#the only thing that matters is for me to be pleased with myself

[pukicho]

You've changed, man. I don't know what it is but some time in the past six months your shitposting got a bitter edge to it. Sure you could blame the political climate or world events on it but...I dunno. I used to scroll your blog to momentarily escape the hardships of today but now it feels like even you're not a safe place any more. I wish you luck on your journeys onwards but I'm sorry to say I cannot travel with you any more. Be well, puki, and I hope whatever troubles you passes.

Escapism is important and I try to offer that to a degree, but ultimately, I am a person. I experience hardships, I empathize with the worsening conditions of my world. As long as I care about things external to myself, I will subtlety, or blatantly express them in some way, and have for years, not merely 6 months.

Unbeknownst to you, these concerns are often the inspiration for some of my most beloved posts.

You’re free to leave of course, if my 1 serious post out of every 30 fucks your day up that badly, then please, feel free! - I simply don’t see my blog as escapist fluff, it never has been, even if that is often the outcome. My page has always been about my interests, and I just so happen to enjoy making people laugh.

I see it more as a fun place to hang out and express the feelings I feel inclined to express, most of which are fun and goofy, some of which are not. I love our little playful back-and-forths, and I enjoy seeing your insights, even if some of you are fucking stupid as shit. Sometimes I just like using you guys as little guinea pigs, testing my odd expressions out on you, and sitting back and seeing the outcome.

Ultimately, I try to balance balance 3 things on my page:

Comedy, as you know - I like making jokes, I like testing them out on people. Even if they suck, I like writing them regardless. Sometimes I sit back after writing something I know objectively sucks, hit send, and watch as everyone tells me how much it sucks. It brings me joy.

A desire for money - because if not, I wouldn't be able to make posts half as often as I do (ie, shirt sales, promoting my music, etc) - Sometimes that anxiety for money also bleeds into my posts, it has for years; and I hold back from being even more desperate about money than I feel I should be sometimes.

And the point you brought up: The occasional comment on something real that matters to me. - Over the past 3 years, if not longer, I’ve made a few uncharacteristically-serious statements on things like Covid, Gaza, The Presidency, hell, even the indigenous people of Australia... and more.

Why do I feel inclined to discuss these things? Because I want to. My page has always been about what I want. Fortunately for you, what I usually want to do is to make you laugh! But sometimes I wish to express other feelings, because I have a platform that allows my voice to travel further than that of others!

For those angry at all the qualms I don't bring up, try to understand my balancing act, as someone who understands your desire for escapism and the comfort that it brings you. If the veil falls, remember, we are of like-company - - And maybe, this veil was only ever in your head to begin with.

[zorosangell]

I'm shocked at the lack of wano zoro fics involving a geisha reader tbh??? I'd expected to find more but there's NONE ... or atleast not ones that isn't your fic

but oh my goddd that geisha reader & zoro fic was beautiful but imagine after komurasaki allegedly dies orochi finds reader to be his new little personal geisha and inviting (demanding) her to come to onigashima with him n zoro poorly receiving the news that'd be funny I think,

⛥ﾟ・。 stupid

synopsis: part two of oiran -- zoro starts an argument over you going undercover as orochi's personal oiran. and it ends... interestingly.

cw: fluffy fluff, microscopic angst ig, zoro don't play about you, reader is just a girl (just like me fr), kinda suggestive

"No way in hell," Zoro denied, not even giving the matter a second thought. "We'll figure something else out."

"Zoro, please... think of Kin'emon... think of Momo."

"I'm thinking of you. And how stupid this plan is."

"It's not stupid."

"Coulda fooled me."

Your brows flattened, growing annoyed with his stubbornness.

'Forgot how much of an ass he can be...'

"Zo', you're being unreasonable," you crossed your arms over your chest, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Oh, I'm being unreasonable?" he cocked a brow, letting out a sarcastic laugh before stepping out the way of the door. "Then by all means, please go."

You smiled, surprised by the sudden change of heart.

"Really?"

"No!" he exclaimed, incredulously, eyes widened by the fact that you actually believed him. "Christ, (y/n), you might as well send yourself gift wrapped with a bow!"

"What the hell are you talking about?!"

"I'm talking about you!" he groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Look at yourself, (y/n)! You're what guys like Orochi dream about. A gorgeous, dolled-up oiran dropped right on his doorstep for the taking."

You paused a moment, processing his statement.

In preparation for your arrival to the Flower Capital—a trip you were already supposed to be well on your way on—you'd fixed your rain-ruined makeup and changed into new kimono, which you'd tucked away in the safe-house in the earlier days of your mission.

You also touched-up your hair, adorning your... everything with jewelry and ornate pins to make yourself look like an oiran fit for shogun.

Much to Zoro's displeasure.

But you weren't concerned with that.

What you were concerned with... was the last part of his statement.

"You think I'm gorgeous?"

Zoro's breath hitched, a crimson flush rising from his neck to his cheeks, and only intensifying as you stalked closer.

"I...! Well...! You...!" he stammered, slowly backing away while you pressed forward, until his back hit the soft wood of the door. "Quit tryna change the subject!"

"Okay~" you flashed a cheeky smile, moving even closer until your chest was pressed against his, forcing you to look up at him with innocent, doe eyes.

"And quit looking at me like that!"

"Like what, Zo'? Why can't I look at my handsome swordsman?" you cooed.

"'Cause I know you're trying to butter me up. And it's not gonna work," he deadpanned, crossing his arms.

"Dammit, Zoro! I can take care of myself!" you groaned, annoyed that your seduction had failed. "Why won't you let me do this? It's for the mission!"

"Damn the mission! I don't give a shit! Think about yourself for a second, (y/n)!"

You flinched slightly at his volume, and were quick to clam up.

Of course, he noticed this, and took a moment to reign himself back in, taking in a deep inhale through his nose.

"What do you think Orochi wants with you? What reason could a man like him possibly have for asking for you by name? He only wants one thing, (y/n)!"

"And you'd think I'd give it to him?!" you scoffed, incredulously, knowing exactly what he was talking about, and feeling offended by the insinuation.

"Men like him don't ask! They don't care about boundaries, and they don't take no for an answer!"

"So now you think I can't fend for myself?"

"I think you wouldn't have to if you just didn't go all together! I've spent time in the Flower Capital and these guys are nothing like the small fry you were dealing with in the country! They do whatever it takes to get what they want! And I'd rather not fuck up everything the crew has worked for by having to cut down the goddamn shogun for putting his hands on you!"

You faltered a moment, surprised, and he took the opportunity to grab you by the shoulders, pulling you closer until you both were flush against each other, and his lips only a breath away from yours.

"I don't think you understand that I would never forgive myself if something happened to you because I let you go and do something reckless," he stated, significantly calmer, though not without his firm tone. "You're not some sacrificial lamb, or a soldier for a better cause. You're a member of this crew... my right hand... and I'd..."

He faltered a moment, another flush of crimson rising to his cheeks.

"Be pretty inconvenienced if you didn't come back."

You raised a silent brow, a small smirk rising to your lips that said 'Really?'

He scoffed, avoiding eye contact.

"You get the idea."

With a playful roll of your eyes, you leaned forward, pressing a feather-light kiss to his lips.

He froze, turning stiff as a board as you rested your hands on his chest, before carefully pulling away.

"I get the idea."

With a slight sigh of relief, his shoulders sank, and his index and thumb came up to lift your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"So... no Orochi?"

You nodded, dutifully, the sight causing a certain stir within the swordsman's undergarments.

"No Orochi."

At that, he smiled, genuinely pleased.

Before anything—before Wano, before the Akazaya, before any old daimyo—your safety was Zoro's utmost priority.

And he'd be damned if he let anyone, even the fucking shogun himself, lay a single finger on you.

Using his distraction against him, you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck, swirling you both around before tackling him to the ground.

"(y/n)?! What are you—?!"

You placed a finger to his lips, the devilish look in your eyes forcing him to swallow thickly.

"If I can't do what I wanna do... then we're just gonna have to find another way to occupy our time..."

Slowly, but intently, you began to tug off your robes and sashes, your eyes not leaving his for a moment as you stripped.

And as day turned to night, and then night turned to day, and then day turned to night again, Zoro only had on thing on his mind.

Especially with you resting on his chest in a spent pile of sweat and bliss.

'This woman... is going to be the death of me...'

[threebea]

Tiny Obi-Wan and Yoda just sat down somewhere having extremely Old Man conversations.

Mace: ....

Obi-Wan: you cannot imagine the things I can eat. No problem. No stomach upset. The fact Dex hasn't opened his diner yet is a travisty.

Yoda: Decades in exile subsisting on frogs I have been.

Obi-Wan: Yes, but those are good for you.

Yoda: Desire cake I do. One hundred years too late for it we are. Rubbing it in you are.

Obi-Wan: Well there must be some silver linings. The knees are nice too, but I can't reach anything.

Yoda: hmph, perspective you have gained perhaps?

Obi-Wan: not at this height.

Yoda: (laughs and gives him gentle whack with his cane) lost your cheek you have not, Master Kenobi

⭐

Obi-Wan: (notices Mace) oh, Master, please join us.

Mace: ... (Sits down)

Obi-Wan: (Sighs like an old man) I must say I'm glad not to be on the council at the moment. Have you read my proposal on Hutt investments portfolios? I know you're busy with Xanatos' nonsense, but if we move soon we could prevent Jabba from gaining ground in thirty years.

Mace: you should be learning how to mix colours with paint, not sending me paperwork in the middle of the night, Master Kenobi.

Obi-Wan: (gestures to neat paint pallet with colours mixed) I already know how to do that.

Yoda: doubt that I do. Knowing is not understanding.

Obi-Wan: that doesn't even mean anything. You can't tease me just because I'm small now.

Yoda: size matters not. Tease you I always will.

Obi-Wan: well that's true (eye roll)

Mace: I have enough paperwork Kenobi. Stop sending me paperwork.

Obi-Wan: well I would send it to another Master, but you're the only one that knows of my predicament and you won't let me use your name, and Master Yoda has always been awful with written proposals, no one would believe it.

Yoda (has brought out the paints Obi-Wan had with him and has started mixing colours)

Mace: Master you can't just mix paint on the tile!

Yoda: fear the mess it will make, hmm?

Obi-Wan: you're impossible. (Starts doing it as well) I never enjoyed making a mess, even at this age.

Yoda: fear of the future that is.

Obi-Wan: here he goes.

Yoda: to live in the moment, without fear of the mess of the future, that is the way of a Jedi.

Mace: (watches the two of them paint pictures on the ground. It's a complete mess)

Obi-Wan: I don't fear the future.

Yoda: hah!

Obi-Wan: I'm stressed! Stressed isn't the same thing as fear.

Yoda: come from fear stress does. Anxiety. Make a cloud you should.

Obi-Wan: (examines his tile of art work, adds a cloud)

Yoda: stress Master Mace has trouble with too. (Pointedly looking at Mace who is just watching the mess unfold)

Mace: (sighs, takes the hint, sits on the floor and dips his finger in the purple Obi-Wan mixed) I have many things to do.

Yoda: but right now you are painting.

Mace: I can't tell if you're both being serious or messing with me.

Obi-Wan: it can be both, Master. (Makes a face) I'm going to have blue hands for a week.

Mace: have you always been anxious, Master Kenobi? You always seem very confident and composed. It was eerie when we first met, seeing a child so poised.

Obi-Wan: yes, well I don't want anyone to know I'm anxious. Too many people rely on me.

Yoda: like someone else that is.

Mace: well... Right now you're at an age you don't need to be so independent.

Obi-Wan: I'm older than you are, Master. My crude matter doesn't reflect who I am inside. I can't just turn off my worries. It was easier in the end. In the desert... But it's hard to grasp now. I found my balance and peace, but in the here and now I find myself at odds with my knowledge. Every stray thought and memory of something that could be changed for the better.

Mace: changing the future is dangerous.

Obi-Wan: not changing it is more dangerous.

Mace: if you become obsessed you risk losing yourself. You need an anchor.

Obi-Wan: I know. (Focuses back on his painting) The future is always in motion. I am not changing anything. I am simply existing in the now. The ripples for good or ill can rarely be controlled or focused. However is it not my duty to follow where the Force has led me and do good?

Mace: ... (I feel very young suddenly)

Yoda: talk too much you do, Master Kenobi.

Obi-Wan: well it's been awhile since anyone has been kind enough to listen, Master Yoda. Force knows you don't have the attention for it.

Yoda: accuse me of senility do you? Focused I am on the present (gestures at his paint mess). Rambling on the old days you are.

Obi-Wan: who is the more senile? The old man or the old man that tries to talk to him?

Mace: (looking at the five year old who just said that. He has a splotch of blue paint on his cheek) no more proposals in the middle of the night, Kenobi. You'll get an ulcer at six.

Obi-Wan: (prim and proper) and when exactly did you get your first stress ulcer Master Windu?

Yoda: (laughs) twenty-two he was.

Mace: just paint.

Terrible Fic Ideas #3: Re-Entry, but make it Obi-Wan and Yoda

If you've not noticed by now, I'm the biggest sucker for Time Travel Fix-Its that ever existed, and one of my absolute favorites is the Re-Entry series by the ever-wonderful flamethrower. In that series, post-RotJ Obi-Wan and Anakin are sent back to 4 years before TPM to save the Republic, and it's an absolutely wonderful ride. But one thing I've always wanted is Yoda to be thrown back in time in one of these fix-its.

Imagine it:

Yoda is the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order. He has the ability to make lasting changes to the order in a way that young Padawan or newly knighted Obi-Wan alone couldn't. He's also had ~25 years alone in a swamp without even the passing human contact Obi-Wan got on Tatooine to reflect on all the things that went wrong, and stuck around as a Force Ghost at least until TLJ.

Not that I imagine TLJ happening in this AU - to kick it off I imagine Luke not managing to make it off the second Death Star after Anakin dies, and Anakin and Leia's anguish in the Force managing to hurl the watching Force ghosts into the pasts, where they can keep Luke's death from ever happening.

And so you have Yoda and Obi-Wan being thrown back to, say, 52 BBY. Obi-Wan, now only five years old, wakes his crechemate's up with a "vision", and for decades afterwards the younglings swear that on certain nights you can year an echo of absolute and complete anguish in the Force.

But the end result is the same: 5 year old Obi-Want has his memories of the next 52 years alive and 4 additional years of being a Force ghost. The transition is somewhat less abrupt for Yoda, who is 800+ at this time.

Unlike Re-Entry, the only one Yoda and Obi-Wan tell (at least at first) that they've traveled through time is Mace - and only then because Obi-Wan is very obviously not a normal 5 year old anymore. (And even then it's more of an accident Mace finds out. Instead Yoda just sort of pushes Mace at Obi-Wan "to help him get a handle on his visions and train him in the ways of the Force", and in the end Mace finally puts two and two together after sort of assuming he's just going crazy or being punked.)

Actually, confused!babysitter Mace is half the drive for this plot bunny. He's so confused and Yoda is being even more of a troll than usual, and he's not prepared at all to deal with such a small child, but honestly half the time it feels like Obi-Wan is the one taking care of him, and just so much confusion.

Together, between Yoda being the Grandmaster and Obi-Wan's weaponized cuteness as a youngling, they are able to prevent some things that contribute to the fall of the Republic. (Galidraan et al).

Obi-Wan is taken as Mace's Padawan fairly young, and no one really considers it too be too odd how good he is so young given that Mace was his Master and Yoda's been his mentor since the creche, but he's definitely considered to be an odd child. As one might expect of a ~60 year old being suddenly stuffed into his 5 year old body. When it eventually comes out that he's a time traveler, it answers a lot things people didn't realize they were questioning.

But mostly confused!babysitter Mace, troll!Yoda, and baby!Obi-Wan.

As always, feel free to adopt the bunny. Just link if you end up doing anything with it.

More Terrible Fic Ideas

[hamiltonfc]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆⭒˚｡⋆ MOTH TO A FLAME; JUDE BELLINGHAM (Chapter One)

➤ Summary: Kaia tells Jude about her new beau, throwing yet another spanner in the works of their already complicated relationship.

➤ Pairing: Jude Bellingham x F!OC

➤ Warnings: Swearing, Food mention.

➤ Discussion tag: #my works: moth to a flame (if you ever have any questions about the story, release schedule, etc. my inbox is always open.)

➤ Word Count: 2,254

TAGLIST | SERIES PLAYLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

Kaia’s POV

The dial tone wasn’t unfamiliar when it came to my relationship with Jude. Over the past few years, phone calls between us have been the main way of communicating with my best friend. With him away in either Germany or Spain, or with myself at my home in Surrey, or away on a film set somewhere, phone calls or long text threads were the best I could get. 

But this call was different. Jude was finally back home in England. Not for long, just for a week or so during the winter break in the Spanish season. It just so happened that I had made the journey up from Surrey to be home with my family for Christmas, so it was only a matter of time before I picked up my phone, ready to call him. 

“Hello?” I heard at the other end of the line when Jude picked up. “Who’s this? The number kinda looked like this girl who last spoke to me about three weeks ago, but, you know, I could be mistaken.”

“Jude,” I say, deadpan. “I swear to God, the day you answer a phone call in a somewhat normal way, that’s when I’ll know the aliens have invaded.”

“I find offence in the fact that’s not the first time you’ve referred to aliens when talking about me,” his smirk was obvious through the way he spoke, it’s not like I’d never heard him speak that way before. “Anyway, stranger, what’s up? Miss my pretty face?”

“Always. But no, I need you to come over,” I stand up from where I was lying on my bed and walk over to my desk, taking a seat on the chair in front of it. 

“You need me to, huh? You should’ve said, Baby, I’d have been over already.” 

“Jesus,” I pinch the bridge of my nose, slumping further back into the chair in feigned annoyance. 

“My name’s Jude, actually, but close enough.”

“Please, Jude. I need to tell you something,” I twist my body, swinging the desk chair side to side a little, nerves creeping up to my heart, which is pounding in my chest. 

“God, I love it when you beg,” Jude whispers, voice a little more serious than it had been before. “Sorry, uhm, I’ll be over in ten. See you soon, Darling.”

****

*knock knock knock*

“FBI, open up!” Jude yells, in the worst American accent I might’ve ever heard (and I’ve been an actor my whole life so I’ve heard some terrible ones), from the other side of my door. He swings the door open, and his beaming face is the first thing I see when he’s revealed. 

I furrow my brows, staring at him with a disappointed look on my face for a few seconds. “Remind me, Jude, why the fuck are we friends?”

Jude places his hand against his chest, mouth open in fake, way too dramatic, offence. “Because we love each other, duh? Did you like it, though? It’s like that show you like, Criminal Brains or whatever it’s called.” He throws himself onto the bed beside me, landing on his stomach, before pushing up onto his forearms, leaning in towards me with only one thing on his mind.

“No,” I whisper, my hand gently placed on his collarbone as I push him back. “I need to talk to you first.”

“Oh,” Jude says with a nod. He grabs one of the many pillows on my bed and tucks it under his head, getting into a more comfortable position so he can look at me properly. Before Jude speaks, I see a look pass across his face, one that I can read instantly. “It’s serious enough that you don’t want to kiss me? Okay,” he drags out the vowels, chocolate brown eyes landing on mine, and at that moment I can do nothing but stare into them. 

My eyes flutter away from his, too scared to look at him during what I’m about to tell him, the weight of his gaze upon me enough to knock my mind off balance. 

“We can’t do this anymore,” I say softly, lips barely moving, but they fall loud and clear upon Jude’s ears. 

“We can’t do what anymore?” He knows. I knew he’d know what I would tell him when I refused to kiss him. But that’s what Jude is like, he is always going to give me space to tell him in my own time. He knows that’s how I want this to go. 

“Whatever we’ve been doing for the past however many years,” it’s then when I look at him, the image of his face etched into my brain of what I imagined he looked like in the moment, and I wasn’t wrong. 

Jude shakes his head, breaking eye contact, his jaw tight, before looking right back at me. “Why?”

“I have a boyfriend.” Silence washes over the room. Only sounds of our breathing can be heard and the ruffling of the bedding when I shift my body towards Jude. “We, uhm, we met on set a few months back and we hit it off, so… yeah. We’re now together.”

I give Jude a tight-lipped smile. He nods slowly in response, eyes wandering around my room. “I’m happy for you.” There it is. Four simple words, but they’re exactly what I expected him to say. He is so predictable. 

“So,” Jude slaps his thighs as he moves to sit up, almost falling backwards due to the lack of support from the mattress underneath him, but his strong core just about manages to complete the manoeuvre. “What’s your mom cooking?”

“A roast, but ab-”

“A roast? Oh, get in, I fucking love your mom’s roasts. Don’t tell my mom but, if I’m being completely honest, I prefer your mom’s Yorkshire puddings,” he smiles, but I can tell in the way he’s moving, his body language, the way his eyes can’t hold contact with mine for longer than three seconds, that he’s trying to distract himself from everything that’s going through his mind. “Mine does do better roast potatoes, though. They’re crispier.” 

“Jude,” I say sharply, placing a hand on his thigh in an attempt to bring him back to reality a little, as I stare at his heaving chest. “Slow the fuck down, yeah?” My stare is wide and long as my hand moves up and down his thigh, the only thing separating our skin are his grey sweatpants. “Take a breath, next time.”

He nods, his hand instinctually moving to grasp mine, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting it go, knowing that if he held on any longer he wouldn’t want to let go at all. “Quick question,” his eyes meet mine. “Why are we having a roast when you’re coming round mine for Christmas dinner in three days?”

I shrug. “Think of it as a pre-roast. You know how my mum gets when she’s not hosting, she can’t sit still to save her life, the roast dinner is just a product of that.”

“Cool,” Jude nods. “Two roast dinners in a week is a lot better than all the nutritional shit I have to eat throughout the season, anyway.”

I let out a quiet laugh, pulling my hand out from underneath his. “Anyway,” I take a deep breath. “As I was trying to say, about the dinner, Noah, my boyfriend, is coming over to eat with us.”

“Okay,” Jude’s voice fades out as he says, a confused look on his face.

“I mean,” I tell him. “It’s up to you, you can stay and meet him if you want, I don’t mind. Like I understand if you don’t want to, but, like I said, it’s completely up to you.”

Jude scoffs. “And like I said, I want that roast dinner. Of course, I’m staying.”

“Right then, I get up from my bed, stretching and letting out a yawn, catching Jude looking at the sliver of my belly that appears when I raise my hands over my head. “We best get downstairs and set the table, because we both know that sister of mine won’t have done it.” 

****

“You do know you have legs, right?” I say to my fifteen-year-old sister, Olivia, as soon as I enter the dining room only to find that the table hadn’t already been set like I had previously hoped. 

My sister only lets out a grunt and shrugs at my words. 

“You alright, Liv?” Jude grabs the coasters, placing one in front of each chair, making sure to count one extra than usual for Noah.

Olivia gives Jude the same grunt as the one that she gave me. 

“Remember when we were like that?” I nudge Jude with my elbow, setting up everyone’s cutlery. 

“What, when we hated everyone and everything that wasn’t on our phones? Yeah, that was rough,” a reminiscent look passes across Jude’s face before I slap him in the tummy with the placemats. 

“Come on, slacker, you going to put them down before I whack you round the head with them, or what?” I giggle, making my way into the kitchen to see if my mum needs any help. 

I see Jude smile at me over my shoulder as he watches me walk away. “You alright, Mum? Need help with anything?”

“No, I’m alright, thanks, Love. You go and sit down, I’ll bring the food through in a bit,” she flashes a smile at me before opening the oven up, and checking on the beef and potatoes. 

I turn on my heel, walking back into the dining room when my little brother appears at the doorway. “Judey!” he yells as soon as he spots my best friend. 

My youngest sibling, Leo, runs at Jude, causing him to stop everything he’s doing before he leans down to pick up the little boy. 

“Hello, little man, how are you doing?” Jude squeezes him as tight as he can. In the time that Jude and Leo had known each other, which was the entirety of Leo’s seven years on the planet, they had built up an amazing relationship. Leo considered Jude to be one of his best friends and even went as far as saying that Jude loved him more than me. If he only knew. 

“I’m not too good,” I watch as Leo pouts up at Jude after he’s placed him back on the ground. 

“Why not, Kid?” Jude’s brows furrow, continuing his work setting the table while also giving the small boy as much attention as he can. 

“I’ve been doing my homework all day because Mummy said I had to and if I didn’t I wouldn’t be able to play Roblox later.” 

“Well, we can’t be having that, can we?” Jude smiles when Leo shakes his head and lets out a heavy sigh. “So, did you get it all done?”

“I did,” Leo nods, a proud smile on his face. 

“Good kid,” Jude ruffles his hair before he spots me, leaning against the doorframe, watching their interaction. 

“Go and take a seat, Leo,” soft thuds against the floor can be heard as he runs to his chair next to his older sister. “Mum says dinner will be ready soon.”

I sit down in my usual spot, with Jude going to take the seat right next to me before changing his mind and walking around the table to sit in the seat directly across from me instead. 

Jude and I engage in barely thirty seconds of conversation before it’s broken up by the sound of the doorbell ringing. I feel my expression change immediately, to one full of nerves. Jude notices that immediately, watching me in anticipation as I get up from my seat. 

“That’ll be him,” I say, leaving no room for Jude to reply because I’m out of the room in seconds, making my way towards the door. 

“Hey, Babe,” Noah says in his thick American accent as soon as I open the door. 

I move to the side, signalling for him to come in. “Hi,” I say, my words a lot more muted than the bubbly voice that he’s used to. 

Noah shrugs his coat off as he steps inside and I grab it from him, turning to hang it on one of the hooks beside the door. He leans down, pressing a quick kiss on my lips. “You okay?” His brows furrow together as he analyses my face. 

“Yeah,” I nod, smiling up at him. “There’s someone here I’d like you to meet,” I tell him, leading him into the dining room after about a minute of being gone. 

As soon as Noah and I enter the room, I notice Jude look Noah up and down the moment his eyes land on him. He takes in his outfit, his tanned skin and his blonde hair. I can practically see the moment where he acknowledges that he’s not my type, no that that matters, he doesn’t know my type to be anything other than himself. 

“Noah,” I turn to him, a slight smile on my face. “You’ve already met my brother and sister,” I can feel Jude watching me as I point at the kids beside him. I can also see his face change slightly, most likely to show his disdain at the fact that I let Noah into my house before ever telling him about our relationship. “And this,” My gaze falls upon Jude, prompting Noah to look at him for the first time this evening. “Is Jude. My best friend.”

Taglist: @eunoiasgoal @4evermyownmuse

If you would like to support my work make sure to like and reblog this post, and if you're able, consider buying me a pastry! (I also take writing commissions if anyone would like one).

[laurenairay]

https://www.tumblr.com/laurenairay/773668775884210176/end-of-january-blurbs-i-cant-believe-its-nearly

“Was any of this real?” With Mikko Rantanen please!

Ignore how early I am I saw you were posting these and got excited 🤭

2 – “Was any of this real?” - Mikko Rantanen

513 words.

I’m still sad about this trade!! This one got a little angsty, so I hope you like it!

~

You’d always feared this day, but you truly never thought it would happen.

Mikko had been traded – traded from the only team he’d ever played for – and it was all you could do to watch him pack his bags as tears streamed down your cheeks. He didn’t have long before he needed to get on a slight to join his new team, the Carolina Hurricanes, but even just watching him back enough clothes for a short trip was hard enough, knowing that the next time he’d be packing was to move away for good.

And how could you even dare protest your heartbreak, when Mikko’s own heart was breaking too? When his career was mercy to the whims of business?

“I think…I think I’m done for this roadtrip. Should be enough to last me until I can figure out what I’m doing.”

His rumbling voice broke you out of your thoughts, and all of a sudden, everything just felt like too much.

“Was any of this real?” you whispered.

Mikko’s head snapped towards you, his expression sliding into one so devastated that it made your chest ache even more.

“Rakas, hey, how can you ask that?”

You choked out a laugh, shaking your head even as more tears stung your eyes. “Because I don’t know if I’m dreaming or if this is a nightmare, and everything feels like it’s upside down.”

His smiled sadly, nodding his head.

“I can understand where you’re coming from. Here, sit next to me,” he murmured.

You sat down next to Mikko on the bed you’d shared for years. It was the last thing you wanted, to be selfish in your emotions, but your lives were so intertwined at this point that this trade massively impacted you too. And you knew he knew that.

“I don’t know what’s happening in my career right now but I do know this – you and me are real. This relationship is real,” Mikko said firmly.

You tried to smile at him, but you knew you failed with the way he sighed.

“Just give me some time to sort myself out. I can’t lose you, but I…”

Mikko trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You have to put yourself first right now,” you said, finishing his sentence in the only way you knew how.

The hollow sadness in his face broke your heart even more. “Yeah, I do. I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” you said softly.

“Let me get through this road trip, and we’ll figure out moving, yeah? I want to make sure we have the perfect home together. I know you have a life here, but I can’t imagine being all the way down in Raleigh without you,” Mikko pleaded.

He still wanted you by his side. That was all that mattered.

“I don’t want to imagine you creating a life down there without me,” you managed to croak out, smile finally feeling a bit real.

“Then we’re on the same page, okay rakas? We’ll get there, you and me,” Mikko said, smiling back at you.

“Okay, I trust you.”

[chaotic-snowflake]

Probably going to get hate for this but tbh I don’t really care because it needs to be said. I feel like social media culture has absolutely killed fandom culture, and anyone producing content is suffering for it. I mean, seriously, AO3 isn’t TikTok. We’re not getting paid to do this shit, we’re doing it for free. All of us have lives outside of this, whether it be school, work, etc. But we’re still taking time out of our busy schedules to create something not for us, but for you. Sure, people say “write for yourself”, and to an extent, I do, but if I were writing for just myself I wouldn’t spend hours polishing my work so I could post it and share it with you. The things I’ve written solely for myself are scrappy. They’re in notebooks. They’re not meant for you.

But the works I share online, those are written for you. Not for me, but for you. And in return for what is often weeks of work, we get a click. A digital heart, if we’re lucky. Because modern social media culture is all about consumption—click, consume, then move on to the next thing without even bothering to at the very least thank the person who crafted something with love for your eyes. I can’t speak for artists, but as a writer this is very disheartening. Nowadays, I find myself more and more inclined to quit what I do and focus on the other things in my life, because I’ve spent god only knows how much of my time creating for you only to see not a single thanks for it, and over time it’s just gotten worse and worse. I don’t want to quit writing. I’m proud of my AO3, and I do have readers who enjoy my work and let me know that—unfortunately, they’re in the slim minority; so much so that I can count them on one hand. But the fact of the matter is that art is not meant for this rapid consumption culture. And when people put their heart and soul into creating things for you FOR FREE and see nothing for it, we become disheartened. We feel like it’s all for nothing. And we want to quit. It takes maybe 30 seconds to leave a comment. It doesn’t have to be anything extravagant; oftentimes just a simple “thank you” will make a writer’s day. A couple nice words could give us the motivation to create something new.

Please, if you have any ounce of respect for the creatives in your life, just leave a comment. I don’t care if y’all on here call me selfish or greedy, because as a writer, trust me—your comments mean the world.

[twosnails4eva]

ramble in tags

[makiswirl]

can i just say. and this is probably a niche hill to die on. that i am so gobsmacked every time someone vaguely hints at the idea that jotaro doesn't care meaningfully for the other crusaders, usually particularly kakyoin and joseph, when those two actually tend to be the ones he reacts to being hurt the hardest

like he cares for his loved ones!!!! that literally plays into his character motives in every single part he shows up in!!! stop lying to me!!!!!!!

[deoidesign]

I'll either succeed or I'll learn trying

[junkartie]

I think the most crushing autism experience is friends/romantic partners eventually figuring out youre masking bcz if you keep it up long enough its also off-putting & unnatural and then insisting you act like yourself- only to realize they in fact do not like your real self and make comments about how annoying/different youre acting all of a sudden. ❤️🧎‍♀️

[lesbiansanemi]

Currently trying not to vomit over the fact that I essentially just lost almost a thousand dollars brb

[phagodyke]

the masculine urge to take a saucepan off thr draining board and bash myself repeatedly over the head with it until I pass out and no longer have to experience feeling Bad 😍

[skitskatdacat63]

I was gonna post something about dreading how shit this week is going to be. But then I realized it's probably going to be shit until late January, so. Please pray for my blood pressure and health 😭

[professionaljester]

love my bad mental health, love being suicidal all the time

[moe-broey]

Had. An extremely funny vision to revamp Moe's staff.

The design isn't super final, I can never really decide how I want the accents to look... trying to keep them in line with how the Askr trio's weapons look. Especially the signature color magic glow that's present in their special arts!!!

Anna has it too!!!!! You just don't see it bc her art gets cut off in game. Also, additional image bc you don't see the handle v well in her special.

Which is why, here, the green gem is most prominent on Moe's weapon.... geen....... idk if I'm keeping the other ones that look like the summoning circle orbs. It was just something I wanted to try out!

BUT. BUT. The Main Idea here is that Moe added its own touch to the staff. Yeah, the dangly halo was a Neat idea, but this concept is just so much funnier to me..... says SO much about Moe as a character... it is ALWAYS. Making and customizing things. I can also see Moe using the carabiner practically as well! Now, I wonder why it held onto those two feathers in particular... 🤔

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

sorry for only saying this type of shit lately but i kinda wanna drive a car straight into a brick wall at the highest speed possible