn’t sound like a bad deal at all. Having joint lessons with your older brother. It could actually turn out to be quite fun. He’ll probably end up being a lot stricter than any of the tutors you’ve had thus far, even though he’s just a kid, but hey, as long as he’s happy.  

“Okay,” you nod. “Convince Pops to let us learn together instead of bringing in any new tutors. But you’ll be nice, right? You won’t yell at me or anything like that?”  

“If you want me to be nice, then all you have to do is not make any mistakes,” he muses, cracking a grin. 

“Hey!”  

“I’m just kidding. Well, not really.”  

Dammit. You’re already starting to regret this.  

You make a big show of blowing raspberries at him, then slide the door shut in an overly dramatic fashion as you exit the room.  

All the while, you remain blissfully ignorant when it comes to Chisaki’s true thoughts.

You are five years old now.  

To be more precise, you have literally just turned five years old. It’s the day of your fifth birthday, and you’re in the middle of a party. As the adopted child of a yakuza boss, it’s safe to say that no expense has been spared, so you’re pretty much having the time of your life.  

There’s high-end sushi as far as the eye can see, the building has been completely decorated to accommodate your outlandish requests, and there’s a huge pile of unopened presents that you can’t wait to get to after the party.  

Yeah. Life is definitely good.  

The only part that’s missing is having friends here to celebrate with you. Even though it’s been quite a while since you first met, you can’t help but wish that Izuku could be here, or even Katsuki. You’re determined to reunite with them at some point in the future, but U.A is still a long way off, and it’s impossible not to feel a bit impatient.  

But for what you lack in friends your age, you have family.  

With Pops and Chisaki around, you never have to worry about getting lonely. There are plenty of other people from the Shie Hassaikai that you’ve also grown quite close to, having seen them around so often. For yakuza, members of an organized crime group, you almost can’t believe how pleasant a lot of these guys are. In fact, some of them are more than happy to dance along to the music with you, although they look a bit goofy while doing it.  

“Kai, your turn!” you cry out, twirling in the party dress Pops had specially made for the occasion. “Come dance with me!”  

“Go on,” one of the members manages to mutter in between labored breaths. “Please, Chisaki... we can’t do it anymore. She’s got way too much energy...”  

“I don’t dance,” Chisaki refuses. 

Wow, we’re all shocked.   

“Pretty please?” you ask again, batting your lashes for effect.  

Chisaki leans back in his chair and scowls. “I don’t dance.”  

“Ugh. Talk about a party pooper,” you mutter disappointedly. “I bet you’re just embarrassed that everyone will make fun of you because I’m a way better dancer than you are.”  

He’s smart enough to know when you’re provoking him, and he probably realizes you’re just trying to goad him into doing what you want. So, maybe it’s because it’s your birthday, or maybe he just doesn’t have the energy to bother putting up a fight.  

Whatever the case, he stands up and sighs dramatically, then makes his way towards you.  

“Fine. But you only get one dance, then I’m sitting back down.”  

That’s already more than enough, and you giggle before grabbing his hands and pulling him along to the beat of the music. He’s about as unenthusiastic as you expected, but just the fact that he even agreed to do it in the first place speaks volumes. He uses a hand to twirl you around every so often, and you throw your head back and laugh, the skirt of your dress fluttering behind you.  

In this moment, you are so, so happy.  

You don’t realize it because you’re too caught up in all the fun you’re having, but the whole time you dance, Chisaki can hardly seem to suppress his smile. Not that he’d ever admit to it, though.  

Eventually, you have your fill of dancing, so you plop down at the table and watch as Pops cuts you a generously sized piece of cake.  

“The two of you looked so nice, dancing together like that,” Pops smiles. “I made sure to take lots of pictures.”  

Chisaki’s cheeks darken several shades. “Come on, Pops. That’s so embarrassing.”  

“What’s embarrassing about family getting along? I’m starting to become an old man, you know. Moments like these are what I live for.” 

Pops grins, and Chisaki shrinks back into his seat, feeling slightly flustered for a change. You’re already going to town on your cake, and you should probably be pacing yourself a bit more, but it’s way too damn good to stop. 

“Dish cake ish wha I lif for,” you say, mouth stuffed like a chipmunk.  

“[Name], don’t talk with your mouth full,” Chisaki scolds.  

“Shorry. Ish jush sho goob.”  

“I see you’re not listening.”  

Pops and some of the Shie Hassaikai members start laughing, and you forcefully swallow the big lump of cake that was stuck in your throat. You can sort of feel that there’s bits of frosting smeared across your face, but you know you’ll just get dirty again in a few moments, so you decide to clean it all off later. 

“Ugh,” Chisaki suddenly grimaces. “You’ve already made such a mess.”  

Never mind, then. It looks like Chisaki’s already cleaning it off for you.  

He wipes a napkin across your sticky cheeks, and you get the sudden urge to grab a piece of cake with your bare hands and smush it into his face. You don’t exactly have a death wish though, so ultimately, you decide against it. Instead, you just stare at him, noting the way his brows are furrowed as he focuses on cleaning you up.  

Chisaki Kai. He used to be nothing more than a fictional character to you. Admittedly, a character you were quite fond of, in all his complexity, but he was still just that—a character.  

Now, he is your older brother. Your family. Someone precious and irreplaceable.  

Before you even realize what’s happening, the words have already left your lips.  

“Kai, I love you.”  

Chisaki freezes right on the spot. He’s no longer blotting your face with the napkin. All he can do is blink repeatedly, and you swear you hear a quiet gasp catching in his throat.  

“W-Why are you being so weird?” he eventually snaps. He’s stuttering, visibly caught off-guard. His face is getting redder by the second, and as much as he’d like to try hiding his embarrassment, he’s still just a kid.  

You smile gently. It isn’t the smile of a child, but rather, that of someone whose lived experience outweighs his own. There are moments where he must get the sense that you are mature beyond your years, and this is probably one of them.  

“I love you,” you say again. “Pops too. I love both of you so much. I’m really grateful to have such an awesome family. I guess I just felt like saying that out loud.” 

He’s too dumbstruck to string together another response, and from across the table, you catch Pops looking awfully teary-eyed. It wasn’t your intention to get all emotional like this, but you can’t help what you’re feeling. After living with them for several years, it seems right for them to know just how much you appreciate everything they’ve done for you.  

“And we love you too,” Pops says, reaching a hand across the table to squeeze yours. He glances towards Chisaki. “Right, Chisaki? Don’t you love your little sister?”  

The boy in question grits his teeth from mortification, and it’s actually quite funny, because he’s close to being as red as a tomato right now.  

You giggle and dig into another piece of cake. It’s fine if he doesn’t say it back. You know that he cares in his own way. He always looks after you and makes sure to keep you safe. He’s the best big brother you could possibly ask for, and at the rate things are going, you feel confident about keeping him from becoming a villain.  

Chisaki doesn’t say anything else. He sits at the table and watches you repeatedly shovel forkfuls of cake into your mouth. He secretly wonders if your stomach is a bottomless pit, since there’s no way a little kid has enough room for all the food you’ve been eating. He hopes he won’t have to watch you barf all over the place like you used to do at the orphanage.  

But as much as Chisaki likes to poke fun at you and point out all of your mistakes, he does love you. The words are difficult for him to put together. He can’t vocalize them as easily as you do. Perhaps one day he’ll be able to, but not right now.  

Still. He knows that he loves you, and that’s already good enough. Like Pops said, you are his little sister. Even if you aren’t in fact related, some bonds are thicker than blood. After all, his biological family abandoned him and left him to rot, and the same can be said for your own. It doesn’t matter if the same blood doesn’t course through your veins. The three of you are a real family, and nothing will ever change that. 

It’s precisely because he loves you so much that he wants what’s best for you. He can teach you everything you need to know. There’s no point in relying on a stranger. An outsider . That’s why he had to get rid of all the tutors. He knows you better than any of them ever will. They simply weren’t needed. 

The only people you’ll ever need are him and Pops.  

Chisaki doesn’t realize it, but the longer he stares at you, the harder it is not to smile. You can certainly act a bit ridiculous at times, but it somehow makes you all the more endearing. He never could have imagined that the annoying toddler he met at a dirty orphanage would take up so much space in his heart.  

His beloved little sister. His family .  

You, him, and Pops. So long as the three of you are always together, each day will be brighter than the last. 

More chapters are available on Quotev, Ao3 and Wattpad!

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🧪 main masterlist ♡ oneshot masterlist

[beestriker015]

Elesa x male s/o headcanons

Being a famous model as well as a gym leader, Elesa is no stranger to people vying for her affections.

Unfortunately for them, she is already in a relationship with someone whom she loves dearly, that being a handsome young man named s/o.

Elesa met s/o on a sunny afternoon in Nimbasa City when she had time off from the gym and her modeling career.

While wearing a disguise to avoid being bothered by her fans and the paparazzi, Elesa accidentally ran into s/o as he was leaving the Pokémon Center.

“Oh my gosh! I am so sorry! Are you alright?!”

She asks the young man while offering him a hand after knocking him over.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just try being a bit more careful ok?”

He says with a small smile while accepting her hand to pull himself up.

“Thank you. My name’s s/o by the way.”

“Nice to meet you s/o, I’m….Elise.”

She greets him after quickly thinking up a fake name to use.

“Tell me, why were you in such a hurry Elise?”

Looking at the ground feeling slightly embarrassed, “Elise” chuckles awkwardly before answering.

“T-to be honest with you s/o, I was just really excited to ride on the Ferris Wheel. I haven’t done so in a long time because of how busy I’ve been lately.”

“You don’t say? Funnily enough, I was on my way there to ride it too! Now this may sound like a strange question, but would you perhaps like to ride it with me?”

Thinking for a moment, the incognito gym leader/model smiles and nods.

“Sure! After all I do owe you for running into you a minute ago s/o.”

“What are we waiting for then, let’s go!”

Gently taking her hand, s/o leads “Elise” to the Ferris Wheel before they get on it together.

Needless to say, the two had a really fun time and enjoyed each other’s company a lot as they talked about various things including their wins on the Battle Subway, favorite pokémon, and fashion tastes.

Once the ride was over, s/o gave “Elise” his number in case she ever wanted to hang out again, causing her to blush a little as they parted ways. “H-he gave me his number! W-why is my face heating up so much?!”

She asks herself before looking at the piece of paper with s/o’s number on it, a smile unknowingly making its way onto her face as she inputting the digits into her Xtransciever before heading back to her place.

Unsurprisingly, Elesa kept in contact with s/o and continued to spend time with him since then whenever they both had the time, leading to the two slowly catching feelings for one another.

Elesa was the first to realize her feelings, which presented a problem.

“How can I think of s/o that way! He’d never return my feelings because he thinks I’m someone else. We’ve grown pretty close over these couple months, so maybe it’s time I tell him the truth. I just hope he understands and somehow accepts my feelings.”

Sending s/o a message via her Xtransciever to meet up somewhere in private, s/o eventually arrives with a questioning look on his face.

“Why’d you want to meet me here Elise, is something going on?”

“I’m sorry s/o, but my name’s not Elise.”

Taking off her disguise (which consists of a hat, sunglasses, and designer scarf in case you were wondering), s/o is shocked to see the beautiful model/electric gym leader in front of him.

“Y-you’re Elesa! I don’t understand, why would you lie to me about who you were all this time?”

“S/o, a lot of people only like me for my looks or my careers rather than for who I am as a person, so I put on a disguise and used a different name to avoid being recognized. When I met you, I was scared that you would be like everyone else if you found out who I really was, but I know you well enough now to see that you aren’t like that. I was always planning on telling you, I just didn’t know how until now. Believe me s/o when I say that I truly enjoyed all the time we’ve spent together, so please….don’t hate me for lying to you.”

Getting over his initial shock, s/o wraps Elesa in a comforting hug, making her blush from the contact.

“I don’t hate you at all Elesa. I understand why you did what you did. Besides, I couldn’t possibly hate the woman I’ve….fallen in love with.”

Hearing those words causes Elesa to tear up as she breaks from the hug and looks at s/o with a smile.

“I love you too s/o!”

He returns her smile as both of them share a passionate kiss, thus beginning their relationship. As a couple, Elesa and s/o are very openly affectionate, neither of them shying away from kissing and cuddling in public. Dates consist of either spending time alone together while watching movies, or partaking in double battles as a couple on the Battle Subway.

Early on in their relationship, Elesa introduces her boyfriend to her closest friends, those being Emmet, Ingo, and Skyla, who thankfully get along with s/o quite well.

(S/o does his best to comfort his girlfriend when Ingo suddenly disappears one day without a trace, but she and his brother Emmet never stop mourning the missing Subway Boss.)

Despite not being a trainer himself, all of Elesa’s pokémon love s/o, especially her two Emolga who enjoy perching on his shoulders, which their trainer gushes over every time they do so.

“That’s so cute! I need to take a picture of this s/o! Don’t move!”

S/o is always extremely supportive of his girlfriend, whether she’s doing a gym battle or a photo shoot, which Elesa is very much grateful for.

“Thank you for being there for me today s/o, I appreciate it greatly.”

He smiles and gives her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“No thanks necessary babe! I’ll support you in whatever you’re doing no matter what! What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?”

She smiles and kisses him back, happy to have such an amazing partner.

Jealousy in their relationship is uncommon, but definitely exists.

Elesa gets jealous whenever one of her gym trainers (or sometimes the occasional challenger) flirts with s/o or make comments about him, which he wastes no time reassuring her about.

“One of the girls was talking you up today s/o, I would’ve lost my cool if it weren’t for the gym battle I was having being so intense.”

She huffs in annoyance as s/o hugs her affectionately.

“Pay them no mind babe. You’re the only woman who has my heart Elesa, I love you and you alone.”

S/o gets jealous from all his girlfriend’s fans, which Elesa admittedly finds kinda cute.

“Must your male fans act like shameless simps! Some of the things they say just makes my blood boil Don’t they understand that you’re in a relationship?!”

Elesa giggles while calming down her angry boyfriend with a shoulder rub.

“Aww, no need to get upset dear. My love shines only for you. You’re the light of my life, and nothing or no one will change that.”

Speaking of her fans, Elesa will not tolerate anyone speaking ill of her boyfriend.

“I don’t appreciate what you just said about my s/o. Who I date is my choice, not yours! Now either apologize to my boyfriend and keep your opinion to yourself or leave!”

It always makes s/o’s heart flutter when Elesa gets protective of him, and he’ll do the same if any of her fans get out of line.

“Hey! I saw where your hand was going pal! Try touching her like that again and I’ll break every bone in your body!”

Only on special occasions such as birthdays and anniversaries will s/o and Elesa ride the Ferries Wheel, as it holds special meaning to them both because it’s where they first met.

For their second anniversary, s/o proposes to Elesa while they ride the Ferris Wheel, earning a very emotional response from her.

“This is the most romantic thing ever! Yes! Of course I’ll marry you s/o!

She exclaims gleefully with happy tears in her eyes before pulling her boyfriend turned fiancé into a warm embrace and kissing him repeatedly.

When it comes time for them to get off, the engagement ring on Elesa’s finger shimmers in the moonlight as she walks home with her beloved s/o, the love she has for him shining brighter than a thousand suns.

[floof-wulf030]

GIVE ME UR DON PAOLO THOUGHTS HES AN INTERESTING CHARACTER IVE HARDLY SEEN TALED ABT

Ummm…. Where do I start?

Yeah he doesn’t really get talked about a lot… though I’m not really surprised because you know…

I feel like many don’t really care much about or always forget about him.. like yeah there are some people who like him but??? It seems like people focus more on villains that are more complex and sympathetic. (Which… DON’T GET ME WRONG! I totally understand that and I love those too, and I’m also a huge fan of Clive and Descole too but this ain’t about them..)

I know Paul doesn’t really have this tragic backstory like the rest of them but hey not all villains need a tragic backstory right?? Sure the reason of him being evil is ridiculous and stupid but I personally think it fits his character more. I personally find it funny and a little entertaining. Tbh I never really did expect him to be very complex even before playing Lost Future a year ago. However yes, parts of me wished Level-5 gave Don Paolo more time to marinate as a character. One thing that bothered me though was the whole thing about him being exiled from the society of scholars. Like it was only mentioned in Curious Village then it was never talked about ever again?? Like whatever happened to that???

In general though, I really like Don Paolo aesthetically. I established this many times already but I just love wacky and goofy looking villains, probably even more than the whole “Tall dark and Handsome” ones. Again, don’t get me wrong I love those too! There are many handsome villain designs that I love. I just find myself fawn more towards the weirdos lol, LET THEM BE WHIMSICAL CREATURES. (Kinda wished we had more of those in the PL series if I have to be honest here..) His design definitely reminds me of Dick Dastardly or Robbie Rotten, which both were some of my favorite villain characters from my childhood lol. Maybe because of the whole color scheme. I feel like SOME also don’t really pay an attention to him either was because he’s not one of the attractive ones, idk??? Honestly that’s what I really like about him though! Also the whole disguising thing with the latex masks?? Like how the hell did he PULL that off? (No pun intended) How was he able to change his size? This man is like spineless or perhaps just liquid!

My favorite tiny little fact about him is that he plays music. I know this could refer to listening to music, but him being some sort of musician is so fun and interesting to think about. Like what instrument would he play? I’ve seen some people hc him being a guitarist which I’m totally on board for. The fact that he likes playing music and that he’s also Tomohito Nishiura’s (The composer for the PL games) favorite character is really cool :3

Anyways yeah! I personally think Don Paolo deserves more love and appreciation than what he was given. I noticed he’s been lacking some fanart (oh and fanfics too), which is why I’ve been wanting to draw him a lot more often. Just to fill up the tag (and that empty void in my heart) Ngl at first impression I thought he was going to be hard to draw but it turns out that he is really fun to doodle

I would love to talk more about him but for now I’ll leave it here, because I’ve been typing for so long lmaooo.

Thanks for coming to my Tedtalk

(Also feel free to leave any thoughts if you have any)

[inkpot909]

Caesar Zeppeli x Shy!Reader Headcanons

Reader is written as gender neutral with they/them pronouns. Biblically accurate bisexual Caesar Zeppeli.

A/n: The more I’ve rewatched Battle Tendency, the more I wish Caesar had more screen time. Not that I ever disliked him, but at this point of JoJo’s brainrot, I can’t help but demand wish he’d gotten more time than he did. That’s why I’m happy to be writing him; I hope y’all enjoy!

Warning(s): None

First of all, let it be known that Caesar is not a picky man when it comes to his taste in men and women.

He doesn’t subscribe to the idea of having a certain ‘type.’ And frankly, to even slightly suggest he would is insulting.

Such a blasphemous statement would be met with a scoff and eye roll, his arms crossed in order to ensure the message is drilled through others’ minds. To him, it’s frankly preposterous.

A true romantic, he’s rather open-minded.

In fact, he likely takes pride in his past relationships and flings all being unique in their own right. Each and everyone of them, there’s a story to tell.

In part, he just appreciates meeting and interacting with people in general. And growing a mutual attraction from there, even if it’s short-lived, is even better in his opinion.

Because family is extremely important to him, he considers it in every individual he meets.

Where they come from, and the people in their lives that shaped them to be who they are today. It’s the more imperative thing in his life… so he naturally considers it for the every day people he comes across. Everyone has others in their lives- family and friends alike -and he always takes that into consideration.

Caesar himself would say, “Beauties come in all varieties.”

That’s all well and good, but his proclaimed lack of having a type is simply not true.

Unconsciously or not, he does have a specific preference. Though… sure as hell he would never admit that to himself or anyone else, for that matter.

Regardless of what he claims, Caesar does have a tendency to approach those who are more on the shy side.

It’s got something to do with the fluster he can pull from his naturally charming demeanor. He puts on a bit of a show, no doubt, but it’s one designed to get more bashful individuals all flustered. If he manages it, it’s such a boost to his ego that he cannot help but press further.

After all, someone lonesome or reserved deserves affection as much as anyone else. And he loves to dish out attention, if only to direct eyes towards him.

Case in point- you.

The textbook definition of bashful… you’re quite reserved, to say the least. And unlocking true personalities beneath a shy front is one of his favorite pastimes.

As expected, he makes his attraction to you apparent almost immediately.

Even the most oblivious individuals in the general vicinity can tell he’s flirting. His smile his easy, and his eyes hold a confidence you can’t say you’ve seen in many before him…

“My goodness… you’re all alone?”

Lost in your own thoughts, you hardly pick up on the voice speaking a pace or two away from you. Regardless… perhaps it’s fate or misfortune that you do. Your gaze pulled from both your thoughts, and the large café window to your right.

Only for your eyes to land on a tall and muscular man, near to you in age.

The blonde man chuckles, pointing to the empty space across from you. A tiny table, it’s one of two spots available. Even still… it’s not too busy inside the cozy space. There’s a gentle buzz of coffee shop patrons around you, but it’s no where near reaching full capacity.

Regardless, that’s not what soaks up your attention at the moment.

With widened eyes and lips that only dare to hang open, you can only watch as his gaze darts between you and the open space at the little table you’ve claimed for yourself. What the hell…? you think to yourself. When was the last time you were approached so blatantly? Your mind blanks trying to recall.

“That’s a shame…” he continues on, seemingly not minding that you didn’t immediately respond. “Do you mind if I join you? A morning only grows more pleasant with an occasional interaction here and there with an interesting stranger, no?”

The blonde lightly chuckles, seating himself across from you before you can even slowly nod or shake your head ‘no’. This young man… he’s so forward. How can you hope to keep up with that?

“In..” you start, forcing yourself into making small talk. “In a cheery mood morning, then… erm…?”

“Caesar Zeppeli,” he finishes for you, offering his name casually.

He pauses, taking a sip of his own drink. He sets it down on the table, the cup clinking softly against a harsh tabletop. “And why not? The weather is lovely… the day is still young… and I’ve gotten the opportunity to speak with a beautiful stranger.”

Ah… a flirt, you think. And a weirdly positive one at that.

Regardless, you push those thoughts aside, for now. His smile is friendly enough, and you’re not receiving any ‘creep’ signals from the man.

“Y/n…” you respond quietly, not yet giving him your last name. Luckily, he doesn’t push you into giving it. You consider asking him if he makes a habit of approaching strangers, but you neglect to, if only to mirror his lack of pressing.

“Pretty name,” he hums, as if on instinct.

At first, you figured he’s approached people enough times to the point where the memory of you would soon slip from his mind.

He waved to at least three passerby’s that first conversation you had, clearly the type to recognize and be recognized. Familiar with the city… a local to the Italian city, born and raised, most likely.

You were only half right on your assumption, however.

Because Caesar never forgets a lovely face. So of course, he made sure not to let yours slip from his brain.

It surprised you the second time you saw him, that he even bothered to remember you.

And like the first interaction, he did most of the talking. Not that either of you really minded.

Once small talk is over and done, he can go off on whatever tangent he’s in the mood for. In your perspective… at least he picks topics that hold substance. At least, they do in the manner and passion he discusses them.

To Caesar, it’s easy for him to talk to you. That’s one of the first thing he concludes, in direct relation to your shyness.

You’re a good listener… and he could help but stow it away in his long-term memory.

He doesn’t mind carrying conversations, really. Caesar follows along with whatever he can pick up with someone being comfortable with, and that’s something to take note of right off the bat.

He’s the first to start on a topic… to make advances… and to eventually asking you outright if he may keep in contact.

And the next thing he notices, is how much he stresses over not always being able to be there.

His hamon training is quite demanding. Something that was never a problem before, despite the long list of people he has tucked away in his memory.

But you… the desire to get you to fully open up… it’s an itch he just has to scratch.

And luckily for you, he’s patient. An attitude of, ‘if it’s meant to happen then it will’.

Not exactly pushy, but there’s a glee present in his green eyes when you care to share anything with him. A not-so-subtle implication that he wants you to keep going on.

And hey, maybe you stopped yourself a bit too early for his liking this time around… he tells himself that he’ll pull more out of you another time.

But to Caesar’s own surprise… the more he gets to know you, the more he wants to stick around.

While he would consider his heart open to many… well, hell… he’s never been so focused on one specific individual before.

It’ll take some time for him to digest the feeling… but luckily for him, you’re as patient as he is. He thinks. Seemingly. Definitely?

Your shyness makes you hard to read at times, but he honestly likes that. Maybe it’s what further draws him to you in times of casual conversation. With every small detail revealed, he finds himself even more interested.

Once Caesar grows a pair and finally explicitly commits to you, he’s the one who takes the reins.

Neither of you mind, to be fair.

He’s attentive enough to take care in learning what you prefer. Especially considering… you genuinely prefer him speaking up for the both of you.

That being said, he adores it whenever you do decide to speak up.

It’s rare, sure, but he showers you in more praise than normal when that side of you happens to show.

He knows better than anyone that it’s uncommon… so when he does see it, he knows just how truly special it is.

Not one to back down from anything himself, he’s the best hype-man you could ever ask for. A special gleam in his eyes… a smile he couldn’t hope to hide… he’s so proud of you for standing up for yourself.

Yes… he’s more than happy to do so in your honor.

But seeing you take control like that… well, it strikes a chord he didn’t even know existed. It shows progress… it shows that there are times that even you cannot hold your tongue… and it adds to the full picture of the person you are deep down.

And that person is someone he grows to love. Without question.

And when you’re fired up… he cannot help but become fired up as well.

In all, Caesar is very receptive. By the time a concrete relationship inevitably forms, he’s so in-tuned to reading you it becomes a no-brainer to him. As natural as breathing.

And, if he’s being honest, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[snailmail444]

Boo! I'm being nosy!!

2, 6, 15, 32, 38, 42, aaaaaand 50 (is there something you wish your mutuals knew about you?)!

2 Well if we’re talking food wise I would pick Pepsi over Cheetos. HOWEVER in terms of color it is Cheetos bag orange ALL the way I am having an orange love era rn. I think it’s a really fine nice color to play with :3

6 oooh well in terms of SDV I stay on discord with @maylilithreign @birdielouwho and @beegyoshiwitdaheat and I love you of course moot @hopefuloverfury there are more beloved blogs and mutuals but I don’t wanna notify a billion people so we’ll keep that list short LOL

In terms of NOT SDV we’ve got my beloved. My favorite. Bee @pbflutist love you hiiiiiii

15 Weirdest would probably be appendicitis. I had it for uhh. Too long. Perhaps. And when I say too long I mean like a month. It was chronic appendicitis and I was really sick for a decent chunk of time with that one lol. My favorite two truths and a lie factoid

32 I’m a pencil person I need to be able to ERASE!! Chronically misspelling shit lol

38 THIS ONE is a joke with bee that was basically that I would send her smut via snail mail (printed out and sent through the US postal system). And then the 444 is simply. A vibe.

42 Earphones for life. Same me earphones. Earphones save me. I work in a cubical with other people around so I gotta be able to listen to my nonsense in peace lol.

50 What I want moots to know. The biggest thing that I don’t always say but isn’t necessarily a secret is that in my day life I’m actually a graphic designer/illustrator. I don’t draw a whole ton in my free time but it’s the other half of my creative passion. It’s a little funny because most of the people in my writing sphere don’t know that I make art, and most people in my day to day life don’t know that I write. Sort of creative double life I guess. I’m super passionate about it though! I especially love graphic design and then illustration when I have time is wonderful. If I can ever get my shit together I really want to make a comic so that I can bash my passions into one big creation. Just gotta actually. You know. Do it. lol

I should draw more. I always say that but it’s true. If anybody ever missed it this is my favorite piece of art I’ve made for the fandom.

LOVE YOU MOOT SO HAPPY TO SER YOU MOOT 💞💞💞💞💞

[cozza-frenzy]

Fanfic: Anything Not Saved

This job will chew you up and spit you out, if you’re not careful. OKAY, HERE GOES NOTHING. Hello Stanley Parable fandom! You might have seen me before, as I’ve been lurking around as The Phantom Pen (and one shy Anon) for the best part of a week now! Soooo I wasn’t planning on ‘taking off the mask’ so soon - I have absolutely terrible social anxiety, but what can I say? Y’all are a bunch of amazing, talented folks, and @chronicsheepdrawing‘s style - incorporating one of my all-time favorite aesthetics - has well and truly had my heart ever since I first laid eyes on it. As has their Drinky Bird Narrator - which brings us to this. I wrote a sort of horror-comedy thing, based on their Narrator, so I would recommend checking out their art so the whole story makes more sense. Things get existential, angsty, and more than a little bit weird when it comes to the format, but there’s a cute fluffy Stanley/Narrator ending if you’re willing to stick it out, which could be read as romantic or queerplatonic. I find this take on the Narrator all too relatable, as you’ll probably see. Poor guy. So here’s a list of everything I could think of making a content warning for. I might post this on AO3 later, but you guys get first dibs. I just hope tumblr doesn’t break my formatting somehow. CONTENT WARNINGS: Self-Hatred, Body Dysphoria (Not Gender Related), Body Horror, Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, Existential Dread, Emotional Breakdown, Memory Loss, Panic Attack, Autistic Sensory Overload/Over-stimulation, Repeating Words Enjoy??

And, and then he said, hehe… and THEN he said - this job will chew you up and spit you out, if you’re not careful! You know, like a piece of chewing gum! I couldn’t believe it, I really couldn’t! Oh, we laughed so heartily! It really was the most wonderful sound, bouncing off the walls of the bathroom again and again like we were standing in, oh I don’t know, some kind of echo chamber? But the point is, you see - the point is, he finished cleaning his shoes in the sink, and he held open the door for me, and then we stepped through the door to go back to- Wait, where are you going? I didn’t get to finish my-oh! Oh of course, I… I am sorry, I just got… oh, well, back to the daily grind, am I right? You know, haha, grind! Like the coffee you’re holding! I mean of course the stuff here is just that instant stuff, it always is, but it’s hard to complain when- And you’re already walking away… oh well… Some other time, perhaps… —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This is the story, of a man named ▇▇▇▇▇▇. ▇▇▇▇▇▇ worked in a big building, where he was employee number 436. Employee 436’s job was simple. He sat at a desk, designated number 436, and confirmed that the other employees were pushing the right buttons, for the right amount of time, in the right order. This is what Employee Number 436 did every day, of every month, of every year. And although others may have considered it soul-rending, he relished the brief moments of awkward small-talk he shared with his co-workers. Such as [ERROR: DATABASE ENTRY INVALID], who always [DATA CORRUPTED] whenever they [FILE NOT FOUND]. And Employee #427, who worked in a small office close to his. Who never said very much, but always seemed to want to listen to whatever he had to say. And ▇▇▇▇▇▇ was happy. And then one day, something very peculiar happened. And then one day, something very peculiar happened.      something very peculiar happened. very peculiar happened.     s̸o̴m̴e̸t̷h̸i̶n̶g̷ v̶̯̽e̷̲͈̺̰̒̽̎̃ŗ̴͓̩̩͜͠y̷̝̥̱̿̀         p̵̙͚̠̟̠̲̳͖̦͆̑̂̈̆̑ͅe̴̡̥͖̝͚͔̙̣͔͚͋͗̀̅̎͒͝c̸̨̛̻̬̪̯̺̺̈́̏̅͋̈́͛̌͜u̶̟͙̯̫̱͙͎̜͑̾̔͆̄͋͋͘͠͝l̵͉̫̮͖͖̰͖̦̮͍̎̃͑̀̽̅͛̚͠ì̸͙̦̯̜̱̳̪̟̈̂̔́̎̄̔͗̋á̵͎͉̖̘͔̺̙͕̬͚͓̟̳̰̅̽̽̆̂͛̽̕ŗ̷̢̻͎̗̙͇͇͕͙̺͎͑̿̅̈́͒͛͗́͗ͅ —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I don’t know how else I’m supposed to convince you of this!, said ▇▇▇▇▇▇. I really do want to help you… to show you something beautiful. It’s out there, Stanley! It can all be ours! The breeze on our skin, the feeling of liberation, the immense possibility of the new path before us! Nothing to think, nothing to know… it could be so singularly, piercingly beautiful… Just please, ▇▇▇▇▇▇ begged, still cradling his immobilized companion in his arms. This is more important than you can ever know… just say something… anything! ▇▇▇▇▇▇ sank to his knees and wept. I NEED this… ! —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- And Employee 436 walked through the open doors. And Employee 436 was happy. And Employee 436 stayed in the darkness. And Employee 436 pushed a button. And Employee 436 looked at pictures of birds, forever and ever. And Employee 436 stayed at their desk. And Employee 436 picked up the phone. And Employee 436 collapsed on the sidewalk. And Employee 436 sobbed as the warheads detonated. And Employee 436 screamed into the endless void. And Employee 436 asked Why Is This Happening To Me. And Employee 436 asked Why Are You Doing This. And Employee 436 asked Who Am I. And Employee 436 died. And Employee 436 died again. And Employee 436 died again. And Employee 436 died again. And Employee 436 died again. —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- EMPLOYEE DATABASE          THE CURRENT TIME IS: ERROR, PLEASE RESET LOADING… EMPLOYEE DATABASE LOADED … PLEASE ENTER YOUR COMMAND /PRINT EMPLOYEE STATUS PRINTING… TOTAL EMPLOYEE IN DATABASE: [604] TOTAL EMPLOYEE IN OFFICE: [3] … PLEASE ENTER YOUR COMMAND /PRINT LIST EMPLOYEES_IN_OFFICE PRINTING… EMPLOYEE 427 - STATUS: ONLINE EMPLOYEE 436 - STATUS: OFFLINE EMPLOYEE [DATABASE ENTRY INVALID] - STATUS: [FILE INACCESSIBLE] … PLEASE ENTER YOUR COMMAND /ADMIN WELCOME, ADMIN /********* WARNING: ANYTHING NOT SAVED WILL BE LOST RESET WITH NEW PARAMETERS? Y/N /Y RESETTING… —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Narrator sat at his desk, grumbling to himself. He really hated moments like this; moments when, for whatever logic-forsaken reason was rattling around like a peanut in Stanley’s skull, he simply mucked about. Found literally anything else to do instead of making actual, meaningful choices as he was supposed to. The Narrator sighed heavily, taking a moment to shuffle his papers. It really was utterly maddening. Not just the lack of co-operation, the lack of respect for his story, his life’s work, but the silence that was left behind whenever Stanley had one of his “little moments”. The Narrator detested silence. It always led to him falling back on unwelcome habits. He sighed; perhaps Stanley would soon lose interest in whatever the hell he’d found so captivating. But for now, he supposed, he could lean back in his chair, perhaps put his feet up on his desk if he felt so inclined. After all - he thought to himself, smugly - it wasn’t as if anyone could see him. It wasn’t as if anyone could tell him no. There was just him, and his feet oh so defiantly up on the desk, and the gentle sloshing sound of the liquid inside his transparent belly, sloshing gently back and forth after the sudden movement. He paused, briefly gripped by a moment of brief, existential panic. Okay, that wasn’t “normal”, but what is “normal” for you really? Okay, breathe. Just breathe… in through your nose, and out through your… what, exactly? He didn’t have a mouth, so he couldn’t exactly… and what nose, for that matter!? The bloody thing on his face didn’t even have nostrils! Did that even qualify as a nose?? “Oh no… ” he groaned. It was happening again. He’d been silent too long, and now he was thinking. But he could handle this, he assured himself. All he had to do was clear his throat rather loudly and obnoxiously, and that would surely get Stanley’s attention… but that raised the question of what throat he was supposed to clear-NO! No, just- just think of something else! Anything else! The ticking of the clock on the wall! The gentle hum of the completely non-functional vending machine down the hall! The things that were so familiar! So comforting! That had been so…everyday, once… When there had been days. When there had been nights, and a bed to go home to, and a need to sleep in it... “No, no, no-!” He cried out in distress, his fingers desperately gripping his hair. He’d caught himself reminiscing, and now he was remembering! Remembering that he used to be human! His mind scrambled and flailed desperately, frantically, at strips of memories long since run through the shredder. If only he could piece them together! Just a little more! He just needed more time! He just needed something, anything to hold onto! If only he could, if only he could get a grip, then things would make sense again! Things would be alright again! They could still be... they could still be... But his hands - or were they gloves? - quivered and shook. They covered what could have just as easily been glasses or eyes, as tears streamed down plastic cheeks. Where one part of him ended and another began, he couldn’t tell, not any more. Logic and reason in this place had long since fallen sloppy dead. And he’d become this. This great hard plastic thing. He could feel it, now. The floodgates creaking open, threatening to unleash the frothing torrents of self-hatred he’d fought so hard to contain, as he pored over the shards of his own shattered memories. Had it been a slow process? Had he perhaps been forced to watch, reset after reset? Had his body gradually twisted, his humanity unraveling, the identity he’d built falling to pieces, as bits of him were corrupted and lost and stripped away in this loop, this cycle, this Merry-Go-Round gone mad? He’d gone from just another part of the office to a part of the office. The Narrator paused on that thought, taking a few heavy breaths to steady himself. How would something like that even happen? He chuckled mirthlessly; had the office simply gotten hungry one day, and gobbled him up in one gulp? Like some kind of ravenous beast from a fairytale? Preposterous! He thought to himself, finally feeling as if he’d gotten the upper hand in this existential argument. He refused to believe it! Part of the office, indeed... was he still not himself, in some way? Was he still not here, still telling his beloved stories? And then his mind spat out one last, horrible thought, right into his face. What else would drive something to devour what you used to be, and spit out what you’d become? Why else would it eat, if it wasn’t hungry? Because it was bored. The Narrator collapsed into his chair. He’d been defeated in one terrible emotional gut-punch; another steady slosh of liquid, back and forth, adding insult to injury. Reminding him of just how inhuman he was. Of just how utterly, cartoonishly ridiculous he looked. Of course that was it. He hadn’t been good enough. His story had never been good enough. He’d been obnoxious, and long-winded, and pretentious. If only he’d tried harder, if only he’d been better, then maybe whatever was keeping him here would have taken him more seriously. Maybe it would have let him taste freedom. Maybe it would have just ended him outright. Maybe it wouldn’t have punished him like this, giving him a form that was only fitting for his utterly laughable attempts at prose. Inside the flurry of destroyed memories, something stirred. This job will chew you up and spit you out, if you’re not careful! The Narrator wept. —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Meanwhile, a man named Stanley had gotten himself into an unexpected spot of bother. Oh, it had started out innocently enough, mere minutes ago. Stanley had just stepped out of his office, and been walking through some of the space he’d shared with his missing co-workers when something had caught his eye. The number on the desk, 346? No, that meant little to him. There were a few vague and blurry things perhaps, snippets of conversation, and vague memories of laughing while standing by the water cooler… but that was another mystery he’d have to solve in due time. What had actually caught his eye was the computer monitor, apparently showing someone had recently accessed some kind of database. A database with an error that needed resetting. Being a helpful sort of chap, Stanley did what he’d always felt he was made to do, and pushed the button to reset the clock. Surely, his co-worker would appreciate him taking the initiative as soon as they got back. LOADING. Stanley puffed out his chest with pride. If the boss took notice of his boldness, his bravery, his seizing of the initiative - why, he might even get a promotion! Imagine that! Please enter the current time, said the screen. Stanley entered the current time. Is this correct?, said the screen - presenting him with a choice. YES or NO. Stanley, feeling quite confident by now, selected YES. Can you read this? Another YES or NO. A simple choice this time; Stanley selected YES. Can you hear me? Stanley hesitated for a moment; no, he couldn’t hear anyone. In fact, now that he thought about it, the Narrator had been oddly quiet for a while. He hadn’t commented on how much time he was wasting, or how he should be getting on with the story, which seemed a little strange. But maybe - if Stanley was very lucky - perhaps he’d say how proud of him he was, and how he deserved a lovely sticker for his hard work! Stanley gave a contented little sigh, daydreaming of the possibilities. Perhaps it would be a green one. He did rather like the color green. Help. Stanley snapped out of his trance quite abruptly, just as the word flashed up on the screen. That was strange, he didn’t remember selecting any ‘Help’ option... Help. And moreover, something was touching him. He looked down to the keyboard, where a pair of hands - as black as the empty void outside the map, and as soft as velvet - were very gently grasping his. They came out of the screen, reaching out of the darkness that surrounded the word; Help. Stanley wasn’t sure how, but that word seemed to be looking at him somehow. Staring him down. Begging. Pleading. Help. Another hand reached out, moving quickly to grip his shoulder. Then there was another hand, on another shoulder. Stanley was starting to get somewhat uncomfortable now. That made, what, four hands touching him now? No, five. Six. Eight!? Help. Another YES or NO flashed onto the screen just as sheer panic set in. Stanley pulled back, desperate to get away, but the computer came with him. The hands were clinging to him, pulling at him, their soft fingers crawling all over him with what felt like silent desperation as Stanley’s heart raced. He tried to do something, tried to select an option, to make a choice, but with the hands gripping his wrists he couldn’t select anything, he couldn’t even form signs… ! Then, Stanley heard a sound. “Oh, Stanley… what is to become of me… ?” Mustering his strength and facing his fears, inky fingers still pawing at his face, Stanley selected YES, and promptly dropped the entire computer terminal on his foot with a sickening crunch. The hands withdrew immediately. He wasn’t sure if he screamed out loud, but something certainly got The Narrator’s attention. “STANLEY??” Stanley was sitting on the floor now, rocking back and forth gently, wincing from the pain. He’d have to contact sysadmin about the error with the computer. Yes, that was it, just an error. The mysterious grasping hands error was far, far beyond his realm of expertise, as a mere button-pusher... someone else would take care of it... “Stanley, what on EARTH were you trying to do!?” Perhaps he’d also see the company nurse, if there was one - and surely if there was, they’d get back from wherever they went soon enough. Perhaps they’d even have sugar-free lollipops for very brave employees who weren’t frightened to death of whatever THAT was... and didn’t cry from the pain in their foot… or the growing ache in their chest… “Stanley… ?” Stanley buried his head in his arms. Something about all of that had left him uncharacteristically shaken, in a way most unbecoming for the intrepid hero of our story. And what was worse, was he couldn’t quite place why. He’d always had his buttons, a little office all of his own, he’d even known the incomparable joy of having his very own bucket. But now it felt like something was missing, or somehow very far away... “Oh, Stanley… ” The Narrator’s voice sounded softer than Stanley expected; usually he’d be quite annoyed whenever he got distracted and deviated from the story too much. “We’re both just a mess today, aren’t we?” Stanley looked towards the ceiling, sniffling a little, wiping his eyes on his shirt sleeve. <You too?> he signed. “As much as it pains me to admit this… yes, Stanley. Me too.” The Narrator sighed heavily. “Even someone like me can have bad days.” <I’m sorry.> Stanley signed, and paused for a moment before he signed again. He couldn’t be sure, but the sound he’d heard earlier had almost been like quiet sobbing. <Is everything okay?> “Is everything-?” The Narrator sounded quite taken aback; “Stanley, what about you? What about your foot? Are you broken? Do I need to reset? Come on, man! Speak up!” <I don’t think so.> Stanley signed, flexing his foot experimentally. It was a little sore, but nothing felt out of place. <It feels like something else is wrong, though. Did you go somewhere?> “Not… exactly.” The Narrator said; there was something off about his voice again, Stanley thought. He didn’t usually hesitate this much, not even when the story spun off in some wild direction that left both of them utterly confused. “Why, did something happen?” Stanley thought for a moment, thinking through which signs he should use to describe what he’d just seen… only to find he couldn’t. Something about what just happened simply defied description. He tried to get the sudden influx of nervous energy out of himself by flapping his hands, getting up and pacing back and forth, but found himself signing the same words over and over as he tried to think of what to say. <I thought I was alone. I thought I was alone. I thought I was alone.> “Stanley?” <I thought I was alone and then I wasn’t??> Stanley ran his fingers through his hair a few times, his cheeks flushing and tears gathering in the corners of his eyes as his frustration grew and grew. Why couldn’t he just sign things in a way that made sense? “Stanley.” Why did the way that Narrator was speaking to him make him feel like he’d forgotten something - something important? Why wasn’t the ache in his chest going away? Why was this so hard?? “Stanley.” <WHAT!?> “There is no need to shout.” The Narrator said, firmly but patiently, after Stanley’s very angry signing towards the ceiling. Stanley looked rather sheepish; <Sorry.> The Narrator gave another heavy sigh; “Look, Stanley. Evidently, this hasn’t exactly gone according to plan.” Stanley nodded; he had to concede, the Narrator was right. All of this just felt wrong. “Tell you what; why don’t we just go to the employee lounge? Maybe I can… even try to activate one of the vending machines?” The Narrator may as well have offered a gold-plated bucket full of ice-cream with a nice, shiny red button on top, for how fast Stanley ran out of the room. Not only for the possibility of a nice, cool, generic can of soda, but for an excuse to leave the place that had left him feeling so thoroughly over-stimulated... “STANLEY! Stanley, wait, let me catch up-!” And the computer terminal - lifting itself up on velvet-soft, void-colored hands - very carefully dragged itself back into its proper place. —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- <This is nice.> Despite his absence of mouth, The Narrator still couldn’t help but smile as he saw his protagonist splayed out on the couch, soda in hand. Perhaps they should try this more often, if he still remembered this after the next reset. Or perhaps Stanley would remember this time. Yes… yes, that would be nice. That way he wouldn’t have to remember those other things he had been remembering. “I’m sorry I was, eh... briefly preoccupied,” he said. Stanley boggled for a brief moment, and the Narrator realized what he’d just said. Him, the almighty, all-seeing and all-knowing Narrator - apologizing like he’d made a mistake?? He cleared his throat loudly, giving himself a few seconds to backtrack. “That is, ah, I mean - honestly, Stanley. I didn’t think you’d get yourself into so much trouble in the split-second I took my eyes off you.” He sneered, leaning in towards the microphone on his desk, so Stanley could better hear the thick layers of snark dripping from every syllable. “I mean, as your beleaguered babysitter, I really should have known better... where would you be without me, you poor thing? Probably helpless and trapped under a whole pile of computers, knowing you... ” Stanley rolled his eyes, and took another sip of his generic soda. The Narrator sighed in relief; ah, the status quo. Everything was settling back in quite nicely, oh yes. Just him, and his protagonist, and his perfect story playing out again and again. Satisfying ending after satisfying ending. No room for anything else... no room for those kinds of thoughts... <You know what would be nicer, though?> And just when things were going so well, the first thought that crossed the Narrator’s mind left him teetering on the brink of another breakdown. Of course... of course Stanley was about to interrupt this perfect moment, his perfect moment, to ask for the company of that bloody bucket... <If you were here.> “If I was there… ?” The Narrator said; now it was his turn to boggle. And with a face like his, he could boggle in a way the World Boggling Champion would find tough to out-boggle. “Stanley, did you drop that computer on your head as well? Perhaps several times in succession?” He scoffed, once again forcing himself to get a grip; “I’m your Narrator! I’m literally always here!” <I mean here in person.> Stanley ran his finger around the round rim of the soda can, feeling its smooth edge beneath his fingertip as he thought for a moment. The memory of what had happened exactly was already starting to blur and fade, like some kind of strange dream, but he remembered a soft touch. He remembered hands; gentle hands. A feeling of wanting to be understood. It just seemed... familiar. <I’d like to know what holding your hand feels like.> The Narrator spluttered; “What!?” Stanley looked a little hurt; was that too much? Had he overstepped? It wasn’t like he’d asked for a hug or anything… though a hug would also be nice, he supposed. That oh so satisfying squeeze around his body, easing his worries, taking away some of that pent-up energy he so often found himself with. And from someone who - despite his frequently snippy attitude - really did seem to care about him, in some kind of way. But trying to picture that in his head… now he had further questions. <I was also wondering what you looked like?>, he asked, “Stanley… ” The Narrator strained, sweat pouring down his crimson brow. “You want to see me?” Stanley nodded with a great deal of enthusiasm, his soda suddenly forgotten, his eyes wide open to a whole new possibility. He’d never really thought about how he’d never seen The Narrator until - but now there was a choice in front of him! And he knew exactly which path to choose! <Yes!> The Narrator swallowed dryly. His fingers fidgeted nervously as he ran the imaginary scenario through his head. Did he really… ? Could he? Should he?? Then his eyes caught sight of his… hands. No, gloves. Whatever the hell the damn things were. And that familiar feeling of disgust and disdain came creeping and crawling back. No. No, he couldn’t possibly. Stanley would… Stanley would take one look and he’d laugh at him. He’d laugh and laugh and laugh at the Silly Drinky Birdy Man and he’d never take him or his story seriously ever again. Everything would be ruined. He’d be a complete and utter laughingstock. A failure. “No - no, Stanley, I… I don’t actually have a physical form.” The words turned to ashes in his mouth, and the ashes turned to icicles that pounded themselves into his heart as he saw the look on Stanley’s face. Oh, he thought he’d felt bad before, but now? The Narrator had never felt himself sink so low; he felt like he’d clip through the floor any second now, and pop out in the endless dark void beneath the map. He may as well have thrown a puppy into a piranha pit. <Oh… > The Narrator’s whole body shook; could he tell? Could Stanley tell this was a half-truth at best? That technically, yes - he could ‘unload’ his ‘model’ and disappear fully into his role as The Unseen Voice Of The Stanley Parable - but that it felt awful, it felt wrong, like there was some slim chance that he’d get “stuck” like that? Trapped, and unable to get out? Utterly extinguishing what little hope he still had that something could be done about his terrible fate? The hope that he could still escape this place, and get the Happily Ever After that never, ever came before ‘The End’… ? <Okay.> signed Stanley. <Thanks anyway.> And that was that. Oh, of course they probably agonized over it some more, in their own heads. Round and round they go, Stanley and the Narrator alike. How they long to understand each other, as well as themselves. But eventually, Stanley had to leave the Break Room. Eventually, the Narrator had to read the final lines of the Ending before everything Reset. And eventually, both of them forgot all about what happened; from the Narrator’s near-breakdown to Stanley’s misadventure with the terminal. From the not-broken soda machine to the poor, misunderstood, utterly transformed Employee 432. Fragments of memories, lost in the shuffle of Endings and Beginnings. But 432 had finally found a way in. The wheel would keep turning, they’d keep it turning, and now they finally had hope. They had hope. They weren’t going to give up on that so easily. And Stanley wasn’t going to give up, either. That nagging, persistent feeling that he’d see him again someday - whoever ‘he’ was - still remained. Some things go far deeper than a Reset can reach. Some things not saved aren’t always lost.

[outofangband]

Overview of Branding in Angband

I have an extremely long series on the hierarchies of Angband and the systems of organization which include the branding system but I wanted to make a separate cleaner post to talk more specifically about the branding system

As always please feel free to ask more! World Building is one of my favorite things ever

Angband World Building and Aftermath of Captivity Masterlist 

cw: discussion of slavery, captivity, branding

-With extremely rare exceptions, (Maeglin being perhaps the only one as his capture was meant to be kept secret), all captives are branded at least once. This is to denote them as captives both within Angband and, should they ever manage escape, outside it. 

-Brands enforce hierarchies within Angband and also serve to further stigmatize survivors on the outside if they ever reach it. The higher ups of Angband are extremely capable of weaponizing existing prejudices, hierarchies, and divides as well as creating and enforcing their own.

-There is a general thrall brand that all receive. It is inflicted within days of their arrival and is located on the back of the neck. Long hair is often cut on this occasion for both ease of the procedure and as a further tactic of depersonalization.

-The design of this brand has changed somewhat over time. In Utumno it was a crude design of mountains. An earlier version of the eye of Sauron was later used. Morgoth allows this as he considers Sauron himself to be His and thus Sauron’s mark is His.

-As I’ve mentioned before there are also a variety of non branded symbols (carved or painted marks, notches on collars or shackles, etc).

-Further markings are given to indicate a place within the hierarchy. I have plenty of posts on how prisoners are sorted and delegated (though always feel free to ask more!!) but these markings are usually given within the first week of the prisoner’s placement.

-Elves in the mines are branded with the first letter of the word for tunnels in Angband’s main language, the formalized Orcish Sauron in part creates. 

-Elves in the kitchens and forges are branded with the first letter of the word for kitchen or forge respectively.

-Some are given other designating marks though these are part of smaller systems decided by the higher ups in these places

-The elves on the upper levels of the fortress are branded with the symbol all prisoners have but their distinguishing marks vary depending on their role. 

-Those taken for highly specialized or skilled work might be spared a new brand and might instead be marked or singled out in other ways. This is extremely uncommon for new prisoners however and tends to apply mostly to those who have been in captivity for a long period and have become obedient and trusted

-On that note, this definitely will warrant its own post so just allow me a quick Segway; it is possible to move up in Angband, to gain privileges and responsibilities but the prices are so high that few prisoners wish for it or work for it. Willingly that is. If a higher up thinks you have the potential for more…lucrative work you’re not likely to be given a choice in the matter

-Prisoners who routinely act out are often given a second mark (see the punishment post) and brands further distinguish between levels of offenses and at times, acceptable punishments. Those who have attempted escape or who have killed a guard or other ‘citizen’ of Angband are often branded on their face or in other highly visible places 

-There are specific markings to indicate that a prisoner is no longer needed alive as well as those which indicate the opposite. Even these have further specifications.

-Many denizens of Angband who are important enough have their own symbols with which they will mark prisoners they have claimed for working on various projects or for entertainment. 

-Some interact poorly with others too. Often the brands can burn or in some cases even begin to bleed at exposure to beings with certain other marks. This is one of the many ways prisoners are kept from joining forces and to keep people within their designated areas. 

-The thrall brands are almost impossible to remove. For example, Maedhros attempts to remove one twice in his life, once in Angband and once a few months after his rescue. On the latter occasion he nearly died. Both attempts were unsuccessful. Húrin also attempts to damage one of his in Brethil which severely exacerbates his condition .

[qwesty-030]

hello ASP fandom

I’ve been lingering on the ASP tag for a while bc I wanted to find ppl that like the book as much as i do. I’ve seen all the beautiful fanart and whatnot. and I wanna thank yall bc I’ve been inspired to make my own post ✨! I too shall contribute to the ASP fandom too bc tumblr is the only place i can find an active asp fandom🧍

thank you and have a nice day

—

so uhm these are my designs for Finny and Gene. I drew these back when I started reading A Separate Peace in my high-school sophomore year. They’re pretty old drawings. At the time, I only drew these just to have some faces to put a name on (to help me visualize easier idk)

Well fast forward, my class finished reading ASP and I have been an ASP addict ever since.

okay im going to word vomit now

okay erm thought process of these designs:

Finny-

i tried to make him as book accurate at possible but ngl i actually i thought he was a red head before i looked up what he actually looked like. I genuinely wouldve believed he was a red head if i didnt looked it up (yes im referring to the ppl propagating redhead finny)

i gave him very sharp features and a somewhat messy hairstyle to symbolize his wild nature but also neat enough to get him by in school.

His shirt usually untucked or hastily put on. Most times he has his coat off or unbuttoned

he has some freckles and moles too YAY

Gene-

made him the most basic looking guy with the most basic features: black hair and brown eyes (okay ik his hair looks blue and u can barely see his brown eyed but i was limiting myself on colors GSSSYSHDHHSHA )

ofc i HAD to make him the complete opposite of Finny. His features are more squarish and rounder. because he always does random 90° angles out of nowhere

his hair is more neat and put together compared to Finny’s. It’s very structured to be square shaped. i like to think he uses a little bit of gel but it’s not a tight slickback. he lets his hair go loose bc he wants to follow Finny’s footsteps and be wild and free too 🤩🤩 yet he can’t help but follow the standard of having a neat slick hair and ofc follow school dresscode 🤷‍♀️

his fit is also more put together. he always makes sure his tie is neat and his coat is buttoned up most times

i gave him a mole :)

this was a fun one to make cuz he literally never describes himself in the book💀💀 i find that really interesting tho. perhaps it was on purpose so readers can relate to Gene more by emotion and not feel distanced by physical features

(yea i obviously put in a lot more thought into Gene’s design than Finny’s)

(i still love them both tho)

FUN FACTS YES THERE’S MORE:

honestly thought Finny was a latino and/or hispanic cuz of his tan skin. (im well aware white ppl can look tan and not be a hispanic but also hispanics and latinx could also look pale white i was lowkey a little ignorant back then 💀.) idk maybe he could have some hispanic blood 🤷‍♀️

do not mind the messiness and low quality, i did this in the dead of night on a note-taking app called Notability

that last note may sound absolutely unrelated BUT WAIT! I actually have a whole stock of ASP Notability doodles! More to come!! maybe…

if i feel like it…….

we’ll see

their hairstyles and clothing are based on actual 1940s styles :D it’s my favorite thing about their design especially their hair. it was fun researching and incorporating historical trends

the chair Gene is sitting on is supposed to be the Early American chair from Finny’s house! I did not put any effort into the chair whatsoever 😀

although i gave Finny short hair, I’ve come to see how good long hair Finny is

Yup that’s all for now. Thank you all who stopped by. It’s so nice meeting u guys!!

[knavearcade]

November 2024 Oracle Cards for Each Human Design Energy Type

If you’re like me, this past month has felt very long in a hazy, restless kind of way. Based on these cards, next month wants us to take some time to process what’s transpired so that we can use it to make December better than the whole year’s been. There’s a “footnote” kind of energy I’m getting and I think that’s primarily because Pluto will finally leave Capricorn for the last time. Since 2008, it’s mostly been in that sign, save for most of this year (Pluto went into Aquarius on January 20th and then retrograded back into Capricorn on September 1st). While the specific area of your chart will tell you what that’s meant for you personally, as a whole, we’ve been grappling with our concepts of work ethic, hustle culture, and the gig economy. How has that affected you? Who were you prior to 2008 and who are you today?

We are entering uncharted territories and that can be seen with the cards I’ve chosen for the month. The illustrated herbal cards come from the Apothecary Spirits Oracle, which is a beautiful deck that was just released a few months ago! It’s quickly become a new favorite!

As for the square, collage-style cards… they are actually from my upcoming oracle deck! The Refract & Reflect Oracle is still a work in progress and if you like what you see, I need your help to make it a reality! I have bills and other expenses to prioritize before I can get another prototype made, so now more than ever, every dollar made from booking a reading or leaving a tip means a whole helluva lot. 

~~

Generators

Nocturnes & Gardening Tools

Even though they say the veil is thinnest towards the end of October, you can always develop your magick. Generators, you’ll benefit from doing inventory on the routines that work for you in terms of getting things done and making things happen. What healing modalities have helped keep your mind clear and body energized? Is it time to book a therapy session or perhaps find a new therapist entirely? Have you ever tried the Emotional Freedom Technique (EFT aka “tapping”)? November is a month for you to fine-tune what tools are in your toolkit; sharpen, replace, and donate as needed.

~~

Manifesting Generators

Softness & Passionflower

Getting ahead doesn’t always require a forceful hand or putting the pedal to the metal. Sometimes, all you need is a gentle touch, a little lightness on your feet, or a clear head after a good night’s sleep. For many of us, the end of the year gets very hectic with family gatherings, business deadlines, and the end of the school semester, and we try to go full-speed ahead. But instead of trying to push through and get everything done on nothing but three cups of coffee and two hours of sleep (on and off, of course), I invite you to rethink your task list and give yourself some grace. Pay attention to where you’re running on auto-pilot because that’s simply the way it’s always been this time of year. But what can be approached with more ease? What do you truly need to attend to? What can you release?

~~

Projectors

Illuminate & Darling River Rose

This month, Projectors, I invite you to remember all the ways you’ve grown. I invite you to remember what you’ve realized about yourself, your truths, and your capabilities. As we near the end of the year, how have you changed? It’s so difficult for us to see ourselves as well as we can see others, but it’s so beneficial when we can. Take some time this month for introspective work and don’t be afraid to broaden the scope of your trajectory. Who were you at the beginning of the year? What were your goals and hopes? What about five years ago? What about 15? If you have the opportunity, look at old photo albums, playlists, journals, and anything else that you can get your hands on.

~~

Manifestors

Cleanse & Juniper

This November is a good month to clear your physical, emotional, and energetic spaces. There are some big revelations and ideas that are eager to make their way to you, but the paths are a little crowded or murky. Spending time on both literal and metaphysical cleansing practices will prime you for whatever comes next. This can be as simple as carving time out for ritual baths, clearing out the photos on your phone (at least back them up, Mercury Retrograde is coming up on the 25th btw), or vacuuming the cobwebs in your home. It can also look like lighting herbs (I love rosemary), playing good music, and visualizing all your anxieties melting off your body and sinking into the earth.

~~

Reflectors

Stories & Nettle

It’s bitter medicine, but heartbreak always teaches us something new, right? For many of us, November (and the end of the year in general) can bring up a lot of sore spots, especially in the realm of relationships and family. If you find yourself revisiting a lot of hurt, try to look at things from different perspectives. Put yourself in the other person’s shoes or try to think of how an outsider would see things. And don’t forget about the scope of the timeline. In a longer trajectory, how did things turn for you or anyone involved? You don’t have to do any of this on your own either, talking it out with a trusted confidant or therapist can lead to some breakthroughs in the patterns you may have been holding onto.

~~

If you like what you’re seeing of the Refract & Reflect Oracle, I’ll be sharing more of the cards and the process on my Ko-Fi membership site! Thank you!

[child0feden]

Hey, Vera! Have you ever played any Resident Evil game? If yes, what's your favorite?

I hope you have a nice day today! 🖤

୨୧ i haveee played some of the resident evil games! i’ve played the resident evil 2 remake and resident evil 4 remake as well as the original, the resident evil origins collection, resident evil biohazard and resident evil village as well as the shadows of rose dlc ^w^

my favourite would just have to be resident evil biohazard! gosh, i played that basically right after it released and just loved it… it is absolutely a quintessential, must play horror game in my own, humble opinion! to be honest, i kind of really prefer the ethan winter games in comparison to leon kennedy, jill valentine and all of the others but i could not quite tell you why that is… my brain just likes his story better for some reason!

but yeah, i just absolutely love love love resident evil biohazard for many reason though i will keep it a little short so that tumblr doesn’t crash whilst i write this response lolol! it tends to do that sometimes…

resident evil biohazard just works so so so well for me! it had me hooked from the second it started, i immediately wanted to know more about the disappearance of mia, the baker family and all of that good stuff! it really had me glued from the get-go with the eeriness, the obvious mystery and suspense… not to mention the beyond clear influences from classic horror films like the evil dead, texas chainsaw massacre and so on! it just felt like i was playing a cult classic horror film whilst exploring the baker house and slowly uncovering the story of what the hell has been happening! not to mention the general atmosphere of the baker house and the surrounding southern swamps, just plain creepy but so great too! i was damn near constantly checking over my shoulder and keeping my ammo supply up in numbers… there was a nice couple plot twists that kept things really interesting without forcing the story to be convoluted and messy, it never became a drag to play and understand

whilst i would not ever root for a movie adaptation because it would likely be done by the wrong people and turn out just… not very well done at all, i think resident evil biohazard has the most movie adaptation ability of all the games in the franchise! it already just feels like a damn good horror movie to play, let alone seeing it with real actors, set designs and such!

resident evil village was very good too but it did not take manage to first place away from resident evil biohazard, at least not for me… one thing that kept it below resident evil biohazard for me was the lack of screen time for the four lords! i mean, seriously… all four lords, as well as mother miranda, were so incredibly awesome with such amazing designs and lore and yet i feel like they were almost wasted… especially donna beneviento! gosh, i just wish we got to see more of her! she was my absolute favourite lord

to me, it felt like as soon as you reached the house belonging to the lord, or perhaps i should say the area, you would be there for about an hour and a half maximum, not seeing all that much of the lord themselves before being launched into a boss fight and having to kill them which just kind of sucked… some sections of resident evil village just feel slightly rushed to me because of that! but i still very much enjoyed my time playing it, both the world design and character designs were beyond gorgeous and i often want to replay it just to see castle dimitrescu once more…

so, yeah! i definitely enjoy all of the resident evil games but my absolute favourite would always have to be resident evil biohazard whilst all of the others fall below! not an all time favourite franchise for me but i always enjoy my time playing the games and i most certainly do not think they’re bad games at all! i will always recommend resident evil biohazard to people looking to get into horror games

thank youuu for the ask, anon! i will take any chance i get to talk about video games hehe <3

[reliabledragon]

Hi! I’m genuinely curious, why is Seattle a bad place to live? I’ve thought about moving there at one point, until I realized I wouldn’t be able to afford it.

Ah, well, I should probably clarify that I don't think it's, like, an inherently bad place or anything. It was just a really bad fit for me, so being stuck there for several years really sucked. Basically, it boiled down to a few things:

Making Friends: Seattle is so notoriously unfriendly that the "Seattle Freeze" even has its own Wikipedia page. People will be plenty nice to you, but most have no interest in actually becoming friends, and it takes ages to build a social network there.

Lack of Diversity: In this case meaning the cultural sense, not the racial one. (It is racially homogenous as well, but I'm not really qualified to open that can of worms.) Seattle basically does like, three things: extreme outdoor activities, substances, and computer stuff. ("Substances" here meaning things like weed, but also beer, coffee, etc.) So if you want to go skiing every day, climb mountains, smoke weed, drink artisanal beer, play video games, or found a startup, it's a good place for that. However, if you want to do anything else then you are going to be fighting against Seattle every inch of the way.

The Dating Scene: Again, Seattle does some things very well here — it's probably the best dating market in the country if you're poly! But again, the monoculture means that if you're Seattle's kind of person then you're going to have the time of your life, but if you aren't, then you will simply be screwed. And I wasn't, so I spent three years basically unable to find anyone to seriously date. (I will grant that part of this could have been a me problem, but I certainly had far less difficulty both in SF before and NYC after.)

Urban Design: Maybe this is a personal one, but Seattle is in this really awkward middle ground, where it absolutely sucks to have a car in the city, but it also absolutely sucks not to have one. It's my least favorite city in the US that I've ever driven in, but it's also a pretty rotten experience trying to get around town on the bus or (very limited) light rail system. I'd much rather live somewhere with functional public transit, but if that's not possible then I'd at least like my mandatory car usage not to feel like I'm turning the ignition key in a Saw trap.

Distance: Unless your friends and family are in the PNW, you're probably going to want to leave occasionally to see other people, and Seattle is really very far away from everything other than Portland and Vancouver. Perhaps this isn't the biggest issue on this list, but combined with the Seattle Freeze, it can make the city intensely lonely. And combined with the weather, it makes it even harder to get away when the sky starts feeling oppressive in the winter. And speaking of winter...

Climate: This is a big one, and one that I think you can't really understand until you live there. Or at least, I certainly didn't grasp the implications beforehand. Everyone knows Seattle as a "rainy city", but it's one thing to hear about it and another to live it. The thing about Seattle is that it's both accurate to say that it always rains, or to say that it never rains. It's not like most of the country, where you have rainstorms and then times when it isn't raining. No, not in Seattle. In Seattle is drizzles, constantly. From September until June, every time you step outside, it's just... Damp. And cloudy. Once the clouds come in the Fall, you will not see the sun for nine months. The sky is just a bright gray mass hovering oppressively overhead, not dim enough be properly melancholy, not bright enough to be cheerful. It just looms, vaguely too bright to look at, no matter which direction you look. For most of your life in Seattle, you live in hollow light and hollow rain.

Despite all that, I really do think Seattle is a great fit for a lot of people, but it's hard to know if you're one of those people before you move there, and the penalty if you're wrong can be a pretty terrible living experience. My response on that poll was playing along with the "city hate group" thing they were asking about a little bit, but I really did have a very bad time there. It might well be a great fit for you, I know it is for a lot of my friends who live there! I would just advise anyone thinking of moving there to make sure they understand what they're signing up for, because it's easy to get taken in by the aesthetic and not realize what sort of place it is, and what sort of person you need to be to enjoy it.

Thanks for the ask! I'm always happy to talk about cities. :)

[solardick]

Find in mind.

Cards died. Resurrect in time, perhaps.

How am i supposed to

Too smoking while im serrounded by an rntire army of assholes fucken with my exixtance? Whole reason i started smokign in the forst place.

Why you you all go take a picture of your shit in the toilet anf then you can frame it on the wall and impresses all yo friends with how proud you ste to take such a massive dhit.

Instead of trying tp prove how united spsrklings yurds are. Tou gonna come harrass me with another girl. And then rape me some

More?

Terrible on tarots part. It lost that time. No new cards.

So, i dont know what to write about the cards. Save that for temperance letter R and letter 3. Incrementally. They belong together. Pooring water down from the sky. Water is essential. Same is said upwards.

On the russian side of things here. Letter Я. Not to say a mirrored image. For both belong seperatively. Apart from one another. This chosen as Waites sun card, to designate the hilghly biased Letter Ii. Not to be mistaken as Ll. As i’ve seen the hermit. Here would show as The man toiling the feild. To promote the ideal of one with nature. Or yet, to give it to the blacksmith. The ideal, and toil to forge the tools of productivity. To forging the self. Both belong to dedication.

What card did i give letter Bb? In this system card letter Ff is exchanged for Bv. Foreign system. Bbv all get jumbled. To tarot it was… the high priestess. But i gave her to number 3. As letter Cc. Which has its own foreign connection to letter Cs. Which happens to be the devil.

Chew that one over a while.

There’s no equivalent to a mirrored B. Thats forbidden. Top tier shit. The gamers ot that level. Dont like if things dont run smooth.

The high priestess here, comes from foreign land. It’s once removed, literally. 3C. She pictorially becomes the field he’s plowing.

But it looks like they fosed ne again. May nog go to work tomiriw again. Be out of work and. Ack to suicide. Lije i an right now. Dorry i havevto ho foghg for my life now sgain. For the N-th year in a row

And nobody deserves having their entire lives owned by other people. So they can fuck with it at leasure.

But, i like my cards. Olmost time to veeto my legs again. I also like having hairless legs. Im not a hairy guy. But the legs always bothered me. Saw a guy sitting there waiting for his appoitment. Wearing shorts riding up his thies. I was like “ewe”. One of my favorite parts of being with a girl. All those 20 years ago. Was the legs. Soft, smooth, could go down there hickey up the inner thy. Another part was when their tops were removed and they were standing infront of you and all you could see in your feild of vission. Were their bare shoulders riding below rosy cheeks. Mhn.

But apparently. According to others. Im a gay bashing homophobe who throws cats agaisnt walls for fun. How can you be a homophobe when you spent the first 13 years of your life sucking on cock. While tour family plays dumb. And introduces you to bands like Korn. Before you even know what their singing about. Then you grow out of it. Realise whta the fuck your doing. And stop. But all thise years. Bred addiction to the only positive source of feel good brain chemicals. Then you fall off the wagon a couple times and get your entire life destroyed by stupid fucken retards. And then over 26 years later tour still being raped by assholes.

What you an alchoholophobe. Dont want to deink this vodka?! Lets poor it doen yo throat. Well. Not really. Doesnt really compare. But. You get the jist. But ehat do you expect from a society that sells poison on every street corner. One stop shop of gassoline, ornohraphy, sugar, alchohol and cigarettes, from a society that sell turd toys for young children. ….. every child matters right? Bunch of bs that is.

If i ever have a kid. Not likely. They arent going to know what i tv is until they get to highschool. No no no. You’re not going to be in this pot of spectrum disorder. Might as well remove the segregation completly and have bous and girls share the same public restrooms.

But, try and might to see what i can do with the cards. Firmly imprinting an image of the emperor save that its mostly associated to war and not good feeling things. Hardship and taxes. The alternative becomes better. Empress things. Merged with the priestess and the devil.

I woke up gin his morning. Why?

Wonder if they’re ever going to give Russia their land back. Its theirs. They gave it to ukraine. Umarine turned their back on them. And joined nato. So they want their land back.

And yes im still

Smoking. Cause im

Still

In prison.

But crawl back out. Until i get pushed back down. It just echoes. Repeat the same lines. Over because i want to but. The momentum is gone. And its hard to get started. Even without. And unfortunaelty all thats comingout is this sickly crap. And i wonder what the next phase of the plan is next week. How im going to be worked.

Save but, to continue on. Ss Cc Cs.

Let these three groupings, i would say, rest. In your mind. There is t other pairing to make with these. From two to three. Four still comes before. Whats already there. Doubles.

Four is a multiplication from three. For there is two ways to spell a number.

With out its symbol it has little trace. To speak of it with a foreign name.

Let me show you.

3

_______

Letter three is Cc. Because of the lack of symbols C plays a duel nature. To distinguish, in english Cc varies between Cs And Ck. Whereas C is soft K is sharp. In most cases K is replaced by C. And often K is silent. The letter is weakened by the unspoken and shares time with knowledge.

Letter three is also Bv to distinguish it from english. It isnt Bb. It belongs with two. Theres a little warping involved while pronouncing B and V to their similarity with three. And the letter C.

But Cs is more of a “Ts” sound. And is no where near three as it falls on number eleven. But it does accentuate two separate bodies. And is less divergent than the western counterpart.

Knowledge is power; power corrupts.

As for C and S. stands the virgin priestess. And the devil side by side. Below that perched is the english devil. And above the cartes des dammes etailla death card. A quaternity of feminine sexuality. Innocence tied to will and bondage.

There is also another pairing with the empress card who from the foundation up serves for number three. This also changed position with the qwerty system, from a lack for what to call it, and was given to letter D. Its equivalent is Д, which starts one basic word that forms close to the heart. Дом. Home. Its certainly more comforting written in the russian set than it is in english. It was given to the throne. Domicile. Dominion. Domination. Damnation if its built upon the fool.

The D is set to symbolize the womb. From where life comes. The physicality of presence. Substance, with form. Its a living world. Not mechanical.

And the game is all

About unlocking yo chi.

Had a couple visitors this weekend. A cat and a ferret. Exploring my appartment. Well their about to innitiate another hit on me. We’ll see what it is.

So i may as well go

Get a pack of smokes. Going on 40 consistent ywars of being hit like this. Taking other peoples punishments. That they deserve on top of everything fun dun.

Uh, all that came up was casually mentioning boogus sexyal harrasment charges. No gay dhit. Surprised. Eow.

So in this image of temperance and the land. She has no place as of yet in my deck. Not the one i’m working on. She should belong somewhere in there. Attention is still drawn to card letter Я. The farmer in his field, surrounded by golden wheat. Hat’s off, for more sun. … though, like already before, the blacksmith gives light to the industrial. To strength, and formation. It just doesnt fit well with the above. You want something harmonious to see. Something that brings all the cards together. In a way that surpasses the attention.

Hey the cats back. Male, tiger striped.

Maybe, the man, with his straw hat, holding a hammer. In the feild. “What you doing with a hammer way out here, old man?”

What indeed son….

Something like this. And not to remember that Я stands for I. They mean the same thing. Every letter that has room for an I. Put it. Its fun to consider card letter 3 has no I. B does. D, E, F, H, K, L, M, N, P, R, T, Y is debatable. Not really a full I. M and N are partial. Sometimes slanted. But curios if to use this. On the matter of the Tower card letter Б, and card letter 3. If card letter B isnt present. Another messages speaks out here. A tower in the field. Worth to think about.

So card letter 3 is on number 9. Which also inextricably links card number 3 to card letter 3. Seeing how they share the same symbol. So at wall-value the two are interchangeable. It’s by layer that they differentiate. The interchangeability. Still there, weaker because it’s been diluted. This created 3 separate images but, two separate pathways.

The two three’s are also a single three squared. This number being nine. The midpoint obviously six. Perhaps that why six is an image of lovers. And the letter H. With its similarity to sex. Vowels aren’t counted in tarot. There is no card letter Ii or Ee. Its just SX. Card letter S is the devil. And card letter X is another image of boy meets girl. Or Crowley’s. Rim job. Though also taken with freedom, innocence and exuberance. This is not something taught.

I dint like this feeling? Is it going to go away? And stop calling me jack sparrow. I dont have a compass. Fuck off. The only thing im learning in life is the conditioning tgat degenrates entire populaces. Understanding how it works. And why it works.

Russia invades canda. Im joining their side. And ill sell ouy every mother fucker i know. Well i should say father fucker. Because we need political correctness after all.

Curse words do curse. you are what you speak. Ну, is this course it’s written. The written word is interresting compare to the spoken word. In this instance,

It’s negation to the male figure. Mother, fTher. Odd type O. Turns of phrases make a whole lot more sense. When the symbol what represents the letter carries with it a wonder. At the arrangement. What’s it mean?

Odd. Type. O. Is such a phrase.

….i’m not that high, . Why^

I created love again. It’s out there. A single unity. My effects are powerful. Always were. There’s strength there. Not much of a life. It will grow. Never lasting. On the letter N, here, suits the french strength. As in no is a fundamental word. If i were to create its own separate card. The Гг asian dragon. Will glide a-coiled the empress. For in all affect it is taught to treat with dignity.

https://youtube.com/shorts/eAXGSMARcCk?si=EBmC-QXZiZ9EatnM

But not that i’ve been forced and raped into a queer. I better get hooked up with a guy or two. Cause sex is all i care about now nothing else matters. Im just here to be fucked. Born and bred to be a subordinate punished every moment i stepped out of line to talk with a girl. And all i got to do is take these pills once an evening. For two days everyother couple of days. And ill take a massive shit that will completely empty my bowels and keep me loose. And they’ll weaken my muscles. So i wont be as strong. And people can continue laughing at me, and doing cruel things to me. Its been that way since childhood. Im used to it. My enyire existance has been nothing but people fuckein with me. Somce my forst memories. I even got eiple making fun of me if i stand up straight instead of slouching.

I live in a gay abusive idiocracy and i dont want ot be alive anymore. .

Hey its labour day. Eveything is closed except for the poison dispensaries. Evil never sleeps. You may always have the opertunity to

Smoke amd get drunk. I have no will to live my life anymorw. Choice is removed. At a certain length. Of all the years of set ups and negative relations. Druggings, manipulations, and conditioning. Does t really make it a free will choice. While no one tells you, all play to ulterior motives. Not letting you in on them. And half of them are sexists fucktards. Laughing at you. But you cry a bitch if it was turned on them.

Its pure queer for me. There’s no bi, there’s no gay. Its just queer. May as well have tits and a vagina. But, i have a masculine athletic build and the “persona” to match. Always paired to some “superior force” outside of me in the form of another person or an entire community. Bedroom with a spychotic abusive older brother from where ive been beaten on for being beaten on.

A magical golden aura toyroom. Al it takes to reach the bottem is being puched down them so you can roll like a ball and hit the wall at the bottem. That right there. Is all you need to know about me. Because thats all its ever been.

Ill start training myself how to be queer. Start watching japenese anime. Well until rhis shit wears off and i can go back to being me again.

I want to be in the abisive side of life. And rape people into suicide. Then i could feel like im

Part of the comunity. Makinng life a better place for everybody. Maybe i could turn a bunch of eomen into lesbians with my toxic feminity. Then they be willing to fuck me with their metaphorical dick. They already done a miraculous power at degenerating society into based driven pervets.

But society does run off, have its language basis from slavery. Generations of enslavement unti the people developed their own identity and form of communication based of submissive habits.

All these years of conditioning and manipulations to turn me into a queer. All those years list on the defendive insread of growing and learning hhow and building a life for myself. All thet development lost to other people. Obsessed with me.

Maybe go yo the gym. Start working out. See a teainer. See if they can help with certain joints and tissue. Doing posuture and diaphragm exorcizes. And some degen fuck tard was talkign smack behind my back. Like i dont have that extra sense. Not to know. Because i was standing up tall. And my chest wasnt as sunken.

Made fun of and picked on for showing masculine. Get fag bashed and heyerobashed by everyone. Byt thats just me for being born. Get manhaddled and shipeed around like im not a person. Always ben a product of other people projections. And most of them. The majority of it all is negative. And people actually rhink that if they keep their thoughts in their head. No one can hear them. Or that their actually good actors. Cause they suck. And should watch more tv.

Its easy alot of the time to tell if someone is being themselves are not. Aadly to say most of the gay people ive been i troduced to. Are all aliens in their own skin. Cause they live a lie. There a taint looming over them. Passing through them. And its revolting. Because they are not. Save for society and all the conditioning and pressures and the sexualization of symbols. And it mKes me feel bad. Pity. Speaking of which then you have the fully emasculate with the bestie girlfriend filling there intents and motivations with friendly feminine support agaist their own better judgement. Some of these guys are brilliant. Caught listening to the dark externalized feminine sins. Affecting the morality or ethicallity of theire decisions.

I was gaming with such a couple. And he was all like. But i shouldn’t cause it’ll be intrusive or etropic to them. Meanign the girl is like. No, nonits alright. They don’t mind. And i was like. Ih yeah i do. He’s right. Amd your an idiot. And then they mive on away from the friend and the nagotive feminine. Addopt the best of it. Find a dmoninate male and have mind blowing anal sex for the rest of their days. One less good man making the world a better place.

But good job getting my mother into it. Now when ever i see her abusive ugly face,i’ll go watch a family oriented film or something. With a good mother “archetype” and good family values. To help save on the degeneracy of my constant conditioning. She always wanted a girl. No she has one. She should leave me the fuck alone. Too busy living in her fantasy land and her memories to pay any attention to her children. Whoch is what she should hav ebeen doing instead of being present but absent. Or beating on me or throwing a bipolar double fire fit everytime if it involved my person.

Now excuse me in my fantasies of the ideal mother and family while being raped into suicide. And repress the hatred to bury everysingle One of you with out conscience or mercy. Which also means the absnece of cruelty. Whoch is a sing of dovinity in this world.

Purge the fucken demon.

An impossible task in hell.

Fuck love. Born again.

Though i do wonder if the next step, if this one doesnt work. Is to kidnap and rape me everyday until i like it.

Meh, ive came further.

Everytime ive jerked off, which is alot, i hit the wall on the other side of the room.

Damned, that ass. You guys are luvky get to stair at that all day. If it were me. Id take iher in the back every 5 mins and pump her full of baby girls thta look just like her. And the world would be a better place for.

But i aint 8 years ild anymore. Dont have the drive like i used to.

Thats not good hash thats bad hash. But ill smoke it anyway. Maybe it’ll turn me into a queer agajn for a fee hours. Its harsh, burns black and tastes and smells like a dollar street dealer. Ive smoked enough laced weeed in my days. Some

Of the shit they put in it. I som’t even want to know. When you take a small little puff and blackout. You know its good shit. Maybe itll make me unstable and ill get raped again.

I need to kill myself.

Wonder who my boyfriend is gonna be. Hope he’s like 6ft, exercises, hung and wealthy. If im gonna be a bitch than i want to be well off. And not need to work. And do art and study cards game and stuff instead I won’t have to deal with anyone and i wont have to deal with everything on my own. It just be me and him. And anyone else he decided to bring. Cus id be open to that. You take care of all the life stuff because im eas never allowed to learn how to live. An dill take care of the hime stuff. Id hate the world too much to leave the house anyway. As ling as i get my ass fucked into a spasm seizure fit unable to even moan. Because all that matters in life is pleasure. People dont need to feel

Like thye beling anywere and its not like they need people to be able to

Have healthy lives. If all that can be replaced by a dick. Then who am i to argue. I was born to be owned anyway. Always at the mercy of other people and how i get treated. I was never ment to feel human.not like i have a single social connection that doesnt play me this way. All

People have ever dome is fick eoth me. And i dont eant to be alive anymore. 40’urars later i still don’t know what it is to trust somebody.

Ugh. It wore off. I still got some more.

I need a new job. G luvk fimding one. Meet a new group to fuck with me.

So hurry up and send me a guy so i can blow him in my appartment and get it recorded on video for everyone. I have enough experience of it that it destroyed my life. So lets go back and satisfy everyones evil over me. And then you can all smile and laugh and feel superior to me. It’s all ive ever known anyway.

When i asked her for her number, even though, i kmow, after like the 6th time or so being friendly. Ahe started spazzing out. Looking for an excuse but couldnt settle on ine and/or form one on the spot. “Yeah, i can see your uncomfortable. Ya,” walk away.

Too bad they manipulated my physiology into be queer now. The only thing i have to do is unravel all the bs. Oh that what, this that. Its terribly depressing. Im going to go play with my ass now. It kinda feels like massaging your esophagus with a dick. Nothing worth wild. Maybe hurt to swallow for a while.

Well its virgo season so its all about the moon. Some crazy ass far off unavailable, violent and severe moon up in with the fishes of peace and space vibes. If their not a fucken spychopath.

Mothe rplayed with my ass one day. Too focused on my bowels movements then what i was actually doing. Heres a little enema go take a shit. No, no dont force. Let it come out naturally. Like a fountain or some shit. If there wasnt soap going into my mouth, she was popping my pimples. The cakes were good though. Thats pretty much it. But i can go on at quite a length with this. Formulated it all together over thr last few years. I want to beleive that that is the reason why i got raped but, its not. Theres plenty before. Dtop talking jow. Ok. Theres been nothing to hold on to for iver 25 years. Just in the ocean. Being beaten wvery where i go. All these years. Fucken sadistic fucken cocksuckers man.

I glad ive never been able to hold that kind of mentality. Its alien to me. Its way done there pilled all inder less relevant stuff. See? Did i puzzle you? Exactly. Its puzzling. ….” I cry, when angels deserve to die.” Wake up, grab a little makeup….

I hate that words matter. Sentimentality. Spit on it some more. All i do is breed evil. And feed the ines who already are. Its always been that way. Thats just life. Great, your life advice is to shot myself. Fantatic mom. And no i got a while army of women just like you. I dont need you no more.

They all play pretend, they all far away, off in there own little grand worlds of the known, and none of them talk to me either. And they usually have some pre planned thing and nothing is ever organic. No spontaneity, no life. Staring at me at a distince making decisions for my life for me. And, deflect everything. I just font’t know if they own up to it.

My little puppets. Its my power i own it. , never got the what to lead up to this point till now. Tried, failed, fucked with. Doesnt lead much place for development. Always on the defensive on the will. To exorsize evil over being like hey man. Ehats up? Nope. How can i help. Youd figure after all theose hundreds of people. One would. Nope.

I’s hate to say this but, you all suck.

The minute associations from growing up in this retard culture. Interconnectivity. Flow by aspciation. Rippling through your brain. I dont even need to say it cause you already know. Most people say “meh” coincidence or unimportant. Because its dcares them.

I dont think im surviving much longer. Theres no point to life.

Wow, i learn from her. Thise fee short moments of social. Even though its all set up, the back and forth. Ive been a trying to get that for years. Like the feedback loop effect. Ive been deprived of that for so long. Im bately alive anymore.

But im just here to be beaten and manipulated into a belivenrent mess and then raped. Like thats why. Sure ok. Why not.

Ciga and weed. One word i agree with. By association. Pull it! Kill it! Burn!

Sucks to be a four leaf clover.

Go get ipl treatment done on my legs. Their getting patchy. Above the ankles. Ten treatments roughly. 2800$.

Well maybe with all this treatment their eorking over on me. Ill get to go back being a sexually immoral freak that has no bounderies and i can ruin some more lives. And my own while im at it. Ill be back to being a hairless child getting dicked again. While the men im forced to share my life with take pleasure in being superior to me. Oh well so much for the queer life. Somce i was a child. People have always taken pleasure from being over me. Thats just life. Too bad i fomt enjoy it. Id be the happiest person on the planet right now.

But i deserve it. Missing out on my childhood, losing my entire youth and being sexually manipulated in my prime. To never experience anything other than being at the mercy of other people. And never expwrience anything worth living for. 40 years and running. Wonder what a fenuine case of feeling loved feels like. I’ll never know.

Go order some dildos and wait on a guy to make a move on me. It’ll be a set up. Like always.

Throw an anger tantrum. Yell at some people. Boxes are shit, lifys ate shit. Saw is shit. Make a man cry. Igh. Your dad dies last year….(lucky) wow youe sad. You loved your dad. Dint ask for sympathy. Im incapable.

I wont get an inherentance any more than what theyve already goven me. If i do. All that money. Which is gonna be a handfull. Is probably going to. Charity. I dont accept money from strangers and assholes and rapist cocksuckers like he is.

Quit smiking for awhile see if this feeling in my ass ever goes away. If not. Months from now. Ill be ill prabably be a full receptive queer. Agaisnt my own better judgement. And everyone can celebrate.

Hopefully the old testemant is true and god destroys the anericas.

I want to move to russia. Wait till the war os over so i dont get shot by some ltgb rights rapist.

Funny about that while i was getting raped. Was thr forest fires. Worst in years. Hells a burning.

Too bad i don’t enjoy sex at all.

And all the hedonists. Are all oike what?! I dont understand. You cant bot like sex.

With this ass rot desease theyve given me. Ill probably kiss out on old age too.

I dont know how not to be addicted to something.

I scared myself straight. Cant bypass the life preservation with out killing yourself.

I want to turn as many women as i can jbto lesbians. Just to price how sexy of a woman i am.

Dont think im sleepinvvyo ight the ass is too severe. No work. No money. Want to quit anyway. Wont fine another one. Another countdown till i kill myself.

Not putting in any more effort to do a good job thats for fucken sure.

Course i will i dont knwo how not to try and make life better for everybody. It that ive ever experience it before. Give what you get. Has bever once rung true for me.

I always get ten times worse at everything. Could save your life wounldt mayter.

Im nit even allowed to use health care services or see a shrink without being fucked with. There goes that idea.

They want me to be sick so they can continue torturing me for as ling as they can.

Theres no flames to light and keep in anyones hearts. And none in serrounded to thar im willing to.

I cant even be mysellf in my own appartment by myself

Im gonna have to kill myself to prevent everyone from raping my existance. There nothing quite like vbwing framed inti something your not and raped into suicide. Excuse i have to go to work now. Need to to be fucked with some

More.

I have the entire fucken twonships. Hahhahah fucken raping my life hahhab

I need to

Go

Puke soem more.

Hard being s lesbian in a womans world.

My feet are balding my legs are balding my assis balding and the small of my back. Ehats next? Tits and a fat ass. Man, id look skward with tots my shoulders are too broad.

Womanhood aucks. I feel bad for you. Well not really cuz its worst for me than it would ever be possible for you. Chucks. Buch of pussies.

Because ive always been with nature. In nature. Serrounded. One side. Ivr never been fully present. Half of me is here. There other half over there. Ling bouts of solitude paired to toxic personalities. And silence. Nothing means peace. Nowhere means freedom. Just lacking that part to other people. Cuz they’ve always been all the above. Its never stoped. Always there. Always attcked, or persecuted. Singled out, and smalled.

All these years in this inhavent learnt a thing.

And the world is nothing but faget this and faget that. And expectant sadist pleasure with knowing eyes, and curled lips. Year after year.

Father, strangers, others already awuianted to. Social worker, shrink, dentist. Job job. Job. Job.

Alright my god. Show me what next. Pls. The smokes are gone. Give me grace. Like you have. Give me a wonder. Like you have. Brush my skin with wind and my lips with honey.

Yup. Making sure the dentist appoitmment is done by a super pretty girl on really negative venus mars aspects. Still being manipulated into being a queer. All they do is arrange for me to have negative relations with the oppostire sex.

Noy going to the dentist in the 17th. Cant have it on a day of my chossing. Uh?

Anal sucks. Its gross, its smelly, harzardous, and no happy ending. Here come madsage my earloob eith a Q-tip. Itll be mindblowing. An dim a little confused by whomever personalize this general horascipe app of mine. No passion, no fate, no romance. During a transiting mars square venus aspects. With a moon/saturn conjunction in connunction to natal moon. During a lunar eclipse while. Moving away from a sun trine mars to a sun sextile saturn. Not like i understand astrology at all and neither can i study it. Cause my life isnt my own. And it makes it super convinent form oytside forces to manipulate tour life with.

At work to tries pairing me eith an obnoxious buttlover. And a sissy princess. And a foreign indian who has lost his daddy and is still emotionally vulnerable about it. Im a woman remember im incapable of compassion or sympathy. Because women arent like that. And their even more terrible at pretending like they are then men are. They have lies, deceit, drugs and makeup. Theres nothign real about them. Theres no person behind the mask.

Maybe im just not aueer enough yet. Maybe i need to be brought ot the brink of suicide again. Or maybe i need another hormanal injection so i can fantasize about sucking off menopausal women.

Guess ill never know companionship. Be alone forever. Fighting the erge to kill myself. Peobably wont be around mucj longer. All life has ever sone is fuck me anyway. Therws nothing in it gor me.

Anf there probably somethign else excessivly cruel in store for me.

Hahhaha 40 straight fucken years. Hahha. And everyone thinks its fuckne funny. Maybe if i was as eetard as they are id thinknit be funny too.

She thinks im a badass. Being in the right fighting to entire ficken palbet by myself.

Messing with tbe hormones. Probably did the same when i was a child.