#<- i only wrote half of that

[dotbot3812]

plane doodles

[dcxdpdabbles]

Bruce: You know, I was really worried about how Damian was going to react to Danny. I mean, not only is Danny a parallel version of Tim, but he's also my biological son. I thought for sure Damian would be at his throat, but they had been getting along just fine.

Alfred: I concur. I figured I would be cleaning blood stains off the carpet by now, but Master Danny and Master Damian have been spending the entire day together acting like the closest of brothers. It's wonderful

Tim: Fools.

Bruce: What was that Tim?

Tim: I said you're fools. Danny and Damian do not like each other, and they are not accepting of each other. They're just doing a last hurrah before their showdown. Like a final meal, only it's activities they always wanted to do instead of food.

Alfred: What makes you say that?

Tim: Danny told me. He also said, and I quote, "There can only be one. We've decided to settle this the same way we lost our grandparents."

Bruce: What does that mean?

Tim: Look outside.

Danny/Damian in the garden:

Bruce: OH MY GOD. WHAT ARE THEY DOING!?

Tim: There can only be one.

[crowrrupt]

"The hands that cradled your face and tilted it upwards to kiss your forehead are soaked in unfathomable quantities of blood." "But they cradled me, yes?"

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girl found dead in a hidden room.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[tgcg]

TG: over hill and yonder dale the brave sir karkat rides TG: slayin dudes and coppin feels of salacious buxom brides TG: posterior pert at any sign where malignance derides TG: brave sir karkat

CG: WOW.

CG: SOMETIMES I REALLY THINK TO MYSELF THINGS CAN'T GET ANY WORSE. ALL AROUND PARADOX SPACE I HAVE SLOGGED THROUGH SOME OF THE MOST RIFE AND RANCID SHIT YOU COULD EVER BELIEVE. YOU WOULDN'T. IMAGINE!!!! SOME OF THE MOST FECULENT OF SHIT I'VE DEALT WITH. AND YOU KNOW WHAT? THIS TAKES THE PROVERBIAL DEFECATIVE CAKE!

CG: THIS IS BY FAR, WITHOUT ANY SEMBLANCE OF FUCKING DOUBT, THE MOST EGREGIOUS, DELIRIOUS, ETHICALLY FUCKED UP "BIZNASTY" MY PISS-POOR JOKE OF "FORTUNE" HAS EVER HAD THE AUDACITY TO SITUATE ME IN.

CG: AND I HOPE YOU'RE PROUD OF YOURSELF, BECAUSE THAT'S REALLY FUCKING SAYING SOMETHING! GRADE A WORK, STRIDER! THE CROWD GOES ABSOLUTELY MILD!

TG: his dudely bard a witness to the power of his claps TG: what claps you ask the rugged cheeks of his hellacious ass

CG: OH MY GOD, CAN YOU TALK ABOUT SOMETHING OTHER THAN MY ASSCHEEKS FOR A SINGLE SECOND?! YOUR MATERIAL IS AWFUL!

[ironunderstands]

Sunday’s worldview sucks, his outlook and perception of himself and others sucks… and that’s why he’s so interesting

In honor of his drip marketing releasing tonight (or maybe yesterday for you depending on when I get this out), I’d like to talk about why I think Sunday’s beliefs and perspective is very, very flawed and how his own biases rather than the actions of those who oppose him are what led to his downfall.

Sunday is entirely responsible for his own failure, and that’s exactly why he’s incredible.

This contains mentions of leaks and spoilers for the Penacony quest line… you have been warned

To start with, oh my lord do Sunday’s preconceived notions kick him in the ass. 

I think the best example of this is his conversation with Dr. Ratio in which Ratio pretends to betray Aventurine, selling out his plan to Sunday. Now, what’s incredibly interesting about this exchange is that Ratio doesn’t fully lie to Sunday once in this exchange, rather he says half truths and makes vague statements which Sunday himself interprets as being in support of him. 

Take what Ratio said the whole, “A scholar knows their position and wouldn’t forsake it for the sake of petty pride.” In retrospect, we know this line is actually referring to Aventurine- aka Ratio is saying he’s not just going to sell him out to Sunday for the sake of information about the Stellaron (which he would get anyways if the IPC attained Penacony, plus Mr. Incredibly Dedicated Knowledge Spreader probably has other means of gaining it then through The Family). 

However, since Ratio answered the invitation Sunday gave him, Sunday assumes that Ratio is on his side, believes his cause is righteous, and that he won Ratio over with offering him information about the Stellaron, therefore making that previous statement of Ratio’s null, because Sunday interpreted it as, “convince me this is worth my time + prove to me you’re correct,” when it really meant, “there is no way in hell I’m about to sacrifice my friend to you, and there is nothing you could offer me to make me do so you crazed lunatic.”

But why did Sunday not weigh the options? Why did he unquestioningly believe his perception of the situation was the correct one?

Well- partly it’s because Ratio and Aventurine were doing their damndest to make it seem like they hate each other and that their plan was going off the rails.

But the more important part is that even without Ratio saying a word or even accepting the invitation, Sunday already believes he’d be on his side. 

Let me demonstrate this through Sunday's perspective:

I am a righteous person, I am doing the correct things, my worldview is the correct one. Dr. Ratio is also a righteous person who seems to be doing the correct things. Therefore, since we are both on the side of good, and Aventurine is clearly not on that side considering his status as Stoneheart and his negative relationship to Ratio, then Ratio will naturally want to be on my side. After all, the good guys work together, do they not?- and together will vanquish this evil villain.

This perspective is a simple one, but Sunday’s unshaking belief (up until the end of 2.2) that he is 100% in correct and in the right, that any and everyone who he also perceives to be in the right (like Ratio) would believe/side with him without truly needing to be convinced. Sunday doesn’t come out the gate offering the Stellaron information- he only keeps it as a backup just in case. 

However, this is complicated because Sunday is also not an idiot, and he’s extremely paranoid, so he’s going to make sure that the way he views the world is 100% correct on the off chance he’s wrong which could foil his plans- which is why he invited Ratio in the first place. Nevertheless, this isn’t him hunting for new perspectives, but rather him desiring to prove himself right again, which is a bad thing because Sunday is very much not right. 

A perfect world is a perfect pris- *gets shot*

Reference that approximately 2 ½ people will get beside, Sunday’s ideology that he is fully confident in.. sucks. It sucks ass, it’s terrible, and let me explain.

I’m not going to try going over all the little intricacies to how the dreamscape works because I a) don’t know and b) don’t particularly care because they aren’t relevant to the argument I will be making- which is that Sunday’s ideology is inherently flawed and immediately falls apart under scrutiny.

Essentially, he desires to create the perfect fake reality, enveloping the whole galaxy in Ena’s dream and fulfilling their every desire and whim within it, with himself as the sacrifice to allow it to exist. The seven rest days, no illness, no pain, no challenge, you get the idea. 

And, this perfect world paradoxically sucks ass because of its perfectness.

Improving society is great, eliminating hardship is great, increasing quality of life is great.

But declawing reality itself- absolutely not.

I’m going to try to explain this through my favorite strangely specific anecdote- the process of obtaining diamonds in Minecraft.

Stay with me now.

You essentially have two options- go out and mine them yourselves the hard way, which takes hours, gives you less diamonds per the amount of time spent on it, and likely with you exhausting some of your resources like food, torches, and tools which you will need to replenish.

Or.

You can just.. get them from creative mode or commands, and you can get as many as your heart desires.

However, despite the fact that option one is harder, gives you less diamonds and takes significantly more time, I, as well as hopefully you, would pick it every time (at least in a survival world, although honestly idk why you would even need pure diamonds in creative).

And that’s because the first option is rewarding. 

You did not earn the diamonds you easily and magically summoned into your inventory, there is no struggle, no journey, no challenge to it, therefore it feels entirely unremarkable, as compared to the feeling you (hopefully) get from mining diamonds, which makes you happy because you earned it. Yeah, it was harder, but the process itself is fun- the anticipation of not knowing when you’re going to find them, if at all, the danger, the fighting and digging and mauvering you will have to do in the process.

And with this unconventional example, the fatal flaw with Sunday’s ideology is revealed- it’s boring. 

It’s boring as shit.

Yeah, for the first few months or even years it might be enjoyable- having everything you could ever want served on a silver platter. However, humans are a) inherently a bit greedy and b) desire challenge, and this scenario fulfilles neither of those things. Naturally having everything means your desire for more can never be fulfilled, leaving the wanter forever unsatisfied, whereas in the real world, things are truly out of your reach, meaning that even if you never end up getting them, they are still a tangible thing just out of reach… as strange at it sounds, we like being tantalilus-ed more than you think. After all, if what you want is so easy to get, you will never run out of things to want, and eventually that gets draining. 

Continually, if everything is easy, if everything is just right there whenever you want it- existence itself no longer has stakes. 

And that’s the problem, because much like how a story with no stakes is extremely hard to find compelling, a life with no stakes feels boring at best and downright pointless and meaningless at worst.

I’m just saying, there is a reason why the Nihility was such a strong presence and problem in Penacony.

Anyways, like with the diamond problem, a lack of stakes means that nothing you do feels rewarding, because you didn’t truly earn it. 

Which is where the Sunday’s idea of a “perfect” reality falls apart, because the most enjoyable reality for humans to live in is not one literally devoid of any possible flaw.

So why does he believe in it? When it’s so clearly flawed?

Well, it’s because Sunday doesn’t think a better alternative exists.

The world made you this way.. and you chose to continue what it started.

I’m sure I don’t need to repeat the story of the Charmony Dove all over again because trust me, we’ve all heard it before. Nonetheless, it reveals something important both about Sunday’s personality and his ideology- he’s fundamentally a defeatist.

He doesn’t believe that there is any alternative for the dove, that it could ever be able to fly again with its deformed nature, so instead of being “cruel” and letting it “inevitably fall to its death,” he’d rather keep it in a cage all its life where it has no freedom, but at least it would he alive and “happy”.

And this is where his defeatism reveals itself- Sunday doesn’t believe reality itself can get better because improving it when there are so many factors and things out of your control is hard at best and impossible at worst. Therefore, he resorts to creating an escapist, false version of it- a perfect golden cage, because constructing that is far, far easier than trying to help the dove fly again. 

The universe has endless possibilities, if Robin and Sunday had tried hard enough, they probably could have found a solution. Sure, they were both children, so the capabilities necessary to even attempt that were likely far out of their reach. However, it was still possible, but Sunday doesn’t believe in possibilities- he believes he’s right above all else, which is where that stubbornness and arrogance comes into play again.

Sunday doesn’t think better solutions than his exists, and he believes everyone would could possibly stand in his noble way are either villains, or horribly misguided; so it’s his job to show them the light.

This is why he lets the Express Crew + Firefly try to change his mind- Sunday wasn’t actually interesting in shifting his perspective, or really what they wanted to say. Rather, he just wanted to let them say there peace, because well, Sunday’s a good, righteous person (at least from his perspective), and good, righteous people listen to others. Good, righteous people will let these poor, ignorant souls offer their foolish words before exposing them to the harsh truth- or at least that’s how Sunday sees it. 

Moreover, this also explains his arrogance. If he believes his worldview is the sole correct one, then why listen to anyone else? He’s this world's savior, or at least he’s been raised to believe that- so why not relish in it? He enjoys punishing Aventurine, enjoys the bastard who stood in the way of Sunday’s plans, shrinks away in “defeat” and get what he “deserves.” Despite how miserable it sounds, Sunday also takes pride in having to be a martyr to bring about his beautiful dream. The belief that he is a selfless, good person is a selfish desire of his, even if a genuine one, and it’s what leads to his downfall.

Sunday could have actually listened. He could have reevaluated his loss to Aventurine and realized it was not through the others clever deception, but through his own biases. He could have actually taken the Express’s and Firefly’s advice. He could have looked for other avenues to help the people he truly does care about. 

Despite Gopher Wood’s manipulation- Sunday’s decision to go forward with the pain is entirely his own, because he truly believes- even with all the evidence for the contrary- that he is correct.

And that’s why he fails. Not because of the Express. Not because of Ratio. Not because of Aventurine. Not because of Gopher, or even the rest of The Family.

No, Sunday fails because he is flawed, and he is wrong, and he is the arrogant, selfish and biased one, and his worldview is wrong.

So what now?

This might have seemed like I think Sunday is pure evil and irredeemable, but I think it’s quite the opposite.

He has very good intentions, and he does genuinely care about it the well being of other people around him. He gives Aventurine a chance to prove his innocence, even if he never intended on changing, he does listen to what the Express + Firefly have to say. He pauses when Robin shows up, as she’s the one person (until the very end) he’s actually willing to accept the perspective of. The whole reason he ended up here in the first place is because Gopher Wood twisted Sunday’s good intentions into a fatal arrogance and utmost belief in a flawed worldview. 

However, what really sells me on Sunday’s goodness is when eyes widen at that final moment, the light draining from him as he realizes he is wrong. 

And once Sunday realizes he is wrong, those flaws that bind him can finally be examined and improved upon, as they all stem from that worldview he no longer believes in. 

His whole life, Sunday has been enacting out someone else’s plan for him, even if he’s come to internalize it over time, at the end of the day- it was never his, and without it, he’s empty.

Which is exactly why the only place he can go now is the Express, and the only thing left for him is redemption and growth.

Dan Heng is right- Sunday has a noble soul, and now that he has stopped believing in himself, he’s no longer shackled by the past either. Improvement or utter demise (in a likely nihility-flavored manner) are his only options remaining.

I understand a lot of people want to see him become a Stellaron Hunter, but imo, that just does nothing for him. He’d still be following someone else’s path/script, and Mr. I Will Sacrifice My Whole Existence To Become The Sun To Illuminate These Wandering Souls probably wouldn’t be so on board with the whole.. terrorism part of being a SH. Like yeah, they are our friends (kinda), but they absolutely kill innocent people and cause millions of dollars in property damage to people who don’t deserve it. 

Also, being on the Express Just Makes Sense. This is a game about choices, a game about accepting the mistakes of your past, but not letting them define you in order to move on and forge a better future for yourself and others- with the Astral Express + Trailblaze as a concept being the literal embodiment of it. There’s a reason when you switch to the Trailblazer’s POV in stories, it includes Kafka’s most important words to us- “When you have the chance to make a choice, make one you won’t regret.”

Therefore, I hope the choices Sunday will make in 2.7 are ones he’s proud of, and I can’t wait to see how exactly they get him on board with the crew, because there still is a LOT of development he needs to do before then. 

Anyways, thank you so much for reading, and if you have any thoughts I’d love to hear them. This was a stream of consciousness mess, but I hope it was still valuable nonetheless! Also if you are reading this on the day it was written, I hope we don’t get disappointed by his drip marketing!

[raviostinkzz]

-To be happy [ficlet - words: 506]

Characters: - RENGA - lee!Reki ler!Langa [Fandom: Sk8 The Infinity] warnings: just wholesome tickles, stupid head over heel gays

Summary: just Reki getting his shit wrecked and Langa losing his mind — my queers i love them

Notes: AGHHFJFJ THE OVA im thinking about them so much i need season two now i cant. i hope whoever reads enjoys, you better cos i’ve now officially written bl/j

-REBLOGS APPRECIATED!-

——————

“Lahahanga—!!”

“Your laugh is adorable, has anybody ever told you that?” He said softly and as casual as ever, admiring the tint of red that dusted Reki’s face as he scrunched his eyes shut.

“Ohoh my gahahad you’re seheriously kihILLING! me Lahangaaa!” The redhead whined, his voice breaking with squeaks through his giggles.

“It’s fun though, right?” another whine followed by grudgey giggles, “Riiighhttt?” Langa grinned, emphasising by digging into Reki’s stomach and wiggling into the wobbly muscle.

“AH!ahAHAaA LAHANGA!! IHIT’S FUHUN OKAY IT’S FUN STAHAP ahahehehah!”

The blue-haired boy laughed back, “You’re having fun?” he asked, a smile wide and beaming across his cheeks, the feeling he got in his chest seeing Reki laugh and smile in this way— nothing could explain how happy he was right now.

“YeHEhES! I AHaHAM!!” Reki swatted weakly at the other’s hands, blithe and infectious laughter spilling out of him constantly.

In love with the moment, Langa wanted more, more boisterous and excited and giddy laughter from his favourite boy in the world. Langa leaned further over Reki and giggled as he squirmed and snorted.

He slipped his hand under the skater’s shirt as he announced laughter-filtered half-assed protests and danced along his belly, fluttering his fingers across the soft and ticklish skin.

Reki screeched and folded instantly, wrapping his arms around Langa’s and thrashing every-which-way, blurting out words and fumbling as shrieks and cackles and snorts pulled him helplessly into incoherence.

“…and you’re happy when I tickle you?” He smiled softly. Reki was so obvious. He didn’t even need to ask this question, yet he still did. Oh, this idiot.

The boy scrambled, “-YEHEHAS—WAHAIT I MEHEAN-!!” an ear-splitting squeal, “EHEH-HAHAHA LAHANGAAA!!”

Oh my god. Langa’s heart skipped so many beats he felt like he was falling. Reki’s laugh. His face. How was he so…

The way his hair was somehow even more messed up than usual, covering the scrunched up bridge of his nose and laying around his face, brushing his cheeks as he moved. How he howled out every ounce of laughter still ringing in his heart, and how he held on to Langa for dear life despite him being the sole reason for this. Langa was overcome with love for this stupid skater boy, he couldn’t handle it. God, anything more could kill him.

He flushed a rose pink from his hands to his ears and fought everything not to crumble right there. This feeling. He could never describe it, he just never wanted it to end.

The snowboarder clutched a hand to his chest briefly and stared at the boy below him, bewildered and entranced. He slowed his tickles to a stop and rested his palm on Reki’s stomach, tracing gently.

“Reki… I…” He trailed, searching his mind for every word he could say, nothing leaving his mouth.

He lifted his head momentarily to answer him, still overcome with leftover giggles, “Ahahahah— y-yeheah?” He gazed at the blushing boy above, not realising how hard he was smiling.

He was so lucky to have him.

——————

[del-stars]

divorced wolfstar hits sooooo good every single time. they are destined to be accidentally divorced. just two grown men who are the stupidest people ever getting a divorce for shits and gigs, yearning for 3-5 years, and then getting right back together. i gobble it up on the daily. normalise divorcing your soulmate for a brief period of time!

[hoggobblin]

Defective Berry

This happened sometimes. There was always a risk that the transformation would not take as intended, although the percentage of that was fairly low. You were warned of the risks, signed countless waivers giving your consent to a permanent transformation no matter the results, and you still took the chance. You wanted to be a blueberry so badly. You were just unlucky.

Most people who became blueberries swelled four to five times their previous size within minutes. Some took longer - days of gradual inflation until they were bulbous and immobile. But not you.

You swallow the thick blue pill and the sweet tang of juice instantly floods your mouth. You take that as a good sign, swallowing mouthfuls of syrupy liquid as a blue stain creeps across your skin. You can't help but moan when your stomach gurgles and bloats. You begin to feel uncomfortably full as your belly stretches, too big to be contained. The swell reaches your sides and back, you start to round out and your chest puffs out. Your limbs begin to thicken and your arms grow heavy under the weight. Your cheeks bubble up and your moans become muffled by your lips thickening into a perpetual pucker and your tongue swelling in your mouth. With a pop, your belt bursts off of you and your pants button flies off. Your shirt rides up until they catch on your moobs. Your belly is out and growing, your limbs start to sink into it, absorbed by your growing mass. You spread your legs to make room for your crotch pushing down, it rubs the insides of your thighs as they begin to merge. Your arms are lifted by your rising sides, you clench and flap your hands to the addicting pressure of the juice inside of you. You shut your eyes and listen to it swirling in your head, your ears, an ocean trapped inside a balloon threatening to burst. This is everything you wanted.

But then it stopped.

You open your eyes and struggle to look down at yourself. You don't feel like a berry, but it's impossible to see around your blue belly. You flex your hands to test your mobility and to your growing dismay realize that you still have arms up to the elbow. You bend them to try to reach around your belly, trying to push down it and see yourself.

"Oh that's too bad," the assistant in the room with you clicked her tongue pitingly. She walks around you to fetch a full length mirror and sighed as she propped it against the wall in front of you. "It's not your fault, hun. Some people just don't take to being berrified."

You look in the mirror and you chin begins trembling. You look like you decided to wear a giant blue yoga ball as a costume with just your arms and legs sticking out at the elbow and knees. Your neck is thick but not yet sunken into those divots that make you go wild over berries. Your crotch is stil a little less than two feet off the ground, sadly never to surpass your feet and hold you up on a teetering, wobbling point.

Trying to hold back disappointed tears, you look pleadingly at the assistant. "Gib me abobher owne."

She shook her head. "Sorry, hun. Side effects this early increases the risk of exploding. You're lucky you didn't get too big. I'm gonna run you through some mobility tests to see if you qualify for a handler, okay?"

Helplessly, you agree and swallow back tears as she has you stretch, reach, and waddle around the room. The exercise is humiliating as you realize just how unwieldy your body is, now stuck between half-berry and half-human. You can't reach around yourself, you have to turn sideways and risk tipping yourself over to pick up the items she asks you to. Your head can only turn so far before you're forced to shift from one unbending leg to another and make a full body turn. It takes you a full minute to wobble from one side of the room to the other, your steps cumbersome and roiling the juice inside you, throwing off your balance. You almost fall over multiple times but the assistant is satisfied enough that she releases you without a handler. She gives you a condescending pat on the stomach and a commercial smile as she ushers you out of the door, telling you again how lucky you are.

You don't feel lucky. You stand in front of the door as people passing openly stare at you, a blue half-grown blimp who wasn't good enough to become a blueberry. Shame heavier than the juice in your gut floods you, and you start the long walk home, one unsteady waddle at a time.

[regular-gnome]

If you bit a gnome what would it taste like? Salty?

If you cooked a gnome. What could you make? But- this is me assuming they're made up of red meat, or meat at all,

Could I chop them into a salad? Are they more gelatinous inside? So much we don't know,

But once again, this is me assuming they're prey animals, they seem to be scavengers? Do they just eat whatever they come across? I assume flavor would depend on the diet of the individual then? What type of predators would hunt for a gnome?

From what I've seen they don't travel alone much, is it a river otter situation where they ward off hunters by numbers and not strength? Because that would effect their diet, based on how observant of danger they are, what risks they take for food.

I didn't know Laois has tumblr

[itsrainingbubbles]

My aunt got engaged like a month ago and told absolutely no one and it's so funny seeing everyone finding out

I've got front row seats to their reactions because somehow everyone keeps finding out at my dining table either through seeing the ring on my aunt's hand when she visits or from hearing it from someone else while they talk

Anyways lawlu where I steal my favorite reactions and give them to the strawhats

Usopp, after seeing law and Luffy hold hands: oooo~ when's the wedding~?

Luffy: next year, we have a lot of planning to do

Usopp: what

Luffy: yeah we kno-

Usopp; Nonono hold on- *grabbing Luffy hands and looking for the ring* when did this *motioning to both of them* happen!??

Luffy: *oh, we got engaged last-

Usopp: FUCK the engagement, since when are you together!??

Law and Luffy, who have been together for 3 years:....what did you think we were doing...?

Zoro: so I heard you got a rock on your finger?

Luffy; Yeah! Isn't it just so pretty? *Holds his hand out*

Zoro: I don't know if I'd describe a hand as pretty?

Nami: he means the ring you idiot!

Luffy: he proposed to me in a restaurant

Sanji: How romantic! A public display of affection, not afraid to show you off!

Luffy: I think he just did it there so we could get free food, but yeah that's a nice way to look at it

Nami: *stares at Luffy*

Luffy: *stares back*

Nami: *still staring*

Luffy: .... yes, you can be the maid of honor

Nami: good answer

(I think this one is particularly funny because this was mid conversation, they just stopped talking and stared and apparently had a telepathic conversation)

[who-can-touch-my-boob]

<- Sanemi simp posts masterlist

Imagine Sanemi somehow accidentally ends up at a kindergarten. He doesn’t know how, but now he’s completely surrounded by children between the age of two to five-year-olds.

How he ended up there isn’t important.

What’s important is how he just immediately softened in their presence (despite being known to be a guy with a short temper, barks at everyone and looks scary). Because once those big-eyed, curious and innocent faces looked up at him, he just melts.

He swore he hated it, that the children were annoying and asked too many question. Yet, he always took some time off his day to visit them. With the blessing of the teachers, he took a small group of the oldest children with him to hunt for some beetles.

Sanemi would never for the life of him ever admit it out loud, but being surrounded by the kids just filled him with contentment he hadn’t felt in a long time. Especially when one of the shy ones who’d been hesitant at first to approach him, carefully wrap their tiny hand around his finger.

He kept visiting the kindergarten (and donated all his fortune to the school to keep it maintained and bought whatever needed). No one in the Demon Slayer corps knew about this life of his, he kept it well hidden just like he wanted to and preferred. It was his own happy place, where he could be himself and forget about the grief and anger inside him.

The children reminded him painfully a lot of this younger siblings and instead of being Demon Slayer, “Hashira” or “Shinazugawa”, he gets to be “big brother Sanemi” again. (You have no idea how fucking proud he was when he got the nickname, he’d been smiling to himself the rest of the day).

Once the war was over and the demons all gone along with his last family, Sanemi decided to dedicate his remaining years to the kindergarten. He didn’t care about being paid or anything — because he knew he didn’t have much time left and he told them that he wanted to give everything to expand it, turning it into a school and make room for more children and to employ good teachers.

To him being able to be with the children, helping them and seeing how much they love him. Really, really love him. He’s the one who taught them some cool fighting moves (for self-defense only of course), making ohagi with them and creating the enormous beetle-farm in the schoolyard.

Unbeknownst to Sanemi, but after his passing, the school built a memorial for him. Before Sanemi died he didn’t think anyone would hold a funeral to him or mourn his death, but if only he could see all those teary eyed and ugly sobbing faces of the children, preteens and teenagers who adored him…and the teachers, he’d realise how wrong he’d been.

The small kindergarten Sanemi had first stumbled into for reasons unknown had been small with only a few children. However all his donations and charity turned it into a wonderful place for children to attend and learn.

Because even if Sanemi grew up poor and could barely read, he was a firm believer in education for everyone no matter where they come from. So on top of not only helping the school expand and paying for all resources, he made sure that no child had to pay a dime.

Years after years pass, but the memorial built in honour of Sanemi Shinazugawa still stands proudly in the school yard. Younger generations that never met him, would be told about how they’re able to go to school thanks to him.

And as for Sanemi…

Let’s just say he had been welcomed with open arms in the afterlife by his family.

[luxurystark-jackson]

the tfw dynamics with jack are so interesting to me because like. the most destiel “proof” (so to say) we get is from the concept that jack has of dean being his dad. and this stems from cas being his dad, and whatever their relationship is just being so horribly obvious that jack assumes they’re together and treats dean like a father figure.

and yet!! the kicker!! is that sam and cas are jack’s parents!! dean wants nothing to do with raising that kid but still ends up roped into it somehow.

[hedwig221b]

Starting to think that I have a "first work of the year flops" curse. Last year it was Predators. This year, Twilight. Both big, serious projects, and then the numbers do nothing but crawl compared to my other smaller fics

[dreamsy990]

hi i wanted to draw my own au so have a snippet of scene i rewrote like 12 times and will likely rewrite again

[bayeis]

I've joked about it in the tags a lot but I've decided to sit down and actually compile a list on why I'm only half joking when I say my job is conditioning me to be the next Jonathan Sims

The Buried: A lot of my job involves putting people in small confined spaces, often with no windows and and a single, locked door. We frequently have people with claustrophobia that realize agreeing to be locked in a small space means being locked in a small space. 9.9/10 times they are peer pressured into doing it anyway, and have a miserable time

The Corruption:

The Building is rotting. There is no nice way to put this. The walls are slick with mold and soft to the touch, the ceiling drips despite us being on the ground floor of a two story building, the carpets squish with unknown water, and yet people's eyes just glaze past it. Our landlord for the building is a thick accent russian man who, for the past 4 years I've worked here, has changed his name on the emails several times, despite it undoubtedly being the same man, who I have met in the flesh twice before. The first time was to come into the building, shake my hand, and leave. The second time was to ask me to bring him upstairs (not apart of our business but we still have the key for some reason), which I did, and then have not seen him since. Speaking of upstairs, the handful of times I've been there it's just. Bizarre. An entirely furnished office space, completely abandoned. There's everything from paintings on the walls to files still in the cabinets and scattered across desks. I could not tell you what the office space used to be, or whatever the employees that worked there used to do, but I do know it was officially, genuinely abandoned because it was deemed unsafe to be in, from the sheer amount mold and rot. How it is somehow safe for us to work directly below with leaking ceilings I have no idea. I've occasionally had to dart up there with our key to snag a pair of scissors off one of the desks or some other office supply we can't locate in our own half, though I always disinfect them the second I bring them downstairs, and always wear a mask when I'm up there. There's also the bugs. I am so genuinely serious when I say one day I swept the lobby of our building and discovered the shelled corpses of around 300 dead superworms. Like the kind you would feed a pet lizard. I have no idea why they were there, how they got there, or anything. I just swept them up and disposed of them as my coworker watched in horror. Weird worm sightings aside, the building is frequently swarmed both in and outside with bugs, despite weekly exterminator visits. The stairwell to the second floor (located outside) spends about half the year covered in what has to be hundreds if not thousands of moth caterpillars and cocoons. Walking in that back porch area is near impossible as you cannot look anywhere without seeing the walls, floors, stairs, doors all bumpy and withering with the sheer amount of caterpillars (of the not so friendly verity as well. They feel like shattered glass to the touch and will frequently leave a rash). My old manager once found one in her ear. There. Are. Bugs. Everywhere.

The Dark:

Fairly self explanatory. The building gets zero light. The lobby has full glass doors, and walls of windows facing multiple directions but no matter how many blinds you open or what time of day it is you'll find your eyes slightly straining in the just slightly too dim setting. It's never bright enough. When we can get our lights to work (frequently blow out, and when they are attempted to be replaced we find that nearly every light fixture required a different kind of special bulb, meaning that to fix it requires hunting down that kind of random bulb, which will be different from all the others. An effort frequently left undone, dotting the building with random spots of shadows) they don't really help, not because they aren't bright enough, but because the building was designed with weird corners, so all the light the fixtures could be potentially giving, is almost immediately blocked out with odd shaped walls and randomized corners. Some rooms just don't have windows to even attempt to sap out some of the sunlight. The room the employees are made to sit in (about an 8ft by 8ft room) for the majority has no overhead lights, no windows, and like the rest of the building, the walls are painted solid black to sap any remaining light out. The only way you can see in there is from the glow of the monitors and two dim lamps shoved in opposite corners. We get complaints from customers that it's too dark and they can't see well, and we've tried everything to fix it, a desperate combination of lamps LEDs, and fairy lights, but no matter how hard we try, how many blinds we throw open, it's never bright enough.

The Eye:

Remember that employee room I mentioned with the monitors? Workers are instructed to sit in the room (control room) and watch their designated cameras. This is not a security job. Off the top of my head, our (relatively small building floor) has about 30 cameras. There is no where in the building you can be that doesn't have a camera. Even the control room has a camera so we can watch the employees watching people. Some of the cameras are on (all the cameras are always on, with the only way to shut them off being to physically rip them from the walls) but we have yet to find out how to access their feed. The cameras like to frequently switch, in that I mean their security codes, IPs, and registration numbers will jump and switch with each other to no rhyme or reason. When that happens I have to grab the notebook dedicated to writing down whatever this weeks IP numbers are and attempt to metaphorically shove the cameras back into place. We are not a security job, but we are, if you didn't know or guess, an escape room. The entire job, as I previously mentioned, is to sit and watch people freak out through the cameras. Everywhere a guest turns if they look up, there is a camera. Every word they say is recorded and logged. Every action they take is carefully judged. All while a worker sits in a completely dark room, all day, watching their designated cameras intently. I think, for the sheer inherentness of what this business does and advertises, we are the most closely working with the eye. I am one of the managers now, and there are even cameras pointed and trained at where I sit, even thought there shouldn't be anyone to watch them.

The Lonely:

This one applies less to our customers and more to the poor employees. This job is soul crushing. You can go an entire shift, sitting alone in a small dark room, watching people have fun, as you silently observe. I have thankfully graduated out of the control room into front desk, and yet I can go entire days not seeing a soul, watching people chattering as they enter and exit our neighboring buildings through windows that never seem to catch the sun. The "employee area" where we are supposed to be able to hang out in between games isn't really built for socializing. It has been overcrowded and shoved with chairs, so many fucking chairs, that it becomes near intimidating to try and navigate. The most use the room sees is when an employee shoves some of them together and takes a nap, because there is nothing to do. It's not like the employees don't like each other either, we all get along wonderfully for the most part, as well as coworkers relatively around the same age can (helps that we're all queer too), but once you're halfway through a shift, and absolutely nothing of interest has happened you start to drift. A typical lull between games (which can stretch for days in the off season) will usually result in me sitting alone at front desk, answering an occasional ghost call that hangs up immediately when I answer it, an employee sitting in the back area, surrounded by empty chairs facing the graveyard where we write old employees names, and another employee choosing to nest down in the control room, in the dark surrounded by monitors reflecting myself and the other worker being alone, angles scattered across the dozens of cameras. Even when we are busy, there's almost no time to socialize. I still sit alone at a front desk made for two, mindlessly checking people in with no altercation to the script, and the game hosts focus on their game, crammed into the control room with several other game hosts, all willingly silent as they watch whatever designated family they have through their cameras.

The Spiral:

Again, we are an escape room. The whole appeal is to present ourselves as confusing as possible. From room layouts, to our hallways, to the way the building wraps and twists, dumping people out at one door, opposite of where they just entered from, it is designed to drive people crazy. Honestly we don't help either. For our own entertainment, game hosts are particularly obtuse and confusing, partially because we don't want you to get out too early and partially because we have been watching the exact same thing over and over and over and it's starting to drive us a little crazy. People always do the exact same thing in the rooms, there's very little variation from the jokes made the to ideas brought forward. So if the game host wants to keep a little sanity, it's up to them to reek havoc on their game in hopes of startling out a new response, which, if one does occur, gets snapped up and thrown around the control room to the other employees for a slice of entertainment like a sliver of meat thrown to a starving pack of dogs.

The Stranger:

The doll room. Not a traditional "the stranger" kind of presentation, but gives that same prickling unnerving feeling.

In the exact center of the building layout there is a tiny room that is decked in as many old porcelain dolls as possible, all strung up from their necks and twisting around gently in non existent wind. Walking past the only physical door into the enclosed room, you'll usually hear the door rattling in it's frame, or one of the dolls knocking against the door. The room has no vents, no fans, no overhead lights. It's only light source is two red light bulbs, and the room was custom built by our owners. And like, I get it. It's an escape room. There's a creepy room. 1 + 1 equals 2. I cannot even being to describe the feeling this room gives or brings. Almost every time there is a group in there, one person in the group will become more unnerved then the rest, because one of the dozen of dolls looks uncomfortably similar to a doll they or a family member had as a child. The doll will sway on it's string noose as the cameras pick up the trickle of "doesn't that one look just like grandmas doll?" "this one kinda looks like my Betsy doesn't it?" with a chorus of agreements and half given glances, as the rest of the group gets absorbed with the next puzzle, and the single member who brought it up stares, and eventually leaves the room, typically not reentering the rest of the game. It is the strangest thing to watch (no pun intended). Occasionally, the similarity is met with delight, but more often then not it just seems to unnerve. The doll room also shares a wall with the control room, which means nothing, but is occasionally fun to kick.

The Web:

There's the obvious ones, our rooms are meant to trap people, the game hosts jobs besides watching the cameras is to manipulate the line of thinking the customers have, ect, ect. The most unnatural thing to note here isn't the standard workings of an escape room however, but the sheer vast amount of spiders in this goddamn building. I have never seen so many spiders in my life. We can't shake them. From how disgustingly rotted our building is at this point I think the spiderwebs are one of the only things keeping our building together. Again, we have an exterminator come by every single week both in and out of the building. The spiders refuse to let up, every day is a constant battle of knocking down their webs only to turn around and see they've put several more up. We've all but given up on trying to get them out of the employee only areas and now focus our war to the battle grounds of where customers can see to only mild success. This isn't even a regional or habitat thing, no other building I have lived or stayed in in this town has ever even come close to touching the spider infestation happening here.

In terms of other entities such as the Hunt, Slaughter, and Desolation, I can think of a handful of things that might align my job and them, but nothing solid enough that's worth mentioning. There has not yet been anything that reminds me of the End, Vast, or Extinction.

Other things to note,

Quitting is weird? People do, don't worry it's not a genuine hostage situation, but once they leave they are very rarely every sighted by coworkers again. I don't just mean not visiting the building, I mean like going completely off the grid and moving states if not in some cases countries. The entire time this business has been open and operable I've been the longest standing employee, at a record 4 years of the 7 it's been open. I could not name a single employee that has ever truly quit and has been easy to contact again by anyone. If you are able to, it's usually polite conversation with any mention of how you know each other (meeting at the job) being laughed and shut down quickly. No one whose left this place wants to talk about it and I get it, believe me. When we get an influx of summer employees to help with the rush the heat brings, I'm no longer allowed to help train because I would try warn the employees to pace themselves so they didn't experience Game Host Death too early (what we call when a game hosts snaps, having watched the same thing over and over and eventually loosing their mind over it, resulting in crying when told they have to run a game, weird twitching/manic-esque break downs, or in some memorable cases, game hosts just walking out in the middle of hosting a game). This is incredibly ironic considering the majority of employees have admitted the only reason they stick around is because they like working with me but I'm not here to toot my horn. There's also a large collection of employees who are neither employeed nor not, who have moved an hour or so away and have gotten a different, closer, better paying, and enjoyable job, and yet inexplicable will show up once in a blue moon asking for a shift at the escape room for no other reason then they felt compelled to. Typically anyone whose worked here for more then a season falls in this category. Currently we have four official employees for the off season (including myself) and yet if I count this stragglers who all genuinely hate this job (also including myself) our employee numbers easily go over 20. I cannot even imagine what the owners taxes look like for that (all paychecks and stubs are handled by a women who I have only ever emailed and never met). The owners themselves actually don't even live in the same state as us, and we are not apart of a chain. This is the only escape room they own. They're main business? Sheep farming. Which actually, that might be the slaughter right there. Despite working for them for so long, the amount of times I have met them can be counted on one hand. They are completely uninvolved, this business is no mans land. I've thought about quitting multiple times, even briefly lived in another city states away, and yet still found myself back, inexplicably every time I think about leaving again a nice little bonus or raise hits my paycheck, a system I can't really complain about. As for the other managers, I've outlasted several. The only way I have ever seen anyone on the management team leave is to have the biggest mental breakdown known to man and disappear. That's literally it. I've watched it happen so many times. The only employee that came close to being here as long as me was my original manager, who, a couple of months before she left, started loosing her mind, twitchy, paranoid, at her wits end. She isolated and locked herself in one of the rooms for about a month, only emerging at the end of the shift. I tried to approach her once about it and she shaved her head as a panic response. This fucking job, it was choking her from the inside out. Eventually she couldn't handle it and left, effective almost immediately. In the span of a month I watched several new managers cycle in and out, from the women who would sit behind me and silently cry, to a previous employee who realized the jail cell of a role she was being forced into an dipped before the owners could lock the door on her. The current manager is the ex fiancee of the women who locked herself in a room for a month. The horrors are a cycle fr