#unfort i do like pain

[aaaghhhhhh]

i'm really proud and pleased with what i did for golden opportunity (again, again) but it would have been a really funny alternate version if the time loop had been broken that loop but neither of them knew it. so it doesn't reset, rodney helps john get out of the ocean, and then they just have to deal with the aftermath.

[tangledinink]

... the fuck you mean you've had too many teeth broski.

OH well when I was like eight I had an extra tooth that was trying to grow upwards, like, into my nose, so they had to go in and surgically remove that one. smh. it fucked up all my other teeth somehow so then i got braces immediately after. i have really good mouth genetics actually.

[genderfluid-insomniac]

Hai!!!

I saw your Lmk Macaque x pregnant reader post!!

I was hoping for Maybe one with Wukong, but with a baby boy?

I loveeee the stuff u write :D

-Cobi

Hey! Thank you so much!! I hope you like it!

Sun Wukong x pregnant!reader

Wukong during the pregnancy:

Try to imagine how protective he is when he finds out you’re pregnant. Done? Alright, throw those expectations away because it’s even more than you think. This god has enemies and lots of them, many of which have tried to get back at him recently so it’s valid that he’s not going to leave you alone for a second.

If you have work then he’s probably going to shift into a small animal or insect so he can watch over you and protect you when necessary. A bonus is that you always have your lover nearby and someone to talk to when you’re alone, turning back into his regular form and cuddling you and his child.

He and you agreed that you wouldn’t find out the sex of your baby until it was born because you wanted it to be a surprise and both of you also heard something about a gender reveal party starting a fire in another country. Considering the track record of the gang with chaos it was a smart decision to not have a reveal party and besides he’d love his cub no matter what gender they were.

Wukong fully rebuilds his hut so it’s more spacious and baby-proofed, assuring that you or his baby wouldn’t have any issues like stairs or outlets. He first enlists the help of Sandy since he feels like it’d be helpful and the friendly river demon is always calm or steady which turns out to be a great decision.

He is of course worried about you and the symptoms that come along with the pregnancy like morning sickness, weird cravings, aches or pains, and exhaustion. Anytime you have morning sickness or pain he panics and is worried that you’re in so much danger, comforting you and worrying as you throw up and shake.

Later on, he learns that most of those are normal symptoms and what to look out for although one thing he can’t get over or not find worrying is your weird food cravings. Some of them are very strange and contain foods he doesn’t even have on the mountain which is strange considering the name of his mountain and he goes to the city to get the food you want. You will have to help with the food since he’s not exactly the best at cooking.

Anytime you’re walking or show tiredness he’ll come up behind you and either pick you up entirely or lift your belly up to relieve you of the added weight you’re forced to carry. Forget about walking later in your pregnancy or at all because carrying you lets him cuddle you and be close to his precious cub.

When the time finally comes and you feel pains in your tummy followed by your water breaking all you need to do is call Wukong into the room if he isn’t already next to you, instantly he’s rushing you to the hospital and staying right by your side. Of course, he doesn’t bother throwing on a disguise of some sort since he is more concerned with you, and anyone who bothers him about being the Monkey King is getting at least a glare.

Throughout the whole process, he is right beside you, and the doctors are all sworn to silence about who the father is during the whole ordeal aside from the legal documents. His hand is in yours and practically begging for you to squeeze his hand whenever you feel pain even with the anesthesia in you.

If anything goes wrong he paces back and forth and biting his nails, resorting to praying to any of the gods he once wronged for his child to be alright. Luckily any problems are solved quickly and you both hear a soft cry, looking over to see a ginger-furred baby cub with a mix of both your features. He has a baby boy. You both have a son.

Wukong after the pregnancy:

After your son is born Wukong is constantly doting on you and temporarily putting training with MK on hold until you’re back to health, taking shifts in caring for Qinyan which is what you both decided to name your boy after all he was heart’s sunshine. Unfortunately and unlike Macaque’s little girl his son is almost always energetic and awake, wanting attention and affection much like his father with you.

Due to this, you both work as easily as possible and he insists that he takes most of the time watching over Qinyan since he doesn’t need as much as you despite your protests. Every glance at his precious son makes him feel straight joy and vows to protect him no matter the cost.

From his enemies. From everyday demons. From people with grudges or hatred for him. From heaven itself. This also means training up his son like he did with MK except better since he does admit there was a fair amount of things he could have done better and so he enlists the help of MK who happily agrees.

When the gang meets Qinyan they all flock to him and coo over the stone cub, Mei taking many pictures and the other three men murmuring how good of a parent he was going to be which of course he took offense to. Pigsy did offer him some parenting tips which did help him when he was raising MK and thanked them all, heading back with you in his arms.

There were a couple of dangerous parts of raising his son but there would be a couple of times he would wake up to show you that Qinyan was carrying his staff but not just carrying…walking around and on occasion waking stuff around the cave.

[tomhockstetter7-111]

Highest Form of Empathy - Chapter 2

2k+ words

Logan X Empath!Reader

It's a blessing and a curse, feeling other's pain. More so when you can take it away, albeit at the expense of your own peace. One-night stands were a usual for you. That's all this was supposed to be. But, seeing someone in so much pain, you couldn't leave him like that. You just couldn't. Besides, it's not like you'd ever see him again.....

CW: N/A

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Late December, 2005

Calgary, Alberta

Waking to the sound of your alarm, you shut it down and stare at the ceiling. Your brain feels…empty. No noise, no anxieties, no urgencies? Just an ominous, heavy quiet.

'Deal with it later,' you told yourself. Well, now is later, and you don’t even know where to start.

You lay in bed, arm slung over your eyes when your second alarm breaks the deafening silence.

It’s not until you drag yourself out from under the covers and swing your legs over the edge of the bed, placing your feet on the icy floor, that you realize the weight of your body. You want to cry. But, why? Screwing your eyes shut, you spend the better part of ten minutes staring at the wood floor as you try to pull yourself together. You still see his eyes, no longer pools to get lost in, but two voids threatening to swallow you whole. All that pain wrapped in one person…you thought you could handle it.

Walking into work, you’re approached by blonde hair pulled into a stylized ponytail waving cheerfully at you. Amber. You met during lunch break on her first day of work two years ago. She seemed so excited to be here, introducing herself despite the prickly exterior you surrounded yourself in. Try as you did to push her away, her clinginess paired with her cheerful disposition making you recoil, you couldn’t find it in yourself to push her away. Soon enough, the two of you settled into a weekly routine of Friday night drinks. She often jokes that she adopted you that first day, but she was more a lost puppy following you home in the rain. And, what monster kicks the puppy? You never let her too close, though. You learned long ago about the safety of arm’s length.

She wraps you in a friendly side hug and you try not to tense under her touch. “You look like hell.”

"Thanks?" You give an awkward smile.

"Just calling it like it is." 

You shrug her off as you approach the break room.

"So, what was his name?" She asks the question in a high sing-song tone.

"Pardon?" 

She throws a smirk your way. "I'm not dumb. I know that look."

You knit your eyebrows together. What look? Your "look" was a practiced, neutral meant to keep nosy people at bay. Still, you decide to entertain her. "Actually, I don't know." You watch in amusement as her expression turns into one of frustration.

"You need to stop doing that. It's not healthy, you know."

"Why?" You grab your water from the fridge and shut the door a little too firmly. “I’m still young. Let me have fun.”

"You know that's not what I meant. Drinking and sleeping your sorrows away after every hard day. It's gonna affect your work. Not to mention put you in an early grave." 

You brushed off her comments with an eye roll. What did she know? What did anyone know, really? They didn't have to work so hard to block out others' emotions and they certainly didn't know what it was like needing to hide what you are all the time.

"Amber, I've told you time and time again." You put a hand on her shoulder in reassurance. "I'll be fine."

She shoots you an incredulous look. “I’m allowed to worry.”

“I’m not a patient, Amber,” you say as you head towards the door. “Besides, I’ve lasted this long.”

“Not sustainable. If I let my child die, it ruins my track record.”

“Your child’s a grown ass adult. She’ll be fine.” You make your way down the hall leaving no more room for argument. 

~~

Sitting in your office you drum a pen on your desk and stare at the wall. A patient canceled, so, now, you have an hour and fifteen to kill. Unfortunately, you've already lost half of it staring at the wall. 

Your power had a cool down rate, kind of like a video game power up. Depending on emotional intensity and the amount you absorb, it could take between two to twenty-four hours for your brain to return to baseline. Still, you would feel the severeness lessen over time. But, for whatever reason, this round is taking its sweet damn time. It didn’t help that you spent so much of your time wondering what would have caused those feelings. Was he a veteran? Abused, maybe? Shit, maybe his mom or spouse had just fucking died or something.

"The fuck did I get myself into?" You mumble to the air. 

Emotional trade-offs are something you avoid for this exact reason. It’s self destructive, ego stroking, and, frankly, not your fucking job. Therapists are meant to help work through emotions and find avenues for healing, not give a quick fix that disappears after a few days. As tempting as it was to just take away a client's despair during a spiral, it would do more harm than good in the long run. 

On top of that, it just wouldn’t do well to expose yourself like that. You could see the headlines now. "Mutant Therapist Uses Mind Control Powers to Gain Access to Classified Government Files" or “Rogue Mutant Turns Canadian Leader to Human Puppet - Wants Full Control” or some shit. 

Then again, who knows? Maybe they would raise your pay grade if they knew just how valuable an asset you were. You'd always been told you were so easy to talk to, always sitting there quietly as people spilled their woes. Maybe it was a passive effect of your power? You never bothered to look further. It certainly made it easier to empathize with others, though. You could think of a few clients that could benefit looking through someone else’s eyes.

The ring of your office's landline snaps you away from your thoughts. You rush to pick it up. You greet the voice on the other line with your best customer service voice stating both the company's name and that they’ve reached your office.

"Brilliant! I’ve been looking to reach you. How are you today?" He asks.

You blink slowly. "Doing fine. How about yourself?" Isn't it your job to ask how others are?

"Lovely, my dear, thank you. My name is Charles Xavier. I run a school in New York state for gifted children. We're looking to hire a general health teacher and counselor for the students."

"Oh, um...my apologies, sir. But, I'm not trained to work with minors." And, you aren’t. You specifically work with adults because the emotional regulation is so much better than with teenagers. Usually, anyway. Not to mention you know how abysmal teacher pay was.

"I assure you, that won't be a problem. Those attending the school are very well behaved. Furthermore, they really could use someone to talk to that understands their struggle."

"Sorry. I'm not sure I understand. Why is that me specifically?" There was a short silence on the other line. "Hello?"

"I know what you are."

Your heart dropped, hands running cold. "Sorry, I don’t know what you mean.”

"No, I think you do. Trust, everyone here is much like you, myself included. I’m merely calling to make an offer. You work with us, help the students, and I can help you to refine your abilities. You have more than you're using." It’s an appealing offer. But, you’re skeptical. The last thing you need is to move back home, or worse, run and avoid any sort of danger. Just because the world seems to be opening up to mutants doesn't mean it is. Plenty of the public are still very much afraid. You know that much by proxy of your job.

You sigh. "How do I know I can trust you? I've built a life for myself here, and I've worked very hard to keep myself safe. I won't leave it behind just to walk into a fire."

"I assure you, you won't.” His voice is calm from the other end and seems genuinely sincere. “I don't expect an answer now. But, if you change your mind, I’m happy to give you my number."

There’s a long pause as you digest his words. "When you say 'gifted children’, do you mean..." you trail off, not trusting your voice.

"I run a school where children and staff with mutations can thrive in a place they feel accepted. We teach the students valid skills like science and literature along with scenario simulations to refine their powers. But…” He hesitates, “these children are still human. Thus, they have the minds of such and require proper guidance."

"How do you even know who I am?" You snap.

"I have several connections around the world. I’ve used them many times to reach out to those who could benefit from our space. That said, I can assure you I mean you no harm. You may reject the offer if you like, and you shan't hear from me again. I only wish to offer an opportunity."

You stare out the window as he talks. Maybe this could be good for you. Having cut off contact with your mother, and with no one to leave behind, except Amber, — you can’t decide if that’s good or bad — what do you have to lose?  "You said there was a number I could call back?"

~~

Friday came and went. You and Amber hit up the bar, the same one from Wednesday, but you spent it mostly in a daze, listening to Amber drone on about clients and work drama while you stirred your drink. A part of you couldn't help but wish the stranger would come back and find you again. Something about him kept you in a chokehold, and it was starting to piss you off. It made everything else seem dull by comparison. You counted two men, both decent enough, who approached you, trying to flirt and offer a good time. But, you could still feel his glare burn into your back, still feel his muscles under your nails, still feel his distress. You just couldn't be bothered. They didn't interest you. Nothing interested you. Not with this pit in your stomach.

"Ok, what happened?" Amber demands the following Monday, having had enough of dull hums every conversation. "You've been off since last week. Don’t tell me it’s that guy."

"Just got a lot on my mind." You deadpan. You sit in the breakroom picking at your salad, cold coffee next to you. You look up at her and can tell she’s not convinced. “I’m fine.”

"I think I liked you better when you were fucking everything that moved." She mutters as she disappears out the door.

"Rude!" You call down the hall before your gaze drifts to the TV, sound lowered. It's tuned to a news channel that seems to be covering a story titled "Cure for Mutation in the Works". Your face contorts in confusion. Yes, you had figured there were people out there who might not want their powers. All those trips to doctors as a child haunted you, constantly sent to be someone else’s problem and treated like you were paranoid or troubled, regardless of the fact you were completely right. They never believed you when you tried telling them about your abilities. They certainly never understood you. No one did. And, how could they? You always wished you could see someone just like you. It’s what led you to pursue psych work in the first place because wouldn't someone with a window into the person's mind be the perfect doctor? It became a blessing. But, the way they talked on the segment sounded as if a cure was a necessity to life. What if someone threw away their talents before they knew how special they really were?

Your mind drifts off to those kids at the school. What had they been through? Do they see their powers as curses, too? Could that change? Moreover, what of the mutants from back in 2000? You vaguely remembered hearing your classmates talk about it back in university. Some guy called Magnetism or something. What had he been through? You couldn’t remember exactly what he had done, or tried to do, all of it a distant memory. But, your roommate told you it would’ve killed a lot of people. It made you shudder. What could motivate something like that? Maybe it could’ve been stopped, nipped in the bud as a child.

With a sigh, you stand from the table and head to your office, abandoning your salad in the trash.

Upon entering, you glance down at the paper left on your desk from last week. It occurs to you. Even therapists have therapists, and you weren’t without your own traumas. Maybe this Charles Xavier, or perhaps one of his connections, could help you with that. At the very least, maybe he could understand.

You grab your personal phone from your pocket and dial the number.

~~

"I must extend my humblest apologies, but you'll be arriving during trying times. I neglected to tell you we recently lost a valued member of our staff in an accident. Tensions are still high." Charles explains.

"Oh my God. I'm so sorry," you give condolences, hoping it translates over the phone. You could understand him neglecting to tell you the first time, not knowing if you’d accept and all. But, it still sounded so heavy.

"It's quite alright, dear. We're managing as best we can. May I ask, what changed your mind?"

"Well…” You stand to look out the window, arms crossed, “After some thinking, I figured the assistance I could provide might be…important. Growing up wasn’t easy for me. I never had anyone I could talk to. Besides, I see other people’s powers and I have to wonder what their lives would be like if things were a little different. If there's any way I can help, I’d really love to."

"Oh, rest assured. There's plenty to be done here, and plenty more coming, I'm sure. If you’d feel comfortable getting to remain with your age bracket, we do have some graduates staying at the mansion that are open to therapy as well.”

“Anything I can do to help. I’ve never worked with openly mutant adults, but I’ll do my best.”

“I’m sure the understanding will be appreciated. It’s long overdue for some. But, I do have one more request for you. But, feel free to tell me if it's too daunting."

"More daunting than working with teenagers?" you joke.

"Yes. Well, the staff here is also part of a defense task force. Think of it as a last resort military extension. Again, it's no obligation. But, I would like to extend the offer to participate. I think you could be a valuable asset."

You chew your bottom lip and tap your shoe against the floor. "What does it involve?"

"You would be practicing teamwork in disaster simulations with members of the force in addition to sparring and combat training with coworkers. Based on your CV, and given your abilities and range of movement, you would be going against our top fighter, Logan."

“Do I get a briefing before I get in the ring?” You half joke.

“Of course. I’m not interested in killing you.” Charles chuckles from the other side of the line. “We only want everyone in top shape should the need arise, and stamina is a priority.” You stare out the window, weighing your options when the voice chimes back in. "Again, it's no obligation. Having you here to look after the children would be far more than I could ask for."

You consider what this could mean. Again, it didn’t sound like there was much to lose. Besides regular trips to the gym, it had been a while since you’ve let off some proper steam. Your last martial arts class feels like ages ago. Maybe a few months, but still. Close combat could be a good refresher. Although, should a real emergency arise...but, you can't think of a single emergency that could come from working in a school, mutant exclusive or not.

"Actually, I think I'd be happy to join. I just hope you know I may not be there until-"

"I can take care of your visa. I know several great lawyers. You're more than welcome to come now and we can have the paperwork done by the end of the month." 

"Oh wow. You don’t have to do that.” You smile awkwardly to yourself.

“Please. It’s the least I could do.”

You sigh. “Ok. Well, I guess I'll get organized. I appreciate the offer. Really, I do."

"Of course. I'm sure the children will appreciate you just as much."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Chapter 2 and already an author's note? What is the world coming to? Sorry for putting this up so late. God struck me with diet AO3 curse. I'm fine though.

I'll try not to keep you guys waiting for the next one

[wooteena]

oh my god i just realized it's been literally years since you've been active. how the hell are you?? :O

helaurr anon omg lets do like a wooteena roundup ❕

still 16 (going on 17) (actually 33 /ref)

still australian (might change if plans go well because CRINGE TW:)

still dating the tumblr boyfriend. remember when i e-begged for a date 3 years ago? snagged dutch fanartist @onlygayminecraftstuff ? still going strong babes. froot for life i tell you.

hopefully going to- 🫣 to🫣 meet up🫣 sometime soon🫣🫣 face reveal for the meetcute when it happens promise

thatll happen once highschool slows down or finishes though. im a 'senior' so to speak ! year/grade 11 or 12, you guess ^_^

graduation might be late or happen differently because im💚 still disabled! trying to fix that too, sorry about the canon disability rep erasure guys my bad /sar

on the srs though? im winning. thriving, even. as much as tumblr was (and is, considering that i check in every 6months 😭) a space that i couldnt have lived without, there is definitely smth unfort to be said that this was the only place i could socialize because of how little capacity for anything i had from ages 12-14 because of chronic pain. being able to say that im full time at school and are finally, fully 'in' that rl friend group and show them the weird shit that happens on tumblr is probably the best, and most unbelievable thing i could tell chronically online, preteen wooteena.

i will never ever stop returning and reminiscing on this stupid minecraft blog is because i got to be an annoying kid with (mostly!) no repercussion and socialised during probably formative years while i was hurting. tumblr gets to be the place for the disabled, queer, and weird, always.

tldr wooteena cringefailed all over the screen about how tumblr saved their life probably. i love the blr because it loved me

get dogged on

[mithliya]

"^_^ but thank u for taking the time to use that to actually defend actual lesbophobia that was expressed'

first of all I'm literally not defending it I agree she's lesbophobic and I've never liked ms-revived-frogs tbh she says so much shit off the cuff and then completely doubles down unreasonably. she's just a contrarian that think she's the only one that really understands anything. maybe a symptom of her age but im still not gonna give her a pass or then she'll just continue to b like that.

second of all I literally wasn't the anon that sent any of those original asks but I did know wtf they are talking about w piqued. idk about the rest im only talking about the piqued thing. i just think its crazy how radblr can correctly recognize those comparisons are lesbophobic and wrong, but when people call us dick worshipers or spread essays on how we're identical to men, suddenly thats no biggie and the only evil is that the bihets think they have the right to complain. piqued was the least bad person to reblog that shit essay bcoz she at least partly acknowledged some bits were bad, but she still thinks that the "bad" parts like comparing our sexual assaults to TIM completely fake murder stats or saying we're dick worshipers or the premise of the essay on how we're identical to men are completely acceptable to pass around even if their 'bad' if she decides she thinks its worth it, and us rape victims are pathetic if we take offense at her choice. and thats the thing even when u all say that harassment or abuse against bi women is "bad", a lot of ppl on here just treat it as like a fart in the room at most nothing real and nothing realated to real pain or oppression just annoying whining. ppl oppose it in theory but in practice they completely let ppl like that off the hook and show way more anger at any bisexuals that bring up the topic of how ppl harass us treating us like we're complaining over nothing. no ones gonna call desisapphic, ornitomoltorinco, like-a-ruby, eliminatedmighty, angrylesbianatwork, and dozens others that passed that shit around homophobes for making light of our rape and using it as a gotcha or misogynists for how they call us dick worshippers. no one's ever gonna spare any anger for them even if they mildly criticize, it all goes only into insisting that bi "male worshipers" exagerate everything and can be believed. And I'm not talking about you but rad spaces as a whole. I actually don't think ur that bad about bi women at all, u at least call bullshit bullshit when its direct, but you seem completely unable to call out sussy shit thats in between the lines, and the thing is i know u can coz ur smart and you do it all the time with other shit. but unfort a lot of people are alot shittier about bi women than u, i don't get why you have to pretend theyre not and bis are just making everything up.

“i just think its crazy how radblr can correctly recognize those comparisons are lesbophobic and wrong”

the idea that radblr is collectively recognising this as lesbophobic & wrong is laughable to me. i’m seeing more ppl outright justifying her lesbophobia n demonising me for criticising it than i am seeing ppl saying it was lesbophobic. and of the ppl calling it lesbophobic, almost every single one is a lesbian.

ur paragraph about piqued is.. literally nothing she even said. “TIM completely fake murder stats” is bizarre to say bc like.

the rate of transwomen of colour being murdered isn’t a myth. the myth is acting like trans women are the most vulnerable group, which overall they are not. however black or latam trans women are absolutely at high risk of being murdered:

and almost everything u took issue with is stuff she mentioned as an issue as well:

like idk i find it absolutely insane that of all the ppl u could have gone after, u specifically chose the lesbian who agreed with ur takes here and chose to demonise her. there’s also the fact that youre expecting *others* to go after what *you* find problematic *on your behalf* instead of just.. doing it urself? i mean none of u did shit when tagai/tonguehurt was harassing me and even happily grouped us together and acted like we were besties when she left. none of u cared when that general circle was being awful to me. and most of u directed not even 1/20th of the attacks directed at me towards the ppl u named above. and then on top of that ur like “hey why don’t u go after these ppl i disagree with harder? even tho we won’t call out the lesbophobia within our circles or call the ppl we disagree with out ourselves or anything else” .. just bizarre frankly

also i actually had no issue with ms-revived-frogs before ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i disagreed with some things but the lesbians are unempathetic stuff she said was shocking to me bc i didn’t expect it from her. her inability to take any accountability and readiness to demonise me despite me giving her the benefit of the doubt n simply politely explaining how she was lesbophobic was also shocking to me considering she made it seem like she was an ally to lesbians. so how u felt about her prior to that doesn’t matter to me tbh, no one needs to dislike or hate her or anyone else. but that lesbophobia should be criticised

btw never heard of eliminatedmighty, i did criticise angrylesbianatwork but she’s inactive now anyways, don’t know what ornito did, and at most i disagree with like-a-ruby and desisapphic on some things but i’ve seen ppl go after those two and literally no one else you’ve mentioned which.. again i do find it interesting that the women who say they want front row seats to see a woman being abused by her bf/husband and called women misogynistic terms such as bulldyke-rider or others in her direct circle aren’t ppl that y’all go after nearly as much as ppl like desisapphic

[houjichaya]



13 + 71, yamaniku, i believe the rest of the details can fill themselves out???

ah, yes, thank you for requesting one of my favorite ships! tbh, it deserves way more traction in the fandom than it currently gets. 13 (detective AU) + 71 (twenty-four hours to live), ft. yamaniku (nikaidou yamato/@stellamancer) -- written in second-person pov because I wasn't sure how well legit yamaniku would be received by the niku in question. note: proper ship name is still up for debate, so yamaniku is being used as a placeholder for the time being! nikudou could be kind of cute, though. nikainuku? nikaiku? niniku? ninniku? the possibilities are endless... (if only yamato's name were written with different kanji. mountain meat would have been amazing!!!)

"Another love letter arrived for you." The envelope that's being offered to you is a soft pastel green, and nothing about it screams love letter, but your partner has taken to calling them that as of late. It's probably because the last letter you received playfully invited you to dinner, as if the sender wasn't a wanted criminal and you weren't the detective hot on his trail.  "Thanks," you say, taking the envelope without so much as a glance in his general direction. It's already been dusted for prints and checked for explosives, you suppose. If you die, it'll come out of Ishida's paycheck.  As usual, the envelope is addressed to my darling detective, written in crimson ink reminiscent of blood. Your brow furrows in irritation as you make your way over to your desk. In one fluid motion, you grab a letter opener and slice it open.  The contents read as follows: As fond as I've grown of our little game of cat and mouse, I must admit that I tire of your futile efforts to catch me. I thought I provided you with a wondrous opportunity in inviting you to dinner last night, so you can imagine my great sorrow when you failed to show up. I had to find someone else to keep me company and ease the pain of my broken heart.  (You almost crumple the letter up right then and there. Another victim will be found soon. Maybe you should have gone with your gut, after all.)  In the past few months, I feel as though we've come to and understanding of one another. It is my hope that you don't refuse me again, although our first meeting will inevitably be our last.  You have twenty-four hours to set your affairs in order, as I imagine you won't be able to do much else after. Remember: if you don't find me, then I'll find you.  Yours, Nikaidou Yamato Some love letter, you think, folding the page up and stuffing it back into the envelope so you can submit it to evidence later. It's more of a death threat than anything else, but you find that you don't mind all that much. Either way, you'll finally get to see him face to face, which means he's as good as caught.

As it turns out, Nikaidou Yamato looks nothing like the image that's been circulating the tabloids in increasing amounts over the past few months. In fact, he bears little to no resemblance to the photos in his file, which explains why no one (read: you) has been able to pin him down. And that's why you never saw him coming. The twenty-four hours came and went in the blink of an eye, and when you finally returned home to clear your head and maybe grab a bite to eat, he made good on his promise to find you instead. He ambushed you in your own kitchen, holding a knife to your throat to keep you in check. He wasted no time in shoving you down into one of the chairs in your dining room and tying you up. Which brings you to your current predicament. "See something you like?" His lips twitch at the corners as he leans back in his chair, eying you over the table that separates the two of you. You're seated directly across from him, hands bound behind the chair's back with what feels like rope. The knots won't budge. He's smart enough that he also secured your legs, which is something you hoped he'd overlook if you didn't put up too much of a fight. How unfortunate. You narrow your eyes but keep your lips pressed tightly pursed. To be honest, some part of you has noticed that he's incredibly handsome, which explains how he's been so adept at getting close to his victims, but you're not about to tell him any of that. "Come now," he says, his voice a lazy drawl. His eyes appear to be glinting with laughter as he watches you, but maybe it's just a trick of the light reflecting off his glasses. "You might as well say what you want now, or else you'll regret it later." You close your eyes for a short moment, open them again. Yamato is giving you an expectant look, and you quickly glance away, focusing instead on his hands. They're folded together in front of him, resting innocently on top of crisp white tablecloth, as though they've never been stained with the blood of innocents. "...Why are you doing this?" He makes a face. "Boring." "No, I mean"--you try your best to motion towards the tablecloth that you're only now realizing you've never seen before in your life--"why are you doing this?" There's silverware placed neatly in line with your shoulders, as one might expect from a fine-dining restaurant: forks on the left, knives and spoons on the right. It takes Yamato a few seconds to understand that you're not inquiring about his terrible life choices, and soon a smile blooms on his face, misleading in it's warmth and delight. "Ah!" He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, and you instinctively flinch backwards -- as much as you possibly can given your current state -- which elicits a chuckle from your captor. "I thought you'd be exhausted after running around all day chasing dead ends, so I made you dinner." "How romantic," you say dryly, not quite able to stop your lips from twitching in amusement. And it would be, if you weren't tied up and the man sitting across from you wasn't a wanted criminal. He grins lazily. "A woman like you deserves it." "It'd be nicer if you untied me," you say casually, and Yamato laughs. The look on his face now makes your heart drop. He's toying with you. He knows that you're not able to spring yourself from his trap. And regrettably, he's right. "Later," he says, eyes darkening, and your blood runs cold as you remember his promise. His threat. "I'll leave your body somewhere nice so your partner won't have to look too hard. But let onii-san have a little fun with you first, okay?"

--bad end

[parola-di-winx]

stupid woman, this is the second time you’ve insulted me. you're definitely an Islamophobe, I don't believe in your support for Palestine. I wrote in arabic so you can see that I'm real.and I didn’t write the second message. you're just stupid

cannibal holocaust is like a mockumentary but the structure is found footage and some might even SAY it's the first of its kind ?!?! isn't that just inherently cool?? to have something that is considered the first time A Thing has ever been done??? like that's always so exciting to me. part of why texas chainsaw massacre is SO elevated in my brain probably. anyway it being the first found footage movie is especially significant because people have never seen that before. you know how blair witch came out and everyone was genuinely looking for these kids lost in the woods? imagine that TWO DECADES EARLIER the director went to COURT bc people thought he was actually distributing REAL people being murdered and worse. he had to ho back to south america and find all the actors and bring them to court with him to prove no one actually died. the worst part abt this movie is also the only part that's real unfort which is the animals that Have been hurt very graphically too for the making of this movie. which is not only fucking sad but so frustrating because none of that was even necessary like they had such good sfx at play and you had to kill animals for real ?? and like for what. none of those scenes were necessary

anyway the mockumentary aspect was film crew going to somewhere in the amazon forest to show Unhinger Wild Barbaric Native Tribes ooooooo isn't it sooooo scary look at all these evil insane things they dooooo........ and then said crew gets Lost. they never come back and a professor who iirc was like an expert in traditions and culture or whatever of people who live in the amazon is sent to find them. they do find the tribe the crew had made contact with and find the footage too. they find the entire film which besides the /documentary/ section also shows how the crew would the worst things to fire up the tribe or straight up Fake rituals and stuff that they would then sell as Evil Insane Scary Rituals . thank God eventually they get got and die horribly 👍👍

a third of the film is cinematically shot and i'm not sure what the excuse for that is. i think they were doing a mockumentary within the mockumentary? like the crew is doing a documentary in the amazon forest and then the professor and His team is doing a documentary about the search for the original crew. but then there are also more cinematic scenes of the professor showing the entire footage to his producers to convince them it shouldn't be aired/should only be aired in full to show the truth. it's kinda like. who is really the barbarian here. who is really the savage. i think it was trying to fly too close to the sun and comes off as slightly pretentious bc aren't you, deodato the real life director of this whole movie, still lowkey exploiting random people from the other side of the world ? like what business do you have trying to woke shame the usamericans ??? idk lmao i don't trust this mans he's done other. sort of equally distasteful Attempts at. something. i don't know what is goal ever is. but. people were traumatized and terrified of this movie when it first aired and i wish i was alive at the time to like. experience the mass hysteria that makes you believe this is true. it's surely a fascinating time capsule and now we have paranormal activity

do you wanna know the real gorey gross bits ? that's what we're here for right ? they had a girl impaled from her genitals to her mouth. it looked INSANE it's i think the most striking visual from the movie and it's done so well it still holds up fine. they had like this huge pole so that it would REALLY look extra painful and the top half was attached to a mouthpiece the actress could like bite into ? and the bottom half had like a bike seat type of end akfkakkf so she could kinda sit on it . insane. really good. i tip my hat

[fmp2jessphelps]

making the poster

first i got my canvas board i use this because i do not like the bounciness of regular canvasses and find it difficult to keep a steady hand without a solid surface to work on

i then quickly and roughly sketched out my creature mostly from my imagination and using a real human skeleton as reference

i started by adding an overall wash of watered down white pain as my base coat

i then mixed up a light grey colour and started to add in foggy cloud shapes i did this by dabbing my brush lightly at an angle to create those cloudy shapes and texture

at this stage i added more black to my already premixed grey every layer i added getting darker as i progress into the painting i did this to create a 3d layering effect

i found that the paints weren't blending as i wanted and were mostly looking quite patchy i tried to fix this by getting a fluffy brush and buffing out the edges as well as adding more paint and working out the particularly bad patches

once i was satisfied with my background i began working on my creature i got a fine detail brush and went in with straight black paint at this stage my original pencil sketch has been lost and i am free handing

i made sure to keep a steady hand as i mapped out the proportions and placement of my skeleton

i added points to the shoulders hips knees etc. to give a more sharp and scary effect i made the fingers long and spindly because i find it a lot more eerie like the hands off the other mother in Coraline

i achieved this effect with the hands by barely touching my brush to the canvas and almost letting the paint form thin webs to connect the points

after adding a few extra details such as the spikes along the spine and neck and darkening up the edges a bit more i was done

i am happy with the way my final product has come out although there are some things that i would change such as i would add more to the background to make it more interesting and take more time and care into my blending. unfortately due to poor time management i was unable to do this.

[your-regina]

About fairness

Doesn't it feel unfair? I find it so hard to not seethe in the face of such blatant injustice. I believe fairness is much rarer than it seems, since even at birth the great majority of beings will be put into different levels of hell. In darker moments I tend to believe existence in itself is a curse, an atonement of sorts, because I can't accept that - even in the best iteration of life - every form of existence leads to struggle, pain and decay. The knowledge of death should be enough torment, but as conscious beings we can't help but go beyond. And thus we find ourselves in all sorts of fabricated predicaments.

Growing up, as I gained some understanding of the world I began to despise my conscience and the many forms of torture it posed for my existence, which naturally should have been way easier. I used to believe I'd be so much more at ease if I was some sort of plant, devoid of any knowledge of both life or death, or even uncaring of my own survival and all of its implications.

I jokingly said I wished I had been born as a microorganism destined to die in mere seconds with not an ounce of consciousness.

I think there are many things that make someone's life easier, such as money, beauty, status, social context and even some inner strengths or personality traits. As a kid, I was way too naive, enough to ignore the vast amount of differences between humans. I wholeheartedly believed in equality and stuck to the idea that everyone had primarily good intentions, despite having seen pretty awful people in action from a very young age. I kept this childish outlook on life for almost the entirety of my teenage years, even if at a first glance I seemed so negative and, according to some people who met me back then, unapproachable.

Even as the sheltered girl I still am, I've come to realize that not everyone lives in the same world. This is no longer about whether I'd be better off as a rabbit or a succulent, but rather about how much different my experience would have been if I had been born into a happy, wealthy or just barely better family. It sounds vane and shallow because it is, but am I not allowed to have petty complaints whenever I want? It's not like being in any other way has gotten me somewhere better. It's been a while since I've gathered enough decency to admit to being an insanely envious person, someone who not only fancies someone's money or position, but something as simple as their good mothers, their qualities and dreams. I doubt many people have ever resented someone for simply having an idea of what they want to do with their life.

Saying I can get jealous over someone's family can almost make me seem a bit better than I actually am, because this poison goes way beyond that. I hate thinking of how some people have never had to work hard to get anything in their entire life. I recall how I cautiously saved my mom's money when I was just a kid, simply because I wanted her to not worry so much about it, while out there many kids would throw tantrums whenever their parents didn't buy them something expensive. Even now, I can't avoid getting anxious whenever I have to spend money, even if it's absolutely necessary, like when I got extremely sick for many months and didn't go to the doctor until I collapsed that fateful night of January.

I've also seen where beauty can get someone, and sometimes, even if it's perhaps the most frivolous wish in the world, I keep thinking my life could be so much easier if I had some of that grace at least. I think a lot of human struggles revolve around beauty, of what is pleasant to the eyes. It is an everchanging concept, and one in which we can't seem to agree on. If humans collectively have made such a big deal out of beauty, why is it so wrong for a person to wish they had it?

I grew up hearing tales about otherworldly beauty and it always seemed to be so closely related to kindness and good fortune. No astoundingly beautiful lady ever went home poor and unfortate at the end of any fairy tale, just as every ugly woman faced the darkest destiny for the happy ending to come.

Although I wish I could defy the many standards set over the centuries, I've been trained to perceive certain things as beautiful and I can't seem to change my own ideals despite knowing they're likely not mine at all. I suppose this happens to most people, even though many may not be so aware of it. And just like that, I feel like we've laid a curse upon us all, setting us up for disappointment since birth.

As someone who was sadly not too blessed in that regard, I've been fighting my own selfish wishes in order to keep myself more at ease with this body I'll carry around for quite some time. But can you really blame me if I say I don't like myself and I wish I was vastly different? Even if you did, I'm way past caring about opinions, not when I've thought about this for such a long time, and when it's caused so much harm to myself.

I still think, through some amount of monstrous will power, someone could possibly rid themselves of such imposed wishes, but I don't think it would be neither quick nor easy. But because of that, I've worked on accepting myself as an ugly person and live as that without giving it much thought. But you see, if I ever mention this idea to anyone, they're so quick to tell me I'm not ugly and swear I do have some good features. This only reaffirms the fact that beauty is still important to everyone, important enough that they try to console me over the lack of it. Clearly, that's not what I want at all, or rather what I wish I didn't want.

Money and beauty are only some among the myriad of concepts that complicate life. Maybe I'm partially to blame for even stopping to complain for these little things, but are they really little at all?

I can't help but be bugged by the idea that some have been granted so much by existence while other will always have to crawl looking for scraps until they face the same gruesome fate as any other living thing. I can't stop hating the idea that I have to feel grateful for the little crumbs I've got even though I was cursed with the knowledge of the better things the world could have given me.

The tale of the forbidden fruit in the heart of Eden has always felt like utter hell to me. Why put something in plain sight for eternity and still warn not to ever get near it? Isn't that some sort of torture by itself? I wouldn't be the one to save us from banishment.

If I put it this way, does it sound overly negative? Does it make me sound like a bitter old lady? I do feel like that sometimes, to be honest. In any case, it's not like this is all that goes through my mind everyday. I think of much more mundane things, vane enough to make me look and sound rather shallow, and I'm the happiest in those occasions. But struggles inevitably lead to dissatisfaction, and I'm the sort of person who just can't keep her complaints to herself. Still, I've told you so many times how much I wish I could bring some warmth to the world, I wish I could be brighter. Because of this, I'd rather write a thousand unsent letters than to ever utter a word about these things to anyone, not anymore.

[still-a-morosexual-help]

are we exchanging mammon songs because i have a whole list of him x mc songs-

not another song about love is super perfect for their early relationship when they were both still fighting and being bratty to each other (its she/her pronouns unfort but i always apply it to him and gn mcs)

bishounen is a soft song about loving a shy, tsundere-like boy whose secretly lonely and just wants affection. the very last verse is so painful if you apply it to mc’s pov in lesson 16

i’m glad you’re evil too is a lot more angsty/bittersweet but its about a lonely person who feels depressed and hopeless because of their loneliness but ends up falling in love with another depressed and lonely person who somehow manages to still be cheerful and hopeful and gives the singer strength and confidence

i swear im forgetting smth but these are what i have for now

We are!!

1.) Okay I love this song! I listened to it for two full weeks straight about a month ago (cause I'm a multitasker who can juggle brainrot for several ships at a time) and I have no idea why I didn't realise it fit Mammon & MC back then cause it does fit them

2.) Me: Oh wow this is really cute and it fits so well and - oh. Oh no.

Thanks. 'S not like I'm using my heart or anything🥲

Do I have a fic that fits perfectly with this song? Yes. Did I only remember that this fic existed when I got to the end and sobbed? Also yes.

'Fake Fic Title' Ask Meme (GN! Unnamed MC × Mammon)

Detailed outline/summary of the fic I would have written for it, dialogue included in certain parts for a fake fic title I was sent

Chapter 2 - Come on, Pretty Boy

A walk through time fic!

3.) So I genuinely went into this believing it was gonna make me sad as fuck but this was surprisingly cute and wholesome? I mean it did always have an angsty tone to it and an implication of angst itself but the lyrics were really sweet? It sounded like two people who were comfortable with each other and enjoyed spending time with each other and I loved it

Thank you so much for these!!

[captainjimothycarter]

So Steve had hearing issues before he was serumed, it says partial deafness which could have been a side effect from any one of a number of his illnesses, but just imagine for a moment him realizing his newborn is deaf (Ala "Creed" cause that was gorgeous) and instead of going to the internet or a panic like that just instantly going to Clint in a "Help me help my child in the way they need" panic.

AH, OP I love this prompt so much. I unfort have never seen Creed but I still hope I did this justice.

Steve is just worried that his son would be like him with the serum, the pain he was in...

--

He was Captain America, for Christ’s Sake. People looked up to him to have solutions on the spot for problems that shouldn’t exist in the first place. People begged him to find a solution, to stop the bad guy of the week from robbing a bank or harming an innocent person. People expected him to have all the answers.

Yet here, in this reality, Steve found himself without a solution. He didn’t have the answers to a problem he had prayed and hoped wouldn't exist in the first place. He should have the answers, the solution. He was Captain America, he was the savior, people’s hope, their symbol of truth and justice.

Baby blue eyes filled with tears stared up at him, wondering why his daddy wasn’t paying attention to him. The weight of his child, of the situation settled on his shoulders as he listened to the doctor without truly hearing him.

He didn’t have the answers. He’d brought a child into this world and he hurt them. Unintentionally, he hurt them when he counted on the serum to save his precious little one from a fate he wished on no one. He’d never wish his illnesses on anyone, the pain he felt, the daily struggle. He failed his son, fearing he’d suffer the same fate as he did.

“You didn’t do this,” Peggy tried saying a few hours after the appointment, after little Chester had been laid to bed.

Steve went through the motions without truly being there, too lost in his head as he fed and changed Chester, laying him down in his crib to sleep. Now he sat at the table, staring at his cold coffee.

“I did,” Steve finally responded in an emotionless tone. “I absolutely did, Peggy. I brought him into this world, I knew the risks and yet—”

“It wasn’t just you, Steven,” she retorted in a pleading tone. “You didn’t do this alone. This was a joint decision to get pregnant, to bring a child into this world. Listen to me, we had no idea how your serum would work in terms of having a child.”

“Chester is deaf, Peggy!” He buried his face into his hands, gripping at his hair. “That could just be the start of it! Him being deaf isn’t… isn’t the end of the world and I know that, but it could be the start of everything that was wrong with me! What if he’s sick like how I was, stuck inside because my immune system couldn’t even fight a cold? What if he has my heart or nerve pain? What if he’s hurting right now? What if—”

“Steven Grant Rogers.” The full name drew his attention, made him look up at her with tears brimming in his eyes. She cupped his face and slowly brought their foreheads together. “You did nothing wrong, do you understand me? For every problem, there is a solution. It might not be an immediate solution, it might take months or years even, but there are solutions. We don’t know the full effects, alright? We just have to wait. You can’t spiral like this and hurt yourself and eventually bring it on Chester, okay? Chester and I need you. You don’t have to come up with every solution and have every problem on your shoulders, Steve. We both need you here. Right now.”

She drew Steve into her arms, letting his head rest on her shoulder as he softly cried. “I love you,” he finally whispered into her neck. “I’m sorry, I-I...I just worry so much.”

“I know you do, I do too,” Peggy whispered into his hair. “For now, he's as healthy as he can be. Even Doctor Strange said so, alright? He’s not in pain. His immune system is working just fine. He’s on medicine for what little problems he has, he’s eating, he’s smiling. He loves you and I love you too, Steve. For now, we can handle the problems as they come. Just don’t get lost in that head of yours, alright? Be here, with me, with Chester.”

--

Steve steeled himself as he stood on the other side of the door, trying to quell the panic that had been rising in him since he got up this morning.

Peggy was right—he couldn’t spiral and panic every second of the day because he was worried about Chester. He was a father now. He was going to worry regardless, adding the extra anxiety of Chester’s health because of how frail he was as a child was not going to help. She was right, there were solutions. Not that Chester being deaf was a problem.

Steve just honestly worried there was more behind it. The frail health, the nerve pain, the back pain, his heart, the…

“Get it together,” Steve mumbled to himself, thumping his head with the heel of his hand. “You can’t spiral again, Rogers. You just can’t. It’s not going to do anyone any good.”

“Talking to yourself again, Cap?”

Steve blinked as he stared at Clint, not having heard the door open. His face felt hot as he followed Clint’s gesture to come inside and sit on his couch.

“I didn’t… see…” He started, clearing his throat. Clint just looked amused as he ran a hand through his bed head and sat on the coffee table adjacent to him. Lucky was immediately in between Steve’s legs, demanding to be loved on.

“It’s okay. Pegs said you got a lot on your mind right now.” As Clint spoke, his fingers twitched. Steve noticed as he turned his head to grab at a coffee cup that the man didn't have his aids in. “She told us about Chester—you alright?”

Steve’s brow ruffled in confusion, studying Clint’s honest expression. His bright blue eyes stared back, waiting for a reaction. Clint had found out and he was asking him if he was alright?

“Yes and no. I’m… spiraling. I just…” His shoulders slumped and he let his hands fall from Lucky’s head. “I just want Chester to be okay. I-I know medicine is better now, there are better solutions but the pain I was in as a child, Clint… I can’t imagine wishing that on anyone. Even as I grew older, I learned to hide the pain, especially from my friends and family. I don’t want Chester to do that. I’m just worried…”

The archer’s hand laid on his arm, giving a comforting squeeze. “Hey. I know it's useless to talk you out of a spiral—only Peggy or Natasha can manage that one. I just know that you are a good man, Steve Rogers. You’re worried for the right reasons and that… that shows you’re an amazing father. Chester is lucky to have you.”

“It’s why I’m here, actually. I…” Steve’s tongue poked out, licking his dry lips. “I… I don’t…” He groaned and leaned back into the couch, Lucky taking this opportunity to lay himself fully in Steve’s lap. The pressure helped to ground him.

Clint was patient for once, leg bouncing as he waited for Steve to get his thoughts together.

“I want your help if that’s okay. I trust you and if you don’t want to or-or can’t for whatever reason that’s fine,” the father finally stated. “Chester is deaf. You-you know that and I know you are and you know sign language. I lost my hearing in my left ear as a kid to pneumonia, was hard of hearing in my right ear too. I was taught sign language by a few nuns at the church, but it’s all outdated. I was just…”

Steve sat up to find Clint still staring at him, a small smile and nod telling him to go on. His friend really knew him then, knew how much of a struggle it was to get this out. Not because asking for help was hard for him, but because he wasn’t sure if he was overstepping a boundary.

“I was wondering if you could… help me, is all. Help me, help my child in the way they need. Help us learn sign language from you, from others who know it.”

Clint was quiet for a minute, lips pursed. He slowly sat his mug down and Steve watched as his fingers moved. When he didn’t say anything, Clint chuckled. “‘Steve, you’re my best friend!’ Of course, I’ll help you guys. Now, let me shower and we’ll go back to your place and go see my nephew.”

For the first time in a few days, Steve could feel the knot unsettling in his chest. Peggy was right—going to see Clint about this was the right choice. She was right on many things, as was Clint, that he couldn’t worry about Chester’s whole life and they’ll deal with the problems as they come.

[artemisvexing]

Bad Buddy Ep 4: Pat's Pov (Part 3)

Part 2 of my analysis of Episode 4 through Pat's eyes. This part is centered on the third part of the episode, which includes the scene at Wai's job and the make-up scene.

Part 3:

The next time the two interact is a Wai's job and Pat's not stupid. He knows Pran's upset with him by his recent behavior. Pran pointedly putting his stuff in the chair Pat pulled off for him is only further evidence. Ink herself reveals that there's no reason for the coldness: all three of them have some stake in the bus stop and that could easily explain their closeness, so Pat knows this isn't about an act, this is personal. Pran's responses are stilted and awkward the whole time he's there and Pat's not stupid. Pran's quick escape right after Ink gets touchy will probably have stood out to him but he doesn't make the connection until a bit later.

Then Pat shows up at Pran's door again with food and Pran rejects him again. Pat sees him grabbing his shoulder in pain and asks and Pran says "None of your business." There's no ground that Pat gains, no closeness that they share that isn't preceded by Pat fighting tooth and nail for it. Finally, Pat gets him to let him apply remedy to the bruise. This leads to further banter and then Pran feels they've gotten too intimate and tries to shoo Pat out. Pat calls him out on this too: "Are you asking me to leave after I've just helped you? Always." And his exasperation is not manufactured. So Pat changes the subject, (maybe hopes he can get more time with Pran by non verbally disguising this as a transaction) and asks for make-up remover. When he explains that he did photo shooting earlier, Pran goes "With Ink?" I think the pieces start to come together for Pat.

Pat's been seeing but now he's starts seeing. He knows he's discovering something. At the look on Pat's face, Pran makes this one, shakes his head, gets up and walks away.

I've talked about Pran's ability to get people to see what he wants him to see but even he has his limits and he knows that. There's a reason he pushes Pat away and a reason he doesn't want him in his room. It's because he knows he can't keep hims mask up all the time and we see it fall right here.

As Pran walks away, he goes on about how he Pat added it to his Instagram story (he follows him??), and goes (very tellingly) "I think everyone saw it. Did you wanna tell the world or what?" And Pat visibly puts two and two together. He starts to suspect that Pran likes Ink.

There's the make-up scene (another intimacy that only happens because Pat's pushing/annoying Pran enough to prompt him to do so.) Pat leans into his touch banters with him and even gets Pran to laugh, for the first time in the entirety of the show. Pat is filled with wonder and laughter himself and flirts aggressively, calling Pran cute. They have a whole moment but Pran's defense mechanism shows up and he soon starts to usher him out. Pat himself is confused by this, and cite the fact that he smells good this time. He even sniffs himself again after standing up because he genuinely doesn't know why Pran's kicking him out all of a sudden. (His jealously theory isn't fully fleshed out and it doesn't make full sense. If Pran's so jealous why didn't he kick him out the moment he mentioned the shoot? Why wipe his face at all? Why kick him out at that moment and not an earlier one?)

Pat knows he's gain something here and he needs to keep pushing if h wants to see it fully, if he wants to keep it. We know he was lying-at least initially about- not having the keys to his room, because we see his eyes dart back and forth guilty as he leaves before he turns around and tries to sell Pran this load of bull. Pran predictably does not entertain it and that must hurt. Even if Pat was lying, Pran couldn't know that for sure and the fact that he wouldn't even entertain the idea that Pat was telling the truth, or that he might not have even cared must've weighed on Pat. Still, Pran kicks him out and this ends Part 3.

Unfortunately, I let my fixation on this analysis sit for too long and I'm finding the next post hard to write. I'll get through it eventually but I've got an essay due in two hours...

[howtobeapersonwithfibro]

Henlo fellow Spoon Holder. I am present with a question for you and any other spoonies who can sound off. In the last year, I had severe mono, was diagnosed with IBS, and then as a result of the mono wound up with fibromyalgia that's often bad enough that I need a walker. Also, I'm losing feeling and dexterity in my hands.

As a result of all of this, my previously controlled anxiety (and depression) have, well, spiraled out of control. I'm currently on two different medications that both should be helping but aren't. The anxiety is the main issue- it's so bad I'm struggling to get to work or even leave my house. I want to apply for disability, but I'm worried I won't be considered 'disabled enough'.

Do you, or does anyone, have any advice for dealing with literally anything to do with SSDI? I tried to look at the information on the government website and had an anxiety episode just trying to understand it all.

Thanks in advance. Sincerely, one very stressed out Spoonie.

Hello spoonie friend!

It's so funny, your story is remarkably similar to mine - I had fibro because of genetics, then got mono in college and developed POTS because of it. also very depressy and anxiety-y so I feel you there.

I'm sorry your meds aren't helping. Try to be open to trying new ones if they really aren't meshing with you, but they can also take a bit of time. Another problem is that for a lot of us spoonies, depression and anxiety is very situational - who wouldn't be super stressed about being in pain all the time, being limited, etc? So some of it unfortunately is less medical and more situational, so it takes a lot of practice learning to cope with this crap.

I have some experience with SSI application/denial/working with lawyers about it (though I did end up dropping my case and trying to work very part time) so feel free to DM me with specific questions, I'll be happy to help.

Not to be a downer (because we all need money), but the whole process is VERY stressful and can really wear you down, so be sure to focus on self-care and ask for help where you can get it. Sometimes loved ones can help fill out forms, be with you for moral support at appointments or when doing paperwork, and if/when you do likely get denied the first time there are lawyers who charge nothing but a portion of your SSI/SSDI income if you win, so it's not like you have to have money beforehand.

As a starting point I just want to clarify that Social Security Disability Income (SSDI) is for people who have several years of work history, usually. I don't know what the exact number is. Supplemental Security Income (SSI) is for those of us who didn't get a chance to work much before becoming disabled. Unfortately it is less $ from my understanding.

(sorry if that was a lot at once)

Good luck, breathe, take breaks when you need to. It is a long process, but you can definitely fight for it. If anyone else has any advice to add please do so!

[anarchistgumball]

Bakukami- hurt/comfort

It was one fight, one stupid fight. He was angry, he knew he was making excuses. It shouldn’t even matter as it happened almost a year ago. It did matter though, it mattered then, it still matters. What he said was coming back to bite him in the ass.

He was in a plastic chair with a light cushion on it, comfortable for fifteen minutes, but not for four hours. Leaning over the side of the hospital bed, peering at his fiancé. Plastic digging into his arms leaving imprints, but he refused to leave. Denki was an idiot, how could he do this? He’d gone off and overused his quirk again. Even though he didn’t usually go overboard much anymore, when he did it usually wasn’t that big of a deal. An hour in his ‘stupid mode’, some pain for him unfortently. Then he came out of it. He really fucked up this time. He was trying to take on multiple villains while waiting for backup, he didn’t listen to his body. It had been six hours. He got the call in the middle of work, choosing to ignore it. After he was done and listened to the voicemail he immediately went to the hospital. Once he was alone in the room with Denki he broke down. Bakugo didn’t normally break down but this was his fiancé for fucks sake. Denki tried to comfort him but it was hardly comforting to see his thumbs up and hear his ‘wheeyy’ when he knew Kaminari had been like this for two hours. After the first hour of him being there Denki fell asleep and Bakugo was left with his thoughts.

Right now his mind was his own worst enemy, along to whoever did this to Denki. They were lucky they were in jail because they would not have liked what Bakugo would’ve done if he had found them. First his thoughts consisted of what would happen if Denki didn’t leave this state, as he didn’t particularly want to think about that he shoved it out of his mind. Next the memories came. Memories of when he was in his ‘stupid mode’, memories of happy moments between them. Next came the bad memories, the things Bakugo would rather forget. Fights, misunderstandings, personal issues floated around his head. No matter how much he wanted them to leave his mind always honed in on them. One in particular. He couldn’t remember what the original argument had been about, money, hero work, or furniture were the most likely options. It ended up dissolving into cutting remarks and insults. Denki and him both said some horrid things that day, but Bakugo’s had been the worst. That and the crying were the only clear things from that day.

‘Maybe you should just overuse your stupid ass quirk and go dumb for good. At least people would like you then.’ He cringed just thinking about what he had said. He had known Denki’s worst fears and used them against the other. He couldn’t believe the other forgave him, after weeks of not talking, but still. Tears welled up in his eyes for the second time that day. That’s when he agreed to go to anger management, he never wanted to hurt Denki like that ever again. Though he knew however bad this was for him it was ten times worse for Denki. He could still think in his ‘stupid mode’, it was a little distorted and not all coherent but his thoughts were there. He just didn’t have enough cognitive abilities to do anything but a thumbs up. He wondered what he was thinking about. Was he scared? Was he in pain? Denki once mentioned it was painful but Bakugo never inquired further, does it get worse the longer it goes on? How did it hurt him? Was he okay while sleeping? Bakugo hoped so. He wondered if Kaminari would be out of it when he woke up, from that thought he got the urge to shake the man on the bed awake.

Two more agonizing hours had passed of Bakugo crying, almost getting a hold of himself then losing it. He was tired. Tired physically and emotionally. He tried napping but kept jolting awake at the slightest sounds. Somewhere throughout the night Kaminari woke up. He seemed more aware but that might’ve been his sleep addled brain fooling him. With Kaminari being awake he himself got up, moved Kaminari slightly and got into the bed with him, holding a sandwich he got earlier in the night. He probably should’ve gotten something like soup instead, but he didn’t really think he’d have to feed Kaminari, thinking that Kaminari would be back to normal. Or well at least holding onto a sliver of hope that said he would be. Kaminari seemed to gain some control but he still wasnt speaking or moving. Bakugo held the sandwich in front of the other slowly feeding him. Kaminari’s arms and hands were by his side, probably not able to use them much still.

“Thumbs up if you can understand me, Kami”

Kaminari complied, thumbs up and let out a little ‘wheey’, Bakugo assumed it was to confirm his point even more. Bakugo nodded and Kaminari let his arms fall back to where they were.

“Do you have to use the bathroom?”

In response Kaminari put his thumbs back up. Bakugo sighed, getting up and going over to the other side of the bed to help Kaminari up. He picked him up, even though he knew Kaminari could probably still walk on his own.

Once they were back in the room, side by side again, Bakugo decided to play some music he knew the other liked and he didn’t hate. After he laid his phone on the table next to him he wound an arm around his fiancé’s waist.

“Jesus christ Pikachu if you ever do this again I’ll probably have a heart attack” he buried his head into the crook of Kaminari’s neck “You worry me too fucking much even when you aren’t doing stupid shit like this”

“M’sorry” Bakugo’s head shot up so fast he conked Kaminari’s nose.

“What”

“I said im sorry” Kaminari’s arms lifted and curled around the one around his waist. Fuck, Bakugo was going to cry again.

“Don’t be, idiot” He choked on a sob. Denki wiggled his way out of Bakugo’s loose grip, wiping the tears off his cheek with the pads of his fingers. “Fuck, I’m so happy, you have no fucking clue how worried I was. And I meant that, don’t fucking try a stunt like that ever again.”

Kaminari smiled, putting his head on Bakugo’s shoulder, “Yes, sir” he laughed a little.

On their way home the next morning Bakugo bombarded him with questions, sounding more like Deku than himself.

“You said it hurt once”

“What?”

“You know, when you short circuit and shit”

“Oh, yeah I mean it does”

“How?”

“Oh well usually I get pretty bad migraines from it.”

“Oh”

“It’s okay though, I mean I’m out of it now”

“But what if you weren’t”

“I...I don’t know”

“You can’t do shit like that, you can’t permenantly fuck youself up. Be careful”

“Yes I know, Katsuki”

“Do you? You fucking pushed yourself when you knew backup was coming, you can’t just do that”

“I know, I won’t, can you just drop it?”

“....I’m just so glad your back, I can’t lose you to something like this. I- I don’t know what the hell I’d do”

Kaminari grabbed his hand, “I won’t leave you, Kacchan” Bakkugo groaned at the nickname.

“Really? Now you use it? Never mind you should leave”

Kaminari just shrugged while giggling “Nope, can’t get rid of me now”

Bakugo grumbled, under his breath “I guess there could be worse things”

“Aww you love me” Denki put his free hand up to his chest, dramatically.

“I love a dumbass”

“I’ll take it! I love you too”

“Why did I decide to marry you”

Kaminari faked offense, “Because I’m amazing and beautiful obviously”

Bakugo snorted. “Obviously”

———————————————————————

IF YOU LIKE THIS PLEASE REBLOG OR ILL EAT YOUR TOES

[rubenpupen]

ahem <:з

 I, that, speak: "GOD THERE ARE SUCH POOR AND UNFORTABLEHi, I haven’t come here for a long time to drink tea and see some arts on my favorite OTP. And suddenly I saw that the people asked me FINALLY THAT QUESTIONS. I thought: “oh! Someone remembers me! yay^^”.  and see:

At first, I began to get angry, saying: "ABOUT THEY GOD HAVE DECLINED ALL, I WILL BE THEIR HEY TO ANSWER WHAT I AM EVIL AHAHAHA” But, after thinking about my convolutions, I realized that these people hate and consider me for a fool who likes to paint the Nazis, because of my art about SovietReich. Then, going to the notice, I began to laugh wildly because of this person:

seriously, I LUMINED with him, and with those guys who wrote me these "questions". As we say in Russia: “ YA otvechu za svoy bazar” (translated as: I will answer for my words). 

FIRST OF ALL

I, perhaps, will answer these four questions:  1- What? Do you really think that I am sorry for those morons who killed thousands of people ???? No, not even 1000, but BILLIONS of people. God, are you kidding me? I, that, speak: "GOD THERE ARE SUCH POOR AND UNFORTABLE :С I am so sorry for them, they are not completely guilty that they were killed by people!”. God, I would myself be ready to devour such a person if he said such a thing! THIS IS A DISGUSTABLE QUESTION AND YOUR OPINION ABOUT ME, THE PERSON WHO LIVES IN SHOOT RUSSIA. These two, or one person, think that I am for Nazism, and the fact that I completely agree and thank these people for WHAT THE OTHER PEOPLE HAVE MASTERED YOUR PAIN! 2- Maybe you open your eyes and see what it is FANART by COUNTRYHYMANS or tell FENDOM, and I will also say that it is SHIP-POST. I thought, as a reasonable person, it is normal to draw an art on a fendom with your favorite OTP and upload it to the Internet, what other people would see on that same OTP art and he would like. But it looks like I really: "fucking freak” who thought it was NORMAL DRAW YOUR FAVORITE OTP :| 3- You know, even with you, I don’t want to be so angry and rude, since you are NORMALLY unlike other people, said that you really don’t like it and said why. Seriously. You are the only normal among these people, who politely said you didn't like. But, I still answer that I am not a small child who thinks: “war is so cool!”, And draws it in every corner, like: “LOOK I DRAW FANART ON REICH. HAHA I LOVE THE WAR”. I am not a child, I have almost 14, and I know the seriousness of this. But understand, I laid out this is not a sign: "NAZISM IS COOL. JEWS OF THE CHARTER." I laid out this fan-art as my favorite ULP, because it’s okay to draw fan-art on OTP fandoms, I hope at least you will understand me. I love Jews, they are the same people as we are. I do not say that they are bad, and I do not advocate Nazism. 4- I am NOT antisemitic. In my posts there was no word about what kind of bad Jews. These are the same people as we all! Does it make sense for me to say something bad about them? Right, meaning NO.  The conclusion of these questions. There was only one normal person who said that even if it wasn’t drawing Nazism or not, it’s normal Jews (I just adore you because you’re a normal person, who thought that I really do not know). The remaining three people just stupidly began to call me, saying: "WHAT ARE YOU FOR NAZISM !? YOU AGAINST THE JEWS!? ALL YOU END FREAK!!". God, if you are, tell these people that they are STUPID, because they don’t know me and don’t know that I draw a fanart on my OTP -.-

SECONDLY

*laughs* Okay dude, you made me laugh. Now stop reposting my drawings not related to  SovietReich and calm down :,) otherwise I will die of laughter. I do not paint the Nazis. This is just a FANART on OTP, kid. In my eyes, you are really a child, since you write this comments, like: "LOOK THIS GIRL DRAWS NAZIS! WHAT IS IT BAD!". You also said that I was conside of Nazism.   God, I'm coming back to you, can I ask you to tell a person that I DON'T CONSIDE FANART ON OTP Nazism. Please make this person smarter, thanks.  Why do I think so about you? Because you literally slander me for allegedly drawing the Nazis, and not fanarths on the OTP (how many times have I said these phrases?) that I propagandize them, and say: "THIS IS COOL". Just re-read the answers to the questions please, I do not want to repeat.

THE MORALITY OF THIS POST

Be smarter, attentive, and adequately say what you do not like. 

Nazism - is BAD

Jews - are normal people, just like us all

Draw fanart on OTP - this is normal

А теперь пока-пока, надеюсь вы будете нормальными))