#spent a good chunk of time trying to figure that out

[sneaky-eel]

That Bunny!Desmond art is causing me to have very... Impure... thoughts... Especially involving his ancestors

They just want the chance to love their bunny

But Desmond knows they’re just trying to fatten him up.

[bonnvivre]

a funny thing- ch 24/25 word dump

WUAHAHAHA 4AM BABEY YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS

i’ve been cookin low and slow with this one and i mean real slow like. too slow . as in 2 weeks later whoops

this one’s a real doozy so grab a snack

FIRST PAGE ON THE GOSUKU TAG WHEN YOU SORT BY KUDOS LETS GOOOOOOO major rweiser W

———————————————

ch 24

thinking abt yuuji flying down the sidewalk and megumi becoming the equivalent of a flag whipping behind him pls yuuji not everyone can keep up 😭

fred says fuck

mmmmmm crunchy cookies i love me some egg shell

yeah with cooking, you can play around with the measurements and adjust along the way, but baking is whole different beast :[ i made creme brulee for our new year dinner, my first time baking actually, and i was terrified the entire process cus one wrong step and its over (they turned out good in the end, though i wanted to leave it in the fridge longer) 

sukuna and uraume on the same wavelength love that

daww megumi just be a kid its okay 

gojo’s nicknames for toji PLS father-fushi and fraidy-guro

hehehe he technically called sukuna pretty ,, i agree

LMAOOOOO AINT NO WAYY OFC HE SABOTAGED HIM 

i feel like toji would actually do well in getting sales (if he had the proper cookies) considering he’s “a pro at freeloading off women” which leads me to believe he’s got hella charisma . 

“Fushiguro stops just before the table, one hand balled into a fist so tight, the muscles of his arm are easy to see, flexing dangerously beneath his skin.” uwwheheheerhfbud sorry

OH SHT THE GIRLIES ARE FIGHTING YOOOOOOOO AND SUKUNA JUMPING IN FOR GOJO ???? in front of the kids in a school fundraiser is crazy lmao

pinky

gojo taking bets on who’s gonna win reminded me of mei mei betting on the gojo-sukuna fight

i had a crazy amount of secondhand embarrassment going thru that hhhhhh yknow that feeling when you just wanna curl up and cover ur eyes and you’re fighting to even look back ? yeaaaaa

“Hurting people is bad. And you’re not bad!” ohh yuuji ughhh he has no idea of what sukuna was before, that he’s done more than hurt people .. children really only see the side of their parents that they’ve allowed to show them. it’s why kids usually think the highest of them, so yuuji saying that sukuna’s not bad gets me cus he’s known and seen only the best of him. but it makes me feel gooey inside cus, while everyone else sees the former king of curses, yuuji sees his dad and when he does eventually find out, he’ll still always be his dad before anything else (does this make sense i hope it makes sense im trying to make my thoughts coherent)

oh hey they’re talking abt it !

I GASPED OH MY GOD PLEAS EOLASOE APLEAS EPLAS EPALEAPSLEAPSH NOOOOOOOOO FFGGHGBBVV HITTING MY BED GRFGHJVNGRRAAGGHHFEG

im being tortured i thinj you’re trying to kill me here this is the worst case of edging ive ever had in my life (no not like that) 

post-chapter notes:

IM ALREAYD RIOTING YASTOP BLUE BALLING ME

id read real housewives of jujutsu sorcery

————————————

ch 25

GRADE 1 ?? AS IN ONE ?? AS IN  O N E  ?? AS IN, YUUJI IS NO LONGER A PRESCHOOLER

when you said small time-skip, i thought you meant a few months later . i was wrong

aight time to update the time board: yuuji’s in first grade so he’s 6 yrs old, we’re in 2013 now (i think), gojo is 24 yrs old  23 yrs old (chap takes place during summer, bday not passed yet)

it’s 2013, he can get a 3ds now :D im gonna get him on smash bros . OR KID ICARUS UPRISING IT SHOULD BE OUT ALREADY

they should totally name the potential pet after me (jk)

OKAYYYY THATS A START HE KISSED HIM ON THE HEAD !! WE’RE GETTING SOMEWHERE :O now go lower. preferably on the li

oh yeah yeah definitely not together whatever helps you sleep at night man

im gonna need the bad bitches birthday bash one-shot someday with the way shoko’s bringing it up

the fact gojo’s heard the threat so many times before that he can finish it and brush it off

CANDY CRUSH  !!?!??

AWWWWWW THATS ADORABLE ;____; sukuna wanting to do something to surprise gojo’s first day as a teacher and yuuji suggesting to make a cake cus he knows his daddy loves sweets AND they spent the whole day prepping awawawawaw so cutee

they called on uraume for help too LOL poor them 

yuuji being a snitch HA i can’t help but think of my siblings

you can’t be serious gojo, not after that? people also don’t usually sleep and cuddle the homies cmon man

mother is mothering and mother is leading the herd (no but i love how he adapted to the role very easily, likely to prior experience)

whuh the fundraiser was last year ? am i overthinking the timeframe … ok im back after going thru the calendar that makes sense 👍 carry on wait hold on first semester of first grade ended so they’re on break ... summer break ?? unless this is going off of a different schooling system (oh yeah duh japan lol)

ohhh please let them meet mama-guro i can imagine the absolute shock on their faces trying to comprehend how someone like toji managed to marry someone like her 😭 bonus points if toji is much more softer around her too and the sheer whiplash of seeing him having ANY sort of loving side is enough to send gosuku into a spiral

“It’s exactly the type of thing Sukuna would never be caught dead wearing, which means Satoru must do all in his near-infinite power to make him wear it.” real

THESE THREE ARE RIDICULOUS LMAOOOOOO sorry kids your fathers are busy trying to one-up each other

“But, then again, these are just go-karts; how much damage could he really do?” famous last words before disaster

oh no

hey sukuna’s living life at least he’s having fun and that’s all that matters 🥰

not the pyramid projectiles

CONICAL AMMO !?$&7)-)26 MARIO KART IRL GONE WRONG oh my god its too late for this i need to sleep

OH MY GOD ?????? 

WHADDYA MEAN THEY’RE GONE ??????

post chap notes:

what just happened

no really what jusr happened

the amount of times i’ve said oh my god throughout the entire go-kart scene i was clutching my pearls

he recreates his reign in the silliest ways, all while wearing nice little red bow :3

nah i get it the entire first arc was dedicated to how messed up he was abt suguru so i understand the doubts but they’ve also near kissed multiple times .. unless they were super down with kissing the homies 

“I sure hope nothing bad has happened to them...” STOP

[pasukiyo]

I BLINKED AND SUDDENLY...

remus lupin x female!reader word count: 2,231 synopsis: insecurity kindles like a burning reminder across remus's cheeks. she deserves more than cheap flowers and a poorly-wrapped blind date with a book, but just when he begins to feel sorry for himself and makes to turn around and go back home, she catches his eye through the bookshop window. and he knows he's screwed. caught like a fish on a hook, she reels him in, and all he can do is pray that this valentine's day will be different from the rest.

…i had a valentine!

 He thinks the tips of his ears are red. 

 In a desperate attempt to hide them, Remus sifts his fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands until they cover the tips of his ears but when he blinks up at his reflection in the bookshop window, he realizes how ridiculous he looks. A curse tumbles from his lips and he shakes his head around, combing his fingers back through his tresses, hoping his hair will fall back into place in the wake. 

 Maybe he can blame it on the cold. 

 The wind is a bit nippy today after all, and he’s walked at least a couple of miles between his flat, to the florist, then back to his flat when he realized he forgot to grab her damn gift, all the way to the bookshop he stands in front of now. He hopes she can’t see him now, ruffling his hair, trying to quell the scarlet that’s bloomed across his face. 

 He feels perspiration gather along his hairline and he sighs, wiping at his forehead with the sleeve of his coat. Maybe this is stupid, he thinks to himself, peering down at the bouquet and wrapped book in his hands. He’d spent quite a lot of time picking each of these things out for her— trying to figure out her favorite color and flowers, figuring out ways to subtly ask about the books she’s read to get a better idea of her preferences while simultaneously figuring out what books she hasn’t read yet. He’s seen enough photos on Pinterest and Instagram of blind date with a books to understand the concept but he fears he doesn’t project that well— his scrappy packaging and hasty handwriting is enough to make him suddenly want to throw everything away and make the trek home to crawl in bed and sulk for the next two to three years. 

 He thinks that’s what he’ll do— a spider of shame crawls from his ears, to his cheeks, down along the column of his neck when he peers down at the gifts he’d prepared. This isn’t enough for her, he thinks. She deserves more than flowers from one of the cheapest florists he could find in the city and a book she may or may not have already potentially read, packaged in probably the shittiest wrapping job that even children wouldn’t be entirely thrilled to open on Christmas morning. 

 A wave of nausea suddenly rumbles through the pit of Remus’s stomach and he thinks he should go now before he really embarrasses himself and blows the chunks of that piece of untopped toast he scarfed down this morning. He’s about to make a break for it when suddenly he sees her, through the window of the bookshop, guiding an older man to a bookshelf. 

 And he’s fucked. 

 Remus is entranced, his feet stuck on the pavement below him as he simply watches, watches the way she speaks with her hands and even through the glass, he can see how bright her eyes shine, gleaming with passion for whatever book she must be referring the customer to. He watches the way she listens as the older man speaks, eyes transfixed, head nodding as she soaks in every word, happy to offer whatever help she can. 

 She’s so… kind. And that’s just the simple way of putting it. She’s passionate, charismatic, she’s every guy like Remus’s dream: she works at a bookshop, she likes coffee and tea, she enjoys the classics, she listens to good music, she eats avocado on her toast, she’s even in a book club! 

 She speaks about her interests with a fervor that’s hard to come by these days and she meets others’ interests with an equal amount, even if it’s something she doesn’t normally find all too intriguing. She always seems to have her special way to make people feel comfortable and despite how incredibly cheesy Remus thinks it sounds, she’s always been capable of brightening even the darkest of rooms. 

 Remus truly believes that if the sun were to vanish, she’d be enough to even put the stars to shame. 

 It’s in Remus’s trance that she notices him standing by outside the window and her face splits in a grin, so natural that he doesn’t even initially notice it’s for him. Her mouth forms his name and that’s when he realizes: oh. 

 He’s screwed now. 

 She gestures with a hand for him to come in and it’s like it’s in his program to be incapable of resisting her, because his feet practically move on autopilot, straight through the entrance of her bookshop. 

 “Remus!” She exclaims when he enters and her voice, god, her voice feels like the breath of a fireplace along his skin in the coldest of winters and he’s suddenly made aware, again, of just how red the tips of his ears are as warmth spreads across his face. 

 His heart leaps against his chest and he doesn’t know how he was able to even muster a coherent sentence, but he greets her back, albeit, rather meekly. Her smile widens and Remus thinks that the world has stopped spinning because he swears nothing moves around them when she does it, when she looks at him like that. 

 “Quite a gloomy day for what’s supposed to be one of the happiest days of the year, don’t you think?” He hears her say and he clears his throat, hoping it will snap him out of his stupor. 

 Get it together, he hisses at himself. Rotting in bed, whether you like it or not, is not a fruitful way to live out the rest of your days. 

 He turns to peer out the window. It was a rather drab and gray day, he concurs, and the wind came with a harsh chill. The conditions were certainly less than ideal, what with all the running around he’s done throughout the day. 

 “Yes,” he manages, a little awkwardly as he turns back to face her. When he does, he finds she’s eyeing the items he’s since forgotten he was even holding and suddenly, he thinks he’ll melt into a puddle of magma right then and there. 

 That, or he’ll just turn and run away until his legs can’t hold his weight anymore. 

 “How cute!” She says, nodding down at the bouquet and book. “Did you make a blind date with a book for your girlfriend?”

 Remus blinks, a little surprised. She thought he already had a girlfriend? He wonders if he should take this as a sign that maybe she didn’t feel the same way— she thinks he’s taken, after all. Is she not interested in him after all? Was he wrong to suppose that maybe she’d even give him a chance?

 His mouth opens and closes, trying and failing to give her a coherent reply, an elongated ‘uh’ emitting instead, a little dumbly. She simply blinks at him, waiting for him to reply, perhaps a little less enthusiastic than before but Remus assumes it’s because of how incredibly awkward he’s acting. 

 He presses his lips together and closes his eyes, tightening his fists around the gifts, and breathes. He’s tired of embarrassing himself, of being so incredibly self-conscious and timid that it prevents him from simply talking to someone, from making friends, from telling her how he feels. This is far from the first time he’s spoken to her and he should know by not that she’s not the kind of person to make him feel bad, whether or not she accepts or rejects him. 

 And he’s put so much thought into this. That’s got to account for something, right? Never mind how bad his handwriting or wrapping skills are or how cheap these damn flowers are— he should know by now that she’s the kind of person to value intent over expense. 

 So, he sucks in another deep breath, shakes the warmth away from his cheeks (to the best of his ability), and he takes his shot. 

 “Actually, these are for you,” he says, daring a step forward, extending his arms to present her with the gifts. She blinks down at them, eyes rounding in surprise. Remus shakes away that nagging sense of insecurity and continues. “You know, I’ve been coming here for quite awhile and you’ve always… you’ve always been so nice and I just thought… I’ve always just thought that you’re so… beautiful and I…”

 He trails off, heart pounding against his chest when she glances up at him again, meeting his eye. Her gaze is so bewitching, so heavenly, he thinks she must’ve been crafted by the gods and goddesses above, sent down to Earth solely to catch him like a fish on a hook and keep him here, enthralled by her forever. A single look from her is enough to make him want to sink to his knees and pray for just an ounce of worthiness so that he could merely be around her for even just a minute. 

 He’s completely trapped now and even though he knows she’s the kind of person who would make rejection still feel nice, he thinks he’d die right then and there on the spot if she were to refuse him, if she were to say she’s not interested, if she says there’s already someone else. 

 “…I know you said you liked these flowers so I hope you like them, sorry they’re a little… windblown,” he titters nervously as he hands them to her. “I’ve been running around incessantly all morning.”

 She takes them from him cautiously, a furrow in her brow as she brings them closer to her nose, taking in their scent. 

 “And I… I really hope you don’t already have this one,” he says, handing her the wrapped book, a little hesitantly. “I tried to find one I was sure you haven’t read. And, uh, sorry for the, uh… well,” he gestures to the pisspour wrapping skills and not to his surprise, she laughs but much to his surprise, it’s more amused than anything. 

 “‘Dark Academia, whimsical, secret societies?’” She reads his handwriting scribbled across the brown packaging  “Remus, this is…” she trails off and for a moment, Remus’s stomach sinks and he really feels like he’s another to blow chunks of toast all over the place. 

 Just then, her face splits into the most marvelous smile he thinks he’s ever laid eyes on, the entire universe put to shame by this girl, this beautiful, enchanting girl. And that smile is all for him. 

 “…this is the most thoughtful gift anyone’s ever given me, I think,” she continues with a breathy laugh, curling her fingers around the ends of the wrapping paper. “You don’t mind if I…?”

 “No, go ahead,” Remus says with a breathy laugh of his own. He watched as she tears through the paper, pulling the paperback out of the wrappings, her face— if it was at all possible— glowing brighter than he’s ever seen it before. 

 “The Starless Sea?” She says in more of a shriek, meeting his gaze again as she hugs the book to her chest. “I’ve been meaning to pick this one up for ages! How did you know?”

 He didn’t, but he’s more than relieved to have been the cause of that devastatingly pretty look upon her face now. 

 “You recommended The Secret History by Donna Tartt that one time to me a few months back and told me about how much you loved it,” he replies, resting his elbows on the counter, a newfound air of ease around him. “It was amazing, by the way. I immediately began searching for books like it. I’d hoped you hadn’t gotten to this one yet.”

 He thinks her eyes are beginning to gloss over and he blinks, dipping his brow, afraid she might cry for a moment. He yearns to see that smile of hers again, but before he can ask her what the matter is, she circles around the counter and practically leaps at him, locking her arms around his neck in a hug that he nearly recoils from out of instinct. It’s so shocking— being so close to her all at once, to be touching her and for her to be the one initiating but he breaks himself out of his stupor again, resting his hands on the small of her back, afraid to lose her touch once he has it. 

 After a moment, she pulls away just enough to peer up at him and Remus thinks that even if she were to reject him now, it would’ve all been worth it just for her to look at him the way she does now. He feels his lip tremble as she brings a hand up to his hair, the tips of her fingers brushing against the tips of his ears. 

 “Your ears are red,” she notes and he screws his lips together, swallowing down the boulder-sized lump at the base of his throat. She laughs and for a moment, a silence falls and he doesn’t realize she’s blinking up at him expectantly until she breaks it. “Aren’t you supposed to say, ‘will you be my Valentine?’”

 Remus blinks back at her, feeling the corners of his mouth twitch but he doesn’t muster the courage to repeat it. She grins again, her warm knuckles dragging along his cheek. 

 “Because my answer is undoubtedly yes.”

a/n: FINALLY GOT AROUND TO WRITING A VALENTINE'S DAY FIC THIS YEAR! i hope you all enjoy! wrote this all in one sitting so not sure of its quality... but nevertheless, i hope you enjoy shy, fluffy remus <3

💌 if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply to let me know! it would be such a great valentine's day gift 🥰🫶

TAGLIST!

@pinktree

@iamthejam

@strangerfromketterdam

@burns-in-the-sun

@cancelledkaley

@d3adp00ls

@all-in-the-fandoms

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

on tumblr lot more people know about it which great! that improve life of all AAC users. but pretty much with anything disability/developmental disability space on social media (which need certain amount of cognitive/intellectual & language abilities be on even if have support), good majority you see be teen & adult people who already literate learn language via speech n write *first* n then *independently* learn AAC base on it *later*.

especially symbol based AAC, but all AAC, is new system n hard n take long time learn even when you literate & not moderately severely cognitively disabled. but also, “literate teen/adult independent learn AAC” not at all full face of AAC user community.

as in like. experience of theirs. not universal. independently motivated & able to look up different AAC options different AAC apps, compare n contrast. download app n immediately know how to use, or able figure out by self. first time use app n may be clunky n slow, but make sentence on first try. need learn AAC, but most of that learning is for where words are (if button based), how exist as AAC user in public with confidence, etc. those all valid but not true for everyone who need AAC, especially not developmentally disabled children (& some adults) with complex communication needs.

most developmentally disabled children (n some adults) w complex communication needs who need AAC, can’t just hand them tablet with symbol based AAC app or text to speech AAC app n then wait for magic. many of them developmentally delayed in way, not taught in way that fit them (e.g. gestalt language processors), n their language abilities behind peers, so they can’t read, can’t spell, can’t grammar, etc.

some of them need learn where word is not by read word, sometimes not even by understand symbol, instead is by other people press button n hear sound n associate that with meaning n location on AAC n symbol associate with it. in other words, they learning language alongside AAC.

for some their learn process look like, learn how use AAC say one word. n then much later, try make two word message, “want food” “go school.” “two word message” incredibly common goal for many these developmentally disabled children, teens, n even adults, that is something rare n truly extraordinary for that person that need be celebrated.

for others it look like learn by phrase (gestalt), then slowly break it down into smaller phrase n chunks n finally single words.

many of them babble (click random/seemingly random buttons on high tech device, stim with it, etc). but ultimately, won’t be able learn all by self. need be taught, see you accidentally spill water n crying, maybe you “feel” “sad”, n when that happen you “need” “help” from adult. need learn AAC by adults around them constantly model with it, constantly use it in conversation, show them how use. because they learning language along side it.

but also some of them don’t know what this thing in front of them (AAC… device, low tech boards or picture cards, etc) is. don’t know what communication is or you should do that. don’t know people exist who you should communicate to & with. heard many parents n SLP say they try model all time, try all kind of stuff, but child just not seem interested in it, don’t look at it, don’t touch it, don’t use it.

people who use AAC, not all them struggle with only speech. some them struggle with language, with intellectual/cognitive. some of them very developmentally delayed.

n some people, too disabled learn or use AAC. yeah, they exist.

for people who cannot use / cannot only use speech to be understood, AAC can be life changing. but is so much more complex thing. AAC still not as widely used n accepted n properly taught n supported as should, some parents n professionals n schools still many pushback n refuse. but sometimes answer to “have you tried AAC for them” is “yes, but they need long time n lots help to learn n we not very far yet even though spent long time on it” or “yes, but they simply not show interest even after constant model” or “god, wish can, but insurance only cover if show some amount of communication competence n ability use AAC, while only give 1 month trial, which simply not enough time” (wide spread thing that happen) or “yes. many types. it not work.”

for many AAC users & AAC user-to-be, it not as simple as “be handed AAC n check back in while they figure out by self”

[gatorbites-imagines]

Anakin flirting with m reader and ending making out? Pls

Anakin Skywalker x Male reader

Headcanons

You are a non-jedi general during the Clone wars, cuz yall lost focus and had a consensual workplace relationship.

This turned out a lot sweeter than i had planned ngl.

You were a general during the clone wars. You weren’t anything special, you couldn’t use the force, you weren’t from some rich or special background, your name didn’t carry any weight. The only gift you seemed to have, was your inability to be affected by the force. All in all, you weren’t anything to write home about.

Of course, that’s also what made you so damn useful in your role. No one kept an eye on you, everyone underestimated you, you could get away with so much because to most people in charge, you didn’t exist. You not being able to be manipulated by the force, also made you extremely skilled in what you did, without anyone seeming to notice.

Your feat of climbing the military ranks in leaps and bounds only got you mild acknowledgments, and a handful of attempted manipulations from some people in power. But when they realized you didn’t bend, but you weren’t important enough to get rid of, they left you alone.

At 22 you had reached the rank of senior general in the republic army, placing you above even a good chunk of the jedi you fought against, which was also why you had been placed with the 501st, to apparently teach their general the basics.

Anakin and Obi-Wan had both been unsettled by the fact that they couldn’t sense you in the force the first time you met. Every being, even the nonliving, had a presence. But you didn’t. it was like you didn’t exist.

That took quite some time to get used too, especially to someone as force sensitive as Anakin. But over time you two started getting along, and though it took him some time and a lot of grumbling, Anakin did learn quite a lot from you.

The flirting had been subtle in the beginning, or as subtle as Anakin could be. From getting your help on reports and readings he just “couldn’t understand”, to getting you to help him stretch after he had spent hours going through his katas.

You weren’t oblivious, you couldn’t be with the life you lived, so of course you noticed his attempts at flirting. It was endearing in a way. To see someone who was supposed to have no connection to people like that, seem so drawn to you.

It also left you feeling uneasy in a way, as you had never really had much time to relationships or even flirting for that matter, having spent all these years making something of yourself.

Alongside the flirting you two became good friends, and you had even signed yourself up to stay with his platoon, even when your training was done. This was also where you learned he had had a thing with Padme, but they realized they were better as friends a while ago.

When you shared your own lack of experience, it seemed to boost some of Anakin’s confidence, seeing as you both were on new ground. And like with anything else, he took to it with gusto.

The fact that you never turned him down or rejected him, sometimes even laughing and playing along, only made Anakin try even harder. It was cute, to see him trying his best to woo you in a subtle and less noticeable way, seeing as he was still a jedi and it wasn’t actually allowed.

The 501st knew though. Of course they knew, and when Ahsoka came around she figured it out very fast, and she most likely took up the role as hype man and background support.

Your flirting became part of your dynamic, it was just something that you two did, which to outsiders was just seen as banter to keep the spirits up.

It also didn’t go past flirting for a long time, seeing as you guys were always surrounded by people. And being besides Anakin didn’t let you slip into the shadows like you were used too, since he would glow so brightly.

The need for privacy was what had you two slinking off to the side during one of the nights in camp, the platoon having settled down on a planet and waiting for their next orders. Anakin and you had decided to wander off, settling somewhere nearby, but far enough away to get some time alone together.

There might also have been a bottle of alcohol in your coat. It was nowhere near enough to get either of you drunk, especially with the force helping clear it out of Anakin’s system quicker than average folk. But it was enough to loosen up and get comfortable.

Your normal banter of flirting was constant, but as the buzz settled it became something softer and somehow hotter, the feelings growing thick in the air and noticeable enough that even you, who was as force sensitive as a rock if not lesser, could sense it.

Anakin must have made some corny pass at you, that cocky grin on his lips and his hair brushed back and out of his face, letting you truly see his handsome features. Something came over you, later you would blame the force, but it just felt right.

Leaning in and closing the gap between you seemed to have shocked Anakin, his eyes wide before he seemingly melted against you, arms wrapping around your neck and torso and pulling you even closer.

The kiss was far from the most skilled or pleasant, but your shared lack of experience was fully made up for by enthusiasm.

Anakin would pant and grunt as the kiss turned steamier, lips parting and tongues rubbing together, spit gathering at the edges of your mouths and a line of drool running down his chin. His eyes were shut tightly in concentration, his brows furrowed and hands grasping as your coat.

You had no idea how long you two were laying there, kissing like two lovesick fools from some romance novel. Hands were grasping and exploring, but never going further than that. Now wasn’t the time to go any wilder than what you were doing, but the possibility of it was enough to make the kiss even better.

When you pulled away, Anakin leaned after you with a soft noise, bottom lip pouting out and red from the insistent kissing, his eyes cracking open to look at you with the softest look you had ever seen from him.

“Not all of us can hold our breath for hours” you snarked with a soft chuckle, since you knew he could, thanks to the force. Your jedi grumbled, but tucked his head under your chin, still clutching you close and brushing his lips against your neck.

Neither of you spoke for a while, just holding onto each other. You found yourself brushing your fingers through his hair, Anakin almost arching into the touch like an affection starved tooka, a sight that only made you smile more.

“I like you a lot” he mumbled, glancing up at you through his lashes with that insistent determined, but somehow still soft and warm look in his eyes. Just seeing him like that made you wanna kiss him again, to devour him whole.

“I think I like you too” you replied, an upwards tick to your lips as you pulled him close again. Even without the ability to feel the force, you could still feel it flare, like the sun rising in the morning. It would be no surprise if Ahsoka knew exactly what had happened, and the padawan would be confronting you guys about it later.

But right now all that mattered was laying there with Anakin, and maybe stealing a couple more of those deep insistent and longing kisses, since he sounded so pretty when you did. You guys could deal with everything else later.

[pastorpresent]

part 2 to this, but it's not necessary reading to understand this:) tw for panic attacks

-

Logan is going to find every motherfucking TVA agent and rip them methodically into a hundred little chunks, which he's then going to serve to dogpool for her lunch.

He's just got to find Wade and get out of this stupid fucking warehouse first - and seriously, dingy old warehouse for an evil fucking lair? Get creative for once, jesus christ.

The thing was, this mission was supposed to be the definition of easy. The TVA just wanted them to catch some stupid deadpool variant, slap their cuffs on him and be done with it. Hell, Wade had even been looking up nearby lunch spots because they were so convinced they'd be done for then.

They weren't. The variant thing was a trap - which somehow completely went over the TVA's heads - and the place was actually an experimentation warehouse for mutants. They were baited there like fish to a hook, and Wade had been grabbed before either of them could fully grasp what was happening.

Wade was grabbed - and Logan was loosing his god damn mind, because he'd seen the uncharacteristic flicker of fear over the mercs face when they realised what this place was, watched Wade thumb through the paperwork with a tight expression, unsettlingly silent.

He understood. He'd been there, quite literally, but he had the small mercy of not remembering it so completely. His time spent chained to an experimentation table was mercifully shorter than Wades, and he only recalled brief flashes of it.

Wade had told him one night after a few too many drinks that he remembered his weeks in that warehouse vividly. Every second of it was etched into his brain like a branding, and if Logan had known that this mission would take them anywhere even slightly resembling that trauma he would've told the TVA to stick their mission so far up their ass they start choking on it.

He didn't, though, and now he was stuck hiding outside trying to figure out a way to get in there and grab Wade without getting caught himself. He needed back up, realistically.

It stung to call the X-Men. He hated doing it, because seeing them in this universe... it just reminded him of what he'd failed to protect. Of the team he'd essentially killed.

He'd gladly suck all of that up and toss his baggage aside if it meant helping Wade, though.

Even with their help (and their insistence on cuffing instead of murder) It still took a good half hour for them to clear the place.

Logan was growing antsy. He'd seen the sideways looks from Storm and Rogue as his murders grew more brash and violent, prioritising wiping the bastards out as rapidly as possible over doing so in a way which was... more composed and less bloody.

He'd killed about thirty. The team had cuffed and sedated the other lucky twenty, and had taken the... test subjects somewhere safe. Most of them were mutilated beyond looking like recognisable people, half alive, and honestly Logan thought they'd be better off just being put down and freed from their agony, but he didn't voice that. He didn't have time for a morals debate, not when the bastards have had Wade for almost a fucking hour.

"Wade!"

He was dipping in and out of every curtain, trying to find the idiot. His booming voice was echoing through the entire place, and so wherever he was he mustn't be conscious, or verbally able to respond.

Finally he pulled back a curtain and found him.

He was in a glass cylinder, strapped down with thick leather bindings, and was gasping for breath periodically as his skin burned.

An oxygen deprivation machine. The same type that gave Wade his mutation in the first place.

Those fucking sick bastards. He hoped that the team had gotten those men they cuffed the fuck out of here or Logan was going to chop off their fingers and make them eat them, then beat them to the point they were begging for death, and then he'd beat them some more and let them die from blunt force trauma, slowly and in agony on a dirty warehouse floor.

He surged forward, using his claws to bust holes in the machine, allowing immediate air flow while he figured out how to get the damn thing open.

He figured it out, the lid lifting, but something was wrong.

Wade was still gasping for air, his now free hands scratching at his neck desperately.

"Wade, breathe," Logan ordered a little harshly, grabbing the younger man's shoulders.

Big mistake apparently.

Wade was up in an instant, grabbing a nearby scalpel and driving it harshly into Logan's shoulder, his teeth bared and the air missing his usual cry of 'baby knife'.

"Wade, what the fuck are you-"

He was cut off by the medical scissors being thrown at his face, embedding deep into his cheek just below his eye, and fuck that hurt.

"Wade-" he grabbed him, trying to stop him from reaching for any more makeshift weapons, but Wade punched him hard in the face, driving the scissors deeper, and then proceeded to kick him in the balls.

Logan grunted at the impact, barely staying upright and releasing his grip in the momentary recovery.

Wade grabbed a gun from the side and started shooting recklessly, and Logan was painfully aware that some of the X-Men currently standing just a few flimsy curtains away were not as bullet proof as what he was.

He dove atop of Wade, tackling him to the floor, hissing with every bullet that the merc emptied into his torso.

"Wade, stop!"

"Get the fuck off me! Let me go!" Wade screamed, actually screamed at the top of his lungs, his breathing rapid and eyes hard but full of suffocating fear as he thrashed and struggled.

Logan felt horrible. He felt like the shittiest person on the planet, because Wade clearly had no idea what was happening in his panic, didn't recognise Logan or remember the circumstances, and he was terrified. Terrified of continued torture that was sure to come in his mind if Logan 'caught him', and he had no clue what to do.

"Wade it's me, alright? It's Logan. I'm trying to help you."

"I don't- get the fuck off me! Please! Just let me go!"

Wade was sobbing and begging, and from the grip Logan had of his lithe body he could feel his breathing growing shallower.

"I will, bub. I will, but I need you to put the gun down, alright?" Logan said carefully.

He wasn't going to let Wade come out of this having killed somebody he cared about accidently. He wasn't letting him be burdened by that guilt.

"I- I don't- please," Wade sobbed, and Logan swallowed thickly.

"Gun down, Wade," he repeated firmly, and this time he felt the barrel leave his torso and clatter onto the ground.

He continued to pin Wade down with just one arm as he grabbed the gun and tucked it into the back of his jeans.

"Good boy. That's good, thank you. I'm gonna let you up now, bub. Think you can stop trying to kill me for a second so we can talk?"

Wade whimpered softly, and nodded once in response.

Logan eased up on him gradually, rising to his feet and offering out a hand to help Wade do the same.

The younger man didn't take it, scrambling up by himself on shaky legs, taking a few stumbling steps backwards away from Logan.

That stung a little, but he understood. Wade clearly still didn't grasp who he was, and it was probably a very natural reaction to want distance between yourself and your conceived captor who had you pinned to the ground moments ago.

"Look at me, ok? You know me, bub. You know I'm not here to hurt you."

"I- I just want you to let me go. I just want to go home to Vanessa, please."

And maybe that one stung... a lot, more so than any of the sharp objects lodged into his body right now. He often worried about what his existence in this universe meant for Wade. He worried him being here, some sort of unnatural and inconvenient prescence, made it so Wade felt he couldn't truly go after what he wanted. A life with the girl, a few kids, a decent home.

Instead he got stuck with Logan, an alcoholic mess who could barely tolerate basic human interaction most days, and he knew Wade would argue that it was actually vice versa - that Logan was the one stuck with him - but it just wasn't true. Not when Wade was the one with a life he imposed on.

That day with Vanessa, when he'd just almost killed Wade from his own stupidity, rang clear in his head.

('You almost killed him, Logan! He could be dead right now because of you!' Vanessa screamed, voice thick with emotion.

Logan couldn't even bring himself to disagree, or defend himself.

'I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. You know I didn't mean it,' he stressed, staring at Wade's limp body on the couch, his torso wrapped with blood stained bandages.

She looked at him too, and for a painful few moments, there was just heavy silence. It felt like a boot hovering over them, waiting to drop.

'You know, ever since you... appeared here, bad shit has happened. Wade's not himself, because he spends so much of his time on you. He's always in danger trying to drag your sorry ass to safety. It's not fair.'

The boot dropped, and squished him whole.)

"We can. I'll take you to her, but you need to settle down first, bub. Look at me?" Logan said, taking the tiniest of steps closer.

Wade didn't move back, which he took as a win, and he did finally stop his rapid searching to look at him.

"Good. Good job, think you can try match my breathing?"

Another step forward, this one intentionally impossible to avoid noticing, just to gauge Wade's response.

He looked uneasy still but didn't move, and nodded minutely.

Logan breathed in and out slowly, intentionally exaggerated and verbally guiding Wade through it.

It took several minutes, but eventually after calming down considerably, the confusion seemed to evaporate alongside the panic.

"Good boy, again, ok? 1...2...3...4.... exhale-"

"Logan?"

He could've just about collapsed with fucking relief. For a minute or two, he was growing worried that the temporary confusion and amnesia was from more than just the panic attack and the torture chamber. That those bastards had done something to erase his memories just like Stryker had done to him.

"Yeah, it's me, bub," he sighed, shoulders deflating.

"What- what happened?! They hurt you?" Wade hissed, marching into his space and pulling out the scalpel. He reached for the scissors but Logan grabbed his wrist to stop him, opting to ease those out himself.

"Well, you could say that," Logan shrugged, and Wade's brows knotted together, until it seemed the events of the last ten minutes hit him and he gasped, stumbling back and away from him.

Logan didn't know exactly what came over him. Maybe he just couldn't stand the idea of Wade slipping away from him again so soon, even on the most basic physical level.

He filled the space between them, grabbing Wade by his shirt and yanking him forward into a tight hug.

"I hurt you, I fucking shot you-"

"Isn't the first time, won't be the last. Don't you fucking apologise to me, you idiot - you can shove your apologies into that smart ass mouth of yours and swallow 'em," Logan warned, and Wade laughed, but it quickly dissolved into a muffled sob, his hands coming up to fist the back of Logan's shirt desperately.

"They- they-"

"Are gone. It's done. You're safe, unlike those fuckers at the TVA the next time I see them," he growled, and Wade let out another watery laugh, hiding his face away in Logan's neck.

"Take me home?"

"Glady, bub."

[darylslittlebitch]

meeting twd characters for the first time (x fem!reader)

characters: daryl, rick, negan, glenn, carl, maggie and michonne.

writer's note: twd fandom just doesn’t age, man. no matter how many years pass, it still hits different every damn time. a few days ago, i started rewatching the series for the eleventh time (yeah, i’ve got issues, i know), and i was craving some good imagines… but guess what? i found nothing with all my faves together. so, you know what? i took matters into my own hands. if no one’s gonna feed me, i’ll fill tumblr myself with imagines of the walking dead. consider this my way of keeping the hype alive. now, go survive the apocalypse, you filthy survivors. request are open! ;)

daryl

The forest seemed to close in around you. You ran aimlessly, your lungs burning and your legs trembling, but you couldn't stop. The guttural sounds of the walkers dragged behind you, each growl getting closer, each dry footstep on the leaves proving there was no escape.

"I can't… I can't…" you thought, feeling your strength abandon you.

Your chest rose and fell frantically, and the branches scratched your skin. Warm blood dripped from a cut on your arm, but you had no time to worry about it. You were alone, defenseless, and had no idea what to do. You had always depended on others—your father, your brother, anyone willing to protect you. But now… now there was no one.

A louder growl, way too close, made you stumble and fall to your knees. The impact shook your entire body, pain shooting through every exhausted muscle.

"No…" you sobbed, feeling tears spill over. "Please, no…"

When you lifted your gaze, you saw it. The nearest walker, just a few feet away, its jaw hanging loose, rotten flesh peeling off in chunks. Its empty eyes stared straight at you, hungry, and its bony fingers reached forward.

"I'm going to die here…"

You curled into yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. There was nothing left to do.

Then, you heard a sharp whistle. Something pierced through the walker's skull, dropping it instantly like a sack of putrid meat.

You opened your eyes just in time to see someone emerging from the trees—a lean man, long unkempt hair, a crossbow still raised, and a serious expression on his face.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice rough and firm.

You blinked, trying to process what had just happened. "W-what?"

"Don't just sit there," he grunted, quickly approaching and grabbing your arm to pull you up. His grip was firm but not harsh. "More of those sons of bitches are around."

You tried to walk, but your legs wouldn’t cooperate. "I can't…" you murmured, panic tightening around your chest.

"Yeah, you can," he insisted, practically dragging you along. "I ain't carrying you."

You barely managed to move, but he never let go. He guided you through the trees with quick, sure steps, like he knew every inch of the forest. You could hear the growls fading behind you little by little until, finally, silence settled.

"It’s over," he muttered, finally letting go. You collapsed to the ground, your heart pounding violently in your chest.

"W-what was that?" you stammered, struggling to catch your breath.

"The end of the world," he answered bluntly, shrugging.

"Thank you…" you whispered.

He nodded, as if there was no need to say anything else. Then, after a long silence, he added, "You got somewhere to stay?"

You shook your head, feeling a sharp sting of shame.

The man let out a heavy sigh, running a hand down his face, as if deciding whether you were worth the trouble.

"Alright," he finally said. "I can take you to my people… if you promise not to screw it up."

It didn’t sound like the kindest offer, but it was the best thing you’d heard in days.

"I promise," you said quickly.

He looked you up and down, as if trying to figure out just how useless you might be. But instead of saying anything, he simply extended his hand.

"I'm Daryl."

You took his hand, still shaking. It was rough, covered in scars, with the firmness of someone who had spent his life surviving.

"Thank you, Daryl…"

He nodded again and, before turning to lead you through the woods once more, he murmured:

"Don’t wander off again."

rick

The sun was beginning to set when you saw him for the first time.

A man, looking exhausted but alert, was walking down the road with a backpack on his shoulders and a revolver ready to fire. He moved with the confidence of someone who knew what he was doing, attentive to every shadow and every sound. You followed him from a distance, crouching among the bushes lining the road. You didn’t know who he was, but something about him told you he carried valuable things.

For the past few weeks, you had eaten only the scraps you found lying around, and you couldn’t keep going like this. Desperation had pushed you to do things you never thought you’d do… and this was one of them.

When the man stopped in front of an abandoned car, he pulled out a small bag of canned food and stuffed it into his backpack. He couldn’t have much more, but it would be enough to keep you alive for a few days.

You waited until he stepped away from the car and then slipped silently behind him.

“Drop the backpack,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

The man turned slowly, raising his hands just a few inches. His blue eyes, cold as steel, locked onto yours.

“Don’t do this,” he warned calmly.

“I said drop the backpack.” You kept the knife steady, though your hand was sweating.

“You don’t want this,” he insisted. “You don’t look like a killer.”

His words made you grip the knife’s handle tighter. What does this guy know about me?

“Drop it,” you demanded, firmer this time.

With an expression of pure resignation, he let the backpack fall to the ground.

“The gun too,” you added.

His jaw tensed, but he obeyed, placing his revolver on the ground with a soft clank.

You quickly crouched to grab both things, never taking your eyes off him. You were just starting to rise when you heard it—

Gunshots.

First one. Then several, getting closer and closer. You froze, staring at the horizon.

A car was speeding toward you, weaving between the remains of abandoned vehicles. You saw at least three silhouettes inside, one of them leaning out the window with a rifle in hand.

“Shit!”

The shot passed so close you could feel the wind whistling past your ear. Fear paralyzed you—you didn’t know whether to run or drop to the ground. But before you could do anything, you felt a brutal impact on the back of your knee.

You screamed and collapsed to the ground.

“What the hell—?!”

Then you understood: Rick had knocked you down just in time to keep the bullet from hitting you.

He was already on the ground and without thinking, you reached into your jacket, pulled out the gun you had stolen from him just seconds ago, and tossed it back to him.

Rick caught it mid-air, turned in an instant, and fired twice at the car. The driver lost control, and the vehicle crashed into one of the abandoned cars on the road.

“Move!” Rick growled, grabbing your arm and dragging you with him.

You both approached the crashed car with weapons ready. One of the guys inside tried to stumble out, but Rick didn’t hesitate—he shot him in the head without a second thought.

Another man, bulkier, reached for a pistol that had fallen to the ground, but you saw him first. Without thinking, you fired. The bullet hit him in the shoulder, and he dropped to his knees.

Rick finished him off without a second glance.

The silence that followed was overwhelming.

You breathed heavily, your chest rising and falling frantically. Everything had happened too fast, and adrenaline still burned through your veins.

Rick, wasting no time, climbed into the crashed car. The door creaked as he opened it, quickly scanning the interior.

“The keys are still in it,” he murmured. Then he turned to you. “Get in.”

“I can’t go with you,” you said, trying to sound firm.

Rick got out of the car, walked over to you, and looked you straight in the eyes.

“Do you know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t given me my gun back?” he asked quietly. “You’d be dead.”

You couldn’t answer. You knew he was right.

“Get in the car,” he ordered, this time more serious. “I’m not in the mood to argue.”

You were surprised at how quickly your legs moved to obey.

You both got in, and the engine roared to life. As the car moved forward, you felt Rick’s gaze on you.

“Why did you give me my gun back?” he finally asked.

You shrugged, unsure how to explain it. “I guess… I trusted you.”

Rick scoffed, as if that was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard.

“Don’t make that mistake again,” he warned. But despite the harshness of his words, there was something in his eyes… something that made you feel like you wouldn’t regret trusting him.

negan

Night had fallen hours ago, but you kept moving through the shadows, your heart pounding against your chest like a frantic drum.

You had been running since you escaped the small group of scavengers who had tried to trap you on the road. Three men—filthy, armed, and too confident that you wouldn’t get away. But they hadn’t counted on you being fast… though now, they were hunting you like an animal.

“I can’t keep this up…” you thought, gasping for air as your legs threatened to give out. But giving up was not an option.

You hid behind an overturned bus, pressing a hand against your chest in a desperate attempt to calm your breathing. That’s when you saw it: a small camp, lit by torches. Armed men stood at the entrance, chatting with an air of confidence that was almost insulting.

“They don’t exactly look friendly…” you thought, but what other choice did you have?

You stumbled out of your hiding spot, your steps unsteady on the gravel.

“Stop right there!” one of the guards shouted, immediately raising his weapon.

“Please!” You lifted both hands, trying not to seem like a threat. “I just… need help.”

The man hesitated for a second, but just as he seemed about to say something, a voice rose from inside the camp:

“What the hell is going on here?”

The voice was deep, rough, carrying a casual indifference that didn’t match the tension in the air.

The man who stepped out of the camp looked like he belonged to another world. Tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a leather jacket that gleamed under the firelight. His beard was perfectly trimmed, and his smile… that lopsided, cocky, arrogant smile froze you in place.

“And what are you?” he asked, stopping in front of you with his hands on his hips. “A gift? Or a goddamn spy?”

“I’m neither,” you answered, your voice still unsteady. “I’m just… running away.”

Negan let out a low, genuine but mocking laugh.

“Running away?” he repeated, tilting his head. “Well, sweetheart, you came to the right place… because no one messes with me or mine.”

“Please,” you insisted. “I just… need a place to stay for the night.”

Negan stepped closer, invading your personal space as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He smelled of leather, gunpowder, and something else… something thick, masculine, that made you swallow hard.

“And what do I get out of letting you in?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous. “Because in this world, princess, nothing is free.”

“I…” You hesitated, realizing you were stepping into a game he controlled completely. “I can work. I can… clean, cook, whatever you need.”

Negan let out another chuckle, softer this time.

“You think I need a cook?” His smirk widened as his eyes roamed over you, evaluating you like a puzzle he was trying to solve.

“How about…” he leaned in even closer, his face dangerously near yours, “you give me my gun?”

You frowned, confused.

“Your what…?”

But before you could react, his hand slid to your side, yanking away the pistol you had stolen from the scavengers.

“This one?” he murmured, lifting it in front of your eyes.

You froze.

“You know,” he said, spinning the gun skillfully between his fingers, “I like people with guts… but I also like them to know their damn place.”

He took a step back, still smirking.

“Tell me, princess…” he pointed the gun at you, though now it belonged to him again. “Are your little friends still on your tail?”

The sound of footsteps and voices in the distance answered for you.

Negan clicked his tongue in fake disappointment.

“What a mess…” he muttered, and then, in a swift move, grabbed your arm.

“What the hell are you doing?!” you exclaimed, trying to break free.

“I’m saving your ass,” he replied as if it were obvious. “Now stay behind me… and if you move without me telling you to, sweetheart, I swear I’ll tie you to a goddamn chair.”

You followed him, unable to process how quickly things had turned.

By the time the men chasing you arrived, Negan was already waiting for them.

“Well, well…” he drawled, casually resting the pistol on his shoulder. “Looking for someone? Because if so, I’m afraid this little lady already belongs to me.”

“Give us what she stole,” one of the men growled, aiming a shotgun.

Negan chuckled softly.

“Really? You’re pointing that thing at me?” Negan tilted his head, his smirk turning even more dangerous. “Look, buddy… if you’re gonna have the balls to threaten me, you’d better know how to shoot.”

And before the guy could react, Negan raised his gun and shot him in the leg.

“Shit!” the man yelled, collapsing to his knees.

The other two didn’t wait to fire, but Negan’s men were already prepared. Everything happened so fast that you barely had time to react before the camp fell silent again.

Negan turned back to you, that satisfied smirk still on his face.

“Guess you owe me one,” he said, tucking his pistol back into his belt.

“Guess I do…” you admitted, still breathless.

“Well, princess…” He stepped closer again, this time leaning in until his warm breath brushed your face. “I hope you’re good at cleaning up blood… because you just got yourself a job.”

And with that cocky, lethal smile, you knew you had just gotten involved with someone who could either save you… or destroy you.

glenn

The gun’s barrel pressed heavily against your temple, your finger trembling on the trigger.

There was no reason to keep going. You had run, fought, screamed until your voice was gone. But the world had already taken everything from you. Your family, your friends, the promises of a future that would never come. All that was left was you—a ghost clinging to a thread of existence that had long stopped mattering.

The wind blew gently through the trees, stirring the dead leaves around you. You were alone. Or so you thought.

"Hey!"

The voice made your shoulders tense. Your eyes lifted, and there he was, standing a few meters away. A young man, his face filled with concern, his lips slightly parted as if he were trying to decide what to say. His hands were raised in a gesture of peace.

"Wait. Don’t do it."

You blinked, surprised. You hadn’t expected anyone to appear—especially not someone who seemed… genuinely worried.

"Go away." Your voice was rough, broken.

He shook his head, taking a cautious step toward you.

"I can’t do that."

You gritted your teeth, your knuckles white as you held the gun.

"Why do you care?"

The man exhaled slowly, as if choosing his words carefully.

"I don’t know you. I don’t know what you’ve been through. But I know what it’s like to feel alone. I know what it’s like to think there are no more options." His dark eyes held a burning intensity. "And I also know that even when it seems like there’s nothing beyond this moment, there’s always something. Something worth staying for."

Your throat tightened.

"My family is dead," you whispered. "I watched them die. I couldn’t save them. I can’t save myself."

Glenn swallowed hard. He looked nervous, but he didn’t look away.

"I lost my family too." His voice dropped, raw and honest. "Not in the same way, but… they’re gone. And every day, I wonder if it would make a difference if I disappeared too."

Your breath shook.

"And?"

"And… I found out that it does. That even when you think no one cares, someone does. That even when you feel like you can’t go on, there’s something—someone—who needs you to stay."

The metal against your skin felt heavier.

Glenn took another step forward.

"Don’t let this world decide for you," he said softly but firmly. "Don’t let it win."

Your hand trembled, the gun lowering just slightly.

"I… I don’t know how to keep going."

Glenn nodded slowly.

"Then let me help you."

And with infinite patience, he extended his hand to you.

For a moment, you hesitated. But then the tears came—hot and heavy—and you let go of the gun. Glenn took it carefully, as if it were something fragile.

And then you collapsed.

You couldn’t remember the last time someone had held you like this—with strong, warm arms, with a presence that didn’t demand anything in return. Glenn didn’t say anything as you sobbed against his chest, as your fingers clung desperately to his shirt. He just held you, letting you release all the pain you had carried for so long.

After a while, when your breathing steadied, Glenn whispered:

"Come on. There’s a safe place. I won’t promise it’s perfect, but… you’ll be with people who’ll help you keep going."

You didn’t know what the future held. But in that moment, as Glenn offered you his support without expecting anything in return, you felt that maybe—just maybe—you could learn to live again.

carl

The cold seeped into your bones, even through your tattered jacket. The night air was thick, heavy, as if every breeze carried the stench of death. You didn’t know how many walkers had been following you, but you could hear them. Their guttural growls and dragging footsteps kept you on edge.

You had to leave your backpack behind when you realized they were catching up. Now, all you had left was the knife you gripped with trembling fingers.

“Please…” you whispered to yourself, not even sure what you were asking for. Maybe for someone to find you. Maybe for all of this to just be a bad dream.

And then you saw him.

A few meters ahead, a figure moved swiftly between the trees. You weren’t sure whether to feel relieved or even more afraid. Dangerous people were everywhere in this world… but if you had any chance of getting out alive, you had to take the risk.

“Hey!” you called out softly, afraid of both the walkers and the possibility that this person might decide to kill you instead of help you.

The boy turned, already pulling out a gun and aiming it at you. He froze for a second, evaluating you.

He wore an eyepatch over his right eye and a sheriff’s hat that was too big for him, but what stood out the most was the firmness in his expression. His clear eyes studied you with a mix of distrust and determination.

“Are you alone?” he asked.

“Yes,” you said without thinking, too desperate to lie.

The growls grew louder. The boy glanced at the path you had come from and frowned.

“Come with me,” he said suddenly, turning without waiting for an answer.

“W-what?”

“I said come on!” he insisted, and this time, you didn’t hesitate.

You ran together through the forest, jumping over roots and dodging branches as the walkers' shadows moved between the trees.

You reached an abandoned cabin. Carl—because that’s what he had introduced himself as in the midst of the chaos—gestured for you to crouch behind an overturned table.

“Stay here,” he whispered.

“What are you going to do?” you asked, panic gripping your throat.

Carl pulled a knife from his belt and drove it into the palm of his hand without even flinching.

“What the hell…?”

“Shut up,” he interrupted, rubbing the fresh blood against the doorframe. “They follow the scent… I’ll lead them away.”

Before you could respond, Carl slipped out through the back of the cabin. His silhouette disappeared into the trees, leaving you alone in the darkness.

The growls got closer.

You could see them through the window—at least five walkers stumbling toward the front door. You didn’t breathe, didn’t move, didn’t even dare to blink.

But the blood Carl had left behind did its job. One by one, the walkers passed by, following the trail he had created.

When the last one disappeared, your body suddenly felt twice as heavy.

Carl returned minutes later, his shirt soaked in blood—mostly not his own—and his breathing ragged.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Am I okay?” you let out a disbelieving laugh. “You just cut your hand open!”

Carl glanced at his palm indifferently. “It was nothing.”

“Nothing?” You moved closer to examine the wound, taking his hand before he could resist. “God… this looks awful.”

“It’s just a cut,” he insisted, though his fingers remained still in yours.

“No, it’s reckless,” you scolded him gently, tearing a piece of fabric from your frayed sleeve and wrapping it around his palm.

He stayed silent as you worked. When you finished tying the bandage, you looked up and realized he was staring at you.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you murmured. “You could have… you could have died.”

“I wasn’t going to let them get you,” he replied as if it were obvious.

“Why?” you asked without thinking.

Carl swallowed hard and shrugged. “I guess… because I don’t want good people to die.”

The silence that followed was awkward… but not in a bad way. It was as if both of you were suddenly too aware of each other, of the fact that, for the first time in a long time, someone had done something selfless for the other.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Carl lowered his gaze, but you saw the faintest smile under the brim of his hat.

“You’re welcome.”

maggie

The abandoned church stands before you, its structure worn down by time and neglect. The wooden doors creak as you push them open, releasing the scent of dust and dampness. There are no pews left standing, only rubble and fragments of broken stained glass that catch the fading sunlight in muted flashes of color.

You walk toward the altar, where the lifeless bodies you had been forced to kill now lay motionless. Walkers. Or what once had been people. You kneel before them, letting the weight of reality settle onto your shoulders.

Closing your eyes, you clasp your hands together.

"Lord, receive these souls with mercy. Though the world turned them into shadows of what they once were, I know that, at some point, they were sons, daughters, fathers, mothers, friends. Forgive them, if there was ever anything to forgive. Take them home."

The silence is heavy but not uncomfortable. You know you are not alone.

"If you want me to pray for you too, you can come closer. I know you've been there this whole time."

You hear a quiet sigh before footsteps echo against the stone floor. You open your eyes and turn your head. A woman approaches cautiously, her rifle secured in her hand. Her expression is serious, but there’s something in her gaze that betrays her curiosity.

"How did you know?" she asks.

You smile calmly.

"You don’t need to see someone to know when they carry a burden in their soul."

She stops a few meters away, her eyes fixed on the lifeless bodies with a deep frown.

"Why do you pray for them?" she finally asks. "They’re not worth it anymore."

You look at the corpses with the same serenity you’ve had from the start.

"Because they were once people," you reply. "Don’t you think they still deserve that much?"

She watches you with a mix of disbelief and confusion.

"It’s hard to think that way after everything they’ve done to us. After everything they’ve done to my people."

You nod slowly.

"I understand. But I can’t forget that before they became monsters, they were just like you and me. How do we know if one of them wasn’t a good person? Maybe a husband, a mother, someone who fought until the very end… And one day, the world betrayed them."

She crosses her arms, thoughtful.

"Do you still believe in God?"

You smile.

"It’s the only thing that’s kept me alive."

Her frown deepens slightly.

"I don’t know how you can still believe."

You sigh softly, never losing your composure.

"Because if I stop, then everything is truly lost."

For a moment, the church is silent. You can tell that your words have affected her, even if she doesn’t say it out loud.

"It’s been a long time since I heard someone talk like that," she admits after a while.

You look at her kindly.

"If you’d like, I can pray for you."

She lets out a brief, almost incredulous laugh—but it isn’t mocking.

"Maybe later."

You nod.

And in that moment, you see something change in her eyes. Maybe not faith, but a spark of hope. Small, but real.

michonne

The air smells of fire and blood. The abandoned town around you is a graveyard of ashes and bodies that no longer have names. Walkers roam through the ruins, dragging their feet over the scorched earth. You wander too, but not without direction.

You have a goal.

The weapon in your hand trembles with exhaustion. You can barely hold it. Days have passed without food, without sleep, with no company but the weight of your own thoughts. You don’t know how much longer you can go on.

A sound makes you freeze.

Footsteps.

Not from walkers.

You turn—and see her.

A woman moves with calculated precision, two walkers chained behind her like macabre shadows. Her braided hair falls over her back, and her steady hand grips the hilt of a katana.

You don’t know her, but her presence says everything. She is not someone to take lightly.

Your fingers tighten around your weapon. This isn’t the first time you’ve encountered someone in this dead world, and so far, the odds have never been in your favor.

She stops, measuring your every move with sharp eyes.

"Don't try anything stupid," she says firmly.

You don’t intend to. But you don’t trust her either.

"Who are you?" you ask, keeping your distance.

She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she tilts her head slightly, evaluating you as if deciding whether or not you’re worth her time.

"Someone who just wants to pass through," she finally replies. "And someone who’s looking at a person about to collapse."

You clench your jaw. You don’t want to admit it, but she’s right.

Michonne watches the tremor in your hand, the way you barely stay on your feet.

"How long has it been since you last ate?" she asks.

You don’t answer. You don’t want her pity.

She sighs, and before you can react, she pulls a small pouch from her belt and tosses it toward you. Instinctively, you catch it. Food. Something dry and simple, but food nonetheless.

You look at her warily.

"Why?"

Michonne crosses her arms.

"Because I don’t want to have to kill you when you pass out and the walkers get to you."

Her brutal honesty catches you off guard. There’s no kindness in her voice, but no cruelty either. Just the truth.

You sigh and lower your weapon slightly.

"And what do you want in return?"

She shrugs.

"Nothing. But if you want to stay alive, you'd better learn how to move in this world."

You have so many questions, you don’t even know where to start.

Michonne turns and begins to walk away. For a moment, you think that’s the end of it.

But then, without looking back, she says:

"If you have nowhere to go, you can come with me."

You hesitate.

You’re still distrustful. But your options are scarce.

And something in her voice, in her presence, tells you this isn’t an offer she makes lightly.

You take a step forward. Then another.

Michonne says nothing else.

But as you start walking by her side, for the first time in a long while, you don’t feel completely alone.

[toy-dragon]

Part of my New Years Resolutions involves trying to play more of the ttrpgs in my collection, and tonight I just finished running the first session of @anim-ttrpgs 's Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy.

Now, looking at this book (October public beta for most I bet) it looks intimidating. 600+ pages with a lot of rules.

I read through it in chunks during my work hours, small bits at a time with a few big reads on my computer. I read through certain sections again, trying to figure out how all the rules slot together in the abstract.

Then, a hilarious opportunity happened in their patreon server, people wanting to play Eureka, so I volunteered. I figured, hey why not. This could be a good time. I got an older converted module they run in their public book club and spent the time setting up and asking a handful of questions about certain bits.

Admittedly, I was a bit nervous to run it. It has been a while since I ran a game for people I didn't know well, and I felt a bit under prepared despite my preparations and note-taking.

Eased my worries a bit that a few of my players had run it before, and was getting really excited about all their characters as they were sending me their ideas and thoughts about them.

After tonight, I am shaking everyone by the shoulders to go play it, oh my god. Not only was it really easy to run, I had such a good time despite my stuttering start to the game. While I was a bit disorganized in the initial start, trying to get my legs under to set up the first scene, it was wonderful watching everyone start having their characters interact with the funeral and each other and it felt very natural. Setting up Roll20 so that everyone was using GM rolls, so only I saw all their results, but would talk about rolls required and would hurriedly whisper them their info or answers to their question if it was a bit more complicated than a yes/no. And if you're like "Hey, what about their rules about Splitting the party? That seems incredibly weird?" At first, yes, I thought that too initially, but knew what they were emulating, but it didn't quite click reading it. We played in Discord, so I set a time limit of about maximum 10 minutes each separate group just to try to give enough breathing room and still keep it snappy. I had players deafen themselves as needed and then would ping people if their turn was up. I see posts from players saying how wonderfully helpful this is to keep track of things and stay in the session, and how it leads to relationships developing wonderfully. As the Narrator, it was actually super helpful for me! Because it would help both with breaking up the scenes neatly, but also helped to get into the heads of the NPCs around the investigators in different scenes, especially when time had passed. One scene had some of the investigators running off on their own while the rest stayed behind at a funeral to talk to an NPC to try and figure out more things, and then later on two of the investigators accepted her invitation to the after funeral dinner and it was so helpful to be like "Okay, so she's at dinner with family and a friend of the deceased. How is her mood now and how willing is she to talk about certain things vs how willing she was while at the graveyard." So so so helpful in my opinion. Beautifully well done. The investigators ended up at a Denny's and it was such a fun scene because someone brought up the possibility of haunted houses and started a wild argument. Afterwards, we ended just after the investigators made plans on splitting up for next time. Wonderfully made game. Please go play or even just read it. I had such a grand old time and can't wait to see what happens to this plucky and oddball group of investigators

[fruitlicense]

before Arcane S2 I always wondered why Vi and Powder went with Vander so easily after their parents died and why Powder ran to Silco for comfort after the warehouse fire.

Vander and Silco knew Felicia and Connol. hell, Vander named Vi! in all likelihood, Vander and Silco were like uncles to Vi and Powder in their early childhood, because they were close friends with their parents and worked the same profession. it wouldn’t surprise me at all if the four adults staggered their shifts in the mines to make sure someone was there to watch the girls at any given time. also, I don’t think Vander and Silco had their falling-out until soon before or during the rebellion that killed Felicia and Connol. in fact, I would hazard a guess that the reason Vander is wandering around post-battle pummeling the remaining Enforcers and looking for the dead is because he missed a good chunk of the fight while he was down in the river trying to strangle Silco.

the key piece of information here is that Vander and Silco were still friends and probably still in Vi and Powder’s lives right up until it all went wrong. when Vander took Vi and Powder in, he wasn’t adopting two kids he’d found randomly out of some sense of guilt or pity - those were his best friends’ kids. they approached him as a safe person even after seeing him beat some random guy because they knew him. when Powder saw Silco after Vander’s death and launched herself at him for a hug, she didn’t do that because he was the closest nearby person. she remembered him, even after however many years spent with Vander instead of her parents. his hesitation before he hugged her back was likely due to the time that had passed and his tension with Vander, not a lack of recognition.

TLDR: Vi and Powder don’t approach Vander and Silco as father figures because they’re the closest people at the times they need support, but because Vander and Silco were their parents’ best friends and they knew them already from childhood.

[sunshine-zenith]

Okay, so I have been reading your New Wish posts and I have some theories I'm gonna share with you.

I believe that time passes differently in Fairy World, which could help explain Wanda and Cosmo going on vacay for 10,000 years. Plus it would take Peri 1,000 years to finish Fairy School and become a Godparent.

The reason why Peri was assigned to such a hard kid is because of the whole 'family legacy' thing. Not only was he born to two fairy actively working with a kid and grew up in that environment but he is also very powerful. So I think Jorgen (or who ever made the assignment) figured he could handle it.

I think that retirement means something different in Fairy World. I think it's the equivalent to switching jobs. Like (for example), a fairy retires from working for the Tooth Fairy, goes on vacation for a few thousand years, then starts Fairy School to become a Godparent.

It's also possible that it was decided at some point that fairies could have kids again. Likely when older fairies started retiring from their jobs (and not just Godparenting) and there is a worker shortage.

Ooo I like these, especially the second one — I don’t remember who but someone made a Gifted Kid Burnout(tm) joke on one of my posts about Peri, and that combined with your theory explains so much — Peri was born to a family of good (if unconventional) fairy godparents, raised pretty much as an unofficial FGP, and a lot of stuff just came naturally to him. It’s basically the magical foster parent equivalent of being born to a pare of amazing lawyer/doctors/etc, and never having to learn proper study skills due to being naturally gifted socially and in school, only to be smacked in the face with reality when you’re given a caseload way above your skill set right off the bat and you also don’t have the abilities to adapt because you never had to develop them

Retirement not being permanent for fairies also makes sense — they’re basically immortal, let’s be real they’d probably get bored out of their minds if they didn’t have some kind of task to get up to

Also, it would make sense that the ban on fairy children would be lifted eventually, if only for the practical reason on mitigating a worker’s shortage (lowkey makes Fairy World a little dystopian, but it’s always had semi-dystopian vibes anyway lmao). Plus, Peri proved fairy children aren’t that dangerous (and a lot of the dangerous things that can be pinned on him are mostly the result of like. People trying to kidnap him. Or being unsupervised. Can’t really blame him for accidentally setting off a volcano in self defense or crashing a car because his babysitter lost track of him), so there’s no legitimate reason for the ban to remain. Still, given that Peri was basically a societal practice baby for all of Fairy World after so long without children being born, it was probably a while before a new generation of fairies came to be. Peri probably still spent a good chunk of his developmental years alone

[irrealisms]

whenever i think too hard about how differently i got treated as a depressed/anxious patient vs a psychotic patient i'm kind of bowled over by it. i don't really like talking abt it, it feels weird for a Few reasons not least of which is "it kind of feels like humblebragging abt being one of the Good Psychotics" but i'm going to talk about it bc i feel like it's .... an important thing that ppl don't. realize

when my primary problem was ocd i saw multiple therapists and talked about being terrified i would hurt people (details of intrusive thoughts redacted). i was told, categorically, by all of them, that this was false & that i was a good person who just had ocd. for years, i saw therapists for primarily anxiety/depression/eating disorder reasons. during this time, i had a few meltdowns in which i physically hurt others; one was in response to being restrained but most were not justified at all and were just an expression of emotion. i'm not going to pretend that all the therapists i saw were all great bc they absolutely were not! i had transphobic therapists i had therapists who violated or removed my privacy i had therapists who i hid the extent of my suicidality from for fear of institutionalization or similar i was very aware that if i did not agree to eat i would eventually be forcefed etc etc. i was still experiencing psychiatric ableism. but there was never serious concern from them that i should be considered a risk to others.

when my primary problem was psychosis symptoms (i have issues with the label but it's the one they used), i was rejected by multiple therapists who thought i wasn't a good fit. the ones i did see spent a solid chunk of time in every session trying to figure out if i was violent or dangerous to others. (for the record: i have had psychotic symptoms for the past almost-decade now and have never hurt people about them; the people close to me can confirm that i handle situations like "my closest friend has been replaced with an evil imposter" or "all my friends are conspiring against me" or similar with grace and aplomb and without any violence.) i had a psychiatrist (who knew that i had negative reactions to antipsychotics) who suggested antipsychotics i could take "for anxiety", without telling me they were antipsychotics and who noted psychotic symptoms in my chart while only telling me that she was treating me for anxiety. when i told one of my therapists who i was seeing for psychosis reasons that i had been in IOP for harm OCD a year before, and that i had harm OCD with intrusive thoughts, she took this as meaning that the voices told me to hurt people, and i had to spend the rest of the session trying to reassure her that i wasn't going to. when i told the therapist after that the same thing, i was told that i could either report myself to a local mental hospital as a danger to others voluntarily or that she would call the cops. i went; my parents and i begged them to reconsider the therapist's judgement, so they evaluated me there over a zoom call. the person over the zoom call agreed that i was a danger to others. the paperwork from them doesn't even mention the intrusive thoughts; it just notes that i have paranoia, delusions, hallucinations. that's enough, for me to be institutionalized as a danger to others. all the evidence they need. and so despite it being sparked by me having intrusive thoughts, i wasn't put on OCD meds--they took me off my OCD meds!--i was put on antipsychotics.

and this is where i can feel weird talking about this, right, bc psychosis does make some people violent, and throwing them under the bus or denying their existence bc i'm ~one of the good ones~ is the last thing i want to do. but there is an automatic, default assumption, when you are psychotic, that you are violent. whether or not you are. no matter what you do. and as someone with harm ocd it's fucked me up & there's the thing where ppl do not hesitate in doing violence to me about those assumptions which has also fucked me up. my impression is that addicts, people diagnosed with personality disorders, and a few other diagnoses can get hit by similar treatment (differently flavored) from the psychiatric system. as soon as you're in a certain box in their mind nothing else matters. you're just ... dangerous. violent. unpredictable.

i don't know where i'm going with this. i might make another post in a bit about a different psychiatry thing. i just--i think people don't realize what it's like, how bad it is, how qualitatively it's a different sort of ableism than disorders where you're seen as primarily dangerous to yourself. and also it's late at night and i'm unhappy.

[jessconsumesmedia]

Ghosts 4x10 The Not-So-Silent Partner

I thought that I might put together a well-organized piece of writing for this episode, but who knows how that is actually going to work out. I LOVED this episode and I have so many thoughts (many of which I am thinking about giving their own posts) So buckle in and enjoy my wild ranting about fictional characters.

Freaky Spoilers below the belt (they are so not i promise i just think im funny)

Overall thoughts: This episode was Really strong. I loved both of the main plots as well as the little background moments. The stories this season are building up gorgeously and I can't wait to get more payoffs as the season progresses. Pretty much as always I am just going to break up A and B stories and then add any other random bit at the end! (buckle up or leave this is going to be a long ride)

Issac - The not-so-silent partner

I love Issac and his bitchy little attitude; it brings us back to the fact that almost always his bitchyness* is just who he is. He is at heart a bitchy man who is realllllly trying (at least for him he is really trying) but he is also a deeply scorned man. By love, by society, by Hamilton, and even by his friends. The restaurant is his way of being seen, it is his way of being something in an afterlife where he feels like nothing sometimes. He of course is not going about it the right way but this guy has spent his entire life and afterlife being one upped often by people who don't even care about his existence. His hand in the restaurant is important to him. That being said I believe it was a really good decision to have him give up his partner position. He not only realized that he has stakes with his friends but it also is baseline Jay's restaurant.

Jay deserves to have the creative decisions plus he deserves a billion pats on the back for dealing with their eight idiot children/every other ghost on the property at some point. At the beginning of this episode I figured there might be a lead up to Mark finding out about the ghosts but I was surprised with the way they yes/anded their way out of that situation. But I realized it doesn't make a ton of sense for a network tv show to somewhat reveal two big bits (and subsequently lose a layer of jokes even if there are new joke possibilities) Mark finding out that the ghosts exist and Sam can see them takes away the Mark thinks Sam is a weirdo vibe and that is objectively a very silly dynamic. Also **Sam is a weirdo but mostly because of her small/odd family dynamic and also a little bit because of the ghosts. Poor Mark, bro is so gullible.

**"I think we sometimes forget that Samantha once hit her head really hard." definitely not the reason she is desperate for family but it is a good excuse actually for a lot of the situations she finds herself in. But also I wonder if she does have lasting effects, like I would assume considering she was literally dead for three minutes.

*"Issac complain about monarchy, must be day ending in y" oh Thor you are a comedic genius and you are very correct.

Hopefully I got everything I wanted to put in that lol.

IRISH HETTY

Holy shit. I knew, of course I knew. But having confirmation of something that hits you straight in the face is just really nice. This reveal is perfection. Poor Hetty believing whole heartedly that she is somehow British royalty and then she gets hit with one of the things she hates most in life. Love it. This managed to coincide with my English literature class going over a bit of Irish history so I was having a grand time sticking the two together into one big nerd pb&j. Plus I know generally that I have a good chunk of Irish somewhere in my history lol.

The actual implications of Hetty knowing she is Irish now are insane. Much like her encounter with the washing machine, dalliances with Trevor, and brief run ins with feminism, her finding out about her Irish ancestry is just another wall she is breaking. Almost like a another layer that is keeping her from "the real world." She is so stuck in her very stuffy uptight ways but these giant -for her- moments keep happening. They keep adding cracks and craters to the layers of her being. Much like Issac they don't change her fundamental elements so she is still the sam character/person but she has that growth we long to see. Mostly I love to see her views get challenged and she has to deal with the aftermath of those challenges.

Thor's part in all of this is also really interesting. We know he knows things about probably all of the ghosts but he has managed to keep these secrets for an incredibly long time. Thor is just a big guy who loves and cares about his friends. There is also another layer of Hetty being one of, if not, the only ghost who Grew up at Woodstone. The ghosts before her had an attachment to her because they were there for her whole depressing backstory TM. They know what all she went through (some stuff they probably have never said) But Thor specifically fell into some sort of protective figure for her (even if she didn't consider him as that protector for a long time after her death) Whether Sass and Issac just chose not too be as involved or even if they were Thor was there and chose to be there. He knew being Irish would be a huge crack in her worldview so he kept it to himself all to protect her. And let me tell you that made me cry. The Thor and Hetty relationship is one of my favorites not only because of the comedic aspects but also just the sheer care he has for her. She can't do much besides accept her friend and even affirm that friendship. (HETTY LOVE GORDON) Like guys she doesn't even say his pelts are gross and nasty it is such a huge moment for the both of them. They have to feel real life feelings which is a problem for them both, and as they tap into those feeling they are able to settle each other.

Trevor's part in this is smaller but it is still Very much there. He is quick to affirm that he loves St. Patrick's day. Quick to let her believe that her ***"Flaming red hair and alabaster skin" aren't particularly Irish traits. He stays by her side nearly all episode. Yet he was delighted to find out that she was in fact Irish, but he didn't make fun of her? Their whole relationship is based off of their conflict wouldn't he as the little shit that he is want to crowd her with snide witticisms? No he wouldn't. Their relationship genuinely makes me feel insane sometimes because we are clearly moving towards some sort of impasse. Whether its that we find out they have been getting closer but are just friends still or if they have been secretly hooking up off camera or any number of possibilities. There are choices being made that bring them together. Trevor likes Hetty's qualities simply put and Hetty apparently Loves Colin Ferrell who in many ways favors the pantless crusader. (He also uses that tone of voice that it seems like he literally saves for Hetty) I just cant wait to see more of their "complicated and diabolical" relationship.

***Now Trevor explain why you said that with a sarcastic air but at the same time plausible enough that Hetty would probably take it at face value. Plus why was he so poetic in his descriptions???

I believe that I have written what I can about Hetty but also I probably could think of other things lol.

Miscellaneous

Pete is such a good teacher. I love that he shows Hetty a bunch of Irish things.

"This man has plans for someone and I for one respect it" How even would he execute that plan lol?

If they wanted to take Issacs money I really think all they'd have to do is ask Trevor. He wants to be Mom and Dad's favorite.

Doctor Hoo

"No, baby, that was the scam."

Kelsey is so real for the gift card and seven dollars lol. (She is hilarious and a really good person to bring back)

Gaslight that poor man

Also Hetty looking too Trevor to calm her fears like she could have asked anyone in that room and she chose him.

Rebecca Wisocky the woman that you are. The line read on that bit about Whiskey is Hilarious.

I love Pete and his love of the craft. The improv your way out really worked I am curious if it could come up again somehow with Mahesh and Mark.

I love Jay that is the tweet hit send

"Except for Danes who brains are rumored to be mostly cabbage" He just can't get past his own prejudices.

That is the end of my very long rant sesh! Thanks for sticking around

He is down bad

I just like how for most of the scene she can’t look him in the eyes :((((

-Jess🫡

[irlnorthshaw]

I miss maya! how well does she get along with the other invincible guys

AAAA I MISS HER TOO!!! but its nice to see that you guys like her bc im always scared talking abt ocs… sweats. ANYWAYS great question. id say she is okay with everyone but the IU guys are difficult to get along with so… if anything its their fault!!!

another thing for context: maya is a player but not in the starting lineup or anything. i think the super league operates differently from FIFA and this IS part of my women’s category AU so, it’s not like she CAN’T play either. she’s just there under apprenticeship for the time being but does play friendlies and sometimes even subs!

this is gonna be a long one so!! BUCKLE UP

skarra ::

oh my lord she does not fw this guy AT ALL. think he’s a massive prick and every conversation will 100% end up in an argument.

BUUUUT they play well together, she sets him up clean, he takes the shot, no problem. she hates to be that person but she is SO sure he’s gay and keeps dropping subtle questions about it

“are you gay?” “HOW DID YOU GET MY PHONE NUMBER???”

dingaan ::

she can’t lie, he annoys her at times but she does feel really bad for him bc the other guys treat him like shit. they don’t talk often but she’d rather practice with him than the others

sometimes she offers to hang out with him and they do!! they’d browse trinket stores together and probably sit down for a nice and chill lunch

dooma ::

pain in her ass. when she first joined the team, he ignored her and she had to REALLY fight for her place as a player with the rest of the guys.

i’ve said this before but dooma is like her vaguely evil and suspicious uncle figure

she helps him out with tactics and stuff bc she does spend her time observing games from the outside, so yes they are on semi good terms

automatic ::

had a crush on him but now that she has spent a good chunk of time at the team… yeah no

idk they probably did it once and decided they’d rather die than do it again LOL

she’s definitely the closest w him, they share the same humor and both try to spend the least amount of overtime after training

24/7 bonding (and by bonding i mean shittalking) over their connection w supa strikas. him being an ex player and her having a brother that plays for them

the web ::

she is a bit scared of him bc the guy barely talks. but they’ve never had a sour interaction or anything

vince ::

he respects her, she respects him even though she thinks he’s like a bit too much at times

he often asks for her input on certain things abt strategies and schemes (but she flat out refuses if it’s against supa strikas… other teams tho? she’s down)

he does piss her off sometimes bc even tho she isn’t a main player, he still treats and scolds her like one

“I HIRED YOU TO PLAY NOT TO CHAT AROUND!!!” “YOU DIDN’T EVEN PUT ME ON WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!”

[sapwine-and-starcharts]

19, 20, 28, 31, and 32 (and freebie if you want!!) for the ask game i NEED to know more about mylo heehee

!!!! TYSM for sending an ask!

So 19 was already asked in [THIS] ask but as for the rest of them

20. What is your Hatchling’s favorite planet?

Okay so. Obvious answer is the Interloper because that was literally their obsession since they were a wee hatchling, but TECHNICALLY that's a comet and not a planet so...

If Mylo had to pick a favourite planet it would probably be Giant's deep! It's where Gabbro is and the only planet that is mildly unstressful.

Sure the Ember Twin has Chert on it but it's also where they experienced one of the worst deaths they've been through. Brittle hollow's got the black hole, dark bramble is SCARY, and timber hearth is too bitter sweet.

Giant's deep, while filled with tornadoes, atleast has a hammock they can curl up in and their Time Buddy who always welcomes them with open arms.

28. Is your Hatchling a decent pilot? Were they always that way?

Oh stars no. Even after a solid YEAR or so of looping they still bonk their landing gear on rocks or set their auto pilot too soon leaving Timber Hearth and get slingshotted into the ground by the atmosphere. (Totally not because I, the player who controls them, am terrible at flying lmaoooo)

31. Is your Hatchling flirtatious?

NO LMAO. I feel like they try to be a little bit but they are so silly and dorky that they just can't pull it off. Plus they crumble into dust whenever anyone flirts with them, cannot dish AND cannot take.

32. Is your Hatchling dating anyone? If so, who?

OH BOY. AN EXCUSE TO GO OFF ABOUT STARTNERS??? YIPPEEE!!

You have no idea what you've just unleashed.

Okay, so simple answer is that Mylo is dating Chert and are ???ing Gabbro.

(Gonna put the long version as well as the freebie under the cut cause its getting LONG already)

Chert and Mylo were hatchlinghood friends, often spending hours just studying and reading together in the Observatory library before it got converted into the museum.

Mylo spent ALOT of the loops comforting them until eventually they realised their true feelings for them (Sapwine and Starcharts).

And like, falling in love with someone that would never remember HURTS so they also spent a good chunk of time both in the loops and post loops where they ignored their Star Pal until they get confronted about it and eventually end up spilling the beans (Starfilled Hearts / the retconned slowburn version i'm working on)

Here's where things get COMPLICATED tho. Cause during their time avoiding Chert they spent more and more time with Gabbro until they start to wonder if there's deeper feelings there.

They quickly realise there isn't, but it also doesn't feel the same as their friendship with Hal who was their best friend in the whole world.

Their feelings for Gabbro were way more intense but they they were different from the way they felt about Chert. Mylo can't for the life of them figure out what to call it. (But i can <3 They're Platonic Soulmates. Maybe in a QPR but i haven't done enough research on it to label it that yet)

The line of friendship is so blurry for the Time Buddies already and it only gets blurrier when Gabbro start's coming around Chert and Mylo's place post loops + post Ember Twin because they've been having nightmares and Mylo is the only one who Gets It. And since its late at night, Mylo just lets Gabbro into bed with them for comfort cuddles.

Chert's initially confused by this but eventually comes around to having Gabbro being over so often until it just becomes routine and Chert and Mylo's place becomes Chert, Mylo, and Gabbro's place.

In short, Mylo's weird as hell relationship with Chert and Gabbro can be summed up with two memes:

'Ah yes. Me, my partner, and their 6'2" Time Buddy'

and

2. 'Polycule but it’s just two people in a romantic relationship with each other and their third who’s pretty obviously aroace but also somehow so deeply intertwined in their lives that it’d just be wrong to not count them as involved. Is this anything.'

(Ace for Ace for Aro ChertMyloGabbro is another big part of their relationship. I will DIE on the aromantic Gabbro / Platonic Soulmate!Time Buddies hill okay?)

Anyways, they make me actually insane. Like my brain is about to explode thinking about them. The time buddies, the star pals, the startners...

I REALLY hope all of that made sense lmao

50. Freebie

I know this is supposed to be like headcanon stuff but for this post i kinda wanna use it to show off my favourite pieces of them :}

Thank you so much again for asking me about Mylo, all of these questions make me so happy :'}

[thedreadvampy]

Sorry about your loss :( when youre feeling up to it, I'd love to hear some memories about Otis.

well as often happens in these situations one thing I'm finding is I didn't take enough pictures of him while I had the chance.

Otis, as my friend said in some distress when I told them last week that he was sick, was The People's Boy. Everybody loved him and he loved people, he was enthusiastically ready to meet strangers and greet friends. He was an exceptionally sweet and chill man and he actively enjoyed handling, so he converted several people who weren't sure of snakes at all into huge Otis fans.

He was an incredibly beautiful boy - he was very big and muscular before he got sick, and he had creamy white and dark brown patterning that made him look like tempered chocolate. His belly was this lovely graphic checkerboard and he had a face that always made me think of a rabbit's face - big brown eyes and a pinkish nose and a little moustache pattern that gave him :3 face.

He liked to climb all over you, and he particularly liked to climb long hair. he would reach himself out so far his whole body was trembling. but he wasn't ever really trying to get away, he was just enjoying exploring - the corn snake we had until 2020 was always gearing up for a dash, but Otis was a pootler, he liked to wander around and smell things.

we got Otis in 2021 from the SSPCA and he was about 3 then. We think they'd misjudged his food requirements cause they told us he had one mouse a week, but that he'd scarf up any leftovers the other snakes didn't eat. and when he moved in with us he fell on food immediately (which was nice cause we'd just lost a baby corn snake who never learned how to eat at all) but then he'd stay activated and looking for more food instead of settling in to digest. also he did this.

literally tried to eat both me and Sam multiple times which was no fun for anyone involved. lots of blood and prising off of jaws with a credit card. anyway then we upped him to two large mice a week and he never showed the slightest signs of aggression or biting ever again. he was literally just starving.

he also grew literally another foot once he was getting enough food, which came as a bit of a surprise cause at 3 we figured he was mostly done growing, but he grew so much we had to get him a bigger viv because he was doing frustrated circles around the old one.

we took him to the vet like a few months or so into having him, because he stopped eating over the winter, which we didn't yet know was normal for him, and because he had a scar on his head when we got him which seemed to be spreading (in retrospect, probably just because he was growing so much that damaged skin was splitting).

First off, the vet loved him. Whenever Otis had to go to the vets, all the nurses would see him through the window and come in to fuss over him.

On that early visit, the vet used the phrase "startlingly healthy" - he was on the biggest end of male kingsnakes and he was basically pure muscle. We called him our long himbo because he was both exceptionally fit, super sweet-natured, and kinda dumb.

I remember one time we gave him a mouse, he leapt on it instantly then dropped it, and he looked back at us in confusion with his tongue flickering like "mOuSe? sMeLl MoUsE? wHeRe MoUsE?????" and we were like buddy. It's on your butt. I can see it. It's draped over you.

he loved to burrow and he loved to swim. Not so much recently, because he was prescribed daily baths to help with his gut issues and he came to find it quite stressful, but in the past if we put him in a bath he'd settle in happily and swim laps around the box. he spent a good chunk of his life buried in between the paper layers in his viv (occasionally terrifying, he was good at hiding) but he refused to stay in pockets, because when he was out and about he wanted to keep an eye on everything.

he was so chill. He didn't mind being handled or kissed on his back, and he'd just do little bleps right on your face. He seemed almost impossible to scare, he'd just wander straight up to things. He did like an explore but he was also totally happy to sit in your lap or around your neck while you got on with things, and he'd often refuse to get back in his viv after. He really really liked people, and he liked us.

I'm really struggling at the moment because for years now when I'm sad and exhausted and out of energy I'd take him out and hold him in my lap and he'd help me feel more safe and present. And I would really like to be doing that again and I can't. I miss his weight and warmth and smoothness and the way he smelled and I miss talking to him. He was the goodest boy.

[belethlegwen]

What do you imagine a medieval and a modern day giantess would realistically wear from top to toe?

I can't imagine any giant woman in any era foregoing pants, for one thing. God I'd be mortified if I were to somehow wind up as a giant/wind up somewhere as a giant in a skirt. Lord, what a nightmare!

I won't lie, this question is definitely stumping me because I ask myself too many questions about the set-up to the situation, and don't want to make any kind of generalization in the area of like, character design per-se only because I love seeing what other people come up with in these types of prompts. I love seeing giantesses wearing chunks of ships, for example, or using regular-sized traffic lights or tank treads as jewelry (what up Freyja by @pocket-ozwynn, her design has had so many fucking COOL details like that).

I'm not a great designer, in my own opinion, and in this instance feel slightly stuck on like... my own vague internal world-building ideas of existing storylines I've had/toyed with in the past? If that makes sense? So I'll do my best to take a crack at it but I apologize if it's mostly just me babbling and being more confused than helpful, haha.

So:

I guess it depends on how the giantess arrived where she is, I suppose? Is she expecting/at the mercy of the people around her to clothe her? Was she wearing anything of her own when she arrived as a giant? In the events of giantesses showing up in the nude and having to depend on the people who discovered them: In medieval times, depending on the level of puritanism/pre-puritanism kind of ideals in the area, I think they'd probably make sure she was covered as they were able to manage. Pants (maybe even just shorts?), shirt. Would they bother to try and make her shoes? I'm not at all sure. That's a more complicated thing and probably not nearly as important to the populace as making sure the rest of her is modestly covered.

In modern times? They'd probably just get her a bunch of fabric and tell her to figure it out her damn self and be mad if she wasn't doing it well enough, but that's not a fun answer hahaha. I guess if they wanted to weaponize her/make her some kind of asset to a government, they'd spend a good bit of money to get her clothed as well as they could to kind of show off what they could do? I doubt it would be very sci-fi, no power-armour or anything, but hell they might try to make a gigantic military uniform if that was the impression they wanted her to give off on behalf of the country.

I hope this is good! I spent so much time waffling on this one because I'm just like... not nearly as good at this as other people in the community for sure. Thank you so much for the ask anyway though!! I did still have fun with it and I appreciate getting it as always!