#yeah both of those should be new years goals or something

[emma-d-klutz]

I posted 10,808 times in 2022

That's 5,931 more posts than 2021!

752 posts created (7%)

10,056 posts reblogged (93%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@a-smart-dumbass

@sapphire-wine

@rose---child

@laughter-is-universal

@galahadwilder

I tagged 2,037 of my posts in 2022

#batman - 56 posts

#bruce wayne - 40 posts

#battinson - 32 posts

#the batman 2022 - 23 posts

#harry osborn - 20 posts

#the batman - 18 posts

#dick grayson - 18 posts

#duke thomas - 17 posts

#peter parker - 16 posts

#scarecrow - 15 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#me: -sees a set-up happen repeatedly in a genre- me: ah i see this must be this commentary on how the genre views identity and sense of self

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Someone: And then the punchline is a cute little mouse pun!

Absolutely deranged terf about to elevate this post to meme status at light speed: OH so you wanna FUCK THE MOUSE GIRL, you pervert?! This could have been cute if it weren’t so blatantly horny!! Obviously if the first thing I pictured was a hentai boobblob, that was rotten OP’s intent and has nothing to do with me. 

Like I can’t believe this is a subgenre of post now. For how long will it go on?

2,278 notes - Posted June 14, 2022

#4

the batman fandom is actually like 16 different fandoms for the same guy. some of these states actively hate each other. most of them are unaware of the existence of others. you probably know, at most, 5 of these independent states. realistically you’ll know 1-3. I’m right.

2,679 notes - Posted February 2, 2022

#3

I think there should be a funny Wayne dinner table story about the time Tim broke Jason out of jail, got home, and heard from Dick how sad he was he had to put Jason in jail. 

3,693 notes - Posted September 1, 2022

#2

Post-movie, some of the Riddler’s followers decide they gotta tie up his one loose thread and take out Bruce Wayne live on stream. They are thwarted because:

Bruce Wayne never leaves his house

The Wayne residence is no longer accepting physical mail

One time they caught him, and a swarm of bats and smoke obscured the camera, and then he was gone, presumably rescued by the Batman live on camera. 

Similarly, one time they were staking out Wayne Tower to watch for when he leaves again, and they made direct eye contact with Batman. Who then smacked them around, tied them up, and left. The police show up in half an hour.

One of them climbed in through the window and was promptly shot by the butler. In the background, you hear him and Bruce Wayne arguing about it and the butler assuring him he only used rubber bullets and Wayne will never find all of his guns. 

They successfully kidnap him. He looks sad and bored the whole time. They try to torment him for the viewing audience, but he just mumbles, “You guys are so embarrassing,” and slips out of his bindings as if they were loose all along.

They are so embarrassing. 

The next time, Bruce Wayne tells them to just go home. Their numbers are dwindling. Bruce is wearing a ratty tee-shirt and boxer shorts and is entirely unarmed. They go home. 

8,461 notes - Posted April 4, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I’ve seen at least three Stacy’s Mom parodies about Stacy’s Dad. I have seen one about her brother. This poor girl. I am going to write a parody from the point of view of her one aroace friend who is trying her best to reassure a wary and distrustful Stacy that she’s really just here to hang with Stacy and just her and has no ulterior motives. 

17,102 notes - Posted July 2, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[fruitjoos]

i choose you

Part I | Part II

babydaddy!art x boyfriend!patrick x reader

summary: you and art had a baby right after college, but you were both so young and had different goals, so you split. despite the separation, you co-parented well and moved on. then you met patrick, who brought a new light into your life and made you feel like yourself again. time moved quickly, and patrick wants to meet your daughter. When art and patrick finally come face to face, it stirs up old feelings and challenges. now, you’re left questioning whether you’re as strong as you believed.

warnings pregnancy talk

It was one of those warm summer nights that should have felt serene, yet the air thrummed with a tension you couldn't shake. You stood at the edge of the driveway, arms crossed, watching as Art pulled up, your daughter in the backseat. Your pulse faltered the moment he stepped out of the car. He looked exactly the same as he always had—composed, familiar, and infuriatingly steady.

This wasn’t where you thought you’d be at 25. Pregnant before you were ready, tied to a man you still loved but couldn’t seem to build a future with. You and Art had tried. When your daughter was born, you both clung to the dream of a family, thinking love would somehow mend the cracks. But love wasn’t enough. The breakup wasn’t explosive; it was the kind that left loose ends—unanswered questions and words left unsaid.

A year after the split, you met Patrick. He was different, uncomplicated. He brought laughter back into your life when you’d forgotten how to even smile. With him, life felt lighter, easier. After a year of dating, it seemed to be getting serious. He asked to meet your daughter, and for once, it didn’t feel overwhelming. It felt like the natural next step.

But Art lingered, a shadow over everything.

As you walked the pavement, Patrick trailing behind you, you hadn’t expected the world to tilt. Art was helping your daughter out of the car when he turned toward the house, his eyes instantly locking onto Patrick. For a moment, time stalled.

Patrick froze, his easygoing smile flickering into something softer, uncertain. His lips parted in surprise, a flicker of relief crossing his face, as if seeing Art was a dreaded confrontation he was somehow relieved to face. His shoulders relaxed slightly, and in that brief exchange, a faint echo of the friendship they once shared surfaced, a time before everything went wrong.

"Art?" Patrick’s voice was low, tentative, as if he were testing the weight of the name in the air. No anger, just surprise, perhaps even a hint of warmth.

Art’s reaction, though, was colder. His expression hardened, eyes narrowing as he glanced between you and Patrick. The sight of Patrick standing there, next to you, stirred something deep and bitter inside him. The last time they’d seen each other, their friendship had crumbled, leaving only unresolved tension in its wake. And now Patrick was here, comfortable, a part of the life Art had once imagined for himself.

“Patrick,” Art muttered, his voice as cool as his gaze. He couldn’t hide the jealousy that bubbled beneath the surface. His hand tightened slightly on your daughter’s shoulder as his eyes flicked over the scene before him. Patrick, beside you, looking like he belonged. Art’s jaw clenched. Patrick wasn’t supposed to be in the picture, but there he stood, like a ghost from the past Art hadn’t wanted to face.

You stood between them, feeling the tension thickening. You glanced between Patrick’s softened expression and Art’s tightened jaw, confusion swirling inside you.

"Oh, you two know each other?" Your voice broke the silence, a strained attempt to defuse the mounting tension.

Patrick gave a small, uneasy smile, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, you could say that."

Art’s eyes flicked to you, sharp, unreadable. "We used to." His tone was cool, laced with an unmistakable edge.

You walked toward him, your nerves fluttering. "Be nice," you whispered, locking eyes with him, the intensity between you a little too familiar. "Patrick’s a good guy. I really like him."

Art raised an eyebrow, smirking in that cynical way you knew too well. "I’m always nice."

You shot him a look, exasperated. "I’m serious. Please, don’t do this."

But there was something in his gaze that told you it was already too late.

Dinner began smoothly enough, or so you thought. Patrick was his usual charming self, effortlessly making your daughter giggle. But Art was watching, his eyes narrowing at every laugh, his mouth tightening when your daughter leaned into Patrick, laughing at his impressions.

Then it started—slowly, almost imperceptibly at first. Art casually questioned Patrick’s job, poking at his easygoing attitude. The comments grew sharper, until finally, Art set his fork down and said, "You don’t seem like the marrying type. Too... temporary."

Patrick tried to brush it off with a chuckle, but you noticed the tension in his jaw, the way his grip on his wine glass tightened.

Art didn’t stop. "Let’s be real. This isn’t going anywhere long-term. We have a child together, that’s forever. You and me? We’re family. Things always come full circle."

Your stomach dropped. The room fell into an awkward silence as Patrick’s smile disappeared. You glared at Art, but he just leaned back, clearly satisfied with himself.

The rest of the evening dragged on, the atmosphere thick with silent resentment. By the time Art left, your daughter tucked away in bed, Patrick had gone quiet. He stood in the kitchen doorway, his hands shoved into his pockets, staring at the floor.

"Are you okay?" you asked gently, placing a hand on his arm.

"Do you want to marry me?" His voice was tight, catching you off guard. His eyes searched yours, filled with a doubt you hadn’t seen before. "You talked about marriage with Art... but you’ve never even mentioned it with me."

You opened your mouth to respond, but he continued.

"And kids... Do you want more? With me? Or is that off the table because Art’s already in the picture?"

"Patrick, no..." You sighed, running a hand over your hair. "It’s not like that."

"Then what is it?" His voice cracked, the frustration spilling over. "Because right now, it feels like I’m competing with him. Like no matter what I do, he’ll always be part of your life. Your real life."

Your heart clenched at his words, guilt gnawing at you. "This isn’t about you," you said softly. "It’s not about choosing him over you, or whatever contest you think he’s trying to win. I just... I can’t pretend Art doesn’t exist. He’s my daughter’s father, and that’s never going to change."

Patrick’s face softened, but the hurt lingered in his eyes. "I just don’t know if I can keep feeling like the second choice."

Your chest tightened. "Patrick, you’re not the second choice. You’ve brought light back into my life. Something I didn’t even realize I needed." You took his hand, but he hesitated. "I’m still figuring this out, and I can’t rush into anything. Not after everything that’s happened. Not when I’m still trying to be the best mother I can be."

Patrick exhaled slowly, his shoulders loosening as he pulled you into his arms. "Okay," he whispered, his voice warm against your hair. "No rush. Just us."

But the unease lingered in the days that followed. It seemed as though the tension had lifted, but beneath Patrick’s lighthearted demeanor, something deeper simmered.

One evening, as you sat on the couch after your daughter had gone to nap, Patrick’s voice broke the quiet.

"I know you need time," he said softly, his eyes serious, "but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m still competing with him." He looked down at his hands. "Hearing Art talk about how you two are a family... it got to me. Maybe I shouldn’t let it bother me, but it does. I see the way he looks at you, and I just—" He paused, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I don’t know if I’ll ever be enough."

Your heart twisted at his words. "Patrick, you are enough," you insisted, your voice strong. "What Art said…that was him trying to get to you. He knows how to push buttons, but it doesn’t mean anything. What matters is us."

Patrick sighed, his voice small. "But what if he’s right? What if, in the end, you and Art end up back together? You have a child with him. That’s a bond I’ll never have."

You reached out, cupping his face in your hands. "Art and I are over. Yes, we have a child together, and that will always connect us. But that’s all it is. I’m with you now. I chose you."

Patrick’s eyes softened as he exhaled shakily. "I just needed to hear that."

You smiled, leaning in to kiss him softly. "Let’s move on together. No more worrying about Art. No more doubts. Just us."

And for the first time in a long while, you felt a glimmer of hope. Despite the history with Art, you were choosing a future with Patrick. And for now, that was enough.

It was well past midnight when your phone lit up beside your bed, casting a soft glow over the room. You squinted at the screen, heart sinking slightly when you saw the name: Art.

You hesitated, thumb hovering over the message. Patrick was fast asleep beside you, his breath steady and calm and oblivious.

Are you up? Can we talk?

Your pulse quickened. It wasn’t like him to text this late. You thought about ignoring it, but something in the pit of your stomach told you that if you didn’t respond, he’d show up at your door. And besides, you were already awake, thoughts of Patrick’s earlier words still gnawing at you.

Yeah, I’m up. What’s going on?

The reply was instant.

I need to see you.

Slipping out of bed quietly, you tiptoed into the living room, sitting down on the edge of the couch. You didn’t know what to expect, but there was an uneasy feeling in your chest. After a few minutes, your phone buzzed again.

I’m outside.

You stood and crossed the room, pulling the curtain aside just enough to see his car parked out front. A sigh escaped your lips as you opened the door, stepping into the cool night air. Art was leaning against his car, hands shoved deep into his jeans pockets. His eyes found yours immediately, a mixture of desperation and some other odd, unreadable emotion flickering in their depths.

“What’s going on?” you asked softly, wrapping your arms around yourself to ward off the chill, though you knew the cold had nothing to do with the sudden shiver running through you.

He exhaled heavily, pushing off the car and stepping closer. “I just... I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About us. About our daughter.” His voice was low, rough, like he hadn’t slept in days. “This isn’t how things are supposed to be.”

You swallowed, unsure of where he was going with this, but the unease in your chest only grew. “Art, it’s late. If this is about something with our daughter—”

“It’s not just about her,” he interrupted, running a hand through his hair, his movements agitated. “It’s about us. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. How we were. What we had.”

A pit formed in your stomach. “Art...”

He took a step closer, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made you feel like the ground beneath you was shifting. “We’re supposed to be together. A family. I don’t care what happened between us in the past. I still love you. I never stopped.”

Your heart stuttered, confusion swirling in your mind. “You can’t just say things like that. We’ve both moved on. You know that.”

“Have we?” he shot back, voice sharp. “You can sit there and tell me you don’t feel anything when you see me? When we’re around each other?”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words got caught in your throat because the truth was more complicated than you wanted to admit. There was always a pull with Art, always a part of you that couldn’t forget what you had shared. What you had lost.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” you whispered, shaking your head.

“Well, I do,” he said, stepping closer still, his voice urgent. “You and I have a daughter together. We are bound for life, whether we like it or not. And that means something. We’re a family. We should be together. Not... not split up. Not dragging other people into our mess.”

You froze, your mind immediately jumping to Patrick. “What are you trying to say, Art?”

He sighed, frustration coloring his features. “Patrick isn’t part of this. He’s an outsider. I don’t care how much fun he is or how good he makes you feel. He doesn’t belong in this, with our family.”

Anger flared inside you, but you bit it back, refusing to raise your voice in the middle of the night. “Art, you don’t get to make that call. Patrick has been there for me in ways you haven’t.”

His jaw clenched. “Because you never gave me the chance. You shut me out. We broke up, and suddenly, you’re with him. What about us? What about trying to make this work for the sake of our daughter?”

“We tried,” you reminded him, your voice wavering. “We tried to make it work, and it didn’t. We hurt each other, Art. You know that.”

His hand reached out, gently brushing your arm, the touch so familiar it sent a shiver down your spine. “But we can try again. We should try again. For her. Don’t you see? A family is supposed to be together. Not fractured. Not pulled in different directions.” His eyes searched yours, the desperation there making your heart twist. “We owe it to her to give this another shot. To be a real family.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, the weight of his words pressing down on you. A part of you wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe that it could be as simple as that. Trying again, picking up the pieces, and finding a way back to each other. But the other part of you, the part that had spent months rebuilding your life, knew it wasn’t that simple.

“And what about Patrick?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. “He’s been good to me. To her. I can’t just throw him away because you suddenly decide you want us back.”

Art’s expression darkened slightly, his voice dropping. “He’s not part of this equation. You and I are the only ones who matter here. We have history. A family. He’ll never understand that the way I do. He’ll always be on the outside looking in. Can you really see a future with him, knowing that I’m always going to be there? Always going to be a part of your life?”

You bit your lip, your mind spinning. He was right about one thing. Art would always be there. He wasn’t someone you could just forget, or leave in the past. And that had always been the hardest part of trying to move on.

“I don’t want to hurt him,” you whispered.

“And I don’t want to hurt you,” Art said softly, stepping even closer, his voice low and persuasive. “I just want us to be a family. A real family, without anyone else getting in the way.”

His hand cupped your cheek, his touch warm, and for a moment, you felt yourself falter. You thought of your daughter, of the life you had once imagined with Art, the life that had slipped through your fingers. Could you really just let that go? Could you really keep pretending that Patrick was enough when this was the man you had once built your world around?

“We can do this,” Art murmured, his thumb brushing gently against your skin. “We can make this work, I know we can. Just give me another chance. Give us another chance.”

Your heart ached, torn between the weight of your past and the uncertainty of your future. And in that moment, standing in the stillness of the night with Art’s hand on your cheek, you didn’t know what to believe anymore.

[genericpuff]

This plot point annoyed me so much! I thought she was finally going to open up to Persephone about the reasons why she hated Hades so much, about what he did to her, but no! They just introduced a new yet unnecessary character to the story 🤦🏼‍♀️

What are your thoughts about it?

oh yeah it annoyed the piss out of me too and for one very big reason that is CHRONIC in LO:

It's a solution to a problem Demeter didn't have.

This happens to a lot of characters throughout the comic. They'll have some kind of plot-driven conflict or character-driven flaw, and then it will be solved by something else entirely that had nothing to do with their original problem or doesn't line up with the theme of their storytelling. Minthe had insecurity issues and a toxic relationship with Hades? Just give her a classroom full of children to babysit! Hades had infertility issues? That's fine, Persephone somehow fixes those issues because at the end of the comic they have babies and Hades has his happy ending so it's fine! Hera was in an unhappy relationship with Zeus and had trauma from her past as a victim of Kronos? No problem, just make her an all powerful fertility goddess! Persephone accidentally causes winter which kills possibly thousands of people? Gaia is here to save the day, and also she's the one who makes Persephone return to the Mortal Realm for a couple months with full visitation rights. Apollo is a serial rapist who's attempted murder on several occasions, even against his own father in an attempt to take the throne? Community service, that'll solve it.

Demeter is one of the biggest examples of Rachel's inability of writing an actual cohesive plotline. She writes like the only goal is to come up with new twists to keep people reading each week without ever considering what themes or questions she should be answering throughout. So when she does pose questions, the answers often wind up being severely disconnected because she can't be bothered to actually plan out a plotline with narrative structure, she just needs 'things' to happen. To put it bluntly and simply, she writes like how a 13 year old on Wattpad would write, no actual thinking about the material she's presenting, no consideration for the curtains and what color they are, just "make the things happen so that people will keep reading because that's what writing is!"

Demeter's problem wasn't her failing to understand Persephone. It was people failing to understand her when she had reasonable cause to both be wary of Persephone moving to Olympus as well as Hades and his intentions with her daughter. But because Rachel needs to have the perfect happy ending for her self-insert power fantasy couple, she resorts to gaslighting both Demeter as well as the audience by extension into believing that the solution to Demeter's character arc... is understanding Persephone more.

Like first of all, the moral "people just want to be understood" is way, WAY too "baby's first storyline" at this point in the story especially when we've tried to tackle much bigger topics like sexual assault, and when we know how complex Demeter's backstory is. There's no way she needs to be told by Hebe that people just want to be "understood". She absolutely knows this already, and has been fighting to be understood by her siblings and peers and family for centuries, but of course, everyone sees her as just "the contrarian".

But then the final solution is... the sudden appearance of Demophoon as her long-lost child, and Hades giving her the volcanoes. That's it. She doesn't get to actually become Queen of the Mortal Realm, she never really gets closure over the past 2000 years of abuse from everyone around her, Hades just - like with everyone - buys her affection and she gets a new baby to pour her attention into instead of Persephone and we're all just forced to go along with it for the sake of Rachel's fantasy.

Rachel can't write (￢_￢;)

[pinkyjulien]

I did not expect hostility over my Flat Chest mod, so I'll half acknowledge it and kill some of the assumption before they take roots in other people's minds

No, I did not make this mod *because* I refuse to support Na's flat chest mod

Initial Mod idea was a working "binder" for Fem, something you'd equip to flatten the chest- like a real life binder, basically. It's part of my To-Do list of June, for Pride

The mod evolved as I got more ideas, I also started working on a body replacer, it's basically ready to ship as well, but I decided against it; not to step on toes and causing confusion with two "flat chest" body mods, knowing there is also another one in the work from a fellow modder

(the binders themselves will come much later, and will be available for both fem and masc body frames!)

Again, the mod started as a "binder"- I mentioned it multiple times, either in servers where I started sharing the idea, and in the tags of my mod post

"Binders" are not costumes. They are gender affirming aid, something a lot of person use; I've made a couple of "wearable" / "switchable" body parts mods in the past already, including a trans masc vagina, I really hope you don't see this as a costume as well?

In the universe of Cyberpunks, implants and synth skin are used by everyone, for all kind of purpose; GNC people, trans people and gender-fluid people would probably use implants and cyberware to sculpt themselves, feel comfortable in their body

Who's to say some rich citizen wouldn't have some fancy switchable body pieces- hell it's even canon in game, Mr.Stud and Mrs.Midnight? Switchable boobs are already a thing, I don't see what's wrong with switching up for a flatter chest

The survey's results aren't out yet, so I couldn't know. But that's beside the point, as my mod isn't a "bandaid" for any issue this fandom may have

If the name is causing trouble, I'm open to changing it; but the main goal, again, was to flatten the vanilla fem V chest, and I think "flat chest" is pretty straight forward for nexus users

Mmmh. Sorry but, no

Everyone is different and handle their own space differently, and I do not want to support people who did me, or my friends, any serious mental health damage. Be it from harassement, witch hunt and whatnot

I won't be dragging in there old drama from 2 years ago, but I simply won't support someone who tried to get a friend of mine fired from their work place, threatening to send a 30+ pages google doc to their leads and boss, and dragging all of their personal beefs to the public on multiple social medias. They ruined my friend's mental health, and I simply won't forgive nor forget.

That is my right. And I wish people would accept and respect that.

I won't tell anyone who to support or what mod to use/not use, NOBODY should tell you what to do, what to support, who to like or dislike; and nobody can control who I must support and what I must do. Simple as that

And I'm glad the flat chest body mod exist for people who wish to use it! I'm offering another option that I'm sure some people will find useful

Thank you :)

People already gave me trouble in the past for "doing work that already exist"

Those past few weeks has been eventful when it comes to "drama" especially involving Zwei, who's notorious for having a modding monopol and gatekeeping ideas in general

Let's not bring that same mindset here, yeah?

Everyone is free to mod what they want, whatever body they want, to refit what they want!

Again, just to point it out, mod isn't there to fix a problem, that's just a mod I wanted to make

It's a brand new mod, meaning it needs refiting; I did not test the flat chest bodymod, nor tried the already existing vanilla refit. And I won't, for the reasons I cited aboved a few lines before.

I'm glad you agree! Nobody has to do things they don't want to

You call it disingenuous, and I call it having principles/self respect; again, crazy how different people are from one another, and how we just can't assume everyone work and react the same as we do

I see, I see, the name is a big issue; I'm open to suggestion, feel free to leave a reply and I'll see what catches my eyes

Cause It's still my mod, so I get to decide

Anyway, hope this cleared up a few things, and sorry this made people upset!

For everyone else, thank you for the support 🧡

[dissociation-station123]

Consumed

Choso One Shot: Choso X Reader

He is a tiny bit obsessive in this one. Mature content. Smut ⚠️

Warnings: rough; oral; voyerism; jealousy

There is a beat in everything around us. The varying tempos fill your mind at all times. An angry couple argues across from you. Soft tap of the rain against the cafe window. The steady hissing of the espresso machine. You tap your finger against the marble table as you messily write 2 then 4 across your chaotic staff paper.

Unable to stop as a whirlwind of inspiration fills you. You nearly jump out of your chair when you look up and see dark purple eyes staring at you with adoration. “Choso…” you mumble, taking a breath.

“Hey…” his soft voice greets you warmly, a soft grin. “I didn’t want to interrupt. Is this for the next gig?” You nod trying to stay focused on him. You felt bad when you got distracted by the sounds around you.

“You amaze me.” His expression was both comforting and overwhelming. You could feel how much he truly cared for you. In the past it was terrifying. You had no idea why he was so captivated by you. Now hearing things like this were common. Which was strange in itself.

“The groupie is here!” A loud playful shout invades the space between you. Satoru Gojo pulls up a chair to sit beside Choso, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

Choso blushes as he stutters to respond. “I’m not…” he looks to you for help but you shrug. “Ugh…” You see him bury his face in his hands and you giggle. He could be pretty adorable. At the sound of your laughter Choso looks up in awe.

“Anyways!” Satoru rolls his eyes. “Is our genius drummer going to be ready?” He turns to you and grabs your papers, frowning at your dischord.

You snatch them from his hand. “You know I will be.” Satoru leans over and ruffles your hair with that signature wide grin. You knew him well. Your band started up in high school and you started receiving small gigs right after graduation.

“I’m so excited I can barely sleep.” He says, you see that he is unable to sit still. “Already sold out! This is our dream.” You don’t correct him, this was the rest of the group's goal. You just wanted to be able to create in peace. Your dream was already fulfilled a while ago. “All of those people are coming to see us! In the stadium we fantasized about playing all those years ago.”

“Yeah…” you mumble, suddenly worried. You know you should be fine. You have played large crowds countless times now. Anytime you are presenting something new, your anxiety flares to life. A nudge of a foot under the table makes you look up. Choso winks and you smirk.

Before you could thank him, people outside began screaming. Your eyes widen and you see Satoru sigh. “Sukuna must be outside.” The flashy lead singer of your band drew attention everywhere you traveled. Once he was recognized that’s when you become noticed as well. You were a private person so you were always careful. But with him around being anonymous became impossible.

Satoru also enjoyed the spotlight. Playing to the crowd but today you did notice he was wearing plain clothes with a mask. “Toji! Get Y/N back to the hotel.” Satoru orders the man who sat a few tables away.

The large man walks over as you grab your belongings. Just as you scooped your last item into your bag, his large arm wrapped around your waist. Those green eyes peer down for a second before scanning the best exit. Eyes full of a song, something about his expressions always made you want to pry.

You glance over your shoulder for Choso, and his gaze has darkened. “Stalker keep up.” Toji grumbles to Choso and you watch his Jaw twitch and fist clench.

“Cho…”you call out to him, in an instant he snaps out of his ruinous mood, glancing at you with a euphoric manner. You give him a thumbs up and he nods.

Toji quickly and expertly guides you through the crowd, unnoticed. The large gathering of people was enamored by Sukuna and now Satoru.

You make eye contact with Sukuna as you pass and he grins, which always looks mischievous. He reminds you of the Cheshire Cat from Alice and Wonderland. The pink hair adds to the imagery.

Toji goes to open the front door of the large Escalade but before you could enter you are tugged backwards into a hug. “Alright…” Toji mutters exasperated and he opens the back door. You look up and Choso is clinging to you glaring in the huge man’s direction.

Choso motions for you to get in and you do. You only manage to look around for a second before he is pulling you close. His hand caressing your back as the other holds you to his chest. His heart raced at a fast pace. You tap your finger on his thigh to the count, a feverish tempo.

Toji enters the driver’s side and starts the car. “You alright Miss?” He asks, there is concern in that deep octave.

“Mmhmm.” You manage to answer though Choso was suffocating you at the moment with his pectoral, his hold tight.

Hearing you speak Choso glances down and his finger traces your lower lip. Searching your face for any type of worry. “I’m fine.” You say to ease his anxiety.

His lips were on yours before you could mutter another sound. Swallowing you whole, aggressive and possessive.

It was rare to see Choso like this. He was always so gentle and sweet towards you. You respond to the kiss, moaning as his hand travels to squeeze your thigh. His tongue prodding into your mouth not giving you time to take a breath.

“Needy little guy…” You hear a raspy chuckle from Toji. “It’s kind of cute.” Choso growls in irritation, against your mouth. He must be more bothered by the bodyguard than you realized.

You make a startled squeak as he pulls your hoody above your head in one quick motion, tossing it onto the floorboard. Choso leans down caging you under him, those violet eyes wild and flushed cheeks.

Lowering his face near your shoulder and neck, he inhaled your scent. His hand slipping under your shirt, he takes hold of your breast. You let out a gasp as his thumb finds your nipple above your bra and caresses it.

“Cho…” You go to ask him what’s wrong but he sucks harshly on your neck and your head falls back. You gave into him so easily. He knew all your weak spots. He reaches under the lacy material to pinch your bud and you swallow a moan.

Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, your mind slowly slipping to the pleasure. Choso groans deeply as you begin to grind up against him, his hard cock pushing against your now tingling cunt.

His teeth scrape along your shoulder as he marks your flesh. He bites your lower lip tugging it down. “Open…” You listen and he tightly grips your chin. You whine as he spits into your mouth and then roughly his lips were on yours again, you knew they would bruise. The pain right now was intoxicating.

All you could sense was Choso, suffocating you with his presence, his touch. “You’re so perfect…. Perfect…” He whispers as he begins to remove your sweat pants, tossing them beside your hoody.

“Fuck he is crazy…” Toji’s amused voice, you can hear it but it is distorted. You were drowning in the feeling of Choso’s tongue now on your thigh, warm, wet, and the metallic ball, to many sensations. He spread your legs with no shame, with one goal in mind. Determination and madness visible on his face as he sucks your inner thigh.

He moves the lace panties to the side, licking his lower lip in anticipation. “Y/N you're so wet…” His long finger slides up and down your folds, slowly. The sound of your arousal is obscene but turning you on even more. You cry out and arch up to guide him. The door handle digging into your back, the pain is nothing compared to your need for him.

“It is because of me right…” a light swipe to your clit and you curse. “Not because a perv is watching through the rear view mirror?” Your sweet Choso sounded sadistic. You were now putty in his very capable hands.

“Of course…ahh.. because of you! Fuck please Choso.” You whimper loudly, begging him. He laughs coldly and a shiver runs up your spine. The usual gentle expression full of consideration is nowhere to be found. You cup his cheek affectionately and he leans into your grasp, eyes closing, humming contently.

“I would go insane without you…” He whispers then kisses your palm. You watch as he brings his fingers coated in your juices into his mouth, savoring your taste. Choso groans as he licks the finger clean.

He lowers his face between your legs. “To not be able to taste you…” He blows onto your pussy and a desperate cry escapes from your lips. “Fuck not to hear you…”

Your body jolts and you scream out his name when his tongue finally licks a few stripes down your folds. Your cunt convulsing from being edged. “To fucking feel you!”

He shoves his tongue as deep into you as possible. The tongue ring running along the ridges making your mind blank. Your body is on fire, sweat glistens on your brow. You could not catch a breath.

He shows you no mercy, his nose pushing on your clit. He prods in and out as if he was rabid. Your legs are now shaking uncontrollably. He mumbles something that remotely resembles “I love you” over and over again.

You crumble so easily under him. You scream as your whole body twitches. Your orgasm hitting you like a truck. White blinds your vision and you feel tears on your cheek. Drool pools in your mouth and your heaving for air.

“Shit!!” You hear Toji curse and a loud honk, the vehicle swerves a bit. This brings you back to reality. You try to organize your chaotic thoughts. “Sorry about that.” Toji reassures you both.

You look at Choso whose amethyst eyes were wide, in shock. The two buns that were neatly placed on the top of his head now a mess due to you grabbing onto them so tightly.

“Y/N…” He whispers so gently. He looks around as if coming to his senses. “Are you ok?” He picks up your sweats and rushes to cover you up.

“Cho…” He is apologizing repeatedly, “Choso look at me.” You take hold of his chin and he lets out a sigh. “It’s fine. Toji is a professional. Right?” You look up at the bulky man as he pulls into the hotel garage. Your voice stern causes him to smirk, your vision drawn to the scar on his lip.

“Yes miss. I signed a contract.” Toji says confidently. Though you see his gaze lower, you grab your hoodie and quickly put it on. “Trust me I’ve seen crazier things.” Those emerald orbs glance at Choso as if to challenge him.

Choso swallows heavily and his fist clenches. You roll your eyes and hear Toji chuckle. You open the door and yank Choso with you. You hear the window roll down. “Speaking of confidentiality, if you need an extra hand.”

You knew what he was insinuating. You groan as you grab Choso’s arm feeling him lunge. “Goodnight Toji.” You say gruffly pulling Choso with you towards the entrance.

“Night doll.” You glare at him and it only fuels his laughter as he drives away. Choso is shaking. You take his hand intertwining your fingers. His pupils wide, he looks down at you, biting his lip.

You don’t speak and he does not protest as you lead him inside. A heavy silence follows you all the way to your room. As you remove your work from your bag, a loud yawn escapes.

“You need rest.” Choso who had sat down on the bed beside you cooes. “No more working.” He was so beautiful. You reach up to undo his hair, the black locks falling to his shoulders.

“I’m not tired.” You respond as you lazily caress his hair. You see his eyes droop in comfort. He suddenly shakes himself out of it and stands. He paces around the room slowly.

“Are you mad?” He asks more to himself than to you. “You need to rest. Are you hungry?” He glances over and you shake your head. “You haven’t really eaten my love. Well I could run down to see about getting some whiskey for you. Ooo and run you a bath! I bought those bath bombs you like.”

“Choso…” He doesn’t hear you as he begins formulating his plans. “Cho!!” You shout and he freezes. “I want you. I just want you.” You hold out your arms and the worry on his face fades within seconds. He bounds into your arms.

“Just me?” He looks up at you gleefully and you nod. “Y/N you can’t say things like that…” You watch his ears and cheeks turn red. His glance fell to the floor shyly.

“But it’s the truth.” You whisper studying his features. “You're so pretty Cho.” You cup the back of his neck to force him to look at you again. He holds his breath overwhelmed by your compliment. “Can you be rough with me again?”

“I'll do anything. Whatever you want. Anything.” Choso says without breathing. Obsession written all over his features. “Just tell me and I will do it.”

[copperbadge]

Hi Mr Starbuck! Some friends and I are moving in a few months and we're eyeing various places all over the US. Chicago came up as a relatively affordable big city (compared to LA and NYC) and I have to ask the resident Tumblr Chicagoan his opinion. As a resident who lives and works in the windy city, what's your big pros and cons of residing there (especially things you might not encounter as a tourist)? (also, how accurate is your "guide to chicago" still, since its been a few years!)

Well, I definitely have opinions!

The guide to Chicago is no longer accurate -- too many places have closed or moved, and the pandemic altered a lot (for example the Money Museum still exists but I'm not sure if it has regular hours even now). I should do a new one but like, I really don't get out much anymore so I can't talk about restaurants outside of a VERY local area, and I never could talk much about hotels, which just leaves points of interest mostly already covered by Atlas Obscura. :D At this point it'd just be kind of moot, others are doing it better than I am.

Chicago is inexpensive compared to New York or Los Angeles, but like, that's everywhere in America. Chicago is still a quite pricey city to live in, mainly because the taxes are so high -- 10.25% sales tax, for example, and my property taxes are also pretty steep. People joke about Taxachusetts, but I'm pretty sure Chicago at least has it beat (and 2/3 of the state's population lives in Chicago or the outlying suburbs). Housing is not at a premium in the way it is in NY and LA but depending on where you want to live and how far you want to commute it can still be very expensive. My housing was never less than half of my monthly income until I bought this place, and then ONLY because the job I'm in now came with a $10K/yr raise from my last one.

Chicago does have great culture, great museums, great food, and it's a liberal island in a pretty conservative region. It is however quite segregated, so if you are any race other than white, living here can get a little more complicated than I've portrayed it as a white dude. There is significant crime and particularly gun crime, but it's generally confined to specific regions of the city. That said, even if you discount crime, the Chicago PD are corrupt as fuck and uninterested in being helpful, so if you are from a demographic the cops enjoy harassing, it will not be different here.

I do love the city, warts and all. I like the water, I like the people, I like the midwestern vibe. I'd find it very hard to leave, especially because I have a network of friends here, but also because I just plain like it and I know it really well. There is a very short list of cities I'd consider leaving Chicago for, and most of those would have to have a well-paying job waiting for me. But it did take me time to fall in love with it -- it took a few years before it felt like home.

It's a little difficult to get more specific without knowing more about your situation -- what you do for work, what your budget is like, what your goals are in leaving where you are. Do you prefer to drive most places? (Parking and traffic can both get dicey.) Can you tolerate taking public transit if driving is inconvenient? Is the industry in which you work something that has a lot of openings here? Do you want to live in an urban environment, and if so are you prepared to live in a likely somewhat shitty apartment to do so? If you prefer to live in a house, are you prepared for a long commute? What do you like to do for fun and is there a thriving culture for that here? What is it important to have access to -- museums, concerts, theater, sport? Where do you need to travel to regularly (ie, I go to Austin several times a year) and how do you prefer to travel there?

Anyway, yeah -- like, I love it but I have few illusions about it. If you want to chat further feel free to hit me up by email, happy to answer more specific questions!

[vaalthus]

End of Magic Part 2: Grand Finale of Book 3 (spoilers)

My My, what a magnificent conclusion

The rather terrifying realization that Aequilibria isn't just erupting to kill everyone on Lore to wipe its shell clean of "impurities" but that it is literally going to snuff out those lives to get the mana everyone has back into itself. Which was somewhat clear when it initially introduced itself to the Hero but it's becoming pretty easy to see why it sees no issue with what its doing since from the Elements' perspective they're only taking back what they loaned out in their new little playground.

The fact that this "aspect" refers to the Aequilibria as a separate entity or designation from itself only further cements my suspicion that Sk'aar, the god of nightmares, is indeed in some shape or form a part of Aequilibria. Another aspect, or sub-function if we consider potential ties to Mechquest, but something that is based on either thoughts or dreams but that is something I wish to put under a microscope another time.

It's a small thing but I just love that in short amount of time our little mage trio have learned to piggybacked onto each other's spells for cooperation. Ya love to see it and speaking of things I love to see...

Our dragon child entering a rebellious streak against their parents!!!

I'm totally going to choose to believe this image is nothing more than a quick background cutaway for the Aspect's ultimate attack. I'm definitely NOT going to bring up the fact that it used a rune coloration affiliated with the Infernals from the Exaltia Tower. I'm also definitely not going to bring up the fact that Notha mentioned that "Evil" was the "Will of the Infernals"

>:]

Ooof sure hope the Wastes have some answers on this because uh yeah...

Ya know it's fascinating that Alexander has become this sort of big brother/uncle figure at this point in the story though after all he's suffered and all he's been able to reconcile it makes a lot of sense that he has a few bits of wisdom to deliver and kindness to provide the innocent. His advice here about duty should not be ignored though. It's been brought up before, but the Hero's rather obsessive need to be THE hero in people's lives, to be that constant helping hand, is something that could destroy them if they aren't careful.

As it stands now, our primary goal is going to be keeping Aequilibria from killing everyone which is no easy task with this scenario, not to mention the new conflicts that will surely arise from this aftermath or those that have been lying in wait to be a problem later. Hopefully, when that time comes, the hero will not make the same mistakes as both his enemies and his allies have made when the challenges ahead prove to be too much to bear alone.

THE TRUTH JAANIA!!!: We woke up god, you realized you were wrong, and now we all need to work together before an uncaring deity swallows us whole with mana juice.

This saga tragically began with three and it ends with three, ends in acceptance and peace. Rest well gang, may you reawaken to a world where your efforts did not go to waste.

Ooof that's a lot more new fissures than I was expecting and there's no telling how many may have opened on the lands we can't see like Lhe'Shiyac.

Not sure how to feel about this news. On one hand, it makes sense to have someone from our side of the world to try and give the Shapeless Empire some much needed perspective on how it rebuilds in the coming years and it wouldn't do to have Alteon return and cause potential problems with his daughter's newfound authority. On the other hand, I can't imagine how pissed or hurt Victoria, Brittany, and Tara might be when they find out he just kind of bailed to be an adventurer. Additionally, I'm not sure how much assistance he'll be in changing the Magesterium but I guess that's a job for Ostromir and Vseslava perhaps?

As in you guys will be using more ethical approaches, right? RIGHT!?!?!?

Us and our dragon riding off into the sunset into an uncertain but hopeful future was honestly the best way to end this chapter. To the devs a very pleasant thank you for the effort you put into this game after all these yea-

YO WHAT THE CLUCK ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT BUTTON, CYSERO!?!?

[transboysokka]

thinking about sokka's issues and the absolute breakdown he would have after the war...

for as long as he can remember he's had one ultimate goal: to take down the Fire Nation. why? because they took his mother from him and his loved ones will never be safe until their threat is eliminated. he's always been busy working toward that goal: protecting his village so his dad could go off and fight them, traveling with the avatar to take down the fire lord... now he has no goal for the first time in a long time.

what would that do to him? what does he have to work toward now? will he find something new? yeah. but the Dangerous, Important thing here is that now he has time to rest. to breathe.

to think.

to process.

will his Repression Tactics hold up? or will he be sitting in the Fire Nation palace waiting for Zuko's coronation, leg broken so he can't even TRAIN, surrounded by All This Red, and suddenly think of the loss of his mother? will he finally have a private moment to mourn? will those feelings have festered for years until they come out like a tidal wave and suddenly everything catches up to him all at once: the moments of despair he felt over harsh winters in the South, the moments of terror he felt facing the Fire Nation traveling with Aang, the horrors and realities of war that no one, let alone a child, should ever have to see so up close and personal in their lifetime. has he killed anyone? will he wonder if he has?

will the thoughts and memories and feelings be able to stop when he goes to sleep that night?

why can't he be truly happy for his friends on Zuko's coronation day?

why isn't his leg getting better?

Katara notices. of course she does. she offers to talk about it but how can Sokka open up to her when he's so affected by things he always worked so hard to protect her from?

months pass.

Sokka is still at the Fire Nation palace after everyone else has started to move on because where else is there to go? he still can't walk right. he still can't sleep right. Katara's started to leave him alone. she says there's not much she can do for the physical side of his recovery.

he starts, with great effort and his handy crutch, to wander the palace at nights and finds that he's not the only one who seems plagued by nightmares.

he finds Zuko in the kitchens one night, and neither of them dare talk about it, but Sokka can tell his issues and Zuko's are not entirely all that dissimilar.

they start spending more time together. at night. when it feels safest to open up. and they slowly do.

they start sharing things they haven't told anyone, about how they feel completely and utterly broken after the war and they just can't seem to find a way to put the pieces back together. Sokka shares about everything he's been feeling. how sometimes he sees a certain shade of red on a tapestry and feels like he's back on that airship at the end of the war. he wishes his dad were here. he wishes his mom were here. Zuko shares about how he is afraid of becoming just like his father. how he hasn't been eating. how he still cant visit an entire wing of the palace because it reminds him too much of his own mother.

the two of them end up telling each other all of their issues and secrets and start helping each other where they can. Sokka helps Zuko figure out his food situation. Zuko helps Sokka with his pain and learning to walk again.

they both start to slowly get better.

eventually they realize that what they've been missing since the end of the war... is each other.

Sokka decides to stay in the Fire Nation.

[octuscle]

CHAVTF - Dan and Dick

Richard was excited to see his son Daniel's new apartment. Daniel had moved out of his home in Mayfair a few weeks ago. For his work, the Eastend was better located. And Mayfair was indeed nothing for young people by now. Richard himself was considering moving away. He was now retired, and his wife had been dead for over a year. Perhaps a change of scenery would not be wrong.

The inspection of the new apartment did not take long. Small, functional. And still full of moving boxes. So Daniel suggested going to dinner at one of the nearby restaurants. Richard agreed. He was starting to get hungry. They had been walking for a few minutes when, completely unexpectedly, a heavy downpour came down. Although they quickly took cover under a tree, they were soaked to the bone. And then a huge amount of bird droppings slapped down on them. Their clothes were ruined.

Richard laughed. "It's all no drama. There's another store up ahead, we can get a dry and clean jacket there." Daniel hesitantly countered that this wasn't Savile Row, but Richard said they'd find something appropriate for dinner in the East End. They entered CHAVTF. A small store, crowded and not very clear. At the cash register at the entrance sat a young man with a shaved head, playing with his cell phone. When he saw Richard and Daniel, he began to grin. And a large wet spot formed in his crotch from the precum. "Oi mates, you looking for something dry? There are two changing rooms up ahead, strip down and I'll bring you something." Richard and Daniel found the approach a bit odd, but followed the request. The locker rooms smelled musty, the floor wasn't particularly clean, and strangest of all was the large hole in the partitions at belt height.

"You lads prefer boxers with those big dicks of yours, don't you?" " You bet your ass I do," Daniel replied. "Here you go. Aren't really Calvin Klein, but good quality." Richard pulled on the shorts. He massaged his cock. Felt really massive. "And here are socks. Size 12 should fit." The two put on the white athletic socks. They immediately got dirty on the greasy floor. "Tell me mates! Are you guys brothers? You look a bit alike." "Fuck, yeah," Daniel replied. "Here are some jeans. See if you like them. And who's the older of you?" Richard pulled up his pants. He'd never worn ripped jeans before. But they felt great. And they sat so low on his hips that you could still read the Calvin Klein lettering super. That's how he'd imagined it. "The older one is me, mate," Richard said. "But only three months. We're half-brothers. Dad screwed anything that couldn't run away fast enough." Dan replied that Richard's mother, however, had also been a whore who had let everyone have it. "You got it, bro! Your mom's not a whore, of course. And where did all your brothers and sisters come from?" replied Dick.

"Here's two cool pairs of shoes. Let's take a look, mates," the store attendant said, pulling the curtains aside. Dan and Dick grinned and posted for fun. "Wow, your training is paying off, Mates! You both box welterweight?" "Nah," Dick said. "I'm a lightweight. But I'm working on it. The goal is middleweight already." "You guys are probably going out clubbing today. T-shirts for clubbing?" Dan said they were going to get drinks at the gas station first. And then maybe to the pub. But T-shirt is fine." The store attendant tossed them two black T-shirts. Dan and Dick put them on and took out their chains. They were quiet for everyone to see. "Why aren't you both inked, anyway? Your tattoos are really coming along!" Dick stroked his neck and arm. Yes, he was really proud of them, but they had cost a lot of money. And Dan just had to save up a little bit of money, then he would surely get a tattoo.

Fortunately, they had collected a lot of money today. The two fine toffs Dan and Dick had stolen the coats from had been carrying a lot of cash. "Mates, the jackets really go with your outfit. Can't nobody tell they're not Moncler." The two put the jackets on. The pal was right. They looked awesome! "Mates, did you want to earn a £100 discount on the clothes. If one of you blows the other in the booth through the glory hole and I can use the video on Tiktok, everything together will only cost 50 pounds. Dick tossed a swiped credit card to the store attendant. "We'll pay by card, but we'll do it for 100 pounds cash."

Once the two were back outside, Dick had to light a fag. Dan still had the taste of Dick's cum in his mouth and declined, grinning. "Not until after the next beer. Your spunk tastes like shit." "And yours tastes like piss!"

[deadmomjokes]

Do you have any adventures of bean to share before you sign off for a bit? good luck with the move!

I wish I had more specific ones, but life is all blurring together at this point so I must settle for Tidbits: Moving Edition

She loves to pack stuff. I have no idea where it's coming from, but holy cow this kid. She's going to be the only reason we're completely packed and ready to go on time. Every morning, she hops in my bed and goes "Can we pack another box?" And any time we're not actively doing something, "Should we pack more boxes?" Her dad whispered to me earlier, understandably dumbfounded, "What is with the packing thing? Why is she so into this?" And she somehow heard it from the next room and merrily hopped in holding the roll of packing tape and said "I dunno, I just really like packing things." So... yeah. She's keeping us on task.

She has Plans for the drive. -First, we need to eat at Subway (she was very excited to learn she can, in fact, have Subway in moderation). -Second, we need to stay at one of the number hotels-- those being National 9, Super 8, and Motel 6. (She is bummed there's no 7 hotel.) -Third, if we successfully get a number hotel for one night, we also need to do a Red Roof Inn some other night. -Fourth, she wants to go inside a gas station and look at the maps. (She means the visitors guides and brochures that truck stops have when they're near-ish to state lines and/or tourist destinations.) -Finally, she wants to borrow my phone to take pictures. Unbeknownst to her, we are getting an old digital camera tuned up and outfitted with a child-proof case so she can have her own camera, because when she starts taking pictures it's an hours-long affair, and I kinda need my phone for GPS purposes. We're presenting her with said camera next weekend when we get the trailer, so hopefully she'll stay occupied while we do the part of packing she can't actually help with. But yeah, she knows how to set realistic, attainable goals, and I honestly think we can make these things happen for her.

She's been obsessively watching that Bluey special every day, and it Concerns me. See, she's generally quite media literate, and knows how to separate fiction from reality, and we had our big group cry about leaving our friends the first time we watched it. But. I am deeply worried that she's under the impression that we'll get all packed and ready to go and then do what Bluey's family did and decide to stay. I desperately hope not, but hoo boy, if that is the case, that's gonna be one heck of a 4-day drive. We've tried bringing it up and talking about it, but we still can't tell what's going on in that little noggin.

She is really, really sad about leaving her friends. I know that's not fun to hear, but honestly, I'm really impressed and proud of the way she's been handling it. She's come up with some great coping mechanisms all on her own: asking if we can get everyone's parents' Facebooks so we can do video calls, asking if we can do a party before she leaves so she can play with her school friends again (both yes, of course), and the one that truly floored me-- she asked if we can find "a new therapy place" when we get to where we're going. My four year old asked if she can go back to therapy, y'all. She's been 'graduated' since before Christmas, but she remembered that it helped when she was feeling anxious all the time and wants to do that again after we move. I just... Holy moly! I am so, SO proud of her for how she's so in tune with herself and her needs.

Her requests for our next housing situation have been few, but very specific. It has to let her get a pet, either a rabbit (maybe two so they can be friends), or a ball python, or both. It needs stairs so she can bumslide down them. It needs a pantry with a shelf she can reach for her snacks. And she'd really prefer if it had hard floors so we can get a fuzzy rug. We don't have it on lock yet (fingers crossed!), but the place that looks most likely meets all of these criteria.

That's all I've got for right now, because I need to go pre-plan what tomorrow morning's packing adventure is going to be so I don't have to think about it two minutes after opening my eyes.

[staygoldfics]

They See Right Through Me

Summary: Darry's only sixteen when his parents die, and after two years in the foster care system he makes it his goal in life to bring both of his brother's home. But what happens when Sodapop has spent his time in the system on the west side? And what happens when Ponyboy spent his time in the system in New York?

Chapter Two: You're Lost and I'm Scared

Warnings: Food mention, lightly mentioned abuse. If I forgot anything please let me know.

You can also find this on AO3

Chapter One

Taglist

“Are we gonna go inside or?” Ponyboy asks, awkwardly nodding towards the door.

“Yeah- yeah sure.” Darry places a hand on Soda’s back, guiding him gently to the door, Soda swallows as the trash bag crinkles under Darry’s fist, he feels like every nerve in his body is on fire, like something is horribly horribly wrong.

They all step into the house, Ponyboy entering last, the door shuts quietly behind them. Soda watches as Pony’s eyes roam over their small living room, taking everything in as though the space is new to him, Soda wonders how much Pony remembers of their childhood home. Was it so different now? Without their parents, without their friends, the house feels empty. Soda had thought it would finally feel full with Ponyboy home. Soda watches as those stormy gray eyes land on a neatly hung picture of their family from years ago, their parents standing on either side of the three brothers, all of them laughing. When Ponyboy takes a deep breath and then quickly looks away Soda wonders if they should take the picture down, none of them can stomach to look at it these days. Pony’s eyes haven't become any softer, if anything he looks more upset, anger holds the place where sadness belongs, and Soda wishes he knew why. Soda wishes he could read his baby brother's mind the way he used to when they were little.

“Are you hungry?” Darry questions, having paused in the hallway between their bedrooms and the kitchen, he’s still holding that stupid trash bag, Soda hates it.

Ponyboy’s cold eyes turn to their oldest brother but he doesn't respond, he simply shrugs and makes his way further into the house. “Where am I sleepin?”

“Our old room” Soda says, trying his best to smile. “Darry is gonna move into mom and dad's room eventually. I'll take his room and then you can have our room. But until then we'll be fine bunking together like we used to, right?”

“I guess.” Ponyboy grumbles. “Can I?” He hesitates, moving closer to their bedroom.

“Yeah! Yeah of course honey! This is your home, you can-” Soda doesn't get to finish the sentence before Ponyboy is shutting their bedroom door in his face.

The door doesn’t slam but it’s enough to send Soda over the edge, it’s all so overwhelming, the quiet anger, the silence, the crushing disappointment, the way the trash bag crinkles as Darry sets it on the ground next to the door, the shut door. Soda tries to hold back his tears, really he does, but the second Darry pulls him into a too tight hug Soda can’t help but begin to cry.

“I know Pepsi-Cola. I know.” Darry whispers, keeping his arms wrapped around Soda as he gently guides his brother into the kitchen, nudging Soda into a seat at their small dining room table. Darry’s fingers slide over the old wood of the table, anxious and searching for something to hold onto. “Breathe Soda.”

“He’s- Darry he looks so- so” Soda hiccups softly, shoving his hands into his eyes in an attempt to stop his tears. “I thought- he didn’t even- lord, I couldn’t even hug him- those bruises-”

“He’s home, a few more weeks and he’ll be home for good. Let's focus on that for now, okay? I need you to stay strong little buddy.”

It’s not an option, not a request. Sodapop must stay strong, has to hold it together. They all do or they put everything, all of Darry’s hard work these past few years, at risk. So, despite the tornado of emotions tearing Sodapop apart he nods, and does what he has to in order to calm himself down while Darry gets started on dinner. Soda turns on the tv, unable to take anymore silence and then helps Darry cook. They don’t say anything, but Darry’s tense the entre time the weight of the world holding him down, Soda wishes he could do something to take some of the burden. When the food is ready Soda shuts off the tv and gently knocks on his bedroom door, flinching when the door swings open almost immediately. Ponyboy looks the same as he did an hour ago except for the red around his eyes, had he been crying? Soda's heart breaks at the thought of his baby brother hiding in their room to cry alone, as a kid he used to come running to Soda when he was upset.

“Darry made stew if you're hungry.” Soda steps back as Ponyboy silently steps out of the room and into the kitchen, he follows silently behind. The overbearing silence is back, he can't remember a time when the house was this quiet. Even after their parents died there hadn't been a quiet moment, there was always noise. Crying, screaming, apologies from people he knew and people he didn’t, promises of prayers for a family no one was willing to help. Whispered promises of a better future Soda wasn’t sure Darry would ever be able to fulfill.

In a way Sodapop can't explain it feels as though there's a complete stranger sitting at their dining room table. Of course, things change, people change, but Soda likes to think he hasn't changed that much in the last three years. Steve is still his best friend; he still hates school and loves going to drag races. He's still himself even if he's changed, even though he spent two years on the West side. He could say the same about Darry, despite how tired his big brother is these days he's still Darry. But Ponyboy… He's a complete stranger. Everything about him is new, his clothes, his hair. God even his voice is completely different. Ponyboy had been such a bright, kind, loving kid. He cried once when he accidentally stepped on a bug, Steve had teased the poor kid for weeks. Now though Pony looks angry, horribly angry, he looks like he couldn't care less that he's finally seeing his brothers again after three years of being separated. He looks a hell of a lot like the boys in the tougher gangs, deep on the East side. The anger, the silence, it’s all Soda can think about, it breaks his heart.

“I took the weekend off of work.” Darry says suddenly, Soda guesses he's gotten sick of the silence too, tired of watching Ponyboy push the same piece of broccoli around on his plate. “I thought we could all do something together.”

“The gang is itching to see you.” Soda chimes in, perking up at the idea of getting out of the house. “We could go to the drive-in with them, or maybe play football in the lot? Or if you're not up to seeing them we could go visit mom and dad's grave? You probably haven't-”

“No.” Ponyboy snaps and then he pauses, and slowly he takes a deep breath before speaking again. “We can go to the drive-in, or the lot. I don't care. I don't care what we do.” There's a moment's pause, everyone trying to process the sudden outburst. Soda wonders briefly if this is the same Ponyboy from all those years ago.

“Is there a reason you're so upset with us? I thought you'd be happy to be home.” Darry says, blunt as a baseball bat, Sodapop expects an explanation, or maybe even silence, what he doesn't expect is for Ponyboy to ask.

“Why aren't you in college?”

Darry's brows furrow, his hand curls into a fist around his fork, for a moment he looks just like their dad. Soda holds his breath, watching as Darry straightens in his seat, as his jaw clenches, “What?”

“You should've gone to college, that’s what you were suppose’ to do.” Ponyboy says and then he stands, chair scraping harshly against the floor. “I’m not hungry.” There’s a pause, a moment of hesitation and then Pony walks swiftly away into their room, grabbing his trash bag of things on the way, the door doesn't slam like Soda expected, instead it gently clicks closed.

“I'll talk to him” Soda says before Darry has a chance to speak. Soda abandons his plate and Darry at the table. Not bothering to knock, he walks into his and Pony’s room, shutting the door gently behind him. He watches as Ponyboy sits on their bed, back turned to Soda, the crinkling of the trash bag is the only indication that the kid is moving at all. Soda is silent for a moment, allowing them both a moment to gather their thoughts. Soda’s eyes scan over their bedroom, it’s changed a lot these past six months, two child sized beds turned into one large bed, cars themed curtains turned to simple black. The only thing that hasn’t changed is Boots. Ponyboy’s childhood stuffed bunny is proudly in the middle of their bed just as it always was, this morning Soda had left it sitting up against his pillow, now it lays face down in the middle of the bed. Soda wonders if Ponyboy had moved it before dinner, if he’d held it while he cried just like Soda has so many times over the last few years.

“You know Darry tried to get them to send you Boots, but they wouldn’t do it. Wouldn’t even tell us where you were so we could send him ourselves.” Soda says, slowly moving closer to their bed. “I know you’ll be home permanently soon but if you wanted to take him with you on Sunday-”

“Didn’t I say I ain’t a baby?” Pony says, there’s anger in his words but Soda can’t help but think that the words don’t just sound angry, they sound tired. “I don’t need a stuffed animal.”

“Well,” Soda sits on the opposite side of the bed, carefully picking boots up, running his fingers over the stuffies old blue and gray fur. “I do sometimes. When I have a nightmare, or when I think too much about mom and dad… I needed Boots a lot before, when I didn’t know if you were okay. I’d hug him and hope that somewhere you could feel me hugging you.”

There’s silence, for a long, long time, long enough that Soda considers leaving, maybe sleeping with Darry or on the couch, anything would be better than the silence, just as Soda begins to stand Ponyboy says, “You should keep it.”

“Okay” Soda whispers “Whatever you want, Pony.”

-------

It doesn’t take long for Soda to fall asleep after the excitement of the day. Ponyboy doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the night and Soda doesn’t push. He helps Darry clean the kitchen, shaking his head when Darry asks what happened. He sets out some clean clothes for Ponyboy to sleep in and slides under the covers. It’s become normal for Sodapop to wake up in the middle of the night, nightmares and anxiety brought on by his foster house make it difficult to get a good night's rest. So, when he wakes up at two in the morning he doesn’t think much of it, sleepily sitting up and stretching, popping the bones of his fingers and his neck with a soft sigh. It isn’t until he stands, deciding on grabbing a glass of water before crawling into bed with Darry to hide in the safety of his brother’s arms that he realizes what woke him up wasn't a nightmare at all, it was Ponyboy getting up.

Anxiety fills Soda’s heart; suddenly very awake Soda makes his way out of his room and down the hall. Was Ponyboy running away? Was his brother so upset at being home that he’d waited until everyone was asleep to take off into the night? What if he was hurt? What if he’d been afraid, or crying and hadn’t wanted Soda to know? Soda longs for the days that Ponyboy would crawl into bed with him after a bad dream, letting Soda take all of his worries away.

Soda breathes a sigh of relief when he rounds the corner to find Ponyboy standing in the living room. He’s still here, Pony is home, he’s safe, he’s on the phone- he’s on the phone? Soda backs up a bit, hiding as much as he can in the hallway, he knows eavesdropping and sneaking around aren’t good, his mama would surely yell at him for it, but he can’t help but to be curious. Who the hell would Ponyboy be calling at this hour? Soda watches as Pony finishes dialing and slowly puts the phone up to his ear. There's silence as the phone rings and rings and then Ponyboy is speaking, and Soda desperately wishes he could hear the other side of the phone call.

“It's me” Ponyboy says, his voice is so soft Soda can hardly hear it. “Nothin’ nothin’ sorry.” A pause followed by, “Yeah I'm-I'm in Tulsa”

Soda takes a deep breath, relieved at least that Ponyboy isn't on the phone with their social worker. “I'm with my brothers. I just-I hate this.”

Ponyboy's words make Soda's heart race. He hates it? Hates them? Soda can't imagine why, what had happened in the few hours they've known each other again. Was Ponyboy angry that Soda got to come home first? Did he hate them because they didn't find him sooner? Or was he angry because he had a good placement and felt like his brothers were ruining his life trying to get him back? But with the bruises… 

“I do trust them. It's not that-”

Soda slides down the hallway wall. Trust… He trusts them? But he seems so angry- it's all so much, so confusing. Soda has never felt so unsure in his entire life, even after his parents died, he knew what to do. Knew he had to fake nice on the West side until he could finally leave, knew he had to follow the rules with the hopes of seeing his friends and older brother at school and any moment he could find to escape. Now with Ponyboy… It's like he doesn't know anything at all, he used to know everything about his baby brother.

“I am trying-” Pony's voice raises and Soda finds himself watching Darry’s bedroom door, worried that the noise will wake their older brother. “I am trying! I am okay- I just hate this. There's no point in bein’ back home like this. Havin’ to be here- they wanted to go visit mom and dad-”

Soda flinches, was that what had upset Ponyboy? Of course they all missed their parents, being back in their home had been so difficult for the first few weeks. Soda had found himself sitting on the porch most days, too afraid to go in without his parents there, but too afraid to leave with the fear of not being able to come home. Soda figured Ponyboy would be overwhelmed, thought maybe he would cry, he hadn't been expecting anger but maybe he should’ve.

Soda remembers being angry that first year. Stuck on the West side, separated from his brothers, living with people who didn’t care about him, only taking care of him to show him off like some charity case, the pity of strangers he wished he never met. In the blink of an eye everything had changed. Where he lived, what he was allowed to eat, to say, to wear, even how he wore his hair. He hadn't fit in anywhere anymore, not with greasers and not with socs, for a while it felt as though he hadn't even fit in with his own friends. The only comfort he had was Darry. But it's been years since then, and over time he'd learned to deal with the grief. He's still angry, of course he is, but life goes on, in order to survive he'd had to set aside his anger. Soda finds himself wondering if Ponyboy had used anger to survive.

Soda finds that he can't listen anymore, that the anxiety and fear are eating him alive. The idea of Pony not wanting to be home- Soda quickly and quietly makes his way into Darry's room, shutting the door gently behind him. Darry hardly even wakes up as Soda slides under the covers, using his big brother’s arm as a pillow.

With no one there to listen Ponyboy's voice breaks as he continues speaking. “They're gonna get sick of me. They're gonna get sick of me and send me away and I don't wanna be here. I don't wanna get attached to bein’ home just to get sent away again.”

A tired gruff voice answers, “Pony come on man. They're your brothers. They ain't gonna send you away.”

“You don't know that. I'm trouble. That's what everyone keeps sayin. You know they won't keep me around if-”

“Knock it off, ain't you supposed to be smart? They aren’t gonna get rid of ya and if they do I'll deal with it okay? When do you get home?”

Ponyboy sighs. “Tuesday, I think.”

“Then I'll see you Tuesday. Just keep your nose clean until then kid. And try. I don't wanna be woken up again.”

“Dal-”

“Go to bed.” The line goes dead no sooner than Dallas has finished talking and it takes everything in Ponyboy to keep from crying. He simply sets the phone down and makes his way back to his and Soda’s room. When he opens the door to find Sodapop gone, boots left fallen over in his place Ponyboy can't help the way tears gather in his eyes, he’s never wished he was in New York so badly before.

[jlilycorbie]

I still have no idea why fandom culture, and especially fanfic, passed me by. I went to my first con when I was 12. I've run green rooms. I should be all over it, but I'm just...not.

I passionately love books and movies and shows, but no matter what, I end up writing my own little things instead. Sometimes there are bits and pieces and inspirations from things I love in my work, but I've never really tried to set up my own stories in other people's worlds.

The exception is when a story makes me mad. When I get spun up about how some worldbuilding doesn't work or how some idea seems wasted, then I'll get into what could have been fanfic, but always spins off far enough to end up being my own thing.

I've got a backburnered cyberpunk WIP. It takes place in a future US that's no longer a world power, outside and inside an arcology. Some things in the world have gotten better, some have gotten worse. People can attend virtual school, which was theoretically designed to erase class differences between students, but it's not like kids haven't found countless ways to draw those lines between themselves anyway. The MC lives outside the arcology, and her dearest goal in life is to become a teacher so she can get a coveted place living comfortably inside the arcology. She doesn't know how crap life can be if you work in maintenance and live in the cramped maintenance levels, and she and her BFF, who's an agoraphobic kid who won't leave her bedroom in the arcology, accidentally uncover a terrorist plot to plant a bomb in the arcology and frame the maintenance worker's union in an attempt to both destroy the union and push through new legislation that would allow the corporate owners of the arcology to essentially turn all of the maintenance workers into indentured servants.

That story started while I was complaining about Ready Player One.

The underpinning for Magic School Dropouts is probably immediately obvious. Around 17 years ago, the MC and her BFF managed to escape the creepy magic school they'd joined. The MC's family had moved without telling her while she was in the boarding school, so she had to figure out how to live her life while fleeing the magic police who would track her down for what she'd done at the school. She and her BFF separated, and now she's gotten a message from her BFF's sister: her BFF was pregnant when they escaped from the school, and she died shortly after she had her daughter, who her older sister raised. Her older sister knew nothing about what happened to them in the school, so she didn't see anything wrong with sending her niece to the school. Except now she's gotten cryptic messages from her niece indicating she needs help. The MC is the only person the sister knows who went to the school and can maybe help, and while trying to figure out what to do, the MC learns there's a whole thriving magical culture that has nothing to do with the isolated school that preys on children born into normal families who don't know better.

And yeah, that came from many, many discussions about Harry Potter. Most of them before Rowling let the mask drop.

The Tom Cruise Mummy remake had me on a path toward some kind of story, but there were problematic elements I never managed to iron out enough to get a good plot together.

I guess when it comes down to it, when I love something, I'm happy to love it and enjoy what I've gotten from the original makers, and when I get mad about something, I go spinning off too far into the ether to write fanfic.

[heavyknitter]

2 - Do you even knit bro

So here I am, with my little test piece and wool my aunt brought me from the store and new knitting needles and a bunch of wool I acquired myself on day 3 of my knitting journey.

So.. we hit September 29th - the day I just went for it.

I figured I had done plenty of practice for just doing something as basic as a scarf, I mean, basically I already made a little animal sized scarf already right so how hard can it be to do this on a larger scale?

Well. Lets start with the fact that while I knew the basic movement of knitting I had not yet learned how to cast on wool to start something new. Because remember, my aunt did that with the test piece and did the first two rows - so over to the auntie we go and we run back into the same issue as before - she can't explain and I can't follow. Hand manipulation became funky business because neither of us realized that when I tried to copy I held the threads wrong and tried to cast on loops with the thread connected to the wool not the other one. It was a bit of a funny back and forth because she looked over my hand movements, saw me pick up the thread and of course it did not work as intended and neither of us cottoned in on what was going wrong here. It might seem silly, but I was very pleased with myself once she retried on her own hand to figure out what I am doing wrong (remember we are both kinaesthetic creatures, she needed to replicate my movements to find out what is wrong but as opposed to me she held the threads - both of them - correctly for this step so she did not realize what went wrong on my end) that it dawned on me that I had thrice looped the threads wrong around my fingers and of course it could not work that way. So I took the thing back from her, wound the threads around my hand again and this time it worked. My first correctly cast on loop. Fuck yeah. The upside of fucking around so much on this basic step and then realizing what went wrong would ensure that this is now second nature ain't no way I am doing this wrong again ever. Good thing too because my aunt was starting to get mildly frustrated because this is easy basic stuff but somehow it is complicated and I get why it frustrated her a bit how clumsy my humble beginnings are but I reminded her gently, that she did this for years, she does not have to think or plan anything for her it is all muscle memory, just like riding a bike. But I have not learned how to ride this particular bike - would she expect me to know how to hold my balance without having it ever done before? Of course not. And any new task that involves your body and movement needs to be hardwired in your brain to make you perform it with the same ease she does it. The older we get, the more we forget how tricky it can be to pick up something new you have never done before and many people get frustrated and stop learning something because they wrongly assume being an adult means you should learn shit in a snap. Nah. Everything we learn kickstarts new neural pathways in our brain, those want to be engaged and nurtured by repetition you can't just go into something new and come out a pro in the same day. 's not how it works. But my aunt is in her late 50s so it's been a while since she got into any new craft. But she understood when I explained and reminded.

So here I am, happily casting on loop after loop and I have no concept on how much to get a good broad scarf so my aunt estimated for me to make like 40 (I am working on another scarf right now and she was absolutely right - 40 is the perfect amount for this particular bulky wool) and I said "I want it huge, really really big you feel me? So she said "make it 45 then". By the time I started counting how many I already had on there I was at 55 but instead of stopping there I figured, ehh extra bulky - and made it 70.

And let me tell you, with absolute no shadow of a doubt, this was both a mistake and overshooting the goal widely and also the best thing ever.

It is soft, it is bulky, it is wide enough that if I get it to the length I wish to achieve I could very likely roll myself up in it. And I mean completely. Like.. drape and wrap it nicely, use some safety pins and bäm. Could make it some sort of eccentric statement piece in the next ballroom. So yeah, Friday the 29th was go-time and I was knitting until like.. what.. 2am happy as a clam. Next morning, Saturday I woke up, grabbed the thing to knit a bit before getting up, count the loops and.. I lost one. No idea were it went, no idea when it went and no idea how to spot were it is. The good thing for me was, that on this very Saturday my mother would drop in to help me with something and if my auntie is an expert in knitting, then my Mother is the master. There was so much crafted stuff in my childhood home and my fondest memories of my mother are her crocheting, knitting, or crafting something. Mostly fancy Easter eggs with fabrics pearls and feathers and stuff. Really fancy shizzle. So of course when she dropped in I was like "Mama! I started to knit! Also I lost a loop and I do not know where it is or how to spot it in this bulky thing help meeeee!" And she gave me a look. You know the one. The one only an exasperated Mom can give you. But eh, she found it. Six or Seven rows below and so she unraveled all those rows, threw everything back on the needle, counted, and then redid the rows with speed I could not comprehend. She also muttered something about this wool being bad, it's too dark too bulky can't see shit with that why would you use that as starting project yadda yadda yadda. (I think she was pleased tho, she tried back then to get both of her children into crafting but my brother was more for gaming and bionicles and I was more art, writing and gaming the spark was not quite there yet)

She gave me a second look when I showed her the wool I had acquired already for future projects because she lowkey thinks I might not stick with it - well, let it be known I am in deep. I might eventually balance it out again with all my other hobbies but for now I just wanna progress and create stuff and I like to have a lil stash on hand. She promised me to show me how to knit with 5 needles to make some legwarmers I am very exited and down the line of talking she told me not to try a blanket because she wanted to do that and was discouraged because its expensive and takes too long. But she also told me that the bulky wool I have going for the scarf she would do away with in 1 hour so I'm like... damn woman if you're so fast and money is no longer an issue you could probably pull this off in record time.

It also gave me a lil kick because this bulky thing? 1 hour??

Now that it a goal to work up to >d

This is the state of the scarf currently by the way, pulled over both of the knitting needles so I can show you just how broad this thing is. The lighter is a normal sized lighter that fits in the palm of your hand. Like I said, 70 loops was both the worst and best decision I made with this. I already had to start a second roll of wool for this. It will take a bit to finish. In fact I already finished something else in the meantime while working on this because just one WIP is not a thing I can do (I have now 5 things I work on truth be told)

But yeahhhh it huge I love this thing I can wear this as fullbody piece eventually I am very pleased. And it is soft. It is so soft. I love it so much.

[elikaina]

ngl, when I first read the itoshi brothers backstory, my initial thought was that this type of conflict could only happen between siblings as they both lashed out and hurt each other deeply and I understand both sides of it as well.

On rin's side, rin was excited to see his brother who he hasnt seen in a few years and missed a lot in both football and companionship. But sae's time in spain changed him and he doesnt recognize him, it feels like he changed their shared dream without consulting him.

He admires sae too much to be the best striker, he believes that that title belongs to sae. So rin felt like his brother threw him away and looked down on him when he lost the one-on-one. Rin started questioning their whole relationship like it was false and thinking that he meant nothing to sae, all those good memories are now burnt like trash. Rin's worldview shattered and couldnt stand anything that reminded him of sae, while at the same time, he yearned for his approval.

Sae, on the other hand, went straight to rin after he got back from spain. He didnt go home to put his stuff away before confronting rin, it was that serious for him.

Before I go in depth about his reaction, you gotta remember that sae went to spain when he was around 12/13 years old (7th grade). He was young, dealing with culture shock, language barrier, homesickness, and the feeling that he was not good enough to continue as a striker. No matter how much passion you have for something, sometimes its just not meant to be so you learn to adjust and go into something that is more suited for your skills.

With all of these negative feelings that's been brewing over the past couple of years, sae went to talk to the only person who he thought would be understanding, empathising, and supportive of him and his new goal.

He tried to adjust their shared dream from being number 1 and 2 striker to him being the best midfielder while rin is the best striker so rin would still be onboard. But instead he got the last bit of hope in his heart was crushed when rin rejected him and told him he's not the brother that he remembers. He went through whatever happened in spain and rins words were the final nail to his coffin. Something inside broke, he has nothing to lose anymore, no one to rely on.

So he went with the one-on-one without holding back. And called rins soccer lukewarm cause rin was basically copying his style while rin original way was completely different. This also made sae feel so infuriated with rin cause rin actually has the skills that he lacks to become the best striker. Sae calls him out on this by telling him that he didnt experience the real world and that he should give up if this is how wishes to play cause he knows that rins not gonna survive cause he didnt.

All of this misfortune happening to them around the ages of 16-17ish and 14-15ish. they are both teenagers, so they have a chance to learn and grow from these interactions and eventually mend their relationship. But what are siblings, especially teen siblings, if not petty.

It's kinda annoying (to me) when ppl disregard the fact that they were both hurt.

Yeah, I admit, that sae was harsh, as a brother, after the u20 vs. blue lock game. As a world-renowned player, his judgment, though biased from his hate towards japanese football, is frankly correct. Ego literally reiterated what what sae told rin to the team afterward.

[shytastemakerthing]

Hi there I go by Voidless! (She/Her or They/Them). I'm in search of a romantic matchup for the TWST boys

● I tend to be forthright with my emotions, yet there's this current of sensitivity to rejection that I sometimes forget is there.

● I like share knowledge and fun anecdotes! It can be rather forceful in conversations when I have something to say though.

● I think I may have some abandonment issues... There's this deep fear of not measuring up.

●A trait I'm not proud of is how often I say sorry. On some level I say it often so I can inspire pity and have people undeservingly go easy on me when I mess up. Yeah too late for apologies... ●Regardless I'm torn between a need to be recognized (taking my place in the sun), vs. and acknowledging a deep unsettling unmet want of love and security.

●That, and my sense of self is warped (it cycles through high-highs and low-lows). I have some unattainable goals I've to hinge my identity on in the past and couldn't seem to let go of, which also leads to a fear of failure.

According to UQuiz and some remarks that have resonated with me over the years:

"Definitely makes people around think deeply and a bit too hard on grand, philosophical concepts but eh, they're better for it."

"Short."

"Loves to share everything with a partner eternally curious, and hungers for knowledge. Seems to enjoy exchanging ideas and personal philosophies with others. Exceptionally buoyant, enthusiastic, and can even inspire in their communications."

"Drawn to the hidden layers of life, people, and situations. Highly observant and perceptive, too. Notices things others miss, especially emotional nuances and subtleties. Ability to understand human motivation and honesty."

"...Knows how to lift other people's spirits. Posseses big dreams."

Hobbies: I'm a Renaissance woman and thoroughly enjoy new experiences. That's not to say I don't have my favorites, like: Writing (poetry, fiction, ect.) and by extension world building. Singing is chief of my hobbies and it gives me the feel that I'm alive, and the world is too. I enjoy going out into the wilderness and exploring!

Things I enjoy: A good laugh, barometers and other steampunk-esque items, friendship bracelets, high up places I can sneak into, seeing new things, people I just click with, having a deep talk with someone, sitting high up on the roof, organizing new and old of my favorite books, fairytales and fantastical romances, scents like pumpkin and pine, dancing wildly at big events/parties, and walking outside past midnight to look at the stars and listen to music.

Things that I don't: Disappointing those who believed in me. My not-so-good working memory. Feeling trapped with no way out. Random loud thumps and noises, PTSD is one hell of a drug. Dandelion weeds (they freak me out)

Some favorite songs of mine:

Empire - Shakira

Come Along - Cosmo Sheldrake

Ballad of Serenity - Firefly

Hello and thank you for your request! I hope that this match-up finds you well in life right now, and if not, I do hope and wish that everything will be okay very soon! I hope you enjoy your match-up!

Tw: None

I match you with........

Lilia Vanrouge

The amount of knowledge that this fae has amassed over the centuries is rather immense and he would love to be able to share it all with you, just as you share your own history with him, he'll turn it into a date night!

I just have the feeling that he would also suffer from a form of PTSD, having fought first hand in the human and fae war as a general for a number of years tends to do things to one's mind

During times where you both are having a harder time, he will take you to his room, and just wrap the both of you up in his blankets, doing his best to soothe you. Is he having a hard time himself right now?

Yes

But he would much rather ensure that you are going to be okay and reassure you that he is there for you no matter what when you are in need of him

You should see the size of his book collection. While he was not able to bring all of it to NRC with him, you are more than welcome d to come with him back home during break and you can see the rest of it, he could talk form hours about their contents

Seeing new places is a thing to expect with Lilia

He has been around quite a lot and he knows just the best places to visit and when

Over summer, he would love to be able to travel with you, showing you all the sights that Twisted Wonderland has to offer

Lilia will absolutely join you on your midnight walks. You don't even have to be talking to each other, just being there with you is enough for him. Enjoying each other's company under the stars. What more could this old fae want?

Overall, Lilia once thought that he was far too old for entertain the idea of finding love, but the moment he was with you, he knew that he would spend the last of his days remaining at your side, for as long as time would allow him

Thank you so much for your request!!

[arcielee]

Ahem..! So.

Late morning. You're standing by the stove and making yourself a morning coffee, although it would be more logical to start cooking dinner... Ahem, so! You didn't sleep well. You barely slept. Because your daughter, as you'll find out in a couple of months, that it's a girl, threw a party hard in your uterus. But your husband, modernAegon, slept next to you the way your daughter should have slept, like a fucking baby.

Well, it's immediately clear, that this is papa's girl... You almost hate them both... Maybe you should have this baby, leave her to your husband and run away... Since these two are so similar, maybe you're an extra in this happy family...

But, your negative thoughts caused by lack of sleep and a surge of hormones were interrupted by warm, soft hands hugging your big tummy. ModernAegon kissed the path from your shoulder to your cheek, while stroking your tummy. And when he reached the goal, he said, still sleepy: "good morning, my soul. - You nodded back. - I love you, Y/n... I love you the most in this world... - His voice was clearly shaking. You asked, what happened. Hiding his face in your neck, modernAegon replied, that he had a disgusting nightmare. - It all started with the fact, that some lost, ancient fruit was found in the depths of old America. And this fruit quickly became extremely popular. It was very tasty and healthy. This fruit, almost raised people from the dead... You ate this fruit because it made it easier for you to tolerate pregnancy. And I, because it was delicious."

Y/n: "mhm... Aand?"

ModernAegon: "This fruit has been eaten all over the world. - He paused. - I cheated on you in this dream... - You even have a spoon, with which you stirred coffee in a mug, fell out of your hands from surprise. - I cheated on you, literally, with every woman I met! And you didn't know anything about it. - He sniffed. - It wasn't my fault, I swear! It was because of this fruit! - You're not sure which of you two has pregnancy hormones, that are naughty. - There was some kind of parasite in this fruit, that somehow affected our nervous system and made libido go crazy, so that this parasite could reproduce. People were fucking, like crazy all over the world. And I was one of them! And you're not! There was some small group of people, who were not susceptible to this parasite. When this thing got into your blood, your blood immediately destroyed this parasite. And I wasn't immune to it! And I cheated on you with thousands of women! And you didn't know anything! You always greeted me at home, as usual, with hugs and kisses, after I was with a woman, I accidentally met on the street... You found out about everything, when you donated blood for a vaccine against this parasite. Scientists pretty quickly identified all this, and you, with a group of other people, who had blood killing this parasite, were called in to create a vaccine.... You just gave a lot of blood to heal others, and you saw me, in the crowd of those, who are infected... And I saw your eyes... Your pregnant belly... I saw your heart break... I... Forgiiiiveeee meeeee! - Your husband, hid his face in your neck again, hugging you tightly. - I looove you!"

You're not even sure, how to react to all this...

Oh, yeah. Quick fun fact. Your first pregnancy was the most terrible emotional swing in your entire life together with modernAegon. Did you think, that the first years of your relationship, when he was still exposed to his addictions and the influence of his family, when he was struggling to become a good boyfriend for you, were difficult and exhausting? Noooooooo.

ModernAegon was horrified by the news of your pregnancy from the very first seconds. You could literally see, how pale he turned. You already regretted, that you decided to tell him about it, you already regretted, that you were glad about it. And when he stammered, that he needed to take a walk, that he needed to think about something, and he, crashing into every corner on his way, went to his street shoes, you finally lost all feelings. Your husband came back late at night. He was a little drunk. You were lying on your side in your shared bed and trying to watch something on YouTube/Twitch/online cinema. You were staring aimlessly at the screen of your phone, completely not following, what was happening. All you could see, were your husband's eyes, huge with horror.

ModernAegon has passed into your shared bedroom. You heard he was back, but it was somewhere deep in the back of your mind. Your head was painfully empty, but at the same time, crowds of disgusting thoughts devoured your mind. ModernAegon sat on the edge of the bed, near your feet, and put his head on your hip. You felt it, but, again, everything was like a blur. ModernAegon asked you to look at him. You're not sure what you heard. ModernAegon took the phone out of your hands and turned off the video, he turned you over on your back and climbed onto the bed next to you. He put his head on your chest, which was a sign, that he was sad, and his hand on your stomach.

ModernAegon said he loves you, loves you to the point of pain. He told, that he often fantasized about your pregnancy, about how you would have pregnant sex, how you would eat all sorts of strange things, like pregnant women in movies, about your family, about what kind of children you would have, how many of them there would be, who they would look like... And then, images pop up in his head of how he becomes the same as his father... And even worse. And he's terrified of it... He has a lot of fears in life, he is, in fact, a coward, and one of his worst nightmares is to become like his parents. And while he was telling you all this, he didn't stop crying into your chest.

The middle of your pregnancy was going well. I mean, your husband was good about it. Sometimes it seemed to you, that he was worried and waiting for this child, more than you. He ran around you like a mother hen. Lol, and he didn't let his own mother get close to you. The only member of his family, who was allowed to be near you without his supervision, was his younger sister. His younger brother was allowed to be in the same room with you, but under the supervision of modernAegon. By the sixth month of pregnancy, he literally developed paranoia, all the stories about, what happened to his father's first wife during her second birth have, not left his mind since the middle of the sixth month of your pregnancy. ModernAegon went with you to all medical appointments, and personally and strictly selected your doctors and the hospital, where you will give birth.

By the beginning of the ninth month, modernAegon had backed down. He suddenly realized, that you are about to give birth, and he will meet his child. And he, again, was horrified. A few months ago, you almost lost this child, because of your tantrums, because of the loss of the cat. It's already scared him. And the prospect, that he will not cope with the responsibility of being a father... In short, he started drinking again. Which started to make you cry again. And, as we have already understood, modernAegon fears your tears more, than the most painful and long death. And this is the ninth month. In his mind, you even have to breathe carefully, at this time.

What if you die during childbirth? What if the baby dies during childbirth? And what if the child is entangled in your belly in the umbilical cord, and the ultrasound does not show this, and the child is already dead? What if both of you don't survive childbirth, and modernAegon is left alone with two corpses? And what if...

The most terrible thoughts were constantly spinning in his head, day and night. He was already going crazy. But suddenly everything went quiet in his head, when his little, newborn girl was in his arms... She's so small... She's so warm... Her little blond fuzz on her little head tickles his neck so pleasantly... Your husband burst into tears, right in front of the doctors and nurses... And he's not ashamed of it. It's his little girl! He became the father of a little princess! It's his little girl! His first little daughter...

ModernAegon tried his best to be a good father. He studied mountains of literature on psychology and pedagogy, on parenting. And, gritting his teeth, occasionally asked his mother for advice, last of all. The first time he called his mother, was when his little princess started coughing. The doctor prescribed some dubious medicine, saying, that it was okay. This thing stank and... In short, twisting his face, modernAegon called Alicent to find out, how she was coping with this fucking cough.

Since the birth of your daughter, you haven't seen modernAegon cry about it. But.

You woke up, and your back is cold. Your husband wasn't in bed. You got up and went to the nursery, and you didn't find your daughter. Okay, you're starting to get nervous. You saw, that the kitchen light was on. You went into the kitchen and found your husband sleeping in an armchair. Your daughter was sleeping on his chest, pouring her drool on his T-shirt. ModernAegon held the girl with one hand, and with the other, hugged her back, not letting her freeze and hugging her at the same time. Both had their mouths slightly open, both had the same facial features, hair color, eyes, both were quietly snoring... She really is daddy's girl. His complete little copy. Even in small, inconspicuous habits, she was like her father. She was like you only in that you are both girls, and nothing else.

You went up to them, to kiss them and take their little late-night snack off the table, but you lingered for a second. The smile slipped from your face, when you saw the red stripes on your husband's cheeks, his swollen eyelids. He was clearly crying again.

The baby woke up first. You tried to cook breakfast as quietly as possible, but apparently her young ears were sharper, than her father's. When she stirred on her father's chest, he instantly opened his eyes. ModernAegon did not immediately notice your presence, focusing his still sleepy mind on the small lump in his hands.

When your little daughter was fed, washed and put to bed, you carefully began to find out, what upset your husband so much.

ModernAegon is absolutely in love with the fact, that he has a daughter. That you gave him a daughter. He absolutely adores her, and the fact, that she is, without a doubt, his daughter, makes him ecstatic. But, if she looks so much like him, won't she repeat his fate? Won't he become like his parents? He tries so hard, but it seems to him, that he is not doing enough... She is so small and precious in his hands, what if he makes a mistake? He wouldn't survive, if he hurt her!

You sat on your husband's lap and pressed his head to your milky breasts, to shut him up. By the way, the relationship of modernAegon with your breast, in which there is milk, is a separate topic for conversation. Oh, that kinky husband of yours. Ahem, so. You kissed the top of his head.

Y/n: "I love you. So much. You're a wonderful father, Aegon. Sometimes, I even envy her a little... After all, she got the most gentle and caring, the funniest and attentive daddy."

ModernAegon: "... I love you... - He looked up at you. He looked very serious. - I need another baby... Give me another baby. We are going to make another baby right now."

God help you...

"We are going to make another baby right now."

Y/N: Sigh. Fine.