#this sucks but I needed to get it out of my system

[soup0ftheseus]

I want to add that I have a few friends in wheelchairs, and one of them is high support needs. A friend of mine was dating him and was trying to help him get out to where she was living (he grew up there but lived in another state) and didn't understand why he couldn't travel. Although I am not a wheelchair user, I am disabled and familiar with how difficult travel is.

She is my best friend (and a wonderful, incredible human, who will always try to find a way when something isn't working) and kept being like "but what about this" and I kept explaining why it won't work. I walked her through why he can't get a on a plane. One, he needed regular catheter changes (which is another piece of things, the cost of regularly having to replace an item that gets used frequently). There is no way he was gonna be able to do that. Two, airlines break chairs regularly. He could not afford the cost of a new chair if it was replaced. Three, it's invasive and it hurts. Air travel is bad for most of us, particularly if you're disabled. He was likely going to face invasive security measures. Many wheelchair users have had their body inappropriately groped by security, in addition to random people "helping" by moving you etc. I'm a non wheelchair user, but when I fly I use wheelchair assistance. At one point, sitting in the airport wheelchair, I was anxious and struggling to get my sweater out from under me and back onto my body. A woman CAME OVER AND GRABBED THE SWEATER AND TRIED TO PUT IT ON ME. I was angry and horrified. If necessary though, I could have grabbed my cane and hopped up. He is a paraplegic. He has no control over that. Which is another factor. Someone would have had to move him from his seat to a chair. That's often a vulnerable and embarrassing experience when done by strangers. And to top it off, air travel hurts. For those of us with chronic pain/illness, air travel can be one of the most painful experiences we have to deal with. I often need a few days to fully recover from a flight.

She completely understood after I explained this stuff (and ultimately drove out to him) but she was just like "how is it possible a whole demographic of people can't travel because it's inaccessible??" Because they hate us lol. This whole system hates us.

And my "low support needs" friend? Still needs their partner to be a full time carer. Still can't reach the laundry. Still can't always get places even if disabled parking spots are available. Like literally every single piece of daily life has numerous obstacles that walking folks don't think about that create huge challenges for wheelchair users.

It sucks. It fucking sucks.

people way underestimate the needs of wheelchair users.

there's a lot of what I'll call walkism (bias towards pedestrians and against wheelchair users) among disabled pedestrians (people who primarily walk, assisted or not, as their means of mobility)

diminishing our needs is walkism.

people within the community see us as ableds minus legs. they see our disabilities as simple- just can't walk, it's that easy. they see us as having low accommodation needs and as having the accommodations that we do need met. they see our access barriers as being as simple as ramps and curb cuts.

we are frequently compared to low support needs (LSN) non-physically disabled people by ablebodied disabled people and physically disabled people alike. we are compared to people who walk through life (literally) with little to no support, who make it through school with minimal accommodations, who have access to the whole world.

people are so incredibly out of touch with what wheelchair use actually looks like. people don't personally know wheelchair users, often don't even follow them on social media. people assume they can understand our entire lives by looking at our wheels and imagining. that doesn't work.

this belief that our disabilities are simple especially goes for paraplegic wheelchair users who are so often used as the "closest to abled" examples. they don't consider how many paraplegic wheelchair users experience things like spasms, chronic pain, bladder spasms specifically, both urinary and fecal incontinence, among much else that I'm sure I'm not aware of as I am not paraplegic. they especially don't consider that fact that wheelchair use is absolutely not close to abled.

they don't consider the extent of needs that full time and near full time wheelchair users experience. have you ever had to wait in the grocery store parking lot for 30+ minutes so an accessible spot with an access aisle could open up? how deep is the washing machine in your apartment? how large is the room it's in? is your sink too tall? what about the cabinets? how high is your bed? how low is your dining table? how easy would it be to fit a wheelchair in your car? how reliable is your bus? how reliable are the people on it to not put their groceries in the wheelchair spot? does your workplace have a ramp?

when people become wheelchair users they often have to uproot their entire lives to rebuild in a way that allows them to access things as vital as their home and workplace. when people already are wheelchair users they experience shortages of everything- jobs with accessible buildings, apartments they can get into and use, cars they can put their wheelchairs in easily.

this isn't even getting into things like access to businesses and other locations wheelchair users may want to go.

wheelchair users always have significant disabilities. yes, always. yes, even that disability you think is mild. people don't end up as wheelchair users because they have mild chronic pain or lose balance occasionally. people end up as wheelchair users because they have significant mobility disabilities. significant mobility disabilities rarely act alone. I cannot name a wheelchair user who only experiences mobility disability. everything, yes, everything comes with other effects.

while I've spent a lot of time talking about the comparatively low support needs wheelchair users there are high support needs wheelchair users as well. people only look at those of us who have ability to do all or most ADLs with our wheelchairs, this is not the case for every wheelchair user. there are wheelchair users who use group 3 powerchairs. there are wheelchair users who transfer via hoist. there are wheelchair users who need to control their wheelchair with their breath. there are wheelchair users who can't move their wheelchair independently at all and rely on someone else to push them. there are wheelchair users whose disabilities cause significant disability in areas other than mobility meaning they have feeding tubes, ostomies, suprapubic catheters, and ventilators. these presentations of disability are not even uncommon.

true high support needs wheelchair users are so often erased from every conversation (including conversations among wheelchair users) but I have not once seen a pedestrian mention quadriplegia & tetraplegia or muscular dystrophy or spinal muscular atrophy or any other number of conditions that leave someone needing both a wheelchair and very high support. I never see mentions of intellectually disabled people who use wheelchairs for conditions connected to their intellectual disability and I never see mentions of conditions like sanfilippo syndrome.

ultimately though, wheelchair users are just not a monolith. I will stand by the fact that, while some wheelchair users may have low support needs compared to other wheelchair users and high support needs neurodevelopmentally disabled people, none of our support needs are so low that they are at all comparable to those of low support needs non-physically disabled people. it's erasure of our disability to suggest there is no difference in support required between a low support needs autistic person and a wheelchair user on the low support needs end of the wheelchair support needs spectrum.

it is especially erasure to collapse all wheelchair users down to the lowest level of support needs a wheelchair user can have. it pretends that our higher support needs siblings don't exist.

the community does not understand us or our struggles. it won't understand us or our struggles until we are included, until people stop seeing us as the most privileged part of the community and until people stop minimizing our struggles. walkism is the reason wheelchair users have built our own communities separate from the rest of the disabled community. it is made clear time and time again that we are not welcome and we will not be understood.

A note: by wheelchair user I am specifically referring to people who use a wheelchair on a regular basis for day-to-day tasks. for the sake of this post I am not including people who only use wheelchairs at the mall/Disney/theme parks/other long distances.

[all dividers are described in alt text]

[stoic--rose]

over the last two weeks or so ive played through earthbound two and a half times, and mother 1 three times. replaying both back to back repeatedly has made me realize a lot of things

1.) mother 1 is a LOT more open in what it lets you do, where it lets you go, and when. once you open up the train tracks, you're free to go do the rest of the game in pretty much any order you want. hell, you can make it all the way to R7038xx without ever getting a single melody, which i find to be pretty interesting. not only that, but you dont even need to get most of the party members. strictly speaking, the only one you truly need to get is Loid, and that's just to get rid of the rock on the train tracks. and even then, with the use of an exploit i found out about only a few days ago, you can get rid of him and go fight giygas by yourself, which is pretty funny.

2.) mother 1+2 is like, wicked impressive. nevermind the fact that they crammed earthbound onto the gba, they also packaged it with mother 1 as well, and they're both the full games. it ain't no rayman advance kinda deal either where it's a super botched port, like it's a perfectly valid way to play both games, and some people even prefer the gba version of mother 1 since it makes a couple of quality of life improvements. not to mention, they rebuilt both games from the ground up, it's not like they could emulate snes on gba. (i mean, you can emulate NES apparently, since there's that nes classic line of games for the gba, but... this is cooler.) the sound department could... definitely use some work, and the colors look pretty washed out, but there are patches to fix the colors, and if you're playing the game on a real gameboy, i think the sound is the last thing you'd be concerned about. also, apparently some people took the time to apply the earthbound script to the mother 2 half of mother 1+2, and even reprogrammed the text system to have the original fonts and make it non-monospace, which is SUPER impressive. for my second playthrough of earthbound i played it with the new fantran patch, and it's pretty damn slick.

3.) man, fuck the sword of kings. i realized very recently that i'd never fully committed to the sword of kings grind, and decided that this would finally be the time i claim my birth right as a mother fan and do it. and like, it SUCKS. i mean, to begin, yes it's annoying that it's a 1/128 chance, but it goes deeper than that. the fact that it's only dropped by an enemy that you can potentially never see again, and it's the ONLY item poo can equip as a weapon is pretty fucked up. not to mention, the other enemies that they put in the starman base just absolutely suck, i hate the nuclear power robots so much. they made the grind WAY more painful than it already would have been otherwise. at the very least, i find it to be very gracious that jeff's spy command has the secondary effect of letting you steal whatever item an enemy would have dropped mid battle, just so it doesn't get overwritten by another enemy drop, which by the way YES that can happen, and YES i had it happen to me. it sucks ass. and the worst part is, the sword of kings isn't even that good!! and neither is poo on a gameplay level! you get the guy way later than any other party member, he has all these little catches like not being able to eat american food or equip anything but the kingly items, he gets taken away from you almost immediately after you get him, he just feels really weird. starstorm is pretty cool, but you only get the omega version right before the final area, and you can only use it on the handful of encounters you get there since you can't really use it in the final boss. (i mean technically you can use it in the first phase, if you want to get a biblical reflected beatdown when it hits both pokey and giygas) idk, the guy just isn't all that useful, and it's unfortunate since i really like him on a design level.

i have more words i want to say but honestly i might save them for an entry on my website instead since im very close to the tumblr word limit rn

[gretagator]

"This condition... To me, it's as real as that chair. It's as real as this house. It's as real as you. But what if it's not? What if it's all in my head? And if that's true, if it's not real... Then what have I done?"

[heartorbit]

MWAH!

[virtueofsanityx]

reggie has never liked dmitri's pretty boys, but he had never once in the time he's known the man expected to be one of them. he knows it's all jealousy, knows that it's a sick, twisted possession of the man that he hasn't earned and doesn't deserve, but he's always been harsh and judgemental to them, the way they tossed themselves at dmitri, fluttered and preened and basked in the attention the man offered while shamelessly soaking up the bread crumbs of affection afforded to them for the moments they stayed in his life.

of course, they had just been moments. reggie has something on all of those pretty boys, and that's the fact that he's still here. somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach, there's a fear, the fear that giving in to this primal desire, that offering himself up to dmitri like this is simply asking to be tossed aside and discarded like the rest of them, but their friendship is far stronger than that, their relationship is built on a mutual trust and understanding, and even knowing that this night is going to wreck him, going to wreck other men for him, going to shatter his chances at finding someone who can even come close to dmitri, he's going to let it happen.

maybe it's the best way to get it out of his system, maybe the best way to unwind and relax, to not feel like there's always something unspoken between the two of them.

reggie isn't stupid. he has no illusions of this becoming something more. dmitri doesn't do more. reggie isn't going to push it, even if this is the best sex of his life (and knowing his friend, it very well might be). he does whine, a soft noise as his eyes laser focus on the hand curling around the impressive cock in front of him, his tongue darting out, desperate to taste. he can feel the saliva pooling there, a sort of raw desperation to show dmitri just how good he is at sucking cock, how well he's honed the skill, to impress the man. maybe dmitri will wreck other men for reggie, but reggie wants the chance to at least try to do the same.

before he can even think to ask, however, dmitri is moving, the kiss on his thigh sending a jolt up his body, his poor weeping cock jumping against his stomach, desperate for contact. it's a powerful jolt and a small relief when that heavy length finally makes contact with his own, and reggie's head falls backwards against the furs behind him, eyes closing as a wanton, downright slutty moan comes out of him. his hands find skin, strong muscles stretched tense over shoulders, and dig in, hips rolling up to match the slow and steady rhythm that dmitri seems so content with keeping.

god, he wants more. he wants dmitri to fuck him into this mattress, to make an absolute mess of him. he wants to open his mouth wide and take him down his throat, he wants to get on his hands and knees and present himself to the man over him like a piece of meat to do with as he will. "oh." the breathy sound falls out of him as he surges up to find skin, any skin, to kiss, to bite, to suck. the skin on dmitri's shoulder, his collarbone, his neck. he tastes the salty sweat there and the hands on his shoulders pull, trying to drag him closer.

"i need-- need you inside me." his voice is a desperate plea, begging just over a whisper. he's falling completely over to the pleasure and the desire, giving no thought to anything related to ego or pride. even if he had the brain power to access them, he knows, deep down, he would still be begging for dmitri. he's wanted this for so long, it already feels like a fever dream that it's happening at all. he wants to take advantage of every moment they have. "want to show you how good i can take you. clean you up with my mouth after you're done. i want you to do whatever you want to me, dmitri, please."

The elegant cabin bedroom seemed to hum with tension, the dim flicker of candlelight casting restless shadows over rich mahogany and leather. Outside, the winter raged, but in here------ here, it was molten. Dmitri should've anticipated that sneaky, delicious "sir" curling off Reggie's bitten lips, honeyed and provocative, a weapon aimed too perfectly. A sign, maybe, that Reggie was far too adept at reading him, at understanding all the ways to getting underneath his skin. But no amount of knowing could have prepared him for the jolt it sent tearing through his gut, low and devastating, like heat crashing over unrelenting steel. Something primitive coiled deep inside him, searing, urgent. His breath staggered a little, the sensation ripping through the taut ridges of his abdomen, deep grooves betraying all that tension smoldering beneath his skin. The pleasure, the need, twisted sharp and fevered. He liked that. Hell, he really fucking liked that. Too much. The vanilla candles trembled slightly as he lit them, their faint scent curling into the heady air. He worked with a measured calm that felt like a lie, like the pulse in his throat wasn’t racing, like his skin wasn’t burning up from within, every inch of him fever-hot, his blood pounding in his veins. Yes, sir. What the fuck gave Reggie the right to sound so sensual? So devastatingly, achingly perfect? Dmitri exhaled slowly, steadying the tremor coiled tight inside. His tongue swept over his lower lip, deliberate, tasting the heat sitting in the air as he set the lighter down. A soft glow painted Reggie in gold, and he saw everything. Every inch. Every invitation.

And so, Dmitri closed the distance, leisurely shedding the last remnants of his clothing, until only the shimmering jewelry at his neck remained----- beautiful, expensive, and gleaming against the flawless brown canvas of his skin. Like a demigod adorned with an exquisite offering, he stood at the end of the bed, gaze fixed on Reggie’s breathtaking presentation, a sight that could bring any red-blooded man to his knees. But Dmitri was all about the slow admiration of his prize, hungered gaze roaming up and down Reggie's opened legs that spread all too devotedly for him. So delicate and exposed across the furs as he waited for Dmitri to come and claim what was his for the night, that pretty cock between Reggie's thighs erect and weeping soft, slight pearls of cum. Well, that was something that they both had in common----- because Dmitri's cock was pulsating for contact, or for something tight and needy to fuck, and he wasn't about to restrain himself, reaching right down to the intimidating length and giving his thick shaft a few quick pumps with his fist. Just to take off that slight edge, and perhaps, put a tease right out in front of Reggie's rounded, desperately glazed over eyes, as a few drops of pre-cum dribbled from the swollen purple head of Dmitri's cock. They both knew that Reggie wanted all of that cock, and well, Dmitri wanted to see him wanting it, shamelessly.

"You gonna start whining, Reg?" A rough chuckle escaped Dmitri’s baritone when he dropped to one knee on the bed, slowly leaning over Reggie. He paused just long enough to press his lips to the sensitive skin of Reggie’s inner thigh, just above the bend of his knee. His voice was sweetly teasing, reminiscent of the playful moments they shared as just friends, though he’d promised himself to lock away that part of him, his heart. This wasn’t about making love. No, this was about purging something from both of their systems, something that had become a problem for them. Obviously. Dmitri’s gaze went on slowly tracing the length of Reggie’s body, lingering on that tight, flattened tummy, watching his chest flutter with each breath. His eyes finally settled on the flushed, swollen curve of Reggie’s bitten bottom lip. God, he was gorgeous. Dmitri’s big hands quickly latched onto Reggie’s hips, dragging him entirely beneath the force of his body, so that finally the curve of Reggie's pretty cock rubbed underneath his own, hot hard contact that elicited an immediate grunt out of him.

"S'okay. You can whine for it. Love to hear my pretty boy need my cock, you just can't help yourself."

He’s playing a mean game, though not as mean as he’s capable of, and secretly, it’s draining every ounce of his self-control, pushing his limits in ways nothing else ever could. Reggie tests him like no one else----- his every move, every silken word of pure desire a challenge to Dmitri’s resolve. But Dmitri thinks he masks it well, all while desperately hoping he’s never too vulnerable, never too obvious in his longing. Every moment is a tightrope, teetering on the edge of something dangerous. But he keeps going, athletic hips dragging languidly, back and forth, stroking his big veiny cock right up against Reggie's, hovering his rippling powerful body in such a way that he can look down Reggie's front and watch them frot against each other. Dmitri's slick pre dripping down on Reggie's engorged head, Reggie's pre dropping a mess on his stomach. Both of them tensed up, a sheen of sweat glistening on Dmitri’s shifting muscles as his hands sank into the black silk sheets, gripping them tightly for balance. "Fuck," he rasps, panting through the excitable fluttering of his racing heart in his chest. "That's it.... fuck, Reggie, baby..."

[erinwantstowrite]

hey erin are you writing rn?

I am in my backyard playing my guitar except I forgot that it's really fucking cold outside and I'm pretty sure I hear a possum somewhere but I'm kind of ignoring it because I mean what the fuck is the possum going to do. unless it's the raccoon that's been harassing my family for the past like 2 years then maybe I should be worried but it's probably fine

[heyclickadee]

I think Tech would think purrgil are neat.

(He’s in there, he’s just really tiny. He came back, got a new ship, and painted it to match Phee’s.)

(I think purrgil are neat, at least.)

[heretoobsessstuff]

Here’s a whumpy drabble i wrote last night instead of studying for my derm exam lol

*

John paced the small confines of the tower, his heart pounding as he waited. The young lieutenant beside him watched nervously, eyes wide, as if he feared John would snap at any moment. He had to give it to the kid. He felt it too—a simmering anxiety that threatened to boil over if he didn’t see Gale’s B-17 soaring through the sky any minute now.

He lifted the binoculars again, scanning the horizon. When he finally spotted a fortress trailing smoke, hope flared momentarily before dread took hold. The fort was beat to shit, almost looked like it was staggering. It was going to be a bitch to land. But also Please be Gale, please be Gale, please be Gale.

“Incoming!” he yelled, the urgency in his voice echoing off the tower walls. Below, chaos erupted as an ambulance sped closer to the runway.

“It’s my baby!” someone shouted from the ground, and John felt his stomach knot tighter, frustration mixing with fear. He turned to the lieutenant, voice taut. “Show ’em green.”

He fucking hated this part of the job—being stuck up here, powerless to do anything else, anything that was actually useful. He couldn’t even go down to meet Gale on the runway, to ensure he was okay with his own eyes. Instead, he had to count the forts and prepare forms for interrogation. This was exactly why he despised being an air exec.

“Hey kid,” he said to the lieutenant, trying to maintain some semblance of calm, “go check on Major Cleven and come back and let me know, alright?”

The young man nodded, eager to please, and dashed inside. John let out a heavy sigh, eyes glued to the sky as he monitored for more incoming planes.

It felt like an eternity before the lieutenant returned, breathless and wide-eyed. “Sir, Major Cleven was mostly okay. He’s in interrogation now.”

“The hell does mostly okay mean? Is he hurt?” He snapped, heart sinking .

“Not majorly, sir, but he—”

“Bucky”

Crosby called behind him, swallowing hard before he spoke.

“Gale is going batshit crazy not letting the nurses touch him. We got him to the infirmary but he won’t let them stitch him up. Can you come talk to him? I think he’s pretty shaken up”

John was speeding past Croz before he was even done talking. He didn’t remember how managed to go from the tower to the infirmary so fucking fast but he could hear Gale yelling as he walked in. The sound pierced through the tension in his chest, and he pushed the door open to find Gale pacing, hands tugging at his flight suit, face flushed with frustration. Blood caked the side of his face, dripping down to his neck and John felt cold, his hands shaking as he moved closer to get a better look at him.

“Buck” John called tentatively, trying to sound as gentle as possible. “What’s going on?”

Gale’s eyes turned to him and for a brief second it looked like he was relieved to see John. But desperation took over his features immediately, voice sounding too loud in the small cot as he addressed him.

“I’m fine, John. I don’t need their damn help!” Gale snapped, his eyes wild. John felt a rush of concern; this wasn’t Gale. Gale was calm, polite, never snapped at anyone. He was always collected, unflappable. This Gale was unsettling. John felt his heart break as he watched him shake with fury. The nurses hovering nearby exchanged worried glances.

“Your forehead needs at least 10 stitches, Major. You likely have a concussion,” one of them said gently.

“I said I’m fucking fine,” Gale snapped, his frustration palpable. “John, please. Tell them I’m fine. I don’t need this. I need to—”

“Can you give us a minute, please?” John interrupted, turning to the nurses. They sighed, sympathetic, and stepped away, drawing the curtain closed behind them.

“Sit down,” John urged, putting a hand around Gale’s arm and guiding him to a nearby bed. “You’re not fine. You’re hurt.”

“I don’t want to sit—I need to get this fucking thing off me,” Gale said, agitation creeping into his voice as he shook John’s hand off himself and tugged at his flight vest but his hands trembled too much for him to be able to actually take it off. His movements were jerky and uncoordinated. John had never seen him like this, raw and unraveling.

“Here. Let me help you.” John’s voice softened, moving over to him slowly and maintaining eye contact as reached towards him. “Just taking this off, Buck. Stay still” Gale let him take over, his breaths came out harsh and panicked, eyes wide as he started at John working to unclasp the buckles. John tried to be as gentle as he could as he unbuckled the vest and let it drop to the ground.

“There you go, now lets just sit down for a second”

“No” Gale shook his head, his voice cracking, pushing to move past John.

“I can’t—I can’t just sit here. I need to go—I need to-.” He cut himself off with a gasp, breathing shallow as his body shook all over. John stepped forward, reaching out to grab Gale’s shoulders.

“Look at me. Focus on me, okay? You’re panicking. You need to breathe, Gale”

Gale blinked, momentarily stunned by John’s intensity. “I… I can’t.”

“You can,” John insisted, trying to keep his voice steady. “You can. In and out. Here”

He soothed, grabbing Gale’s hand and laying it on his own chest, trying to keep the shake out of his own voice as he took a deep breath.

“Deep breathes like me. C’mon darling”

He let the endearment slip, not giving a damn if anyone heard it. It seemed to do the trick, Gale’s breath hitched and he closed his eyes and kept his palm pressed to John’s chest, trying to pull air into his lungs.

“There you go. You’re alright”

John encouraged, voice soft as he guided Gale to a bed when he felt his knees weakening and pushed him down gently. He watched him closely as he sank down, shoulders sagging under the weight of his exhaustion as he continued to take choking breaths. John rubbed his back, up and down his arm soothingly, trying to avoid his injured head as he pushed his hair out out of his eyes and sat beside him on the bed.

Gale watched him lazily as he reached for his face, fingers grazing his jaw as he tilted his head slightly to reveal a deep gash on his head, blood seeping through the strands of blond hair. He felt a lump raising in his throat at the sight.

“Was it flak?”

Gale closed his eyes again, taking a few shuddering breaths as he shrugged.

“Don’t remember. It’s all a blur”

John hummed, lifting Gale’s hand to press a gentle kiss to his knuckles.

“You need to let them take care of you, Gale”

“I’m fine, John”

“Need to let them patch you up first and then you will be”

“I can’t—I need to” Gale started to protest weakly again so John interrupted him.

“There’s nothing you need to be doing now other than resting and letting them fix you up. You can’t do anyone any good if you’re not okay.”

Gale swallowed thickly, eyes glassy with unshed tears as he shook his head.

“I lost so many men, John. So many forts. I let them down.” His voice shook, a lone tear escaping and travelling down his cheek.

“You didn’t let anyone down, Gale. You flew that piece of crap all the way back to England. No one else could do it. You got your boys through it.” John reassured him, forcing eye contact.

“You did well, darling” He added quietly, just for Gale’s ears. Gale looked at him for a second longer before he let out a long sigh and leaned to the side, resting his head on John’s shoulder. John took his hand in both of his, interlocking their fingers.

“Now I need to get you through it, Gale. I need you to be okay”

Gale opened his eyes, eyes softening as turned to look at John and took in his desperate expression. The tension slowly easing from his features. “Okay” he whispered, sounding defeated as he lifted his head and sagged back against the wall, hand not leaving John’s.

“Just… stay here.”

“Of course.” John kept his grip strong, grounding him. He turned toward the curtain to call the nurses. “He’s ready for you.”

They stepped forward, not saying a word about how John kept sitting there holding Gale’s hand so hard like he was scared he was going to slip away. He watched as they worked quietly and stitched up the wound on Gale’s forehead and cleaned the area.

“See?” John said gently, helping take Gale’s sheepskin off and getting him to lay back and get comfortable as the nurses finished their work and told them Gale needed to stay overnight for monitoring. “All patched up. Good as new”

Gale’s energy seemed suddenly drained. He gave John small smile and sighed as he closed his eyes, finally allowing himself to relax. John sat beside him, watching him fall asleep, counting the raise and fall of his chest and finally allowed himself to breathe.

[violetregrets1837]

Okay so like while I still have the idea rattling loudly in my brain,

For my fellow x reader enojoyers, have we thought about meaner soulmate connections for the boys?

Like of course soulmate aus can have a variety of flavours, to sweet to spicy to oh my goodness I'm crying

BUT BUT BUT!!! I HAVE IDEAS FOR SOME MEAN SOULMATE CONNECTIONS❗️❗️❗️

Four: You can only see each other through mirrors >:)))))

It would always be a lovely little thing for the hero to see his soulmate, but after having to shatter that mirror, he wasn't sure if he could bring himself to take a single peak anymore.

Legend: You only meet each other in your dreams

I feel like this is obvious on why it's mean to Legend specifically. I love Koholint angst. What can I say?????

Wild: You gain the others injuries

Wild could easily guess the reason why he'd never be able to meet his soulmate. He was kept in the shrine of resurrection for 100 years following his death. But when he somehow gets a memory of when he finally learned about his soulmate connection, a papercut on his finger that he can't remember getting, a pit opens in his stomach as he realises. His soulmate didn't die just because of the calamity. They died because of him.

[the-way-astray]

i am not ready to get pissed off today but can we not ruin people’s positive fandom experiences. can we not. if someone makes a post saying “i love sophie foster!!!!” can we not go to that post and immediately comment “well i don’t like her”. if someone shares a headcanon and it clashes with yours can we not go to that post and reply “well that headcanon is WRONG because HERE’S WHAT CANON SAYS”. if someone talks about a ship can we not go on that post and start ripping it to shreds. can we not. you are aware that just scrolling past without engaging is an option, right? you know you can tamp down the urge to express your negative opinion where inappropriate, right? make your own damn post!!!! can we not ruin positivity posts for the people that like/made them. can we please not. please.

[gothteddiesdotcom]

can we start considering online job application systems as class warfare or

[joestarbuckss]

“ahh ikura yuutahhh~”

[gayvampyr]

i hate the idea/trope that poor kids who do well in school don’t need any support when it comes to college, or that they all get full-ride scholarships. i don’t do well in school now that i’m in uni but i was a straight-A student throughout all of middle & high school and i got 1 (one) scholarship for $500/semester, which is less than 5% of my tuition. i didn’t have the opportunities or knowledge a lot of the other wealthier kids had, whose parents and grandparents and siblings had gone to college too. like we don’t all end up getting exactly the help we need, and i know the poor kids who weren’t straight-A students had an even harder time getting into college, if they did at all. it’s rough out here for all of us. the only sure-fire way a kid could get guaranteed financial assistance was if they had knowledge of the system and the time and money to pursue them. it sucks

[fisheito]

snakes have something called a jacobson's organ that allows them to smell. they stick out their tongue, and then when it enters their mouth again, the jacobson's organ processes what they just smelled with their tongue. i say this to propose that, after yakumo licks eiden's dick for a good 10 minutes, he closes his mouth and processes it all like O_____O

when i TELL YOU that this message left me bracing the wall like

(overwhelmed with positive affect)

[wisecrackingeric-2]

I am so so sorry for very quickly venting on here I’ll keep all my rambles in the tags HFNEJDJDJ but my birthdays in exactly a week and m a n I am S O anxious about it aoaoaughhh

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

god sometimes all confidence i have in my writing just drains away 😭 if the halloween fic doesn’t turn out well i am genuinely so cooked