#there ain't no time travel nonsense

[reallyromealone]

I think this is it.

Aight, thank you. Here's my request: So Pro-hero Bakugou has a husband (reader) and a son who didn't inherit his quirk. Instead, he got m readers' "weak" healing quirk. The kid hates/dislikes reader for getting his "useless" quirk instead. Meek reader doesn't want tell Bakugou that the son has a crappy teen ego, but Bakugou comes home early to see son berating reader. And Bakugo just scolds the son and explains why the the healing quirk is useful and how reader is amazing. Its a bit angsty, but can we have some fluff comfort at the end pls? Thank you again. :)

I got this

🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐

One thing no one in U.A expected was for Bakugo to get with Recovery girls grandson, the Omegas quirk being "healing aura" the ability to create a healing must up to 12 feet.

The two teens didn't get along initially, Bakugo crass and rude and (name) very much no nonsense and stubborn, the two constantly butted heads during their stay at U.A.

It was a surprise towards the end of their high school career for the two to move in together with an upcoming engagement "when did they even start dating?" Some would ask only to realize those arguments and comments were actually the two flirting.

(Name) ended up much like his grandmother and travelling agency to agency and helping out post villain attacks and doing what he could, gaining adoration and fans through how much he helped.

They almost forgot he was an Omega till he went on maternity leave.

(Sons name) was very much like Katsuki, a spitfire who had many little options and though Katsuki calmed down considerably there was no denying they were practically clones.

And because of this, it devastated (sons name) when he didn't get his sires "heroic" quirk but instead got (name)s quirk, the boy over time developing a resentment to his Dam.

Due to (name) only being called for emergencies, he ended up taking his late grandmother's place at U.As Medical wing.

And because of these hours, he was often left to care for his son alone while Katsuki did hero work, and because of this missed his son developing into a mythic asshole.

(Name) was exhausted after work, needing to use his quirk a lot today along with quirkless medical practice as many students didn't need his quirk but a simple bandage and such.

The house was a mess, whenever (sons name) came home he always made a mess, deeming it "Omega work" as the teen scrolled his phone "arent you supposed to be studying for the written exam?"

"Why should I? Dad got me in on recommendation, thank god since all you gave me was a shitty quirk" the teen snapped and (name) looked absolutely heartbroken at this as the teen continued "thank god dad's been teaching me martial arts since it's so useless-- seriously why did I have to get stuck with something as useless as your quirk, I'm amazed dad settled for someone as useless as you"

"The fuck you say?" The two turned to see Katsuki Bakugo walk in, out of uniform after finishing work at his agency "d-dad..." (sons name) looked sick and (name) on the verge of tears "your dad's "useless quirk" literally saved countless lives and your dad hauled ass saving countless People from villains" his voice cold as he dropped his duffle bag "why's the house a mess? You not fucking helping your Dam? I know he just got home so I know this ain't his mess" he laughed without any humor "disrespectful little shit, get up and clean this mess, after we train and get ready because it's gonna be hell" Katsuki promised coldly and the teen got up not wanting to piss off his dad more as the pro led (name) to their room.

"How long?" He said pulling the exhausted Omega into his lap, only soft for his mate "honestly since he found out his quirk, it's just been coming out the past few months..." Katsuki was shocked at this, how did he miss this?! "Why didn't you say anything?"

"... You were busy... You were working so hard on building your agency and I wanted to lift some weight off your shoulders" he wanted to cry as his husband held him close "stop being stupid" his voice loving despite the harsh words "I'll whip I'm straight, rely on me idiot"

(Name) was left to relax in the bedroom as Bakugo handled his son, calling a few hero friends to help especially the teens uncle Izuku and uncle Aizawa-- the teen spending his break at his uncle Aizawas and subsequently with uncle Shinsou who was visiting.

By the written exam he was kicked into shape and Bakugo made sure his mate was reminded over and over again how loved he was.

[grandgtaman1a]

Domestic life with Trevor and Franklin[Headcanon]

Pairing: Trevor Phillips x Fem Reader, Franklin Clinton x Fem Reader Character: Trevor Phillips, Franklin Clinton, Reader Summary: Domestic Life with Trevor and Franklin [Anon Request]

AN: There may be a few inaccuracies Feel free to reblog and let me know your thoughts Do not repost Requests are open Sorry it took time and please it's a humble request to reblog so it gains more attraction to the blog rather than like, please. The image is only for visual representation

Trevor Phillips

Despite his rough exterior, Trevor excels at unconventional domestic skills like fixing appliances and DIY projects. He's the go-to person for any household repairs.

Trevor and you engage in constant playful banter. Your dynamic mixes sarcasm, teasing, and genuine affection, creating a unique and lively atmosphere at home.

You and Trevor occasionally embark on late-night adventures, whether driving to a secluded spot to stargaze or exploring the city when it's quiet. These spontaneous moments strengthen the bond.

Trevor's rough exterior hides a protective streak. He's fiercely defensive of you and has a no-nonsense attitude toward anyone who might threaten their safety or happiness. And it ain't a joke when he kills someone cause they hurt you.

In private, Trevor shows rare moments of vulnerability with you. He opens up about his past, fears, and dreams, creating a deep emotional connection that transcends his tough exterior.

You and Trevor celebrate unconventional anniversaries, like the day they met at a chaotic event or the anniversary of adopting their first pet together. These quirky celebrations become cherished traditions.

Trevor and you discover shared hobbies, whether riding motorcycles together, attending local events, or even participating in unconventional activities that reflect Trevor's wild side.

You find a sense of comfort and love amid Trevor's chaotic lifestyle. Despite the unconventional nature of their relationship, they discover that home is wherever you are together.

Franklin Clinton

You and Franklin have a morning routine that involves cooking a hearty breakfast together. Franklin often surprises you with his culinary skills, whipping up delicious omelets and pancakes.

Both of you are fitness enthusiasts. Engaging in morning workouts or evening jogs together encourages each other to stay active and healthy.

Given Franklin's love for cars, you spend weekends attending car shows, working on personal automotive projects, or simply taking long drives to enjoy the scenery.

You both enjoy quiet evenings at home with movie nights and gaming sessions. They take turns choosing films and games, creating a cozy and laid-back atmosphere.

Franklin's love for cooking extends to the backyard, where he takes charge of the grill during family barbecues. Hosting gatherings for friends and family, creating a warm and welcoming environment.

You both share a passion for travel. They plan spontaneous weekend getaways, explore nearby cities, or take road trips to experience new cultures and cuisines.

Both you and Franklin have a creative side. Might spend weekends exploring local art galleries, attending painting classes, or simply expressing themselves through various artistic endeavors.

Amidst the hustle and bustle of life, You and Franklin cherish quiet moments of reflection. Whether it's sitting on the porch at sunset in Los Santos or sharing stories under the stars of Mount Chilliad, they appreciate the simple beauty of life together.

Note: Don't just like please reblog it too helps with the algorithm a simple reblog is fine too.

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Vivace

Chapter Twenty Five

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Bobby, Tiny, Lee, Kevin, Annie, Pamela, Sam, faceless fans and support staff

Word Count: 2900

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, jealousy, grief, musical backstory and hope

A/N: The band played on.

Series Masterlist

You held your breath as Bobby gathered the band backstage. Two dozen roadies, stage crew, and security stilled as he looked past the boys and Pam to their support staff, only Charlie and her team were missing, already in place in the booth. You shivered and waited. Jody’s voice echoed behind the bend thanking the crowd and promising a great show from Phantom Traveler to come. Andy slinked around and continued to snap pictures, despite the glare it earned him anytime Bobby caught the lens pointed toward him. The ragtag group buzzed with excitement and you silently prayed that it would go off without a hitch. 

Finally, Bobby began to speak, “I know a lot of you are nervous about tonight, ‘bout this tour— hell about this band. But it means a lot that y’all signed on for another round of nonsense with these idjits. It means you believe in them, that you’ve got faith they can pull together and get it done. Well, I’m here to tell you it’s not a time to worry, because ain't no other band that can do what these guys do. It’s a time to celebrate. Let’s get out there and fuckin’ rock’n’roll.”

Lee hooted and people cheered, you couldn’t help but clap and shriek along. Then everyone crowded in for the circle of hands and chanted “Phaaaaaantom TRAV-ler!”

The band and crew maneuvered in the dark, letting the interim instrumentals keep the crowd distracted as they set up. You scurried back to where you had left Bela in the wings, under Tiny’s care.

“Everything alright?” Bela asked out of the side of her mouth, shifting in place as she tried to clock Dean amongst the many moving shapes.

“Aces,” you replied, bouncing on the balls of your feet as the crowd started to clap with an increasing beat.

You spotted Sam and Kevin’s silhouettes high five and then Lee strummed a teaser chord. Walkie talkies crackled around you as the all clear was called. You kept an earpiece in, but without much left for you to do, you turned it to the lowest setting besides mute. 

It was go time. 

“Bring ‘em up, Charlie,” Bobby prompted over the line and the Forum erupted. 

Lights and wavelengths of sound shot off in every direction and Phantom Traveler took off.

You wouldn’t have stopped yourself from screaming bloody murder even if you had remembered you were directly beside your very posh best friend and her security detail. 

It was happening. They made it back home.

“Good evening Inglewood!” Dean greeted, pointedly accurate. Plus you could tell he was grinning from where you stood, from just the sway of his head and a glimpse of his profile.

There was no other chit chat, no grand speech thanking them for coming out, it was just the band, the music, and the audience.

They started off with ‘Woman in White’, their first major single and something high energy enough to get people out of their seats. Then on to the B side of their first EP, which was a cult favorite called ‘Playthings’ that featured something affectionately referred to as ‘the beat off’ between Sam and Pam.

But at the time it was written, it was played by Sam and Cas.

Pam did it better.

It was like someone was racing up the stairs or against time itself as the two rhythm setting musicians fought for dominance. The crowd ate it up. And you could tell they both were already dripping sweat by the time the song ended and they tuned it back and finally jumped into their last fateful album.

‘Scarecrow’ was haunted and foreboding, reminiscent of early 90s metal that you knew Dean adored. It was also Cas’ favorite track off that entire album. And Kevin killed the bridge as the keyboard turned into an ancient organ chasing the crows away with the dawn. Charlie even added a cackling Vincent Price at the end that couldn’t be topped.

“How’s everybody doing tonight?!” Lee took the words out of Dean’s mouth, which earned him a kick in the ass. They were having a blast up there and it was infectious.

The crowd roared.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Dean bellowed. “I hope you don’t mind, but we’d like to bring somebody out for this next number.”

Shrill ruckus pierced the air, they knew what was coming.

“She’s our very dear friend and we just so happened to convince her to tag along with us this tour. You know her, you love her, please— give a very warm welcome to the incomparable Ms. Annie Hawkins!”

Everyone screamed and stomped, watching as the spotlight followed Annie from the farside of the stage towards the standing mics centerstage.

“Oh, she looks amazing,” Bela spoke for the first time since you’d gotten back. And she wasn’t wrong.

“The girls probably had a blast with her in their dressing room,” you tacked on thoughtfully.

“Her top though,” Bela continued. “I want it.”

You chuckled at Bela’s priorities and quickly got sucked back into what was happening barely thirty feet away.

“You sure you’re ready over there?” Annie teased as Dean adjusted his mic after rushing to set down his guitar.

The crowd laughed in unison.

“I’m ready, do you think they’re ready?” Dean asked coyly, gesturing to the crowd.

All around you camera screens glowed and flashed burst through the darkened arena. Concert security lined the stage and guarded the partitioned areas for the crew and band to navigate the area. Until that moment you really hadn’t been able to pull any single response from the cacophony. You hadn’t been trying anyway. But when Annie goaded Dean a cluster of women in the pit got your attention.

“And here I thought you were out here warming them up for me?” Annie teased.

The crowd loved it, but one catty comment made it feel like you and Bela were right there up on stage with them. “Bela needs to get her man before that cougar gets too cozy up there.”

They eyed your little corner below the VIP suspiciously. You missed whatever Dean said in response, instead watching the women glare and Bela adamantly ignore them in equal measure.

But then the song began. A slow and slinking start reminiscent of Springsteen’s Fire. Which you clocked the first time you heard it, but that was just the intro. The lyrics started up as a quick conversation, a compromise even and then they were harmonizing into the chorus. 

The band hadn’t done many duets, even with such talented singers in their ranks. It wasn’t their style. But this song felt like it had always existed, it was timeless and familiar and really fucking catchy. Annie beamed at Dean when he slipped closer on stage and they belted out the final lines.

It made you feel like they were performing only for you, for their people. It was honest and intimate, but this wasn’t rehearsal or karaoke and the audience would not be forgotten.

Everyone cheered. Even the judgy bitches that kept watching Bela at your side.

Dean hugged Annie and made sure she got the reception she deserved, egging the crowd on and bowing in homage to her talent.

She rolled her eyes, did a snarky curtsy and waved her way back off stage.

“You guys seem to be digging that one. Maybe we could play some more new stuff for y’all tonight?” Lee asked. “I mean— the album isn’t out yet.”

Naturally, the crowd shouted and begged for more.

Bela turned to whisper to you. “They’re not gonna get in trouble for this are they?”

You shook your head. “They’ve got permission to do a few songs until the album is actually out and then they’ll change up the set list to cover more of the new stuff.”

“Got it.”

“Yeah, bootlegs always exist, but this way they’re building excitement but not giving away the farm.”

“Lee!” Dean admonished playfully. 

“What?!” Lee spat back, smirking.

“Sam— tell him.”

Sam shook his head, always stoic on stage.

Dean kept up the ruse. “I don’t know if we should. Pamela?”

Pamela thudded the bass drum and hit the crash. 

“Okay! Pammy’s in— Kevo?” Lee kept the momentum going.

And without any warning or time for Kevin to actually respond, they burst into the opening of 'Prophet and Loss'. 

“I would kill for a drink—- is there somebody we could send to concessions?” Bela asked midsong. And you looked around, wondering if any of the staff could actually leave their posts without getting in trouble. 

You suddenly felt like a bad host. “We’ll get you a box for Vegas. I know this isn’t as fun as it sounds standing for two hours straight.”

“Y/N, I’m fine. Promise.”

“Okay, well I’ll go after the next song. You want anything, Tiny?” you asked your silent companion.

“All good, boss.” He replied and straightened his stance, clasping his hands in front of him.

Kevin silenced the space with the burst of chords at the beginning of his solo, showcasing what Julliard training could do and how rock’n’roll could still be classy as hell. The key changed, turning the mood broken and lamenting as they stumbled into the bridge where Dean pelted out about losing Cas without so much detail.

 Dean let the note hang in the air. “'Prophet and Loss', everybody.”

Whistles filled the air, keeping the mood somber but with enough reception to know that small offering was gratefully accepted.

“Thanks— uh, I, we really appreciate being here tonight and being able to share some of the new album with everybody. But we know you wanna hear the stuff you know, too. So we’re gonna hop back to it and have a kick ass night. How’s that sound?” Dean checked in.

The crowd cheered.

“Did you hear something?” Dean asked Lee jokingly.

The crowd got louder.

“I don’t know if they’re up for much more,” Lee taunted back.

You rolled your eyes and turned to Bela. “Okay, I’ll be back, text me if you think of anything besides drinks.”

The crowd continued to take the bait, howling behind you as you made your way out of the off limit areas and up a side stairway towards the general admission cavern-like hallway. For the first time it felt like all day, you exhaled. Your pass flapped against your chest as you strutted quickly towards the concession area, bypassing the VIP lounge because you didn’t want to get distracted by Madison or any of the mid-level suits that might be milling around.

You could have stolen something from the dressing room, but that wouldn’t have taken nearly as long and you needed some time off of Bela duty tonight. Which made you feel guilty as hell. She was your best friend! She didn’t do anything wrong. And yet you were incredibly frustrated with even the thought of her.

So you waited in line, ordered two extremely overpriced and depressingly weak cocktails, and put them on your expense card. 

The thing about regret is that it isn’t a one time experience. There might have been a moment in the process of you contriving this scenario for Dean’s redemption where you second or third guessed yourself. But the biting sting of seeing him play happy with Bela online and even in person had come at you in waves.

Regret was bearable if it meant it worked, if Dean could have some peace.

But this wasn’t just regret, it was petulance and jealousy and injustice.

Because Bobby had asked all the way back in the beginning, why couldn’t it have been you playing arm candy? And the fact that people could see what you had tried so hard to bury and ignore plain as day, well, it made you feel incredibly small and even more pathetic.

There was no reason for you to be the one at Dean’s side. But damn did you want to be.

And somehow you had managed to keep that from one of the most important people in your life. So it wasn’t just that Bela was getting a part of Dean that you’d never have. Or parts. You shuttered at the thought of where his mouth had been. It was that your best friend hadn’t even clocked the elephant in the room.

Like she didn’t even know you at all.

Or maybe that was on you too. Maybe you hadn’t been honest with yourself until it was too late. How could you put that blame on her too?

You slammed your drink and got back in line for a replacement, not wanting to return with only Bela’s cup like some kind of maid. You could hear the crowd singing along with Lee on ‘A Reaper’s Offering’, a bluesy cut from their second studio album. 

You probably had another two songs before you’d miss anything else new. But you also knew Bela was waiting and the longer the show went on, the more drunk and ballsy random fans could get. You couldn’t leave her with the forever nonplussed Tiny for backup. You smiled at the woman working the bar cart apologetically and ordered another husk of a cocktail.

After another stream of applause, the opening bars of ‘Abandon All Hope’ started and you knew you had to book it. This was Jo’s song, you couldn’t miss it. You never left Dean to get through this one alone. Huffing down the service steps with two drinks in hand in heels was something that you managed only from practice, but you made it in time for the first chorus.

“Oh aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Bela murmured to her drink before sipping it and wincing. “It’ll do. Took you long enough,” she teased and winked, hip checking you as you struggled to get your breathing under control as you mouthed along with Dean’s words.

“Trapped by your side with no exit, we had to let you go—”

Bela quickly picked up on your shift in mood and reeled in the playfulness, for which you gave her a grateful glance before turning back to try and lock eyes with Dean on stage.

“Defending that night while trying to give comfort, we should have known—”

“To abandon all hope,” you sang out, the last lyric rising up to hover in the air. 

Dean turned and glanced in your direction and then looked again once he finally saw you. He nodded and tapped his heart and you returned the gesture, you both kept her safe as you could now. He blew a kiss to the ceiling and bowed.

The crowd continued to echo around you, suffocating yet as distant as thunder. 

“Alrighty, folks, we’re gonna take a short break for Sammy to find another shirt and we’ll get you one last sneak peak,” Dean explained. “Kevin? Think you and Pam can keep ‘em busy for me?”

“Aye-aye,” Kevin said and saluted, out of range of his mic stand.

Pam started in with the count and Kevin peeled in down from the upper registers, like he was sliding in from Heaven and crashing a party. The instrumental interlude was a mesmerizing feat of jumping genres and killing time while showcasing just what all each of them could do. But you weren’t even paying attention. Dean made a beeline for the back of the stage and he wound around security until he could find you. 

He gripped the ball of your shoulder and leaned in. “I didn’t see you until the end— had me worried, Trouble!”

He had to talk over the crowd, his back firmly towards the nearest wedge of fans.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be!”

He stared at you, sweaty and down to a single layer, earpiece still in his left ear. 

“You’re killing it up there,” Bela said, making you both stop and blink. Dean grinned and pulled her into a hug, a boyfriend hug, arms tight around her waist so her arms can loop around his neck. She even kicked a leg back for balance. 

God was she good.

“You keep an eye on her, okay? She’s gonna need tissues for the next one,” Dean warned playfully down his nose at Bela about you.

She rolled her eyes. “You are a menace on the emotional, aren’t you?”

“All in a day’s work,” Dean shrugged and set her back on her own two feet.

The crackle of a nearby walkie made Dean look around for whoever was sent to find him. “Sam’s looking for you,” an unimpressed lackey of Benny’s pointed out from ten feet away.

“Yeah, I bet he is. Alright, well, see you ladies later— Tiny,” Dean stepped back nodding. He soon disappeared only to hop up on the wing of the stage, grabbing an acoustic and sliding it on.

After the chaos of the crowd dissipated from Pamela’s and Kevin’s antics, Dean and Sam walked on stage and sat down on a pair of stools that had been left out for them. They didn’t look at each other or even the crowd and you knew in that moment that Dean hadn’t been lying. You weren’t gonna survive the next song live with a dry eye.

‘Brothers Keeper’ nearly took down the entire venue. 

Cell phones and lighters blazed in the dark, enraptured space as Dean and Sam sang about each other, about family, and about forgiveness.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

@brightlilith

@coldhearted93

@djs8891

Chapter 27: Polyphony

[teecupangel]

Jarlskona’s Mate

An au where Desmond Miles is married off to Eivor Varinsdottir by his father William Miles after he discovered she and her clan were alive again in the modern day. Many do not like the arrangement but see Eivor’s wisdom in agreeing to the arrangement to save an innocent life.

So I was curious to see how you would go about this idea. I know where I want to go but the muse ain't singing right now. The settlement occupants have all their memories from their original lifetime. And they refer to Basim as HIM.

Desmond would have just turned 16 and has that fresh scar.

I mean, you can totally do this in Eivor’s time and make this a flatout political marriage between Eivor under Sigurd’s orders and Desmond, the son of the mentor of what remains of England’s Hidden Ones.

In a modern day setting though, maybe Eivor was living in an isolated community until the Great Purge reached their home. Only a few of them managed to survived and those people are the ones who used to lived in Ravensthrope and that’s the day they start remembering their past lives.

Hytham is the one who suggested they try and find the Hidden Ones because there’s no way the Hidden Ones wouldn’t exist in this time, especially with his theory that Abstergo might be connected to the Order of the Ancient.

They realized that it may be a bit more complicated (or simpler, depending on who they ask) after the attack because they managed to take one alive who spilled the beans that they were attacked because they were connected to the Assassin Brotherhood and that they were Templars. He didn’t even know what the hell the Order of the Ancients is.

Eivor ends up traveling to try and figure more stuff because, if they are connected to the Brotherhood, then there’s a high possibility they would be allies.

This leads her to William Miles who is barely holding it together because the Great Purge is in full swing. Eivor decided to help them because they were better off as allies and Hytham confirmed that there were too many similarities between the Hidden Ones and the Brotherhood for them to be dismissed as a coincidence.

Bill didn’t trust them though since he doesn’t buy into all this Hidden Ones nonsense but an ally was greatly appreciated.

This leads to Eivor teaming up with Bill’s wife and they did not get along at all.

She thinks Eivor is too violent.

Eivor thinks she’s too cold.

Hytham was there to keep the two of them from actually trying to kill one another after every mission.

In the end, they were able to save more than they would have been able to had Eivor and her clan not helped.

An alliance was formed during those darkest of times and the Great Purge died down 3 years after the initial attack.

Everything was still in shambles and, really, the Brotherhood wasn’t in any real position to do anything more than poke at Abstergo.

Eivor’s clan, on the other hand, could turn into a good spec ops team if they were given proper gear and training.

And that’s where a kind of ‘exchange’ happened.

As a promise to help Eivor’s clan with supplies that they could use to fuck Abstergo up, Eivor would be taking on his son as her husband.

Everyone knows that it wasn’t exactly a political marriage or anything.

Desmond Miles was being given as a hostage to show that the Brotherhood wasn’t going to go against their promise.

But the thing is…

Eivor received a letter from Desmond’s mother a day before she was to meet her child groom.

She had been the one to suggest Desmond be given to Eivor because she learned her son was planning to try and escape the Brotherhood.

So he was sent to Ravensthrope to be a hostage…

But Eivor had a feeling this was a compromise his mother made to get him out of the Farm without endangering him.

Well…

She wasn’t exactly thrilled to have a child husband.

She’d talk to him and try to befriend him then go from there.

[kiefbowl]

I live in Seattle and wanna move back to Chicago one day. Your blog is cool, mine ain't and that's why I'm anon. Serious question here: my family is pressuring me to have kids (I'm a lady) and I don't want to do that. I'm 31 and hetero-married. I wonder about if it'd even matter if I regretted my decision to not have kids. Is this potential regret going to shatter me emotionally? I don't think so. Has anyone ever pressured you to have children? I wonder if I'd be ready to have kids if I was not expected to. Does that make sense? Anyway love your blog because you're real and super relatable.

Yeah, I feel a little pressure. I think when compared to other women, it's really not so bad. I think my mom feels like she can't talk to me at all about children (which isn't true...she's just unwilling to have the conversation on my terms), so she has made some off handed comments to people who aren't me within my earshot, things like "well I'll never have a grandchild at this rate" and other nonsense. The thing is I actually haven't decided yet, and I am leaning towards yes as long as certain things happen in the next couple years financially. I also feel the "biological clock" as it where in the fact that it would be nice to have a baby by a certain age if I'm going to have any, and that age gets closer. However, I'm not overly concerned about that either. It weighs on me but ultimately I want to make this choice intelligently, because I'm not interested in bringing a child into the world without it being the best situation possible for that child, so if I haven't reach certain goals by 35, I'm not going to say fuck it let's get pregnant just so I'm having a baby by 35.

I'm quite satisfied with what my life is and could become without kids, so I don't think I'll regret it if it never happens. I think I could feel sad though, only because if it doesn't happen, it feels like a choice I didn't get to make freely, and I can see myself lamenting never meeting the child I could have love. That being said, my life won't be over! I'll have freedom, youth, money. I'll lament it in the same way I didn't try to become a paleontologist or travel vlogger now knowing with hindsight I could have with the right guidance and knowledge. You can't be everything, and if I don't become a mom, I'll be the other things I'll be.

All that's to say, if you don't feel like me right now, you're probably right that you won't regret it. And if you start feeling like me in a couple years, that's fine because you still have time. And if you do end up feeling shattered with regret...you know, you just can't avoid grief and pain, so why try to hedge your bets on this one when it involves brining another person in the world? Maybe you will feel sad later, but I think you'll have the wherewithal to shoulder it, because you've probably already lived through many sad things and disappointments and jealousy and anger, why would this be something so uniquely different?

In the end, you can't live your life for others. You have to make your life your own, and every choice you make will have detractors. Ultimately, you have to say "well fuck off lol" even if it's your own family.

Good luck sis!

[misc-obeyme]

OKAY I’m back on my theory bullshit. Spoilers for all the things below.

I was thinking about this post I wrote forever ago about how I thought we were dealing with past!Solomon rather than present!Solomon.

I also had a theory that there were two Solomons since he seemed to be inexplicably changing his outfits for no reason. (I didn't put that one in the masterlist and I admit that I didn't go looking for it lol. It's on my blog somewhere, possibly in one of my lesson related rants.)

And THEN I was thinking nah it has to be that these are all the same characters from the present & they’ve just had their memories erased.

Barbatos knows what’s going on. That seems plain enough to me.

Isn’t it possible that being eighth on the list was just an excuse? Because he can’t tell MC the true reason for his anger. So he's doing it for MC's sake and to keep up appearances? It doesn't really matter, though, 'cause this post ain't about him lol.

I still think my original theory about Solomon might be right, but there are a couple other things I think might be happening.

MASSIVE DISCLAIMER: I love Solomon. I always have, I always will. I don't mind if other people don't like him, I totally get it. We all have characters we don't like. But I just wanted to be clear, it's all good either way and I think everyone's opinion is valid. <3

Scenario One: We really did go back in time and this really is a past version of all the characters. Events are now being changed due to MC's presence.

Scenario Two: We're in a simulation of the past, these are all the same present characters, but with their memories wiped. This is why events are happening differently than how they did before.

Scenario Three: None of the characters are real and the whole thing is a simulation and MC has been in a coma all along.

I don't really think it's that last one, but man if that turns out to be it, I will be so angry.

Anyway, I think we're either dealing with past!Solomon who knows stuff because he knows Nightbringer and/or because he used Barb's powers to look into the future to learn about MC (see my original post for more about that) OR we're dealing with someone disguising themselves as Solomon part of the time (thus the changing outfits).

There has to be a reason why they showed us that hard lesson where Michael took on Raphael's entire appearance to travel to the Devildom himself. (Though I admit the reason could just have been about Michael and nothing to do with trying to showcase how identities can be misleading.)

If characters can do that, who's to say that isn't what Nightbringer's been doing all along?

And I can't imagine who Nightbringer would pretend to be other than Solomon, the one who knows the most about what's happening, the one who's currently closest to MC, the one who could actually influence how things go at this point.

I'M JUST SAYING.

This nonsense has been stewing in my brain since April. I'm so annoyed, I just wanna know what happens so I don't have to think about it anymore, even if it's a terrible resolution that I hate lol.

Anyway, that's it. I just needed to rant about it for a minute. I'm gonna go back to fic writing now. It's much healthier for my mental state.

[kuiilandtorch]

My Random-Ass Headcanon Lore Compilation That Nonetheless Does (Mostly) Tie Together, Part 1

aka, My Personal Star Wars "Theory of Everything" that's more than a little deranged and I'm putting it out there in hopes that somebody else would like to foam at the mouth over it as much as I do

If you thought midichlorians were bad, buddy you ain't seen nothing yet

(if it helps, just imagine bill wurtz is narrating this)

HISTORY OF THE ENTIRE GALAXY, I GUESS

So in Legends EU - which frankly, if you're gonna do weird shit in the star war, at least the old EU had panache - the ancient proto-Jedi were called the Je'daii and TL;DR, got started after some flying pyramids called Tho Yor showed up all across the galaxy to, uh, benevolently abduct Force sensitives from many different species and dump them on a magic planet in the heart of the galaxy called Tython, where they studied the Force.

The Tho Yor were implied to be creations of a super-advanced alien species (who may have even been from a different galaxy). However, in my nonsense reality, the Tho Yor are instead the hyper-evolved forms of beings who used to be regular people of various species that spent such a long time in intense contemplation of the Force, their existence transcended the 4 perceptible dimensions of space and time and the corresponding laws of physics. Think the bulk beings from Interstellar except instead of totally peacing out of reality apart from their wormholes and tesseracts, the Tho Yor still somewhat hang around as "ships." Due to a sort of "sacred geometry" they chose to take on a pyramidal shape as their default, but my Tho Yor are fluid in their quasi-physical forms, shifting into any number of other configurations. At one point I have a Tho Yor shifting into the dodecahedral shape of what's recognized as being the Great Holocron, implying that that's what inspired the holocron's design. Their surface is a glossy dark iridescent material segmented almost like scales, sometimes rippling in an organic motion - think the skin of an indigo snake, or the oily rainbow sheen of a crow's or raven's feathers. The glowing portals on their hulls are also irregular, pulsating and changing size, shape, and color in a complex display of communication.

Because the Tho Yor are extra-dimensional, they can not only alter their shape, they're just plain not limited to anything perceivable in the 4D realm; like a TARDIS, they're infinitely "bigger on the inside" because they can serve as portals to higher dimensions. They're able to teleport anywhere instantaneously in a form of travel that's a much further advanced version of what serves as hyperspace for the GFFA (implying that, as Legends itself establishes about hyperspace, it's a not-well-understood reverse-engineered form of space travel constructed by powerful beings and left behind for other people to sort of figure out later on, just enough to be able to utilize it but never fully comprehend it). The Tho Yor sort of fold themselves up, collapsing and vanishing into higher dimensions, then pop back out wherever they please, causing major atmospheric displacement when doing so. (aka, it's really fucking LOUD.) Ramiel from Neon Genesis Evangelion's Rebuild edition is also a huge inspiration for my version of the Tho Yor, just, y'know...minus the catastrophic destruction lol.

Sort of.

Because while my Tho Yor are not weaponized per se, they're not defenseless. They're peaceful - a Jedi uses the Force for knowledge and defense, never for attack - BUT if a Tho Yor is threatened or "damaged" (which isn't actually possible but they could appear to be temporarily harmed if, say, bombed or blasted with turbolasers, etc.), they simply open themselves up like an eldritch origami flower and dissolve and absorb whatever the fuck is attacking them. This feeds (pardon the pun) into the Force's greater cosmic philosophy of the balance of life and death. Life is valuable and precious as it is what generates the Force and keeps it flourishing, but without death more life can't exist, so sometimes you gotta break some eggs and recycle them and it's fine in the grand scheme of things, even though it seems very much NOT fine on the microcosmic scale of people on planets. It's the ciiiiiiiiiiiiircle of liiiiiiiiiiiiiife.

Another feature of their shapeshifting is using it to communicate with non-Force-sensitives. They can stretch, bud, and liquify parts of their hulls, transforming them into any possible material, to display something recognizable to that person as a means of expressing, you are known to us. For example, one of the Tho Yor signals to a wary, defensive Din Djarin by extending a tendril toward him that first transforms into raw beskar, and then into the deep red cloth of his boyhood garb on Aq Vetina, acknowledging his whole identity and freaking the fuck out of him even more lol.

That's not all about the Tho Yor, tho. Since once upon a very distant time they used to be people...

...they're also the Whills.

Thus the Tho Yor/Whills are hyper-beings with godlike powers who only exercise those abilities to observe galactic events for the sole purpose of recording all of history, without intervening apart from that one time they decided to kickstart mass organization of Force users. Occasionally, when certain strongly attuned Force users die, they will approach them within the cosmic soup of the Force and offer to have them join their ranks as a fellow observer.

(One of these was Anakin Skywalker, who was considered a "Chosen One" because he experienced the full gamut of good and evil in his deeds and thus is considered a particularly knowledgeable being. In one of my WIPs, Anakin - whose spirit exists as a sort of tesseract of all his personas, including all the people he could have been but was not - is actually considering their offer as a sort of self-flagellating punishment, to make himself bear witness to the heat death of the universe, the greatest torment to his soul that he deserves for his crimes. But Luke - who's tripping balls in the Force and has been taken on a wild ride by the Tho Yor/Whills - simply tells him, "You don't have to, though. You could come with me." Luke, who readily confesses to the Whills that he couldn't tolerate standing on the cosmic sidelines watching the universe continue to suffer, prefers to live out his natural life and just become one with the Force, ceding his individual consciousness to the spiritual sea. The philosophical journey he's taken on is actually a great relief to him, to grasp how infinitesimally tiny he is in the immeasurable scale of time and how the galaxy will still spin long after he's dead and all memory of him has been erased. It makes the crushing responsibility of restoring the Jedi Order feel like a lighter burden, because no matter what he does or doesn't accomplish, it'll be okay eventually. Things will work out. Cycles ebb and flow. There will be countless others after him with similar burdens, more golden ages to come, more wars, more times of peace, more catastrophes and tragedies, and so it goes. He's just a blip, and he can live with that. And Anakin inflicting almost-eternal misery upon himself isn't going to fix any of the wrongs he did. He can still make amends from the hard-earned wisdom he's gained from beyond the mortal plane, but he's welcome to join Luke in equally mortal existence, following Obi-Wan and Yoda who've already "crossed over" and given up their own consciousness.)

All things must be, and all things will end, the Whills state. That is the great promise. And indeed they will, because with the Force dependent on life, there will eventually be a time when the decaying universe, bereft of anything except evaporating black holes, can no longer support life of any kind, and thus even the Force itself will come to an end, and the journals of the Whills will be complete.

The Force itself may seem to have a "will," but I personally prefer it to be a largely unknowable and unpersonified entity. I don't espouse the view of The Ones from Mortis being embodiments of the Force. If anything, I like to conceive of the Force more along the lines of the fractal alien from Annihilation:

An ambiguous essence that straddles the line between benevolence and callousness, because it functions at a level outside the scope of living comprehension.

Do you not know that you were born in violence? the Whills ask. That without the deaths of stars, the cradles of your worlds and the elements in your blood could not exist? Without the abyss of singularities as their engines, your galaxies could not coalesce? Without decay, whole living systems could not proliferate? Matter itself arose from a cosmic crucible. Death has allowed you to live.

I also like to picture the realm of the Cosmic Force as a fractal tapestry a la melodysheep's drug-trip visuals:

All living things in the universe displayed in shrimp colors, each strand an individual lifeform, unfurling and budding as their lifespan stretches out, evaporating upon their death while another filament snaps into place with the birth of a new one, from bacteria to megafauna and everything in-between.

*As a side note, I also have some vague desire to connect the Force with quantum physics/entanglement and maybe even electromagnetism. I mean, if George Lucas envisioned a space version of The Powerhouse of the Cell™ as magic Force germs inside of everybody, I don't think it's any crazier to imagine the Force as having a relationship to quantum physics as a means to sort of explain how some people can become psychic bathrobe glowstick wizards with the power to move shit with their brains, feel others' emotions, have clairvoyance, and perceive some things across vast interstellar distances. I don't mind a spiritual concept having an interrogation with scientific principles, I just like shit to be as weird as possible.

[delewlew]

meet the team principal ༘⋆༄.°⋆

i'm getting back into writing on this acc + i've had this blog for a few months but never made a meet the admin post so here it is!

name: four (yes like the number, no 1-3 weren't taken)

age: 22

birthday: august 1 (i'm not into astrology so idk my birth chart)

pronouns: she/her

sexuality: queer

non-f1 hobbies/interests: kpop, reading books, crocheting, crosswords/sudoku, coloring, baking, cooking, travelling

yes i'm a fantasy book girlie- mostly poc written but not exclusive to it so lmk if any of yall be reading books cuz i'd love a book friend!

favorite shows/movies: avatar the last airbender, legend of korra, marvel, star wars, hunger games, harry potter, she-ra, the owl house (basically anything gay, nerdy/dorky, or slightly loser-esque 🤌)

favorite singers/groups: sabrina carpenter (i'm an OG veteran stan of 10+ years!), sza, tyla, twice, aespa, nct 127, many others

how'd i get here: i needed something to watch bc i just finished the live action ATLA series and got bored. i saw DTS sitting there in my suggested cuz season 6 had just come out so i tuned in. then i tuned into the actual races and realized just how great they are, 2024 season was actually a great time to come in cuz wow the drama!

when did i start writing: i had a few kpop fic accs where i wrote wlw content for about 5 years but i lost interest from lack of engagement and a lot of my friends left. so i turned to ao3 and posted a few things there for ATLA and my old sideblog where i wrote for marvel characters. but once i got into f1 i just made this blog and started writing for a few drivers because i didn't see too many black fem reader fics so i write to help add more.

when do i post: whenever i can really. i don't like to pressure myself too much because then i get overwhelmed and it's not fun to write. so when i get the ideas or energy to write i do, but there's no set schedule as of right now

favorite drivers: lewis, lando, and charles are what i call my podium or top 3. however oscar has wiggled his way up in the mix and mick has my entire heart plus ollie and kimi are my sons...i also love our honey badger. i could go on really.

favorite team: honestly i'm just going to say mclaren but i'm not too picky about teams i just don't like redbull at all (not the drivers the TEAM)

any other motorsports: i did watch Born Racers and thought it was neat so i may tune into MotoGP at some point. i didn't watch F2 or F3 much last season but i'll be tuning in this year cuz i want my money's worth ($10.99 a month ain't cheap). i watched F1 Academy though and kept up with it closely.

are messages open: i love a good internet friend. as long as you're not a minor or a big effing weirdo then feel free to message me to be friends, i need more f1 friends but if we share any other interests that's fine as well!

any last thoughts: one thing i will note is that i don't keep up with the drivers personal lives like it's my own life. i don't stalk their IGs, locations, etc. i don't know when max's private jet took off and when it landed, i don't know all of the drivers friends and family names and who knows who and who's what to who. i don't keep up with the tea between WAGs. and most importantly i don't bash drivers for nonsensical reasons like their team building a better car or not liking the way someone said three words to someone else. it's really just not that serious to me so just a heads up that if you're that kinda fan i won't match your energy in conversation 😅

[bernardellinewsagency]

can i interest you all in some gallayuan in these trying times? fr tho i cranked this out because you really do gotta create the content you wanna see in this world. it is literally just 600 words of only dialogue and as with many ideas of mine i didn't feel like writing out the background for this scenario so just use your imagination and extrapolation abilities. i believe in you :)

im also tired as fuck cause it's nearly 2am when im posting this and it's barely edited so you see mistakes or if it's barely comprehensible, um, pretend you don't, those are problems for future me. i'm just trying to get people to see my vision of these two being a ship okay? the words are just a vehicle to transport my meaning with.

"Sorry, I didn't realize there was anyone else here."

"Don't sweat it, honestly. Besides, I'm just passing through, finishing up some sightseeing here. Looks like you're pretty busy, so I'll leave and get outta your hair soon."

"Nonsense! A guest on the Luofu should be able to stay for as long as they wish."

"Ha, funny, I'm used to hearing the opposite of that. It's not exactly the opposite, I guess, but it's close enough."

"Did someone on the Luofu say something to you to the contrary? While it's not too often that a guest chooses to visit Fyxestroll Garden, it is safe to do so and the guards should not restrict anyone's comings and goings any longer. Or was it elsewhere? Do I need to speak to the Cloud Knights or the Commission about the behaviors they're displaying?"

"What? No, everyone's been kind and polite and all that. I came here from Penacony, so I'm used to hearing that everyone can stay only so long as they've got the money to do so. Ain't no rest for the poor, but plenty for the wicked, you know what I mean?"

"Ah, I suppose that I do. Some people never seem to get what they deserve."

"Sounds like you're speaking from personal experience."

"Does it? You know, many tourists tend to shy away from Fyxestroll Garden for the very reason that some specifically visit. It is a place to... let go. Release the dead so that they may move on, and you may do the same."

"Thinking you've already figured out I'm not returning to Penacony any time soon?"

"Call it just a hunch of mine."

"Well it's a damn good hunch, 'cause it's true. I was uh... involved, should I say, in some of the shit that went down. Couldn't stay there any longer. Not like I'm on the run or anything, not from anything other than the memories, it just became my time to move on and leave it behind."

"Ah, I thought I had seen something similar within you. So, if you're running from the past, what is it you're running toward?"

"What is this, an interrogation?"

"Call it humoring a new friend."

"Haha, alright. I will. I'm going to the same place we all are- the imperfect tomorrow."

"How poetic of you."

"I'm known for my wit on occasion. How about you? Do I also get an answer in return, new friend?"

"Call me Jing Yuan. I suppose that makes me a traveler in the opposite direction, then. Burn your memories and reach tomorrow, or cling to them and stay in the past."

"You say you're clinging to something, yet you're hanging around a place you said was for letting go? Put it together, sounds like you're just torturing yourself. I'm Gallagher, by the way."

"Simply honoring those I've lost, but- you're not entirely wrong. Say, this may be too presumptuous of me, but would you like to walk with me?"

"Where to?"

"Any sight in the Luofu you wish to see before you leave is open to you, even those which average people cannot access so long as I am there to allow you in. We may be headed in different directions with regards to philosophy, but let's allow our physical paths to cross for a while longer, shall we?"

"I'd be a fool not to take you up on that, Mister Jing Yuan. But first, let's stay here just a little bit longer. It really is a beautiful sight, and I think it's doing both of us some good."

[borhapparker]

pascal's fan net writing challenge!

welcome!! this is our writing challenge from the pascal's fan net discord! this is our first event we will be hosting! for those interested, you can write and participate in the challenge! and if you'd like to join the discord, send me or @pbnjparker a message!

this consists of song prompts and au's

rules: - must be following everyone in the challenge: @pbnjparker @guess-my-next-obsession @living-for-jesus-and-telenovelas @talaok @punkette1026 @strang3lov3 @jobean12-blog @beardedjoel - reblog this post to spread the word - deadline will be august 15 - smut is allowed but must be marked as MDNI ! - can be a one shot or series! - tag your entry with #pascalsnetwritingchallenge - what can you write for: any of pedro pascal's characters + pedro himself! - two people per song prompt and two people per au prompt

enter writing challenge here!

Song List:

Me and Your Mama by Childish Gambino

Broken Melodies by NCT Dream

Hurt by NewJeans

Eastside by Benny Blanco, Halsey, Khalid

A Kiss by The Driver Era

Sunflower (remix) by Swae Lee, Post Malone, Nicky Jam, Prince Royce

Lover by Taylor Swift

Nonsense by Sabrina Carpenter

Ain't No Rest For The Wicked by Cage The Elephant

Bad Idea by Girl In Red

Electric Love by Borns

Woman by Doja Cat

Malibu by The Driver Era

Cupid by Fifty Fifty

Dancing in the Dark by Bruce Springsteen

Heaven by Niall Horan

Style by Taylor Swift

AU List:

artist!character x intern!reader (artistic/happy character and stressed out intern in a corporate office)

switched luggage at the airport

searching for a lost dog even if you don't know each other

sat next to each other on a rollercoaster as strangers

soulmate au with heterochromia (right side is your own eye color, left side is your soulmate's color)

modern royalty au

western au

rockstar and groupie au

time traveling partners

"you give me a different fake name every time you come into starbucks and i just want to know your real name because you're cute but here i am scrawling batman onto your stupid cappuccino"

flower shop owner x tattoo artist owner next door

arranged marriage au

paired for interviews but you only had one scene in the movie together au

bookstore owner x regular cute patron

knight x princess

wedding planning au

award shows actor/actress x interviewee

[creature-wizard]

What are your thoughts on Adam Archon the alleged time traveler? He passed the lie detector tests.

So this whole notion that you can tell whether someone is lying with a polygraph test is bunk. "Passing" a so-called lie detector test doesn't tell you whether someone is truthful, it only tells you whether they are capable of remaining calm while being questioned under a polygraph test, which is the kind of thing a skillful liar can do. See The Truth About Lie Detectors (aka Polygraph Tests).

Giving him a quick search, I found this article, and it turns out that this guy isn't even making up his own predictions; he's stealing them from another supposed time traveler, named Noah.

As far as the predictions listed in the article go, let's just say I ain't impressed. For example, he claims that there will be chips implanted in people's right hands in 2029 that "expands their brain functions" and "lets them stay healthy."

First, a chip implanted in your right hand couldn't communicate with your brain in that way. Second, any chip powerful enough to augment your brain and keep you healthy would use substantial power. (Consider how much power a cellphone uses.) Third, Evangelical Christians would absolutely riot if something like that was ever rolled out, because as far as they're concerned, that's the Mark of the Beast.

He claims that "by the early 2030s, all countries around the globe will start to merge into one global nation." Lol and lmao. Imagine China, Russia, and the US agreeing to surrender their autonomy like that in just six years; it's completely absurd.

So yeah, this guy's nothing to take seriously. He's stealing his material from another guy, and it's all nonsense anyway.

[ky-the-squiddy]

Hope life is treating you with kindness.

Hi, yeah, yep, I promise I'm all good, don't worry 💙

My '''''brief''''' break from tumblr last december because of travel kinda just never stopped 'cos I wanted to see what difference to my life it'd make, and honestly? It's been a helluva lot easier to manage various day-to-day stuff without feeling like I'm getting stuck on the hamster wheel that is my dashboard. I do miss the hellsite (affectionate (derogatory)) at times, but with the limited spoons I've got, tumblr ain't getting 'em

Life's doing alright though! Currently a bit stressful because of work nonsense and because my family is flying halfway around the world to visit in about a month so I've got a lot of prep to do before they get here, but it's good stuff because maybe potential promotion?? and also I miss my dad and brother and grandma and I haven't seen them in over 5 years now

The world gives me kindnesses by surrounding me with understanding and patient people, by letting me grow a herb garden on my windowsill, by keeping the one old man who runs my favourite tea shop in the market in good health, by playing out the corvid soap operas on the rooftops across from us (my partner has named the fledgeling rook Baby Kazoo), and by letting me keep taking life one breath at a time

I hope it's doing the same for you, Super 💙

[opheliajupiter99]

Once Upon a Rapture Pt.5

A private bathysphere quietly docked in Olympus Heights, an area of Rapture mostly used for housing, though there were shops and such as well. Specifically, the pair of Frost and Kremy made their way to Mercury Suites, containing high end residential suites for the wealthy and influential.

Kremy's living space was private, unknown to most beyond Gideon and Twig, he felt it was necessary when he had so much competition in his field, and while he did indeed want to help Frost, he didn't trust him enough to take him there. Besides, he'd already checked it over for any indication of where Gideon might've ended up and found nothing. So instead, they travelled to Frost's residence.

Frost was what one would likely expect of a scholar of his stature; an enormous library stacked high with rare and ancient books, so tall that one needed a ladder to ascend to the highest peak, while his actual living quarters were a simple bedroll tucked off in the corner, and from the messy state of his desk, it seemed most days he didn't even managed to -get- to the bed before passing out in a mound of books.

The section of the house reserved for Gricko and Hootsie however were much cozier, a blanket fort constructed in one corner, string lights hung from the ceiling, stickers and toys scattered all over the floor, and crayon drawings of various adorable scenes hung up on the walls. Drawings that once made Frost feel hopeful, but now he found it difficult to even look at them.

The pair investigated Gricko and Hootsie's section of the house, since all that was really of note in Frost's section was empty EVE hypos scattered about and page after page of nonsense equations and deduction, most of which he didn't even recall writing. Gricko searched around the bedroom area for the pair, while Kremy was nearby searching through a small bookshelf, which mostly contained children's books for Hootsie. It was clear from just a passing glance at the room the man had focused almost all of his attention on his daughter, very little within the entire area that related to himself.

As Kremy glided his fingers over the spines of the books, he hummed in thought. He'd been mulling over something in the back of his head most of the ride here but wasn't sure the best time to get into it. He shrugged, deciding it was best to just get it out of the way now.

"Hey, Frost?" Frost looked up, having been just about to look under Gricko's bed for any possible clues. "Yes?" He said, his eyes looking as tired as ever, but now held a faint glimmer of hope, even if it was a drop in a vast ocean of despair.

"Look fella, ah don't wanna be rude, and ah ain't tryin' to imply anythin'...but ya don't gotta be a genius to see the state ya in, and with how much ya been tellin' me ya've been splicin'...is there anythin' ah should be worryin' about?"

Frost paused for a moment, frowning deeply. It certainly wasn't that he couldn't think of anything; of course, Kremy already knew about the rabid researching and illogical thoughts, but he knew he meant something more...dangerous than that.

He took a deep breath and let it out as a somber sigh. "I...I don't handle, blood well." He said in an ashamed tone. Kremy tilted his head. "Like...how ya mean?" He said confused; at first, he thought he meant he was squeamish, but why would he say it like that? Frost huffed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I...like it, too much...okay? I don't know if it's because of the ADAM in it, or if it's something...much, much worse...but sometimes I...crave it, I suppose you'd say. On occasion, when I'd be r-reading by books, I'd...look down and see I'd been chewing a-at my own hand for God knows how long, without even realizing."

Kremy blinked twice at that. "...Yeah. Yeah, think that qualifies as ah problem, fella. Ah want ya to know, ah ain't gonna do anythin' rash, ah'll try to snap ya out of it first. But if I can't?" They stared at each other for a moment. He didn't really need to explain further, Frost understood, giving a somber little ghost of a smile. "I understand. It's okay."

Kremy nodded, looking back to the bookshelf. As he did, Frost looked down, lost in his own sorrowful thoughts for a long moment. He was so lost, it took him almost a minute to realize there was an audio diary at his feet. They were specially built and created to be...well, audio diaries, tape recorders but much more complex, even able to display a small, but detailed picture of the person that recorded it.

He picked it up, the glint of the metal catching Kremy's eye as he turned to look as Frost hit play on the tape.

The tape itself was bad enough, but Frost was further stunned by the picture the audio diary displayed; a stout, bearded Irish woman with a bloodthirsty expression plastered upon her face. He recognized that face from the papers, the Tribune speaking of a serial killer that had been brutally butchering people across the city, her calling card being the corpses all being crushed with modified Big Daddy boots. Of course, it being a lawless city, the Tribune couldn't do much more than warn people.

"He....was being...s-stalked?" Frost stammered finally, blinking rapidly as his heart pounded. "W-Why didn't he tell me? And...h-how didn't I notice?" He took a deep, shaky breath. "H-Have I already gone that mad? That I couldn't notice someone like that breaking into our house, over and over?" He started to hyperventilate, Kremy standing and moving over to him swiftly, gripping his shoulders.

"Come on fella, stay with me! This don't gotta be bad, okay?" Frost glared at him for a moment, breathing heavily. "A'ight yeah, ah know how that sounds, but let me explain! If this lady's been stalkin' this fella, then she must know where he ended up, right?" Frost processed that for a moment, wide eyes staring into Kremy's for a long moment. Finally, his breathing started to get under control again, still a bit shaky as he gripped himself tightly for support. "Y-Yeah..." He mumbled.

"So, we find this lady, and we find Gricko, right?" Frost shakily nodded, Kremy offering the most comforting smile a shady fella like him could manage. "Good. And don't ya worry bout findin' here. For a fella in my line of work? Findin' a shady lady like her'll be no problem, ah guarantee it."

[lookofhisoceaneyes]

**The Best of the Best: Must-Read Fanfiction Gems**

2/4

Marvel Fandom: 

1. when i die i’ll sacrifice (more than enough for the afterlife) by notcaycepollard

when i die i’ll sacrifice (more than enough for the afterlife) - notcaycepollard - Captain America (Movies) [Archive of Our Own]

The fall is longer than Natasha expects.

It’s tears cold on her face, teeth bitten all the way through her lip and the taste of copper in her mouth; she’s falling and falling and then, bracing for impact—she wakes up.

---

main ship: Maria Hill/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers

Oh my, Oh my, a kind of fix-it fic in which Natasha doesn't die but travels back in time and tries to make everything better. An absolute comfort fic for me. Quietnight has also recorded a really great podfic. Listen to it too!

the podfic: [Podfic] when i die i’ll sacrifice (more than enough for the afterlife) - quietnight - Captain America (Movies) [Archive of Our Own]

2. I'll explain everything to the geese by napricot

I'll explain everything to the geese - Chapter 1 - napricot - Marvel Cinematic Universe [Archive of Our Own]

Bucky is so competent that it hurts my feelings is not a rational complaint to have about a person, and yet, after a year of being Captain America and partnering up with Bucky for the new and improved, post-Blip Avengers, that’s kinda how Sam’s feeling.

It’s not great. It maybe leads to Sam making some rash, ill-advised decisions like claiming he has a previously undisclosed superpower, and then getting caught in a web of lies when he ends up actually developing that surprisingly inconvenient superpower. Talking to birds had seemed like a harmless superpower, but it turns out that birds have a lot of opinions, and they don’t hesitate to tell Sam about them, especially when it comes to his supposedly subpar courting skills. Which is ridiculous, because Sam isn’t courting Bucky. Right?

---

main ship: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson

I love SamBucky fic where Bucky is competent and has a lot of skills. The fic is very humorous and well written. It's about lots of talking birds and a rather smitten Sam. Be sure to check out napricot's profile. Quietnight has also recorded a great podfic, check it out too:

podfic:[Podfic] I'll explain everything to the geese - Chapter 1 - quietnight - Marvel Cinematic Universe [Archive of Our Own]

---

3. ain't really quaint by quietnight, silentwalrus

ain't really quaint - Chapter 1 - quietnight, silentwalrus - Captain America - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]

Natasha stops by on a Tuesday, early enough in the morning that it would have been late by Steve’s old standards. Now, though, it takes him nearly three minutes just to limp to the door, yawning, and when he opens it he has to lean heavily on the doorframe.

“Hi,” Natasha says, over the beginnings of birdsong. She’s not alone. “Can we come in?”

---

Main Ship: Steve Rogers/James "Bucky" Barnes 

You want a funny fic with comic accurate, Bucky Barnes, an absolute troll Steve Rogers (Who pretends to be a farmer?) Then you've come to the right place! Bucky is kind of a shy animal and Steve makes it harder for him than it should be. (In a funny way.)There's a great podfic from Quietnight here too (can you tell I love Quietnight's podfics?)

the podfic: [Podfic] ain't really quaint - Chapter 1 - quietnight - Captain America - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]

4. the thing is by napricot

the thing is - Chapter 1 - napricot - Marvel Cinematic Universe [Archive of Our Own]

“I don’t have a problem!” Sam insists. “Bucky is not a problem. Bucky is on a beautiful journey of self-care and healing and making amends with his body, and I support him 100%.”

“Mmhmm,” says Sarah, and when Sam can tear his gaze away from Bucky, he sees that she’s fixing him with a sweetly compassionate gaze. He readies himself for some no-nonsense sisterly wisdom. In tones of deep sympathy, she says, “And you’re horny about it.”

Sam grits his teeth and grips the arms of his lounge chair. “I’m so horny about it, oh my god.”

Bucky is finally ready to make amends with himself, and specifically his body, but he might need to enlist some help. If that help involves kind of, sort of tricking an overworked Sam into doing some self-care and having some fun of his own, so much the better. Sam, meanwhile, is happy to help, it's just that helping Bucky is turning out to have the inconvenient side effect of falling for him too.

—-

Main Ship: Sam Wilson/James "Bucky" Barnes 

Healing Bucky Barnes? Therapy, yoga and a stressed-out Sam who can't cope? Sign me up! Another fanfic that's a real comfort fic. Maybe I just want to be in such good therapy myself, but who knows. It's definitely worth it!

5. Out of the Dead Land by orphan_account

Out of the Dead Land - Chapter 1 - orphan_account - Captain America (Movies) [Archive of Our Own]

Someone is building machines that look and act like people.

Meanwhile, the Winter Soldier tries to be Bucky Barnes.

—

Main Ship: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers

You want a fic where the Winter Soldier finds out he's Bucky Barnes? Join Bucky Barnes as he comes in from the cold. There's also a great podfic from Quietnight.

Podfic:[Podfic] Out of the Dead Land - Chapter 1 - quietnight - Captain America (Movies) [Archive of Our Own]

6. keep making trouble (til you find what you love) by squadrickchestopher

keep making trouble (til you find what you love) - squadrickchestopher - Marvel Cinematic Universe [Archive of Our Own]

“I am paying attention,” Clint says, glaring at him. He’s so done with this guy. “Your name is Cale Montague. You wear sunglasses both at night and inside, which means you’re doubly the tool I thought you were. Your first name is also a vegetable, so I’m guessing your parents were either hippies or super rich. You like to hit poor, defenseless guys, and your suit is very much a last season kind of thing. That about cover it?”

Montague looks a little nonplussed at this. Behind him, Barnes’s shoulders are shaking with muffled laughter. Clint stifles his own grin and waits for an answer.

After a moment, Montague pinches the bridge of his nose and says, “This is going to be a long night, isn’t it?”

—

Main Ship: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton (this is Comic!Clint Barton)

You like comic accurate Clint Barton and Bucky Barnes? Then this is the fic for you. A good pinch of humor, action and a lot of bickering. There is also a fantastic Podfic. Make sure to check it out!

the podfic: (next post)

[autisticrosewilson]

Heart to Heart

More transfem Grant and angst! Chronologically, this happens before my first excerpts. OOC slide because this is an au where he sucks less. Well. He sucks differently than he did before.

~~~~~~~~~~

Someone is following her. Has been for a while, and they're good enough that she hasn't caught a glimpse of them yet.

Greta scans the crowd but no one is ever looking at her, there's no telltale glint from any of the rooftops. She steers clear of every visible security camera but the feeling never lessens.

Their gaze is a prickle up her spine, and no matter how many times she changes her routine or her route home she can never seem to lose the tail.

In the end, the man finds her before she finds him.

"So how mad is he?" She can't meet the eyes of that mask, doesn't want to see what's reflected at her from the blank white lens.

"He's not-" Deathstroke starts but it's two AM and she is so very tired of looking over her shoulder and policing her own every move, lest she make an even bigger mess for herself.

"Of course not," she scoffs, "never mad, just disappointed." Greta quotes. "Always so disappointed." She glares at the sticky tile that's been bothering her all night, but that was the day shifts job and she's firmly refusing to pick up their slack.

"...He loves you." Is what the mercenary says after a moment of silence, gruff and quiet.

It catches her off guard enough that she looks at him. "You don't know that." Is the first thing out of her mouth, before she'even had a chance to process the thought.

"I do." He insists. "You're his oldest, you were the first one he loved."

"Did he tell you that?" She snorts, derisive and on edge.

Jarringly, he doesn't hesitate like she thinks he should. "Yes. He's told me a lot about you."

"..." She stops short, pursing her lips for a moment.

"... He's more sorry than he'll ever admit to you. He's not good with his words, but he wishes he made more of an effort. You deserved it. He'll never run out of things to apologize for to you. He just... doesn't know how to make it right." It's word vomit, desperate and nonsensical. Greta can hardly recognize it as a language she speaks.

Slade? Sorry? As if. She says as much, and the Terminator just sighs.

It's quiet for a while.

"He used to tell me stories about you." She says eventually. Deathstroke perks up, and she almost wants to giggle over how puppy like the gesture is. "I- I didn't know you actually existed, I just thought you were a hero he made up. I thought...that was what he wanted me to be. Like you. Like him. Like a man. " She runs a hand through her messy curls, undoubtedly making the tangles worse. "I tried," her voice breaks embarrassingly, "I was never the son he wanted. I don't want to be his son anymore. Never took him as much of a girl dad though." She sniffles, suddenly glad for the smudge proof mascara she splurged on last week.

Deathstroke looks...lost, hands hovering like he wants to help but isn't sure how. Now ain't that fucked up? She's so pitiful the contract killer thinks she needs help.

Maybe she should start therapy.

"He's an idiot. The biggest fucking moron that's ever lived, and he never deserved you." It's scornful, far too malicious for someone talking about the man who's paying him.

"Careful, he might take that out of your paycheck." She snorts.

He doesn't dignify that with a response. "His number is still the same, if you ever decide to give him another chance. Not that he deserves one." He adds. "But... I think he's more amenable to having a daughter than you might expect."

Greta shifts uncomfortably, tries to subtly wipe her nose and knows she failed miserably When he hands her a tissue, not that she has a clue where he might have gotten it. "I'll keep that in mind." It's not like she hasn't thought about calling before. Or just showing up at their doorstep and seeing how they react. Or sending them a post card or a magnet or something when she travels. Joey would like that, she thinks.

"Weird question but do you like, keep an eye on my brother too...?" She asks him out of the blue.

"Naturally." He admits easily.

"Is he safe?"

"As he can be."

"...is he happy?"

"..."

Greta braces herself against the counter with a wary sigh. "He's mad at me, isn't he?" She wouldn't blame him.

"Why would he be mad at you? He adores you." D assures her.

She shakes her head. "I left him there. I left him there with Slade knowing that if I'm not there he's got no one else to smack around. I left him there with both of them and their dumpster fire relationship. In that awful fuckin house with the nosey neighbors and their vicious kids."

She grips her hair to steady herself.

D is tense across from her, so still Greta bets he isn't even blinking. "He would never hit Joey."

"Course not, just me, right? Poor stupid Grant, never smart enough or strong enough or stoic enough or happy enough. Never fucking good enough." She wants to break something, wants to curl up and cry somewhere. She's starkly aware that she's at work right now.

"...You are so much better than anything he could have made you." He says softly.

She stares vacantly at the counter between them. "I don't think I would have survived what he wanted me to be. I think I would have killed myself trying to be like him and I don't think it would even matter. Sometimes I wonder if he wishes I had, and then he wouldn't have to deal with how ashamed he is of me."

Her fingers dig into her arms hard enough to bruise and the metal counter creaks when Deathstroke mimics the motion, leaving indents of his fingers.

"He never wanted you dead. He loves you so much it hurts to think about." He insists and Greta can't imagine why he's even bothering.

"Good thing I'm not around anymore then, out of sight and out of mind. He can go back to pretending he only has one kid without my constant vexing presence." She drawls bitterly.

D just sighs and it sounds so very tired. "...I'm not here to convince you to go back-"

"Could've fooled me." She sniffles.

"-just think about it." He pleads with her.

She doesn't manage more than a nod before she abruptly decides that this is enough vulnerability for the night, and maybe the rest of her life. Her eyes ache, her face is blotchy and red, her dollar store eyeliner is probably smeared beyond being salvaged. She kicks him out and spends the next fifteen minutes in the bathroom trying to make herself look a little more the strong independent adult she's been trying to become.

The house looks the same as it did the night she ran away. There's a noticeable absence of Joey's toys in the yard that makes her chest ache, the yellow paint is starting to chip, the garden looks too wild and ecologically diverse to be HOA approved.

Things must have gotten bad after she left, for mom to let it get like this.

With a lump in her throat, she approaches the door. It's the most notable difference, the same shade of white as the old one, but it's thicker, the lock so advanced as to be out of place in the gated neighborhood, and there's no windows - just an almost hidden security camera staring at her imposingly.

Her fingers barely brush the doorbell before the door is being flung open.

Greta freezes. There's a girl. 13 or 14, brown skin and eyes. And white hair. Distantly she's aware of shouting in the background, slowly getting closer.

She walks away. She registers the shouts of her name at about the same time she slams the door shut. She floors it, tires squealing on asphalt and probably leaving nasty tracks for Susan to gawk at.

A lot of things have changed since she left, saw wad prepared for that. She's changed to. She's got a science degree. She's legally cha get her name. She's been on HrT for almost 4 years.

Joey's mute. Mom lives in New York.

And Slade has a daughter. A daughter who looks nothing like mom. A daughter too old to have happened after the divorce.

Fuck him. Fuck them both. How could he- why would he- it doesn't- she can't-

Her phone is ringing, despite the fact she put it on DND. She knows who it is without looking, and she just barely refrains herself from launching the damn thing out the window. She'll do it once she gets on the highway, so D can't try to bring it back to her like a cat with a dead mouse.

Passing the Welcome sign feels the same way it did when she was 16 and too stupid to know what she was doing. Like she's lost. Like an ending. Like missed calls and lonely nights and nightmares with no one to put her back to bed.

At least she has a car this time.

[egoschwank]

al things considered — when i post my masterpiece #1311

first posted in facebook may 15, 2024

arnold böcklin -- "isle of the dead iii" (1883)

"don't be in a rush you know the way there just right ain't no rush for us we can all take our time there won't be no boatman, no boat ain't no cliff to climb it's alrighty alright you'll get there someday just fine" … rykarda parasol

"nothing in art is created without effort, and the painter’s ideas don’t come to him on wings while he dreams, either. the one may be more talented than the other, of course; but without untiring diligence, single-mindedness and a combative spirit, there can’t be any good result. all this talk about 'inspiration' is nonsense" … arnold böcklin

"so if you don't mind traveling alone - it's a mighty nice place to go some of our friends liked it ever so and they ain't come back home" … rykarda parasol

"i'll take a one-way ticket on the next boat headed there please" … al janik

one-way ticket