#so I was forced to quit because yeah I literally would have died

[marrow-bone]

Currently applying for disability rn because I have like, 6, and seriously can't work, but I want to be able to at least feed myself with the pittance that is disability 'benefits'.

It's been horrible. It's so hard. I have three different 'can't do paperwork' diseases, and yet this is a poorly-worded loop-de-loop of harsh redtape nonsense that requires original copies of things and everything done *exactly* to standard , on top of needing to prove to a non-disabled person that I'm suffering enough to need a tiny bit of help, and hoping that they're not a massive dick, because it's just one person I have to 'impress' through writing things correctly. Also there's a short time limit. And if I miss the time limit (given I haven't gotten a call back from my case worker; I will miss the time limit) my case is automatically rejected and then I have to wait months before I can try again.

All because, I guess, the government is scared that a handful of people will abuse the system and take precious hundreds of dollars that could have gone to the billions sent overseas to bomb children every year, instead.

I think that it's really important for people to realize that being disabled is traumatic. genuinely. your body and brain feel like they are breaking down and wrong. you are in constant heavy stress from stuff like chronic pain. most disabled people i know have a somewhat regular emotional break down from the trauma of it all. and we are expected to just smile through it by society, to not be in the way, to not be an issue.

[maxblonda]

swirls - maxlie

the older man groans in annoyance once he throws off the last layer of his stained costume, and it's then and there when charlie sees it: a ghastly pair of scars that adorn his sides like an ornate little joke the universe played on him. scars on a part of the body he can't even look at properly. it's like nothing she's ever seen before: a pair of large, atrophic scars that lightly kiss each other against the spine that rounds outwards at her when the magician bends down once more to reach for something else to wear.

such peculiar scars. marks that are simultaneously alluring and hard to look at. there's an inky black at their core that she can't tell is a consequence of the dim lighting or if these were strange aesthetic choice. a tattoo cover up job gone wrong... or something.

she wants to ask maxwell what happened to him that earned him those dark sunken marks, but something tells her that after fumbling the last performance and getting ink all over his nice suit that maxwell would not be inclined to answer. it doesn't even seem like something he'd want to answer had the performance gone perfectly and charlie had exceeded his expectations. even a great mood and a nice meal would not guarantee maxwell would share much about himself.

she sits at the vanity, staring down at the lines in the wood to keep from looking where she shouldn't have been in the first place. it seems like she has a knack for that kind of thing: poking around in places she shouldn't be and being given a reason to regret ever sticking her neck out. she can hear her sister nagging her in her mind, telling her how she should have been more careful and how sometimes its better to say nothing at all about a person's appearance if what you're going to say isn't something someone can fix in five seconds.

there's also the fact that there's no way maxwell would have ever exposed any part of his body beyond the wrist if it wasn't for the urgency required to keep the ink from soaking through more than just the first layer of his clothes, and there's no way charlie would have been there to see it if it wasn't for her insistance on following him as he left the stage to apologize profusely. those suits don't come cheap.

it's quiet in the dressing room. usually she fills the air with whatever words she can, turning around occasionally as she puts her makeup on to check if the silence means maxwell is thinking or laughing quietly. but this time around, she knows not to say anything. staring at the wood grain until the darker lines begin to swirl into the lighter ones. and to think about it, she could have sworn the longer she looked at his scars, the darkness within them had began to swirl too.

[johndonneswife]

not a sad ‘woe is me’ post so don’t send me weird messages but: the thing abt cycling through every ED possible and being bulimic for like 10 yrs & making yourself vomit up to 10x times per day on ur worst days is that your teeth and gums will eventually give out on you (bc it doesn’t make a difference if you’ve been good & it doesn’t matter how well you’ve taken care of your teeth for the last x years) and u will be 30 years old crying to your very sweet and kind dentist when she tells you about the 1 million things that are wrong with ur teeth

[dilfsfordinner]

a/n- i might have severe baby fever, idk.

pairing- husband toji x fem!reader

——————————————————————————

Contrary to his name literally meaning “blessing”, Megumi was nothing short of a curse during bath time. He absolutely hated it, and he made it his tiny life’s mission to make sure his parents dreaded it as well.

“Megs, please just.. work with me here,” Toji pleaded, exhaustion brewing inside of him, his hands desperately trying to keep the squirming child before him tame.

You’d gone to run some errands, leaving Toji to attempt bath time alone, his previous confidence shriveling into nothingness the second he heard little Megumi cry as soon as he was dunked into the warm water. At three months old, he was the perfect child, quiet and happy, tame in every aspect of life, a fact that seemed to be nothing but false when Toji was the one left in charge of watching him.

Toji didn’t even think it possible for something to cry as much as Megumi did without passing out, but he had been proven wrong before, the wriggling thing in his hands wailing his heart out to try and convince his dad to let him out. “I’m sorry baby, but you did this to yourself,” he huffed, gently rubbing bubbles along his son’s belly, tiny feet kicking water up at him, Megumi clearly trying to escape the horror of his nightly bath.

You see, Toji would feel bad for his baby had he not been the cause for the bath in the first place, the mashed carrots he had for dinner ending up smeared down his face and front, far from the target of his mouth. Said carrots began to fade away from the whimpering Megumi’s skin, turning the water into a soapy orange. His little body fit perfectly in Toji’s large hands, the newborn scrunch still apparent as baby Megs’ legs squished up to his belly in a useless attempt at kicking his dad’s fingers away.

The crying problem only escalated as soon as Toji introduced a washcloth into the picture, Megumi squealing, kicking and writhing with so much force, he might as well have been a full-grown adult.

Without your seemingly ‘all-knowing’ insight when it came to parenting, Toji rushed to find his own solution, grabbing a used bottle of soap that appeared to be extremely bubbly, hurriedly pumping out the liquid into the water filled basin, praying that the mysterious substance would somehow, someway, quell the curse possessing his son.

It was almost as if Megumi was hypnotized or something, because the instant the familiar smell of his mother hit his nose, his screaming cries died down to nothing but little babbles, coos leaving him in a low, comfortable purr. You see, it wasn’t just any old soap bottle. No, it was the soap you had used to bathe Megs the night after you’d come home from the hospital after giving birth. Toji remembered just how surreal and peaceful the night was, so he could understand why the familiar scent would coax his baby into a severe bout of relaxation.

Finally quitting his incessant wriggling, Megumi relaxed in Toji’s hold, the smell of the soap slowly coaxing him into a sleepy state, his little nose wrinkling and eyelids occasionally fluttering open and closed. Toji hadn't noticed before but his tiny fingers began to wrap around his pinky finger, holding onto it in a playful manner.

“hm-” Toji hummed, finally understanding the cause of his son’s untamable mood. “You just miss mama, huh?” he murmured, gentle as he picked up a sponge, running the soft material along the cooing baby’s chest and belly, sudsing up his little body, taking advantage of the sleepy mood that seemed to come over the boy.

“Yeah.. me too,” was all Toji could think to say, honestly relating to the fit his son had thrown over missing his mother, Toji feeling the same way but without the screaming and crying to show it. Finishing his gentle cleansing, Toji leaned down to press a kiss on the sleepy Megumi’s forehead. "Let’s get you to bed," he whispered, hand cupping some water to rinse him with before he gently lifted him to his chest, head resting against his shoulder.

It was a breeze the rest of the night, Toji falling victim to sleep as well, he and Megumi alike in a sense that they both enjoyed resting more than anything. The couch was the chosen spot, Toji lying shirtless against the large piece of furniture, Megumi’s blue, fuzzy onesie warm against his chest as they dozed off, a large hand resting against the tiny baby’s back, holding him safe and sound even while unconscious.

He couldn’t explain it, but being alone with his child, his baby, kindled a feeling of comfortability, of pure contentment, in his chest, he knew that no matter how untamable or stubborn or confusing Megumi could be at times, he would always be his son, his little curse of a blessing.

——————————————————————————

[crljhnn]

Math tutor

Pairing: Rodrick Heffley x fem!Reader

Summary: Rodrick is continuously unsuccessful in asking you out, so when he finds out that you are now tutoring his younger brother he decides to use this to his advantage. The only problem, Greg doesn't play along.

No physical description of the reader; No use of y/n

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: None

>Posted on AO3 as well<

“So that means x equals 9.” The answer comes out more like a question.

You've been tutoring Greg for about three weeks now and he finally, for the first time since starting this school year, seems to understand what is going on during math class.

“Yes, that’s right!”

“Really?”

While Greg wasn’t the first Heffley you ever tutored, he was the first to actually listen to what you said and process your explanations.

A few years ago you were taking the same math class as his older brother Rodrick who, back then, quite literally begged you to give him some tutoring lessons. While you didn’t like the idea of spending extra time at school to teach someone math, him apparently being so desperate for help, tugged at your heartstrings, making you give in.

On top of that, him being kind of cute and your teeny-tiny crush on him helped convince you as well. However, this adoration you harbored for about three months at that point, died about 5 minutes into your session.

He was barely paying attention to what you were saying, focusing more on drumming his pencils on the edge of the desk while humming along, using every breath you took to change the subject, mostly telling you about this little band of his. The straw that broke the camels back was when he dared to ask why you wanted to end the session only 15 minutes in, following it up with a „That was fun, let’s study together again soon!“.

Since you felt rather disrespected by that, you haven’t really spoken to him since. The highest form of communication was a forced smile when he would greet you in the hallway. You don’t have any common classes anymore.

However, your fiasco concerning Rodricks tutoring lessons didn’t stop his mom from asking you to tutor her younger son who, unsurprisingly, was falling behind in math as well. The significant difference this time was, that you were being paid. So even if Greg turned out to be just as uninterested in what you were saying as his older brother, it wouldn’t be a complete waste of time, at least for you.

That’s how you ended up in the local library every Monday and Wednesday for the last few weeks, explaining math to the younger brother of your former crush.

Today was different though. Since the library had to close down for a week, because of renovations, you decided to meet at the Heffleys house instead.

The last thing Rodrick expected, when he went downstairs to raid the fridge for snacks, was finding his crush of 3 years sitting in his living room.

Having his eyes fixed on you, he misses the last step, causing him to stumble, managing in the last second to grasp the railing to stop himself from face-planting. The result was him reaching the end of the stairs with a loud crash.

“You surely know how to make a remarkable entrance.”

“Haha yeah, hi.” He nervously scratches the back of his head “What are you… hah… what are you doing here?” ‘Stay cool Rodrick, you got this!’

“What does it look like? She’s tutoring me dumbass” The oldest Heffley son honestly didn’t even realize his younger brothers presence until he spoke up.

“Ah cool, so uhm good luck?” With another awkward laugh, he turns around and runs back upstairs.

Back in his room, he begins to panic, if he would have known that you were here he would have prepared better. But he’s sure he can still wing it.

First of all, he’s calling the band over for practice, I mean, he has his own band, chicks dig that.

He has it all planned out in his head, he will put on nice clothes, a nice perfume, and maybe even a bit of eyeliner as well, surely you’re into that. Then he’s gonna go downstairs, let his band in, and have a little jamming session with the boys.

Then there are two possible ways how the plan could continue to play out.

Possibility one, you hear his band playing from the living room and are so impressed that you just have to go and get a closer look. After that, he is going to invite you to sit in on practice for a bit longer. At the end of the session mesmerized will be an understatement to describe your state of mind and you won’t even have to think about it twice when he finally asks you out on a date.

The second possible outcome of you hearing him play is that you, while amazed, are still too shy to come up to him, so he will take a little break to get himself something to drink. Like one of those movie cliches, he’s gonna come in all sweaty, taking a sip of water and then emptying the rest of the bottle over his face and body to ‚cool himself down. Women find that hot, right? You definitely won’t be able to take your eyes off of him then.

While he is daydreaming about you drooling over him, he simultaneously digs through his closet, trying to find this one specific band shirt, that he bought after overhearing you gushing about their newest album. At the same time as he finds it, he hears his friends pull up, making him change in record speed while leaving his room to go back downstairs.

“Oh my god thank you for finally changing your shirt, the last one was smelling disgusting after you’ve been wearing it for like two weeks straight.” Greg had picked up on Rodricks crush on his tutor instantly, quickly deciding that using this new information to mess with him is the best form of revenge for the years of torture his brother put him through.

“Ugh shut up.” He turns to you “He’s lying you know. I change my clothes an appropriate amount of times. I actually just got ready for band practice. You remember me telling you about my band right? The boys are gonna be here any minute now.” He tries to be casual by leaning against the railing of the stairs but ends up stumbling instead.

“Yeah, I remember,” You don’t seem too happy about it though “But why do you have your shirt on backwards?”

Rodricks head snaps down. Fuck. Greg giggles. An awkward silence follows.

He's saved by the doorbell ringing, followed by the other Löded Diaper members walking in.

“Hi bro!”

“Yo Rodrick!”

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Why do you have your shirt on backwards?”

This time it’s you who giggles.

Sensing how embarrassed their band founder is, the boys take pity on him and rush him away.

After Rodrick explained his plan to his friends, resulting in him getting hyped up by them, they played for a while. After about 30 minutes he concludes that you won’t make the first move, which brings him to execute plan B of his strategy: to take matters into his own hands.

“You got this man!” He jogs back towards the living room, expecting to find you and his younger brother still studying but instead, he is greeted with Greg sitting in front of the tv playing video games.

“Oh is your tutoring session over already?” He tries to sound unbordered but fails horribly.

“Yeah you know I found it really hard to concentrate with this loud music, so we cut today short.” Greg grins up at the oldest Heffley child.

“Listen up you little shit-” he doesn’t finish his sentence. Maybe he could use Gregs help for his own benefit since you always seem to flee when he tries to make a move. It was the same a few years ago.

He had it all planned out back then as well. First, he was gonna ask you out for a study date, well that didn’t quite work out and it ended up more like a tutoring session. However, the result was that you two were spending some alone time together, so you could say that he roughly reached his initial goal. At least he counted it as a success.

Then Rodrick was going to make you fall for him. And how was he gonna do that? By impressing you of course. And what is the best way to impress a girl? Being in a band! Easy.

Well, that didn’t work out, driving you away even further. So maybe he could use his younger brother to get some inside info on what you like in men and what makes you fall for them.

Rodrick is fast to lay out his new plan to Greg.

“And why would I assist you with that? What is in it for me?” As expected, he is not exactly keen on helping his older brother out. So threatening it is.

“Cause if you don’t, you will regret it.” Greg is about to refuse again when he gets an idea. This would be the perfect way to get revenge on Rodrick. He is just gonna spin around everything you say and make his older brother ruin every chance he's ever had with you.

“Alright fine, I’ll do it.”

—

“Okay spit it out!” You and Greg are seated at your usual table at the library “You haven’t been able to sit still since you got here, what’s wrong?”

“I have a question.” He is not looking at you.

“Okay shoot!”

Greg has been thinking about how to interrogate you about your type without raising suspicions since the day he agreed to help Rodrick. “So there is this girl I kind of like and I wanted to ask you for advice. If a guy would want to go out with you, what would he need to do to stir your interest?”

“Well, every girl is different so-”

“Yeah but what about you?”

That confuses you a bit, but Greg asking you for girl advice was cute enough for you to not overanalyze it further.

“Well me personally, I like sweet and considerate guys,…”

—

“So what did she say?!” Rodrick was waiting for his younger brother at the front door, attacking him with questions as soon as he was close enough to hear.

“Calm down! So first of all she said, that she likes assholes you know, just your typical badboy!”

—

“…you know, the kind of guy who listens to what you have to say and really values your opinion. I want someone who actually hears what I say and shows that he is interested in me as a person...”

—

“She wants someone who is just a natural leader, an alpha, someone who makes decisions for her and shows dominance by interrupting her frequently. Also don’t seem too eager, she said she finds that overwhelming and just too much. Play it cool, act like you don’t care.”

—

“… so that means I also prefer deeper compliments, not just about my looks. Of course, it's nice to be called pretty every once in a while, but there is nothing worse than a guy repeatedly telling you how attractive you are, without ever appreciating anything else about you! Like is that the only thing about me that you like, my looks?…”

—

“She also likes to be complimented about her looks a lot, the more the better. Don’t even bother with any other kinds of compliments. ”

—

“… And lastly, never compliment a woman by putting other women down. The whole ‘Oh you're just not like other girls’ thing is deeply rooted in misogyny. It’s never a flattering compliment when it's only working because you are putting someone else down.”

—

“And lastly, she wants to feel special, you know, the best compliments include a comparison, for example, tell her how she is prettier than other women!”

Rodrick was hastily writing everything down.

“Thank you so much, I owe you!”

“No problem”

—

While you forgot about Gregs weird behavior as soon as you go back to explaining math, you are reminded of it again later, when he asks you to have your next session at his house, without giving an actual reason.

The weirdness reached its peak when he, shortly after you arrived at his house the next week, excused himself to quote ‘Look for, uh… you know,… a thing? That’s in my room’, then went to the bathroom instead, and ‘coincidentally’ as soon as he left his older brother showed up.

“Heyyy what’s up?” Rodrick mentally revises the list he learned by heart last night.

‘Be an asshole’ he kicks your water bottle that was standing next to you, “Oops…”

“Rodrick what the fu-”

‘Show dominance’

“Pick it up!”

“Excuse me? What is wrong wit-”,

‘Act like you don’t care’

“Quit talking like I care about what you have to say, what was your name again?”

“Wh- We both know that you know my name, what the fu-”,

‘Compliment her looks’

“You’re hot!”

And lastly, ‘Make her feel special by comparing her to other women’

“Especially compared to the other girls at school”.

A perfect delivery. He did everything that Greg told him to do. But why did you seem so angry? You looked like you were ready to swing at him.

That’s when he saw it. His shitty little brother was watching the interaction through the slightly opened bathroom door, holding a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. When he catches Rodricks eye he slams the door shut.

“I’m gonna kill you!” He is sprinting towards the room his brother is hiding in, banging his fists against the door.

“What the fuck is going on?” You haven’t been so confused in a long time. That’s when it clicked for you too. That’s why Greg was acting so weird, that’s why he asked about YOUR dating preferences specifically. He asked for advice for Rodrick but must have messed with his brother, based on the older ones reaction.

“Rodrick, were you trying to hit on me?” Your voice is heavily laced with disbelief.

The boy stopped his obnoxious assault on the door.

“Did it work?”

You barely hold in your laugh. “Sure.”

“Wait really?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

Your smile is kinder now, finding this side of Rodrick, where he is eager to appeal to you, really endearing. Shit, are your feelings for him coming back? You definitely were completely over your crush before, so how did he so easily wrap you around his finger again?

“I would have never guessed that you out of all people were into me, you know, after the little stunt you pulled a while ago.”

“What do you mean?” Rodrick is confused, when did he do something that made you believe that he wasn’t interested in you?

“Our tutoring session? When you completely disrespected me by not even listening to me after you were the one to ask for help.”

“I was listening to you! It's just hard to concentrate when you are so… you! And your voice is so…” Wow he just has this way with words “And I didn't intend for it to be actually studying when I ask you. I just wanted an excuse to hang out with you, maybe impress you a bit, my band being the impressive part by the way, and then later ask you out on a date.” He scratches the back of his head sheepishly.

“And this little scene that played out just now, I guess that was Gregs doing?”

“Yes, since it didn’t work out the last two times I tried to get you to go out with me, I thought this was the best way to do it.”

Oh, your crush was definitely back, and bigger than ever at that.

“Well you never actually asked me out, maybe that would have been enough.”

“Really?”

“I don’t know, guess you have to ask to find out.”

[odillisea]

I keep seeing people talking about how Dorcas was killed by Voldemort himself and completely misinterpreting it as “she was so strong and powerful that only he could kill her,” which might’ve been what happened, but I feel like probably wasn’t the case seeing as he’s killed plenty of random people throughout the series and she was only really mentioned that one time.

But there could’ve been some other reason as well, rather than “oh yeah she was just really really powerful.” What if the reason Voldemort targeted Dorcas was because she kept talking to her old friends from Slytherin and making them question their loyalties and whatnot, and had even managed to make a few death eaters drop out of the war? Sure, she was a dangerous enemy to have, but what if another layer of that danger for Voldemort’s side was her way with words?

Imagine Dorcas fighting in the war and seeing her old classmates that she quite literally lived with for seven years fighting against her. Imagine Pandora telling her the reason why she couldn’t bring herself to join the order, despite how much she wanted to help, was because she couldn’t make herself do anything to hurt Evan. Imagine her continuing to fight with all her strength, but then tracking down the death eaters she knew from school just to see if she could talk them out of it.

Evan and Barty stayed, of course. They were loyal to Voldemort till the end but they would always leave her, one of the order’s best duellists, completely unscathed. But others would listen to her, growing more uncertain and starting to hold back more or try to leave the death eaters completely. She was a Slytherin after all. She would’ve had both the ambition and drive to find these death eaters individually, and the cunning in her words to make them question their loyalties.

Maybe Voldemort went after her after Regulus died, because he thought she had something to do with him betraying him, and maybe she actually did. Maybe she had talked to him, even if it was Kreacher that was the turning point, and he had to kill her himself because she could genuinely make them lose the war if she kept doing what she was doing. Maybe the power she had that Voldemort feared so much was the power to turn his own forces on him. The power to destroy his forces without a single weapon or wand.

[socksandbuttons]

Swap AU Stuff

Alright let's jsut try getting down basics maybe

Also this maybe long actually.

The obvious Swaps Lunar and Eclipse: Basically how we meet them in episode. I legit went along with thinking this Eclipse wasn't memory wiped the whole time so thats kinda- in the air a bit. But Lunar being the original body (I have a post showing how Eclipse looked then), Eclipse with the one he made (to be taller. He can't stand being small... Well shorter than anyone really. A shame he has Bloodmoon towering over him.) The Glamrocks: They are as Swapped so Chica is Freddy, Freddy is Roxy, Roxy is Monty and Monty is Chica (I love them immediately after giving them luscious hair im sorry). Rox and Sun are friends and he's quite protective of Sun, also a cowboy cause swap au/Foxy etc. Digi in the discord came up with this and i died cause it was so good actually. Eclipse and Lunar still go thru the whole October Arc with Moon and Sun. Moon being far more quiet but aggressive. Made Sun to hinder Eclipse. Let me paste my lil paragraph i had in discord

"Sun likely has more denial about moons treatment of him, however like lunar he does start questioning if its good for moon to get the star (like sort of getting the Moon Wont Stop so i need to do something he might hurt himself etc) plus lunar and eclipses treatment of sun would be a huge factor too, eclipse obviously is terrible at communcating and while he's a bit of a jerk, realizing sun might be in danger or hurt is something he might catch on faster. maybe. im thinking anyway sun catches attachment to both that outweighs his denial of moon being terrible actually. he's still grasping at things even well after. doesnt realize he gets awful panic attacks until someone points it out actually. and then i lost my train of thought but moon still loved sun just…. very clearly was not the forefront of his goals tho. feels very betrayed by sun after and likely wont fogrive sun. vs sun whos too willing to forgive despite his anxiety screaming at him NOT TO. i just wanna show a different thing to this cause lunar recognized halfway into october and let moon handle the rest and recognizes that eclipse was hurting him much sooner than sun wouldve (see the… current sun. og sun recognizes now but it truly took him a WHILE, communication Real now.)" Anyway, Sun does end up getting adopted by both Eclipse and Lunar. He's never gonna be taller than Eclipse. But as mentioned he's got a lot of things to work through about Moon (Roxy will kick so much ass for him.) Generally trying to grasp that yeah no it was pretty fucked up of Moon to do anything to Sun. Now the timeline gets a lil weird beyond this because like KC would've also been in this plot. KC unlike our Bloodmoon, is actually far smarter (Im sorry to bm fans), he DOES work with Sun but generally more for his benefit of getting rid of Moon. He doesn't really need to be bribed for this actually. Imagine KC being so pissed about Moon showing up in his systems and hes LIKE WTF MAN. Zappity Zap Zap Double Dee Moon Anyway Cue Bloodmoon arriving. And like bloodmoon does- He does technically hold Eclipse hostage but gets bored. So there is mild agreement. Bloodmoon does what KC did and FORCED themself out (like our OG boy!). They're uh... theyre not very keen on sticking around a daycare as fun as itd be to tear it up. They like lightly bully Sun but Roxy to the rescueee. Anyway, 'Does KC die in this au?' No he doesnt. He gets CLOSE to it but Bloodmoon just goes 'Hmn. nah son you're coming with me'. Lunar still feels incredibly bad about it though. Space arriving sooner actually more or less helps like avoid some certain issues here and there. Unlike Earth where she arrives much later (due to be literally distracted.) Space goes directly to the daycare. Thus kinda- changing some bits. He does meet Bloodmoon, hates him though. 'Why aren't you thinking this through' 'We wanna see how much they scream' 'You'll be electrocuting yourself before you get the chance' '...That means Eclipse gets electrocuted?' 'Put down. the fork.' KC handles Bloodmoon with much exasperation. Bloodmoon picked up this sucker and went 'our Spawn'. Baffles KC. Space ends up meeting Crater, Moon got annoyed with Space's presence being literally really hard to work around. Sends Crater, Crater and Space get along well enough that it wasn't Moon intention but this works too. Space (theres irony here) gets concerned with Crater and her not viewing herself with autonomy. She is still just a 'basic AI' as she puts it. Does what she's told. Bloodmoon doesn't really use her just kinda shoo's her off to Space or Eclipse. 'No you're no fun-' 'I have told to monitor you' 'WE DIDNT ASK MOON FOR A BABYSITTER' 'I am programmed to defend' 'We dont need defending either' 'You are still vunerable' '...Go away' 'Affirmative. Destination please?' 'DAYCARE'

Anyway How do i sum this up. Roxy and Sun are besties Lunar and Sun vibe. Eclipse is soft with Sun.

Bloodmoon has claimed ONE child. Doesn't really claim Moon but thats a later thing. Moon and KC despise one another.

KC didn't really want this fatherly figure but he begrudgingly accept them. Funny things happen with these three. Bloodmoon doesn't become pacifist, just more or less moves away dragging KC with them. A little bitter at Lunar's murder attempt but its fine. No one died there but heavily maimed.

Eclipse and Moon still ultimately hate one another. There is a Swap version of Solar thats Moon and- we'll get confused so just know its out there. Space and Crater are good friends and partly why both end up questioning their existence but both support pillars to one another that it just kinda isn't as devastating. Unless someone dies. Crater does end up having her own personhood, Moon does get attached to her even if he doesnt admit it. Space doesn't question creator enough but Crater does and vice versa. Bloodmoon(s) does have a name but ill reveal that later??? idk

[nilolemillion]

Let’s get one thing straight (very unlike me): Batman loves his kids. All of them. He’d die for each one in a heartbeat (of course not kill for them, cough cough Jason). But if you think for one second that Bruce Wayne, the guy who regularly dresses as a bat and fights crime at 3 AM (cough cough insomniac furry.), has a favorite BatKid, then clearly, you’ve never met his children. He doesn’t have a favorite, not because he loves them equally, but because none of these potatoe pie pumpkin cutie-headed chaos gremlins deserve to be his favorite.

Let me explain.

Dick Grayson (WOOP WOOP that’s the sound of that police. Yes Karen, I know he’s no longer an officer, NO KAREN I DON’T GIVE A FUCK.):

The first pancake. The golden boy. Everyone assumes that Dick has a special place in Bruce’s heart because he was the first Robin. He’s charming, he’s capable, and he smiles like he’s got a fucking sponsorship deal with Colgate. But let’s be real, this guy left the nest the second he could, started his own superhero gig in Blüdhaven, and still occasionally shows up to remind Bruce that he doesn’t need him (yes king, show your independence, love that for you.) And you know Dick is the type to throw that ‘you’re getting old, B’ line out there just to twist the knife. Bruce loves him, but how can he be the favorite when he’s busy playing Batman-lite with better hair?

Jason Todd (My personality favorite zombie, resuscitated character in the whole world, I love him so much and all the Outlaws.):

Oh, Jason. The problem child. The one Bruce failed, died, and came back with a vengeance (literally). You’d think after all that tragedy, Bruce might go a little easier on him. But Jason? This kid shows up at family dinners with guns blazing, ready to debate the morality of lethal force like it’s Thanksgiving dinner conversation (and it is, I did it and it was quite fun.) Sure, Bruce would die for him (again), but Jason pushes every button Bruce has like it’s his job. One minute he’s trying to be the better vigilante, the next, he’s making Gotham’s criminals wonder if Batman has gone completely off the rails. If Jason’s Bruce’s favorite, it’s in the ‘how are you still alive and not in jail?’ kind of way.

Tim Drake (DC DROP ANOTHER CANON ILLUSTRATION OF TIM BEING A CUTE LIL STALKER AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!):

Tim’s the brainiac of the family, the kid who deduced Bruce’s secret identity with zero help. Naturally, you’d think this would earn him some serious brownie points. But here’s the thing, Tim works way too hard. He’s got all the signs of a caffeine addiction (which is completely and absolutely understandable, he’s just a little silly and caffeine addicts are hot, yes I am too), zero concept of work-life balance, and is always trying to out-detective Bruce. Yeah, Bruce admires his dedication, but let’s be honest: Tim’s the kid you have to physically shove into bed because he thinks sleep is a myth. Bruce is just trying to prevent this kid from burning out before he’s 30. How can Tim be the favorite when Bruce spends most of his time making sure he doesn’t turn into an insomniac vigilante-zombie?

Damian Wayne (I’m literally making my birthday party theme of him, that should explain enough.):

Ah, Damian. His literal blood son. You’d think that alone would give him a shot at favorite-child status, right? Wrong. Damian is an adorable, pint-sized murder machine with a superiority complex the size of Wayne Manor. Bruce loves him fiercely, of course, but Damian’s idea of father-son bonding is training in deadly combat and arguing about why his assassination techniques are totally valid. Plus, he’s got that whole ‘I’m the heir to the world’s deadliest league of assassins’ thing going on. Sure, he’s Bruce’s kid, but you know he’s never going to let Bruce forget it. Not exactly favorite material when he’s constantly plotting world domination during family movie night. (Dw, he won’t act on it, Alfred made very clear that the batkid who dares dominate the world will be banned from his pastries. Besides, he’s too busy scratching Titus’ belly, he doesn’t have time to dominate the world. PRIORITIES BITCH.)

Cassandra Cain (I stan her more than I stand my own life. Help. I literally crocheted a plushy of her.):

Cassandra is probably the least rebellious out of the bunch, which should give her an edge, right? Wrong again. Cass may be quiet and respectful most of the time, but when she does go rogue, it’s on her terms, and it’s not just a small rebellion. No, Cass will disappear for weeks on end, take down a crime syndicate by herself, and then show up like it’s no big deal. Bruce can’t even stay mad because she’s so good at what she does. But Cass’s habit of ghosting the entire family and dealing with things solo? Yeah, it keeps her out of the running for favorite. Plus, she’s secretly the most dangerous one, and Bruce can’t play favorites with someone who could take him out without even blinking.

Duke Thomas (He’s was the sunshine I was midnight rain. DC DROP ANOTHER CANON ILLUSTRATION OF ISABELLA WITH DUKE AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!):

Duke the daylight protector of Gotham, which is cute and all, except that Bruce has no idea how to parent in the daylight. Duke brings this bright, positive energy to the BatFamily, which sounds great in theory, but this is Bruce we’re talking about. The guy who lives for darkness and brooding. Bruce loves Duke’s optimism, but it’s like trying to teach a vampire to enjoy the sun. Plus, Duke has a habit of questioning everything, and sure, Bruce appreciates his independent streak, but do you really want a favorite who keeps making you reconsider your life choices?

Stephanie Brown (My sweet dear and beloved purple queen, I love her so much.):

Not an adopted batkid, her mom is alive I think… But I don’t give a duck KAREN. Stephanie is the wildcard, the one who does whatever she wants, whenever she wants, and somehow gets away with it. She’s staged fake deaths, gotten fired from being Robin, and still keeps coming back for more. Stephanie’s whole existence is an exercise in chaos theory. Bruce loves her resilience and her ‘never-say-die’ attitude (literally), but how can she be his favorite when her middle name might as well be ‘Loose Cannon’? She’s the kind of kid who’ll fight crime while live-tweeting it. Yeah, Bruce loves her, but he’s not rewarding that kind of energy with a favorite child title. (I’m still confused about her age thingy.)

So no, Bruce doesn’t have a favorite. Because how could he? His kids are walking, talking disasters, each one a different flavor of chaos. Bruce loves them all more than anything in the world, but picking a favorite would be like trying to choose between different natural disasters. Earthquakes, tornadoes, volcanic eruptions, they’re all beautiful in their own destructive way, but you wouldn’t want to pick one to live through. In the end it’s about Bruce somehow surviving all of them.

[awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce]

Peace At Last

A purely self-indulgent Ten x Reader fic because I just love Ten so much okay! (gif made by me)

Let me know what you think!

Read on ao3

Tagging some people I’ve recently followed who I think might like it: @denaliwrites @tatennant @doctor-donnaa @quite-right-too @theetherealbloom @my-lonely-angel @casasupernovas @kbishop @tennant @raining-stars-somewhere-else @davidtennan-t

Ten x Reader, she/her/hers pronouns, one use of Y/N

(Sorry if this causes pain especially since it’s the last episode with Fourteen and David Tennant as The Doctor today. Wishing everyone so much love and hope you can cope with the pain we will all be experiencing in 5 hours!)

They bumped into each other.

Literally.

He wasn’t looking where he was going, just trying to focus on not collapsing in the street before he could make it back to the TARDIS, and she was coming out of a shop.

This was almost the end.

He could feel it.

He felt it when he saw Rose but he couldn’t let go.

Not yet.

He had one more stop.

He wanted to be near where she lived.

He just wanted to be near her.

One last time.

He didn’t want to wipe her memory but he had to.

It wasn’t like it was with Donna but he knew that one day she would die because of him and he didn’t want that.

He couldn’t bear the thought.

It had to be done so she could live and she never would have left of her own accord. She would never leave him willingly so what other choice did he have?

Especially after trying to change time and becoming The Time Lord Victorious. Look how that turned out.

Adelaide Brooke still died only it was his fault instead of it being an accident.

“Oh shit! Sorry! I should have been looking where I was going!” A voice said.

“No, it’s m-” He knew that voice. His luck really was great(!)

He must’ve paused for a beat too long because she spoke again. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

That was her all over. Always worrying and caring about others (him especially).

“Yeah! I’m fine!” He replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just feeling a bit under-the-weather. Winter and all, you know?” His voice didn’t sound like him. It was nervous, slightly high-pitched, and shook a little. He hoped that she didn’t know that there was something wrong.

“I know. You might want to invest in some actual winter clothes though to keep you warm. Converse and winter are not the best combination,” she laughed, looking him up and down at his unusual (to her now anyway) attire.

He could’ve cried and hugged her at hearing the jibe she’s told him multiple times while travelling with him. Instead, he forced himself to laugh and smile at her.

“Yeah, I suppose I should. Maybe one day,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck. A habit that he had developed when he was nervous.

She would have noticed and usually tried to comfort him. But not now. The thought made his hearts ache.

“Sorry but do I know you?” She asked, staring at him with a slight frown. His hearts leapt into his throat. “You just seem so familiar. What’s your name?”

He quickly composed himself before replying with a classic phrase. “No, sorry, I don’t think you do. I guess I just have one of those faces. Name’s David. David Smith.”

She had told him to stop with the John Smith alias as “no-one believes that’s your name. I may as well call myself Jane Doe.” So he had changed it as soon as he wiped her mind. Just in case he ever saw her again and the name John Smith made her remember.

“David…” She trailed off, as if she was trying to place the name, still slightly frowning until the crease between her eyebrows eased. “I guess you do just face on of those faces. Sorry about that,” she finished, smiling sheepishly.

He mentally released a breath that he didn’t realise he was holding.

“No worries,” he replied, smiling to try to ease her embarrassment that he knew she was feeling.

She may not remember him but he still knew her like the back of every hand he’s ever had.

They stood there for a few moments, longer than two seemingly strangers should, just smiling at each other before she looked away, a light blush colouring her already flushed cheeks from the cold.

His hearts ached again and pain filled his entire being.

He would never get to see her blush from embarrassment due to looking at him for too long again.

“I should probably go before the snow gets worse,” she said.

He looked around and noticed that the snow had started to get heavier since they had been talking.

“Of course. Get home safe.” His voice cracked. Home should be in the TARDIS with him.

“You too. Before you go,” she said, putting a hand on his arm as he was turning the leave.

He could feel the pain of having to leave her almost bring him to his knees due to feeling her touch again. It had felt so long since he had felt that and he never wanted her to stop.

He would never feel her comforting touch or her hand in his again and he was starting to break

She was rummaging through her bag and took out a blue scarf. TARDIS blue.

“Here,” she said softly as she leaned up on her tip toes and wrapped it around his neck. “I don’t know why but I just bought this. It’s not really my thing and I don’t have anyone else to give it to but there was something in my mind that urged me to buy it. Maybe this was fate,” she chuckled. “There! Looks great!” She grinned, smoothing out the scarf and his breath caught as her fingers grazed the back of his head.

“Thank you, he responded quietly, tears filling his eyes “Truly. Thank you.” He took her hands in his and kissed the back of them.

“You’re very welcome,” she said, just as quietly as him, and blushed once more.

He let go of her hands and took a step back. He swore that he saw disappointment on her face at that.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it for too long as she had thrown her arms tightly around his waist and pressed her face into his chest, taking a deep breath of him in.

He wasn’t sure if his hearts had stopped completely or if they were beating so fast that he couldn’t feel them beating properly anymore.

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head, taking in the familiar and comforting scent.

The hug ended as quickly as it had started but before he could feel too disappointed, she had placed her hands on his shoulders, almost wrapping her arms around his neck like the scarf was, and pressed her lips to his cheek.

She stepped back and smiled brightly at him

“Merry Christmas, Doctor,” she said as she walked away.

He was frozen.

Did she just-?

Could she-?

No.

She couldn’t remember him.

Could she?

His brain was working faster than normal.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he called after her before he knew was he was doing.

She briefly turned back and waved, that beautiful smile still on her lips, lighting up her whole face.

“Merry Christmas, my love,” he whispered, turning the corner as quickly as he could to find the TARDIS before him.

He could feel the old girl humming happily in his head and he smiled at her in return.

The image of his love didn’t leave his mind.

Not even as he noticed Ood Sigma.

Not even as he started to feel the pain of death returning.

Even when the Ood started singing to him and he felt himself burning, he could still see her.

Her smile bright and warm, helping him find peace.

At last.

~ A few streets away ~

“Huh. That was weird,” she said out loud.

Shrugging, she entered a café, still smiling and felt a warmth that travelled deep into her soul.

[songmingisthighs]

Wanbelyn

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. xxii - that's so gay

neurosurgeon!hongjoong × reader

buy me coffee ?

where love and peace is held, i never expected for this to happen. i planned and i planned, i expected, and i hoped, but it was never you. you held what i wanted hostage to make room for you, the thing that i needed but has no means of acceptance. deny me, live your best life.

From the moment you and Kijoong stepped into the gym, Kijoong immediately tried to run away from you to try one of the gym equipments. You had to wrangle the boy into your arms as you gave the front desk your information and told him that you had an appointment with the owner's son. It didn't help that the front desk dudebro was staring at you like a piece of meat.

A gym rat milf enthusiast. Original.

"Hi!"

You turned your head to the source of the voice and was met with a guy in black t-shirt and sweatpants that looked like he just stepped off a calvin klein photoshoot. Honestly, it made you blush a little but you did your best to not appear flustered, standing up with Kijoong in your arms with a smile on your face. "Hi, you must be Stan!" You said, making San crack a grin and chuckle slightly, "Actually, it's San," bending down slightly, he locked eyes with Kijoong who was looking at him curiously, "And you must be Kijoong! Uncle Wooyoung told me a lot about you!" Hearing the familiar name, Kijoong straightened up, "You know Woo?" He asked in squeak, "Of course I do! He told me your nanny here wanted you to try some classes, huh? Why don't we go check them out, does that sound good?"

Kijoong looked between San and you, unsure how to answer. But you shrugged, "It's up to you bud," you encouraged. "Well maybe you don't know what classes we have. Currently for kids, we have classes in gymnastics, tumbling, and a couple of martial arts classes," San explained, trying to offer options to aid the boy in his dilemma. You cringed at the first two ideas though, "Yeah, he's already hyper as it is, we don't wanna turn running around in the house into catapulting his body onto the wall with precision." San couldn't help but laugh at your joke, finding it amusing that you were effortlessly funny. "Of course," he said after his laughter died down but letting the smile on his face remain, "Well let's have Kijoong try some classes, hm? Our kiddy Karate class is going on right now and let's see how he likes it."

While Kijoong joined the Karate class, you and San sat at the back, watching the class progressed but mostly having a nice chat.

"I have something to admit," San's voice broke your concentration from seeing Kijoong looking at you like he wanted you to hold him, "I actually recognize you. Wooyoung talks a lot about you," San said sheepishly. Your eyes widened but almost immediately it furrowed, "Wait, how much is 'a lot'? It can't be that much, right?" San took a moment to think of an answer that allows you an insight as to how often Wooyoung talks about you. "Well, I know you both met because he got into an argument with your cousin, Jongho when Jongho moved into his dorm complex in college his second year and you had dragged them out of their stupid, petty feud literally to the lobby and force them to apologize to each other in public," San answered after contemplating. You couldn't help but feel a little impressed at his knowledge but also confused as to why Wooyoung would share about you and your cousin. "Okay that means he talks about me quite a lot," you chuckled.

Conversation with San flowed rather smoothly and you found yourself talking about choice of career path and even telling him about how you ended up being Kijoong's nanny all the while making sure the boy was still listening to the instructor up front. The conversation started with your college days and his and he talked about how he ended up managing the gym with his dad which he was against of initially because he didn't want his love for exercising and taekwondo to be diminished to numbers and maintaining a brand. You were rather impressed with how he pitched the kiddy classes to his dad and had to convince him for 3 months straight before he said yes and not a year later they expanded and moved to the current building. He has tenacity, potential, personality, and passion. You kind of saw why Wooyoung befriends him and even became roomates.

It was about fifteen minutes into the class when Kijoong came trodding with a deep pout, climbing on your lap and burrying his face on your shoulder. "I'on like this class," he whined, arms tightening and face nuzzling deep. You scoffed and tried pulling the boy back but he was clinging onto you for dear life, "Kijoong, buddy, you're not even giving this class a chance, you've been looking back at me this whole time! You can't say you don't like something when you haven't put in the effort which includes concentration like the other boys here," you sighed. Hearing your words, Kijoong pulled back and batted his eyelash at you, trying to melt your resolve but unfortunately you were not about to fall victim to his manipulation. The same can't be said about San who was wracking his brain trying to think of ways to engage the child. "You gotta try, buddy," you pointed out unwaveringly which furrowed Kijoong's eyebrows as he side-eyed San who was trying his best to not grab the boy and give him some candy. "He's a boy, why does he get to stay here and talk to you?" He scowled.

You were about to scold Kijoong when San answered without missing a beat, "Because I don't do Karate, I'm a Taekwondo athlete. Well, former." That piqued Kijoong's interest as seen from his twinkling eyes, "My uncle Bumjoong knows Taekwondo!" He exclaimed, loosening his grip on you to turn towards San, "How do you do Taekwondo?" He asked, head tilting to the side in intrigue. "Why don't I show you? My kiddy Taekwondo class is over but we can check out the classroom and try things out," he smiled at Kijoong who immediately tried to make a dash through the door but you knew better and wrap your arms around his torso. "Are you sure you can give him a private trial like that?" You weren't really worried about access as much as being a bother because he's the owner's son and he was going out of his way to show things himself. Kijoong, on the other hand, didn't care as he dangled in your arms while still trying to make his escape to check out the Taekwondo class.

San waved his hand and stood up, "Nah, I need to make sure we have enough tiles for next week's mid class practice which is for kids ages 12-16. May I?" San opened his hands in front of Kijoong, hinting that he wanted to take the boy out of your grip. You would be hesitant or even reluctant had it not been for the fact that Kijoong was trying to claw his way into San's arms and when you let go of the boy, instead of having San carry him, Kijoong grabbed San's hands and tried pulling him towards the door. TRIED being the operative word since San didn't even move an inch, only staring at the boy with amusement in his eyes.

Just as you thought they would walk out first, San (unbothered with Kijoong's attempt to drag him away) turned around and offered you a hand to help you get up which made you blush because it wasn't like you had any issue. His gentlemanly manners shone as he opened the door for you even when Kijoong was whining for him to hurry up (which earned him a light scolding for being rude) and had moved to dangling off of San's strong arm. You all but stare at how San wasn't affected at all by Kijoong's constant attempt to move him. Once again, you found yourself amused and impressed by San and you couldn't help but pat yourself on the back, feeling sure that this was going to be a good thing for him. And maybe for you.

network :

@cultofdionysusnet @sandsofire @kflixnet

taglist :

@yunho-mp3 @strawberry-yeo @luvt0kki @allisonleannn @dinossaurz @khjcs @blackb3ll @aloverga @at1nys-blog @itsbeeble @senpai-of-doom @axo-l0tl @green-thots @intancollins @galaxypox @fire-and-flame @maddiebabyxoxo @alyssajavenss @mirror-juliet @gxlden-bxbyy @charreddonuts @dreamlesswonder86 @mayonnaisehoeshit @kodzukein @teenyfinds @dear-dreamie @mitchloveswriting @soobiverse @satsuri3su @phenomenalgirl9 @guess-monst3r @dimeb29 @ka-ni-ma @yayaistime @angelicyeo @kyume02 @thedistractedwriter @surveilenceysystem @ateezourstars @mismatchfluffysocks @puppyminnnie @nycol-ie @aursmrt

[cripplecharacters]

Hi, this is probably a stupid question but would it make sense/be accurate for an autistic character to have, like,,,,, normal facial expressions, at the correct time (like when they're happy or sad) like a neurotypical person? Without having to mask and intentionally force themselves to make those faces?

I'm autistic but I don't think I do this. I don't talk to people unless I absolutely have to and my memory is dogshit so I can't recall any times when people have commented on my facial expressions, and I definitely do make expressions sometimes, just maybe not in the right contexts or not very often.

I'm making a comic and one of the characters is autistic and very based on my own symptoms (she's the main character so since she gets a lot of screen time, I figured it would be easiest if I already knew how to represent her).

My reasoning behind wanting her expressive is:

There are already two other characters with autism who are pretty blank and expressionless.

It's a comic and I want to draw a lot of fun expressions, I want her to be able to smile softly and snarl and look baffled and make all kinds of faces, without her having to mask and constantly be miserable.

But my problem is that I want her to actually have autism. And when I look up posts online from other people, I'm really not seeing a whole lot of "Oh yeah I can emote and make facial expressions exactly like a normal person, in the correct contexts, automatically without masking."

So I'm not sure at this point if this is something we can even do? I've seen quite a few autistic people say that our brains literally do not work this way.

Maybe, would it be possible that she has the opposite problem most autistic people do? Most of us are sort of blank and expressionless and have to mask and make ourselves look happy/surprised/angry.

I thought that instead, she could be TOO expressive, so she would have the correct expressions at the correct times (looking angry when she's angry) but she wouldn't notice this, and would make the wrong expression at a bad time?

For example, if she was at a funeral and found something funny, she would unintentionally smile/scrunch her face up and everyone would get pissed because "Omg girl their grandma got killed by a dragon and you're laughing?"

So most autistics = masking to create expressions

But her = masking to remove expressions

I hope this makes sense It's midnight and I need to sleep lmao

Hi asker!

I just wanted to say that it is, in fact, possible for autistic people to be naturally expressive. A flat or flatter affect might be more common, and many autistic people mask to create expressions. But that doesn't mean all!

Me, personally, I'm autistic. I've been called expressive pretty often. I generally smile when I'm happy, frown when I'm pissed off, widen my eyes when I'm surprised – expressions you'd consider normal. This happens less often the more tired I am, and in my diagnosis debrief I was told that what I do that isn't normal is that I don't direct expressions to people: basically, that I don't use expressions to communicate with others, they just sort of happen. Which surprised me, because I saw communication as kind of a side effect of expressions as opposed to the main purpose, if that makes sense?

One of my adult family members is autistic as well. They are also very expressive, in fact kind of too expressive like you mention your character could be. They can't really hide the facial expressions they do (that generally correspond to typical expressions) and so can't really hide what they're feeling, even when it would be better to hide it. Their version of masking would be working to remove these expressions, which they don't actually do, but that would be the case.

That's two examples of people with autism that are pretty typically expressive, yet still show social/communication difficulties even in that. So: what you're describing is definitely possible.

As a side note:

Autism is two-fold: social/communication difficulties, and restrictive/repetitive behavior. Everyone who has autism experiences those two aspects. However, autism is also very varied in how these things present, so be wary of anything or anyone that says something (other than those two things) applies to either absolutely all or absolutely no autistic people. Sure, some presentations are more common – like a flat affect, or lack of eye contact, or how hand-flapping is a common stim. But no single presentation is universal. And on top of that, 'difficulties with social communication' doesn't have to mean 'difficulties with every single aspect of this.' It can! But it doesn't always.

Also, wow, I have typed the word "expression" so much that it barely seems like a real word right now!

– mod sparrow

[hey-i-am-trying]

ME RANTING ABOUT MISINFORMATION ABOUT BAGI AND WHAT NOT

A missing piece people don't realize about the workers' murder arc is that Bagi was not all that bothered by the workers' death at first, she was more worried about how Cucurucho would retaliate and also by the cannibalism, because yeah, cannibalism doesn't exactly scream mental health.

It was seeing the grief of the living workers that changed her profoundly, it filled her with guilt. And I cannot help but think of young Bagi who didn't have a body to bury, didn't have closure, and refused to even acknowledge the possibility that her brother was dead, being so moved by such an open sight of mourning.

Bagi ran herself stressed not knowing a way to help Cellbit AND stop the murders, she refused any solution that would harm him, she went after talking with people who were close with Cellbit and whom she also trusted to not turn information to the Feds. I am sick and tired to people saying "Bagi told random people about the murders". List of islanders Bagi actually told: Roier, Bad, Pac, and Mike. All who were in one way or another connected to enigmas themselves. People who she knew had more information about Cellbit past or that she thought deserved to know for their own safety.

Bagi never called Cellbit a monster or even insinuated he would hurt the eggs, I really don't know where this misinformation came from. In the separate scenes of Bagi and Bad confronting Cellbit they were they quite literally saying he was more than a murderer, and that he was being consumed by his history of violence

(Also, I get it that watching your blorbo drown in blood is fun and all. But like, did you watch Cellbit's story and believe he turned back into a murderer and being brought back to the violent cycle he was forced into is a good thing? Did watch him seeing his childhood room for the first time and asking himself what he did to deserve to be taken away from his family and made to kill people to be able to survive? Did you see that and then when he told Bagi he didn't care if he died again because he died enough time and did not get that Cellbit murdering people is also him losing grasp on the importance of life itself? Did you not get that this was not a developing arc for him? This was him at his fucking worst after having the best things in his life taken again, again and again. Murder was not enrichment for him, it was a poison that killed parts of him too)

Anyway. That is for now. I think. Just a lot of shit I needed to get out of my chest.

[eddiediazismyhusband]

okay no bc i actually need to see abuela having a meaningful talk with christopher about how shannon wasn’t a good mother and that he’s old enough to know the truth rather than eddie just over-romanticizing the whole thing

christopher does not need to be shamed for being upset at his mom leaving. the whole “she didn’t leave, she died 🥺” argument is just factually untrue when she fully intended to leave again before she had her accident

he does not need to be coddled and told about how hard it was for her when she was actively being just as ableist as ramon and helena. he is 13 years old; if he can make a decision on where he lives, he can hear the truth of how awful his mother was so that maybe he can actually provide sufficient context to the actions his dad has taken

yes, she was very young when christopher was born, and no eddie was not a perfect husband/father in the beginning; but the point is she didn’t even give him a chance to even begin processing his PTSD when he cane back, immediately vilifying him for everything before doing the same exact thing as what… petty revenge? giving him a taste of his own medicine? you’re an adult woman with a son who needed you and you walked out on him because you didn’t want the stress. okay, that’s fine, that’s your choice

but don’t show up once he’s older demanding to see him because “he’s my son too” and then proceeding to shame eddie, the one who HAS been there for him after you left, for something he already has made clear he regrets, and has also atoned for by stepping up and actually taking responsibility rather than shirking them the moment it got ‘too hard’ when his parents would have been more than willing to let him do

and then to try and manipulate him with the whole “he’s my son” “we can be a family again” bullshit as a way to get back into his pants— only to dip as soon as things start to get serious again?

and on top of that, the “she was just a girl” argument doesn’t even hold up because yeah, she WAS just a girl. she’s not just a girl anymore. she’s a grown adult woman shirking her responsibility because she doesn’t want to be a mother. That’s all well and good; she doesn’t have to be a mother. But once you make that decision, don’t go crawling back acting like you weren’t the one to actively decide to leave. You’re an adult, making adult decisions, and you need to handle the adult consequences of those adult decisions.

sorry no one will ever be able to convince me to like shannon and im sick of the writers trying to force rose tinted glasses on her existence bc of tim’s obsession with bringing devin back out of nowhere every two seconds

anyway sorry for the shannon rant i saw thay post i reblogged and it just reminded me how much anger i hold towards her for everything she did and how i hate it when people are like “oh she changed she wanted to try again 🥺” when she quite literally didn’t, as is evident by the way she immediately tried to run away again the moment she had to be an adult.

also there is no way buck would EVER look at the way she treated chris and eddie and then actively be friends with her. friend-ly maybe, civil at best, but he would never look at the lasting hurt she caused those two and actively chose to persue a friendship with her.

anyway getting off my anti-shannon soap box and i just needed to get that off my chest lamo

[hunterbunter3000]

How do you think the boys would react to sweetheart wearing some of there clothes 😏

❤️.

Oh my fucking god.

Ghost

He would be just- w h a t

Sweetheart walking out with a pair of jeans and one of Ghost's long sleeve graphic shirts (you CANNOT TELL ME that Ghost doesn't have band shirts)

And ghost spits- LITERALLY SPITS OUT HIS TEA (HE NEVER DOES THAT) his eyes are ZEROING on her. I mean Sweetheart was getting hot from just his staring

Sweetheart, smirking: Do you have a problem with me wearing this, Ghost? I can take it off

Ghost: No. I want to do that myself.

Sweetheart: wait huh

--

Soap

Omg his neck almost SNAPPED

She was wearing his Grey Scotland Forever shirt, but it was quite small so it was like a crop top, and it was showing her womb tattoo (Soap can't get enough of that damn tattoo)

he licks his lips, eyes roaming on her waist. She turns to him and winks and he laughs while getting on top of the table

Soap: SCOTLAAANNNNNDDDD

Sweetheart: FORREEEEEVVAAAAAAAAHHHH

Ghost: SHUT THE FUCK UP

Gaz

Oh lord he wouldn't know what to do

She wearing his blue jacket with the England flag on the back. Watching her tug on the sleeves and warming up her hands is making him light-headed-- like girl why do you do this to me

Gaz: You- you're wearing my jacket...

Sweetheart: yep!

Gaz:....take it off.

Sweetheart: huh

Gaz: TAKE IT OFF ITS MINE YOU HAVE YOUR OWN

Sweetheart: NO I WANNA WEAR IT AND ITS COLD

(Gaz doesn't like sharing SHIT)

Price

He was a bit irritated that he couldn't find his hat. Or his sweater. He looked everywhere for it-- the team knows not to mess with his shit, especially his trusty fuckin HAT. AND HE LOST HIS GREEN SWEATER?? THE OLD MAN AINT HAPPY

He stomps in the living area and hears a soft snore. He stops, turning to the couch. Oh my lord-- Sweetheart curled up on the couch, wearing his sweater and using his hat a cover for her face. (HNNNGGGGG) He huffs and smiles, suddenly all his rage melting away. He bends down to collect his hat, and Sweetheart whines in her sleep.

Price, sighs: So pretty...

He bends down more and kisses her temple.

Price: Have a good nap, Princess.

König

He would be so damn REEEDDDD

Sweetheart, slapping his unconscious face: König? König-- Hey please don't be dead, I need more of your hoodies

Sweethearts wearing one of his big ass hoodies and SHORTS-- TIGHT TIGHT SHORTS THAT YOU COULD ONLY SEE IF SHE RAISED HER ARMS-- oh König died. And then she smiles at him and spreads her arms, showing how big it really is on her.

He has followed the light.

Krueger

Good lord, girl. You playing with FIRE

Came out with one of his flannels and got YANKED BACK INTO HER ROOM. I mean with s p e e d. She said 'hey guys', choked because of the force of Krueger's pull and was gone. Those were her last words 💀

Krueger locked the door and pushed her up against it, hooded face insanely close to hers. He chuckles at Sweetheart's hitched breath from his big hands tracing her arms.

Krueger: You like wearing my clothes, kleine Göttin?

Sweetheart: Uhm... yeah...

Krueger: Good. I have other shirts you could try on while we have fun.

[lisbeth-kk]

May Prompts (22) Night

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 22)

I'm so sorry. Go get those tissues. I've used all of mine.

Summary: Rosie gets devastating news, and all she can think of is how her Papa is coping.

Twenty-Two Years Old

When Dad called with the news, my first thought was quite irrational: oh no, we’re never going to celebrate our twentieth anniversary! The second thought hit me with force and made me breathless: how is Papa doing?

“I’ll hop on the next…”

“No need, sweetheart. A car will pick you up in approximately fifteen minutes,” Dad assured me, and that’s when I started to cry.

***

Uncle Myc stood and waited for me outside the car when I ran to the kerb. His arms opened and I collapsed against him, heartbroken and totally devastated. He didn’t try to comfort me with words of nonsense, like it’s going to be ok, because he knew it would be a long time before any of us would be fine after this sudden and tragic loss.

“She seemed fine yesterday,” I told uncle Myc on the way home.

“Yes, so I have been…informed,” he sighed.

“How is he?” I asked, terrified of the answer.

“As expected.”

“Rock bottom,” I mumbled, and felt my throat tighten painfully from withheld tears.

“Indeed,” uncle agreed gravely.

***

It was worse than I expected. Papa’s loud voice boomed like a signal horn from upstairs when I locked us in.

“How could you not have seen the signs? You’re a bloody doctor, John!”

The words were spit like venom. I couldn’t discern Dad’s reply, but his voice was calm. He knew Papa wasn’t angry at him, but he needed to vent his sorrow, shock and devastation at someone. Luckily for everyone involved, Papa had chosen the right person for such an onslaught.

Before I climbed the stairs, I looked over at Nana’s door.

Gone. Dead. You’ll never see her again. There’ll be no more Christmas baking. She’ll never scold Papa for being petulant anymore. England has fallen.

The seventeen steps had never been so steep, my body never so heavy, and at the same time it felt hollow. 

“Nearly there, Rosamund,” uncle Myc murmured from behind me.

I woke from my daze and realised that the shouting had stopped. In its wake came a sound so heartbreaking, it made tears flow down my cheeks. Before I opened the door, a thought hit me like a battering ram, making me lose my balance for a moment.

If Papa mourned Nana like this, he would be utterly destroyed if Dad died before him. Not even his biological family’s demise could elicit such grief from him.

***

Inside the flat, Papa clung to Dad, and it struck me how small he seemed in that moment. So lost and bereft. This was not a puzzle he could solve, or a culprit he could catch to make everything right again.

“Rosie’s home,” Dad whispered to Papa and reached for me.

I didn’t think Papa would let go of Dad, give me room, or even detect the words, but he did. My name seemed to have a magical effect on him, because he straightened, turned his pained face at me and lifted his arm to indicate that I was welcomed into his and Dad’s cocoon. We held on to each other for what felt like hours. Dad asking if we were alright, Papa muttering something under his breath, and I just clung to my parents, wordless.

Dad, always reliable in a crisis, remembered that there was another person present, and carefully entangled himself after kissing us both, guiding our arms to embrace. Papa mumbled his name questioningly.

“Just give me a few minutes, Sherlock. Take care of Rosie, yeah?”

Papa nodded and pulled me closer, cradling the back of my head, whispering my precious girland I’m so sorry you have to go through this, and she loved you like a granddaughter.

***

The days leading up to the funeral alternated between the three of us sharing memories about the core of 221 Baker Street, what we would miss most about her, and lots and lots of crying. 

Dad was our rock in all of this, despite that he grieved his former landlady too. Some nights, Papa was inconsolable, and I thought his heart would literally break. He curled up in bed and sobbed full of despair. Only Dad could hope to console him, coaxing him out of the dark place he had locked himself in.

Both me and Papa agreed that we would honour Martha Hudson on the day of the funeral. Nana’s niece, Deidre, was her only living relative, and uncle Myc assured her that we would arrange everything if she weren’t able. From what Dad told me, she was relieved, having just started her tattoo studio, and she was quite short of money after the investments. 

***

Leaving uncle Myc and his minions in charge of the ceremony, proved to be ingenious, as we all expected. Even Nana would’ve been pleased with him, I think.

It all took place at Pembroke Lodge in Richmond Park. The Grade II listed Georgian Mansion is a beautiful and tranquil place, posh, but not over the top. 

The pleasantly warm weather allowed us to go dressed without jackets and coats. To honour Nana, all of us wore something purple, her favourite colour. Even uncle Myc acquiesced to leave his black suit at home, and instead he wore a light grey three-piece-suit with a deep purple tie.

Deidre showed up with purple nail polish, her black hair in spikes, the dramatic makeup intact, purple leather trousers, and a matching jacket with a black shirt underneath. Her Doc Martens boots were bright red. She was over the moon about the venue and to what lengths we’d gone to ensure a proper farewell for her aunt.

***

We didn’t know all the mourners, but I think I spotted a few celebrities who wore gigantic sunglasses and hats to hide their identities, which obviously had the opposite effect. 

Ginny, who conducted the ceremony was a calming presence throughout, and informed the congregation that there would be one speech apart from her own, and musical elements performed by a pianist and Papa on violin.

Papa held it together through his potpourri of Nana’s favourite classical pieces. He had his eyes closed and lost himself in the music. It was heartbreakingly beautiful. Beside me Dad clasped my hand firmly and never took his eyes off Papa. Admiration, love, sorrow and grief washed over his face in quick succession. He rose when Papa lowered his bow and looked over at the coffin that was decorated with purple lilacs. I saw the moment his knees gave way, but Dad was already at his side holding him close whispering something in his ear. I went over to them to pry the violin and bow out of Papa’s limp hands and let him lean into Dad’s arms.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Dad murmured teary-eyed.

Papa’s sobbing was muffled by his face being buried in Dad’s neck. Dad’s hand cradled the back of Papa’s head like it was a delicate object made of china. Slowly, Dad led Papa back to his seat and he held him tight until it was my turn to honour my beloved Nana.

The night I decided how to do it, Dad and Papa asked if I was sure I would manage it on my own. I retorted that of course I would. I was not a child anymore. What I hadn't considered was that reading a poem out loud in my room was completely different than performing it in front of a crowd, not to mention the emotional impact this performance would have on me.

I got to my feet when Ginny gave the signal and walked over to stand beside the coffin and opened the book on the correct page. Dad and Papa noticed before I did. Something gave me away. Did the book tremble in my hands, did my legs quiver, or did my breathing start to go wild with panic? Whatever it was, they both stood, came over to me, embraced me with their backs to the onlookers to shield me.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this, Bee?” Papa asked with a thick voice filled to the brim with withheld tears.

“You don’t have to, you know. Nobody would…” 

I cut Dad off abruptly feeling the soothing effect the closeness of my parents had on me.

“I’m sure. Stay, will you?” I said quietly.

“Of course,” they retorted in unison.

***

I took a deep breath, let go of my parents and we all turned to the other mourners and I started to read with one father on each side, radiating comfort and love.

Warning

When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple  With a red hat which doesn’t go and doesn’t suit me.  And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves  And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.  I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired  And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells  And run my stick along the public railings  And make up for the sobriety of my youth.  I shall go out in my slippers in the rain  And pick flowers in other people’s gardens  And learn to spit.  You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat  And eat three pounds of sausages at a go  Or only bread and pickle for a week  And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.  But now we must have clothes that keep us dry  And pay our rent and not swear in the street  And set a good example for the children.  We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.  But maybe I ought to practice a little now?  So, people who know me are not too shocked and surprised  When suddenly I am old and start to wear purple.

Today, I will nudge you in the direction of AO3 and the end notes to give you some context

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @helloliriels @raina-at

More tags in the replies

[msfcatlover]

Duke in the Reverse!Robins AU be like…

”Eldest daughter syndrome? What eldest daughter syndrome? Nah, just because I’m the oldest does not mean I have eldest daughter syndrome. Sure, I’ve had to mediate between Damian & Bruce, or Steph & Bruce, or help certain Titans find a middle ground, but that’s just being a good leader. And yeah, I’m protective of the younger kids, but that’s just what any responsible adult in my position would do.”

*finds out one of the members of his team has such bad civilian trauma they need to straight-up quit hero work*

“Oh shit… I fucked this up. I was too focused on my own problems, how the fuck did I miss this? Okay, okay. I was already burning out trying to juggle being Gotham’s only daytime hero and single-handedly leading the Titans. I need to pick one. And find some way to make it up to Grant. Jesus fuck, how did I miss this…”

*Tim becomes Cass’s apprentice. Steph & Cass start arguing more often. Steph has her biggest fight with Bruce yet. Steph goes missing.*

*Steph dies*

“After that fight with Bruce, no one backed her up. She didn’t know anyone was supporting her. She died thinking none of us were on her side. If any one of us had actively taken her side, instead of getting distracted with our own messes, maybe this wouldn't have happened. Oh, but am I really expecting Damian or Bruce to be intelligent about feelings? Am I really expecting tact from Cass? I know them too well; it should’ve been me, shouldn’t it? I can’t believe I managed to fuck up worse than I did with Grant…”

*Luna gets taken away*

“Look at what you’ve done, Bruce! Look what you’ve fucking done! You’re tearing this family apart! We all promised to look out for her if anything happened to Steph, and you’re just going to force every single one of us to break those promises?! You’re going to rip away the last piece of Steph we had?!? Look at Dami & Cass! Look at them! You did this!”

*finds out Damian’s training for Tim to be Shadow uses all the LoA techniques he refused to use for Steph, making it borderline-through-outright abusive, almost certainly to try to drive Tim off by making him too miserable to continue*

“I. I can’t fucking believe this. I can’t… I can’t believe it took me so long to realize. Damian, nobody is happy about this, but fuck you. I thought you were trying to be better, you absolute fucking asshole! And I… I don’t even have the excuse of not knowing half of the involved parties this time, or being away, or too busy, I was just looking away because I didn’t want to think about Tim taking Steph’s mantle. I should’ve fucking stopped this the first time Tim came back from Bludhaven. God fucking dammit, how do I keep failing the kids in my care in the same fucking way, over & over again?!”

*was all the way at the other end of the room & looking in the wrong direction to have enough forewarning to actually save Tim from being shot*

“I… I… I… I’m literally the only person who could’ve fucking stopped this. I have all the training, all the abilities, but I went to refill my punch glass, and now Timmy might never walk again. I mean, absolutely blame the asshole who pulled the trigger, but Tim & I were in the same fucking room. Who would even put a hit out on Tim Wayne? There’s no way Tim doesn’t know who’s behind this, but he won’t tell me because he doesn’t trust me, because of course he doesn’t! Look at my track record! When it matters most, I let down the people I love. My parents, Grant, Steph, Tim…”

*Jason becomes Shadow.*

*The Tower fight happens.*

*Jason gets kidnapped by the Joker.*

*Bruce “dies,” and Jason runs away to have the Red Robin arc.*

*Dick only begrudgingly puts up with Duke because Duke’s rather overbearing expressions of protectiveness support are not meshing well with Dick’s “stuck on anger til I personally catch my parents’ murderer” issue*

“…If anyone needs me, I’ll be screaming in the closet.”