#shitty mom and if her mom had the ability to change she could have changed all along she just didnt.

[batcavescolony]

What ever you do don't think about Percy reading Estelle a little kid version of 'The Odyssey' because that's what Sally read to him but he doesn't want to scare her. Don't imagine Sally looking on with guilt in her eyes cus she HAD to read him the real one so he knew what to expect. Don't think about Sally looking down on her little girl with tears in her eyes cus she doesn't need to worry about snakes in her bed or teachers being Cyclopes. Don't think of Sally seeing Estelle with Paul and having to leave the room cus when Percy was that age they had Gabe. Don't think of the unimaginable guilt that Sally must feel for being relieved that Estelle's biggest battle at 16, is her Dad being her teacher. And whatever you do don't think about Percy feeling like an outsider in his own family even though he gets constantly reassured that he's part of it and loved.

[selene-moonie]

AOT: Faith in the 'Cause' and Social vs Inherent Value

NOTE: SPOILERS for the entire series. Also, I'm not saying anyone is right or wrong here. I only hate the shitty parents. Each character worked within the worldview they were raised with, and each of their decisions matter in the story.

Let's get a few definitions out of the way to start:

The 'Cause' - whatever you believe in that's bigger than you. Saving your country, ending the titans, getting a better life.

Social Value - when your worth comes from your ability to support others or your accomplishments.

Inherent Value - the idea that everyone has individual value regardless of their social accomplishments.

There are a few different types of parents. Some raised their kids to believe in a 'cause', others didn't, and some originally believed in a cause and then started valuing their kids as individuals.

Let's start with one of the original villains - Grisha Yeager. He raised his first son to believe in the 'cause' and valued him mainly for his ability to progress this cause. He will be written into history as a monster, like his brother, but it started when Grisha and Dina removed his humanity.

Zeke valued himself so little that he got his parents killed, endured years of spinal injections (and essentially became a male brood mother which is horrifying), had no close relationships other than the one with his mentor, and died for his sins right after he finally started smelling the roses. That is a fucking tragedy if I've ever read one.

His brother didn't get it any better either. Eren grew up with more love, and less of a cause than Zeke, but Eren picked up his own cause and inadvertently copied his dad. Eren's mom is a black haired woman, and Eren kept everything secret from his loved ones till it was too late. He's also dead because he valued himself more for what he could do for his friends than actually living his life.

Which is a shame because Mikasa deserved better than beheading the man she loved. I know Eren couldn't end the cycle of violence himself, he could only save the people loved, but it sucks that he had to die to do that.

I do want to say here that the parents who pushed their kids to further the cause are the ones aware of the reality of the world, like the fact that there's a war, the discrimination against the Eldians, etc. The parents who raised their kids not to believe in a cause, but instead valued them as individuals are the parents unaware of these things.

That doesn't mean they lack awareness of their immediate reality, as in the case of Artur Braus, Sasha's father. He straight up told her she could hide out in the forest and choose to not adapt, but he would change his family traditions to cope with the changing world. Her response was to rebel by joining the military but Sasha eventually came into her own and was one of the best members of the Scouts.

I think of how Sasha and her dad were key players in making sure another Eren wasn't created in Gabi. Her entire character arc was her learning that the Paradis Eldians were people just like her. The kindness, courage, and fighting skills that Sasha brought to the table years prior paid off in Gabi's interactions with her family, which is eventually what changed her mind. I just love seeing the cycle of violence end.

Jean is another one who was brought up with inherent value. He was self-absorbed and self-interested, but also ended up having one of the biggest character changes throughout the story. Jean quickly realised that his skills weren't as useful inside the walls as outside. He also chose not to kill a child soldier, in addition to saving Reiner, despite everything Reiner had done. He was one of the pettier characters, yet he grew into a really responsible man who chose to do better than continuing the cycle of violence as well.

Now the third type of parent is the one who originally valued their children for their social value, but eventually came to love them for their inherent value. These include Karina Braun and Leonhart. Karina straight up used her son to get a leg up in their society, and Leonhart adopted Annie for that purpose which is wild to me. I'm not sure how, or why they started loving their kids after they'd gotten them into the war criminal stuff, but hey, their kids eventually started making decisions that aligned with their true identities. Annie just wanted to go back home, and even though Reiner developed borderline personality disorder and suicidal ideation, he turned out ok as well.

I do wanna talk for a sec about the fact that the ones who were valued socially engaged in the most self-sacrificial behavior. Eren was in love with Mikasa since day zero or something, but he never told her. His relationships were strained and eternally kept at arm's length for his cause. Zeke didn't even have close friends, and Pieck apparently always knew he was a liar.

Meanwhile, the ones who saw inherent value in themselves ended up being the most well-adjusted of all the kids. They were also the ones to reach out and bridge the gaps between the Eldians in the end. Sasha probably never went a day wondering if her best friends loved her, and even though Niccolo hadn't proposed, she probably fantasized about marrying him as well. She lived fully, though she became a casualty of war. I don't think the ones with the causes got to do that.

The kids who eventually learned to value themselves as individuals (Rei, Annie, and Historia) had to assimilate their shadow selves, and they also learned to live life for themselves.

Each of these kids' parents had an active role in the decisions they made and how they valued themselves. The ones who were valued socially died alone and sad, while the ones who did die but were valued inherently had happier relationships. And the others just had to find ways to deal with the shadows they had collected along the way.

[readychilledwine]

For Richer or Poor

Summary - Rhiannon and Rhys struggle with finding each other the perfect solstice gift

Warnings - smut, angst, virginity loss

A/n- this started as angst and fluff and kind of took on a mind of its own.. I apologize for the delay on getting it posted. Miss Sophia has had a mind of her own the past couple days so I've been a little busy forgetting to queue things ❤️ baby daddy's scheduling is now back in place, though.

Peep Requiem for a Dream here

“I don't understand why you are putting so much pressure on one gift,” Azriel stroked Rhiannon's back as she cried. “Rhys loves you, not any materialistic thing you could buy him.” Rhiannon broke down again, back shaking with each heavy sob.

That was the issue. She could not buy him anything. When her father had thrown her to Azriel's feet and abandoned her with her older Brother, he had left her with nothing but the clothing on her bloodied back.

She had no money.

No title.

Nothing she could gift Rhysand for their first Solstice together.

She couldn't even bake him anything nor cook him a dinner. Not unless the two young fae wanted to undergo a Mating Ceremony.

She had little to offer him while he gave her the world. Constsntly showering Her in gifts from Velaris and any court his father would force him to visit.

From teas and treats to lavish clothing, Rhiannon had it all, but she never had the ability to pay it back.

Rhys and his mother walked the Palace of Thread and Jewels. He was carrying the many bags she had accumulated as she shopped for him, Cassian, Azriel, his sister, and now Rhiannon.

Rhys was struggling with gifts for the latter. He had spoiled Rhiannon so much over the past year, and he was lost in what to get the female he'd hand the world.

“What about just something simple? A necklace? A bracelette?” His mother wrapped a Hand around his bicep. “She enjoys blankets. Perhaps a soft new blanket.”

Rhys stared straight ahead. “Nothing says I love you and want to spend the rest of my days with you like a shitty last minute blanket, mother.” He sighed, knowing what he wanted to do, but knowing his father would have his head.

He allowed his mom to pull him into the finest jeweler in the market. “Just do it, Rhysand. We will hide it until we can't anymore.”

Rhys held Rhiannon tight that night. Refusing to let Her go near the small tree his mother was placing presents under. They had been friends for 4 years now, knew they were mates for one year, and had spent that year courting. They had done nothing more but laid in his bed together, kissing and her hands slightly exploring at times while his roamed every inch of her frame like he was making a map.

He had never pushed her into sex, never asked for more than just her love and kisses, but he knew that small box under the tree would change everything. She had wanted to wait for marriage, a tradition drilled into her head through years of beatings from her step mother and Father.

And now, in just 12 short hours, after his Mother, Azriel, and Cassian left for the party being thrown in the Mead Hall, Rhysand would be asking her for her hand.

He placed a few soft kisses along her neck, smiling as she snuggled in closer to him with a small twitch of her lips. Just a few more hours, he told himself.

Solstice morning was filled with laughter and joy. The males having partook in yet another snowball fight as Rhiannon spent the morning in the kitchen helping with what little she could without triggering a mating frenzy.

She, Azriel, and Cassian had exchanged their homemade gifts without the presence of the High Lord's family, the three of them tucked into the boy's room as they exchanged homemade treats. They all couldn't afford much, so these small things had become their tradition. Something they could gather ingredients and supplies for a fairly cheap and make with love and effort.

They did the same for Rhysand's family, showing their gratitude for his mother's choice to pull the three of them into their home. Azriel and Cassian traded gifts with Rhysand while Rhiannon had to wait.

Anxiousness Had set into the pit of her stomach as she got dressed this morning. Rhysand's mother had taken gentle care, braiding her long dark hair, making sure her nails were trimmed and clean, that her hands were oiled and moisturized.

She had ensured Rhiannon had been gifted a fine set of oils and lotions along with a pretty lacy outfit she had hand made for “when the time felt right.”

The evening came quickly, prompting Cassian, Azriel, and Rhysand's mother to leave the cabin, heading to the Mead Hall for celebrations and leaving the two mates completely alone.

Rhys had her between his legs, Tucked into his chest tight and placing small kisses along her temple and hairline. “I'm sorry I'm keeping you away from the camp party,” Rhys tilted her head up. “I just wanted time alone with you.”

Rhiannon smiled softly. “If you think I'd rather spend a single moment in that hall with those males, you truly underestimate my love for you.”

“I thought we could talk about that,” Rhysand began softly. “About love and us.” Rhys sat her up, hiding the small black box behind him. “You know I love you, right?”

The falling look on her face had Rhysand back pedaling Watching in horror as she moved away from him and sat down in the opposite couch.

He moved to her instantly, grabbing her soft small hands. “I already fucked that up,” he muttered taking a deep breath. “What I mean is, I do love you, and I hope I have made that clear and obvious.”

He took a deep breath, pausing to kiss her left hand. “I have loved you long before the Bond snapped, and I would love you regardless of it being in place. From the moment Azriel carried you in the doorway begging mother for help, I felt drawn to you.”

Another long pause came as he kissed each knuckle on her hand. “I knew I loved you the moment you took down a male, not knowing he was one of Devlon's bastard Sons and beat the shit out of him for grabbing you. I knew I loved you when I pulled you off of him and went back to fight. I knew I loved you as you sat holding Ice to your lip getting lectured by mother and simply said, “let the camp lord know I'll do it again.” I knew I loved you because of your spark, your fight.”

Rhiannon looked away, hiding her amusement. “So you knew You loved me when it turned out I was violent.”

“You are a violent, murderous, little creature,” Rhysand purred softly, trying to hide the lust in his tone. “And I stupidly love every single ounce of it. I love your eyes when you see something that makes you happy. I love how you pout when I don't give you whatever you want-”

“I do not pout,” Rhys smirked at her, thumb going to her pouty bottom lip.

“Oh yes you do, Darling.” He kissed her gently. “I want to spend my life with you. Learning all the other things I can love. Growing to love the things I already do more.”

Before Rhiannon could respond and process what was happening, Rhys was on one knee before her, an open ring box in hand. “It would be a long engagement, Rhiannon Darling, but will you marry me?”

All she could do was nod, crying as she threw herself Into his arms, holding him tight. “I presume that is a yes?”

Rhiannon nodded before pulling him to her and kissing him deeply. It did not take long for that kiss to become more passionate. Rhys was on top of her in an instant, resting between her legs as they wrapped around his waist, hairs tangling into her long dark hair.

Her own hands found the buttons of his shirt, undoing them quickly and pushing it down his shoulders. Once the material was no longer there, Rhiannon began to run her hands over every exposed piece of skin. Nails and fingertips gently brushing some areas while other areas were squeezed.

The second those legs, those damned legs, wrapped around his waist, Rhys knew her intentions. He pulled apart from her, almost chuckled as she whined softly, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” her voice was breathy as she tried to get him closer, nodding eagerly in confirmation.

Rhys got off the couch, lifting her With him as he did and carried her to her room. “I refuse to let your first time be on a couch instead of a bed,” he laid her down, smiling ferally as he did.

It was teasingly slow, removing her from her clothing, smiling as she laid Naked below him, dark hair spread out around her head like a halo. “So beautiful, darling.” Rhys placed soft kisses along her jawline, whispering to her as his fingers trailed every curve.

Her skin was on fire from every pass, every gentle caress, every touch she'd never experienced before. The second his tongue flicked Her nipple, a whine she'd never heard from herself tumbled from plush parted lips. “So sensitive,” Rhys muttered before licking and sucking her breast while his hand played with the other one. Once he was satisfied, he freed her nipple with a soft pop Before switching sides.

Rhiannons' back arched more cries falling from her lips as her hands tangled in his soft hair. “Please,” she whimpered, thighs clenching together as wetness and heat pooled between them. “Rhysand, please.”

He tutted her softly, mouth returning to hers. “You'll take what I give you, when I give it to you,” another harsher kiss had her whimpering. “Understood, darling?”

“Yes, husband,” the word spurred something primal in Rhysand. Eyes going dark with lust and need.

Since that bond had snapped, all he had wanted was to be hers, for her to be his in return, and now he was taking it. He was stealing this opportunity. Rhys kissed down her body again, growling when he finally hit her core. “So fucking pretty.”

He gave her no warning, diving into her cunt like a man starved. Rhiannon quickly became a mess of moans and cries. The foreign feeling he was bringing her was unmatched to anything she had made herself feel before.

She knew Rhysand was a talented lover, having laid in bed late at night hearing him with the few females he would bring home before they had gotten together, before the Bond snapped, but this was unimaginable.

It was messy. Tongue spreading and taking slick as he lapped at her entrance and clit.

It was hot. Sweat forming on both of their bodies as the room grew warmer and warmer, as panting took the place of stable breaths.

It was raw passion. Each lick, nudge, moan a measurement moment. Each tightening of her core, of her stomach twisting causing more drive as she pushed it down the bond to him.

It took minutes that felt like seconds for her to fall apart on his tongue, that coil snapping as she screamed his name and stars took place of her vision.

Rhys kissed her clit before moving back up her body, hand replacing his tongue and fingers running through her folds. “You taste divine,” his lips found hers, tongue going into her mouth to share his new favorite wine with her. “I could spend days between your beautiful thighs, Rhiannon.”

He was distracting her, praising Her with soft kisses and words. When he finally felt his finger was wet enough, he slowly pushed it in, watching her face as her breath hitched and eyes rolled back.

“Relax, little mate,” he whispered. “I have you.” He moved agonizingly slow, forehead resting On hers as her breathing picked up again. He smiled as her walls relaxed, Welcoming his finger deeper into her warmth. “There we go. Doing such a good job, darling.”

Rhiannon had her eyes locked shut, mouth opened to a soft o as she felt that coil begin to wind itself up again. She could feel Rhysand's eyes on her, his spare hand tracing her cheekbone As a second finger entered her, stretching her out more to prepare her for him.

Rhys seemed to be on a mission. His fingers were curling, scissoring, searching. It was obvious when he found what he was looking for. He watched as his mate took a deep breath, back arched again, and then a Loud moan of his name fell from swollen lips. He felt his stomach stirring with male pride as he Began to aim over and over for that same spot, feeling wave after wave of her arousal and pleasure shooting down the bond.

He had her pulled apart within seconds again. The pride of it all shot straight to his ego.

His beautiful little mate.

Folding for him Over and over again.

Rhys kissed her deeply, deciding she was ready and pulled his fingers out. “Last Chance to tell me to stop, Rhiannon.” Rhys' forehead found hers again, going into her mind to find any doubt. Instead he found love, contentment, need, lust. Her thoughts were clouded and occupied by him. His scent, his intelligence, his voice. His own clothes were long forgotten, slick soaked hand moving to coat himself before lining up with her. “Tell me it hurts and we stop.” She nodded, hands going to his biceps as her hazel eyes met his.

Rhys pushed in slowly, watching her like a hawk. Her nails dug into his arms, almost spurring him on As she whimpered softly underneath him. He stopped as she tensed up, gently stroking her hair, “You have to relax, baby. I don't want to hurt you.” Rhiannon, done with teasing and wanting this part over With, wrapped her legs Around his waist, forcing him in deeper with a gasp. Rhys growled, burying his head into her neck as his self control slowly began to disappear. He pushed in the rest of the way, groaning as her soft walls hugged him.

They sat like that for a few seconds, allowing her to relax further, to adapt to the intrusion. “Rhys, please,” she begged. “Gods please move.” He was lost in the haze of her, pulling out slowly before pushing back in and setting a soft rhythm. Their hands found each other, fingers lacing together as he made love to her, hitting that perfect spot every time he reentered her body. “I love you,” he whispered and smiled as she said it back.

“Faster,” she panted. Rhys felt his smile go feral. His speed picked up, watching as her breasts bounced. His free hand found her hip, squeezing the side of her ass as he took her.

Their joint pleasure was building quickly as they freely sent it to each other down the bond. Rhys could feel himself nearing that edge and brought his fingers to her clit. “Need you to cum, Rhi,” he almost begged her for it. His Fingers began to circle that bud, watching through heavy eyes as she began chanting his name over and over again, walls fluttering and clenching around him. “Need to feel you fall apart on my cock, little wife.”

That word.

That precious word.

The word that made this all okay in her mind was her undoing.

The idea of being his wife. His mate. His everything.

She shattered around him, crying for him and screaming his name as she came. She saw the heavens behind her eyes as she pulled him closer, mind lost in the feeling of him, the smell of him, the need for him.

Rhys tumbled over the edge seconds later, moaning her name loudly as did.

The room that had previously echoed with the sound of her slick, skin making contact, of their moans was now silent. Breathing the only thing indicating life was still there. Rhys pulled Out of her slowly, picking her up the second he was stable on his own feet and carrying her to the bathroom.

He bathed her as she slept in his arms, his own mind still processing that this had finally happened.

She woke up the next morning, ring on her finger to the sound of Cassian egging on a fight. Rolling her eyes, Rhiannon left her bed, Walking to the kitchen and joining Rhysand's mother at the table for coffee. “How long?” She asked.

Amara looked at Rhys and Azriel, watching as the shadowsinger landed another punch. “About 10 minutes. Should be done soon. Let's talk wedding dresses.”

Rhiannon smiled, leaning her head on Amara’s shoulder. “Happy solstice, mom.”

“Happy solstice, Rhi.”

[sunstream7]

Bite Mark in the Shape of the Sunflower State- 2

>1000 words

Alternative title- dialogue beats me with a hammer for a thousand words. and stars too ig?

Stars, stars, stars.

Who would've thought that in the modern era, no store sold glow in the dark stars?  Bookstores, department stores, even the local hobby shop. Absolutely nothing. Maybe the weird little fortune shop? If nothing else, a grifter might be selling knick knacks. 

The storefront was surprisingly bright and open, a far cry from the usual snake oil shops. And surprisingly few rocks. But most importantly, fully unattended. Wandering the aisles, Chiara took in the various Tchotchkes, trinkets, and occasional self help book (50% off, nice! Not that she’d buy it)

“Do you wanna change your luck?”

What.

The.

Fuck.

Chiara whipped around, and scanned the store, her eyes landed on the front counter, and on the, no longer empty, chair. Instead, there sat a child. For a few seconds, she thought it could be Del. They had the same pigtails and vaguely remembered yellow hair ties. Not enough freckles though. 

“Excuse me?”

“Do you wanna change your luck?”

The grin on the kid’s face was slightly endearing. Where were her parents though. Or any adult supervision? Chiara recalled spending many an afternoon when she and Cy would sit behind the counter of that bookstore, working on homework or people watching through the front windows. Cypress’ mom was always in a back room or somewhere in the aisles. That was probably the case here.

She had never been a spiritual type of gal. It just never really attracted her. She could understand the novelty of a palm reading or the allure of fate, but nothing ever seemed worth putting any thought into.

Then again, It had been a pretty shitty two months. And maybe a little stroke of luck would get her those glow in the dark stars. 

“Mm- Sure, kid. I would.”

The girl shot up in her seat, beaming as she leaned over the counter.

“Okay, five dollars please.”

Ah. About what she expected. It’s whatever. Rummaging through her wallet, Chiara finally asked the question that every storefront in a three block radius had heard that day.

“Do you guys have the little plastic glow stars?”

The girl pointed towards a shelf near the front- stickers, decals, and various other stationary. Not to imply that correlation equals causation, but that was pretty lucky. Leaving the five dollar bill on the counter, Chiara crossed the store and grabbed a pack. Perfect. 150 pieces! Even better!

As the kid finished ringing her up, Chiara turned to leave, only to be stopped by another question.

“You go to Saint Sara Belle.”

Was she about to get murdered? She wasn't in uniform, and had been in this city for eight whole days! How did this kid know who she was?!

“I do?”

“Cool! My name’s Cala”

If she answered, would her soul be bound in a pact with an archfey? Eh. Whatever. 

“Chiara. Nice to meet you”

A second attempt at leaving, once again thwarted.

“You’re nicer than the other girl that came in here, in your group. She’s mean.”

What, And she could not stress this enough, the fuck. That didn't narrow it down at all! There's two others! And they both seemed… alright. Well, as alright as someone in the problem child club could be, but still! How did she know about her?! Which of those cretins has been going around talking about her?!

“...Thanks? I think?”

And no reply. Slowly turning around, Chiara wasn’t interrupted again, and did her best to wave off the ‘see you again soon!’ as she slipped out the door, stars in hand.

What a weird kid. She knew of normal kid weirdness, having spent the greater part of a decade wrestling things out of Del’s mouth and hosing her off after tumbles in mud or dirt or any other thing she could get into, and she herself had been an awfully weird kid, but, to her knowledge, there were no psychic abilities in her family.

Yknow. If Cala could actually play with the strings of fate, more power to her. And if she couldn't, that was a REMARKABLY impressive grift.

Chiara opted to finish her little loop, exploring a whole new row of shops. The usual corner stores, an accessory shop, and most notably, a bakery. Pausing outside for a moment, she settled on heading inside. It had been the first school week of the year, at a brand new school in a brand new city. Del deserved a treat. She’d been taking this whole thing remarkably well- much better than expected. But a chocolate chip cookie wouldn't hurt.

What would hurt though, is seeing the bastard standing at the front counter, glaring like the painting he was looking at had personally killed his dog. 

Maybe she had changed her luck! and used it all up on some stars! Because how the fuck else was she supposed to explain being face to face with Pran?! Of all people?! You weren't even supposed to HAVE a job!! Can a bitch not just buy a chocolate chip cookie in peace?! 

No greeting, no customer service smile- which arguably would have been worse. The only reason she could tell her presence had been acknowledged was that his scowl wasn’t towards the painting, but her.

“Hi- uh… can i get a chocolate chip cookie?”

Nothing. At least he was consistent.

If the group meeting was bad, this was awful. Absolutely shooting daggers at her for an uncomfortably long time until someone else stepped in, and Pran all but sprinted into the back.

At least she got that godforsaken cookie. 

And she also got a request for another, because apparently, these were some of the best cookies Delilah had ever had. And could Chiara please take her to the bakery some time so they could try something else. 

Her luck definitely had changed. But somehow, in some near impossible way, it had gotten worse. 

At least the stars were up now, and she could have some nice scenery as she stewed on how much she hated this.

[hell-of-peccability]

pulling aus out of my ass #1:

> kuni(kida/haru) !!

okay. so. hear me out.

them. as the same person. for an au.

(for clarity's sake, I'm referring to all of the Saiki family by their first names. if you arent aware of them; Kusuo = Saiki K , Kusuke = Saiki's Brother , Kuniharu = Saiki's dad , Kurumi = Saiki's mom. I had to look up his parents names for this so I don't blame anyone.)

MY REASONING:

almost the same haircut??? definitely the same bangs. kunikida's hair would probably poof out the way kuniharu's does if he snipped off the rattail.

people's hair typically gets darker as they age (blond to brown)

people's facial structure typically rounds out a bit as they age as well

both wear rather similar glasses -- kunikida switching up his pair at some point would logically make sense.

kunikida to kuniharu. even if kunikida's first name is doppo, if this was some sort of "lets change my identity to blend in with normal society" he may keep "kuni" as a tribute to kunikida. (especially since 'kunikida' is the penname part of what the actual author went by, among other pennames)

it would make (some) sense for kusuo's dad to have some form of ability, as would result in his psychic-ness.

taste in women;

kurumi definitely looks similar to sasaki (which can be interpreted as probably kunikida's ideal woman), kuni(kida/haru) would probably find kurumi attractive, "Kurumi is a kind and gentle mother [...] She is also very trusting of and never doubts other people. However, when driven pushed her limits, Kurumi becomes scary and hunts down anyone who threaten her family. She loves her family a great deal." (saiki k wiki) this description of someone WOULD probably be close to his ideal, as kurumi is pretty much the ideal mom in herself. I believe she's close enough to where kunikida (if he's actually into women & not secretly gay) would settle for, if not seek her out.

THE BLATANT PROBLEM:

Aside from, yk, this not being the same fandom, the biggest issue comes with Saiki Kuniharu's personality.

"Kuniharu is unreliable, reckless and slovenly, often begging with disgusting teary faces towards his son. He is a doormat who is always nice and respectful to people no matter how rude or scornful they are to him, such as his boss, who orders him to lick his shoes, and his father-in-law, who harbors a strong hatred towards him. On occasion, he can be self-serving." (saiki k wiki)

I think the best reason that can be given here, is it's dazai's fault. Dazai manages to successfully drive kunikida so insane that he flees not only the agency, but yokohama, going to hidari wakibara to escape.

Kuniharu could be Kunikida after his ideals are (mostly) shattered, and his personality snaps. He suddenly conforms to authority, loses his schedule, begs in the same way dazai always harassed him with, either as a mask to hide under, or because he was driven to become that.

or, in other words, Kunikida lost his shit (*cough* possibly due to the current & former manga arcs *cough*) and ran off to start a new life, without his notebook, his schedule, and the ideals he lived his life by.

OTHER AU DETAILS:

If Kunikida's ability relies on his notebook, it would be pretty easy for him to shove that thing in a drawer and pretend to be normal. Maybe it so far as kuni's mind was wiped, which would account for Kusuo never reading that in his mind. It's just gone.

Kusuo wouldn't necessarily be aware of ability users if they weren't in his mind-reading vicinity, as he doesn't seek out psychics but he is aware of what they are when he gets close to them. He may not be aware of Yokohama due to this. (if any of this is wrong, shut up.)

Kusuke (given his mega high iq) is probably known by some of the BSD cast (for instance, Ranpo or Dazai) and dislikes them for being like his shitty brother.

Kuni HAS to have at least once accidentally used his powers and thought Kusuo was fucking with him. Or better yet, has had that happen enough to where he's afraid of writing because Kusuo will fuck with him. Maybe he even makes Kusuo write things for him whilst eying him suspiciously. Kusuo has likely chalked all of those thoughts up to Kuni being an idiot, and hasn't thought any more of it.

TLDR:

kunikida is kuniharu because this is MY corner of the internet and I SAID SO.

fuck you im claiming this is my new au that i cradle close to my heart. we are ignoring all the basic reasons why this is impossible kunikida just shrunk to 5'9", and changed his birthday and blood type to spite YOU.

i,,,, may need to write something off this.

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Cater's Backstory - Monster AU

Monster: Gumiho/Kumiho (Korean folklore, similar to the Japanese Kitsune, shapeshifting abilities) Word Count: ~ 0.74K Relationships mentioned: The Diamond family (2 sisters, (eldest, Katryna, middle, Casey, hc names), mother, (Regina, hc name), father, (Cody)), Indescript People from the internet TW: Minor texting adults/Cater has a fake dating profile at 13, shitty sisters + mom, parents fighting, self esteem issues, family life vlogger, etc.

"OH FOR FUCKS SAKE REGINA, STOP MAKING HIM SHIFT FOR THE SAKE OF THE FUCKING THUMBNAIL OR WHATEVER YOU CALL IT, HE'S NOT A PROP!"

"YOU CUT OFF MY ALLOWANCE CODY, I HAD TO WOMAN UP AND MAKE MONEY SOMEHOW. I GREW THOSE LITTLE SHITS INSIDE OF ME AFTER YOU PUT EM IN ME, THE LEAST THEY CAN DO IS MAKE ME SOME MONEY!.....BESIDES, THIS WAY I DON'T HAVE TO RELY ON SOME DIRTY CHEATER'S CASH LIKE YOURS!" Cater could hear his parents going back and forth in the kitchen for maybe the third or fourth time this week, as it had been....the third or fourth time his mother had tried to shoot a baking video with him in it. His sisters segments had gone off without a hitch, apparently, but his mother kept stop and going when he was involved to make sure the way he looked was "perfect" according to her standards. He tried to block out the yells from the other room, his ears folding back against his head as he brought four of his nine tails to snuggle into, in front of him. While he wasn't a fan of the shooting process, or the way his mom made him shapeshift his face or body to fit her demands, he loved sitting with her once the video went up and watching as views and likes and comments would start pouring in. The feeling was....maybe the only good thing he got to have. Which is why he took it upon himself to find that feeling again whenever he felt upset. He sat up a little, looking for his phone as he used his tail to wipe at his eyes, sniffling a bit. It only took a moment to locate it, and once he had it, he opened it to the camera. He frowned a bit. It was too close to his face...to not be his face, but it wasn't his face. His nose was narrowed, his cheeks had been slimmed in, his eyes were upturned and a little bigger, his lips were slightly more plump than they were meant to be. He shook his head a little, wanting to start from scratch. It was always easier to shift starting from a familiar base. He took a deep breath before focusing on himself in the camera again. First, all he had to do was try to match how Katryna looked - even if their mom never knew, he certainly knew how many times she had snuck out of the house to sleepover at someone else's place. People wanted her. That's what made her a good base, and given that they were siblings, there wasn't all that much he had to change to match her. Once he was satisfied with his facial structure, he turned his hair longer than it was, just to his shoulders. He watched his ginger locks turn black, with a blue streak in it, and turned the colour of his eyes from green to blue to match his hair. He made his cheeks a little thinner and his nose more button-like. It wasn't like this was his first time. It only took him about a minute to come up with a face that wasn't his that he thought might be pretty enough, before taking several photos and choosing his favourites. He opened up the dating app on his phone that he had hidden in a locked file, under a different user profile. He knew his mom would loose it if she caught glimpse of it, thus the measures he took to hide it from her. It wasn't like he was supposed to have it in the first place....but thirteen was close enough to eighteen, right? Besides, the compliments he got- rather, his "character" got, made him feel happy. And this way, he controlled what was going on the internet, and how he interacted with people, and all without his mothers interference. It was perfect. He made a new account, posted the picture and a made up biography before starting to swipe right on every single person that came up. He didn't have to wait long for the compliments to file in, or the "its a match!" to fill his screen. He smiled to himself, before opening the most interesting opener and starting to chat, like he had done so many times before, ready and willing to do whatever it took to get that feeling.

---------------------------------------------------------- A/N: Hiya! If you made it here, you might want to check out my other Twstober works here, or if you're looking for some fluff after that fic, you can check out my main masterlist here. Ask box is open if you have any questions! Thanks for reading!

[h2llish]

we're starting my rambles with riddle, my love <3

there's a lot about riddle to unpack honestly. his mother was super controlling, and he was sheltered his whole life. he wasn't allowed friends, and he obviously didn't have much of an impactful male figure in his life. his parents don't seem to get along and that's me assuming his parents are even together anymore. and he also had to live up to a perfect expectation his mother put on him. like holy shit, that's a lot.

he doesn't know how to hold decent conversation, can't understand some social cues, and if you haven't noticed, he kind of struggles with maintaining friendships.

coming from someone whose been sheltered by a pretty controlling mother (and step-father, kinda), i can say i totally understand. while my mother didn't have a name to herself and she was a sahm (stay at home mom) so she never held many expectations, she still sheltered and controlled my siblings and i. for the longest time, like riddle, i hadn't realized that what my mother was doing wasn't right or normal. she prevented me from making decent relationships, ultimately ruining my social skills entirely and giving me enough insecurities to cover five(+) of me. i was fortunate enough to have my siblings to rely on, but it became unhealthy and none of us know how to handle real relationships/friendships when we're faced with them. even now, at 18, i remain under her control because of how sheltered i was growing up that the very thought of living without that control is terrifying.

now you take what i just told you about my controlling mother and you add that to riddle's life, you'll see just how shitty his childhood must've been. he didn't even know his mother was controlling until he overblots, he remained completely unaware of his trauma until the chaos of it built up into a meltdown. the only friendships he did have were forbidden when his mother learned he was interacting with other children, and with their leave so went his ability to learn proper, healthy, means of coping and social relationships.

and even after he became aware of the trauma of it all, he can't exactly change at the snap of a finger. he has to unlearn all the unhealthy aspects of what his mother taught him and learn more proper ways of dealing with anything.

and his temper? he probably learned that from his mother. you guys seen the way she acted when she learned her only son was making friends. it is very possible for a child to learn and take on qualities from their parents/guardians and he probably learned his anger from her. and to add to that, he never learned to properly cope with his own emotions under his mother's rule, so his anger is far more uncontrolled.

and i haven't even gotten to his insecurities and shit.

now im going to exclude his height here for obvious reasons (we all know how he is).

riddle probably fails to realize he even has insecurities. his trauma as a "golden" (only) child is enough to cloud the part of your brain that recognizes when you are feeling insecure. he still has so much to learn about himself, and that includes the insecurities that come with his childhood.

insecurities are actually pretty difficult to touch with him as it could be a number of things, and this is all guesswork, assumptions, observations; you can't know for sure. but i'm going to say what i think.

he's relearning everything from new, so i imagine that must make him a little insecure. to live under your mother's rule and then have a complete breakdown over it? someone like him would absolutely be embarrassed if they had to unlearn everything their mother taught them just so they could learn more healthy topics and methods.

he has a fear of failure; absolutely no one can say otherwise because it is so obvious. before his overblot, the stress of continuing to live up to the expectations his mother gave him was a weigh down and added to his blot build up. and after his overblot, he can't exactly break from that mentality. regardless of how much he may try or how much help someone may give, that sort of mentality that's been added to and built on for years cannot be easily broken. it's been shaped so much it might as well be comparable to a full concrete fortress of, "must pass this", "not good enough", and "she'll be disappointed".

he fears disappointment from other people. now listen, i know this one might seem far-fetched. he was and still sort of is dedicated to pleasing his mother, and absolutely sucks at forming decent relationships with other people because of poor social skills. but he is the housewarden of heartslabyul. he has definitely placed expectations on himself that he believes should be met and if they aren't he fears he's let down everyone in the dorm. what good of a queen is he if he can't live up to the quotas and expectations, he's set for himself? if he can't meet every rule? if he does not keep his dorm in the position of best?

he has the nagging insecurity and overall fear of never being good enough. whether that be with his mother, his friends, or future partners. he fears he will never meet someone's expectations and fail to be good enough for them. and this leads to my next statement, loneliness. his only friends were forbidden from him, and he's had no one but his mother until nrc. but even then, no one has been that close to him except try and che'nya so i imagine he must get lonely. and after his overblot, i assume that loneliness must have reached a suffocating point now that he knows about how wrong his mother's behavior was.

now to end this ramble and listen to me on this one ━ he's insecure. that's it. he's insecure about himself, his height, his trauma; everything. he's insecure.

overall, there is just so much to him and i just think people need to think about that when they refer to riddle. he's not just his anger and obsessive need for perfection; he's someone still learning his trauma and trying to better himself.

[basedkikuenjoyer]

If we're just gonna talk trans manga for a bit might as well show a little love to two shorter series that hold a special place in my heart. For being good. Just that, no frills they're just good and have something honest to say beyond the normal "be your true self" narrative. Because who gives a shit about trans folk after the fun part right? A big reason I love Kiku's story in One Piece is being a rare subversion...but even then she's only really like, the next steps after that phase.

Today's example, Kanojo ni Naru hi (lit. "The Day He Became She") goes way further. And it does so by using a light sci-fi touch to great effect. In this world, we handwaved the mechanical part of transitioning by just having it be something that can spontaneously happen to any male. The phenomenon is called "Emergence," it's compared to Clownfish, completely perfect and our protagonist Nao is a rarity for it happening as a teenager. Through that lens, we have a world where it's mostly normalized. Weirdly enough, we do also seem to have like, what we think of as "trans" in modern day alongside that. One of our recurring characters you could call an Otokonoko, they do mention "sex change" procedures...Emergence is a layer on top of our world. Which makes this straddle the line between part tale of someone all this comes easier to but also the crux of sci-fi, the world we're headed towards.

And this is a good example of how the sci-fi element works. Emergence still takes a toll on the body so our heroine here like, lags a few years behind as a result of transitioning. She's also a late bloomer as a high schooler. She wasn't asleep she was in a legit cocoon-type thing, so the bigotry is all bug-themed which is a pretty clever inversion of normal butterfly motifs. I always lose it at the friend who calls Nao "Mothra" as a lark. It's a lighter touch than it sounds, nice stand-in for going away for a while or having a rocky, reclusive period. But that was after the actual Emergence; sorta like Senpai is an Otokonoko the author had a one-volume idea that expanded to four. We start with it spontaneously happening and a high school drama with her childhood friend Miyoshi.

But this works so well and really shows the brilliance in the rear view. When you have what the story becomes...it really shows how Nao was originally going through a distinct phase. One a lot of trans women, especially teens today, struggle with. Your ability to look the part isn't everything. And it can cause its own category of troubles when that outstrips your ability to cope with the changes. A theme that continues throughout the series, but it's important here Nao has a chance to go back and you're still living around the environment you grew up in. People are willing to give you a lot of grace and positive reinforcement. Senpai wa Otokonoko sorta tells the opposite story, how it isn't a bad thing to let someone experiment a little. Past that point of no return though? That's where the real game begins.

That's Nao with her Dad. I love this storyline. Well before Emergence, Nao's mother abandoned the family for another lover. This caused him to have a lot of issues with women, and as a high school boy he was pretty shitty about serially dating girls and dumping them the second it got serious. Something that bites her in the ass a few ways as her and Miyoshi navigate being a college couple for most of the series. A big thing for her is that she looks like her mom now. For the record, Dad's just a workaholic that didn't even notice. His response was that Nao always had the same face either way and a totally different everything else.

But this is the magic. How everyone gets caught up in stupid misunderstandings and it's never something grand and dramatic. That's a story that deserves to be told, it already resonated with me a lot as a college student navigating my first relationship with a guy ten years ago. It does so much more now. Like...it's not hard to get why a newly out trans girl might hang around with a male-dominated hobby group she was already a part of for a bit. But this is a series that goes far enough to show you that type of pull coming up way later. How some little spark can trigger an old side of you, or even just...how hard it can be to rectify old traumas as a normal part of growing up when you feel like a completely different person than the one who experienced it.

Or maybe realizing there's more to this than you anticipated. When "Emergence" handwaves bigotry like acting as if HRT does nothing...that would have been useful. As someone who's always been at least kinda athletically inclined, who do you talk to about the sobering reality you got more than you bargained for there? No one wants to accept they're struggling with physical exertion that would have been nothing two years ago. Even the most open-minded girls don't want to hear about getting weaker from you and most guys just plain will not get how you didn't logically sit down and expect all of that from the jump. And you yourself don't even know if you're just being a defiant girl or a disappointed former guy about it.

I wouldn't expect someone fresh out of the closet to get all that subtext beneath a good romance manga, but Kanojo ni Naru hi hits that note in a way I have yet to find anything else that even comes close. What makes it work is that Nao and her sweetie Myoshi are cool people. Like here with a future in-law trying to expose Nao for being a bad wife. She filets a tuna like it's nothing and the house is spotless. It's very much a celebration on how this bizarre concoction of circumstances can create something beautiful.

Your only option for this one is fan translations, Lord knows I'd love an anime adaptation but that ain't happening. There is a sequel series, Kanojo ni Naru hi Another, that focuses on a younger emergee who is more resistant to the change. I can't relate fully because despite transitioning in the same time frame that only happened because I was well aware and accepted it about myself from an early age. If I lived in today's world without an abusive mom I'd be one of those cases that was well past socially transitioning pre-adolescence. But getting to know some teens today I feel like Nao is great representation for the type of trans girl who figures things out as a teen and maybe has to deal more with pressure to move forward outstripping the speed they personally come to terms with that. Especially if like, social transition comes surprisingly easy for you.

Watching one of the best case scenario teens I knew still hit that inflection point and "cocoon" stage on the cusp of adulthood was a real wake-up call to me that even in the best of circumstances this can be a weird journey with very little guidance. It's not wrong to take the easier path of showing someone dealing with baby steps or discrimination, but man did it make this series stand out for traveling the road not taken. And it makes Nao & Miyoshi's romance honestly just one of the best couples in any manga I've read.

[mathlann]

2, 7, and 16 for Ligeia

Thank you! From this ask meme! I'm gonna say here I am currently doing a Demon run for Ligeia which may overtake her previous canon so I'll answer for that reality. These are going to be long so I'll throw them under the cut.

2. How do they feel about Areelu Vorlesh?

Ligeia's feelings about Areelu would take multiple therapists months to unravel completely. As another dynamic entirely changed by the introduction of Ulbrig into my save file, were it not for the fact of Ligeia's very particular mom issues, Areelu would be sitting in the bin next to Iomedae and Nocticula as "people who can go kick rocks" as far as Ligeia is concerned. Because so far as Ligeia's hard line on hating being manipulated, she has to respect Areelu's game when it comes to spiting the Gods. They aren't enemies when it comes to that goal, but Ligeia is frustrated by the fact that in her drive to get her child back, Areelu is essentially doing to Ligeia what she complains about the Gods doing to mortals. But then she is drawn to Areelu, and Areelu is impressed by her and also is the only Sarkorian who actually seems to accept Ligeia, eventually (or perhaps, the soul-thing of her child that she sees in Ligeia). I am planning to ascend this run but I haven't seen the demon-specific interactions yet so that may change things. But also Ligeia probably would have ascended without Areelu except for that last bit about being okay with dying if Ligeia lives. Absolute hammer to her insides because Ligeia already had one mother die so she could reach a greater purpose and all so. Look, Areelu is a tall, dark-haired semi-demonic Sarkorian lady in want of a daughter, and Ligeia is a tall, dark-haired Sarkorian lady in want of a mother. So, they can figure out whatever weird relationship this is in the God-Realm but right now, get in loser, we're ascending.

7. Is your KC religious? If yes, which deity do they follow? If not, what is their view on religion?

Answered here!

16. If applicable, who did they romance and why? If no one, why?

Ligeia romanced Daeran and Wenduag, although how things resolve with Wenduag is still up in the air. Wenduag and Ligeia clicked more immediately, because Wenduag's general attitude is one that's familiar to her but that kind of fawning praise wasn't something that's ever really been directed her way. But the longer things go on, the more Ligeia second-guesses things because while the physical aspect of the relationship is strong, she doesn't really see herself as the person Wenduag seems to want. Ligeia is someone who's much more out for herself and doesn't particularly care about being stronger than others or leading on the basis of strength. So she can't really trust Wenduag fully because what happens if someone comes around who Wenduag thinks is stronger than her? On my first (Trickster) run they broke up over Dyra, not because Wenduag murdered her, but because Wenduag lied about it and tried to talk around like she didn't. But we'll see what the breaking point is this run, or if there even is one.

Daeran took more dancing around, but he's the one she eventually stays with. Ligeia was initially a little skittish about being too close to him, not because of any curse-related things (who in Ustalav doesn't have family tragedy and hauntings?) but because of the mundane fact that she did not trust his abilities enough to not burn her up. But once she got over that, they became fast friends first and foremost. On the lighter level, being their respective families' "shitty irreverent hedonist" gave them a lot to bond over between reminiscing about operas and planning theoretical grand feasts. In heavier subjects, being members of the "dead mom/demon trauma" club also helped her understand him past the prickly exterior. Generally, Daeran is one of the few people she feels she can be herself around without feeling judged because neither of them particularly wanted to be here, and he's incredibly loyal to her even though given her background, by all reason he shouldn't be. They keep each other in good spirits, even though that also made it somewhat harder for her to take him seriously as a potential partner at first. His insubordinate flirtation towards her was something she took to be another part of the friendly dynamic they set up, and she very much put her own feelings in a box once they started turning romantic. There are so many individually opposing aspects to their identities that the idea of anything serious between them kind of felt like another joke they were both supposed to be in on. It wasn't until the Abyss that she really acknowledged the shift between them and could accept he probably wasn't going to pull any last-minute gotchas on her. And once she had that assurance, she wasn't going to let it go. Not Sorry Liotr.

[elderemorune]

I'll See Ya When I See Ya

I've grown up, and I didn't even notice. It was such a gradual shift, from only caring about games, my friends, my girlfriend, and what cool new thing I was going to make next. I was trying a bunch of different forms of art to see what I could do, writing, painting, sculpting, none of it good, but I didn't care. I was a kid.

Before I even realized it, I was 30. Living in a house, trying to have kids, caring about politics despite promising I'd never care about them. I was so focused on growing, on becoming a better person, that I never stopped for a moment to consider what that meant, what parts of me I was leaving behind.

Then, despite my best efforts it was taken away from me. My sister and her husband needed room for their kids, and the state asked us very nicely if we'd consider leaving the house.

So we did, and here we are in Seattle, in a shitty apartment, doing shitty work while I put my wife through school, knowing that she's going to do amazing things when she graduates.

And other than her, only one goddamn person had the decency to thank me.

I guess this is growing up.

It's putting down your toys, not even knowing you'd never have time for them again. It's abandoning the carefree creativity of childhood and embracing a more structured approach to creation. It's your mom putting you down for the last time.

It's realizing your parents are humans too. It's understanding that one day, they'll be gone. It's considering how that will feel, thinking you're prepared, and of course, being wrong about that.

It's lamenting the fact that you're aging, that you're going to die.

It's worrying about taxes, what people think of you, and if you're going to make it to your next paycheck.

I miss being a kid. I mourn for my childhood, what could have been, what was. My heart breaks for the little boy sitting in his room and playing with his toys alone, scared of what will happen when his dad comes in and sees the mess. The little boy who didn't understand why nobody liked him. Whose peers found him annoying and pretentious when all he wanted to do was be friends with them. Who was hated by teachers and admin alike because he was 'too smart' but they couldn't figure out what to do with him, so they punished him.

All he ever wanted was to be loved. To be understood. It took a very long time to find the right people for that. I'm forever thankful to my wife and my best friends, because without them I would't be who I am now.

But it's so much more than that, too!

Growing up is also realizing that you're so much more than just a kid. Understanding that you have power, a voice, the ability to change things for the better. It's learning how to communicate with others, making new friends, reaching new heights!

Here I am, on the cusp of my next birthday, planning to go party for an evening because I've never done that. And that's growing up too. Experiencing new things just because, or making spontaneous plans. Meeting new people. Evolving as a human.

I don't know when I looked at my childhood self and said "See ya when I see ya", but I saw him today, and fuck did it hurt.

I guess this is growing up.

[ezekieltobiasfletcher]

Keep It Simple

The worst of my bout with COVID is over. Tomorrow will be two weeks since I noticed the uncomfortable tingle in my throat. Yesterday marks one week since I suffered the worst of it. I am on the mend, but some symptoms still linger. As much as I want them to go away, I need these remaining mild symptoms to linger a little while longer as a reminder. I need to be reminded of the promises I made to my higher power that I would take better care of myself. To sleep when I am tired, and not to use substinances, screens, and people to distract myself from the work and pains of living my life on life's terms. I need to be reminded of how honest I was with myself as I pleaded through prayer to survive this virus. I need to be reminded that I will not find my salvation in thinking about what I need to do. I will only save myself by focusing on my higher power and walking my talk. If I want things to be different, then I need to continue breaking from my old habits and coping mechanisms and act as-if, being different, everyday, one day at a time.

I had very little appetite while I was in the depths of COVID. For a few days, all I could tolerate was Lipton Noodles packets with some added rice. The first day I felt a little better, I knew I needed to consume calories, protein, and fiber to help my decimated digestion system. I decided to keep it simple, and made myself two eggs, scrambled in the pan, and two slices of wheat toast with butter. I also decided to nourish my soul by playing one of my favorite games with my mind. I call it, "look how lucky I am..."

I was raised by an early Boomer mother, born in the latter half of the 1940's. She was raised by parents who grew up during the depression, and she also spent a great deal of time with her maternal grandparents, who together with my maternal grandparents, all survived The Great Depression. The love and hardships that my mom was raised with gave her the ability to always find silver linings and to make do with what she had. I will write more about her someday, but for today, I just want you to know that I am very grateful for her and her simple, everyday values that bring me comfort when I need it most. My mother's spirit is part of the great amalgamation that is my "higher power".

As I was making my breakfast, I put on a YouTube Music playlist called: Depression Era, Golden Age of Radio. I remembered stories I was told about what it was like living through world wars, the 1918 flu, and the Great Depression. While preparing my meal, these memories of stories from my family made me thankful to have a stove, cookware, a toaster, sliced bread, butter, eggs, salt and pepper, and a warm home with indoor hot water plumbing to live in. By my grandparents and great grandparent's standards, I have everything I need to live a good and simple life. By simply having a job and a home in the United States, I am in the top 5% of the world. Look how lucky I am.

As horrible as COVID has been for me, it helped me get to bed earlier, I haven't had any marijuana in two weeks, I've limited my screen time, I removed all the social media apps from the home screen of my phone, I've logged off from work by 5:30pm each day, I'm being more intentional about my meals, and with not getting the munchies from the pot, I'm not snacking all the time like Scooby and Shaggy. And as shitty as being sick was, literal pun intended, I am back to my pre-COVID lockdown weight. So yeah... I'm letting this recent mental bottoming out affect me, and I'm getting out of my own way and drawing even closer to my higher power. Look how lucky I am to be alive and be able to change for the better.

For what it's worth, that meal of eggs, toast, and a small glass of orange juice, it was the most delicious fucking meal I have had in a long time. I never want to forget the depth of gratitude I felt on that morning; ever.

[nehswritesstuffs]

Baratie: Home to Chefs, Strays, and the Occasional Sword Goblin - Part 6

So, this chapter was previously attached to the prior one, but it was getting long for what I generally want for these, so now it’s two!

First chapter on [tumblr] - [FFN] - [AO3]

Prior chapter on [tumblr] - [FFN] - [AO3]

It’s Dry Goods Run Day. [3272 words]

It was finally Dry Goods Run Day.

Unlike the frequent deliveries of perishables and tide-overs that the Baratie received from whatever traders were willing to sail to them, it was fairly standard to use the day they needed to restock on the restaurant’s shelf-stable items as a day off for most of the crew. The chefs, kitchen help, and waitstaff alike all relished in their ability to fuck the fuck off to places unknown for the day, making it so that the only ones really working were Sanji, Patty, and Carne as they hand-picked their spices and flours and dried grains and whatnot.

“Zoro-oji! Zoro-oji! What’s that?!”

...oh, yeah, Zoro was technically working too.

“It’s a balloon,” he said flatly, looking in the direction Asido was pointing. They were in the middle of the port’s market, where the boy was staring wide-eyed at anything and everything they came across. “Haven’t you ever seen a balloon, kid?”

“Not really…” the boy muttered. His green-haired adult exhaled heavily and picked the boy up, allowing him to bury his face in his shoulder. The kid ran his moods more lopsidedly than his shitty uncle, which honestly said more than the swordsman wanted to admit.

“Would you like one?” he asked.

“…no…”

“Well, if you change your mind, you know all you need to do is ask, okay?”

Asido nodded into his shoulder and Zoro tried not to sigh. Here he was: one of the greatest swordsmen alive, to have ever lived. He was one of the Pirate King’s Wings, for fuck’s sake, only to be reduced to the shit-cook’s babysitter for the past week. Was it two? Three? He really didn’t know anymore. It wasn’t the kid’s fault that his uncle was literally one of the most annoying fucks to exist on the seas, but that was neither there nor here. Then again, it wasn’t even as though it was entirely the shit-cook’s fault he was in this position—there was plenty of blame to be spread amongst a disturbing amount of other people, and none of them were in the port nor on the ship.

“Is there anything you’d like?” he asked.

“Mom…” the boy croaked.

“Well, it’s just me, so we’re going to have to make do.”

“Okay…” Asido mumbled into Zoro’s neck, clinging to him desperately. “Do you know when Mom’s coming back? I really miss her.”

“I’m sure she misses you too,” he replied. Zoro saw other groups of people as he wandered around, including families with kids. A little girl—about the sprout’s age, he guessed—bounced up and down as she waited for her dads to finish acquiring snacks from a stall, and it sent a pang through him. Words long-said rattled around in his head, making him hug the boy in his arms just a bit tighter.

You want to know why I never went to Totto Land? Because instead of just defeating them, I would have murdered everyone for taking you away from me.

They had been words whispered in the cook’s ear, hot and heavy as he had made a pass in their last remaining moments in Wano. He had been pushed away then, a rejection that was loud and clear, starting the agonizing path that led to their falling out. Now, by some cruel twist of fate, he was holding a child that looked like Sanji, as though they had rescued him from Totto Land after Luffy became Pirate King instead of before their siege of Wano. It was a kid that very easily could have come out of the Charlotte honey trap, or possibly even that dancer woman from Dressrosa… or…

What would he have done, if the blond showed up on the doorstep, a child in his arms and an apology on his lips?

Fuck… he really didn’t want to think of that now.

Finding a vendor that sold dorayaki, Zoro bought his charge a snack, taking the portable nature of the treat to his advantage as he continued to wander around the port market. While he was not able to find the way out of the market, he eventually ran into Sanji, who seemed more amiable than usual.

“Alright Marimo, you’re relieved,” he said. He reached for Asido and the boy willingly allowed himself to be passed, clinging to his uncle’s brightly-patterned shirt tightly. Sanji bounced the boy slightly and pressed a kiss to his hair before turning back to his crewmate. “Follow the street down to the docks and you’ll find the supply boat.”

“Sure,” the mossman grunted. He ruffled the kid’s hair before sulking off, leaving the pair alone.

“I don’t know if I like islands,” Asido frowned. Sanji chuckled at that as he began to stroll idly through the market—of all the things to be genetic.

“I don’t like them too much either,” he admitted. “We grew up on boats and ships, with water always under us. Islands aren’t like that, and I think we can tell a lot easier than other people.”

“Yeah.” The boy settled into his uncle’s shoulder, the top of his head wedging in the crook of the man’s neck, before sniffling, “I want Mom.”

“I want to give her to you, but you know I don’t know when she’ll be back,” he said. A storefront then caught his eye and he patted the boy’s arm. “Hey, there’s a clothing store over there. Let’s go ahead and get you some new stuff like I said we would.”

“’Cause I’m gonna grow soon, right?”

“Yup.”

“Well, I hope I don’t grow too much, or Mom might not recognize me.”

Deciding to not touch that, Sanji took his nephew into the clothing store, glad when the prospect of curiously new things distracted Asido from his doldrums. They were able to find several new sets of clothes for the boy, as well as a couple jackets and pairs of shoes, some pajamas, slippers, and a bathrobe that was comically big on him.

“Can I get a robe like Zoro-oji?” Asido asked as he flapped the sleeves of his new bathrobe. Sanji peeled the garment off the lad and handed it to the clerk.

“That’s a special kind of robe—you’d have to ask him,” he replied. Asido then shrugged and bounced off to look at a display of girls’ clothes while the two adults sorted everything.

“He certainly is full of curiosity,” the clerk chuckled. Sanji rolled his eyes.

“He’s not used to dry land, so I’m just glad he’s distracted,” he admitted. “Oh, no, wait, not this one; I’m going to pretend you forgot to ring it when we’re two days out.”

“I’ll gladly play the villain if that’s the case,” the clerk said. They stashed the t-shirt with a Sora, Warrior of the Sea logo across the front out of sight and continued folding the rest. “Your son a fan of the comic?”

“Something like that.” Sanji checked on Asido from where he was standing and frowned. “Azuki bean, is this you telling me you want one?”

“No…” the boy replied from the dresses.

“Then why are you still over there?”

“I was thinking about if Merry might like these.” He picked one off the rack and held it high. “This one would look nice on Lea, but weird on Montie! Why is that?”

“We’re here to shop for you, not your cousins.”

“Uncle Saaaaaanjiiiiii…!”

“Look, don’t touch,” the blond warned. The clerk stifled a snicker as Asido and Sanji sported matching scowls.

“My apologies,” they smirked. “That’s a strong family resemblance.”

“Eh; my sister and I could have been twins,” Sanji shrugged. “Didn’t correct you, did I?”

“True.” The clerk nodded deftly before tallying up the total. Money was exchanged and they started to bag it up. “Pardon me for prying,” Sanji raised his visible eyebrow, “but you might want to consider taking a catalog with you. If you’re at sea often, then it might be too long between ports before his next growth spurt, and the next one you’re at might not have a shop like ours.”

“I… don’t know how long I’ll have him…”

“We deliver most items by News Coo, and the packaging is plain, in case any of it ends up being a present or some other surprise,” the clerk continued, unfazed. “Kids are hard, especially ones you didn’t plan on.”

“How…?”

“You just came in and bought enough to fill a child-sized closet; you might be a natural with him, but it’s clear you just got him in a weird way.” They finished packing the two bags and placed the receipt in one and a goods catalog in the other. “He looks happy interacting with you, if it helps. His parents put him in good hands.”

“You must see a lot of people if you’re able to glean all that.”

“I work at one of the few dedicated children’s clothing stores in the area—a lot barely covers it.” They offered a polite smile as Sanji took the bags. “My apologies, again.”

“Eh, whatever,” Sanji muttered. He then looked at Asido again, who was still staring at the dresses. “Azuki bean! We’re leaving! What do you say?”

“Thank you for taking care of us!” the boy beamed as he joined his uncle. He waved at the clerk as they walked out, then proceeded to hold Sanji’s hand as they wandered the market. “Where do you think we can find clothes like Zoro-oji?”

“Why do you want to dress like Zoro-oji?”

“Well, he’s gonna teach me swords, right? So I got to have swords clothes!”

Sanji almost stopped walking entirely in order to process his nephew’s logic. “You know, people who fight with swords can wear anything they want. There’s no uniform you have to wear.”

“Really…?”

“Yeah; now let’s get back to the boat and make sure everything’s been delivered.”

“Okay!”

It didn’t take long to get to the supply boat at the wharf, where there was the unusually relief-laden sight of the marimo stomping onto the craft while Patty and Carne took inventory of everything that had been dropped off by varying vendors from around the port.

“This is a lot of shit, kid,” Carne mentioned as he tapped a pallet of flour with the end of his pen. “Sure you aren’t going by how much you need to feed that captain of yours?”

“I’m sure, you limp-dicked half-rate,” Sanji huffed, no venom to his voice. He helped Asido into the boat before bringing the bags on, putting them down next to some other bags and boxes he didn’t recognize. “What the fuck’s this?”

“Errands for our actual boss,” Patty sniped. “Just because he’s out of commission doesn’t mean he can’t have needs, nor that we should ignore them.”

“The idea that he’s having you take care of things instead of me only tells me that the geezer’s up to something,” Sanji frowned. He decided to wait until they were back at the Baratie to address whatever the fuck was going on, instead taking the opportunity to double-check his wares. Once everything was triple-checked and on the boat, they set off, heading back to the restaurant. They made it well before dinnertime, with Zoro helping Asido bring aboard the stuff for him and Zeff while the chefs all unloaded the restaurant’s supplies.

Bringing the dried goods aboard and sorting them all in their proper places was always a hassle, but once it was done, Sanji felt a great sense of accomplishment. He breathed a sigh of relief and decided to make something a little more involved for his family for dinner… and the Moss too��� he guessed. An experimental curry, utilizing some spices he found on the island that caught his eye, though not too spicy so he could further gauge his nephew’s palate. He carefully made plenty of the stew and rice and left it in serving dishes, bringing everything up as such so that he could allow everyone to take what they wanted, while any leftover could be used as a staff snack the following day.

Opening the door to Zeff’s room with a gentle push of his hip, Sanji brought the meal into the room only to nearly drop it. There, he saw Asido sitting in one of the geezer’s armchairs, wrapped up in a blanket he could not remember while reading what looked like the fabled first collected volume of Sora, Warrior of the Sea. Zeff and Zoro were sitting at the table, both pains-in-his-ass stopping their conversation and looking at him nearly sheepishly as he stopped and stared.

“Oh! Uncle Sanji! Look what Grandpa Zeff got me!” Asido slid out of the chair and held up the book proudly. “It’s Sora! And a blanket! And some other stuffs!”

“Did he now…?” Sanji said, throwing a glare at his foster father. The old man refused to make eye contact, pretending that there was instead something vaguely interesting with his still-extant foot. “You can show me everything after dinner, alright?”

“Okay! Zoro-oji helped me unpack everything we bought today, so I can show you then!”

“He helped you unpack, eh?” Sanji asked, turning his attention to Zoro. The mosshead simply took his plate and began shoveling rice onto it, well-used to ignoring the death-stare the blond often threw him. “This is beginning to sound more and more like a couple someones might have broken rules while I was busy with dinner.”

“No big deal, twirls,” Zoro mumbled. “The kid’s allowed to be comfortable.”

“If you need me to say it, eggplant, the kid’s in what’s technically my house, and I say it’s fine,” Zeff mentioned. He saw as Asido was trying to fold his blanket on his own and chuckled. “We’ll take care of it later, azuki. Get over here and eat before your uncle has a coronary.”

“Okay!” the boy replied cheerily. He sat down at the table and stared at what Sanji was putting on his plate. “What’s that…?”

“Curry,” the blond replied.

“I thought curry is red and kinda soupy.”

“That’s how they like curries in the North—we’re not in the North Blue now,” Sanji explained. “This kind of curry style originated in a place called Wano, on the Grand Line. Zoro-oji and I went there a long time ago.”

“Okay, cool!” Asido took a giant chunk of potato and shoveled it in his mouth, only to spit it back onto the plate in tears. “Ow! Too hot!”

Sanji closed his eyes and tried not to grimace. Just… why…?

“At least you know he’s not picky,” Zeff chuckled. Sanji rolled his eyes and kept serving dinner—sure, he guessed.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

After dinner, Sanji went to go inspect his nephew’s room, finding that plenty had happened while he was occupied with cooking. The boy’s clothes were put away neatly, utilizing a level of organization that he did not think Asido or Mosshead were capable of coordinating. Books previously absent sat neatly in the bookshelf and some boxes sat in the corner, one suspiciously looking like flat-pack furniture.

“Old man said the kid needed a desk,” Zoro explained casually as he followed the blond in. “I’ll put it together tomorrow.”

“Can you even read the directions?” Sanji sniped.

“I’m not illiterate.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“Do you like my new books, Uncle Sanji?” Asido asked, reminding the men that the kid was still there. He looked at the now-full shelf, seeing that it was full of those damned Sora, Warrior of the Sea compilations. There were a few regular storybooks, but Sora was the bulk of the lot. “Mister Patty and Mister Carne helped Grandpa Zeff get the comics, and Zoro-oji got me the other ones!”

Sanji blinked. “He did…?”

“Yeah! And he got me these!” Asido dove into the corner of the closet and pulled out a pair of shinai, at which Sanji tried his best not to scowl. “He said that I need to be ready for when we start swords!”

“…which might be a while, remember?” Zoro replied, trying to cover up what was clearly supposed to be a secret. “Some people are never old enough to hold a weapon, let alone a sword.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I won’t!” the boy reasoned. “I can do flippy stuff and sword stuff!”

“Uh-huh, yeah, I’ll flip you right off the deck,” Sanji scoffed jokingly. He gave Asido a wink and the boy giggled. “Now go clean up your stuff in the geezer’s room, okay? You’re getting a bath tonight.”

“Zoro-oji doesn’t get baths!”

“Zoro-oji is also a barbarian, and we are not; now get going.” The two men watched the child dash from the room, giving them an opportunity alone. “You didn’t have to do any of this, mosshead.”

“I know.” He watched as Sanji took one of the books off the shelf and flipped through it. “That was, uh, the only one I actually remembered. The woman at the bookstore helped with the rest.”

“Of all things, ‘Noland the Liar’ is what you remembered?”

“Blame Usopp…?”

Sanji threw Zoro an unimpressed look. “You’re a goddamned moron, you know that?”

“I’m not the one who’s so wrapped up in his own trauma that he forgot that kids need stuff to do other than practice kicks and flips,” Zoro sniped.

“So getting him excited to become a potential new sword-moron is the answer?” Sanji hissed.

“I meant the books and you know it.”

“…and how did you come to that conclusion?”

“Kids like books…?”

“How would you know?!”

“I just do, alright?!”

“So you were into books? When you were a kid?”

“…no…”

“Then I’m not sure I want to know…” Sanji stopped when he saw Asido come back into the room with his new book and blanket, both of which he put on the bed. “That’s not where they go.”

“I wanna read more before bed!” the boy claimed. “I need my Reading Blanket to do that!”

“Okay, sure; say goodnight to Zoro-oji,” Sanji said quickly. Asido did and went over to the closet to pull out his new pajamas, giving his uncle just enough time to grit out a fake smile. “Good night, Marimo.”

“Night, Twirly-Brow.” Zoro shrugged in irritation before leaving, not really wanting to push the envelope with the kid right there. No sooner did he close the door behind him did Asido pop back at Sanji’s side, holding his pajamas high above his head.

“These?” the boy asked.

“If those are what you want, now come on.” Sanji attempted to lead his nephew into the bathroom, who was adamantly protesting, all the way down to kicking his feet once picked up. “You didn’t mind bathing before.”

“I don’t gotta take baths if Zoro-oji doesn’t!” the kid pouted. “It’s not fair!”

“Normal people bathe or shower regularly; if Zoro-oji wants to be gross and not bathe, then that’s on him. He’s an adult. You, however,” he sat Asido down on the toilet lid, “are still a kid. That means you’re still learning. Can’t break the rules unless you know them.”

“That’s dumb,” Asido scowled. “Baths are dumb.”

“Merry gets baths almost every day.”

“Zoro-oji says girls have to, though!”

Sanji shuddered at the very thought of Zoro having had a conversation with Asido about how much bathing is too much bathing. Fuck… gross…

“I shower every night, so don’t give me that nonsense,” he warned. “Now come on… you like lavender?” Asido nodded and Sanji began to draw the water, pouring in the bubble bath as the kid presumably got ready…

…only for him to turn around and find that he fled from the room.

Fucking hell.

[thisismenow3]

I feel like this site is good despite itself/management

As someone who lurked on tumblr for over a decade before being forced to create an account so I could follow more than the most recent posts of the people I follow on here, I joined this site in truth at a weird time. And something I’ve realized with the way stories of management almost tanking the site but being prevented from doing so on to the current situation is that tumblr and it’s staff and management are kind of like my mom. She’s remarkably progressive for a white woman in her 70s, genuinely, but at she can still be shitty. She supports all the rights to autonomy and protection for lgbtqia and women and non white people but refuses to change how she talks about things cause “people should just know I don’t mean anything bad by all the other stuff I say and do.” Like calling anyone with East Asian heritage ‘oriental’ or talking about how “it makes me so mad cause all lives matter,” despite me pointing out that by saying the last one she’s misunderstanding the point of Black Lives Matter ain’t to treat everyone well, it’s to have some decency and treat black lives like they matter as much as white lives to the system. There’s plenty more, like my mom deciding years ago to start taking her frustration at her life in her early 60s and the state of mine out on my disabled partner, has lighting her and refusing to ever acknowledge her repeated wrongdoings despite long periods of estrangement and reconnecting due to good behavior and my partner having a horrible family she had to cut ties with. But we’ve finally gotten to a good place where she treats my partner at least as good as the average mother in law (and sometimes better!)… but that’s more because her dementia is obvious now. But she remains a way better parent and person than any of my uncles and their wives, easily.

so in a weird way I’m seeing my ability to actually love my mom and my cousins who always left me hanging but now need some catharsis in the OG tumblr users talking about redditors and the tumblr staff/management. The company behind this site has many problems over the years, and it’s a cop out to say they are at all good now, but damn it if they ain’t somehow failing their way into running the site better than the people behind twitter and Reddit

[otter-chaos-violence]

Shifting

CW minors doing drugs, mentioned suicide attempt, bullet mention, suicide implications, swearing, implied self harm, nonsexual partial nudity, sex mention, blindfold, implied injury

Tatiana

---

I probably should not have taken that edible.

Moon also had an edible in, she was the one who gave them to me, and we just needed an escape route. Me so I didn’t die, her so she could get her mind off her mother being a piece of shit.

We went home a couple hours after I saw the hallucination and when I got home, I went to my room and looked at the torn curtains. God, I still remembered the sound. The sound of my escape from existence being foiled and hitting the ground. It helped to ground me, surprisingly, making me realize that when my mother had cut me down, it meant someone would notice. Someone would care. 

I was almost glad it had been prevented now, but at the time, I was heartbroken and didn’t talk to anyone for weeks afterward. Not my mother, not the staff at the psych ward, not my friends, I didn’t even speak in presentations.

I started writing on my WIP, and felt A Presence that left when I looked up. I wasn’t sure precisely what it was, but it felt familiar. It felt like me. I tried to follow it, but it got away and I sank to my knees in the middle of the hallway.

My mother came back an hour later and gave me a few chocolates, then said, “What’s wrong?”

“I- I feel… numb inside, like something’s gone in me,”

“Oh,”

She sat next to me and I lay on her shoulder as she rubbed my back and whispered, “Well, at least you’re talking about it. Good job!”

I opted to cry into her uniform and sobbed, “I just wanna feel normal for once,”

She lifted me, her cold skin soothing to the touch, and she took me to my room, then started singing a lullaby in a language I didn’t know, despite her having taught me the languages she spoke.

I succumbed to its lull, and fell asleep, and found her asleep outside my door when I woke up a few hours later, she hadn’t even changed out of her uniform.

She woke up after I crept by her and said, “Oh, did I fall asleep?”

“Sim, mamae,” I replied.

“Tá. Vou pra cama, tchauzinho, filha,”

And I could have sworn something hugged me. Not something malevolent, but kind.

—

When I went to school the next day, the girl who sat behind me in German kept throwing scraps of paper at me, and they had horrible words on them.

I eventually had enough and snapped, “Can you stop?”

The teacher told me to go after that, and looked at me sympathetically and, as she gave me the note, said, “Explain the situation to guidance, okay?”

I nodded and went down to guidance, and I felt the phantom hug again and broke down in the middle of the office. 

I went home after that.

I called Cami, and she sounded happy- despite the near, at times, emotionless voice- to hear from me… then started talking about the werewolf shit. That wasn’t a dream.

Shit.

I lay back on my bed and, quite frankly, I was too tired for this, so I just let her talk. Her voice was like a bell and I loved her.

And when she finished speaking, I updated her on my mental state and the hollowness inside, and told her about the bitch in German class.

“Wait. Which German class? Which period?”

“B3, German II,”

I could practically hear her squeal before squeaking, “We’ve got the same class!”

I smiled and, unsure of how to respond, steered the conversation away from that, and we started talking about boats, books, and breaking points in our ability to hold out in this shitty, shitty world.

And she suddenly started crying on the other end.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I- wings- wings wings wings owie-”

“YOU HAVE WINGS?”

My mom popped into the room and looked at me strangely, then told me she was going to work now, and not to expect her ‘til eight.

Now I could talk about the really fucked up shit.

Cami told me she’d been discharged an hour ago and could come over, and I agreed. 

She was at my house within twenty minutes after I gave her the address. Despite the fact there were bullet holes in her legs, she was still able to run in her wolf form, and did, and could walk somehow in her human form, although it greatly hurt her.

I let her in, and we went up to my room before she shifted back and flumped backwards on my bed. She had a bushy blue gray tail and I caught a hint of golden eyes, and she laughed, then covered her eyes before sitting up. I wasn’t sure why, though she did tell me when I asked, and blindfolded herself with a strip of fabric from her pocket to hug me. She didn’t take it off.

She brushed through her tail with a pet brush, then said, “So, wanna see the wings?”

I shrugged, and she said, “Just an fyi, I’m going to take of my shirt, so, please don’t react,”

She peeled it off to show a white crop top, and I saw bandages and scars, including an even line of scars that ran down her torso. 

Her eyes darted around the room, and she tapped her fingers against each other, like I sometimes did when I dissociated. 

She started crying into my shoulder and said, “I don’t know why I did them- I just wanted to feel what Hunt felt so I’d understand, and it was all for nothing, he still hates me- I miss him, I miss him so much,”

I let her cry and felt the phantom hug again, and I also started crying. The touch brought me to life, and that made me shake.

She stopped crying after a bit and hugged me tighter, and said, “What’s wrong?”

“I- the hollowness, it ended for a moment. I-”

I felt like this was all unnatural. Like I shouldn’t exist. Like I shouldn’t be real.

The phantom hug squeezed tighter, and I cried harder.

Cami’s growing wings twitched, and I asked if I could touch them.

She immediately responded with, “So you know how you’re not supposed to touch a bird’s wings?”

I shook my head, and she launched into a rant about how to properly care for birds, and something about bird sex and how petting a bird’s wings leads to them thinking you’re their mate.

Cami

----

As the moon rose a week later, I kept close to Tatiana, and she hugged me in reply as I gathered the pack. She didn’t look me in the eye for safety, which I didn’t mind. One less person I had to make some very forced, very painful eye contact with.

She leaned on my shoulder and a fox that was patterned like a tortie ran up to us, panicked. Her arm had little spikes on it. That hunter I’d turned, then.

She was being chased, and I quickly told everyone to stay away from this area.

I approached Hunter and told him to leave, and he held out his hand and said, “Truce?”

I growled at him, and he backed away. The fox went up to him and got on his foot, and I saw him relax.

And he didn’t have any weapons on him.

I approached and snarled, “Get out. If you’ve hurt her, you’re dead,”

In very broken fox-dialect, I asked the hunter if she was okay.

She replied, in even worse fox-dialect, “Yes. I is okays and he promise not hurt me,”

I smiled and turned back to Tatiana, who looked understandably confused.

And the fox bolted over to her and clawed her with the spiky arm.

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/otterfrost/751298007803297792/masterlist?source=share

If you want to be added to the taglist, just ask!

[pantiesandpamperssissypart2]

"Kevin. Come on. Mom said five minutes we have to be out the door to grandma's."

Katie felt a twinge of pity for her big bro as she saw his diaper peeking out from under his blankie. After all, she had been responsible for this. Well, not technically true, she reasoned. HE, the idiot, had been truly responsible. She had just pushed things in the direction they were destined to go. And that was only because her mom pushed her too far.

It'd been months ago now. The three of them had been at the breakfast table. Kevin was home from college, a senior at a good four-year school. Katie had dropped out of community college and was working as a waitress earning shit for money, though she had a decent Only Fans account going that brought in some good money. She showed her tits and ass and also insulted some losers who were into that sick shit.

Her mom was SO proud of her college boy. And spent the entire weekend ridiculing Katie and her life choices. What kind of loser drops out of community college? What kind of loser dates a guy like Brian down at the auto shop? What kind of loser gets tattoos? What kind of loser spends the weekends drinking and partying and coming home wasted? WHY couldn't she be like her brother Kevin, the goody two shoes?

Finally, well, Katie couldn't take it and sort of snapped and revealed a secret she'd known about for three years now and never acted on but, jeez, push a girl far enough and ....

"Yeah, well at least I don't want to suck cocks while wearing shitty fucking Pampers."

Kevin nearly choked on his bacon and her mom nearly passed out. Woops. Her mom looked at a blushing Kevin staring wide eyed at his sister and that was all the confirmation she needed. See, years earlier Katie had used her brother's laptop and he'd forgotten to close some tabs and, whoa! What a freak? She downloaded everything for safe keeping, screenshots and such, but at first didn't care what her brother did. Whatever gets you off. And she knew men were fucked-up creatures. But she was NOT going to listen to what a star he was when she knew the fucking truth about his diapered pansy ass.

What she didn't expect and couldn't predict was that the sissy would have some type of mental breakdown, right then and there and going forward. Yep, something just snapped in him and he lost the ability to function as a normal college student. He admitted his perverted sins to his mom who was aghast and he ran off to college but dropped out shortly after not long before graduation. He seemed to mentally regress knowing his secret was out. His mom got him psychiatric help but then he physically fell apart too and started having actual accidents. Some weirdo shrink suggested he needed to transition to be the real him and also that diapers were apparently inextricably linked to his psyche.

So...here's what you get. A mom and medical community trying to rebuild a sissy faggot who needs Pampers. He was feminized now, always diapered, a joke to much of the town. And now he was going to go meet his grandma as the new him. His doctor said it was part of the therapy, to meet and face all his family. Eventually it would be good if Kevin could rejoin the dating world too and find a nice man who would take care of him.

Katie took in the diapered ass of her bro--sister?--one more time and snickered as he stirred. She went up to him and gently patted his diapered rump. She often changed him now and giggled every time as she saw his appendage gradually shriveling up. This was him now. She didn't look so bad now in her mom's eyes, especially now that she'd been promoted to manager at the restaurant and had dumped the loser boyfriend. She still had her issues of course. But when you're NOT a diapered imbecilic feminized fairy, well, you're sort of a star.

[idontknowwhatiwantworld]

Can There Be Both Destiny and Free Will? If Not, Which Do You Believe to Be True?

 

  This question has me stumped! I've been coming back to it every other day to try to answer it. I've decided to just write and see where it takes me. This is a tricky topic because I don't think there is a yes or no answer for me, which is exciting. There's so much to discuss.

  Destiny is defined as 'the events that will necessarily happen to a particular person or thing in the future' or 'the hidden power believed to control what will happen in the future; fate.' If those are the two definitions I get to choose from, I'd say I believe in the first one. I believe that humans need something to believe in, whether it's religion, astrology, family values, etc. It gives life a purpose and makes you want to do good things. Also, 'to a particular person or thing' makes me think about predator vs prey; some things just aren't meant to live very long. Predators need to hunt, and the prey are destined to be hunted. What I don't believe is that destiny is always to blame for why things happen; actions have consequences, and I don't think it was my destiny to end up in corporate banking or to end up in shitty relationships in the past. I have the free will to change those things in my life.

  Free will is defined as 'the power of acting without the constraint of necessity or fate; the ability to act at one's own discretion. I get extremely overwhelmed by free will; I believe in it more than I believe in destiny. The reason I find it so overwhelming is because for the past few years I have not acted on it. Truly if I wanted to today I could quit my job and move to another country. Would it be hard? Of course but it is possible, I could buy a one way ticket to anywhere in the world. I don’t need to work a 9-5, that’s what I choose to do with my free will because I love comfortability and consistency. I use to give myself the grace to dream and dream BIG. That has diminished over the years, but I know I will get it back at some point.

  I use to act on my free will more often when i was younger. I am fortunate enough to lead a privileged life in most aspects. I was born into a family that would be defined as poor; my mother lived off the government due to mental health issues. Despite this, my mom still did her best to give us a childhood that I'd say was good. Of course, my mom did things that had a lasting effect on me, but I don't think it was ever intentional; she loved us. We moved from apartment to apartment as we were dependent on section 8 for housing. I've probably lived in six different apartment complexes and went to seven different schools; my childhood lacked consistency (which is why consistency is so important to me now). Sometimes we'd have food, and sometimes we'd have to wait a week for the food stamps to come in before we could eat a proper meal. However, I always went to bed with food in my stomach, laid my head down on a pillow, under a roof. My mom always figured it out.

 One thing that triggered me from living with my mother was the state of our apartments. They were always messy; I'd say my mom had a slight hoarding issue. There was always just stuff all around, always trash everywhere. In order to take a shower, I'd have to climb over what felt like a mountain of clothes on the floor or step on razors, old shampoo bottles, dried up soap before I was able to reach the shower knob. My mother was always home, and she didn't have many friends. The ones she did have were not great. We also didn't have a car, it was hard to get around, we always had to depend on someone.

  I love my mother, but I did not want to end up like her. She wasn't my role model. I wanted a clean space, I wanted a job, and I wanted a car. So I made the choice to work. From the age of 16, I got my first job serving chicken. It was life-changing to finally have money. I got my driver's license and soon after got my first car. I graduated from high school, which was something I didn't think I was able to do. I worked two jobs and was able to move out by 20. Somehow, I ended up in banking and worked my way up. I make more money than my mom would know what to do with. That doesn't mean I don't still struggle I do, but that’s the beauty of free will, I can do anything that I want. I made the decision with my free will to do better. I knew I didn't want to live a life like the one I lived growing up. I wanted to be able to order pizza any day of the week!

  Now, I understand that some people are born into a life that doesn't give them these opportunities. I know there are deep traumas that lead you down a dark path. I am not blind to that. That's why I find this question so hard to answer. That is why I believe in destiny, every deserves a chance to hope for more or hope that there is more to life. My human experience is not the same as yours and it never will be. I do know that we make choices throughout our lives, and we have the power to make those choices because of our free will. I also believe some people are destined to be life's prey. Apologies if this post seems all over the place. I just always have a lot to say!

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