#squash ball machine

[gr3milinz]

I frogot how 2 draw 💔 💔 💔 💔💔 💔 💔 💔

[sixosix]

synopsis in which satoru really needed to start reading the gc more often. solves a lot.

tags slight making out scene… satoru is an asshole but what’s new, satoru is also hopelessly infatuated, all the readers i write are emotionally constipated sorry, getting together(?) fluff bit angsty tho

a/n this is a little stupid and unrealistic but bear with me because this is my first time writing in a looong time to get back in the groove of writing ^__^

Shoko wrinkled her nose as Satoru made the show of tossing a crumpled-up vending machine can into the bin on the other side of the street. It landed perfectly in the middle because why wouldn’t it? Emboldened by the impressed glances of passersby, he reached for Suguru’s pocket, where there was a balled-up paper in his bontan pants. Suguru winced when it was your head instead, where you had started crossing.

Your glare cut a thrill down Satoru’s spine. You huffed and bent down to pick up the trash, your knuckles white, like you were imagining it was Satoru’s head instead. Satoru was just appreciating how gracefully you’d bowed, the curve of your back captivating him for a moment until Suguru elbowed him.

“Stop littering,” Suguru said sternly, but his eyes spelled out that it was not about the littering.

Satoru shrugged. “I wouldn’t have missed if it weren’t for Y/N.” 

Satoru called out after you as you dropped the paper ball into the bin directly. “Oi!” You ignored him and continued walking, a considerable distance lengthening between you and the three. “Ha, you embarrassed?”

“Anyone would be if they were seen with you,” you spat out almost reflexively, then blinked at your own words. Satoru almost swore you wanted to apologize, but you composed yourself by turning your back on him altogether.

Satoru grinned. “It’s okay,” he said. “Shoko and Suguru don’t need to know I had to save your ass from a low-grade curse.”

You didn’t dignify his taunt with a response, but your shoulders tensed for a moment.

“So moody. How does your boyfriend put up with this?” Satoru snickered as he eyed the back of your head. He relished in the way a vein pops on your temple, breathed in the way you looked over your shoulder just to say—

“Shut up, Satoru. I mean it.”

He wasn’t unfamiliar with envious or hateful gazes; it came with his birth, really. Awe and fear and there are impossibles, but not for Gojo Satoru said with contempt—he didn’t care. Yours were different. He took pride in affecting people in ways where they could never ignore him, but the way you looked at him felt thrilling. He wondered if your boyfriend saw how your eyes would set ablaze for Satoru.

But he didn’t actually care, he would say. He never cared for a lot of things. It showed, at times, others would say.

“Whoa, did someone get their heart broken today?” Satoru whistled, his tone lilting upwards in what seemed to be a way to lighten the mood. No moods were lightened.

Your head whipped around to give him a look that had him frozen on the spot. His eyes widened behind his shades. He felt like that paper ball at the moment, about to be squashed flat against your palm. That look felt familiar, but not in the way that he knew he was familiar with because of you. It was familiar because of everyone else.

Suguru shot him a look that said he would’ve shoved him had it not been for his Infinity on. “Satoru.”

You walked on ahead, brushing past them with hiked-up shoulders. You looked like you were about to break at the slightest touch—it looked wrong. You had always looked so strong in Satoru’s eyes. Not stronger than him, of course, but… seeing your lip tremble like that made him itch the wrong way.

Satoru glanced between Suguru and Shoko, lost. “Am I missing something?”

Suguru said, “You didn’t hear?”

“Oh, so you know, but I don’t? What is this? Leave-out-Satoru club? You have a group chat without me?” Satoru did not mean for that to come out that bitter.

Shoko exhaled, smoke faintly billowing from her lips. She regarded Satoru with a look. “Maybe if you actually read our group chat with you, you wouldn’t be so ignorant.”

And so Satoru scrolled through his phone, wounded. Suguru and Shoko whispered among themselves as his eyebrows arched up so high that he looked elated.

“That’s it?” Satoru scoffed. “Trouble in paradise? Y/N almost got hurt by a curse because of some man?”

“Idiot,” Suguru sighed. “You’re also a man.”

Satoru knew what was going on in Shoko’s head with her expression. She was calling him trash. “They’ve been together for years. Before Y/N even met you.”

Satoru bristled. “So?”

“So don’t think of this as some chance,” Suguru said. Since when was he some love expert? “And stop terrorizing. No one brokenhearted would want to see your stupid face.”

He gaped. “So rude!”

And then he backtracked. “And I wasn’t thinking of this as a chance.” He was. “I don’t even like Y/N like that!” He does terribly. “I’m just glad I don’t have to hear from that asshole non-sorcerer again. Have you heard the way he says baby? Even through the phone, it gives me the creeps.”

Suguru hummed thoughtfully. “He was an asshole.”

Shoko laughed. “That asshole got to date Y/N before you, though.”

Satoru decided to spare Shoko, feeling too delighted to let anyone ruin it.

“Did you read all the messages?” Suguru asked.

“Nah.” Satoru stared at the back of your head. “I got the gist of it seeing Suguru’s reply, ‘he was an asshole anyway.’” He flashed his teeth and quickened his pace. “Come on, before Y/N gets flung around by curses again.”

Suguru and Shoko shared a look that he missed completely.

You eyed the plastic bag Satoru was holding out distrustfully.

It was too dark already, but that was no problem for Gojo Satoru. He came here—your room, your door—with a mission in mind. That mission involved ice cream because he saw in movies that people liked to eat ice cream and cry after breakups. You weren’t crying, which relieved him, though he didn’t know why. He wanted to convince himself it was because he didn’t want to deal with tears, but he couldn’t lie to himself well when it came to you.

“Nice try,” you said, pushing it back to his chest. You startled at the cold.

“What— It’s not poison!” Satoru said. He flicked it open and showed you his gift, one you should appreciate for his efforts and thoughtfulness.

“Ice cream?” you said suspiciously. Then it dawned on you. Your lips turned up in a disbelieving smile. He'd take it much better than the look you gave him that day, even when dregs of weariness dulled your eyes. “Were you worried?”

You looked awful, which was probably the norm for someone going through a breakup from a long relationship. Satoru didn’t like your sad face at all. It pissed him off, like some puzzle piece that didn’t fit. Still, to Satoru, he supposed anything was better than not getting to see your face at all.

“Yeah,” he found himself saying before he could think about it.

Your face fell. “Satoru.”

“Just take it, or else I’ll eat it in front of you.”

Your hand gripped the door tighter.

Satoru cleared his throat. “Okay, or you can just shut the door on me and go back to sleep.” And then, silently: “You can just take it, and I’ll leave.”

You stared at him as if expecting him to take it back.

Satoru felt his face warm. “Are you gonna take it or not?”

“It creeps me out when you act nice.”

He glared. “I’m always nice, but I’m not creepy about it.”

Your shoulders relaxed. You took the bag from him with a smile that felt like a shared secret. “Do you wanna come in?”

His first thought was, holy shit, but what came out was, “Sure, I don’t care.”

He had never been in your room before. Shoko was, a lot of times, most of the time. Suguru managed to, here and there, when you needed some help with heavy lifting. You kicked Satoru every time he used to even think about it. Your room was more ordinary than he expected. No posters, flashy souvenirs, or even clothes strewn over your bed. It looked lonely.

There was a box in the corner beside your closet that looked entirely out of place. Satoru must have been staring at it for a moment too long as you said, “Those are my ex’s clothes. I stole many of it, but I don’t want to wear them anymore.”

Satoru’s curious gaze turned into distaste. “Want me to get rid of it?”

“What?” You laughed. “I’ll just give it back.”

Satoru bounded over to the box and crouched, peeling the cover open. “Why not? There’s a dumpster nearby.”

“Well, they were nice. Not my ex, I mean the clothes. Felt expensive—I’d rather he take it back.” Always the goody two shoes.

“Hmmm…” Satoru lifted his head to stare at you. “Did you like wearing them? You can borrow mine. Much better than these cheap knockoffs.”

Your eyes flashed with interest, and Satoru knew he had said the right words. His clothes were no joke.

You blinked at him, a deer in headlights holding a tub of ice cream. “Are— Are you sure? It’s not like I actually need them—”

Satoru wanted nothing more than to see you drowning in his clothes. Instead, he said, “Yeah, I don’t care.”

He shrugged off his jacket and offered it to you. He felt a gust of cold, which should’ve been wrong to him, but he didn’t pay it any mind when you took it from him and stared at it. Your gaze shifted hesitantly between him and the red fabric. Your bottom lip started trembling before you bit it between your teeth, something Satoru wouldn’t have caught if he wasn’t staring. You whirled around and shoved the tub of ice cream in your mini fridge. What a shame. He was really planning for you to share it with him.

Satoru stood up, kicking at the box. He asked, “What were you doing before I left? Boring stuff? Were you watching sad movies without ice cream? It’s a good thing I came over.”

“You didn’t have to, I’m fine,” you said. You slipped into his jacket, the sight arresting him for a moment.

Satoru frowned. Something was definitely wrong. Maybe you were feeling tired? You must have been—emotions tend to wear out a person faster than any physical means. “Hey, lie down on the bed. You look like you’re about to crash.”

“I’m not,” you muttered but followed anyway because you must have felt it, too. “I’m not.”

You winced as your head collided with your pillow. It was unusual for you to succumb to rest while Satoru lingered in the same space.

“Sorry,” Satoru choked out, suddenly feeling guilty by the strong urge to embrace you. He was already crossing far too many lines today. He didn’t want to taint your memory of heartbreak from your ex with him.

You turned to face him, your hair splayed all over the pillow. “What?”

“For yesterday. I didn’t know. This, I mean.”

“You read the messages?”

He nodded. “I did.”

“That’s it? You’re not—” You yawned, blinking. Satoru was performing the highest level of restraint at the moment. “I mean, you’re not, like…”

The air was charged with something dangerous. Satoru looked away, thinking. He wanted to ask, did you expect me to care that much? But he knew the answer to that—he does.

“Satoru,” you said lowly. He shivered at the quiet of the night and how he can almost feel your voice. “You shouldn’t be so nice to someone heartbroken. Don’t you know how dangerous that is?”

Satoru sat on the edge of your bed, “That doesn’t make any sense.”

You looked up at him. Satoru felt want in his belly. It was dangerous, he realized, for him to be alone with you like this. It was wrong—but he never went doing everything right anyway, if it meant he could watch as your eyes flutter, as you longed for something he could never have from you once the wounds on you have healed.

“Doesn’t it?” you said. “You’re confusing me, too.”

Satoru realized his Infinity had been off already, though he didn’t know when. Was it when he sat on the bed to feel the softness of your sheets? Or was it already back then, the moment you opened the door, he was already longing for you to touch him?

“You’re so cruel, Satoru,” you murmured. “I hate you.”

Weakly, Satoru said, “I know. Get some sleep. I’ll leave soon.”

“Don’t leave.”

Satoru screwed his eyes shut, frustrated.

“Satoru.” He could listen to you say his name forever. You sighed his name in a way that felt like what aches in his heart whenever you even look at him.  “You didn’t read the messages, did you?”

“Did I miss something?”

“If you want to kiss me so bad, read it.”

His eyes shot open wide, a bit terrified. “What?” he said, dumbstruck. “Y/N— What?”

Clumsily, with no grace whatsoever, he fumbled with his phone, your words racing in his head. If you want to kiss me, read it. He bluescreened. If you want to kiss me—

you satoru doesnt read the messages here, right?

you i hate him if i never met him maybe i wouldnt have figured that i was not content with the love i had

you how do i even deal with this? i got dumped by my bf and he tells me if i love satoru so much why not just date him instead

you i love him can someone please comfort me

shoko oh no

shoko condolences for liking the most insufferable man on planet earth

suguru im sorry he’s an asshole you deserve better y/n

shoko the trashiest asshole are you sure about this?

you more than anything, unfortunately

Wait.

The asshole they were referring to was Satoru?

Wait.

Satoru jolts up from where he had been hunched over his phone, gaping at you. “Y/N,” he whispered reverently. “Y/N!”

You placed a hand on his chest as he moved towards you, preventing him from crashing into your space. He faltered. “Wait,” you laughed softly, languidly, beautifully, “not now. I’m sleepy.”

“No, fuck that,” he said, helpless. “Y/N!”

“It’s your fault for not reading our group chat.”

‘Kay, well. Satoru’s eyes narrowed like a cat prepared to pounce. “You can’t just make me read that and keep me from you like this. Why were you so mad at me yesterday?”

“Because I love you, and now my life is over,” you said, smiling.

“Say that again,” he demanded. 

“My life is over?”

Satoru was seconds away from crying. “Y/N, please,” he said, “say you love me again. Say it now.”

He held the hand on his chest and kissed it. Kissed it again, the back of your palm, your fingertips, repeating the same three words.

“I love you?” you said.

“Well, don’t sound so unsure about it.”

You laughed. “Do you even like me back?”

Satoru stared from the rim of his glasses. Instead of replying, he tugged you closer with your arm and kissed your jaw. He hoped you would get it—that you would understand. He loved you first.

“More than anything,” he echoed. He looked into your eyes, your lips, torn. “Please, let me kiss you. You’re hurting me.”

“Oh, I get a please now?”

Satoru’s eyes sharply dart down to your lips. Your grin faltered at the intensity of his stare. You swallowed, and he tracked every movement.

“You look a bit manic right now,” you said nervously.

“I’ll show you manic.”

You smiled, bumping your ankle against his back. When he glanced at it, you inched closer. His heart leaped to his throat, threatening to come out and get you.

“Are you seriously going to make a move on me now? My heart is broken, Satoru.”

“Is it really?” He grinned. “Or is it just split with me?”

“Okay, smartass,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Just kiss me already.”

Satoru cut the distance between the two of you. He crashed clumsily, making both of you wince, but he tilted his head and suddenly— much better. He held you closer, hoping he could wipe away any other men from your life with all he could offer—him, needy, longing, crazed.

“Satoru—” you tried, but it was swallowed by his mouth, wishing you could breathe his name from your lips to his. This was almost as good as hearing you say you love him anyway.

[rocksibblingsau]

Now you got me wondering, How would Funk Branch interact with the royal family, r&b, and lownote jones?

With Quincy and Essence there are some things that are spoilers for Rock Sibblings, but just know things are rocky at first! For outside reasons as well as the fact that Branch simply never really had parents for very long, let alone TWO parents (excluding temporary fosters). He was raised by his grandma. The two are just as patient as Thrash is, so they do eventually make progress with him and by the time of adulthood they're a close knit family.

Quincy and Essence encourage him to explore various interests and they are always great listeners. They love Branch a lot, but Branch doesn't replace what they lost.

As a kid, Darnell didn't initially get along well with Branch. Neither wanted the other as a brother. Branch for obvious reasons and Darnell because he wanted his brother, not a replacement. Over time they warm up to each other under the agreement they're just friends, but that eventually falls away and they're brothers. It's a learning curve for Branch to be a big brother, and he comes to find that he could never imagine leaving D the way his brothers left him. Even the thought of moving out of their parents house to next door feels like abandoning D. He also carries some guilt over the fact that this should be Cooper, but D is always quick to reassure him that he'd never trade Branch for Cooper. He'd love to have both his brothers, but if he can't then... well, he's happy with how things turned out.

Branch is the first one that D tells about his idea for Hip Hop. If anyone would be open to a subgenre, it's his adopted Pop-turned-Funk brother. Branch of course supports him, and even dabbles in Hip Hop himself, maybe even being Hip Hop as well.

When Cooper does reunite with D, that fear of abandonment is there again. The fear that Branch was just a replacement that D doesn't need anymore. D however grabs Branch's hand and pulls him over to Cooper and introduces them. Cooper's surprised on all fronts, but especially that Grey Branch was a good older brother to his twin. Hearing about how good of brother Branch was to D makes Cooper feel bad for how Branch was treated by Pop Village. Cooper was an odd one out, and if he had only tried, the two could have been friends. It's clear that Branch wasn't AGAINST caring about people like he'd thought.

The three become a little trio, with Cooper happy to go from 0 brothers to 2 in the span of a day.

Lownote Jones is used to everyone adoring him, normally just from his voice alone or his charms. While Branch can certainly notice both of those, he doesn't act like other people around Lownote, which he really likes. Branch actually becomes interested in Lownote due to Lownote's reputation as a scientist and pilot. Lownote isn't aware of this at first, and is kind of disappointed by the change, but in a 'oh well, it was nice while it lasted' kind of way before he realizes Branch is actually just more interested in the things he says rather than the "smooth cadence of his voice". The two are VERY good friends and Branch is introduced to Funk science by Lownote. Branch gives a very interesting outside perspective...

Which ties into how he interacts with R and B! He reins them in when they get too ahead of themselves and reminds them of the basics. He doesn't always get along with them, often finding some of their stuff too over the top. ("Why does the machine that opens a bottle have to be this big? Can't it be bottle opener sizes?" "How else will it fit the boombox?" "Why does a bottle opener need a BOOMBOX?" "Why not?") Though he can get wrapped up in it as well (See Holiday in Harmony and his gift to Poppy) sometimes.

Lownote shakes his head in disappoint at BroZone, meanwhile R and B contemplate the ethics of a machine that either 'removes jerkness' or 'squashes washed-up boy band members into ball shape and knocks them into space with a mallet'.

[rintoshis-archived]

Hiii if your requests are open also sorry if they arent you can just completely ignore this message cause u dont have a pinned yet

But can i request platonic friendship headcanons with bachira and isagi?

Thank you in advance

─ BACHIRA ⸜ ISAGI ꒰ა ໒꒱ AEAO

HI BAE !! yes yes and sorry i don't have enough time to make my pinned post but ill for sure make one! also this request was so cute ^^ i couldn't help but think about dynamicduo when i hear them together >< anyways enjoy! . *. ⋆ warnings; nothing really, cute moments with their silly little shenanigans, intentional lower capitals ✧. word count: 475, 366

you almost felt your eardrums burst from meguru's high-pitched scream he let out in your left ear. this car ride was hell, even if there were places worse than hell, it would be crushed in the backseat with isagi and bachira. you could feel your legs cramping from the lack of space isagi's manspreading on the right side. you were inevitably squashed in between them. it didn't help when you were sitting on the hard material of the seatbelt right on your ass.

meguru and isagi's moms offered to drive you three to the arcade because the mall they were going to was awfully close to it. ''gosh.. seeing meguru go out with his friends like this.. makes my heart soft.'' yu's eyes almost water as her hands trembled on the steering wheel. ''mom, don't cry please.'' meguru told his mom, almost feeling embarrassed as his figure only sank further in the seat. you knew bachira was a talented individual and you didn't quite understand what his mom had just said.

isagi looked like he knew this feeling all too well. ''there's nothing to be embarrassed about, meguru.'' isagi's mom butt in as she turned her head to look at the three of you fighting over even just a space to breathe easily in. ''i remember isagi also never been the social butterfly like his dad was. the friends he only ever took home were the soccer team.'' i let out a small laugh as i saw the neon-lit arcade from the road. ''here should be fine, thank you so much for- meguru!'' meguru had already opened the door and dashed inside the arcade.

isagi waited for you to finish your farewells and bid his mom a quick ''goodbye, mom'' too. bachira's mom rolled down the window to give us three a small wave and drove away. meguru looked like a ticking time bomb while looking at what was inside of the arcade. people were scattered everywhere and no space wasn't filled with rainbow blinding lights that only enticed bachira further.

your almost popped out of their sockets once they landed on the bright rainbow glowing sign on top of the building. you weren't the type to go around and hang out at places and waste away the time you could use to be more productive. but since meguru and isagi kindly invited you to hang out together outside bluelock. ''c'mon, y/n! it'll be fun, promise.'' bachira grabs you by your hand and drags you inside of the building to go explore. isagi follows behind and gives you a small smile of reassurance.

''yeah, it would be more worth it to spend all your time outside of bluelock having fun, right?'' you three spot a basketball game and a bumper car area. safe to say, you three almost got kicked out 6 times already.

ㄔ    ִ  alright now onto the headcanons c:

ㄔ    ִ  bachira definitely accidentally threw a basketball at a kid once.

ㄔ    ִ  isagi helped meguru climb the machine to keep shooting the ball inside the ring to get like 1000 tickets or something 💀💀

ㄔ    ִ  isagi knows every single hack to win every prize you wanted in claw games.

ㄔ    ִ  bachira fought a kid to get to play in one of the games; ''you've been in this seat for so long, kid!'' bachira whined while watching the kid stick out his tongue to him, but he bit back by sticking out his tongue back.

ㄔ    ִ  isagi is a boss at those coin pusher machines and always manages to waste every one of your coins but ends up making the whole tower fall

ㄔ    ִ  a worker at the arcane had to hold bachira back and when i tell you they had to HOLDDD him back, i say HOLDDDDD him back.

ㄔ    ִ  like it took them 3 workers to hold him back from knocking a kid out for ruining his win streak or something.

ㄔ    ִ  you and isagi for sure always team up for those zombie gun shooting games.

ㄔ    ִ  bachira would absolutely destroy those DDR machines. (the arrow dance machine where you step on them) like you and isagi had to pry him away from the machine to go check out other games cuz he's been there for like 43 minutes.

ㄔ    ִ  like i can just imagine bachira dancing to one of those hyper-pop songs on the ddr machine.

ㄔ    ִ  you and meguru literally almost broke the wack-a-mole machine cause meguru pulled a mole out of the hole.

ㄔ    ִ  isagi is the type of kid to eat all of the cotton candy.

ㄔ    ִ  bachira definitely climbed on isagi's back while he was rollerskating. the kids were giving them the stink eye while you were literally struggling to stand on your two left feet.

ㄔ    ִ  at the end of the day, you three got kicked out for wreaking havoc in the arcade.

ㄔ    ִ  (you three got banned from it for the rest of your life.)

‧₊˚ ⋅ fusaes 2023 do not copy - a/n: send in an ask to request this with any other duo you want from blue lock c:

[cyber-corp]

A review of JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: Part 3

By a guy who initially had no interest in this series whatsoever

For the longest time, I had absolutely zero interest in watching, reading, or even engaging with JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure. The tone seemed too bombastic, the humour too out of leftfield and the fanbase too obnoxious. But after watching the anime adaptations of parts 1 and 2 and becoming interested in the rest of the series (and reading a bit of Steel Ball Run, which I quite enjoyed), I decided to read part 3 of JoJo, Stardust Crusaders, out of a morbid curiosity.

What I didn’t expect was a full-on and astounding journey across the world that never lets up and never slows itself down to think. And I felt mesmerised by every single page, every line of dialogue, and every illustration.

Stardust Crusaders’ main JoJo is Jotaro Kujo, a stoic Eastwood-esque high school (?!?) delinquent who likes telling women to piss off and has a special ability known as a Stand called Star Platinum, able to release a flurry of brutal punches at will and do with absolute precision.

All six of the Crusaders themselves (which does include the dog. don’t worry about it) have their own unique Stand and abilities, each of them named after a different Tarot card. Joseph Joestar, (who has skipped DILF birth and went straight to GILF birth), is easily my favourite of the six, as even though he’s gracefully aged and matured, he’s still the same old silly goober from all those years ago. Polnareff is my second favourite, I initially felt indifferent towards him, but soon began to adore this comical Frenchman and his entire arc.

The plot of the story follows the Crusaders on an eventful journey to Cairo, as the number one hater from Phantom Blood, DIO, has returned after 100 years, leeching off of Jonathan Joestar’s body. We don’t get to see much of him until the final confrontation, where he nearly convinces Polnareff to join him, kills Kakyoin by stopping time with his stand THE WORLD, takes Joseph’s soul, and squashes Jotaro with a ROADOROLLA. The only reason he loses is that Jotaro is so unreasonably buffed that he can move while DIO’s stand is active, giving him the opportunity to ORAORAORA him into next Tuesday.

I personally feel that DIO might just be the best villain not just in JoJo, but one of the best entirely. His ability to get his own way and his burning desire to end the Joestar bloodline from Part 1 has been amped up to 11, and it makes him, along with his Stand, THE WORLD, nearly unstoppable. He’s a blunt force with no humanity, and does whatever suits his needs. People either fall against him and perish, or fall with him and submit themselves to his grace. He’s become quite the behemoth when you compare him to what he was doing in Part 1. From kicking dogs to forcing someone he doesn’t know to drive after Jotaro and psychologically torturing them. How far the haters go…

If I could use one word to sum up Stardust Crusaders, it would be “ambitious”. It’s nearly double the length of the first two parts combined, and nearly thrice as varied in setting and tone. From Japan, to the gleaming cities of Singapore to the slums of India and the sandy deserts of Arabia, it nearly stops to sit in one place. Hirohiko Araki has stated that he was less inspired by the other shonen comics of the time and more into road movies like Around The World in 80 Days, which gives this part such a unique international flair. There’s also 2 dozen enemies the guys have to face along their way to Egypt, some of which provide interesting looks into the main characters’ inner machinations, and some are monkeys who smoke and commit sexual assault.

The overall theming of JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure is humanity’s insane ability to overcome seemingly impossible odds in order to become greater, and this couldn’t be more prevalent than in Stardust Crusaders. DIO is a cruel, unrelenting beast who has already sacrificed his own humanity in order to further achieve his goal of ending the Joestar bloodline once and for all. This makes him a perfect mirror to the Crusaders, who plan to stop DIO in order to prevent Jotaro’s mother, Holly, from dying. This motivation based in love of course triumphs over all, and also leads to one of the greatest spurs within the entire medium of manga.

Stardust Crusaders is full of genuine heart, wit, and genuinely kicks ass all the way through. Reading it is truly unlike anything else. It’s a pastiche of shonen tropes, gothic literature, westerns, 80s action flicks and so much more. I can truly see now why JoJo has the reputation it does. If this was the only part of JoJo ever written, it would still be fantastic.

A true celebration of humanity from beginning to end. Go read it if you can.

[planetpiastri]

and if i say 19 with hangman 🤭🤭🤭 ily -allie

allie!!!! ur brain is massive this killed me (real) hope u enjoy xx @spideystevie

19. meeting each other at a kissing booth

word count - 1.6k

As you milled around the carnival, caramel candy apple in hand, you wondered just who exactly had signed off on this “fundraiser.” As if the pilots at TOPGUN needed more money. But when your best friend had dragged you here, their eyes sparkling with excitement at the thought of getting to flirt with some active-duty aviators, you hadn’t exactly argued.

The dunk tank had been oddly satisfying, you had to admit, and you’d walked away from the ring toss with a teddy bear of your own. Sure, maybe it wasn’t the seven-foot-tall one that nearly squashed the glasses-clad pilot who had been running the game, but that wasn’t the point. Even the annoying blond pilot who’d wiped the floor with the competition at the dart-balloon game (come on, the pilots weren’t even supposed to be playing tonight) wasn’t enough to ruin your good mood.

As you stood in line for the Skee-Ball machines, waiting your turn, your friend suddenly re-emerged from the crowd, talking so fast you couldn’t understand a word they were saying.

“Wait,” you said, biting back a laugh, “wait, wait, slow down! What’s happening?”

Your friend didn’t say anything, just grabbed you by the hand and started dragging you farther down the main thoroughfare, away from the Skee-Ball machines, completely ignoring your protests and questions. It wasn’t until you started to hear music—Kissing Strangers by DNCE, of course—and the brilliantly illuminated sign held over a small, curtained platform that you realized what was happening.

“Oh no,” you said.

It was a TOPGUN kissing booth, subtitles proudly inviting carnival-goers to give $5 for the opportunity to lock lips with an active-duty naval aviator.

“No way,” you said. 

“I only have a ten dollar bill,” said your friend.

“So just kiss someone twice!” you blurted, feeling panicked.

But your friend just grinned and pulled you into line. You barely had time to toss the rest of your candy apple into a bin.

There were two podiums on top of the small stage, with two different pilots in their white service dress. You remembered that the white uniforms were supposed to symbolize peace or something, and pushed down a snicker. The line chattered, anticipation hanging heavy in the air. There was something absurdly juvenile about it all, but you had to admit that it was addicting, and you found yourself getting excited.

Both pilots had signs taped to their podiums, telling people their callsigns. To the right, it read ‘Fritz,’ and to the left it read ‘Payback.’ It seemed like the pilot working the booth was assigning kisses at random, and you glanced between both aviators, nervous about who you’d end up locking lips with.

Before you knew it, you and your friend were next in line, standing in front of the pilot in his khakis, sorting the five-dollar bills people were handing over. Just as your friend started to hand over the ten-dollar bill, the pilot known as Fritz stepped down from his podium and whispered something in the third’s ear.

The third—his nametag said ‘Garcia’—nodded and clapped Fritz on the shoulder, saying, “You’re good. Should be Hangman or Bradshaw back there, send either one out.”

“You’re the best, man,” said Fritz before jogging back onto the stage and disappearing behind the red curtain, already undoing one of the buttons at his throat.

“You paying for both?” Garcia asked your friend, taking the ten dollar bill. When your friend nodded, he said, “Alright, you’re with Payback, you’re with whoever’s next.”

“Okay,” squeaked your friend, sending you an excited smile before stepping up onto the platform and standing across from Payback’s podium. The pilot shot them a charming smile and they just about wilted.

“Where does this money go?” you asked Garcia suddenly, trying to calm your nerves with some small talk. “Surely the military doesn’t need more funding.”

Garcia laughed. “It’s for charity,” he said. “I think prostituting ourselves and keeping the money is a violation of some kind.”

“Oh,” you said. “Oh, that’s nice.”

Feeling a little better, but not that much, you climbed the stage, heading towards the unmanned podium and feeling like every eye was on you. You drummed your fingers nervously on top of the podium, wondering who was about to come out. You didn’t have to wait long; as if on cue, the curtain twitched open and another white-clad aviator stepped out.

Oh no.

It was the pilot from the balloon-darts.

“Sorry for the wait,” he said, adjusting his shirt and stopping in front of you. “I know you must’ve been dying of curiosity.”

“Something like that,” you said.

“You just gotta wait a couple more seconds, doll,” he said, winking at you before walking over to Garcia, who handed him his callsign tag for the podium. You watched as he confidently, assuredly stuck it slightly crooked against the post.

Hangman.

Over his shoulder, your friend was already kissing Payback. You realized you’d already been up here longer than most people.

“There we go,” said Hangman, straightening up. “Whenever you’re ready—”

You seized him by the lapels and hauled his mouth against yours, planning on mumbling out a cool, “Let’s get this over with,” but not having enough time.

If Hangman was surprised by your forwardness, he didn’t show it. His hands, big and sturdy, grabbed your waist, offering a calming and stabilizing pressure as his lips threatened to knock you off your feet. 

All those people who’d said fighter pilots knew what they were doing weren’t kidding; or at least they weren’t kidding about this fighter pilot.

He turned his head, your mouth falling open almost instinctively as he kissed you deeper. He tasted like something sweet, like kettle corn, or maybe caramel. Later, you’d realize that this wasn’t usually how kissing booth smooches usually went down, but at the moment, the only thought in your head was more. 

Your hands skated up over his lapels and wrapped around the back of his neck, and the hands at your waist tightened intoxicatingly. Your stomach was pressing against the sharp corner of the podium as you strained to move closer, and you could feel him doing the same. 

Someone in the crowd whooped, and you jerked back with a gasp, wiping at your mouth.

Hangman blinked, that cocky facade momentarily paused. “Uh,” he said.

“Worth the five bucks, I’d say,” you panted, your cheeks already getting hot. Oh my god, everyone had just seen you making out with a pilot. 

A smile slowly curled up the corner of Hangman’s mouth. He was still leaning over the podium, looking up at you with an expression that just made you want to grab him and kiss him senseless—again. “My thoughts exactly,” he crooned.

You glanced back towards the line to the booth, realizing everyone—even Garcia—was staring at you with wide, impressed eyes. You took another step back from Hangman, almost stumbling, your hands still touching the corners of your mouth. You couldn’t meet his eyes when you said, “Uh—I’ll see you around, I guess. Have a nice night.”

“See you around,” he replied, his voice carrying over the stage and getting a chuckle out of the gathered crowd. Your cheeks burned, but you didn’t look back, walking determinedly back in the direction of the Skee-Ball. You didn’t even particularly want to play Skee-Ball anymore, you just needed to do something with your hands that wasn’t making out with Hangman.

God, you didn’t even know his name!

Your friend had vanished after their kiss with Payback—probably to go flirt with that pilot running the ring toss some more. You were fine with that. Maybe they hadn’t seen your kiss.

Maybe an hour later, you were on a winning streak at Skee-Ball, zoning out and doing anything but thinking about what had happened earlier. When you felt a tap on your shoulder, you figured it was your friend, so you just said, “Gimme a minute, I’m almost done.”

“Kissing and Skee-Ball. Is there anything you aren’t good at?”

You whirled around, warmth already rising in your face again as you realized Hangman himself was standing behind you, dressed in simple jeans and a tee-shirt now. The sight of him out of his uniform was enough to stop the embarrassed word vomit that was about to spill out. Instead, you pulled together your scrambled thoughts enough to say, “You’re done at the booth?”

He shrugged. “We’re not allowed to work longer than an hour at a time.”

You fought back a smile. “Poor you.”

He grinned down at you, but you twisted your mouth into a tight spiral, refusing to let him know how charming you found him. “What do you want?” you asked, not meaning for it to sound so impatient.

“Right, my bad,” he said, blinking and seeming to remember something. He fumbled with his pockets, and you were shocked to see him fumble with anything. From your limited view of him tonight, he hadn’t seemed like a guy that did much fumbling. But eventually he pulled out his phone and held it toward you, saying, “Can I get your number?”

Your mouth fell open in surprise. “Seriously?”

He smirked, but it didn’t seem cocky or rude now. “What can I say? Nothing compares to your first.”

You snorted, taking his phone and punching your number in. “I think the saying is, ‘nobody forgets their first.’”

“That too.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling in spite of yourself and stepping to the side so that he wasn’t essentially pinning you to the Skee-Ball machine. “I’ll see you around, Hangman.”

“Wait,” he called. “My name is—”

“Save it,” you interrupted, waving a nonchalant hand. “Text me.”

And you walked back into the carnival to find your friend, a warm and pleased flush filling your whole body.

[inevitablysomber-dark]

Shackled (Chapter 14)

(I couldn't quite find a gif I was looking for so this is as close as I could get to what I wanted)

Dark! Rafe Cameron x Pogue! Reader

Warning: There are some intense, dubiously consenting and nonconsensual sexual themes in this series, MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY. MINORS DNI.

Summary: You hate Outer Banks with a passion and are working hard to get out despite all the obstacles in your way. Rafe himself eventually becomes one of those obstacles after a night of low impulse control. Will you be able to overcome him or with you have no choice but to submit.

Slow Burn

Series Masterlist

It was a failure. 

You limp down to the docks, sitting on a bench where no other bodies were found. 

You needed to be alone and didn't think you could face another person in your condition. 

You went to Barry's just to be rejected before giving your proposal. Your loyalty and consistency all these years meant nothing, as he seemed to already have his mind made up before you arrived.

You tried returning home, hoping to crash on the couch, but the house was riddled with police officers and yellow tape. And it seemed that the backyard had been dug out.

Was your father serious when he mentioned what he possibly had done to your mother?

With nowhere to go, you found yourself at the docks, near the marsh. 

Now you were stuck on this god-forsaken island with no home, money, family... nothing. 

You could feel tears forming at your hopelessness as frustration creeps up the base of your neck. 

You lay your head back as you find it increasingly more difficult to breathe,  heat from the sun beating down on your body as it was midday. 

"Hey," you open your eyes to find Pope Heyward standing in front of you, and what seems to be concern painting his eyes. 

You shut your eyes since keeping them open took too much energy. "May I help you?" you ask. 

"Are you ok?" you felt a bit of movement as his body hovered, shielding you from the sun. "You don't look too good."

"I'm fine," you just wanted to be left alone, was that so hard?

"You don't sound too good either," he states, ignoring your sentiment. 

"I think she needs help." another voice states this one more feminine. You assume it was Kiara since she was the only girl besides Sarah who kept Pope's company.

The island was small, and with a rag-tag group like theirs, it was difficult to not know who they were.

This time you don't open your eyes, fatigue has quickly settled in your body. Doing anything at this point would be futile. 

Irritation suddenly began to bubble at your helplessness, and you needed to vent. 

"You know what pisses me off," your voice sounded weak and stiff. "I worked so hard to get away from this place, and it all disappeared in one night," you ball your hands, trying to push your body to do something, anything. 

"You both were given the opportunity to do something with your lives, and you squashed it." you try to push your body up. "How is that fair?" your voice barely a whisper, and your attempt at moving found you on the ground.

"H-hey, be careful, don't - Kie, go get help - don't move, we'll get you some help." 

You knew what he said, you just couldn't register the meaning behind his words. "How is that fair?" you whispered again, as your body relaxed in a moment of peace and darkness overtook your consciousness.

"Wait, stay awake," were the last words you heard before a peaceful slumber took you. 

***

You constantly fell in and out of consciousness, taking in pieces of evidence as you drifted. You knew you were at the hospital, hooked up to many machines, and you were pretty sure you were handcuffed to the bed this time. 

Of the handful of times you found yourself awake, you thought you saw Rafe or Sarah. You weren't sure, so you couldn't say. 

When you were finally fully awake, you found your vitals being taken by Nurse Annie Rose. When she finally does look your way, she gasps and, in a low whisper, asks. "Blink once if you're awake."

"Why do I have to blink if I can talk?" Your voice is very raw and scratchy. The sudden movement of your vocal cords has you choking on your own spit. 

"That's why." she pulls a straw from her coat pocket and puts it in a bedside pitch before putting it to your lips. Cool water falls into your body as you greedily pull from the straw. Damn, you were thirsty. 

"Honestly, the first thing you give me when you wake up is an attitude," when she hears that I've emptied the pitcher, she removes it from my lips. "You young ones just have no respect these days, huh?" she moves the straw to another jug and puts it to your lips, the water wasn't as cool, but it still felt good going down. 

"You were out for a few days, so you're gonna be thirsty for a bit, I'll have someone bring in more water for you," once you've emptied the jug, she sets it down before placing her hands on her hips. 

"Now, why would you sneak out of the hospital in your condition?" she looks disappointed " You're in worse shape than you were the first time. What were you thinking?"

It all came back at once your father, the bank, Kelly, Barry... So much had happened in the last several days, and you just couldn't catch a break. 

Tears began to roll down your cheeks. 

"I can't afford this, Annie, I nothing...and no one," you sniffle and wince from the pain it caused. 

"Oh honey, I wouldn't say you have no one," she comforts, moving over as she gestures to a sleeping figure on the recliner next to the window.

Your stomach drops, and you sob even harder, elevating your body's pain. You didn't mean to, but it wakes him up. As soon as he sees your eyes are opened, he quickly moves toward you, concern etched on his face, as your sobs become uncontrollable.

"Oh dear," Annie says before pulling a syringe from her coat pocket.

"What's wrong with her? What are you doing?" Rafe asks.

"She seems to be having an episode." you feel a prick in your arm as she holds on to it. "This should help you relax a bit, dear." when she pulls it out, you feel your body relax into the bed. 

"What happened?" Rafe asked, never taking his eyes off you. 

"Her situation is a lot to take in now. We should give her a moment to reflect while she's relaxed, and she should be fine by the time medication wears off. "

You close your eyes as black clouds overtake your vision.

"She should be fine in about 12 hrs," 

***

As you wake, you can feel someone playing with your fingers. Your eyes flutter open as you take in your surroundings, noting the man beside you. 

You felt so tired and lethargic. Your fingers twitch as you attempt to move, catching Rafe's attention as he looks towards you. He looks back down at your fingers as he moves them around. 

"We'll pay your hospital bills," he says, still holding on to your fingers " And I'll take you home and nurse you back to health" he puts your hand down and looks you in the eyes. "But then you have to do something for me."

You swallow, scared of what the something might be.

"We don't have to worry about it now, we'll discuss it when you're better, but you do have to agree to it now,"

You were scared, but what choice did you have? Your two options were Rafe or dying somewhere random in the cut. You could figure out a way out of this later, but right now, you couldn't do this on your own, and you were too scared to try. 

You squeezed the finger he had against your head and nodded. 

"Help me," you whispered.

He breathed relief before placing a chaste kiss against your lips.

"You're mine now, and I'll take care of you."

[lunacornfan2k24]

So I’ve been having thoughts that I never thought that I would ever have…I’m thinking specifically about Fabricator

Full disclaimer: Fabby has never been my favorite ieytd character, she gave me major Kikimora from the owl house vibes whom I’ve never liked

However, I think Fabby is having her creativity squashed in Zoraxis

Fabby used to be a fashion designer before joining Zoraxis. She enjoys making clothing and machines that are fashionable, functional, and deadly. But, before we meet her in ieytd 2, the machines that she creates aren’t very stylish.

(Yes I know having fabby be the designer for those things is likely a retcon but it’s in the games so I’m counting them as her designs)

The blueprints from Zors car from friendly skies are in Fabby’s workshop. The car is based on a Rolls Royce from 1925 which if you look up what that looks like from the outside, doesn’t quite match what we see in game. The car in ieytd has square doors while every picture I can find of a 1925 Rolls Royce Phantom I Jonckheere Coupe has these beautiful round doors that a designer like Fabby wouldn’t not include unless she was asked to. It is Zors car after all and Zor likely wanted square doors instead, stifling Fabby’s style.

The blueprints for the “gren-egg” from Squeaky clean are also in her workshop and does not have any style to it whatsoever. It’s a giant green ball that is easily dismantled by some quick TK work. What kind of name is “gren-egg” anyway? It sounds like a bad pun that someone else came up with (my money’s on Daniel Sans). Quite frankly it’s giving brutalist with handles. I’m sure if they had given Fabby free range to do whatever she liked, the design would have been more visually elegant.

Lastly, the kinesium explosion testing in hot water for ieytd 3. They look like you standard ocean mines. You could argue that the kinesium mines and the gren-egg were built knowing that their only purpose was to explode, but fabricator would try to design everything to be worthy of the fabricator name, even if it wasn’t going to last long.

You’ll notice that I completely skipped over her machines from ieytd 2. There’s a reason for that. Our handler tells us the very first time that we ever meet the fabricator that she normally doesn’t take center stage in Zoraxis schemes, she’d prefer to keep her Zoraxis work behind the scenes. So why doesn’t she do that for the second game, going so far to be the stage manager for the play that’s only a distraction to capture the Prime Minister?

Maybe because she knows a big time star like John Juniper has high expectations when it comes to the aesthetics of the plan. The literal Masque of the red death was gorgeous and had the red stripes like a sports car. She could’ve made it all red but instead it looks chic and ominous.

The mimic mask is like fucking artwork. It’s stylish, it’s functional, it’s slim, and it’s incredibly impressive feat of engineering. Everything else she’s built is nothing compared to the beauty of the mimic mask. (The alliteration of the name is also way more elegant than “gren-egg”). There’s a reason why everyone in the fandom is obsessed with it! Everything else that she makes in ieytd is beautiful including everything on juniper’s plane.

That’s what Fabby can do when she’s pushed to be her very best…and that’s not what Zoraxis does for her.

Zoraxis stifles her creativity and doesn’t let her shine. She had to become more involved with a scheme with John Juniper of all people to truly be challenged and build some of her best creations. I can’t blame her for stepping out into a bigger role just for the opportunity to have more creative freedom.

People have pointed out that Fabby sounds tired in the voice recordings we have from ieytd 3 and I think they’re right. It could be for any number of reasons but I think that she sounds tired because she’s not being challenged in terms of style in her creations.

But maybe that’s how she normally sounds. Maybe ieytd 2 was Fabby thriving but the rest of the time she’s bored with the work Zoraxis is having her do. Granted, I don’t know shit about engineering so a lot of the style could be in the inner workings of the machines, but why can���t her style be on the outside as well as on the inside if her creations?

Zoraxis is stifling her creativity and I can’t blame Fabricator lacking steam in the third game. Personally, I can see Fabby eventually burning herself out or following the steps of Anna, Solaris, and Roxana and leaving Zoraxis.

[apas-95]

goddddd i fucking love potato knishes. luckily i just bought more machines to create little black squash balls

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

The wanderer: Pt 1

I loved my ball. It had been with me for a dozen years, since I was but a child. To the untrained eye, it was a generic squishy ball, the sort you might find in a child's playset. But if you asked me, I could think of a dozen fond memories with it, playing with friends at parties, bouncing it while I was bored, squeezing it in my hand as I cried. It was, for all of its lack of anthropomorphism, a friend. Sure, seventeen year olds were a bit too old to play with toys, but I had always had a childish streak.

That was why, when it rolled into a drain, I jumped after it without a second thought. The drain was narrow, too short for me to stand fully, so I knelt to get in. My shoulders and hips were twisted to the side awkwardly, one leg trailing behind the other like I was lunging, but I kept shuffling forward.

It was dark, too. Light filtered through the fixed grilles, creating a patchwork of bright and dark that guided me. As I went on, my front knee aching from the strain, rough stone rubbing against my sides, I began worrying.

Had I missed the ball? It seemed like I had been walking on forever. It occurred to me that I wasn't quite sure how to back out again. I couldn't turn around, and moving backwards would be a laborious process. The pain in my legs grew, and so did my panic.

The stone seemed to entomb me, rubbing against my back and chest, keeping me from breathing deeply. What if I was trapped here, forever? Would anyone hear me when I screamed? Still I kept moving. Stupid, blind loyalty to my ball would not allow me to back out.

I wanted to crack my neck, but there just wasn't enough space. The hand that I used to support myself began burning, the skin rubbed raw. I was coated in a layer of dirty water and dust, my clothes clinging to me. Still I kept moving. It was too late to back out, now.

The lights became further and further apart, grilles turning to thick concrete slabs. Was the passageway narrowing? I felt squashed, compressed into a cube. Everything burned. Still I kept moving.

My breath came in shuddering gasps. It was so dark. Where was the light? I wanted to collapse, my thighs trembling with the agony of constant weight. But if I fell now, I would not get back up.

So I kept moving.

And eventually I reached an exit, where the drain led to an opening. Light, proper sunlight, shone in an uninterrupted ray. And where it fell sat my ball, haloed like an angel. I pushed myself forward and grabbed it, just as my legs gave in. Collapsing, I clutched my ball to my chest and rested.

After an indecipherable amount of time, I got up. My back ached, but the worst was over. Figuring that I could just follow the drain back home, instead of taking the gruelling underground route, I stepped out into the light.

I had no idea where I was, save that it was filthy. A layer of grime and rust coated every surface, and the light highlighted smog in the air. Suddenly the drain seemed to be a fine way back home.

Was it a scrapyard? There were machine parts scattered in heaps, serrated metal jutting out in piles. But there was flesh, too. Rotten, stinking corpses of things that were not human, their skeletons smashed to unrecognisable bits, blood like a dried up fountain staining the ground red-brown.

Was it a garbage heap? Perhaps a butchery was nearby, and these were the remains of their products. But the corpses were too whole for that, and they had been mauled rather than butchered. There was too much violence in the air, too much blood and fury.

So was I somewhere else entirely? I turned back to look at the fateful passageway. Here, in this strange place, it was a concrete tunnel, with walls and a ceiling thick enough to bear my weight. I stepped atop it, and began following it like a trail.

The desolation stretched as far as the eye could see, machine and monster intermingled endlessly. The sky was cloudless, the sun beating down on me relentlessly. The mud that was smeared all over me began to dry, leaving me caked in dirt. I fit right in, an explorer in a post-apocalyptic world.

Everything was red, from the viscera to the corrosion to the soil. Even the sun itself was a massive crimson globe hanging in a fiery sky. Only my little pathway home, my fateful drain, was a grey testament to a different colour.

My old taped-up sneakers were a blessing in that endless slog, the socks mercifully dry, even as my feet grumbled, a steady pain that was dwarfed by the anguish of the drain. I squeezed my precious ball repeatedly, as if to remind myself that it was still there, and kept a brisk pace.

It seemed that I was the only person for miles around. Nothing stirred in the red-brown meadow, not even buzzing flies laying eggs in putrefied flesh. Nothing breathed in the flesh-rotted air, not even carrion-vultures feasting on the dead. Nothing lived in the hellscape that I wandered, not even the crawling maggots that should have lurked in the rotten meat. I hummed to distract myself from the uneasiness of being all alone.

As if the sound awakened something, I heard a shrieking cry. It came from above, a haunting, sorrowful noise. 'Run,’ it seemed to say. 'This place is not for you. Whilst your heart still beats, you must leave.’

I heeded it, my pace quickening. The scream came again, closer this time. I looked up to see a great serpent in the sky. Blood gushed from a dozen wounds, and it released a third cry of agony. Even so, it twisted in the air magnificently, looping in the sky with peerless grace, silver scales glittering in the sun.

I stopped to stare, awestruck. Some things in this world can only be experienced, and the sight of that dragon was one of them. No words could describe the regality, the raw determination, the sheer terrifying power of it.

I was watching a god fall, and I knew it. My heart wenched as it released a final ululation, a serenade to the dying world, and hung in the air for an infinite moment.

Then it collapsed, dropping like a stone into the mass graveyard that surrounded me. When it landed, a thump resounded through the world, like the land itself had broken upon impact. The dead dragon was lost amidst the gore and gears, and I wept for it.

I wept for that dragon and the untold horrors of the world I wandered through. I wept for fear that I would never get home, for the pains in my body and the grime all over me. I wept and wept and wept, clutching my ball like a security blanket and walking all the while.

Finally, I let out a scream. It was a hoarse, thin thing, a poor mimicry of the full howl the serpent had produced, but it was all I could make.

When the cascade of tears subsided, I found myself standing at the end of the path. I was not home, not yet. But I had found something else, something that belonged to my world.

A train station.

[binauralbeast]

THIS MACHINE CREATES LITTLE BLACK SQUASH BALLS

[serfuzzypushover]

little black squash balls

this machine creates little black squash balls

i turn ✨potato pancakes✨

into little black squash balls

🥔➡️⚫

[historicattractions]

Do you remember what happened at the end of the first season of The Gilded Age? Neither do we!

This is the first in a series of posts outlining the characters of The Gilded Age, starting with...

The New Money Upstairs, aka The Russells!

Spoilers for season one below the cut.

Bertha's quest to burst through into the upper crust of NYC society incites much of the action of the show.

New Money Mommey: Bertha Russell

After being snubbed by the likes of Mrs.s Van Rijn, Fane and Morris, Bertha manages to get Mrs. Aster, the Queen of NYC, to attend her daughter's coming out party at the end of season one.

George's ruthless pursuit of power led him into a struggle with the NYC Aldermen. His triumph precipitated the suicide of Mr. Morris.

New Money Daddy: George Russell (aka Poor Man's Jude Law)

When his wife was snubbed by Mrs.s Fane and Morris, George made a fantastic show of buying out the entire charity bazaar.

Larry has disappointed his father by expressing his desire to become an architect.

New Money Son: Larry Russell

Will he apprentice with Stanford White, or will his aspirations become more romantic in nature?

Bertha has higher hopes for Gladys than she has for herself and Gladys's crush on the son of an old-money family is squashed by her mother's machinations.

New Money Baby: Gladys Russell

Oscar van Rijn has begun pursuing Gladys for her dowry with the assistance of Bertha's (now former) Lady’s Maid, Turner.

Season One culminates in Gladys's Coming Out Ball which opens up her story to many more potential suitors.

Check out the latest episode of Historic Attractions to brush up on S1 before you watch S2!

[gothedrals]

this machine creates little black squash balls

[midoropalace]

Yakuza: Like a Dragon -9-

It all comes tumbling down, tumbling down, tumbling down.

When I last left off, Ichiban and friends were invited to speak with Nick Ogata at Earth Angel. Before doing that, though I spent a little bit of time grinding in the Kamurocho Underground Dungeon.

Ok, so... I may have gone a little overboard. But given how spongy these recent bosses have been I think a few extra levels would be helpful here.

Over at Earth Angel, we reunite with Nick Ogata, where we reveal that Ichi's claim of there existing a recording of Aoki ordering the hit was, in fact, a bluff -- but a bluff so strong that it will compel Aoki and Tendo to raid the Omi Alliance offices.

Turns out, the bluff worked. Aoki orders Tendo to raid the Omi Alliance office at the Millennium Tower. Tendo isn't happy about this, but Aoki reminds him of their mutually beneficial relationship. Awkward.

Adachi suggests that we head to a different bar -- Bar Serena (?) -- to regroup. We do so, and we meet with Makoto Date, a character who I assume is from a different game. More incentive for me to branch out to the other RGG Studio games I guess. Nanba and Saeko warn us that we are about to enter the point of no return, and that we should prepare ourselves. Given our massive jump in levels, I think we're prepared enough.

We head to the Millennium Tower, where Nick calls and informs us that we're about to enter the Demon Lord's lair. We then get this sick shot of the Millennium Tower. Kickass.

Like the other dungeons in this game, the Millennium Tower is mostly just boring set dressing with some fairly nonthreatening encounters. The only cool part is this sweet shot of the Tokyo skyline I got with my husband.

We enter the Arakawa Family office, which Tendo has ransacked for the elusive recording. Realizing it was nonexistent all this time, he challenges us to a duel.

Tendo technically isn't the final boss, but for all intents and purposes, I consider him to be the final boss -- the next two bosses are painfully easy compared to him. My high level and strong equipment ensured that he would do little damage to me, but he still had a ton of HP to work my way through. His sole weakness -- Lightning -- being a rarity and something I am in short supply of. Little by little, I manage to whittle away his massive HP to nothing. The battle ends with Ichiban and Tendo having one final punching match before fading to the next scene...

It's official: the Citizen's Liberal Party has swept through the elections. All hope seems lost, unfortunately. But as Aoki celebrates his victory, he gets a nasty surprise on the screen behind him.

Fucking. Nick. Ogata. The true hero of this story. His machinations have ensured that the public now begin to suspect Aoki is a possible murderer. He even has the balls to probe, in the middle of the chaos, whether or not his true identity is that of Masato Arakawa, son of the recently-deceased Masumi Arakawa. This is seriously such a good fucking scene, and it's shocking just how relevant Nick has been to this entire story. Godspeed, Nick Ogata. Godspeed.

Aoki rushes to the Millennium Tower, where he finds Ichiban's crew seemingly defeated by Tendo, who is unscathed. Tendo asks Aoki what the next steps are, to which Aoki responds that it's time to squash all the people who know the truth about Aoki and are trying to expose him as the murderer he is.

Unfortunately for Aoki, he just got Punk'd. Ichiban rises and reveals the whole scene he just witnessed was a ruse -- the "Tendo" that he was speaking with was actually Mirror Face. A bit of an asspull but.. sure, whatever. To add insult to injury, Joon-gi and Saeko were recording the entire interaction from their vantage point. The video of Aoki admitting his guilt is now loose on the Internet for all to see. It seems, finally, that Aoki's plans have been foiled. With nothing to lose, it's time for the true final battle...

Everything about this intro is so fucking badass. Unfortunately, the actual battle isn't. Fitting to Aoki's personality, he is surrounded by weak Yakuza grunts. The only moves Aoki seems capable of are calling for reinforcements. Unfortunately, the reinforcements prevent you from doing any meaningful damage to him. To truly defeat Aoki, we need to get rid of the reinforcements and then wail on him. A couple shots from the Orbital Laser is more than enough to bring down his subordinates...

And Aoki doesn't last long against a barrage of blunt attacks. Seriously, he is super weak and doesn't seem to actually fight back. In fact, once his HP is low enough, he actually runs away and ends the battle!

Of course, there isn't anywhere he can run to. Ichiban chases him and winds up fighting him one-on-one. The gimmick of this battle is that Ichiban is forced into the Freelancer class. You know, the one you probably stopped leveling up once you got the Hero class. I could see this battle actually being a pain in the ass if you didn't grind out Freelancer. Thankfully, I was desperate to get Release German Suplex, so I actually did grind Freelancer out to 30. Thus making short work of Masato. With Masato down, it's time to witness the glorious ending to this glorious game.

[prommethium]

15 𝑄𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠

Thank you dear @quilleth for the tag. Loved to read about you 💛 I also hope to see more of your art soon 🥺

Tagging: @rabbitkissed 💌 @oneiro-nautical 💌 @subtlybrilliant 💌 @jadedzer0 💌 @birbfeeder2artisticboogaloo 💌 @lazy-girl-susd 💌 @still-gathering-roses 💌 @azure-prince As always, plese do not feel obligated. Sending lots of love to all of you!!

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა 💛💛💛

Were you named after anyone? My parents' blorbo (they are very intense Catholics.)

2. When was the last time you cried? Two days ago.

3. Do you have kids? No, but I have a dog!! Duncan!!! My little ball of furry chaos!!

4. Do you use sarcasm? Hardly, only in situations where isn't going to be perceived, as a joke only for myself.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people? Their height and their clothes (the latter not for judgment, but as something that might tell me something about their personality or life.)

6. What’s your eye colour? dark brown.

7. Scary movies or happy endings? Scary movies with happy endings <333

8. Any special talents? Well… I adore cooking, and I know I'm a good writer (in my mother language.)

9. Where were you born? I was extracted from my mother's matrix in a hospital located in one of the smallests states of the country.

10. What are your hobbies? Oh, I have so many, Cooking, gardening, embroidering, writing, reading, hiking, and napping.

11. Have any pets? A dog!! Duncan!!

12. What sports do/have you played? So many, but I'm gonna list only the ones I've practiced competitively: Running, squash, swimming, boxing, basketball, and Mountain biking. I practiced those before I was 21, but because of hypermobility of my joints, I can't practice those anymore; I've damaged my knees so much over the years, doctors advised me to avoid any type of squatting or flexion of my knees that involve weight or impact (no running or contact sports for me.) So nowadays, I only practice walking, and hiking (with support in my feet, ankles, and knees,) whenever I can I hit hard the elliptical machine (medium mode and not as fast as I would like,) and I punch the box bag :( (because I was advised to avoid boxing, I don't move much while doing it.)

13. How tall are you? over 1.65mts

14. Favorite subject at school? Mathematics and literature!!! don't make me choose.

15. Dream Job? I'd say to be a merperson and wreck ships and eat people… but tbh, I wanna work in a lab where I can perform all the cool molecular biology with applications in vegetal organisms, maybe to generate organisms that can terraform a planet, or at least strong enough to face the challenges to come because of global warming, pollution, and overpopulation. But also, I'd love to get paid only for studying and sharing what I know :') *cries because of the lack of funding for biotech in my country *

Blank questions

Were you named after anyone?

When was the last time you cried?

Do you have kids?

Do you use sarcasm?

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

What’s your eye colour?

Scary movies or happy endings?

Any special talents?

Where were you born?

What are your hobbies?

Have any pets?

What sports do/have you played?

How tall are you?

Favorite subject at school?

Dream Job?