#which makes this extra nostalgic

[prettypaprika]

Fic Rec - Generation Kill (Brad/Nate)

One of my favorite tropes for Brad/Nate is getting together while Nate is in grad school after leaving the Marines. And this is one of my absolute favorite of those.

After That by Kaneko is just this perfect glimpse at Nate mid-way through adjusting back to civilian life while in school and all the things that he's trying hard not to think about. Including with respect to Brad.

I love that we get to see the two of them at a specific moment in time but I'm able to see how things will look further down the road. It's not a long fic, but it packs an emotional punch.

[the-mehlwurm]

every year when spring comes around I get this Easter song stuck in my head that my sister and I used to dance to for our parents like 3 Easters in a row or something. But every year I remember the lyrics less so now it's just 'WENN ES FRÜHLING WIRD IM HASENLAND DANN WHR IN DER LUFT EIN BUNTES VAND NANANANANANANSNA SOMETHING LEUCHTET OR WHATEVER NANANANANANANA NANANANANA BAND WOHL SEIN'

[fallloverfic]

While this is technically possible, I believe the maybe Deep Lore must be shared. Under the read more because Rob Liefeld's art is a content warning. (Also with the caveat the below is just me rambling about stuff I've seen wandering the Internet, wiser comics folks likely know this stuff far better than I)

(Also the further caveat, Kun seemingly has him with chest hair in the comic, at least judging by the cover art)

This is a page from "Youngblood #1" (April 1992) (Image Comics)

Creator, Plot, Pencils & Inks – Rob Liefeld Dialogue – Hank Kanalz Color Design – Brian Murray Color Separations – Digital Chameleon Editor-in-Chief – Chris Ulm

This is Chapel and an apparently unnamed woman.

I have no idea if this is the exact panel being referenced (particularly given I have avoided Liefeld's art in the wild wherever possible, even though that's admittedly somewhat difficult given how much he's drawn over the years). I only know about this page because of The 40 Worst Rob Liefeld Drawings. (The link not the comic is recommended read, it's very funny, as is the sequel). Notably, Dolph and Alex's pose is nearly identical to that first panel, and Chapel is also apparently hairless.

Captain Laserhawk: Blood Dragon Remix is based on the Far Cry 3 DLC, Blood Dragon, which is an homage to 1980s action films, cartoons, and video games. The protagonist's (Dolph Laserhawk) design is very clearly heavily reliant on the design for the DLC's protagonist, Sergeant Rex "Power" Colt. Rex looks a lot like a cross between Marvel's Winter Soldier (2005) and Cable, another Marvel Comics character who first appeared as a baby in 1986 (Chris Claremont (writer) and Rick Leonardi (pencils)) but later appeared for the first time in his more well-known adult appearance under Louise Simonson (writer) and Rob Liefeld (art) in 1990.

(Though Cable does... seem to have hair on his body, so... RIP Alex I guess).

Alex Taylor also looks a bit like a cross between Sabretooth (another Marvel character) and Shatterstar, a character created by Fabian Nicieza (writer) and Rob Liefeld (art) in 1991.

(This is mostly how Liefeld used to draw him. He looks a lot better under the hand of other artists these days, even just artists drawing for the same issues).

I don't think all roads lead to Liefeld. The guy mimicked a lot of stuff that was popular back then as far as I can tell. But even Kun's cover reminds me of a lot of covers Liefeld would draw (but actually good, because Kun's a good artist, and Liefeld is not).

Hallmarks of Liefeld's covers: lots of weapons everywhere, particularly guns, lots of buff dudes standing close together, giant crotches, and some wild hairstyles. (I like to think a theory for the Laserhawk animated series is "what if the homo-eroticism of all this wasn't subtext").

Statistically speaking, it's probable that first screencap references a lot of things, likely the same stuff Liefeld was inspired by, and maybe only unintentionally appears to look like that panel. But that terrible panel of Chapel was one of the first things in my mind when I saw it, because of how clearly this series is heavily referencing art from that era.

Okay... you got me. They're cute.

(Screencaps from the trailer for Captain Laserhawk: A Blood Dragon Remix, featuring the apparent protagonist and his canonical boyfriend whom Ubisoft describes as "the love of his life").

Also Tokyopop is doing the comic adaptation and the cover art by Bayou Kun <.< for the "boys love manga adaptation" - iOS

[dollishmehrayan]

# CHRISTMAS TREE DECORATING AND CHAOS ── .✦ ( decorating trees with batboys ‘separated’! ⋆౨ৎ )

a/n: I literally feel so happy genuinely now, I guess my mental health is getting better && anyways i have 64 requests to get to… i truly need to speed run through these but some I can’t do sadly 😭 so sorryy ᥫ᭡, tags: (batboys x fem!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

The king of enthusiasm: As soon as you suggest decorating the tree together, he’s all in.

“We’re going for the most extra tree Gotham has ever seen!” He wants it tall enough to touch the ceiling and glittery enough to blind someone.

He’s the guy who insists on climbing to the very top to put on the star, even though he wobbles dangerously on the ladder.

Sings Christmas songs (terribly off-key he’s also like tone deaf and beat deaf it’s a curse to hear him sing something at karaoke) while you decorate, complete with dramatic twirls and spins around the tree.

Accidentally tangles himself in the lights at least twice. ��I’m fine, I’m fine! I was just… testing the durability!”

Insists on taking a million photos of you with the finished tree, calling you his “Christmas angel.”

When it’s all done, he dims the lights, wraps an arm around you, and whispers, “This might be my favorite Christmas ever.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

He pretends to be indifferent. “Decorating a tree? Sounds boring.” But the second you start, he’s invested.

He’s surprisingly good at untangling lights and getting them perfectly spaced on the tree. “What? I’ve got steady hands.”

Jason leans into more minimalistic decor deep reds, dark greens, and gold accents but he lets you take the lead. “You want glittery ornaments? Fine. But I draw the line at tinsel.” (he’s like those sad beige moms but with like dark traditional Christmas colors…)

Complains about how prickly the tree is the entire time but still helps you string popcorn garlands because he knows it makes you happy.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

He’s excited about decorating but is terrible at it. Tim tries, but he’s way better at figuring out the tech side of things (like synchronized tree lights) than actually hanging ornaments.

Spends 20 minutes untangling lights and another 20 trying to figure out why one strand isn’t working. “It’s science! There’s a method to this madness.”

He’s the type to sneak a caffeine break halfway through while you keep decorating. “What? I need fuel to focus!”

Insists on hanging some nerdy ornaments—little Batman logos, Star Wars-themed ones, or even a tiny Robin figurine.

When you get frustrated with his lack of artistic flair, he pulls you close and says, “Hey, at least I’m good company, right?”

After it’s all done, he insists on dimming the lights and turning on the synchronized tree music. “Look at that. A masterpiece.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Initially acts like it’s beneath him. “Why would I waste time decorating a tree?” But he ends up being surprisingly good at it.

Damian has an eye for symmetry, so every ornament has to be perfectly spaced. “No, that one is too close to the red one. Move it.”

If you mention that decorating the tree is a nostalgic tradition for you, he softens immediately. “Fine. But this had better be worth it.”

He refuses to wear a Christmas sweater, but you catch him smiling when you put on a ridiculous reindeer headband.

Titus gets involved, carrying around ornaments and wagging his tail, which Damian pretends to be annoyed by but secretly loves.

When the tree is finished, he stands back with his arms crossed, pretending not to care. But when you beam at him, he quietly says, “It looks… nice. I suppose this wasn’t a complete waste of time.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

(He buys like 40 ft Christmas trees for the main ball in the manor and like that’s almost impossible to decorate without professionals)

The ultimate perfectionist. He has a very clear vision for the tree, but he tries to let you take the lead. “It’s your tradition. I’ll follow your lead… mostly.”

Insists on using the tallest tree that will fit in Wayne Manor and hires a team to bring it in.

He’s all about elegant, classic decorations white lights, glass ornaments, and a tasteful tree topper. But if you want colorful lights or quirky ornaments, he’ll indulge you.

Offers to lift you up to reach the highest branches instead of letting you use a ladder. “I don’t need you breaking your neck before the gala.”

Alfred brings hot cocoa and cookies halfway through, smiling at how relaxed Bruce looks around you.

When the tree is done, he turns to you and says, “It’s perfect. Just like this moment.” Then he pulls you into a rare, heartfelt kiss under the twinkling lights.

[daryldeerdixon]

Get off my back - Daryl Dixon

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Summary: A great fascination for the youngest Dixon took over you ever since the Quarry. Daryl notices and in fear of reciprocating your feelings, he continuously pushes you away. After Andrea shoots him, you don’t leave his side with the excuse of keeping an eye on him.

Warnings: Implied age gap (reader early 20s, Daryl late 30s) Fem!reader, Usual TWD gore, mentions of injuries, angst, yelling, mean!Daryl, failed-ish attempts of comfort, slightly medically skilled!reader, cigarettes, Daryl being a little too abrasive.

Era(s): Quarry, Greene farm.

Word count: 1.7k

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚꩜ ➴

Your eyes were trained on him the second you got to the group. As days went by, he seemed to have cast a spell on you, hypnotised you with something only he had. You saw beyond his mean persona, his rugged ways only making his vulnerability shine through. How you treated him didn't go unnoticed, not by him, certainly not by the rest. Always ensuring he had everything he could use before leaving for a hunt, sparing him extra food because 'He needed the extra energy', even small insignificant details like leaving his folded clothes at his tent door were starting to get to him. He felt like you could read him better than he could himself, which made him want to hate you.

Daryl kept everyone at a distance, but you were kept even farther. It bothered you and occupied your thoughts like a plague, you were practically living with the sole purpose of showing him he was worth everything you'd ever do and more. He had pulled something within you, although it was beyond your comprehension, you let your instincts and desire take you over. You were anything but pushy, you didn't try to force yourself onto his life, content with giving and not receiving even a glance your way in return. The archer hated that he couldn't bring himself to hate you.

In a fucked up world where the dead roamed, injuring oneself with the simple task of carrying firewood seemed flat-out stupid. Angry mumbles escaped the man as the log fell with a thud. "Goddamnit." Your eyes lifted from your task of shaping branches as stakes, at the sound of Daryl's grumbles. Blood dripped down to the ground as the blue-eyed man fixated on his newly obtained cut.

"Sit." You pointed to the nearest makeshift seat, marching your way inside your tent to look for your precarious medical supplies. "Wha' " He growled, squinted eyes now settled in your back, as he obeyed your command.

"You heard me." You replied in a quiet mumble, carrying alcohol, iodine, and bandages in one hand. You accommodated yourself on the ground at his feet, hands grasping his injured one in one swift but gentle motion. "Won't need stitches." You assured. Worried demeanor showed through your actions and on this occasion, he couldn't look away.

His stare changed from your face to your working consistently, as you finished wrapping the bandage expertly he looked at you through his eyebrows. "Ya' a doctor 'fore all this?"

A nostalgic smile crept up your face, usually content eyes now clouding with sadness. At your change of aura, he wished he could take back the question, even if he didn't understand what was wrong in his doing. "Sorry." He spoke barely above a whisper, raspy voice making him nearly unintelligible

"Third year of med-school. 'bout to start my fourth." He nodded, now wrapping his mind around your medical knowledge, you did look too young to be a doctor.

After that evening he stayed even further from you, which you didn't think possible. Still, you abstained from offering to look after his wound, knowing he was capable of doing that himself, and knew it would bother him to have the obligation of holding a conversation with you every day. The archer hated that you knew all that, proving his point of you being able to read him like your favourite goddamn romantic novel. If his mind stayed too much upon it, he would drive himself insane.

The next few weeks were hectic, in a matter of days you were already starting to get settled in a new location, a family farm that was lending you the place till the shot kid, Carl, healed and the lost kid, Sophia, whom Daryl frantically looked for, resurfaced from god knows where.

You paced around camp, Daryl had left earlier that morning and while that wasn't odd, the unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach was. "He's fine." Carol smiled at you, laying a comforting hand on your shoulder. Your brows furrowed, answering your own silent question as to how she knew what was on your mind. Being sly was never your strength.

"I know." You smiled, rubbing her back up and down in a reciprocation of her action. You admired how she stood strongly, after the death of her asshole husband and the disappearance of her daughter, she had survivor written all over her face. The calm atmosphere faded at the series of unfortunate events that continued to unfold before you. A shot, screaming and a bloody, limp archer being carried inside the house.

As Hershel worked on the wound at his torso, which you were relieved to know was not a walker bite, you got your hands on the bullet graze at the side of his head. The youngest Dixon would be fine, back on his feet in a few days time, that didn't wash away your anger at the blonde now standing behind you. "Oh my god, he's going to be fine, right?" Andrea questioned for the billionth time.

Your eyes travelled back to her. "You won't be if you don't shut your mouth." Attention back on your stitching, you mumbled an unintelligible cuss, anger practically bubbling out of you.

That night you slept curled up in a chair next to his sleeping form. He had woken up multiple times, only having the strength to look around the room and then doze off once again. You kept constantly waking up to check for a fever, maybe a broken stitch, anything putting his life at stake, your mind could not rest easy. Andrea had apologised to him and even to you, but you brushed her off, too angry to hold a conversation on the topic still.

The idea of not having the archer around made your heart sink. His rough hands that you ached to hold, blue eyes that got smaller the brighter his surroundings got, the unsympathetic yet very empathic personality that made him so fucking special, and his fear of being loved which pulled you close to him. Losing Daryl Dixon would've made you wish you stayed at the CDC. That would've been the day when you wouldn't be grateful at Doctor Jenner for giving you a shot at life.

"You need to stay in bed!" Exasperated, you grabbed both of the brunette's shoulders, pushing him down on the bed. The morning of the second day after his accident, Daryl wanted to get back on his normal doings. He glared at you sideways, the corner of his mouth lifting up before he spat out the words.

"Get off my back, bitch. Don’ need ya’ pesterin’ me like you’re ma’ goddamn babysitter.” He pushed you off him with a strength he couldn't seem to control under his rage spell.  The volume of his voice grew louder by the second. “Always ´round ‘ere. Big brown eyes starin’ like I’m bein’ exhibited. I ain’t your pet. Sure as hell ain't your boyfriend.” Now on his feet, he held the bedsheets to his torso as he looked over the room for his clothes.

You stared at him, not a sign of emotion on your features, though you wished you could yell back, maybe even shed a tear or two, but you knew it would be uncalled for. Same way everything you had been doing was.

You extended your hand holding a pile of folded clothes, his folded clothes. The brunette snatched them from your grip without care, launching them onto the mattress behind him.

His body caged yours, one of his hands gripped your forearm as you were backed up into a wall. Your free hand went to rest against his bare chest, no pressure inflicted nonetheless. “Dar..” You whispered, chin pointing towards the ceiling to look into his eyes. 

“Don’ call me that like I’m your friend. Ya’ could be gone tomorrow ‘n I wouldn’t give a goddamn shit.” His grip tightened as his face inched closer to your own, so much his breath fanned over the tip of your nose. "Yer so desperate t'be loved it shows how ya never have been before, but I don't do charity, so go bother somebody else and leave me the hell alone!."

He stood like that for half a minute, keeping you in place with his hand clutching your skin tight, though his grip fell the second he noticed a hint of pain in your eyes, though you weren't sure if it was for his grip or his words, implying you weren't worthy of anything. Making you feel small. He pushed himself off you, taking a good few steps back. "Get the hell outta 'ere." He yelled, pointing with his uninjured side to the, hopefully empty, hall behind the bedroom door.

You had vanished. Completely erased yourself from existence for the rest of the day. You grabbed the pack of cigarettes you had kept after your last run, a lighter, and climbed up the tree furthest away from everyone. You sat on the wide branch with your knees to your chest, the stilled bike belonging to the man you had pestered all this time staring right back at you, yelling the same words he had hours ago. He was right, couldn´t argue against anything he said, as much as it hurt, it was the truth.

You were down to the last two tobacco sticks, an unlit one being hugged by your reddened lips from all the nervous biting. "Hard as shit lookin' for ya in this state." His grumble woke you up from your daydreaming, eyes landing right on his as you brought the fire to your cigarette. "Wha's doctor doin' with a smoke? Don' tha' kill you?" He tried to joke around after being met with radio silence on your part. Attempting to rip something out of you.

A small smile formed on your lips, shrugging. "Gonna die sooner or later." You weren´t big on it, but ever since you were sixteen cigarettes were a habit of you that was embarrassingly hard to let go of. His head was at level with your legs, you weren´t too far up and he didn't lack height. Hence why he easily reached for the last cigarette and the red lighter beside you, lighting it up swiftly.

" 'm sorry." He whispered. The view you had was one you wanted carved onto your skin. The sun setting behind the archer, his dirty blond hair being lit up by the orange beaming from the large figure. Cigarette between his lips, as well as your own, and a shy hand, going to rest on your calf in an awkward comfort-inducing mannerism he wasn´t too experienced with.

" 's fine." You smiled, hand enveloping his. "i'll get off your back."

"Don'. I like ya' pesterin' me."

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i kinda hate it but i got it done lol

Anyway, my requests are open! please leave me anything you'd want to read and with no promised deadline I'll get it done :)

[tragedynoir]

— introducing 015: PRIVATE EYE + [ link ]

a warm, nostalgic google doc template inspired by private detectives, and crime investigation! this template follows the collection of information on your muse from the lens of a private detective, through things such as letters, newspapers and official medical documents. this template features space for long writing as well! this premium template and a full page-by-page preview can be found in the link above or in the source link.

features:

8 unique 14" x 8.5" pages, all with hand-crafted full-page background images

short and long sections, an extra long backstory section, and multiple spaces for pictures

a large array of thematic page types and elements — letters, post-it notes, newspaper clippings, and evidence sheet which can be used to include ooc information or give more atmospheric depth to the template

some elements (muse pictures, text on backing post-it notes, date on envelope, and items in evidence ziploc bag) that can be customized in google drawings

terms of use:

you may edit to your heart’s desire. Change the colours, replace, add or remove elements and images etc.

you may remix pages with pages from my other templates.

you may not remove the credit from the templates.

you may not copy, sell or redistribute my templates whether wholesale, in part (i.e. taking out certain pages) or remixed (i.e. modified).

you will also receive an additional guide with images on how to use and edit google doc templates! if you have any problems or issues, feel free to leave an ask or join our discord server.

this was so much fun to make, but took so much time to put together. I'm really proud of it so I I hope you like it! as always, I appreciate all your likes + reblogs. ♡

[hazard-symbols-that-fuck-hard]

Okay time for the PBS Kids essay

Read it under the cut!

:readmore:

In 1968, before there was PBS Kids proper, there was Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood. While it came several decades before the children’s block, it laid the foundation for the themes and values present in every facet of the network’s history.

Mr. Roger famously hated children’s programming at the time. To him, it all was droll and useless. But he didn’t dissuade the medium entirely— he saw potential. Potential that led to a few smaller television jobs, and eventually the creation of Mr. Roger’s neighborhood.

Rogers didn’t invent educational TV for children, but he did perfect it. He poured real heart and soul into probably the most sincere, heartfelt program in history.

Honestly, he could have his own essay. The more things you learn about the real man of Mr. Rogers, the more you’ll like him.

Anyway, the biggest thing that makes PBS different is the fact that it earns money through grants, fundraisers, and private donors— not through sponsorships and merchandise sales. This way, PBS Kids can push programming that it feels is important, rather than programming that merely sells well.

This also means PBS is less afraid of pushing social boundaries. Money doesn’t go away when their shows become subjects of debate— and Mr. Rogers took full advantage of this.

For context, this was 1969. The Jim Crow era had just barely, barely ended. Pool segregation was still very much legal.

Mr. Rogers sharing a pool and a towel with the Black Mr. Clemmons was a pretty big deal at the time— especially on a show made for children.

Rogers was far from the untouchable sacred cow of today. When he was alive, he had a large number of detractors. Let’s just say that scene didn’t fly nicely by everyone.

Just one year after the debut of Mr. Roger’s came Sesame Street.

While Mr. Roger’s was made for all children, Sesame Street had the explicit goal of supplementing the education of underserved communities— especially inner-city Black (and later Latino) children.

While it was made to be accessible to children of all races and income levels, they definitely went the extra mile to make it something special for inner-city Black and Brown kids. (Why do you think it it’s “Sesame Street” and not “Sesame Cul-de-Sac”?)

At the time, a wholesome, sweet show set in a brownstone street was practically unheard of.

Jon Stone, the casting director, deliberately sought to make the cast as rich with color as he possibly could, bringing on a huge amount of Black talent such as Loretta Long, Matt Robinson, and Kevin Clash, as well as featuring Black celebrities as guest stars. Later, the show would expand its horizons, bringing on actors from Latino, Asian, Native American, and many more backgrounds.

White actors were and still are a minority on show.

In addition to letters and numbers, the purpose of Sesame Street is clear: make kids of color know that they’re smart, beautiful, and loved.

It doesn’t get more explicit than this.

I want to point out this comment because it’s funny

You’re telling me this bitch isn’t Hispanic???

Anyway, these two were followed up by Reading Rainbow in 1983. And guess what?

That’s right. Non-white focus.

These three shows, (along with other, lesser-known programs like Lamb-Chops Play Along, Newton’s Apple, and Shining Times Station (who featured Ringo Starr himself?? seriously how did that happen and why does no one talk about it) and some other nostalgic favorites like Bill Nye the Science guy, The Magic Schoolbus, Arthur, and Thomas the Tank Engine) aired on the new PTV block, which evolved into PBS Kids in 1999, bringing along Between the Lions, Dragon Tales, and many more.

Arthur is another stand-out that I’d like to talk about— it doesn’t have the same racial focus of Sesame Street, but it does focus on different income levels. The characters have various housing situations, from apartments to mansions to no home at all.

It also takes cues from Sesame Street and Mr. Roger’s in regards to talking about tough topics, though as Arthur has a slightly older target audience, it discusses things through stories rather than talking directly to the audience.

Cancer, religion, workplace discrimination, along with current (at the time) events such as 9/11 and Hurricane Katrina are all discussed on the show.

Another big focus on Arthur is disability. For once, they don’t stick a character in a wheelchair and then pretend he’s not in a wheelchair. A striking number of major characters either develop or get diagnosed with physical disabilities and/or neurodivergences, such as asthma, severe food allergies, and dyslexia, and they deal with them in very realistic ways.

A handful of minor characters have more obvious disabilities, and THANK GOD they go beyond the trite messaging of “disabled people can do everything abled people can do! everyone clap now!”

One episode in particular has the awesome message of “holy shit stop trying to help me all the time— it’s patronizing as fuck. I can get around just fine without you stepping on eggshells and trying to be the hero all the fucking time”

There are sooo many other shows I could talk about, but I can’t write about them all. I’m definitely gonna point out some more standout ones, though.

Sagwa, the Chinese Siamese Cat

Created by Chinese-American woman Amy Tang

Dragonfly TV

Features a multitude of female and non-white scientists to foster an interest in science with kids in those groups

Maya & Miguel

One of the network’s first Hispanic-led shows

SciGirls

I shouldn’t have to explain what the goal of this one was.

Molly of Denali

When was the last time you saw a show that treated Native Americans as people? Much less a children’s show? 90% of the cast is Athabascan, and the show revolves around Athabascan culture, not shying away from topics like boarding schools and modern-day racism. Most of the writers are also Athabascan, and the show even has an official Gwich’in dub!

It’s this commitment to real, authentic social justice that makes PBS Kids so much different from its competitors. Could you imagine the Paw Patrol dog looking at the camera and earnestly discussing what happened to George Floyd? I don’t think so— but Arthur talked specifically about it, Sesame Street did an hour long special about race in general, and the network itself made a 30 minute special.

Disney Jr. could never. (Other than trying to teach colorblindness, of course.)

I’m gonna have to cut this into two parts, since I just hit the image limit

[themilfsland]

Here we go again | chapter 1

Pairing(s): Wanda Maximoff X female!reader

Summary: Your best friend convinces you to join a girls’ trip to celebrate your graduation and escape from life’s worries. It seems like the perfect plan — until your past comes back to greet you.

Words count: 2.4k

tags: none

A/n: first chapter, here we go :P

fic menu | chapter 2

The long-awaited new phase of your life has arrived – adulthood after graduation. You imagined so many great possibilities that could happen, but the truth is, you felt lost and afraid. Maybe everyone goes through this, right?

Sure, you were proud of yourself. Over the past few years, you moved to a different country, graduated from a prestigious university, and grew both personally and professionally. Despite all these remarkable achievements, you still didn’t feel good enough.

"The American Dream" might just be a tale for those clinging to hope or perhaps for young dreamers eager to conquer the world. Truth be told, you only wanted one thing—to land your dream job right after graduation. How naive it was to believe that companies would be waiting for you the moment you earned your degree. In reality, it’s you knocking on their doors, almost pleading for a chance—because adulthood isn’t fair.

And here you are, lying on the couch with a tub of ice cream, hoping that this sugar rush will give your body a little more energy. The sound of the TV hums in the background, a sign that something is still playing, but you lost interest in watching it a long time ago.

The sound of a notification on your phone pulled your focus back to the present. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was really worth checking, but deep down, your curiosity gave you the final push. With a sigh, you unlocked the screen.

It was an email. A response from another company you had sent your resume to. Nothing new. Apparently, every company in the world already has enough employees, and there’s no room for you. You let out a heavy sigh of frustration and tossed your phone away on the couch.

Honestly? What am I doing wrong? You asked yourself. Your academic life had always been exemplary—high grades, extra assignments, articles written, everything you could do in college, you did. Maybe you made a mistake from the very beginning. Perhaps your past self never considered the reality of adult life and how difficult it would be to try everything new in a new place.

You felt a tightness in your chest as you thought of home. The fresh air and the sun warming your skin—that was the calm you needed right now. The fresh food and fruits you bought every morning at the market by the sea—you closed your eyes, trying to recall the images of those places in your memory. A nostalgic feeling washed over you, making you forget the difficult experiences you’d had in the past—some of which, to this day, you were sure hadn’t fully healed.

Your eyes were starting to water, and you felt a lump in your throat—almost on the verge of drowning in tears. But you had to push all those overwhelming emotions down in less than five seconds when you heard the apartment door open—Yelena.

"Oh no, there's still a dead body on my couch," she said, dropping her keys on the table and heading toward you.

"It's not just 'your' couch, it's 'our' couch, it's 'our' apartment. I demand more respect," you shot back; she always jokes about this, and you never let it go.

"Okay, okay, it's our apartment, but honestly, you're not in any position to demand anything from me. Look at you, y/n!! You're worse than I am on my bad days." She grabbed the tub of ice cream you were holding. "When was the last time you took a shower?"

"Shut up, Yelena! You saw me go to the bathroom and take a shower this morning before leaving. You're overreacting. Just let me enjoy my life complaints," you tried to grab the tub back, but she held on tighter.

"No. I can't tolerate this anymore," she said in a serious tone, standing up to place the ice cream on the table. "I've given you more than enough time to pull yourself together, and I completely respect that you need time to get your thoughts in order. But now, it's time to start taking the first steps after the defeat." She sat down beside you on the couch.

"So you agree that I failed? It's the end of my career, my defeat," you said, knowing you were exaggerating, but you chose to make a dramatic scene anyway.

"If you keep exaggerating like this, I’m going to give myself the right to exaggerate my actions too, and don't complain when I hit you," she said, flashing a wicked grin.

"Why are you always so aggressive?" you rolled your eyes.

"It’s my love language. And speaking of that, I have plans to make you feel better—it's the best I could come up with," she said with a mischievous smile.

"Should I be afraid to ask what you're plotting?" you crossed your arms and sat in a better position to hear what your friend had to say.

"And should I question why you always doubt my ideas?" she raised an eyebrow and continued, "Anyway, I was thinking we should take a girls' trip together." She flashed you a big smile.

"What???" your words slipped out without thinking.

"Exactly what you heard. Let’s go on a trip, clear our minds, and get some fresh air. And before you start giving me all the reasons not to go, I’ll give you one to convince you—it’s because we deserve it. You just wrapped up a major chapter in your life, and so did I. Come on, it’ll be good for both of us."

Yelena wasn’t wrong, and you knew she was suggesting this with good intentions—not just for some fun, but especially to help you feel better. You rested your head against the back of the couch, your eyes staring at the ceiling. A wave of gratitude washed over you. You were so lucky to have her as your best friend, even though she was crazy most of the time. You still remember finding her number in a university group chat. You were desperate for a place to stay, and she was looking for someone to share the rent—perfect timing. Despite studying different degrees, the two of you became inseparable.

"So...?" you felt her squeeze your arm.

"Hmm, okay, that sounds like an interesting idea. Where would we go?"

"Perfect!!!" she jumped on the couch, excited. "We're going to Greece!!"

"What?? Are you crazy? No way, there are so many other places in the world, why there??" your voice was raised in disbelief.

"I knew you'd react like this, but this time it's your fault. If you hadn't shown me all those beautiful pictures of where you grew up and if you hadn't complained so much about the beaches here in California," she crossed her arms, but you were still in denial about everything she was saying.

"That doesn't make sense, and besides, I never complained that much about the beaches here," you replied, still not fully convinced.

"I never complained about the beaches here," she repeated your words in a mocking tone. "So, I must have been hearing things when you said, 'Ugh, this isn’t real seawater,' or 'The sand isn’t soft and clean,' or 'The breeze here messes up my hair.' Should I keep going?"

"NO!" you shouted loudly and threw a cushion at her. "You're terrible, Yelena." You sat back down at the edge of the couch. "Greece is a nice place, but I wouldn't want to go back there." Your words were sincere this time.

"Hey, I know that, and if you really say the last 'no', then we won’t go there," she adjusted herself, sitting beside you. "But I want you to know that aside from me dreaming of going there, I also think it would do you good." She held your hand, and you both locked eyes. "I’ve heard so many stories about how that place gave you good memories. Maybe it’s exactly what you need right now. A place to feel comfortable—at home."

"I understand, but you know, that place isn’t my home anymore," you gave a small smile, and she understood exactly what you meant.

"I know. You've told me about your mom's passing, your difficult relationship with your dad, and your decision to leave," her look was full of sympathy. "I remember everything you've shared with me, and because of that, I can say you're reluctant for another reason. Am I wrong?"

"What? Of course not!" you replied too quickly, and she noticed.

"Uh-huh, so you know exactly what I'm referring to. Anyway, the past stays in the past, and the future belongs to the future. As for the present, it's up to you now. So, shall we have some fun?"

Yelena was right. As surprising as that might be, this time, you had to agree with her. You'd been a mess lately, with no motivation and no hope for better days. Maybe that's exactly what you need right now—distraction, allowing yourself to live with a bit more fun. After all, you both needed to celebrate your graduation in some way.

"Hmm, okay, I can accept, but with one condition."

"Ugh, you’re so difficult. What’s the condition?"

"We can go to Greece, but under no circumstances are we going to my hometown."

She let out a laugh and stood up, positioning herself in front of you. "You know I'm crazy, but not that crazy. I know my limits." She grabbed your hand and pulled you up. "Come on, we have a suitcase to pack!"

"Now? Wait, Yelena!!" you complained as she started pulling you toward the bedrooms.

"Yes, silly. We’re leaving this weekend!"

"What does that mean?" you made her stop and stared at her. "Wait a minute, this was already all planned! How? How did you know I was going to say yes???"

"I know you," she winked. "By the way, I'm really good at persuasion."

You looked at her in disbelief, your hand reaching for her arm, but she was quicker, darting into the bedroom and dodging your slap. You chased after her, shouting her name.

----

You heard Yelena groan for the tenth time.

"Seriously? Why didn’t they make the streets wider for cars to pass? Or any kind of vehicle? My feet are dying," she let out a tired sigh, panting slightly.

"That would ruin the beauty of the place, and even if the streets were wider, there are too many stairs everywhere," you laughed, amused by your friend's struggle. "And you didn’t want to listen when I told you to bring a small, light suitcase. Now deal with carrying your own choices."

Yelena was about to snap back when she spotted a sign on one of the buildings indicating the hotel’s name. "Finally!!! It’s right there!" she said, pointing and quickening her pace. "Come on, y/n, why are you dragging your feet and slowing us down?!" You both laughed as you followed her.

---

You stepped into the reception area, and the first thing you noticed was how cozy the place felt. It seemed like it had once been a grand residence, now transformed into a hotel. To the right, a staircase led to a slightly elevated floor where the hall lounge was, with armchairs and sofas scattered around. To the left, a large window let in the soft daylight and a gentle breeze through the curtains, revealing a breathtaking view of the sea in the background—so perfect it looked like a painted picture. And straight ahead was the reception desk, where another couple was being attended to.

"Look at this view, wow!" Yelena said, walking toward the window and practically dropping her bags on the floor. "It’s even more perfect than the photos you used to show me."

"Of course, it's even better," you said, playfully bumping your shoulder against hers. "And it's even more amazing when you can feel the breeze against your hair and the sun warming your skin."

"You sound like a silly girl in a romantic movie," she laughed, heading toward the counter to wait for the check-in. You could hear her voice in the background, probably talking about the plans she had for later, but you weren’t focused on her words. You closed your eyes and let out a long sigh—it felt like home.

Then you opened your eyes, and your gaze settled on the person behind the counter—the hotel employee. Her skin seemed to glow where the sunlight touched it, strands of blonde hair like sand falling gently over her shoulder, swaying softly with the breeze. Those greenish eyes, that smile, and that smooth voice— oh no.

"No, no, no," you kept repeating in your head, and for a moment, you probably forgot how to breathe. Your thoughts pulled you straight back to the past.

--

A new coffee shop had opened. Not only the locals but also the tourists were talking about how great the place was. You had heard that the business belonged to a new family who had just moved in—you wondered why they had chosen this particular place. Probably a business-minded family looking to profit.

Either way, there you were, in line to place your order. You already knew you’d be getting the house’s special coffee—you were curious to find out what made it so special. But when it came to food, you were still torn between the cheesecake and the strawberry pie, both looking absolutely delicious.

You were next in line, and your nerves were starting to get the best of you—why was it so hard to make a decision? Then your eyes landed on the girl behind the counter. Her messy blonde braid, glowing skin and striking green eyes caught your attention. Everything about her was perfect, from her lips to the way she smiled. She was absolutely beautiful.

"Hii, how can I help you?" she said in a soft tone. You snapped out of your thoughts, her gaze now locked onto yours.

--

"Y/n??? Are you listening to me?" Yelena gave your arm a little squeeze, pulling you back to reality. "I can't believe you didn’t hear a word I said."

But before you could explain yourself or she could give you another lecture, you heard that same soft voice that had lived in your memory.

"Hii, how can I help you?" the girl behind the reception counter now directed her attention to both of you.

You ignored the last words of your friend, turning to face forward. Your gaze met hers—it is her. You had no doubt about it—it's her, right in front of you, it's her—Wanda.

"Oh no, here we go again," the voice of your conscience echoed in your head.

Taglist:

@starrycherie ; @raven-ss

[xoxoaugust]

holidays

pro footballer!rin itoshi x childhoodbsf!reader

now playing : holidays by Conan Gray

-▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| 0:10

years have passed since the two of you have seen each other

December 23rd, 2023

You have just landed at the airport, frankly exhausted and drained. Visiting home for the holidays after maybe five years of being away for school, now work. You called your mom, telling her that you’ll be home in a bit since you had just landed.

Tightening your coat around you, you walked out of the airport to find your uber to finally take you home. Sniffling a bit from the cold and taking in the scenery, your mind drifts off to old memories. Snowball fights and putting up wreaths, you really missed it, you missed being a naive little kid.

Your nostalgic break was interrupted by your uber, which finally pulled up to take you home. Staring out the window, you would mentally point out buildings that you remembered from five years ago. Your school, your favorite store, favorite restaurants. You snapped out of the daze you were in and checked your phone for any texts. It was around midnight so you assumed there wouldn’t be any, but unbeknownst to you, a text from an unexpected send would be waiting for you.

12:47 AM

no caller ID

Hey, is this y/n?

You

Who is this??

no caller ID

I don’t think I need to say, I just need to know if this is y/n

You

Then you don’t get to know if this y/n

no caller ID

This is Rin Itoshi.

You

Rin???

Rin Itoshi

Yes?? Can I know if this is y/n now?

You

Yes it’s me, it’s been a while! I haven’t seen you in ages

Rin Itoshi

Yeah I know, I wanted to ask if you’re back in town for holiday season

You

Yeah I am, im gonna be here for around two weeks!

Rin Itoshi

I’m here for two weeks too, we should catch up soon

You

Of course! Let me know if you have a place to go!

Rin Itoshi

👍

You caught yourself smiling at your phone, same old Rin.

You still remember how your childhood best friend was then, and he hasn’t changed. The same considerate nature, the cold demeanor hasn’t changed but his heart was always in the right place. He was always thinking of others, he was the first to remember what people liked and disliked.

In elementary school, people thought he was weird. Falling over on purpose, for fun? Or maybe attention? It was weird, but you didn’t care. You would fall over with him, you would give him bandaids, making sure you always had matching bandaids. You watched him play soccer with his brother, in awe of his talent. You were his number one supporter through and through. The two of you always got popsicles together, that was your favorite thing to do after every hangout. Rin treasures those memories, getting popsicles with you and his older brother.

In middle school/junior high, the two of you got even closer, inseparable even. Everyday after school, the two of you would go off and do whatever. Get food, play soccer, stop by that one cafe that served the coffee that was too bitter for the two of you, so you’d end up getting hot chocolate and writing latte on the cup. Those were the days you’d never forget. You remember going to the airport with Rin to say goodbye to Sae. You also remember how Rin’s face was dull afterwards, so you took him to get popsicles. That’s when you vowed to yourself that you would never let him feel sad like that again.

Come high school, things hadn’t changed between you two, until Sae’s return. Prior to Sae’s return, you would hangout after school at the fields to help him get better at soccer, then go to his house so he could get changed, then go to the cafe so you could “study”. You always had to order for him because he was always too tired to say anything to anyone other than you. Then he would complain about the coffee being too bitter and tasting weird. You would roll your eyes and tell him to order something else, but he never did. That was your little routine everyday for about a year, until Sae. One day he had told you that we would be practicing a little extra that day so you should just wait at the cafe. You waited maybe two hours before deciding to go to the field to make sure he’s okay. News flash, he was far from okay. As you approached the field, you saw two figures conversing. It didn’t take you a while to realize it was Sae, you had grown up with him so you knew it was him. You looked at Rin directly, an unusual distressed look on his face. Before you could move any further, Sae started dribbling the ball to the goal. You watched the situation unfold before your eyes in horror. The defeated look on Rin’s face made it a thousand times worse. You watched Sae walk away, leaving Rin on the ground in shambles. Within seconds, you were on the field in front of Rin, trying to comfort him, trying to make him laugh or smile in any way. He didn’t smile, or laugh at all, he didn’t smile or laugh as much onwards. Your daily hangouts went from fun and laughter and conversation, to just soccer. You missed your Rin a lot, but you knew that he needed someone to rely on. You were always there to listen to what he had to say or complain about. It wasn’t long before he was offered a spot at Blue Lock, and you were off to college. You hadn’t kept in touch, mostly because he wasn’t allowed a phone and you had changed your number since then, plus you went to college in London m. It had been five whole years since you two had spoken, at all.

Your daydreaming was cut short when the Uber had finally pulled up to your driveway. You thanked the driver and grabbed your luggage. Taking in the reality that you’re actually back home, you smiled seeing how everything is just as you left it. You sighed contently, your breath visible due to the crisp cold weather outside. Walking up to the steps of your front patio, you felt warm inside. Everything was blissful as it was, just like when you were younger. Ringing the doorbell, your mother opened the door excitedly, ushering you inside. Though it was your first time back home in a while, your family had come to visit you a few times since you were too busy to go visit them, but it had still been a while since you had seen them. You sat down on the couch in the living room, a cup of hot cocoa in your hands (courtesy of your mother) catching up with your siblings. It was maybe 2:15 AM when you had said goodnight and went to your room. Your room was the same, nothing was moved, definitely cleaned but not moved. You placed your bags in the corner of your room, deciding to take a quick shower after smelling yourself. The ‘quick shower’ was 45 minutes. You got dressed and flopped onto your bed, slightly sore from the uncomfortable plane seats. You picked up your phone to place it on the charger.

3:04 AM

Rin

Hey, does Cherrywood work for tomorrow?

You

Yes! What time do you prefer?

Rin

Does 3:30 work for you? I know you’ll be tired from jet lag.

You

Yes that works! I will see you then, bye!!

Rin

Bye :)

You smiled at your phone before setting it down on the bedside table and falling fast asleep.

That same morning, you woke up around 11:30 AM. The exhaustion in your body had left, but you were physically sore. You mustered the energy to get up and make a coffee and a light breakfast, knowing that you would meet with Rin soon for a late lunch anyway.

You noticed the extra energy you were spending on getting ready. The strong perfume you had applied, remembering that Rin liked strong and bold perfumes. The extra jewelry and effort into your look was evident. You weren’t doing it for him, not for attention or anything, it was for you. You and Rin were eerily similar but just as different. You liked soccer, so did he, but he was obsessed with it. He liked strong perfumes very much, and so did you. It wasn’t liking something because someone likes it, but finding common ground and interest with a close friend.

The clock struck three o’clock and you got into your car, driving towards the place you knew oh so well. Having thirty minutes of leeway, you knew you only really had fifteen, because Rin was never late, on the contrary he was always too early for his own good. You finally reached the little cafe and parked in the spot right next to your favorite cherry blossom tree, it wasn’t in bloom but it still looked beautiful. Staring at the big sign at the front labeled Cherrywood, you smiled to yourself, memories flushing back to you.

Cherrywood Cafe was yours, and Rin’s. It was the cafe you had always gone to, everyday. You had made so many memories there, the owners knew you by name and order, they always thought you were a couple. You still remember the times Rin would surprised you on your birthday with a little set up at the cafe. Good times.

You walked inside, the owner recognized you instantly.

“Oh my goodness! You have grown so much my dear!”

You loved that sweet old lady, she was the cutest thing to ever exist.

“Come come, your boy is waiting for you.”

You instantly felt the warmth creep up to your cheeks, because you knew exactly who she was talking about. She dragged you over to the table in the corner with the large window, which had little succulents on the sill. There he was, Rin Itoshi in all his glory. He stared at you with so much intensity you thought you would puke. He stood up to greet you, well he got tall.

“Oh! Hello, it’s nice to see you.”

Well he is awkward as always.

“It’s nice to see you too Rin.” You gleamed.

The two of you sat down in awkward silence for a bit, and the food had arrived before you started the conversation.

“So how have you been, I know you’re a big shot soccer player now, how’s that going for you?” You smiled.

“It’s great honestly, not too bad, minus the paparazzi.” He said with a blank stare.

You nodded in acknowledgment, the silence was slowly creeping back in.

“How about you? What do you do now?” He asked.

“I am a physical therapist, I just completed my clinical studies. I had my white coat ceremony a while back, now im in the field. I actually get a lot of athletes, I think I met a friend of yours.” You rambled.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Who did you meet?” He asked, it felt more like an interview.

“He was eccentric for sure, I think his name was…Shidou im not sure it was a while back.”

He stared at you, mouth agape. You stared back with a puzzled look on your face.

“Did I say something wrong?” You questioned

He sighed before starting.

“It pains me that you think that he is my friend, I would never, and I mean never, consider him my friend.”

That statement elicited a chuckle from you.

“And why is that?”

He frowned.

“You met him, he’s such an odd person.”

You laughed even harder.

“Yeah I noticed he has an obsession with Sae.”

You didn’t know what you were starting. It was like Rin was waiting for this moment his entire life.

“Right? It’s so…odd. If you like a person and you think they are talented, don’t start jumping on them and saying odd shit, on live television too. He is a PR nightmare.” He rambled on about how weird Shidou was.

You don’t think you had laughed at someone complaining this hard. Somewhere in the ramble, Rin laughed a bit too. When he finally stopped, you were still laughing, he was then just staring at you. He was too busy listening to your laugh.

“Wow you have the same laugh from when we little.”

Well that caught your attention.

“Really?” You replied

He nodded with a small smile on his face.

“It’s nice to see you haven’t changed much.” He continued.

You smiled, not knowing how to respond. He was never one to be super nice, just respectful enough to get by. You would be lying if you said you didn’t like him, and his compliments.

“You changed for the better, you’re smiling more.” You complimented back.

His smile slightly fell, your smile also fell when you noticed.

“Keep smiling, it suits you.” You quickly added before finishing the last bite on your plate.

Rin had always been ghastly pale. Even being an athlete, he was very fair and it was probably one of his biggest social weaknesses. This is because, his face would turn bright red at any given moment, he could be embarrassed, shy, angry, surprised and everyone could tell, because his face had changed colors. He tried to cover it up, but as you said that, his face instantly turned pink. You pretended to not notice so he could save face but it was no use. You giggled a bit, slightly poking fun at him.

You two finally finished your lunch, getting up to pay for the meal, you insisted on paying. As you went to give your card, Rin snatched it from you and gave his instead. He handed the card to you, not uttering a single word. Walking out of the cafe side by side, he broke the silence.

“I had fun, we should stay in touch.”

“I did too, and we should, let me know if you’re ever in London.” You nudged his shoulder.

“I will I promise.” He held out his pinky, securing it with yours. He hesitated before continuing.

“You should come to one of my games, I’ll seat you in VIP.”

You looked at him, surprised and giddy.

“Oh my gosh Rin id love to see one of your games!”

He smiled, blushing furiously, he was so glad it was cold outside.

You guys parted ways again, but not for long. You texted everyday, called frequently even on busy days. You stayed in touch, a little too much maybe. When he played a game in London, you attended, sitting in the nice VIP front seat. He kept glancing your way, trying not to make it obvious so the media wouldn’t get any ideas, he already had plans to ask you out, he didn’t want rumors to ruin that.

When he won the game (obviously) he met with his team and then quickly ran over to you, telling you to meet him outside the stadium in the staff parking lot.

You stood there for maybe 15 minutes, waiting for Rin in front of his car. Then, a pair of hands came up and covered your eyes. A smile adorned your face, knowing exactly who it was. It was a bit out of character for him, but you weren’t complaining. When he lifted his hands off your eyes, you finally turned around, looking straight at Rin, who had a small bouquet of your favorite flowers, and a small box. He looked handsome as ever. You gasped, mouth agape, you didn’t know what to say. So you didn’t say anything, instead you instantly leapt forward and kissed him. You have been waiting for this moment for god knows how long. You felt Rin’s arms pulling you into a hug, you could tell he’s been waiting for this too. When you pulled away, he gestured you to open the small velvet box in his hand. You smiled at him before taking the box and opening it. Inside was a beautiful charm bracelet, and a ring with white and teal crystals on it. You were speechless, you didn’t think this day could get any better, until he pulled the sleeve of his shirt up, revealing a matching bracelet and ring on his hand. You hugged him so tight he couldn’t breathe properly for a bit, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He was living his dream now, dream job and dream soulmate.

And it wasn’t long before you and Rin had to switch those matching rings for another set, this one had diamonds though.

xoxo, august

[lay-z]

🎀 Day 16 – Driving home for Christmas

A continuation of 🍷 Day 8 – Dinner time, which means it’s set in the same universe!

Synopsis: When Christmas comes around again, it’s Kyle this time around who asks his Captain if he can come over for dinner.

Pairing: husband!John Price x wife!Reader x Kyle Gaz Garrick Warnings/Info: NSFW, 18+ | Kyle's POV; curvy!pregnant!Reader (some physical descriptions); dom!Price; hurt/comfort; breeding kink; pregnant sex/pregnancy kink; objectification; threesome; unprotected sex; choking; fluff/aftercare

Word count: 3.2k

↳ back to 🎅🏼 Masterlist ☃️

Kyle feels like he’s having a very vivid déjà-vu. 

When he raises his fist and knocks on the heavy cedar wood door, flashbacks of last year’s Christmas Eve are triggered and playing in front of his inner eye as he glances up at the Christmas lights and decorations adorning Price's large house.  

Flashbacks and memories that leave his face burning despite the biting cold nipping at his skin and, admittedly, his cock stirring hotly in his chic beige pants. 

He hasn’t seen you since the summer, roughly five months ago, when Price had invited the team and Laswell for a barbecue in his backyard. The moment you'd stolen him away for a quick make out session in the laundry room after the Captain, standing by the grill, had given his blessing with a curt nod, was the last time someone else had touched him intimately.  

And now, Kyle still catches himself having a desperate wank to the phantom feeling of your delicate hand wrapped around his throbbing prick and your wonderful lips against  his sensitive neck, whispering sweet praises into his ear like you did way back in the laundry room in your perfect house all while your husband (and his boss) knew what was happening. And every time, Kyle spills his load all over his own calloused knuckles with a pathetic whine, wishing they were yours instead.

Oh, bloody fucking hell, he’s such a goner for you. 

His jaw ticks as he clenches his teeth, swallowing thickly; dark eyes zeroed in on the front door while his other fist tightens around the expensive bottle of red wine he brought for you. 

Kyle checks the time on his Rolex. 17:56 p.m., punctual as always. 

He tugs on his winter coat before adjusting the front of his pants once more; uncomfortable to stand in front of the threshold of another man’s house, obviously bricked up for said man’s wife before he even gets the chance to say his greetings. 

When the door opens eventually, Kyle’s heart is already thudding harshly against his ribcage with a mixture of anticipation and excitement, though it stutters briefly when he is greeted by Captain Price’s mug instead of yours. 

“Garrick,” the older man greets curtly, steel blue eyes flickering to glance past the Sergeant briefly.

And Kyle knows that look too well, knows his Captain is being extra vigilant for some reason, sweeping the perimeter, even though it’s his own estate and if someone else were to be around, his security system would surely pick up on it. Still, due to their jobs and shared experiences, both men know to never get too comfortable.

Eventually, Price opens the front door wider and steps aside in a non-verbal invitation, “Good to see you, Sergeant.” 

“Thank you, sir. Likewise,” Kyle replies, straightening his shoulders as he walks into the entry hallway past his Captain, who immediately closes and locks the front door behind them once more. 

The house smells heavenly, like freshly baked cookies, spices and some kind of roasted meat, mixed with the natural smells of your home. It's a concoction of scents that nearly leaves Kyle feeling both nostalgic and yearning. 

“Bird’s in the living room, lad,” Price says with his usual gruffness yet underlying care as Kyle hangs up his coat on the vintage rack. “I know she’s been looking forward to seeing you again.” 

And Kyle has been looking forward to see you, too. More than he’s comfortable to admit. 

“Here,” Kyle says, offering the bottle of red wine for the other man to take with his chest puffed out proudly, because he remembered that like a good, obedient soldier would. “You told me she prefers red.”  

He watches in confusion as his Captain’s eyes crinkle in the corners, crow’s feet appearing as he looks at the bottle in the Sergeant's hands in what can only be described as amusement before accepting it eventually with a gruff chuckle and a firm clap on the younger man's shoulder. 

“Aye, lad, that’s very thoughtful of ya.” 

Kyle does find you in the living room, wearing a tight black knitted dress, curled up in the loveseat in the corner next to the old bookshelf that looks quite Cold War-esque and the large, classically decorated Christmas tree, with a pale blue hardcover book in your lap and a steaming cuppa on the small side table next to the sofa. 

Even without the fairy lights illuminating you from behind, you look radiant, like you’re glowing from the inside out, and something in his heart aches, deep behind his chest – something dangerous and exhilarating that takes his breath away momentarily. 

Once you notice the familiar, young man standing frozen in place in the open doorway to the living room, your eyes light up, a breath-taking smile spreading on your lips. “Hello, soldier,” you chirp and bookmark the page you’re on before closing the book.  

“Hello, princess.” He replies softly, cheeks heating up even more at the sound of your voice greeting him so happily.

And while Kyle tries and fails to catch the cover and title of the book as you put it aside, he does notice the way you untuck your tight-clad legs from under yourself with a soft groan before heaving yourself up and out of the loveseat with a sudden struggle which he doesn’t quite understand. 

His brows furrow in concern, attentive eyes scanning your body as you adjust your dress around your shoulders. “How have you been?” He asks, taking a few measured steps towards you. 

“Oh,” you giggle softly, eyes twinkling with mirth and that familiar gentleness as you watch Kyle approach, “I’ve been… well.” 

Then, you make a tiny gesture that makes everything click into place for the Sergeant at once. You caress the top of your belly lovingly while supporting it with the other, and suddenly, Kyle notices the prominent bump that was initially concealed by the black fabric of your dress and the veil of his metaphorical rose-coloured glasses. 

His heart nearly stops in his chest, auburn eyes widening comically and he stops dead in his tracks while something strange starts happening in his brain, like its most primal and savage parts are being stimulated for the first time in his life.

“Congratulations,” Kyle manages to say, cracking a smile, though his voice is too rough, too breathless for his own liking. “You look lovely, sweetheart.” Breathtakingly beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous. He could go on, but chooses not to.

You’re pregnant. Pregnant. Very, very pregnant, and fertile.  

And it is all Kyle can focus on for the rest of the evening. He’s embarrassingly hard during dinner, while he watches his rough and tough, stoic Captain dote on you like the loving husband he is. Everything makes so much sense now, too; why Price had taken more leave in the past couple of months than he ever has in his whole bloody career, giving up more responsibilities to Ghost, his second-in-command, and being even more secretive and guarded about his personal life. 

The longer he stays and is forced to watch the happy couple, the more envious he becomes.

It’s a mean feeling that takes root in his heart, poisoning it slowly like the black plague; squeezing and mocking all while he can simply blame himself, because he was the one who’d asked to come over this time.

He wasn’t invited which makes him he’s an intruder, and it’s starting to show in the way Price keeps whispering sweet nothing’s into your ear while he sits next to you on the loveseat in the living room, after moving back there once dinner was finished and the table was cleared. Now, Kyle can only watch how his Captain coddles his gorgeous wife; kissing your temple and rubbing his big hand over the swell of your pregnant belly possessively, as if his Sergeant isn’t currently sitting in the armchair right across from you.

Kyle realizes begrudgingly and with a stabbing ache in his heart that the times, when his Captain would let him have a small taste of heaven, of you, are over. It’s too sudden, too soul-crushing, like a band aid ripped away too swiftly and taking bits of hair and scabs with it, though it should have been foreseeable from the beginning.

It wasn’t supposed to last, anyway.

His heart clenches painfully as he makes the rash decision to simply slip away, leave you two be while he will go on his merry way to drown his sorrows and loneliness in some cheap liquor. And when Kyle catches the sound of your soft giggles once more, elicited by Price who nuzzles into your neck affectionately in a way that has Kyle’s cock chuffing even worse, his legs start developing a mind of their own and he stands up from his seat at once.

Of course, it only catches their attention and an awkward silence ensues. 

The Sergeant clears his dry throat, shifting on his feet uncharacteristically insecure. “I should head out,” he announces, glancing down at his expensive watch. It’s barely past 8 p.m. “–while I can still drive.” He adds with a forced chuckle. Kyle made the conscious decision not to drink as much as last year in case you–No, no he really shouldn’t go there. 

However, before Kyle can say his thanks and bid his goodbyes, you and Price share a look that the younger man has seen before, and then the Captain gets out of the loveseat with an old-manly grunt.  

“Nonsense, Garrick,” he objects gruffly, making a dismissive hand gesture as he walks past Kyle over to his vintage liquor cabinet. “We’re having another drink.” 

Then, there is the distinct sound of clinking glasses, the unscrewing of a bottle and the gluck gluck gluck of liquid as said glasses are filled while Kyle furrows his brows, glancing over his shoulder at his Captain’s broad back before his eyes shift back over to you, sitting oh so prettily as you blink up at him with your beautifully bright doe-eyes and another tooth-achingly sweet smile before you shift and go on to push yourself up from your seat. 

And right when Kyle wants to rush to your aid, Price stops him by clasping a hand over his broad shoulder, offering a glass full of strong, amber liquor as he leans in to murmur into Kyle’s ear in a way that makes his skin pebble with goose bumps: “Isn’t she gorgeous, lad?”

Yes, yes, you’re gorgeous. Bloody perfect.

Especially now, sprawled out on your marital bed in the master bedroom while Kyle watches you get eaten out by your husband as if the latter is feasting on his last meal.

Your radiant body arches and stretches on the mattress; all soft lines and feminine curves while your round baby bump keeps drawing his gaze in like the most beautiful sight Kyle has ever been allowed to see. Your breasts are larger; your nipples and areolas a shade darker in contrasts to your glowing skin, and he can’t wait to trail his fingertips along the faint stretch marks along your hips and up your belly. It’s mesmerising. You are mesmerising, absolutely breath-taking.

The whole situation feels much more intimate than the first time last year, too, when the Captain had talked you into fucking the stress and sadness out of his Sergeant’s system, and then the stolen moments of sweet passion that had followed in between whenever he was lucky enough to see you. Always just you and Kyle while Price had given his blessings upfront. Now, though, now the latter is actively participating, and Kyle is trying to figure out his role in this. Less an intruder, but still not wholly part of it all, he figures.

The cries of pleasure which your husband is eliciting from you, eventually pull Kyle out of his stupor and he watches as you shudder and tremble with another intense climax before you mewl and paw at Price’s shoulders with panting breaths, trying to either nudge him away or get him even closer, and the latter pushes himself up on his elbows before sitting back on his haunches, still fully clothed while Kyle was ordered to strip down to his underwear.

“Please–” You whimper and hiccup breathlessly in a way that makes Kyle wince when his cock throbs and twitches painfully in his boxer briefs.

Price chuckles as he licks your arousal from his lips before bringing his hand up to wipe at his mouth. “Use your words, m’love. We’ve already been through this so many times, no?”

You nod eagerly as you swallow thickly, and Kyle can see the gloss of tears in your eyes. He wants to kiss them away, needs to keep overstimulating you all the same to coax more of those saccharine sounds from you, determined to make more memories he can feed on to get him through another year, most likely longer (perhaps forever), of withdrawal from you.

“Garrick,” Price barks and makes a sharp gesture with his hand before scooting away from between your legs, creating more space. “You’re going to fuck my pregnant wife now.”

Kyle’s stomach drops into an open pit for a split second, though the clear order given by his superior does make his heart rate exhilarate and his cock leak even worse in his underwear. His eyes flicker nervously between Price and you, until you reach your hand out to him with half-lidded eyes, a sweet smile and small nod.

And it’s all the encouragement Kyle needs, before he answers with a curt, determined: “Yes, sir.”

However, when Kyle reaches for the condom he’d placed on the nightstand buoyantly, Price clicks his tongue in disdain. “No need for that, lad,” he assures him, “not this time.”

Then, you chime in so sweetly, telling him that it’s okay, that you want to feel him without any barrier, and Kyle’s brain blanks as he positions himself on his knees between your legs; caressing and groping your supple thighs, a full-body shudder wrecking through him at the first touch of your skin after months of being deprived of it.

He grasps his cock at the base, drags his weeping cockhead through your pretty, glistening folds, coating his length in your syrupy slick while gripping your hip with his other hand before guiding his thick tip to your entrance and pushing in slowly, feeling your velvety walls clench and squeeze around him while he sinks his cock deeper, and then, all the air rushes from his lungs with a drawn-out, breathless groan as Kyle finally comes home again.

“That’s it.” Price’s voice coos gruffly, and Kyle can feel the mattress shift behind him before warm, calloused palms trail along his toned sides and settling on his waist with a tight hold, and his dark eyes widen in surprise as he stares down at you, gorgeously spread open and taking his cock like you were made for him, too.

This definitely never happened before, Price joining in like this, but when you continue to mewl for more while nudging the heel of your bare foot into Kyle’s backside urgently, he’s too far gone to think properly; all reason and restraint melting away like candle wax, leaving nothing but pleasure rather than the pain he’d endured for the past year.

“She feels incredible, doesn’t she, Sergeant?”

It’s a rhetorical question, because Kyle is already gritting his teeth, muscles coiling, trying not to cum already as he bottoms out inside your gummy channel. You do feel different. Hotter, slicker, sweeter, utterly intoxicating, and Kyle doesn’t know if it’s the fact he’s not wearing protection or if it’s your pregnancy making your pussy even more addictive.

He nods anyway, holding eye-contact with you. “Yes, s-sir. Fuck–!”

And then, Price pushes Kyle’s hips forward at once, thrusting the younger man’s cock deeper into your fluttering cunt, making you and the Sergeant moan and yelp obscenely in unison while your plump tits jiggle tantalisingly. “Then fuck her properly, Sergeant. She needs it… and so do you.” He growls into Kyle’s ear; rough beard scratching over heated, sensitive skin.

Price tells Kyle to fuck you, but it’s obviously the Captain who’s setting the pace here; guiding and pushing his Sergeant’s hips as the latter fucks you desperately yet carefully while his own clothed and throbbing cock ruts against the younger man’s bare, plump ass.

Kyle can barely hold himself together after months of loneliness and touch-starvation, and the absolute overwhelming feeling of being buried inside you now, hearing you moan and cry out his name while the full weight of his Captain’s powerful body is pressed flush against him; he’s heating up, front to back, sweat trickling down his neck as one of Price’s mammoth hands snakes up his chest, squeezing his pec harshly before curling around Kyle’s throat, putting pressure on his Adam’s apple. 

“Oh, fuck, – Cap–” Kyle gasps and pants, and his head lolls back against Price’s broad shoulder, short-circuiting with new sensations while his dark lashes flutter; hips still grinding deeply and fast-paced into your dripping cunt until your gummy walls convulse and squeeze him rhythmically as your climax seizes you, making you cry out in ecstasy in a way Kyle hasn’t witnessed before while his own pleasure boils over, and he grips you feverishly with both hands, long fingers digging into the fat of your thighs while Price’s hot breath ghosts over his sweat-slicked skin.

“That’s it, Gaz,” he murmurs, squeezing Kyle’s throat tighter and cutting off more of his airflow, “–fill her up, lad. Breed her good.” 

And Kyle does as he’s ordered; eyes rolling back into his skull, crying out despite the pressure around his neck as his cock pulses and shoots several thick ropes of cum into your eager cunt; vision blurring as he comes harder than he has in what feels like forever.

Much to his surprise, once his mind has come off its post-orgasmic high, the aftermath isn’t as strange as Kyle anticipated as soon as Price had gotten involved.

His eyes are closed, his cheek resting above your naked chest, mindful to not put any unnecessary pressure on your sore breasts, while he listens to your steady heartbeat, his warm palm resting on your baby bump, stroking his thumb over your skin absentmindedly.

“Did it kick yet?” Kyle asks curiously, his voice slurred with exhaustion. “The uh… baby, I mean.”

“Yes,” you answer, laughing softly as you continue to scratch your fingernails along the curve of Kyle’s shoulder blades, feeling his skin pebble with gooseflesh. “I think he’s sleeping now after all the commotion,” you giggle, “– just like his daddy.”

As if on cue, Price’s snore cuts through the tranquillity, curled around you on your other side protectively. Kyle snorts softly before letting out a soft sigh, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

He's always dreamed of having a boy.

[kiame-sama]

Losing the Bet with the First Year: Having to Imitate an NRC Staffer

Reader: *Imitates an NRC employee*

NRC employee imitated by Reader: *accidentally passing by* Is the adoption registration valid for children without ID cards?

Warnings; platonic yanderes, platonic yandere staff, mention of imitation, mention of adoption, scolding, lost bet,

- Trein will be switching classrooms for the day when he hears the slightest of commotions ahead in the hall. Naturally, he is going to see just what is going on and assign extra work as needed for whoever was making such a commotion.

- What he didn't expect to see was you dressed in clothes that looked near identical to his own with your hair slicked back in a style much like his own. Even Lucius had to glance between the two of you a few times.

- Just seeing his favorite student dressed the same way he did gave him an intensely nostalgic feeling that harkened back to when he was raising his daughters. He was going to have to keep pestering Crowley to allow him to adopt you already.

- Divus was taking a few of his dalmatians for a walk when he noticed a gathering of students around a central point. Naturally, he had little interest in figuring out what the common cur got up to in their freetime, but they were his cur and he was expected to keep them in line. Where the dogs gather, fights are not far behind.

- It took him by complete surprise to see you in the center of the commotion, wearing a coat much like his own and even sporting copies of his dual-colored hair and red riding crop. Vil- who no doubt put this ensamble together- was standing nearby lecturing what seemed to be a group of first-years about the proper care that goes into tailoring good clothes. You were less than amused and he gathered that you had been put up to copying him by the other first-years.

- He can't help but think that the style suits you much more than your usual uniform and he finds himself wondering what other clothes of his would fit your aesthetic. Certainly he could train his dalmatians to obey your orders as well. It would also help him keep the usual mutts away from you if you looked and behaved more like he did. He would have to bribe talk with Crowley about your future in Twisted Wonderland.

- Vargas was running laps around the school when he heard a familiar whistle. Feeling compelled to see who was doing what, he was surprised to find several first-years doing pushups at your behest.

- He didn't realize at first that you were wearing what looked like his typical outfit he had on during classes. The red windbreaker paired with fitted black sweats that all had golden trim actually looked rather nice on you as if you fit them just as well as he did. You were so focused on the first-years in front of you, that you didn't notice Coach Vargas watching in surprise.

- "And when you're done, you guys are gonna run ten laps!" The coach felt himself smiling at your authoritative tone as you truly began to embody his behavior. He had been looking for an assistant coach and you certainly didn't need magic to be athletic. Perhaps, if he could adopt you from Crowley, he could convince the Headmage to make an assistant role for you.

- Sam is taking a quick break from the store when he hears a familiar greeting, "Hey there, little imps!" And of course, he needs to see who is using his good material and why. A group of first-years are laughing as he slowly approaches the group, wondering what all the fuss is about.

- You- his favorite best customer- are standing in the middle of the group of first-years, top-hat perched on your head and purple suit fitted to your figure. The tailcoat and fine details of the suit lend themselves to the overall look which was so inherently Sam that he almost believed you could be his kid. You know, if you hadn't randomly been pulled to Twisted Wonderland by the dark mirror and had no obvious relation to him, that is.

- He's not one to stop students from having a good time and you were certainly rocking the unique style well enough that he couldn't be mad about it. Perhaps he would have to give you a job around the store or some special discount seeing as you may as well be his apprentice given how often you were in his humble shop. Crowley couldn't be mad that Sam was looking out for his best customer, right?

- The Deadbeat Headmage had been doing his usual aimless wandering rounds when he heard the sound of someone being scolded by professor Mozus Trein. Naturally, as the nice guy he was, he was going to snoop see who was in trouble and why.

- He certainly didn't expect to see someone adorned in a mask much like his own under the scrutiny of the history professor. It took him a moment to realize it was you and he was frankly impressed with the accuracy of your imitation. You wore his long coat on your shoulders, the black feathers sticking out from around the collar and shoulders. You did not wear the golden talons like he did, but your black gloves and top-hat were close enough to show you were trying to copy his appearance. It was a good imitation and had just enough sparkle to the vest that it was almost completely accurate.

- "-and to think you are going around school dressed as the Headmage! Why, he would be quite cross with you if he were here!" Without missing a beat, Crowley was quick to interrupt the conversation, picking up one of your hands and using his magic to give you your own set of the golden talons he wore so often. "If you're going to be my ward and dress like me, you may as well be as accurate as possibly, my Little Chick. And look, because I'm such a kind person, I gave you your own talons! Now we can match, like true family."

[willowser]

really what prompted my double boy dad bakugou post was the idea of his older son — who is six, nearing seven — coming out of his room with messy, sleep-mussed hair and wandering into the kitchen on an early morning when katsuki's getting ready for work.

and your youngest is a little terror. spoiled rotten, katsuki thinks, was too babied and that's why he doesn't listen and has temper tantrums in the middle of the floor and is already throwing punches at three. katsuki's old witch of a mother thinks he'll be bulkier than his older son and twice as mean, prone to pinning his brother to the ground until he's declared the greatest.

(katsuki feels both horror and pride, at the very thought.)

it hasn't always been easy for your oldest; becoming a big brother never is. not that katsuki would know what that's like, but he hated to even share a playground with deku, much less share his one and only mommy, so he can only imagine what his own son went through when his brother arrived.

but he's been great about it, which comes as no surprise because his oldest has always been great about everything. gets his little brother out of bed and reminds him of his manners—even as he's getting whacked—gives up his toys just so the baby won't cry. he's too smart for his own good, acting like a big boy now—and it makes katsuki nostalgic in a way that hurts.

there hasn't been a lot of time for just the two of them. not like there used to be.

so when his firstborn comes to stand beside him in the kitchen, to lean his head against his dad's hip and rub at his sleepy eyes—katsuki just ruffles his already messy hair, before giving his ear a little tug.

"should be asleep," he grumbles to him, "sun's not even up yet."

his son only shrugs, yawns hard; despite this, he says, "'m not tired."

katsuki snorts and continues with his routine: finishes his protein shake, gives the kid a sip when he thinks he wants one (he doesn't really, though he tries not to make a face at the taste as he nods, as if he likes it), makes sure he's got all his work shit in his bag for patrol later. and his son is mostly quiet, content to share in the morning just between the two of them after katsuki sits him on the counter.

and then he asks, "can i come to work with you?"

on instinct, katsuki glances at his shut bedroom door, where you're still fast asleep, on the other side, and then down the hallway to where his youngest is sleeping, too.

technically, the kid probably could because you're off work today, and you could come pick him up later before katsuki has to head out, but—

"your brother won't be happy if i take you and not him."

and your oldest is a good big brother. has more patience than katsuki ever did, knows how to share—but on this morning that the two of them are indulging in, he only shrugs.

"well," he sighs—and he sounds so grown up, sounds like you when you're leveling with katsuki. "if he wanted to go then he should have got up, too."

"that why you're awake?" katsuki frowns, though his son only shrugs again. the idea that he's gotten up way too early, at the ass-crack of dawn just to have some extra time with his dad is too—

"yeah," katsuki murmurs, nodding at him to hop off the counter. "get your socks on so we can go."

there won't be anything for him to do in the agency office, besides get an endless amount of cups of water from the dispenser and all the candy in the receptionist's bowl and attention from the older ladies that thinks he's just so stinking cute.

but at least they'll be together, just the two of them. like old times.

[runerapier]

With FS 2 finally out I wanted to share some of my thoughts, I think it would be fun to talk about the possible mental state Angeal is in around this time in his life and subsequently how it reflects Sephiroth, as well as the meaning behind Angeal's dream sequence.

Since a lot of the details of Angeal’s backstory are hidden in external material, I’m going to use it as a point of reference. Crisis Core has a lot of content they were not able to include at the time of it’s release, so it will be fun to see if they follow up on these things they wrote about but couldn’t include in game.

We already see from the get go that Angeal is serving as a contrast to Sephiroth’s outlook, demeanor, and manners. Angeal’s energy and passion he has for teamwork, his comrades, and genuine care he has for doing his job all directly contrast Sephiroth’s whatever attitude. Even small acts of chivalry are made to highlight this, showing Angeal going the extra mile to help Alissa across the bridge vs Sephiroth’s refusal to engage with anyone socially. Sephiroth was brought up to function independently, made to be a one man army, no use for friends, families, or allies. Especially with the recent loss of friends, he is going to be distant.

This is extremely important for contrast with Angeal, who has likely recently left home and is missing his family, not to mention he is someone he deeply values his connection to others. There is no set age for when Angeal left home, but it is likely within the last 2~ years. His sword in game is listed as type 90, this is comparable to Zack’s sword in CC which is type 99, the type number likely reflects the year the sword was created or the year of when that model was created. Assuming that it's updated every year, leans towards the fact they've been in SOLDIER since at least that year. Meaning Angeal likely left home at 14~, which is closer to around the age Zack and Cloud left home for SOLDIER anyways.

Angeal is someone very sentimental, he is very defensive of his home and his family. CC showed us he was quite nostalgic about Banora on several occasions. This is another contrast to Sephiroth, who doesn't have a hometown or a family. According to the CC ultimania, Genesis was one of the motivators for Angeal to leave and find a better way of living. The new chapter confirmed Angeal left home because he wanted to help pull his family out of poverty. In CC, Angeal's father was said to fall sick from overwork to pay off debt from the buster sword; however, the ultimania mentions an important detail: his father has always been weak and sickly. It’s partly due to his father being chronically ill/disabled that they aren’t able to make a lot of money. The buster sword isn’t the sole cause of his death but rather an extension of working in a system that likely exploits disabled people. Genesis might have been the push Angeal needed to leave far away from home rather than staying and trying to take care of his sick father.

Which gets us to Angeal’s dream, there is debate on how much of it is real because Sephiroth’s wasn’t real. In my personal opinion, the dream being real is a very important contrast to Sephiroth. We know that whatever Alissa is, she is preying on the desires of them. Especially in the case of her being Jenova, who uses memories of her victims to her advantage. Angeal doesn’t need to make up a scenario of his family loving him or being proud of him, because it’s already a reality, Sephiroth doesn’t have this luxury. Angeal's father pushed himself to the brink just so he could support his son in his endeavor, there is no doubt his family loved and supported him. So, what is Angeal's actual desire then? In CC it is never really specified when Angeal's father died, but in Gillian’s profile in the ultimania, it mentions his father died shortly after Angeal left for SOLDIER, even the dream is hinting towards something bad happening on the horizon. Angeal's dad is probably already dead and it is mirroring Sephiroth wanting to see his mother. Possibly reinforced by the fact he is already refusing to use the buster, while it's not confirmed if he didn’t use it all because of his cheapness, I think his father's death added significant value to the sword, making it irreplaceable. They are two kids who just want to be with their parents again, one's desire being entirely fictional and the other's being in the past. It is another contrast between them with their dreams: Sephiroth's being all he lacks, and Angeal's is all he had, but left behind. Both unattainable but in a different sense.

This dream is likely some of the last stability Angeal had before leaving home, along with possibly being one of the last times he saw his father alive which is probably why he is yearning for it. I think if the dream itself symbolized only wanting stability Angeal wouldn’t mention leaving for SOLDIER, I don’t think he wanted to leave home to provide for his family if given the choice. Instead "Jenova" is preying on something that is tangible. However, there is still a possibility it is exaggerated a bit with Angeal having the money for donations and plenty of food. I don't think this is true either, the dream implies Angeal was already working at this age to support his family, so it’s not entirely out of the question he uses what little he has to give back or that he helped with saving for Gillian's birthday party. In contrast nothing in Sephiroth's dream was real besides the fact he lives in the Shinra building, we know Angeal has loving parents, we know he is a hard worker, we know he left for soldier, and we know he loves his village and his family, more was real than just the setting. Also, I think there's a point that this is a special occasion, they could've opted to save up for her birthday. It really didn’t feel too wild to me that one day in particular they had extra food, especially considering they live in a farm village. When and the exact reason why Angeal stole when he was younger is honestly not clarified at all. He could have been afraid of asking for extra food, it could have been during droughts, or even when his father was too sick to work. It is very common for poor families in remote villages to grow their own crops, we even see people in Gongaga growing their own supply, so these things are not really out of the question. I think if any of these details were fake Angeal would be confused or surprised by having these things like how Sephiroth did to make it clear to us as the viewer, but that didn’t happen. The dream closes with remarking his desire to provide for his family so they live happy and healthy… and we know that didn’t happen, which is the point. I think it's also worth mentioning there are some small discrepancies in the localization. He isn't just giving out expensive equipment to multiple people individually, instead, it's a donation that is meant to be shared by everyone. Angeal is building community with farmers who might also be struggling, and I feel like this is an important detail that's missing.

(small disclaimer: I'm not fluent, I only know basics, but I did my best to break down the sentences to make sure these were accurate)

I think it’s clear Angeal isn’t yearning to be rich (or someone else that’s not even relevant in the current narrative… especially when their focus currently is to compare and contrast him with Sephiroth). If Angeal wanted to be rich or famous why isn't he chatting up the PR guy to hope it gets him more attention to the point of promotion? Instead Angeal cares about doing his job and making sure it’s done right, he even gets angry at Bachman and tells him his priority is the rescue mission. Angeal cares deeply about protecting and caring for the people around him, especially those important to him. The dream is only reinforcing this. They even made his gameplay reflect his narrative by being the one to provoke and tank damage for his team, which shows how he views his role as a leader. I want to preface this with there being nothing wrong if the dream ends up being exaggerated, I think regardless it is a good insight on Angeal's character. He loves his family and friends, he wants to support them and make them happy. It shows how they were a positive influence on his life and how they affected his motivations. I think narratively speaking though, Angeal having something that is at very least somewhat more real is another important contrast with Sephiroth, especially when a point of contention between them is how they grew up in different worlds. I think the turmoil of Angeal’s father being most likely dead is going to carry a lot of weight for this story and is meant to parallel Sephiroth's desires for wanting family, it possibly being how they find common ground. While Angeal did grow up in a loving household, he is going through a lot right now with his father's passing. The focus on the Buster sword is incredibly important since it is going to represent why Angeal fights. To protect and to care for what he couldn’t back home, for what his father wanted for him. A dream of a better future and to not lose sight of his morals.

In my personal opinion, it makes a lot of sense that Genesis might not be joining for this section of the story. It's shining a light on some of two most iconic swords in gaming history, and how Angeal’s outlook related to his struggles is going to shape Sephiroth. Angeal’s character and his trauma shape the foundation of the Buster sword and future wielders, and it shaping the Masamune too will be an extension of that. He is the heart of SOLDIER, and I am excited to see this story continue to reinforce that.

[minty-mumbles]

LU Survey 2024 Results

The long awaited results of the survey. Thank you guys for being so patient with me :)

There were 350 responses to the survey this year! Not as many as there were last year, but still impressive. If you want to look at the raw data for this, you can do so here

Demographics

General Questions

Favorites and Least Favorites

Blank Space Question (Select Answers)

I'm so normal about Legend (the biggest lie I've ever told)

WIND BABY WIND OUGH IHGH UUOA I AM SICK FOR HIM MY SKRUNKLE MY OUGHGHHGJUA BELOVED

Remember that fandom is a community! Reach out to each other and learn something new! Give someone a compliment! Ask them a question! Encourage new artists and writers who are still learning! Thank you Mint for doing the survey again, too!

The fact no one has thought of calling Warrior's Zelda, "Areia" hurts me deeply "Hyppolita" even, please, with how much shipping there is between them, people sure are eager to name her after goddesses who have vowed to never have romantic relationships.

I dont think the fandom talks about it but i really love that every single piece of sky clothing is embroidered, because unless skyloft has embroidery machines thats all hand done. Which means either someone he knows makes a lot of them and gives them out freely (i give most of my projects to friends and family) or he would have paid someone for it, which means that either someone on skyloft lives of decorating clothing (and likely other fabrics) or someone just uses it to get some extra money (both are amazing since in the modern day people dont want to pay for handcrafted works what its actually worth)

Shark skeletons are made of cartilage, not bone

It's dangerous to go alone. Take this. 🦆

FOUR SUPREMACY🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🔥🔥🔥🔥💚❤️💙💜💪💪💪💪🔛🔝💯💯💯💯💯

No but the Athena/Artemis thing is so real. What’s up with that. Why did we pick Artemis? Why did we do that?

I find it so funny how the fandom has decided to call Dark Link "Dink" because whenever I play a Zelda game I name my character Dink or Dinkus :D I started doing this waaaaay before I knew about LU

Im so excited for Echos of Wisdom! I find it really funny that Nintendo keeps making it harder for JoJo to stick to the plan, I'm pretty sure it's Legend and Fable but I'm not certain any ways Im really happy!

I love how LU is a culmination of so many of my favorite tropes from other fandoms! It’s been really comforting and nostalgic for me despite the fact that I only got into it this year. Especially since so many creators I liked have been getting revealed as problematic, it’s nice to be able to fall back on fictional characters who can’t ruin the lives of real people. :)

[riverianepondsims]

SimPrint | Newspapers, payphones, and extras for TS3!

The SimTimes finally found room in their budget for color printing of their newspapers! The bad news is, no one reads them anymore. Maybe they'll start now? In other news, The SimNation Telecom Company has been required by law to reactivate disconnected payphones to promote accessiblity to phone connectivity for all. Here's a quarter - go tell someone who might care! Important info and download 💾 under the cut:

This is an assortment of items that I worked on in 2022 and 2023. Most of this is comprised of different newspaper default replacement sets, the textures of which I converted from a few different creators. Additionally, you will find a few different things here... STC Payphone - Network Connected Original creator: Grande Lama I made this phone fully functional, and added geostates for when the phone is in use and when the handset is back on the hook. I also made this phone available in the in-game world editor, and it's flagged for use in CAW as well, so you can place it in your CAW metadata and use in worlds. It does function off-lot (as photographed!)

Crosley Simlish Serenity Payphone Original creator: ArwenKaboom (for The Sims 4 @TSR) I converted this phone and made it fully functional, and like the abovementioned phone, added geostates. I also added Simlish textures for all of the details and writing on the phone. I included the English ones too for those who might prefer them.

Functional Newspaper Stands and Dispensers Original creators: ATS3, phoebejay, alienpod, Episims, VeganKaktus, Budgie I figured I'd add the textures for the various newspapers to newspaper stands and dispensers that alienpod converted and added their textures to. They require the actual script from PhoebeJay to work. Without it, they will be decorative items. They can also be placed off-lot in the in-game world editor or in CAW. PhoebeJay's mod Simlish Bus Texture Override Original creators: FreshPrince, Lyralei As someone who probably spent half of their uni years on public transit, I was so excited for Lyralei's Bus Manager mod and was happy to test it out while testing my tennis mod. At some point I did a quick Simlish recolor override for the signs, license plates, and side-wraps, and I figured I'd share it now with this set! Lyralei Bus Manager Mod I also threw in a few deco book objects I converted from TS2 quite a while ago that I enjoy using in my lots! The newspaper default replacement texture varieties come from the following TS2 creators: Alienpod: Newspaper Defaults Epi's Sims: Newspaper Default Replacements VeganKaktus: Newspaper Default Replacement

I included replacement textures for both the reading version and the folded up versions of the newspapers. Please note that, like with my tennis default replacements, you can only have one active newspaper default replacement in your game at once. Each default includes both the reading and matching folded version. The variety is there in case you would want to switch it up between different saves and/or worlds! Making these made me so nostalgic for the early 2000s...walking to the store with a payphone outside to make an important call and getting a coke ICEE for the journey to visit grandma who has a Crosley phone in her kitchen...our sims deserve that.

Previews, additional credits, location, prices, and download links: 💾 Download Catalog: SimPrint - riverianepondsims

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[kitnita]

Hi I hope this isn't a dumb question but I'm a new Stars fan (This is actually my first time watching the hockey season) and I was wondering what the "We're not going home" phase is from and why did some people here got emotional when Khudobin said it during our home game on Tuesday

hi!!! there are no dumb questions!!!! the phrase came out of the 2020 bubble playoffs which, wild as it is to realize, were nearly five years ago 😭 so even if you'd been watching for a couple seasons it's the kind of thing that you might've missed anyway!!!!!

technically (& i didn't even fully remember this!) the stars using 'we're not going home' as a rallying cry in the bubble didn't even originate with dobby!!! joel kiviranta said it first, after the stars beat colorado in game seven of the second round thanks to his overtime game-winning hat-trick goal.

the stars' player of the game token at the time was a chain with a big dallas logo in it; a long-haired roope rightfully handed it over to kivi, the room called for him to give a speech, and in response kivi said, 'fuckin' right. we're not going home!'

it became associated with dobby when he was given the player of the game token after the stars beat vegas in game five of the WCF, and succinctly said, 'WE'RE NOT GOING HOME!' before putting the chain on.

all the love to kivi but dobby just said it with a little more panache!! he'd presumably had more time to think on how he wanted to use the phrase!!! also, as you may or may not know, espn+ had a series called quest for the stanley cup for a couple of seasons (it looks like 2023 was the last, maybe because the amazon documentary series kind of took over last season? who knows) & the title of the fourth episode was 'we're not going home' & featured dobby's use of the phrase as a closer to its coverage of that series, which i think helped cement it as dobby's in general hockey media. sorry kivi. we will always have 'joel fucking kiviranta' though!

anyway. all that to say, it was very nostalgic to hear dobby say it on tuesday!!!!!! it's such a Bubble Playoffs Phrase because it just .......... wouldn't really make sense as a rallying cry any other year. eliminated teams in 2020 left the bubble pretty immediately after getting eliminated so everyone could go home & go back to quarantining and waiting to hear what the league's plan was to return to play for the next season.

obviously most of the time, getting to go home during the playoffs is a good thing!! it's part of why teams want home ice advantage so much!!!

2020 flipped everything on its head though & turned being stuck in a hotel in edmonton for that much longer into a good thing. 'we're not going home' essentially just meant 'we're moving on to the next round' but it sounds so much cooler. dobby saying it on tuesday didn't literally mean 'we're not going home' so much as it meant 'we're moving on,' except that he was a game early so once more: can he please come back on saturday?? for the vibes???

i really wish i could easily put footnotes into a tumblr post but here are some sources:

rmnb put out an article about dobby saying 'we're not going home!' because andrej sekera referred to him as the russian machine, which is ovi's nickname. this was super useful in sourcing the vidoes of kivi & dobby saying the phrase from the stars twitter so shoutout to them.

espn did a recap article about the 'we're not going home' episode of quest for the stanley cup, which is kind of fun as an artifact now because pete was vegas' coach when dallas beat them! which i Knew but had like. kind of forgotten. 'Apparently DeBoer greeted every Stars player with "go win it" after they eliminated Vegas in the Western Conference finals.' pete can you somehow bring this energy back but in the locker room this time & with some extra juice. please pete i'm begging.