#[ didn't realize it'd be this long :/// ]

[loupy-mongoose]

The world as it should be...

Good riddance, gall bladder! :)

[iiboronii]

Me upon realizing that I can just have an AU instead of writing an entire fanfiction about an idea I had in my head once:

[skiddo-xy]

Now I don't really pay attention to the tcg/tcg tournaments but if there's an update about pokemon z-a near the end of the tournament just so you all know I called it

[lunaetis]

@metrictita asked :

"oh, miss stellaron . . . i didn't think to see you again so soon. must be just my luck, no?~" the blonde said as he sat down next to the grey-haired woman, irises peering through his sunglasses before he gave a knowing look to the bartender. "i thought you would have left penacony by now. well, perhaps the same thing should be said about me." after all, the IPC wouldn't take well to him losing his cornerstone, though, fortune should always shine down on him. maybe that's why he ran into eden here. "tell me . . . " gloved hand remained under his chin, leaving his head to rest as he watches the other. "how is it to be free of anything in this world? to just blaze through the universe? i bet it must be . . . tiring." (from aventurine, for eden :>)

inbox call. || always accepting

─「エデン」─  it felt like a long, long dream. it was a statement that was more accurate in this situation more than ever. the TRAILBLAZER found herself drifting in and out between reality and dream that was so real one could barely distinguish it. a scary thought, she felt. for one to no longer being able to tell whether they were awake or asleep. what she felt was REAL turned out to be false, the lost battle now being turned upside down and people freed from their GOLDEN CAGE, forcefully yanked back to reality so many had fought for. the reality that was much crueler yet true.

                surprise colored her expression at the familiar voice echoing within the quiet atmosphere. gold met sigonian hues behind the tinted lens. funny how fate and feelings changed in the span of the time she had known this man. distrust. suspicion. then those emotions turning into admiration, and respect. perhaps even CARE ? the walls around her heart was still there especially after everything that happened in penacony. yet, it was no secrets that without his plan, the ASTRAL EXPRESS wouldn't have been able to find the truth of it all. so they owed him for that. she owed him for that.

                well, that, and eden didn't want to outright admitted that she had grown worried of his safety and had developed a sort of attachment to their FRIENDSHIP ( is their relationship able to be referred to as that ? maybe. maybe not. who knows at this point ? )

                " it's good to see you safe and sound, at least. a risky bet you made there. bold move. " for once, she allowed honesty to drip from her lips, with a hint of admiration to how far he was willing to go to have his plan realized.

                his following words did catch her attention, however.

                gloved digits instinctively twitched and she almost snap back when the word FREE was uttered. free ? he thought she was free ? free of anything ? WHAT WOULD HE KNOW !? it was the opposite of free ! the collar of FATE and chains of destiny shackling her entire frame down nearly RATTLED with her movement if it weren't for the last syllable said so casually. it was as if he expected her to do so, to counter, only for him to say something entirely different.

                must be ... tiring.

                " ... what ... did you ... " just say ? the last two words died down in her throat. AMBER optics widened, pupils dilated as they were fixated upon the gambler as though he had just uttered something beyond ridiculous. and he ... did. never in her days as a nameless, as THE STELLARON VESSEL, as the trailblazer, had anyone ever said that to her. everyone thought that she was fortunate, they thought her all powerful and free to chase the dream and follow akivili's path.

                this was the first time anyone had seen through it all. through the smile, through the heroic achievements, through the tales and battles and victories ...

                it was the first time someone saw through the MASK, right to her core.

                who am i ? is this all i am ? the vessel for the stellaron ? a pawn of the script ? when will it end ? enough enough enough.

                for a moment, THE TRAILBLAZER was unable to say a single thing back to him. she didn't know what kind of expression she was making, and a part of her should feel uncomfortable for being exposed like this. she was being seen through, being vulnerable, she should despise that. then why ... ? why was it that she felt a sense of ... relief ? that feeling of being HUMAN, of being recognized. why was it that her eyes were burning so much that she didn't realize how badly her hands were shaking.

                as though she had silently wished for someone to know that ... to hear the screams trapped within the back of her throat. the THINGS she couldn't tell anyone ( i can't. i can't. they all need me. so many depend on me. i can't do that. )

                but it hurts. it hurts. it hurts. it's heavy. it's suffocating. the chains. the destiny. the script. i'm tired. i'm so tired.

                she didn't know how long the silence had passed, or how much she had allowed him to see in that moment of weakness she couldn't keep from him. lips tightened, thinned into a line where the stellaron vessel blinked her eyes rapidly, attempting to clear the curtain of liquids welling up in the same beat as the burning sensation she felt earlier. a deep breath was taken, and there was a hint of something in her aureate orbs. something ... unique and rare, directed at the man before her.

                " it's an experience unlike any other. the trailblaze. the astral express. " each syllable hung in the air, it felt more like an invitation than a remark, if the look in those AURIC GAZE didn't tell of that already. eden felt like he'd understand what she meant. he, who was able to see through her like that, would know, wouldn't he ? the IPC ... would they still keep him around ? if not ... then ...

                " you should try it. "

                you should come with me.

[rebelband]

cks was making a cameo in my dream and then my alarm woke me up, so. well. okay.

[jacuzziwaters]

I'm debating on whether I should make a new account for my OCs or just another side blog 🤔

Also I wrote 3 pages of character information just for Zyla sooooo yeah 👍🏾

[italianexotiicbeauty]

@copiious ( for joe ! )

It's been an entire year and a half now since Mary agreed to sign the contract, to be Joe's manager on the west coast only. Her contract had to have that particular stipulation because unlike everyone else that worked solely for the company? She had another job, her main job – this?.Was quite the side hustle. Mary wasn't a fool though, she has a dummy account on most of the social media platforms to see what the fans are saying, because the only personal account she has is Instagram. The tattoo parlor had a separate account for artists to display their work, there was a site linked in the bio as well as an email to contact the management. You know — a typical business account. 

Both rosters were on the road four days a week – and since the schedule literally changed every single week ? She's a bit grateful there's times where she's not needed at all, where it's the old wiseman having to be there and she can be at work or sitting on her surfboard watching the sunset. Did it at all weigh on her subconscious? Yes, it did — because Joe lived all the way on the other coast — 4, 649 miles if anyone needed the numbers. And there were very few who knew the truth — six people to be exact, other than themselves ( Joelle, his mom, Paul, Sefa, Jon & Josh ). It sat on her ring finger the whole time she was back in Hawai'i, she slept with it on and only ever removed it to shower — but they agreed to not wear them when working.

Fans were insanely ruthless, so it was a matter of safety. 

— — —

Today was going to be a tiring travel day for Thursday  — she had to fly to Los Angeles and stay there for four hours until her flight to Portland. Which was where the show was going to be and she had rented herself a cozy little AIRBNB for the night. So she could hang up her outfits and steam iron them all again for good measure, get her nails done and just have … quiet before all the chaos. ( yes, she's flying out a day early. )

She had just left her condominium, the dark green suitcase rolling along the hallway floor of the 30+ condo building. Dressed in a mauve colored loungewear set, flip flops on her feet and a matching dark green backpack with an empty yeti in a mesh side pocket. Her keys and wristlet clutch dangled from a lanyard around her neck, her android phone was neatly tucked inside of the clutch. While in the elevator and on her way down to the lobby, Mary removed a folded yellow slip of paper from the wristlet clutch to put in her mailbox. It was one of those request to hold mail forms for the post office, she had a whole stack of them on her desk for this reason alone — a downside of living alone. No one to get the mail and let it pile up on the coffee table for you, she didn't exactly trust her neighbors … because she was recognized a little more these days due to being on television. 

With the yellow piece of paper now safely within the confines of her mailbox, Mary exited the building and began walking towards the back of it. Where the parking lot was and only briefly stopped to remove the keys from the lanyard. Unaware that in those few seconds, the rolling suitcase had been taken — not in a nefarious manner, but was she in for a surprise when she turned around and squeaked!  “ — !!!” Uncertain of what to say — because standing before her were both Joe and Paul, who had his hand wrapped around the luggage handle. “ …. I …. hello to the both of you, I'm sure you'll explain to me why you're here but I also … kind of need coffee and a breakfast sandwich before going to the airport.”

[yeonban]

Being in Tobias' mind is such an intriguing experience bc you'd typically expect him to only care about getting richer and richer for riches' sake like most other "villains" do, but all he wants is excitement, fun and the feeling of being alive. He couldn't care less if his life were to be put at stake, nor if his entire wealth were to vanish overnight. Sure, he's confident he could get it all back if it ever happened, but it also shows what money is to him. A means to an end, rather than the goal to strive for

[yoshistory]

i really fuckin hate my current roommate situation for multiple reasons. one of which is due to him deciding to quit her job immediately after i moved down here i had to be the only leaseholder with a secret roommate situation. and now. their gate system is changing and uses an app to open the gate with a verified occupant's phone number. fuuuuck im like banging my head against the wall

[titan-wolfdog]

Pairing: Sekiro x Emma / Wolf x Emma Word count: 896 Summary: Emma catches the One-Armed Wolf in a manner no shinobi ever wishes to be caught: vulnerable in his sleep.

Believe it or not, still writing! I focused mostly on my novel/personal project the past couple of months, but I'm still writing even if not posting. The whole A* I* thing demotivated me some but hoping to get back in the swing of it 💪NOTHING CAN OR WILL KILL THE INDOMITABLE HUMAN DESIRE TO TELL STORIES 😤😤😤

[americanphancakes]

I wanna talk about my mind for a little bit

I was gonna save this until after I posted the last Wingless Angel chapter but I can’t post it yet. Pretty sure my mind wants me to get this out of my system first.

So hi everyone, how are you? How have you been? Honestly if you’re still following at all I’m delighted.

I don’t want this to come across as some excuse for all the unfinished fanfic I left behind 3+ years ago, which is why I wanted to publish WA first, so I hope you don’t take it that way. But I ended up stumbling upon an aspect of my mental health that I’m still trying to address and since I never really saw anyone post or talk about my particular issue before very recently, I wanted to share it in case it resonates with anyone.

(Clearly stuff has changed, this is where I'd normally put a "read more" but.... I guess that's not a thing anymore?? Hopefully this isn't a huge annoying wall of text on everyone's dash, oof.)

I’ve posted before about my ADHD. I’ve been getting treatment for it for 10 years now, and for all that time, medication & other coping mechanisms have been helpful to a point, but only to a point. There was still something left that was keeping me from functioning, and I couldn’t tell what it was. All I knew was that I had no will of my own, and I’d spent the last 10 years trying to create situations where the people in charge were asking (or implying that i should do) things I considered good to do. “People in charge” meant anyone besides myself. If someone was not me, they automatically had authority, simply by virtue of being someone external to me.

I did a lot of research trying to find something that matched up with my experiences & feelings, even partially, and I looked into things like PDA autism and even just the people-pleasing habits common with other ADHD folks.

At some point, with therapy, I did learn how to say “no” to other people’s demands of me. I learned to set boundaries. But I was still profoundly uncomfortable with dictating what I was going to do, especially if anyone else was ever going to be aware of it.

When I was a little kid, i was told “no” constantly, and that’s not hyperbole. I’ve cited the story many times of falling in love with the violin when I was 9 but immediately being told “No, you’re going to play the flute.” So I played the flute, but without any passion for it I couldn’t figure it out and I quit, and my mom never stopped making me feel guilty about it. But that wasn’t the only example of that kind of thing. I wanted to play soccer; mom said play basketball, so I played basketball. I wanted to play piano; mom bought me a guitar and my sister got the electronic keyboard. (We eventually switched, but I never felt like I could fully commit to playing the thing). I wanted to learn Spanish or Japanese in high school; mom told me to learn French, so I took four fucking years of French.

My feelings and wishes were effectively not a factor in what I was allowed to do, what goals I was allowed to pursue, unless I was staying in my room and out of everyone’s way (and even then I had to make sure I jumped up to do what was asked of me if I got called from another room). Eventually I learned, as a survival mechanism, to just obey. It wasn’t worth fighting anymore because I was systematically robbed of my individuality at every turn. Something happened when I was 13 that I will never talk about publicly and she played "good parent who has her kid's back" for about 5 minutes before siding with the bad guy. I brought it up years later and she was mad I'd never gotten over it. And all that is on top of being raised to be a "good little capitalist drone" who needs to be perfect and efficient at all times. I was never supported. I was never given grace. So I never gave grace to myself, because if your own parents don't give you grace & time to learn and be flawed, then clearly you don't deserve any, right?

I finally cut my mother out of my life not long after the pandemic began, a few months after having gone no-contact from my father (mostly due to his casual racism & transphobia, which cost me at least one very close friendship when I was a kid, and was unkind to my child in a way I could not abide). My immediate family - spouse and kid - are the only family I have left now. And it sounds tragic on paper, because it is, but until I finally got away from my mother's voice in real life I couldn't filter through the recordings of her voice in my mind so I could finally throw them away. And that knot is still being untied. Honestly this is 10 years into a very long mental health journey, when you think about it, but I wish I'd cut my mom out of my life a very very long time ago. I wasn't angry about lost time when I got my ADHD diagnosis. I was angry about it when I realized that yes, this had been abuse, and I hadn't been courageous enough to get away from it sooner.

Because that dehumanization resulted in me having no will power of my own, and that extended as far as simply not wanting anything anymore. I like things, sure, but anything I WANTED for myself was out of the question, especially if it involved other people in any way, but honestly even solo pursuits became impossible for me to will myself to do. For right now, when I have something I want to do, I'm telling my friends & husband to order me to do it. Because I won't do it otherwise. And it's a potentially dangerous workaround, but it's all I have for now. I and my therapist are hoping that once my brain registers that what other people are telling me to do is aligned with what I want to do, maybe it won't depend on other people's commands anymore and I'll just take control of my own life for once. But that may not work. I'll have to wait and see.

So what does this have to do with my abandoned fics? Well, it had started to become more difficult to write because the adhd "shinyness" was wearing off anyway, but I'd been doing a good job of pushing past it because people liked what I was writing. I could see my skill getting better, and engagement was going up, and that was really motivating. But then... I stopped writing fic all of a sudden because someone made a post about finding it shitty when writers wrote about COVID in their fics, and.... that was sort of a last straw that broke me, because I do exactly that in the last WA chapter. So I just turned tail and ran away. I tried to push through and write & publish the chapter anyway, because it was the LAST chapter and I knew people were waiting on it, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Even having OSBB obligations didn't get me writing again, and given that obligation, the shame I felt about not having finished those stories weighed on me so badly that I couldn't even interact with you guys on Instagram, despite you having been so kind to me in the past. Let's face it, that goes WAY beyond adhd rejection sensitivity, that's a trauma response. I saw one bit of honestly well-reasoned critique of work that wasn't even mine, and I just ran. Immediately I felt like I was no longer allowed to take up space here. I felt unwelcome here in this corner of the internet world, just as I have always felt like I wasn't allowed to take up space in the physical world for almost my ENTIRE life. And the shame I already feel about myself normally was compounded by what I felt was a cowardly thing to do, which prevented me from returning. Now that I've accepted that, yes, I am an abuse victim whose life has been MASSIVELY and MAJORLY affected by that childhood trauma, I'm finally able to address it properly. Over the last few weeks I've been changing the direction of my therapy and my self-talk (reparenting yourself is HARD) and I'm feeling some improvement, but progress isn't linear so my burst of motivation the other night fizzled out, and I'm genuinely sorry for that.

So... yeah, I'm trying to come back and get those fics finished. I'm grateful for any of you willing to be patient with me. Consciously I KNOW I deserve any support willingly given to me by any of you, but I FEEL like I don't. So yeah. Thanks. <3

[its-stupidhours]

the big smir fic is. uh. it's gettin big!

[thestarmaker]

Nothing really makes you realize the depth of the passage of time more than following and looking back on the release dates of your favorite bands' discographies

[poptartmochi]

suddenly thinking about the oracle again... idk if she would be so friendly to lana, if we're being fr

[husbandomail-archive]

I’ve had this sitting around for a few days so. 

Reno/Reader, vaguely titled “first aid”

fem reader only bc he says “ma’am” once

“Why don’t you just use a Cure?”

It was almost routine by now. It happened at least once a week, although the frequency had begun to increase as of late. He would saunter into the office, pristine uniform marred with new stains or scorch marks, and perch himself on the edge of the desk. You’d tried ignoring him at first, but he always sat himself down right on top of your paperwork, so you had to acknowledge him eventually. No matter how much you wheedled or pleaded or— gods forbid— asked politely, Reno wouldn’t move until he got what he wanted.

He glanced up at you from underneath his bangs. The blood on his face was dry, a much darker red than his wild hair. A smile curled its way across his thin lips. The dried blood around his mouth cracked and began to flake off. “Those things are rationed, babe.”

You huffed and turned back to the desk drawers where your first aid kit was hidden. “I find it hard to believe they’d send a Turk to the receptionists for healing.”

Reno shrugged and didn’t respond. As you pulled your little box of supplies out, he tossed his head back and stared at the ceiling, his eyes tracing out faint patterns in the gray metal. Everything in Shinra was dull and gray, the ceiling blending with the walls and the floor and the windows— a vague part of him thought that the place looked better with splashes of blood on the steel floor. At least that was something interesting to look at.

The plastic first-aid box landed on the desk with a muffled thud. You stood out of your office chair and rolled your sleeves up as you examined your patient.

Reno was covered in blood. Most of it wasn’t his, although there was a thick trail of red that had dripped down from his nose and stained his mouth. His unruly hair had finally been tamed, but only because clumps of mud had stuck the strands to his scalp, the nape of his neck. His perfectly-tailored suit had practically been shredded; you never could tell if it was because he’d taken a hit, or if he was just that careless. Between the ribbons of his shirt, scrapes and bruises were beginning to blossom over his skin. He still had that stupid grin on his face.

When your eyes landed back on his face, Reno was grinning. “Like what’cha see?”

“I’d like it more if you weren’t bleeding on my paperwork,” you complained.

The two of you had grown used to this song and dance; as you dug through your supplies for the right bandages, Reno peeled himself out of his ruined shirt and jacket, tossing the fabric to the floor. You glanced back at him and cringed. Yes, his shoulders were nice— yes, his hips were gorgeous— but without that barrier of cloth in the way, his wounds were even angrier than you’d expected. There was no way he wasn’t still in pain.

“Alright,” you tore open the first of many antiseptic wipes, “no kicking this time.”

Reno hissed at the first stinging swipe across his arm; his body tensed up with the effort of not jerking away from you, your paperwork scrunching up as he balled his hands into fists. He still had enough of his voice to make another joke. “It’s not my fault I’ve got fantastic reflexes.”

You snorted as you dropped the now-red alcohol wipe into your trash bin. When you reached for another, Reno stiffened again; you paused, hand hovering above the paper packages in your first-aid kit. 

Reno turned his face away as he listened to you rustling through your medical supplies. It wasn’t like this was a new situation— he’d been a Turk for years at this point, and it just came with the territory. But this was the kind of thing that didn’t get easier with experience. Maybe that was why he’d started coming to you instead of the infirmary; if it had to happen anyway, he’d much rather it be you. At least you didn’t lecture him the way Tseng did. At least you were prettier to look at.

“Hold this.” Reno snapped back to attention at the sound of your voice. He turned just in time to catch the small package you’d tossed at him; it crinkled in his hands as he twisted it around to read the fine print. 

“It’s an ice pack,” you said, lips twitching into a lopsided smile, “since I’m sure your Blizzard materia is rationed too.”

He grinned back, although with the blood smeared across his face, it wasn’t very comforting to look at. Still, he busied himself with cracking the ice pack and pressing it to the worst of his bruises. While he was distracted, you tore open another antiseptic wipe and moved for another of the cuts in his skin.

The two of you fell quiet as you worked, the silence only broken by the occasional hiss from Reno when you applied too much pressure to his aching body. You pulled a washcloth out of your supplies; not wanting to leave an injured Turk alone in your office, you elected to pour your water bottle out onto the cloth instead of stepping to the nearest sink. 

One of your hands landed on Reno’s chin, still covered in dried blood that was most certainly his this time, and tilted his face upward. You could feel his bright eyes looking through you as if you were glass— something about his sharp gaze made your stomach flip. You brought your damp cloth up and finally began to wash the blood off his face.

Reno let his eyes slide closed. No matter how gentle you tried to be, there was always an edge to your movements, something rough and unpolished. He liked it— it was human, and he didn’t get to experience much of that anymore.

Your hands pulled away from his face, and he had to catch his whine in his throat.

“Couldn’t see this before,” you muttered, swiping your thumb at the corner of his mouth, “but that’s gonna need stitches.”

Reno rolled his eyes and moved to push himself off your desk. “Guess I’ve gotta report to the infirmary anyways,” he sighed. 

You shook your head and gently pushed on his chest, urging him to sit back down. Your other hand was busy in your first aid kit, fumbling blindly for the small suture kit you knew Shinra supplied everyone. “I can do those too. Sit down.”

When Reno smiled this time, all the blood washed away, it was much nicer to look at.

“Yes ma’am.”

[laracrofted]

october and november have been so hectic. what do you mean i haven't worked on baby, i'm high octane in two months?