#wish i was a little snail with no thoughts and no responsibilities

[artbyace]

i’m having a rlly rlly rlly shit day so here r some animals to cheer u (and me ) up C:

[nanaslutt]

Bathtime w/ Fuckbuddy Satoru Gojo <3

contains: fem reader, reader is a teacher at Jujutsu High, clit play, mutual pining, teasing, so much dirty talk, possessive!Satoru if u squint

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

"Ahhhh...." You moaned quietly into the small space of your bathroom as the soreness from your limbs was washed away by the borderline scolding hot water that swallowed up your body. The bubbles tickled your chin as you sunk deeper, letting the water cover your body up to your neck so you appeared to be a head floating in the bath.

Gojo had been out on a mission, which meant you were in charge of teaching his students and overseeing their sparing. Only you had to get hands-on with them several times and ended up moving your body in ways you haven't moved since you were in high school. 

You were a sorcerer and you trained frequently, but in the weeks before training his students, curses had been quiet, which meant fewer missions and less moving your body. So you stayed inside most days to complete paperwork, ignoring the training you should've been doing to stay agile and keep your bones loose during the dry spell of curse appearances--and boy did it show.

Not in your performance, but in your bones. You felt your muscles straining and burning when you pulled off some showy move for the students as you avoided one of their hits. The day felt like it was dragging on forever, and each time one of his precious students asked if you would spar with them, you accepted because your ego was too big to decline because of a little soreness. 

You had plenty of time to regret it afterwards though as you lay on your floor and stretched your body, cursing at Gojo over the phone for having such energetic students. He laughed and apologized, though he didnt seem very sorry to hear you groaning and moaning in pain through the phone. All of your moans sounded the same to him, pervert. Although he did promise to make it up to you when he came home from his mission in a few days, so you let him off the hook. 

Though you were irritated, as you shut your eyes and let the Epsom salt soak into your tired body, letting the hot water creep into your skin, you couldn't find yourself to be all that mad. This felt so good, you hadn't relaxed like this in a while. You silently prayed to someone that the dry spell of curse sightings would keep up so you could relax like this more often, even though you knew that was wishful thinking. 

You let the hot water wash all of the thoughts from your head, and it must've taken some of your consciousness with it because you failed to hear the dull bang of your front door opening, followed by footsteps that got closer and closer to the outside of your bathroom door. Your entire body jolted forward when you snapped back into reality fully at the sound of the bathroom door creaking open.

The adrenaline and fear from your fight or flight response didnt last long when the familiar feeling of Gojo's cursed energy flooded into your body, relaxing you almost instantly. "Oh? Did I scare you?" Gojo giggled as he pushed the door open entirely, his long frame leaning against the doorway, arms crossed as he watched you from under his blindfold.

 The bubbles had covered your chest in a way that almost looked like someone had placed them there on purpose. They came up to just above your nipples, covering the part of you Gojo wanted to see most. The rest of the suds stuck to the skin of your breasts, slowly slipping downwards at a snail's pace. If you kept your body sitting up like you were for long enough, the bubbles would surely run off your tits and reveal your pretty nipples to Gojo's eyes. 

The water still sloshed around your body from your sudden movements before you sighed and leaned back against the tub, letting the water absorb you into it once more. "Fuck, Satoru... what are you doing here? I thought you were going to be gone for another week?" You asked, trying to keep the longing out of your tone as you spoke to him, not wanting him to know you missed him as much as you did, his ego didn't need that. 

"Aww did someone miss me?" Gojo asked, tilting his head at you. "I missed you too, that's why I used you as motivation to exercise that curse as quickly as possible so I could come to you~" The teasing and playfulness in his voice both irritated and aroused you. You scoffed, turning your head away from him to stare at the very interesting blank wall of the shower as you felt a blush creep onto your face.

"Get in and close the door or leave, you're letting all the hot air out." You bit, ignoring his teasing words as you felt goosebumps tickle your arms from under your skin. "Ohhh~ Is that an invitation?" Gojo cooed, uncrossing his arms as he kicked the door shut behind him, a large hand reaching behind his head to pull off his blindfold, his beautiful blue eyes being revealed from underneath.

You kept your face unreadable as you looked back at Gojo, your greedy eyes taking in the way his arms bulged as the jacket slid off his arms, falling to the floor. It must've been hot where he was sent on the mission because instead of the signature white long-sleeve button-up shirt he usually wore under his jacket, his body was adorned in a tight black muscle shirt. One that made your mouth water with how little it left to the imagination.

"Hey, my eyes are up here. You're making me embarrassed, y'know~" Gojo whined, faux pouting as he crossed his arms over his body and pulled up the bottom of his shirt before slowly sliding it up his body, giving you a show as each row of his insanely defined abs was revealed to you. Satoru grinned at you when he pulled the shirt over his head, his hair looking ruffled and fluffy from his head being squeezed through such a tight opening. Cute.

"Don't say that like you don't stare at me shamelessly when I take off my clothes in front of you." You retort, feeling your body start to react to the show he was putting on for you. "I can't help it, you get so squirmy when I watch you, it's adorable," Gojo responded, his hands making quick work of his belt as he kept his piercing eyes on yours while he did so.

Your lip curled up slightly in embarrassment at his words. How was he able to just say stuff like that? "You touchin' yourself under there?" Gojo asked, his voice keeping the teasing tone but with the addition of something deeper now. Your jaw dropped as you stared at him incredulously, a blush spreading across your face. "Y-you-" Briefly looking down you noticed the bulge that had already formed in his pants.

He could see nothing but your head floating atop the bubbles, how was he already hard? "You have such a dirty mouth Satoru." You responded, shaking your head at him. He giggled as he finally pulled his pants and boxers off his heels, his hard cock standing at full attention, the delicious curve made it point up towards his belly. You did your best to avert your eyes, looking back at the blank wall of the shower as he got closer.

"Heh~ You're so easy to tease." He teased. "Scoot forward, make some room for me, princess." Your heart was beating out of your chest. It had only been a week and a half since Gojo had left on his mission, but your body had missed him so badly. Not a second went by that you didnt crave Satoru's presence in some way, so now that he was actually here after ten days of pining, your body didn't know what to do with all the feelings you were experiencing.

Wordlessly, you leaned forward and allowed Gojo to slide into the bath behind you. He hissed when he stuck his first foot in the bath behind your body. "Are you a masochist?? Why is the water so hot??" Gojo complained, hissing and whining under his breath after each inch of skin he sunk into the water.

His childishness eased some of the tension and embarrassment you were feeling. You smiled to yourself as he situated himself deeper into the bath, his thighs spreading around your body. "Your students pushed me to my limits, I don't think there's a muscle in my body that isn't sore." You sighed. Gojo hummed in awknowledgement as he wrapped his arms around your torso and pulled you back agaisnt him, your back flush to his chest--which felt so much wider than you remember. 

You tried to ignore the very prominent feeling of Gojo's hard cock poking your lower back as you relaxed against him, your eyes taking in his usual porcelain skin turning red on the tops of his knees as they poked out from under the water, burned from the heat of the water. "Is your body more sensitive to heat because of your infinity? Or are you just a bitch?" You asked, staring blankly at the shower wall in front of you.

Gojo tsked at your words, his arms squeezing tighter around your body. "You could've said that last part nicer. I'm sensitive." He replied, pouting as he placed his chin on your head, staring at the same wall you were. You laughed softly, relaxing even further against him "I've always been sensitive to extreme temperatures, but I think anyone besides you would agree with me when I say this bath is just too hot."

You stayed quiet for a few seconds before you spoke again, "I think you're just a bitch." You said teasingly, smiling to yourself. Gojo pulled his head back from resting on the top of your head and looked down at your smaller frame against his as he pouted. He quickly got distracted though, forgetting your words as his eyes traced over the slope of your shoulders, the curve of your neck, and the valley between your breasts, glistening from the water.

Satoru licked his lips when an idea suddenly popped into his head. Releasing the hold he had on your body, he placed one of his hands right under your tit, the other slowly sliding down the front of your body. On instinct, you looked down, as if you could see his hands working on your body under the water. His large hand acted like it creating a path to your cunt, but right when he got to your pelvis, he changed direction and rubbed his hand down your thigh before sliding it back up, repeating that action.

"You're so mean to me sometimes..." He pouted, the hand he had holding your body against him slipping up to cup your breast, his large hand practically engulfing the entire thing as he slowly massaged it. "Satoru..." You whispered, your head pressing back against his chest. "I'm nothing but nice to you, y'know?" He continued, his hand alternating between pinching your nipple with his fingers and rubbing your entire tit in his palm.

You sighed as he touched you, your body melting under his touch. "But even though you're a bully..." Satoru's hand slid back up to your pelvis, he rubbed the area of skin right above your clit with his fingers, pressing down against the skin slowly, the same as he did when he fucked you and was trying to feel himself thrust inside you. You didn't even realize that your legs were spreading on instinct, making room for him to touch you.

You gasped quietly as you waited for him to touch you. The throbbing between your thighs was now pulsing rapidly with your need for relief the longer he teased you. "...I still want to make you feel good." He finished, his fingers releasing the pressure on your pelvis as they slid down to your pussy, his fingers finding your clit with ease as he started rubbing slow, teasing circles against it.

"Does that make me a pushover?" He whispered hotly against your ear as you gasped in a breath at the sudden striking pleasure. "Fuck-" You gasped, your eyes fluttering shut as he played with your little clit expertly, his other hand rubbing his index finger in circles around your areola, much the same pace as the one on your clit. "Hm? Does it baby?" Gojo asked, his greedy mouth sucking the shell of your ear into his mouth, his tongue teasing it as his lips suctioned around it, the sensation sending goosebumps down your body.

"I-I don't know." You whined, your brain not even registering what he was saying to you as he pleasured your body. He truly knew your body like the back of his hand, he knew each and every spot that had you whining and crying for him. "You don't know?" He repeated, leaving hot kisses against your ear as he sped up the circles on your clit, adding slightly more pressure at the same time.

"You aren't listening huh? That's so mean princess. I'm going out of my way to make you feel good even after you've bullied me, and you can't even listen to me?" He cooed, making his voice higher as he teased you. His index finger and thumb pinched around the hard bud of your nipple as he rolled it between his fingers. You squirmed against his body, your legs jerking every so often causing the water to slosh around you.

Your hand gripped Gojo's wrist which was working vehemently on your pussy, making jolts of electricity shock through your body. "S-Satoru... satoru that feels good." You whined, your hair tickling his skin as your head rubbed on his chest. Gojo smiled, switching his hand to massage your other breast. "You can't think of anything other than how good you feel, huh?" He asked, kissing the spot right behind your ear.

His cock was twitching against your back after each whine and moan you released. He was so grateful you were pressed so tightly against him, your squirming giving his cock significant release as your lower back rubbed all over him. "M-mhmm-" You responded, pressing your lips together as you opened your legs wider for him. 

Gojo pressed kisses all over your neck and ear as he continued rubbing his fingers over your sensitive little bud, working you higher and higher toward your orgasm. "You're so soft. I missed you against me like this. I love holding you." Gojo whispered, his words too intimate for a fuckbudy to say, making you blush with embarrassment. "M-missed you too." You respond honestly, putting your pride aside. "You make me feel so good Satoru.." you praised, your words going straight to his cock.

"Yeah? I touch you so much better than you touch yourself huh?" He asked, his fingers quickening with his own excitement. "Y-yeah." You whine the word dragging out from between your lips. "I'm the only one who makes you feel this good, huh?" Satoru whispered, practically whining into your ear as he rutted his hips against your back. 

You groaned in response, feeling yourself almost about to tip over the edge. His hand on your tit massaged harder as he humped against you faster, the water sloshing around your body, spilling onto the floor. "Say it baby, need you to say it," Gojo begged, increasing the pressure on your clit, making your legs jerk together, trying to close around his hand when you felt the hot coil of your release wind up impossibly tighter.

"O-only you Satoru only you. F-fuck fuck I'm cumming-" Your smaller hand tightens around his wrist as you hold onto him for dear life as your orgasm wracks through your body. Satoru chases you, keeping your body pressed to his when you jerk forward, your body trying to fold in on itself when the intensity of your high. "Oh good fucking girl, take it, baby, that's it, cum for me." Gojo groaned against your ear, his hand squeezing your tit as wave after wave of your orgasm washed over you.

Satoru's cock dripped pre-cum into the water when you came, his own arousal increasing tenfold as he watched you cum. You relaxed back against his chest when you came down from your high, your head falling limply on his chest as you gasped softly, trying to recover from such an intense orgasm. "That looked like it felt so good baby, good job." He praised, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Your face was flushed red with your arousal as you closed your eyes when you felt his lips touch you. "Thank you, Satoru. I really needed that." You said, rubbing your thumb on his wrist that had started caressing the spot where your thigh and hip meet. He hummed, kissing your head once more as he acknowledged your words, the hand on your tit still slowly massaging it in circles.

"Would you look at that..." Satoru spoke, making you turn your head to look up at him, wondering what he was looking at. He smirked down at you when he got a view of your face, his eyes making contact with your own. "The water is still hot." His smirk grew when you tsked and looked away from him, the white-haired man bursting into a fit of giggles as he wrapped his arms around your body. 

[sungbeams]

TEASER | RED LIGHT, GREEN LIGHT — psh

sending your boyfriend an innocent selfie after a long and tiring day quickly snowballs into something far from innocent...

release date : nov 16 @ 1am cet comment on this post if you want to get tagged in the final fic

⟡ ┆ pairing. park sunghoon x fem!reader

⟡ ┆ genre and tropes. MDNI 18+ ONLY, smut, established relationship, idol!AU (for sunghoon, y/n unspecified)

⟡ ┆ content warnings. guided + mutual masturbation, phone sex, edging, dirty talk, a tiny bit of voyeurism?

⟡ ┆ word count. 0.7k of 9.7k

⟡ ┆ note. so this is a little fic i've been working on for a while now and i finally finished it! biggest thanks to @jayparked who beta read this whole thing in like one sitting ily snail :')

"Well," he clears his throat, a teasing tone taking over his voice, "you sent me that selfie last night, and I wanted to have some fun with you... but I guess you had better things to do."

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he lets his eyes adjust to the bright morning sun shining through the half-closed curtains, not having had the energy to get up to close them the night before.

A laugh erupts from you as you mentally picture your boyfriend sitting in the bed of his hotel room, duvet pooled around his waist and one arm slung over his bare chest as he's leaning back against the headboard with a playful pout etched onto his face. You silently sit up — your arm starting to fall asleep from the position in which you have to hold your phone against your ear — shirt slipping off your shoulder in the process as you reach up to push some of your hair out of your face.

"Yeah? What kind of fun?"

Your voice is curious, although hushed, almost as if you don’t dare to speak too loudly, even though you’re completely alone with no one to disturb. On the other end, you can hear Sunghoon hum slightly, the rumble in his chest echoing in your ear and sending the noises straight towards your core, your plush walls fluttering around nothing. Even after being with and knowing him for quite some time, little things like this — his voice after just waking up, his cheeks painted in a dusty pink, his hair a fluffy mess just asking to run your hands through it — still instantly manage to melt you into a puddle, goosebumps rising all over your skin.

"I think you know just what kind of fun I’m talking about, baby,“ Sunghoon lightly growls into your ear, pushing the duvet completely off his body, pressing a hand against the growing bulge in his underwear to relieve some of the pressure, "You looked so sexy, with your hair all messy from the day, your makeup smudged, and my shirt covering your gorgeous body. Wish I could be there right now to tear it off of you; be the reason you're all messy and disheveled for me.”

A quiet whimper involuntarily slips past your lips, your boyfriend chuckling lowly into your ear in reaction. He's aware of the effect he has on you, especially that of his voice. Whenever when he would want to tease and rile you up, he'd intentionally lean closer to you, whispering into your ear, his breath brushing over your ear, and no matter how innocent or suggestive his hushed words would be, your body would always react the same: shivers wrecking your body, breath speeding up, and eyes glazing over as you gaze up at him. The thought of those memories alone causes you to shudder and press your legs together, dampness slowly forming between them and ruining your underwear.

"Let’s try something different today, alright, sweetheart?"

You clear your throat in hopes your voice wouldn’t come out as breathy as you’re anticipating, but without avail, "Like...like what?”

"I want you to lie back down. I know you just sat up a few moments ago; I heard it, but now I need you to lie back down. Can you do that for me, baby?“

Your response comes as a hum, not trusting your voice and wanting to relish in Sunghoon's commanding tone without interrupting him. Silently, you shuffle down in your bed until your head is resting on your pillow again before kicking your duvet off your legs to feel less trapped and constricted, allowing you to move freely. Your shirt rides up in the process, exposing the bare skin of your stomach, goosebumps forming on it as the cold air of your bedroom comes in contact with your hot skin.

"I saw a blog post a bit ago online; it was about this couple in a long-distance relationship, and to spice things up in their bedrooms, they tried this little game that blew their minds away. How does that sound?"

You swallow thickly despite your mouth feeling as dry as a desert, breathing out a soft 'good’ as you impatiently wait for your boyfriend to continue husking into your ear.

"It's...I'm not sure how to describe it. It's like a guided mutual masturbation game? I'll get you to fuck yourself just the way I want you to do it while you get to listen to my voice and allow me complete control over you. Let me guide you, tease you, make you pleasure yourself until you cum all over."

©sungbeams — all rights reserved. i do not give permission to copy, repost, modify or translate my works.

[eldritch-spouse]

Shags get obsessed with a girl that works at an art store where he gets his supplies. She's laid back and chit-chats with him about any projects he's working on.

[Okay but what if you had a really strange thing going on?]

You like this little freak.

Yeah, okay, that's a bit of a mean thing to say. But can you be blamed? There's no word that fits him more aptly than freak. Not even in the physical sense, there's a lot of variety in mushroom monsters, you know some of them can be tall and gangly like Shags. He's just bizarre.

The way he speaks, moves, conducts himself. You swear, not a single mannerism this monster makes feels natural or reflexive. Even the way he seems to intensely wait and make himself an obstacle until you initiate conversation with him... God, even the fucking topics of conversation, it's like he makes an effort to speak in riddles.

In this rather boring dead-end of a job, seeing this weirdo bend and squeeze through the doors like Samara about to crawl out of the TV is the highlight of your shift.

That's why he's your favorite client.

He's been standing still in the same supplies isle for too long, you already know what he wants.

" Having trouble finding something, Mr Shags? "

As if, he probably knows this store better than yourself.

In fact, he outright told you he used to be a client before you started working here.

He murmurs a response too quietly to interpret, forcing you to come closer. And, predictably, as soon as you are within grabbing distance (not hard to achieve when you're a lamppost of a monster featuring branch-like arms), a spider hand slithers onto your shoulder. It's cold, he's always a little cold.

You're urged in front of a shelf, his head looming over yours.

" Ahh, I need your honest opinion on something... If you don't mind? "

This is the paints section, a mural of hues that hurt the eyes.

" Sure. "

" What shade of orange do you think I should get? "

You love these questions. Because never once does he elaborate on what he's creating or why he wants you to choose. It's happened many times before. What size of canvas should I get? What pen should I get? What sketch books should I get?

You like the strange autonomy of getting to pick, offering him the same level of context he does to you.

Absolutely none.

" Alloy. " You point.

Shags reaches towards it with little effort, snagging several little containers with his root-like digits. The hand on your shoulders tightens.

" What a choice. Thank you very much, my dear. "

" No problem. "

It takes a bit of shifting before the hand on your skin is lifted.

You stroll back to the cash register with a small smile and occasionally observe the monster in the same way you'd study an animal at the zoo.

It's strange how little he moves sometimes. Initially, you thought it was just so he wouldn't drip ink everywhere, but it seems to be a part of him now. Blending in with all his other vaguely creepy mannerisms. Mr Shags gets all his items at a snail's torturous pace and finally, finally approaches you.

" How are the latest projects going, Mr Shags? " You start while scanning the paints first.

The shroom actually seems to frown for a second. Fingers busy on the balcony. " Not as smoothly as I wished... "

Tap tap tap.

" My latest muse and I, our chemistry, I'm afraid it has no substance. "

" Oh? " Your eyes deviate to his face for a moment.

" Yes... Something tells me it's time to move on. But I do want to honor our time together with one last, preserving piece. "

Tap tap tap.

" Mhm. Sounds good, I hope the next one works out. " Frankly, you're not sure what he's talking about, but you usually never are to begin with.

" Me too. " Then he smiles again, and you get the distinct feeling his stare has turned into a more scrutinizing one.

Far from the first time, it doesn't scare you like it did initially.

It's pretty funny, actually. You started out thinking this guy was some kind of loser looking to harass you, to intentionally make you uncomfortable. Nowadays he's more of an entertaining almost-friend.

Tap tap tap.

" Will that be all, Mr Shags? "

" Shags. "

He's told you to call him just by his name a couple of times. You always ignore it, but he keeps trying anyway.

There's a silent beat.

During your first years of work, the lack of action would have made you antsy enough to break the silence, which is what you know he wants you to do. But now, you have no trouble staring back placidly until he continues the conversation.

Apparently, the shroom enjoys that continuous challenge, because his grin widens slowly.

" You have a peculiar facial definition. " He eventually rasps.

A nothing statement, not quite a compliment, not quite an insult, definitely said to confuse and prompt a question. One you don't give him the satisfaction of hearing.

" Thanks. " The customer service smile has an edge of playful smarm this time.

Tap tap tap.

" ... I would enjoy sketching you sometime. Your facial expressions are intriguing. "

This is essentially his way of asking you out, you presume.

" You've drawn me before. "

He's even given you the pages, pencil depictions of you caught in a selection of moments. Mostly bored to tears and staring at the little universe between the cracks in aged walls.

Shags tuts. " It's quite different when the muse in question is part of the experience. I much prefer it that way. "

You can't help the hint of a snicker that tugs at the corners of your lips as you bag his items to hurry things along. Not that there's anyone else inside right now.

" Mm. And what if we don't have good chemistry? "

The shroom monster hands you his card, not even caring about hearing the total.

" I think we both know that wouldn't be the case. "

Tap tap tap.

It's only a few moments of intentionally creating suspense until you hand him all his new belongings and card.

" See you soon, Mr Shags. "

His grin only twitches for a delightful glimpse of a second before he carefully takes his possessions and leaves.

Playing with fire is fun.

One day, you'll get burned.

[tillneverlovedivanuntilhewasshot]

whats your opinion on deuce surely it can't be that bad

What I think about deuce? well he...

Deuce Spade. You swine. You vulgar little maggot. You worthless bag of filth. I wager you couldn't empty a boot of excrement were the instructions on the heel. You are a canker. A sore that won't go away. I would rather kiss a lawyer than be seen with you. Try to edit your responses of unnecessary material before attempting to impress us with your insight. The evidence that you are a nincompoop will still be available to readers, but they will be able to access it more rapidly.

You snail-skulled little rabbit. Would that a hawk pick you up, drive its beak into your brain, and upon finding it rancid set you loose to fly briefly before spattering the ocean rocks with the frothy pink shame of your ignoble blood. May you choke on the queasy, convulsing nausea of your own trite, foolish beliefs. You are weary, stale, flat and unprofitable. You are grimy, squalid, nasty and profane. You are foul and disgusting. You're a fool, an ignoramus.

And what meaning do you expect your delusional self-important statements of unknowing, inexperienced opinion to have to us who think and reason? What fantasy do you hold that you would believe that your tiny-fisted tantrums would have more weight than that of a leprous desert rat, spinning rabidly in a circle, waiting for the bite of the snake? You are a waste of flesh.

You have no rhythm. You are ridiculous and obnoxious. You are the moral equivalent of a leech. You are a living emptiness, a meaningless void. You are sour and senile. You are a disease, you puerile one-handed slack-jawed , drooling meatslapper. You smarmy lagerlout git. You bloody woofter sod. Bugger off, pillock. You grotty wanking oik artless base-court apple-john. You clouted boggish foot-licking twit. You dankish clack-dish plonker. You gormless crook-pated tosser. You churlish boil-brained clotpole ponce. You cockered bum-bailey poofter. You gob-kissing gleeking flap-mouthed coxcomb. You dread-bolted fobbing beef-witted clapper-clawed flirt-gill.

You are a fiend and a coward, and you have bad breath. You are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I despise everything about you, and I wish you would go away. I cannot believe how incredibly stupid you are. I mean rock-hard stupid. Dehydrated-rock-hard stupid. Stupid so stupid that it goes way beyond the stupid we know into a whole different dimension of stupid. You are trans-stupid stupid. Meta-stupid. Some pure essence of a stupid so uncontaminated by anything else as to be beyond the laws of physics that we know. I'm sorry. I can't go on.

This is an epiphany of stupid for me. After this, you may not hear from me again for a while. I don't have enough strength left to deride your ignorant questions and half-baked comments about unimportant trivia, or any of the rest of this drivel. Duh. I mean, really, stringing together a bunch of insults among a load of babbling was hardly effective.

True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us "normal" people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering. But we sometimes forget that there are "challenged" persons in this world who find these things more difficult. If I had known, that this was your case then I would have never read your post. It just wouldn't have been "right". Sort of like parking in a handicap space. I wish you the best of luck in the emotional, and social struggles that seem to be placing such a demand on you.

You're an idiot. A moron of the highest order. You're so stupid it's a wonder and a pity you can remember to breath. Intelligent ideas bounce off your head as if it were coated with teflon. Creative thoughts take alternate transportation in order to avoid even being in the same state as you. If you had an original thought it would die of loneliness before the hour was out. On an intelligence scale of 1 to 10 (10 corresponding to the highest attainable IQ) you're rating is so far into negative numbers that one would need to travel into another quantum reality in order to even catch a distant glimpse of it.

Your personality is that of a rabid Chihuahua intent on destroying its own tail. Your powers of observation are akin to those of the bird that keeps slamming into the picture window trying to get that other bird it keeps seeing. You are walking, talking proof that you don't have to be sentient to survive, and that Barnum was thinking of you when he uttered his immortal phrase regarding the birth of a sucker. You are, at varying times, tedious, boring, and even occasionally earth shatteringly hilarious in your idiocy, routinely childish, moronic, pathetic, wretched, disgusting and pitiful.

You are wholly without any redeeming social grace or value. If God ever decides to give the planet an enema you'd better run like the wind because anywhere you stand is a suitable place for The Insertion. There is no animal so disgusting, so vile that it deserves comparison to you, for even the lowest, dirtiest, most parasitic member of the animal kingdom fills an ecological niche. You fill no niche. To call you a parasite would be injurious and defamatory to the thousands of honest parasitic species. You are worse than vermin, for vermin do not pretend to be what it is not. You are truly human garbage. You are a fraudulent, lying, predatory charlatan. You are of less worth than a burnt-out light bulb. You will forever live in shame.

You have nothing to say, and Godwin's Law does not apply when writing about you. You are the anti-Midas, for all that you touch becomes valueless and unusable. Mothers gather their children close when you appear. You are an aberration, a corruption, and a boil that needs to be lanced. You are a poison in need of being vomited. You are a tooth so rotten it infects the whole body. You are sperm that should have been captured in a condom and flushed down a toilet.

I don't like you. I don't like anybody who has as little respect for others as you do. Go away, you swine. You're a putrescent mass, a walking vomit. You are a spineless little worm deserving nothing but the profoundest contempt. You are a jerk, a cad, and a weasel. Your life is a monument to stupidity. You are a stench, a revulsion, a big suck on a sour lemon. You are a curdled staggering mutant dwarf smeared richly with the effluvia and offal accompanying your alleged birth into this world. Meaningful to no one, abandoned by the puke-drooling, giggling beasts that sired you and then killed themselves in recognition of what they had done.

I will never get over the embarrassment of belonging to the same species as you. You are a monster, an ogre, a malformity. I wretch at the very thought of you. You have all the appeal of a paper cut. Lepers avoid you. You are vile, worthless, less than nothing. You are a weed, a fungus, and the dregs of this earth. And did I mention you smell? Monkeys look down on you. Even sheep won't have sex with you. You are unreservedly pathetic, starved for attention, and lost in a land that reality forgot. You are a waste of flesh. On a good day you're a halfwit. You are deficient in all that lends character. You have the personality of wallpaper. You are dank and filthy. You are asinine and benighted. You are the source of all unpleasantness. You spread misery and sorrow wherever you go.

You are a fiend and a coward, and you have bad breath. You are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I despise everything about you, and I wish you would go away. I cannot believe how incredibly stupid you are. The only thing worse than your logic is your manners. Maybe later in life, after you have learned to read, write, study, spell, and count, you will have more success. True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us "normal" people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering. It just wouldn't have been "right". Sort of like parking in a handicap space. I wish you the best of luck in the emotional, and social struggles that seem to be placing such a demand on you.

You are hypocritical, greedy, violent, malevolent, vengeful, cowardly, deadly, mendacious, meretricious, loathsome, despicable, belligerent, opportunistic, barratrous, contemptible, criminal, fascistic, bigoted, racist, sexist, avaricious, tasteless, idiotic, brain-damaged, imbecilic, insane, arrogant, deceitful, demented, lame, self-righteous, byzantine, conspiratorial, satanic, fraudulent, libellous, bilious, splenetic, spastic, ignorant, clueless, illegitimate, harmful, destructive, dumb, evasive, double-talking, devious, revisionist, narrow, manipulative, paternalistic, fundamentalist, dogmatic, idolatrous, unethical, cultic, diseased, suppressive, controlling, restrictive, malignant, deceptive, dim, crazy, weird, dystrophic, stifling, uncaring, plantigrade, grim, unsympathetic, jargon-spouting, censorious, secretive, aggressive, mind-numbing, abrasive, poisonous, flagrant, self-destructive, abusive, and socially-retarded.

Shut up and go away lest you achieve the physical retribution your behaviour merits, deuce spade. I hate snuggling. And I despise said hunger games.

There is no one in this world that has ever loved you, and especially after what you just did, no one will ever love you in the future either. There is no hope that your idiotic behavior and especially your crooked soul will ever change for the better, and in fact quite the opposite might be true. By making the mistake that you just did, you have shown me that you are so incredibly hopeless that you will only devolve into a more idiotic and wretched creature than you already are. There is no hope that your idiotic behavior and especially your crooked soul will ever change for the better, and in fact quite the opposite might be true. By making the mistake that you just did, you have shown me that you are so incredibly hopeless that you will only devolve into a more idiotic and wretched creature than you already are. The only possible way in which your future would be brighter than the black hole your existence currently is would exclusively be because there is absolutely no conceivable way that you would even be able to sink lower than the pathetic place your current failure has put you in.There is no one in this world that has ever loved you, and especially after what you just did, no one will ever love you in the future either. The only possible way in which your future would be brighter than the black hole your existence currently is would exclusively be because there is absolutely no conceivable way that you would even be able to sink lower than the pathetic place your current failure has put you in.There is no one in this world that has ever loved you, and especially after what you just did, no one will ever love you in the future either. There is no hope that your idiotic behavior and especially your crooked soul will ever change for the better, and in fact quite the opposite might be true. By making the mistake that you just did, you have shown me that you are so incredibly hopeless that you will only devolve into a more idiotic and wretched creature than you already are. The only possible way in which your future would be brighter than the black hole your existence currently is would exclusively be because there is absolutely no conceivable way that you would even be able to sink lower than the pathetic place your current failure has put you in.The only possible way in which your future would be brighter than the black hole your existence currently is would exclusively be because there is absolutely no conceivable way that you would even be able to sink lower than the pathetic place your current failure has put you in.There is no one in this world that has ever loved you, and especially after what you just did, no one will ever love you in the future either.There is no one in this world that has ever loved you, and especially after what you just did, no one will ever love you in the future either. There is no hope that your idiotic behavior and especially your crooked soul will ever change for the better, and in fact quite the opposite might be true. There is no one in this world that has ever loved you, and especially after what you just did, no one will ever love you in the future either. There is no hope that your idiotic behavior and especially your crooked soul will ever change for the better, and in fact quite the opposite might be true. By making the mistake that you just did, you have shown me that you are so incredibly hopeless that you will only devolve into a more idiotic and wretched creature than you already are. The hunger games were the end of me. My reputation, my moon die, everything was taken away from me the moment you approached me. I was hated by all, forced to go away for a month. Why did you snuggle that day? my life is ruined because of your snuggling, man. I cant believe I wasted my time and precious hours on this response. Just go away, Deuce Spade.

tldr; he's quite the devious fella😂🤣😶‍🌫️

[kariachi]

Some birthday fic for @thenixkat! If you gave Laios a digi I missed it so... Just went with generic blob critter.

~~

“Laios. Laios.” He could thank his military training for only taking two calls to wake, though giving them the credit doesn’t sit well in his stomach. What he has to thank it for is the keen realization that the unfamiliar voice comes too close and the immediate response. He rolls to the side and just barely manages not to fall over himself as he settles into a crouch, scanning the trees for the stranger. Only days have passed since he packed his things and slipped away in the dead of night, and a creeping concern moves up his spine that the army has sent someone to find him.

Instead, all he finds is a small, pink… thing, staring back at him with big, black eyes. He can’t say he’s seen anything like it before- a mollusk maybe? It looks like it has the one foot like a snail or a slug, but he’s never heard of one so upright, or with arms. Some sort of monster then, but he’s also never heard of a monster that spoke so clearly without also taking more human forms to deal with people-

“You can relax,” the little thing says, tone almost bubbly as it climbs onto his thin mat, not a single foot but a mass of small feet, absolutely fascinating, “nobody else is here, it’s all safe.” For some reason he wants to believe it, and though the incident with the kelpie runs through his head, Laios warily sits down on the hard ground, hand still within easy reach of his sword. It’s skin is smooth, what he can only describe as an attempt at a tiny muzzle on it’s face, and he finds himself humming in consideration.

“What are you?” It can’t be a demihuman, not only does it look even farther from a human than orcs and kobolds, he’d surely have heard about them before, but it certainly is strange for a monster. He suddenly wants to grab out his journal and start taking notes, making sketches.

“I’m Mochimon! I’m-” It pauses. “You’re-” Again, face scrunching where there should be a nose. “We’re ours!” That doesn’t really answer his question, though it makes something in his gut glow warm and bright, and he’s wondering if it would be the wrong thing to say so when it continues. “I’m a Digimon.”

Laios has never heard the word before, but he figures he can make a reasonable guess that the ‘mon’ is related to ‘monster’ and is somehow even more curious for it.

He abandons the sword and begins blindly digging through his pack for his journal.

“Are all Digimon like you?” The journal is easy, his pencil a little harder, as Mochimon squelches down in what Laios assumes is it’s equivalent to a sit. It’s fascinating, as he wonders how exactly the muscles are moving in there for it’s body to morph like that. There has to be at least muscle of some sort, right-?

“No,” it says, sounding pleased as he starts filling a page with notes and sketches, “I was Poyomon before, and someday I’ll be something else.” Laios blinks, looking up from the journal.

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.” Mochimon tries to nod, he thinks, but it comes across more as a sort of wobbling back and forth. “All Digimon do it.” Oh, that was amazing, and fascinating, and amazing. Was it a life stage thing? How many were there? Mochimon hadn’t specified what it would become, were there different morphs? Or was he thinking too far into it? People always said he thought too far into these things… But just the idea-

“Wish I was one.” The words slip from his mouth before he can think to bite them back and he cringes at the slip. Good job, Laios, way to show your weirdness right off the bat. But Mochimon doesn’t shy away, give him a harsh and disgusted look. It just, he thinks it might be an attempt to tilt it’s head, but it’s head is about forty percent of itself (how does it fit it’s organs into such a small space when it’s got so much head to feed-?) so it’s closer to a lean.

“I don’t know if that’s a thing,” it says in a thoughtful tone, then brightens again and throws an arm up, “but if anyone can make it happen, Laios-” How does it know his name, he hasn’t even asked that yet, though somehow it feels like it should. “-it’ll definitely be us!”

He agrees. He knows next to nothing and he still agrees.

He’ll be more concerned about that later.

[venzlenes]

You swine. You vulgar little maggot. You worthless bag of filth. As they say in Texas. I’ll bet you couldn’t pour !@#$ out of a boot with instructions on the heel. You are a canker. A sore that won’t go away. I would rather kiss a lawyer than be seen with you.

You’re a putrescent mass, a walking vomit. You are a spineless little worm deserving nothing but the profoundest contempt. You are a jerk, a cad, a weasel. Your life is a monument to stupidity. You are a stench, a revulsion, a big suck on a sour lemon.

You are a bleating foal, a curdled staggering mutant dwarf smeared richly with the effluvia and offal accompanying your alleged birth into this world. An insensate, blinking calf, meaningful to nobody, abandoned by the puke-drooling, giggling beasts who sired you and then killed themselves in recognition of what they had done.

I will never get over the embarrassment of belonging to the same species as you. You are a monster, an ogre, a malformation. I barf at the very thought of you. You have all the appeal of a paper cut. Lepers avoid you. You are vile, worthless, less than nothing. You are a weed, a fungus, the dregs of this earth. And did I mention you smell?

Try to edit your responses of unnecessary material before attempting to impress us with your insight. The evidence that you are a nincompoop will still be available to readers, but they will be able to access it more rapidly.

You snail-skulled little rabbit. Would that a hawk pick you up, drive its beak into your brain, and upon finding it rancid set you loose to fly briefly before spattering the ocean rocks with the frothy pink shame of your ignoble blood. May you choke on the queasy, convulsing nausea of your own trite, foolish beliefs.

You are weary, stale, flat and unprofitable. You are grimy, squalid, nasty and profane. You are foul and disgusting. You’re a fool, an ignoramus. Monkeys look down on you. Even sheep won’t have sex with you. You are unreservedly pathetic, starved for attention, and lost in a land that reality forgot.

And what meaning do you expect your delusional self-important statements of unknowing, inexperienced opinion to have with us? What fantasy do you hold that you would believe that your tiny-fisted tantrums would have more weight than that of a leprous desert rat, spinning rabidly in a circle, waiting for the bite of the snake?

You are a waste of flesh. You have no rhythm. You are ridiculous and obnoxious. You are the moral[size] equivalent of a leech. You are a living emptiness, a meaningless void. You are sour and senile. You are a disease, you puerile one-handed slack-jawed drooling meat slapper.

On a good day you’re a half-wit. You remind me of drool. You are deficient in all that lends character. You have the personality of wallpaper. You are dank and filthy. You are asinine and benighted. You are the source of all unpleasantness. You spread misery and sorrow wherever you go.

You smarmy lager lout git. You bloody woofter sod. Bugger off, pillock. You grotty wanking oink artless base-court apple-john. You clouted boggish foot-licking twit. You dankish clack-dish plonker. You gormless crook-pated tosser. You churlish boil-brained clotpole ponce. You cockered bum-bailey poofter. You craven dewberry pisshead cockup pratting naff. You gob-kissing gleeking flap-mouthed coxcomb. You dread-bolted fobbing beef-witted clapper-clawed flirt-gill. You are a fiend and a coward, and you have bad breath. You are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I despise everything about you, and I wish you would go away.

I cannot believe how incredibly stupid you are. I mean rock-hard stupid. Dehydrated-rock-hard stupid. Stupid so stupid that it goes way beyond the stupid we know into a whole different dimension of stupid. You are trans-stupid stupid. Meta-stupid. Stupid collapsed on itself so far that even the neutrons have collapsed. Stupid gotten so dense that no intellect can escape. Singularity stupid. Blazing hot mid-day sun on Mercury stupid.

You emit more stupid in one second than our entire galaxy emits in a year. Quasar stupid. Your writing has to be a troll. Nothing in our universe can really be this stupid. Perhaps this is some primordial fragment from the original big bang of stupid. Some pure essence of a stupid so uncontaminated by anything else as to be beyond the laws of physics that we know. I’m sorry. I can’t go on. This is an epiphany of stupid for me. After this, you may not hear from me again for a while. I don’t have enough strength left to deride your ignorant questions and half baked comments about unimportant trivia, or any of the rest of this drivel. Duh.

The only thing worse than your logic is your manners. I have snipped away most of what you wrote, because, well... it didn’t really say anything. Your attempt at constructing a creative flame was pitiful. I mean, really, stringing together a bunch of insults among a load of babbling was hardly effective... Maybe later in life, after you have learned to read, write, spell, and count, you will have more success.

True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us ”normal” people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering. But we sometimes forget that there are ”challenged” persons in this world who find these things more difficult. If I had known that this was your case then I would have never read your post. It just wouldn’t have been ”right”. Sort of like parking in a handicap space. I wish you the best of luck in the emotional, and social struggles that seem to be placing such a demand on you.

P.S.: You are hypocritical, greedy, violent, malevolent, vengeful, cowardly, deadly, mendacious, meretricious, loathsome, despicable, belligerent, opportunistic, barratrous, contemptible, criminal, fascistic, bigoted, racist, sexist, avaricious, tasteless, idiotic, brain-damaged, imbecilic, insane, arrogant, deceitful, demented, lame, self-righteous, byzantine, conspiratorial, satanic, fraudulent, libelous, bilious, splenetic, spastic, ignorant, clueless, illegitimate, harmful, destructive, dumb, evasive, double-talking, devious, revisionist, narrow, manipulative, paternalistic, fundamentalist, dogmatic, idolatrous, unethical, cultic, diseased, suppressive, controlling, restrictive, malignant, deceptive, dim, crazy, weird, dystopic, stifling, uncaring, plantigrade, grim, unsympathetic, jargon-spouting, censorious, secretive, aggressive, mind-numbing, arassive, poisonous, flagrant, self-destructive, abusive, socially-retarded, puerile, clueless, and generally NOT GOOD.

I know u got this off a google. I've used it before. AND U WERE WITH ME WHEN I USED IT @myguumi

[stickerrsssss]

You swine. You vulgar little maggot. You worthless bag of filth. As they say in Texas. I’ll bet you couldn’t pour !@#$ out of a boot with instructions on the heel. You are a canker. A sore that won’t go away. I would rather kiss a lawyer than be seen with you.

You’re a putrescent mass, a walking vomit. You are a spineless little worm deserving nothing but the profoundest contempt. You are a jerk, a cad, a weasel. Your life is a monument to stupidity. You are a stench, a revulsion, a big suck on a sour lemon.

You are a bleating foal, a curdled staggering mutant dwarf smeared richly with the effluvia and offal accompanying your alleged birth into this world. An insensate, blinking calf, meaningful to nobody, abandoned by the puke-drooling, giggling beasts who sired you and then killed themselves in recognition of what they had done.

I will never get over the embarrassment of belonging to the same species as you. You are a monster, an ogre, a malformation. I barf at the very thought of you. You have all the appeal of a paper cut. Lepers avoid you. You are vile, worthless, less than nothing. You are a weed, a fungus, the dregs of this earth. And did I mention you smell?

Try to edit your responses of unnecessary material before attempting to impress us with your insight. The evidence that you are a nincompoop will still be available to readers, but they will be able to access it more rapidly.

You snail-skulled little rabbit. Would that a hawk pick you up, drive its beak into your brain, and upon finding it rancid set you loose to fly briefly before spattering the ocean rocks with the frothy pink shame of your ignoble blood. May you choke on the queasy, convulsing nausea of your own trite, foolish beliefs.

You are weary, stale, flat and unprofitable. You are grimy, squalid, nasty and profane. You are foul and disgusting. You’re a fool, an ignoramus. Monkeys look down on you. Even sheep won’t have sex with you. You are unreservedly pathetic, starved for attention, and lost in a land that reality forgot.

And what meaning do you expect your delusional self-important statements of unknowing, inexperienced opinion to have with us? What fantasy do you hold that you would believe that your tiny-fisted tantrums would have more weight than that of a leprous desert rat, spinning rabidly in a circle, waiting for the bite of the snake?

You are a waste of flesh. You have no rhythm. You are ridiculous and obnoxious. You are the moral[size] equivalent of a leech. You are a living emptiness, a meaningless void. You are sour and senile. You are a disease, you puerile one-handed slack-jawed drooling meat slapper.

On a good day you’re a half-wit. You remind me of drool. You are deficient

in all that lends character. You have the personality of wallpaper. You are dank and filthy. You are asinine and benighted. You are the source of all unpleasantness. You spread misery and sorrow wherever you go.

You smarmy lager lout git. You bloody woofter sod. Bugger off, pillock. You grotty wanking oink artless base-court apple-john. You clouted boggish foot-licking twit. You dankish clack-dish plonker. You gormless crook-pated tosser. You churlish boil-brained clotpole ponce. You cockered bum-bailey poofter. You craven dewberry pisshead cockup pratting naff. You gob-kissing gleeking flap-mouthed coxcomb. You dread-bolted

fobbing beef-witted clapper-clawed flirt-gill.

You are a fiend and a coward, and you have bad breath. You are degenerate,

noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I despise everything about you, and I wish you would go away.

I cannot believe how incredibly stupid you are. I mean rock-hard stupid.

Dehydrated-rock-hard stupid. Stupid so stupid that it goes way beyond the stupid we know into a whole different dimension of stupid. You are trans-stupid stupid. Meta-stupid. Stupid collapsed on itself so far that even the neutrons have collapsed. Stupid gotten so dense that no intellect can escape. Singularity stupid. Blazing hot mid-day sun on Mercury stupid.

You emit more stupid in one second than our entire galaxy emits in a year. Quasar stupid. Your writing has to be a troll. Nothing in our universe can really be this stupid. Perhaps this is some primordial fragment from the original big bang of stupid. Some pure essence of a stupid so uncontaminated by anything else as to be beyond

the laws of physics that we know. I’m sorry. I can’t go on. This is an epiphany of stupid for me. After this, you may not hear from me again for a while. I don’t have enough strength left to deride your ignorant questions and half baked comments about unimportant trivia, or any of the rest of this drivel. Duh.

The only thing worse than your logic is your manners. I have snipped away most of what you wrote, because, well... it didn’t really say anything. Your attempt at constructing a creative flame was pitiful. I mean, really, stringing together a bunch of insults among a load of babbling was hardly effective... Maybe later in life, after you have learned to read, write, spell, and count, you will have more success.

True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us ”normal” people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering. But we sometimes forget that there are ”challenged” persons in this world who find these things more difficult. If I had known that this was your case then I would have never read your post. It just wouldn’t have been ”right”.

Sort of like parking in a handicap space. I wish you the best of luck in the emotional, and social struggles that seem to be placing such a demand on you.

P.S.:

You are hypocritical, greedy, violent, malevolent, vengeful, cowardly, deadly, mendacious, meretricious, loathsome, despicable, belligerent, opportunistic, barratrous, contemptible, criminal, fascistic, bigoted, racist, sexist, avaricious, tasteless, idiotic, brain-damaged, imbecilic, insane, arrogant, deceitful, demented, lame, self-righteous, byzantine, conspiratorial, satanic, fraudulent, libelous, bilious, splenetic, spastic, ignorant, clueless, illegitimate, harmful, destructive, dumb,

evasive, double-talking, devious, revisionist, narrow, manipulative, paternalistic, fundamentalist, dogmatic, idolatrous, unethical, cultic, diseased, suppressive, controlling, restrictive, malignant, deceptive, dim, crazy, weird, dystopic, stifling, uncaring, plantigrade, grim, unsympathetic, jargon-spouting, censorious, secretive, aggressive,

mind-numbing, arassive, poisonous, flagrant, self-destructive, abusive, socially-retarded, puerile, clueless, and generally NOT GOOD.

(I lovb yaou… this is a copy pastas🥺🥺)

This is a copy pasta??? No way!!!! I totally definitely thought you wrote all of this out by hand!!!!

[clockwise-works]

7, 8, 15

Thanks for the lovely ask, Snail! Now, to be the opposite of lovely and bitch bitch bitch >:)

7. What character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because of how the fandom acts about them?

Oh there's a couple. If you saw my Sonic Bitching ask then I'd include Eggman and probably Sage. Since we're mutuals bonded through a love for Mipha, and a disdain for TotK I'll say... I think the easy answer is Zelda, and while I do feel crazy when seeing people say she's an incredibly complex character and her 'story' in TotK was "moving", it isn't enough to make me hate her character. I think. It is tough to say because in a vacuum, the "Miphlink enjoyer liking the Zora with technically less story than the main character princess equals a bias and take their criticism of the main princess with a grain of salt" thought process is strong, but I don't want it to come off that way. Idk, there really isn't any Zelda character I hate that I'm not supposed to, I would more so say I have a stronger disdain for how Zelda was handled in TotK in response to the aggressive praise attributed to a rather sloppy, predictable, and disappointing storyline. Also she had no arc. People who say she did are wrong, to the point TotK undoes the arc and growth done in TotK to "return to the status quo."

8. Common fandom opinion everyone is wrong about.

I REALLY hate the "Fated Lovers" trope some people have applied to Link and Zelda. And it's not just because of Miphlink, either. In my mind, I get some people love that romantic trope of finding your soulmate in every reincarnation, but it never sat right with me for some reasons. It... it feels like it results in all the different incarnations of these characters flattened and simplified, that they lose these individual traits, outcomes, storylines, just to become "fated to be together no matter what". It also just doesn't make sense fully, since by my understanding Zelda isn't a reincarnation, but a descendant. She's the descendant of the Goddess Hylia's reincarnated Hylian form, right? So why would the kid of a kid of a Zelda HAVE to get with some random fucked named Link? She's not a reincarnated soul.

Also. Ganon(dorf). The curse ALSO included Ganon(dorf) as part of the course, so unless your suggesting a romantic angle with a throuple between them (which they won't, it HAS to be the pretty pale people, not the dark skinned man) then I DO NOT understand the romantic tie to the curse. What makes Zelda and Link's dynamic in SS result in them 'bonded for life romantically'? What, because the two had some romantic chemistry? Why would THAT have any impact on the curse? What, did Demise have some fine print that stated the two of them HAD to fuck? That sick fuck...

If it's not the curse angle but instead the idea that "the Goddess has a fondness/love for Link that continues on for generations", then, one that once again flattens all the Link's and Zelda's into one character each, void of their own personality, but two. This basically insinuates that Link and Zelda lose their own individuality and freedom of choice, all by a Goddess and her 'meddling'. It comes off... weird with that angle.

Oh also Twilight Link is a descendant of OoT Link, so if both of them end up together with their respective Zelda's then there's some incest going on in the family. 💀 Sure it's a few generations away, but come on. Be a little self aware.

15. The one thing you see in fanart all the time

So unlike Tumblr, you can't block tags on Instagram. Also, tagging culture is WAY different on that site to get as much engagement as possible. The reason I bring this up is because despite not wishing to see it like at all, I get a good amount of Sidlink art on my feed. Scrolling and click on a Zelda related meme? Three posts in and you got Sidlink. Now, even though I don't wanna see it, I don't care to hate the ship at all. What I ALWAYS see in this fanart that I just don't understand is having Link wear the Zora armor. The one from someone who wished to propose to him. The one dude's sister.

Listen, I get it if Sidlink people go with the angle it was a one sided love. I don't agree, but the game left it up to interpretation. But even then, I put myself in BOTH positions and can't possibly imagine taking my dead siblings engagement gift and 'regifting' it to the person they made it for, nor can I imagine myself wearing that gift that was made by the current person I'm seeing's dead sibling. Just feels weird I guess.

Especially because I saw a full on comic of Sidon going back in time in AoC and when asked by his, reminder, DEAD sister if Link reciprocated her gift, since at this point she already knows she's dead in his timeline, Sidon bluntly exclaims he doesn't know AND he repurposed the Zora armor to gift to Link himself. Idk, that felt really out of character for Sidon, a gross disrespect, and strange. First time I ever out right blocked an artist instead of dismissing it, ngl...

no hate to that artist btw, I may not fuck with it, but whatever. Don't make your stuff centered around my tastes or thoughts

[gingerteaonthetardis]

well, @nerdie-faerie, when i tried to answer your ask, tumblr ate it. just absolutely gobbled it up and deleted my draft. but here's my response to your prompt (must be a day ending with 'y'), a little later than expected.

you gave me free reign to pick a doctor, so i chose four for reasons that i think will become clear right away. the best parts of the doctor are often his companions, you know...

anyway, in spite of the delay and technical difficulties, i hope you enjoy!

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

At the sight of the soaring toaster, Romana did the sensible thing and ducked for cover.

Leela, on the other hand—who had just dashed into the room with her hair in wild disarray—stood her ground, watching the violent exchange with her usual baffled intensity.

"What is this?" she asked no one in particular. "Are we under attack?"

As if in answer, a terrific shout—not unlike a battle-cry—rang out across the console room, followed visibly by a streak of blonde and bright, lobster-y pink, weaving through the mess.

"Help!" cried the Doctor from somewhere—behind a coat rack, it seemed like, stuffed with eccentrically-coloured furs. He apparently had chosen the spot to take shelter from flying objects. "I'm under attack!"

At the sound of his voice, Leela's jaw dropped.

"They are fighting," she marveled, turning to Romana in dismay. "Again."

"Mm, yes," Romana drily agreed. "Must be a day ending with 'y.'"

Her tone was lost on the other woman, of course, who seemed more preoccupied with observing Rose—and poor Rose, she really did feel for the girl, especially after being stranded in that awful, muggy pleasure palace for two weeks.

That is, two weeks relatively. The Doctor had actually realised his error—with a rather baffled, panicky, "Have I misplaced my wife?"—immediately and turned the TARDIS around, inasmuch as it could be done, in under thirty seconds.

However, his obvious repentance was not currently under attack. Only his driving. And Rose seemed intent on making her point using every projectile at her disposal. It was lucky for her—and perhaps unlucky for the Doctor—that the TARDIS was in the middle of something not unlike Spring cleaning.

That is, it wasn't precisely Spring anywhere nearby, and the console room could not currently be called clean, but the ship was making an effort, it seemed, to offload some of her extra bulk to one central location. Presumably, she wished for much of it—the toaster, the technicolour furs—to be taken out with the trash.

The Doctor, meanwhile, persisted in hiding in the refuse while Rose flung bits of it in his general direction.

"Two weeks!" came the shrill, emphatic cry. "I was left fending off the extremely slimy advances of some snail-faced, pond-scummy blob king for two—bloody—weeks! All because you can't be bothered to read one stupid little manual!"

Rose's words were punctuated by two flying shoes. Her own, Romana could only hope. They landed with a thunk-thunk against one of the roundels, and then fell down and knocked something over behind the coat rack with a clatter. The Doctor yelped.

"I didn't mean for it to take two weeks," he protested. "You must know that!"

"Should we break them up?" Leela asked, voice hushed.

"They had me sunbathing five hours a day!" cried Rose. "I'll be shedding burnt skin for ages! I look like a lobster!"

"A lovely lobster." The Doctor's voice was muffled by coats. A few must have fallen on him. "Prettiest of the lot."

Wrong move, Doctor, thought Romana with a shake of her head. Aloud, she said, "No, I don't think we should."

Rose made a protesting noise that was something between a growl and a squeal. She had quite an impressive range, when it came down to it. For all she was young and occasionally quite silly—now, for example—the older woman couldn't help but admire her… thoroughness. And her spirit.

And she kept the Doctor on his toes, which was certainly no small task.

Not that he needed it, necessarily. His balance was bad enough on two flat feet.

Poking her head up from behind the console, Romana tried to take stock of the rustling sound that was Rose reaching with both hands to part the contents of the coat rack, behind which she could just make out the huddled Doctor.

His knees were pulled up to his chest, and his eyes were wide. Not fearful, but sort of alarmed in a general way. His wife's distress always made him distressed, not that he was normally aware of that fact. He didn't project an attitude of particularly conscious empathy.

Rather, his feelings for Rose seemed to strike him as a frequent and overpowering surprise.

Just apologise, you buffoon, Romana thought, rolling her eyes, and have done with it. They would both be happy again, and she could get a moment's peace.

The Doctor's mind seemed to move along similar lines, though not with any particular alacrity. His face suddenly scrunched up, his brows all compressed and petulant, and he cried, "Well, all right! All right, I'm sorry. Is that what you want me to say?

"I am sorry for throwing the TARDIS manual into a Saggitarian supernova and learning—rather impressively, I think—on the fly! That is, literally on the fly, Rose. And I am sorry the King of the Snit'snails was so awful to you and boiled you alive." Here, his contrition seemed to become more genuine. Some of his indignance went away. "I'll get you some sun cream, hm? And I'll put it on your shoulders for you."

"That is kind of him, surely," whispered Leela.

"Oh, not a bit," Romana whispered back. "He's just angling to get to touch her ever again."

"We can hear you both, you know," snapped the Doctor, poking his head out from between the furs. "And you are making a mess of my apology!"

Rose spoke up before Romana could. "You made quite a mess of it yourself, Doctor," she said. But her tone was calmer, bordering on amused. The tempest was over; now, they were all sailing on relatively calm seas. She stretched out her hand.

The Doctor took it. But instead of using it to help himself up, he simply shook it a little and, when she didn't remove it, pulled it to his lips to press a kiss on the skin of her palm. Rose tittered a laugh that made the Doctor smile in his giddy, infatuated way.

Fools, the both of them, Romana thought to herself.

Leela nudged Romana's hip. "I think it is time to leave."

"Yes, I think so," the Doctor agreed, too-loudly, making eyes at Rose all the while. And rather than protest how ridiculous that would be—for they'd only come into the console room a few minutes ago, ready once again to ship out on another absurd adventure—Romana took Leela's proffered hand and retreated without a parting glance.

The mess there could be left for another day.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

more lighthearted prompts...

[kaioshin-kai]

You swine. You vulgar little maggot. You worthless bag of filth. As they say in Texas. I’ll bet you couldn’t pour !@#$ out of a boot with instructions on the heel. You are a canker. A sore that won’t go away. I would rather kiss a lawyer than be seen with you.

You’re a putrescent mass, a walking vomit. You are a spineless little worm deserving nothing but the profoundest contempt. You are a jerk, a cad, a weasel. Your life is a monument to stupidity. You are a stench, a revulsion, a big suck on a sour lemon.

You are a bleating foal, a curdled staggering mutant dwarf smeared richly with the effluvia and offal accompanying your alleged birth into this world. An insensate, blinking calf, meaningful to nobody, abandoned by the puke-drooling, giggling beasts who sired you and then killed themselves in recognition of what they had done.

I will never get over the embarrassment of belonging to the same species as you. You are a monster, an ogre, a malformation. I barf at the very thought of you. You have all the appeal of a paper cut. Lepers avoid you. You are vile, worthless, less than nothing. You are a weed, a fungus, the dregs of this earth. And did I mention you smell?

Try to edit your responses of unnecessary material before attempting to impress us with your insight. The evidence that you are a nincompoop will still be available to readers, but they will be able to access it more rapidly.

You snail-skulled little rabbit. Would that a hawk pick you up, drive its beak into your brain, and upon finding it rancid set you loose to fly briefly before spattering the ocean rocks with the frothy pink shame of your ignoble blood. May you choke on the queasy, convulsing nausea of your own trite, foolish beliefs.

You are weary, stale, flat and unprofitable. You are grimy, squalid, nasty and profane. You are foul and disgusting. You’re a fool, an ignoramus. Monkeys look down on you. Even sheep won’t have sex with you. You are unreservedly pathetic, starved for attention, and lost in a land that reality forgot.

And what meaning do you expect your delusional self-important statements of unknowing, inexperienced opinion to have with us? What fantasy do you hold that you would believe that your tiny-fisted tantrums would have more weight than that of a leprous desert rat, spinning rabidly in a circle, waiting for the bite of the snake?

You are a waste of flesh. You have no rhythm. You are ridiculous and obnoxious. You are the moral[size] equivalent of a leech. You are a living emptiness, a meaningless void. You are sour and senile. You are a disease, you puerile one-handed slack-jawed drooling meat slapper.

On a good day you’re a half-wit. You remind me of drool. You are deficient in all that lends character. You have the personality of wallpaper. You are dank and filthy. You are asinine and benighted. You are the source of all unpleasantness. You spread misery and sorrow wherever you go.

You smarmy lager lout git. You bloody woofter sod. Bugger off, pillock. You grotty wanking oink artless base-court apple-john. You clouted boggish foot-licking twit. You dankish clack-dish plonker. You gormless crook-pated tosser. You churlish boil-brained clotpole ponce. You cockered bum-bailey poofter. You craven dewberry pisshead cockup pratting naff. You gob-kissing gleeking flap-mouthed coxcomb. You dread-bolted fobbing beef-witted clapper-clawed flirt-gill. You are a fiend and a coward, and you have bad breath. You are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I despise everything about you, and I wish you would go away.

I cannot believe how incredibly stupid you are. I mean rock-hard stupid. Dehydrated-rock-hard stupid. Stupid so stupid that it goes way beyond the stupid we know into a whole different dimension of stupid. You are trans-stupid stupid. Meta-stupid. Stupid collapsed on itself so far that even the neutrons have collapsed. Stupid gotten so dense that no intellect can escape. Singularity stupid. Blazing hot mid-day sun on Mercury stupid.

You emit more stupid in one second than our entire galaxy emits in a year. Quasar stupid. Your writing has to be a troll. Nothing in our universe can really be this stupid. Perhaps this is some primordial fragment from the original big bang of stupid. Some pure essence of a stupid so uncontaminated by anything else as to be beyond the laws of physics that we know. I’m sorry. I can’t go on. This is an epiphany of stupid for me. After this, you may not hear from me again for a while. I don’t have enough strength left to deride your ignorant questions and half baked comments about unimportant trivia, or any of the rest of this drivel. Duh.

The only thing worse than your logic is your manners. I have snipped away most of what you wrote, because, well... it didn’t really say anything. Your attempt at constructing a creative flame was pitiful. I mean, really, stringing together a bunch of insults among a load of babbling was hardly effective... Maybe later in life, after you have learned to read, write, spell, and count, you will have more success.

True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us ”normal” people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering. But we sometimes forget that there are ”challenged” persons in this world who find these things more difficult. If I had known that this was your case then I would have never read your post. It just wouldn’t have been ”right”. Sort of like parking in a handicap space. I wish you the best of luck in the emotional, and social struggles that seem to be placing such a demand on you.

P.S.: You are hypocritical, greedy, violent, malevolent, vengeful, cowardly, deadly, mendacious, meretricious, loathsome, despicable, belligerent, opportunistic, barratrous, contemptible, criminal, fascistic, bigoted, racist, sexist, avaricious, tasteless, idiotic, brain-damaged, imbecilic, insane, arrogant, deceitful, demented, lame, self-righteous, byzantine, conspiratorial, satanic, fraudulent, libelous, bilious, splenetic, spastic, ignorant, clueless, illegitimate, harmful, destructive, dumb, evasive, double-talking, devious, revisionist, narrow, manipulative, paternalistic, fundamentalist, dogmatic, idolatrous, unethical, cultic, diseased, suppressive, controlling, restrictive, malignant, deceptive, dim, crazy, weird, dystopic, stifling, uncaring, plantigrade, grim, unsympathetic, jargon-spouting, censorious, secretive, aggressive, mind-numbing, arassive, poisonous, flagrant, self-destructive, abusive, socially-retarded, puerile, clueless, and generally NOT GOOD.

[cottakit]

Starstruck Fear Info Dump!

Like all people, humans and monsters alike, Starstruck has fears. A lot of them are caused by past trauma in their AU, and therefore I will be hiding them below the cut! As they could be potentially harmful to people with trauma of the same type. There are also a few more sneak peeks into Starstruck's character and past!

Check out other Starstruck posts: Starstruck's Design 1.0! Meet Starstruck! Starstruck's Magic And Attacks!

Starstruck's fears range from true PTSD to simple phobias. Their common phobias include the fear of spiders. That's about it, the only fear that they have that isn't related to any sort of past events is the fear of spiders.

More in-depth fears include the fear of failure, the fear of abandonment, the fear of exclusion, the fear of being forgotten, the fear of making enemies, and the fear of being misunderstood. These aren't the most out-of-the-ordinary fears, but they still tie in with their backstory, and so it is in this section.

I will be explaining all of the reasons below, which will reveal quite a lot of their backstory!

So, for the fear of failure: This fear started to bloom when Starstruck was a mere child and used to be in responsibility of their two brothers. They used to go without food for days at a time just to feed them both. They would do errands for the occupants of Waterfall for food or money. Waterfall soon became their only safe space. However, when crossing over the disproportionately small gap during an errand, they slipped and dropped both of their brothers. One was caught by the bird, thankfully carrying him across to the other side safely, and the other... Starstruck had been dropped in the water themself but managed to scramble out without getting washed away by the current like their baby brother. They swore they could see something from the corner of their eye before their brother sunk down into the water. What was yet to come of those sights and possible hallucinations, they wish they could've stopped. They now feel that if they make any mistake, no matter how small and insignificant it might be, it will end with the same tragedy that caused their family to go from three to two.

For the fear of exclusion, and the fear of being forgotten: As they grew older, they were no longer as helpful to the people of Waterfall. Who were once friendly kids that they could play with, were turning into adults with their own lives. They could no longer distract themselves with a game of fetch, tag, or snail racing. Their friends were no longer interested in those sorts of things. Even their own brother had made his own friends. Sure, that was a good thing, but it left them alone once again. They wanted to play with their brother and his friends, but they were older by a few years. They didn't belong anywhere. But don't worry, their brother grew up to hang out with his older sibling again!

For the fear of making enemies: [REDACTED] used to poke around at their little brother, which made them suspicious of it. Its intentions were clear. Therefore, they were in denial of it, keeping their brother away from it. It did not like that. It was there to hurt him. It was there to hurt them. And that is what it did, years into the future when Starstruck and their little brother thought it was gone. Starstruck has felt dizzy ever since, an ever-spinning parasite in their brain. It would never let them go. Why would it? They were mean to it, they were enemies, and they deserved this eternal mental torture. At least that is what is constantly rushing through Starstruck's mind when they are alone.

For the fear of being misunderstood: They had told everybody around them that [REDACTED] was not safe, that it had ill intentions. But nobody believed them. They swore to see them in the corners of their eyes, to see them lurking from a distance, seeing them clung to their brother when they looked away. Everybody thought they were simply psychotic. It was friendly! It was always smiling and always had such a happy tone. They passed it off, telling them that they were in the wrong. The gaslighting went on for years, until [REDACTED] lashed out and finally proved itself horrid. But, soon after, no one was left to rant to about how they were right the whole time.

That's all! That was a big info dump! Both brothers' names will remain unknown, and so will [REDACTED]'s, until the AU is complete. Thank you to everybody who read up to this point!

~Cottakit

[takaraphoenix]

I don’t see myself as a Karen. I’m not the type of person to complain. The mere thought of asking for someone’s manager actually seems terrifying.

But this past week and my interaction with Google support makes me wish I could actually talk to the manager or whoever is the superior of the person I’ve been talking to, because this is not just the worst customer experience I’ve had, this was just straight-up rude and dismissive and now I’m just being... flat-out ignored.

For the past week, I’ve been trying to buy channel membership for College Humor, because as you might have noticed, I’ve fallen down a Dimension 20 membership and while I wasn’t ready to pay with my own money for it when checking it out first because I didn’t even know what it was or if I’d like it, now that I did check it out and am loving it, I very much want to pay actual money for it, it feels like the universe is against me. It keeps failing and I keep getting an error message that tells me that there is a “problem with my address” every time I try to make the purchase.

Since the error message tells me the problem lays with PayPal, that’s where I first went. And PayPal support was wonderful! They replied very quickly, they checked everything, were helpful. Everything seems to check out on my PayPal account. And that makes sense, because on my PayPal account, I can see the transaction order for Google, like, it’s there, it is set up, it looks like I bought this thing, like it went through, despite Google claiming it didn’t.

So my next stop was Google support. And somehow, for some reason, I expected quicker response times from GOOGLE, since that’s a huge company I assumed they would be behind quickly responding to support. One email a day. That’s such a snail-pace response time I’ve honestly never seen before.

And it was the same email each day. Three days in a row. Regardless of how much I rephrased and emphasized my problem, I got the same reply back. Every time, they would reply with a variation of “the problem is with PayPal, please contact PayPal support!” and “there is no failed transaction linked to your account”.

Even though every time I explained to them that there is no problem with my PayPal account. Even though I said that I can see the transaction order on my PayPal account - I mean, how can you claim this has to be a PayPal problem if things go through on the PayPal side of this? If you don’t even have a failed transaction there? If nothing is happening on your side? Then something went very wrong there.

Completely ignoring anything I say. Just repeating themselves. In one email a day. Until they just stopped answering me altogether.

And I have never in my entire life felt the urge to channel my inner Karen more than in this moment, seven days into trying to purchase this youtube channel membership, four days into trying to talk to this rude-ass Google support person who has the conversational skills of a fucking brick wall. I just want to talk to a person, who will actually read the email I sent them, who will consider what is written in said email and give me the feeling that I am being heard and will make me feel a little less like I am slowly going insane.

Because seven days into this, I am starting to feel like I’m going insane and the repetitive behavior of the echo-chamber that is Google support has greatly factored into this.

All I want is to watch the newest episodes of Game Changer. That is literally all I want to do. How. How is this happening. This is the first time in my life that I am willing to pay for a form of streaming. And it is not letting me. And the process here is feeling like some divine punishment set in Hades itself.

[nispakamuy]

For the vast majority of his life, this day had meant nothing to him— a day like any other, completely unremarkable. Even Tanabata was lost on him, as the countries he'd primarily lived in since his childhood didn't celebrate it. And yet, this was the third year now that he'd awoken on this day with a head full of wishes tangible enough to commit to tanzaku, strong enough to visualize as he blew out candles.

Not his candles, of course, but his responsibility to blow out, nevertheless.

Such was the duty he carried in his heart as he went through the day— this year more enjoyable than the last, and that year magnitudes more bearable than the first. The company was pleasant, and all in all, it was a fun day. He really, truly loved the people fate had chained him to; he could admit that. Despite the walls of ice he'd caged himself with, he had never been immune to their warmth. Of all the wishes he held today, perhaps the desire to melt was the only one that was truly attainable. Ghost that he was, he wanted them to see him even still. And, on days like today, those walls didn't seem so insurmountable.

He'd entertained a certain idea— considered, thoroughly, for quite some time. And yet, no matter how much thought he poured into it, trying out worst case scenarios like outfits in his head, no matter how sure of himself he was, he was filled with trepidation as he began a new text to Rinne shortly after all the official proceedings were through. He trusted his unit leader. That much was not to be questioned. After all, he knew. However, the logic did little to quell the upwelling of uneasiness within him— or the glow of warmth that had led him to bring this up in the first place.

Would you like to spend HiMERU's birthday with him? The company may be good for him. We can meet in the lobby.

Along with the text, he sent his location... decidedly not Ensemble Square. After all, on today of all days, more than even his intact facade, only one thing mattered.

It only took a second that whatever Rinne was doing (pachinko. it was pachinko) was less important than replying to this.

[ didcha send dis to the others or you asking me on a date merumeru???? ]

[ pls dont get my hopes up too much im but a fragile maiden~ ]

He cackled to himself, pocketing in his earnings while awaiting a potentially snarky reply. "Alright alright~..."

[ Wait wait Mewumewuuuu~~~! ] He sent the sticker of a cat holding a heart. [ Wait for me I'll be right there~ didcha eat? I just won some good bucks lets get crepes it will be c~u~t~e~! Let's get matching ones~~~! ]

And he was running over there: Meru making the first move?! This was a once in a year (literally?) opportunity not to miss, no matter what! Although he could have made a joke given the wording of the text about finally meeting the famous HiMERU, 'tis was but an intrusive thought Rinne shook off. This particularly stubborn unitmate was one to move at a snail pace... and he would walk alongside him every step of the way.

It was not so hard to spot HiMERU in a crowd. Even if he was hiding his identity through accessories, he had a constant elegance to him only professional models had (as if they were photographed 24/7). Plus... it was Meru! No way Rinne would not spot him a mile away.

The gambler hid behind a pillar, noticing the other busying himself by a few young fans recognizing him, probably wishing him a happy birthday.

The perfect time to sneaky sneaky behind this delightful blue-haired guy and JUMP at him the moment the fans are out of sight.

"MERUMERU HAPPEH BIRTHDAAAAAYYY~~~~!!!!"

[alynicoleee]

Beginning of Forever: Chapter Eighteen

Title: Beginning of Forever (Chapter 18) Pairing: Tim Lincecum / OFC POV: Third Person - Tim Lincecum Rating: PG-13

Tim walked around his dad's house and noticed that his dad had set up a few Christmas knick knacks around the place. His dad had never been one for decorating - their holidays had mostly been meek and quiet, just the two of them for many years.

Tim had wished Alyssa a happy thanksgiving and she had responded back, stating that she hoped he had a nice time with his family. He sat in the kitchen island drinking coffee when his dad walked him.

"Good Morning Tim".

"Good Morning Dad. I like the Christmas details starting to pop up."

"Thanks. I thought I'd add something to cheer up the place a little."

Tim nodded and stared into his cup.

"You okay son?"

Tim looked up and sighed. He hadn't talked about Alyssa to anyone, but kind of wanted to.

"When did you know you were ready to move on? After Mom left?"

Tim and his father's situation wasn't the same. His wife had passed away after they had been together for ten years. While his mom had left his father one day after they had been together for over fifteen years. They had both lost their partner but in significantly different ways. He knew it wasn't the same - but maybe his dad would be able to offer some sort of perspective.

Tim's father, Chris, sighed. "I don't know if there was ever a point where I said - I'm ready. Now is the time. For a few years there I lived vicariously through you, through your career, so I didn't really have time to even think about a relationship. I want to say that it was once I stopped missing your mother, once the empty feeling went away. I think that's when I knew I was ready."

Chris paused waiting for a response from Tim. When he didn't get one he continued, "Are you thinking that time is moving too slow? Or maybe too fast? There's no definitive time table here. No one can tell you if it's too soon or not soon enough. Only you'll know when the time is right. If it feels right."

Tim had been listening to his dad and looked back down into his cup. "I met someone. And I don't know. Sometimes I feel like I'm ready to go and start something but then other times I feel guilty, like I'm moving on too fast."

Chris sat down next Tim and placed a hand on his shoulder, "It's okay to feel guilty. But Cristin wouldn't want you to dwell and be alone forever. She'd want you to be happy and find love again."

"I know. And I tell myself that Cristin would be okay with my moving on, but then I'll go a few days where I don't even think of her, and that's when I begin to feel guilty. And I know that's not fair. To me, to her memory, or even to the woman I met."

"You want to tell me about her? Or is that prying into something that you don't even know where it stands right now."

"You know it's never prying Dad. And I always value your input. You know Drew and Sean were down in Miami in late October. Drew being Drew decided he'd download one of those dating apps on my phone and set me up with a profile. I didn't think I was even going to use it but I did. For the most part the app was pretty mundane, matches didn't really go anywhere - but than I matched with this one woman - Alyssa. I think what made it different with her was that she seemed so relaxed and nonchalant right from the beginning. And she knew exactly who I was - but never made a big deal out of. In fact, even now I don't think she's ever mentioned anything about my playing days. She knew who I was but treated me like just another random match. I liked that."

Tim moved to put his cup in the sink as he continued talking, "We went out twice and the connection was incredible. It felt like I had known her my whole life and then I got scared that everything was feeling right and maybe moving too fast. So I kind of back tracked and we started over, going slower. But sometimes I feel like it's a snail pace, but I don't want it to feel rushed either. But she's amazing. She's giving me space and time to figure everything out, but I don't know if that's even fair to her and I don't want to hurt her either.

Tim sighed as he leaned against the countertop and waited for his dad to tell him something he didn't want to hear, but instead Chris just sat and responded, "Son, good things are allowed to happen to you too. And they don't need to be difficult, or hard or come with sacrifices. They can just be."

[drrutherford]

ayda--demir​:

Ayda smiles when Gideon speaks. It seems they have something more in common. She could definitely relate to the driving them up the wall. “I think they rather enjoyed seeing how far they could push me. Though, at the end of the day, I was the princess.” It only lasted until she was day, then everything changed. “I still hold the nickname princess.” She smiles. “I have met Yvonne. She is lovely, and little Maddie.”

She raised a brow when he agreed to let her teach him Turkish. “Are you  ready to spend more time with me? My teachings might include food and drinks. Turkish of course. Give you the full experience.” It had been some time since she last cooked for someone. Her elbow nudges into his arm. “Remember, four brothers. I think you’ll be much easier than they were.” Ayda was quite certain he would be. 

“Deal.” She looks to him cleaning up the glass. “You can leave that. I’ll clean it up later. Right now, you are going to have some Raki with me and we can share embarrassing stories. They always sound much better once you’ve had a shot or three.” Ayda laughs, moving from around the bar, making her way to a table off to the side.

.

Gideon snorts. “Wish I'd been ‘the princess’, in that case.” But no, as eldest, he had always been taxed with being the responsible one; the one who should make the right decisions. It hadn’t always panned out that way in practice, but it was ever a charge he felt nonetheless. He looks up in surprise when Ayda mentions Yvonne, forgetting once again that he’s not really a stranger to her. “Isn’t she just?... They’re both lovely.” Gideon smiles, feeling a stab of fondness at the thought of his sister and his niece.

Ever the surest way to his heart; through his loved ones.

“Food, drinks, and free language lessons?... Wow yeah, that’s a really hard sell.” The surgeon deadpans as she elbows him amicably. “I’d love to. Though I’ll warn you up front, I may really be the world’s worst student.” With all on his mind these days; from custody battles to family dramas to repairing vital friendships, the surgeon’s fairly certain he’ll make for a particularly snail-paced learner. 

But as they toast their first shot of Raki and get to swapping embarrassing stories, new Turkish words trickle into the conversation effortlessly between laughs; quickly learned, but even more quickly forgotten, thanks to the ample amount of alcohol flowing between them. Soon, other customers begin trickling into Ayda’s bar, and eventually, not long thereafter, the Rutherford takes his leave.

— End