#Pa and Ma taught him better than that

[nelkcats]

Superman doesn't know how to curse

So, Clockwork had sent him to another dimension. No problem with that, he actually liked to explore the different dimensions, though he wondered what "lesson" was there for him to learn.

He avoided all nearby beings (he didn't want to face them, even though he had so many questions for the Martian). His plan was going spectacularly well until he tripped over a chair and hit his foot. The pain was immense and he just started cursing.

Now, Jazz was very sensitive about the "we don't swear in this house" part since he was little so, well, he had to get creative and start swearing in languages ​​she didn't understand. Alien languages ​​he had known in the Infinite Realms.

The first thing that gave away the halfa wasn't the lack of invisibility or the Watchtower-wide intruder alert. No, what gave him away was an embarrassed Superman who didn't know how to explain to his teamates that yes, that boy was speaking in Krypton language, and no, he couldn't translate because he didn't want to repeat what he was saying, but no, it wasn't bad.

Conner and Kara who were visiting laughed at Clark's face, he looked completely mortified. Bruce's insistence on knowing exactly what the boy was saying wasn't helping him. While Conner didn't know as much of the language as the other two Supers, he could tell a curse word when he heard it.

Danny looked up to find many individuals looking at him uncertainly, he chuckled, noticing that a man with bat ears was staring at him and a boy in blue pajamas couldn't bear to look at him.

It was the moment where he realized that his invisibility had failed him, so he did the only thing he could think of: he raised his hand in greeting. And disappeared immediately after.

[greycaelum]

I feel like Satoru has some low level 'I want to save everyone' thing in him because of his abilities. What if Kouki inherited it? Kouki got tangled with a bullying sesh and it resulted to brawling. Well, Kouki tried to be the big boy and talk things out but everything escalated. Just like Megumi-nii! And the parents got called in the principal's office. Satoru, the proud dad becuase he trained him and yn just sighs.

Kaleidoscope Series—Clouds and Mochi Chapters { Son }

—Gojo Satoru X Wife Reader

𑁍 Synopsis:

If there is one person he unquestionably respects, there's only one person in his mind.

It's his Father.

𑁍 Genre: family theme, fluff, angst if you squint, comfort

𑁍 CW/TW: (1.5k)—bullying, guidance office, brawl, Satoru just being a proud dad, and the munchkins protective moments, NOT PROOFREAD this is fight-or-fight *sigh

𑁍 A/N: Better late than never for my munchkin, here's to Kou's 8th birthday. Can't have my little mochi growing up to soon. Excuse Grey for being MIA, I'm dying from simultaneous exams, defense, and work can't believe I manage to sneak this in~ —Grey

If there is one person he unquestionably respects, there's only one person in his mind.

It's his Father.

The unwavering stance of his Papa never seems to falter.

"Again."

Kouki gasp for air on his knees. His sore arms barely supported him as he feels his muscles shaking.

"Get up Kou, on your feet, c'mon buddy." His Papa looked at him observantly but at the same time made no move to help him. "No one's gonna help you unless you help your self little one."

Has was six. Barely got his 'r' and 'l' right but started the daily training with his father. An hour of uninterrupted various activities tired and challenged him. It was the time not even his Mama can come and intervene.

He didn't hate it. Looking back on those times, he is certain that it's the reason he didn't break apart even after his curse techniques nearly shattered his mind.

"In a fight, you don't win just by physical force Kikufuku." His Father sighed, flicking his nose the nth time for losing yet again. "You first shatter the mind." The back of his father's finger knocked on his temples. "Then you break their body."

His Father sternly prohibited him from all the things he learned in their training to use against harmless people.

"What happened to your cheeks, sweetheart?" You asked him, wiping your hands and kneeling before your son who just came home from school. The reddish-than-normal patch and dirt on his clothes awakened your curiosity and fear at the solitary guess in your mind.

"I should've made myself clear. I did say don't use it on harmless people... But." His Papa busied himself cleaning Kouki's wounds while you are inquiring the school about this incident. His Papa's eyes stared at him with a dissatisfied glint. "I didn't mean that you let yourself get kicked around buddy."

Kouki remembers the distress on your face seeing him once again dirty and all. His Father never mentioned a word but only looked at him for a long time before announcing dinner. He finds it unnecessary to fight for himself. He's never been diligent enough to bother proving himself. But it comes differently when it's directed to the people he loves.

Really he never meant to let it get too far. Kouki sighed with his arms crossed over his chest. Sitting in front of him is his classmates, battered and dirty.

They are all sitting on the other side, glaring at him who's sitting by the left seat all alone.

To be fair he did hold back. His Mama raised him better than being a violent person, and while his Pa taught him how to fight, he never taught him to recklessly hit others. He doesn't really want his Ma to come to fetch him in the discipline's office.

Contrary to popular belief, he's a pretty quiet kid in the class. But these kinds of brawls always gravitate towards him since middle school.

The door slammed open. The familiar long white hair of his sister contrasts the gloomy atmosphere of the room. Her bright blue eyes darted from her brother and to the other side of the boys hunched altogether.

A feral glint soon emanated from her eyes. Kouki sometimes has to blame their father for letting Saika join in those training. She's always been a hot-tempered girl.

"You dare punch my broth—"

Kouki was ready to jump on his sister when the door slammed open.

"Ah! There's my boy, no bruises and all clean. See I told you Honey he's fine. Right, Kikufuku?"

The striking silvery white mane of his father gathered all the attention, followed by your figure, worriedly looking at your children. The guidance counselor also went inside.

Satoru looks at the boys on the other side. All looked at him and his wife with pale faces.

"I beat them up. And I'm not going to say sorry." Kouki scowled before the guidance counselor spoke.

"Well, that's not the best thing to say in your situation, young lad." The elder woman sighed. Gesturing for you and Satoru to sit. Saika finds her way to see beside her brother, calm but Kouki can see the bearings working inside his sister's brain.

"This is the..." The woman looked at you and at the record in her hand. "Fifth offense, dear. Quite overdue don't you think?" The elder lady looked at the young boys who are itching to bite at Kouki. "As for you children, five versus one? Really boys?"

Satoru chuckled. You elbowed him stifling him up.

In his defense, he gotta love the humor of the new guidance counselor.

"You won buddy." Satoru ruffled his son's hair making the boy squirm.

"Satoru." You growled, slowly regretting bringing your husband with you.

"He punched us first!"

"You talked to me first." Kouki raised a brow. 

"Mrs. Gojo, anything to say about your son's behavior?" The counselor asked. She looks and acts more calm than the previous flirty lady.

"We're not in the scene, c'mon we're at work. How about you guys tell us? Since you're the ones in school? Hmmm?" Satoru intervened, engulfing your hand in his hold to stop you. "Or how about you guys tell us?" Satoru switched to a friendly tone and looked at the boys.

Let me Honey... it was a quiet note for you.

"He punched us first! We were just talking." One of the boys justified, but quickly hunched his shoulders when he met Satoru's direct gaze.

"You were talking about how I and my sister are witches, with our unusual hair," Kouki lowly growled. Eyes turning shades darker.

"Satoru." You shakily uttered your husband's name.

"It was fine really, if you just talked about me, I would let you go." Kouki's eyes turned dark that you swear they looked so much like his Father's, much more resemblant compared to his sister's. A quiet raging storm. "But if I let you go it's like I feel sorry for myself and my sister for looking like how we are. And I'm never gonna be sorry for looking like my father much more for beating you up." Your son subtly hissed.

"Hmmm, well said, well said." Satoru nodded, once again intervening. Glancing at the new guidance counselor who took off her glasses and frowned.

"You three go out. I need to talk to the counselor alone." You kicked your cats out before they make any more ruckus.

"Now let's talk won't we little ones?" You turned to the children with a sigh.

Satoru waited outside the nearby cafe with his son sitting beside him and Saika busy playing with his sunglasses.

It's not the first time, to be fair, he was ready to transfer his kids the second they wished so. But Kouki endured it. Satoru knew his son's temper, perhaps better than you. It's a man-to-man thing. The lil' mochi wouldn't complain if it's just about him. He would keep quiet even if the kids isolate him. Even if he's always left with the shortest stick, the hardest challenges. The lil' guy would just accept it and go on.

He's always been a little worried for his son letting himself put up with such grievances. But later he understands that the little guy just doesn't wanna bother too much about the temporary things. And that he just has a different trigger than the rest. It's not about him, but his trigger lies in those he holds dear. And that doesn't make Kouki weak, it just makes him more untouchable by ephemeral situations.

He doesn't need to say much but ruffling his son's long hair is more than enough to make the little one lit up.

"Did you won?"

"Of course Papa, not a scratch or a punch. See?" Kouki grinned showing off his pristine uniform as clean as it was when you ironed it this morning.

A familiar silhouette of a young rebellious teenager with black hair flashed through Satoru's mind. As calm and organized Megumi looks, the kid was worth a dozen being the "problem" child that Satoru never really had a problem raising.

"Good boy, next we'll learn jujitsu."

"Satoru your son is still just 9." You cut him off. Setting your bag beside your husband.

"Mama," Saika ran to your legs.

"Nothing too early to start discipline." Satoru shrug. "C'mon Honey, I'm his father. Can't have my son getting kicked around."

You sighed, shaking your head and told the kids to fetch their bags. You're bringing them home early today. When they came back Satoru took their bags, your children more than excited to go home.

"Kou, Sai,—" you kneeled in front of your son and daughter, bringing their hands to your lips. "—being different doesn't make you any less. To the people who really love you, you'll never be any less."

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

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All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned images(s) and songs(s) used, belongs to their respective owner(s)

General/Kaleidoscope Series Taglist: @ice-icebaby  @aeanya  @gummy-dummy @tender-rosiey @lexiene @nevermoresworld

[suzukiblu]

hungry kon for WIP Wednesday please!

Patrol is quiet, and Clark keeps an eye and an ear on the city as they fly above it in a clear, cloudlessly bright sky. He hopes the sun is giving Kon some of the things his milk can’t, if nothing else. They don’t technically photosynthesize nutrition, but . . . well, it’s close enough there’s not much difference, at least for him. Kon and Jon both need more actual food than he does, but . . . 

It’s something, Clark hopes. 

Flying in Metropolis is something he only does with Kon. Jon he and Lois only let fly out at Ma and Pa’s or other equally isolated places, out where there’s no chance of him being spotted. He’s still just a little too young to be expected to handle the risks of that. The world already knows about Kon, though, and he’s physiologically older and more experienced with combat and just better-trained all around. Actually trained, where Jon’s only really been taught how to control his powers; not how to fight with them. Self-defense versus offense. 

And Kon has an aggression in him that Jon just doesn’t, and while Clark doesn’t necessarily like that, it’s something that makes Kon stronger in the field than Jon would be. He doesn’t pull punches when he shouldn’t; doesn’t hesitate when there’s a threat or a mission. Doesn’t hold himself back. Doesn’t second-guess if he’s all-in on a fight; if he’s going to get back up when he gets knocked down, no matter how many times it happens or how hard it is. 

Clark’s proud of him for that, but hates that he’s had to learn it so young.

[oh-saints]

Would you write a fluffy imagine for Benji Pavard? Like having a little french session and he kisses reader after they get something right? <3

ahjjsskdkl 🤯🤯🤯 oh to be taught by ben.........

but hope you like it nonny! <3

lesson

French is notorious for being a hard language to master and knowing this, your boyfriend is more than happy to provide an extra motivation for you…

benjamin pavard x you

tw: google-translated French words so pls cmiiw

wc: 0.8k

note: this was fun to write but also the hardest bcs I’ve forgotten the French lessons I had during high school. damn, so old. but anyway, I happen to write this during my layover so this is not yet beta-read.

request still open until tonight & you can submit them here!

it was a rather slow day for ben.

having won another Bundesliga trophy, thomas tuchel granted his players a cut to their slacks for this entire day—knowing his players must’ve celebrated wildly at their favourite local pub till the wee hours in the morning—before continuing another rigorous session tomorrow.

so ben decided to surprise you at home with some of the pastry delicacies you’d come to love from his favourite bakery—which was rather hard, finding an authentic French bakery in munich—and your favourite tub of ice cream. your choice of hangover remedy was odd, he found at first, but now he couldn’t ask for anything else to cure his buzzing head.

ben was expecting you to be sprawled in your working station—which happened to be the coffee table in the living room—with sheets and papers and numbers all over the place, as usual, so he was the one getting surprised at the only sight of your laptop and your hair was not tied in a pucca bun. the latter would’ve meant you were dealing your work with stress and that would’ve been something he could take on well by now.

“gauche means left…” you spoke to yourself as you jotted down the meaning. “droit means right… so that means c'est à gauche du four?” (it’s to the left of the oven)

“c’est à côté de four sounds better, no?” (it’s next to the oven)

you were startled at ben’s voice, the owner placing down his shopping bag at the kitchen island. you panicked instantly—not because you thought it could be somebody else, but that would mean ben just found out about your little secret. the one that you’d been working on since you started dating him six months ago.

“ben!” you jumped to your feet, albeit standing awkwardly because you weren’t ready to reveal the reason why you were enrolling yourself to a French lesson. “I don’t know you’re coming home early.”

“coach dismissed us early,” ben chuckled at your weird stance, noticing your nerves, so instead of getting his usual welcoming embrace from you, he was the one who pulled you to his arms. “too many of his players left their heads at the club.”

fuck your initial thoughts, your mind was being taken over by your favourite scent—ben after showering with a bit of his perfume spray—and your favourite kind of warmth exuding from your boyfriend’s body. naturally, you hugged him back, your hands trying to reach one another at ben’s back.

“never thought you’re picking up French, ma chérie,” he placed a well-positioned kiss on the crown of your head. “tu t’en sors?” (how are you managing?)

“pas trop, non,” not really, you replied and ben smiled wider, despite you not being able to see them. for someone who was previously confused about left and right, you were doing better than average in accent and simple phrases like this. “can you help me out?”

“thought you’d never ask,” and when you flashed him those eyes that reminded him of a lost puppy, he was a goner. he didn’t think he could ever say no to that, so cute he could die. instead of dying, though, he kissed your lips. “what topic are we covering today?”

“I’m having troubles with directions...” you said sheepishly as you sat back down, him following suit. “you know I’m generally not good with them too.”

ben laughed because you were right. you and maps shouldn’t belong in the same room without assistance. but he pecked your cheeks anyway. “but I’m already proud of you figuring out how this whole feminine and masculine thing, just so you know, okay?”

a praise from the native certainly uplifted your mood again. you were on the verge of breaking down before ben stepped into the house because god damn, that was difficult. if you weren’t planning on giving him a surprise for their 1st anniversary, you would’ve given up.

but later, you realised that it was rather ben’s preferred method of teaching. he never scolded you if you got any of the pronunciations or the articles wrong, he just corrected you gently. whenever you nailed a difficult word, you’d always get praises from him. and whenever you figured out a sentence on your own, your boyfriend would always add a kiss at the end of his praise.

“bien joué, ma chérie!” well done, my love and followed by a peck, was the most common form of his praise.

but there was also times when he was truly blooming in joy and proud as you aced a more complicated sentence, both by structure and by grammar, on top of not getting confused between left and right. that was when he slipped in a longer sentence because he knew you love his kisses so much, anywhere everywhere.

“félicitations, mon amour,” he whispered after giving you a longer, deeper, more deserving kiss before diving in again for another peck. “tu l’as bien mérité.” (congratulations, my love. you deserve it.)

you really should’ve asked for his tutelage in the first place instead of subscribing to duolingo if this was what you’d get every French lesson.

[the-pen-pot]

Peregrinate - to travel or wander from place to place.

Gwaine didn't need much. A bit of coin in his pocket and some ale in his belly was enough to inspire contentment. All the other things people tended to seek – a home, friends, lovers who stayed longer than one night, a family – they held little interest for him. They tied him down. He'd rather be free and easy, without a responsibility in the world. That way when his life went to shit, there was no one to blame but himself.

He hadn't started out like that, of course. No one did. He'd been a kid once, with dreams and ideals. He'd thought of being a knight under the king's banner. He'd known it was his calling. Right up until the day it turned out that a knight should be loyal, but a king need not bother.

His pa died in a battle he should never have fought, and he and his ma were left with nothing. He didn't blame his mother for following her love to the grave. He would have done the same, if all he had left to keep him in the world was a life of poverty and a son full of rage.

Leaving was the easiest choice. It didn't matter where he was or what was happening, he had learned to go before he wore out his welcome. He wandered – peregrinated – he remembered that from his tutors. After all, only commoners walked places. A lord, even a disgraced one with no bloody horse, would not stoop to mere walking.

He had to admit it sounded better in his head. It sounded purposeful. Better than the truth, anyway, which was that he fell from one tavern to the next, either charming or punching anyone who took offence at his presence.

That was how he ended up in a brawl, a knife wedged in his thigh and hurting like the blazes. That was how he came 'round later to a sweet, dark-haired lad with the brightest smile he'd ever seen, and a blond pillock who swung a sword as easy as if it were breathing.

In his defence, Gwaine had always given Camelot a wide berth. It was a troubled land, from all that he'd heard, so he could forgive himself for not immediately recognising Prince Arthur. Still, just because he didn't know his precise name or title didn't mean he couldn't read the breeding in him. He was a noble through-and-through, with all the arrogance that went with it.

If not for Merlin, he would probably have limped away there and then. He'd never have gone to Camelot. He'd certainly never have gone back once he left the first time, eager to get away before the friendship could lose its shine.

If not for Merlin, he'd not have had this life, and it would have been a crying shame.

These days, he was a knight on his own terms, not because of the blue in his blood, but because he was good with a sword. He had friends who joked and smiled and teased, but always with a fondness that robbed their words of any sharpness.

Leon was gracious, and Gwaine had never met a more steadfast man. Elyan was always there to talk to and never held any judgement for the stupid mistakes Gwaine made, even now. Lancelot's compassion put them all to shame, yet he never made them feel bad for their petty, human thoughts. He made them better men, of that Gwaine was certain. Percival was a wonder. He could probably stop a charging bull with his bare hands, but Gwaine had never known a more gentle soul.

They'd die for each other. He just hoped it never came to that.

He didn't think it would. For all that he was a prat, Arthur was one of the few good royals Gwaine had ever met. A man had to dig deep to reveal his kindness – because that bastard father of his had taught him all the callous cruelty that came with power – but it was there. All it needed was someone to let him know, in all the subtle little ways, that compassion was a strength, not a weakness, and that being a decent human being wouldn't make him a bad king.

That was Merlin's job. Well, that and keeping the rest of them on their toes. He could have been like one of the breathless pages, chasing after the knights with hero worship in his eyes. He could have been an obsequious little toad, always looking to ingratiate himself to his so-called superiors. Thank the gods that he was anything but.

He poked holes in Arthur's ego and made sure none of them ever got too big for their britches. He pointed out when any single one of them was being a fool, often with a glimmer of absolute glee.

He reminded them that, underneath all the trappings of rank, they were men at heart, all made of the same stuff and all of equal value.

Gwaine had spent years travelling the realms and calling it freedom, ignoring the loneliness that consumed him like rot. Now, he had friends who were as good as any family. They knew him. Not just the jokey facade he put on to please the world, but what lay underneath. He no longer had to roam, looking for something and denying it all the while.

He'd found home, and it wasn't a place like he'd always believed. It was the people who proudly claimed him as theirs, the bad bits, as well as the good.

His wandering days were over.

[sketchy-rosewitch]

Could You Be Seen With Me and Still Act Proud?: Vincent Sinclair x male!reader

Warnings: homophobia, ableism (I think that’s what calling Vincent a freak would fall under), abusive parents from both sides.

A/N: Honestly Vincent would be the second easiest Sinclair brother to confess your love to. Also not me using a Heathers reference 🤭🤭

The school hallway crowds at one end as you and Vincent walk to your next class. Loud yelling and cheering can be heard, you furrow your brows and look at Vincent before the two of you book it down the hall.

Mandy, one of you and Bo’s friends comes up to you. “Bo’s getting beat up by a couple of guys. Talkin’ like it might have to do with Vinny!”

Your stuff drops to the ground and you push your way through the crowd and into the fight.

You grab the flannel of one of your classmates and pull him back. Punching him in the nose, he falls back.

“You’re defendin’ the damn freak too!?”

You sneer and kick him roughly. Bo has the other guy against the locker, you lower your guard enough for the first guy to get up and punch you. He throws another one at you, a groan escapes your chest.

There’s a loud whistle and all of the students disperse, only leaving the four of you, Vincent and Mandy still in the halls.

“Get up! Principals office, all of you.”

Mr. Kent, the gym teacher and you and Bo’s baseball coach shouts. The four of you are quick to get up, Mr. Kent is right up your asses. As you pass Vincent and send him a wink, he shakes his head in disappointment and leaves with Mandy to go to their last class.

-

“You can’t keep doin’ this. It’ll ruin you.” Dr. White, your principal sighs and leans back in her chair. “I’m giving a week suspension and you’re helping cleaning the cafeteria after lunches when you get back.” She finishes. “I just hope you have something planned when you graduate or you’ll end up in jail. I personally don’t want any of my students in jail.”

“Oh yeah, got stuff planned Dr.White. No need to worry about me. I’m just defendin’ a friend s’all.” You smile, you’re slouched in your chair, with your hands clasped.

She sighs and brushes a loose strand of her permed hair from her face. “You’re very smart. Very good grades, you only get in trouble for things like this. You don’t need to fight everyone who says things about Vincent. Those boys out there are not gonna end up in good places, pick and choose your battles and let life handle them.”

You look up at the ceiling, trying to choose your words wisely. You look back at the messy haired principal and smile. “Will do.”

You hear the door open and your parents bust in. “Ma, Pa! She was just finishing up!” You smile, standing up to go and hug them. They stand with more than pissed faces.

“Oh no you don’t. Sit your ass back down.”

You do just that.

“Dr. White. We are so sorry. We taught him better than this-“

You zone out, it’s the same speech as the last five times and even the first five times this has happened. Really all you cared about was how you were gonna hang out with Vincent tonight.

The guest bedroom would be a good idea. The locks don’t work and the window doesn’t squeal when you touch it. It’s downstairs too, it’ll be easier to get out. Then you could go behind everyone’s houses and sneak up using the latter Dr. Sinclair always has in the back.

“Get up.” Your mom grabs you by the ear but let’s go when you comply with her command. The three of you walk out of the office.

“Bye Mr. Sinclair.” You wave your fingers at him, he mimics you, attempting not to laugh. “Andy, Abel, I’ll see you two in a week. Hopefully scraping gum from under the tables.” You chuckle, loving their pissy faces.

-

“You gotta stop doin’ this! Lucky we don’t whip you straight boy!” Your dad shakes his head. “This better not be because of Dr. Sinclair’s boys either. I am sick of you gettin’ in trouble because one of them can’t stand people talkin’ about his brother a certain way.”

“Well no one should be.”

“Shut your mouth. It ain’t like they’re lyin’! That Dr. Sinclair shoulda let both of them suffer and die. Instead we gotta go an’ have a psycho and a freak runnin’ around our town!”

Your fists clench. “Bo ain’t a psycho and Vincent ain’t a freak. They was just born that way and that’s okay! I hate when you say shit like that!”

“You watch your mouth, I only say shit ‘cause your reputation is in shambles ‘cause o’ them. They cause all this trouble here and you get dragged along!”

“Who cares?!”

Silence falls between you and your dad. He frowns and you realize you’re in deep shit.

“Gonna end up in jail one day boy, you best get you ass up to your room ‘fore I beat you.”

For once you listen, huffing and trying not to say shit. You close your door and lay in your bed.

-

Your knuckle taps against Vincent’s window and you wait for him to come to it. His long black hair shines in the moonlight as he opens the window.

“What are you doing here?” His raspy voice is aggressive, but you can’t help to smirk at him, you know his tone is that way because he’s nervous not because he doesn’t want you here.

“Come to save you Rapunzel.”

Vincent’s eye squints, he rolls it and grabs his crossbody bag, knowing that you’d keep nagging him until he agreed. You climb down the later, Vincent following after you.

“I was gonna ask for you to let down your hair but I think that would’ve woken your parents up.” You joke, Vincent shoves you and you try and not laugh. Taking his hand you guide him into the wooded area that surrounds the town and to the creek.

Gravel crunches between your shoes and you set down your coat for Vincent and you to sit on.

“Anything happen to Bo?” Concern fills your voice, Vincent shrugs and grabs a rock, skipping it across the water.

“Same old.”

Lecture, mom getting huffy and leaves the room, dad ties his wrists together and beats him with a belt, sends him to his room without dinner. Then Vincent gets praise for being so good and never getting into trouble.

“My dad didn’t whip me this time. Then again I stopped talkin’ back an’ went to my room when he said. I’m grounded the full suspension and then some. Don’t matter though cause I’ll always find time for you.”

Your chest swells a bit. You always like time with Vincent, these moments you feel like yourself, Vincent doesn’t judge you and you don’t judge Vincent.

“Why do you find time for me?” Vincent’s voice is almost a whisper, when he asks your brain feels like shutting off. You were always honest with him.

When you were younger you’d tell Vincent how cool he was with a mask on. You told him even if he took his mask off he’d still be cool. Then throughout school you’d tell him how much you struggled and just wanted to leave Ambrose. You’d do anything to get out. You just weren’t truthful about one thing, and you should’ve been.

“I uh-.”

Your confidence falters and vulnerability shows up. Your whole body feels like it’s sweating, like you’ll melt into a puddle any second. Vincent turns his head and looks at you. All of the air in your chest leaves. Why was this so hard?

“You take pity on me don’t you?” Vincent’s voice gets defensive, he’s on the verge of building up a wall that you don’t have the time to knock down. You panic.

“No! No! I’m- fuck I’m so scared to say this. You have to promise you won’t tell no one. Not even Bo.”

Vincent nods and holds out his pinky, you take it in your and shake it. The anxiety in your stomach seems to dissipate.

“I’m in love with you Vincent.”

The silence feels as though it’s stabbing you. The thing is Vincent is almost always silent so this shouldn’t be any different. Yet it is, you confessed your love to him and he could fuck you over completely and tell Bo, then Bo would tell the entire school and you’d be dead meat.

“I hope what you’re saying is true or I’ll kill you and make it look like an accident.” Vincent pulls his mask off, he’s never done this in front of you. Adrenaline courses through your body.

“It’s all true. Vincent I’m so fucking in love with you. There’s not a day that’s go by where I couldn’t defend you. You mean so much to me.” Words flood out of your moth and into Vincent’s ears. He looks at you and you realize him wearing a mask protects him from an even crueler fate of this town. They just don’t understand beauty, they never will with their closed mind sets.

You smile and watch as in the moonlight, pink dusts Vincent’s face. “You’re so beautiful Vincent.”

He stays quiet, clearly not knowing how to respond, your hand touches the developed side of his face, not knowing how sensitive the other side is.

Vincent leans in and you do too. Chapped lips kiss your soft ones. You run your hands through Vincent’s hair, he pushes you down so you law on your jacket. Vincent straddles your lap, a grin plastered on his face. You can’t help but to smile back at him.

Reality sets in for both of you, promises and secrets have to be kept to make sure you two stay alive. You go to say something but Vincent kisses you, not wanting to hear it and ruin this small fantasy world that you two were in.

Everything could be discussed later when you would go and kiss him goodnight.

[somereaderinblue]

MAWS S2 Trinity Theory

So, everyone is theorizing how S2 might introduce more superhero characters to the point the finale involves the formation of the JL.

But yk what I think? I think we should take a step back.

For it to be the whole JL, it'd mean introducing a lot of new characters. Keep in mind that if S2 also contains only 10 eps, that's not a lot of time for each one to develop & for us to subsequently connect with. It'll also encroach on Lois & Jimmy's screen time.

Thus, instead of the JL, it should be the DC Trinity.

Introducing Bruce Wayne/Batman:

-It can be the usual playboy vers or maybe a younger rougher vers like Battinson. 

-MAWS can subvert his usual 'Beware the Superman' attitude & he instead comes to Metropolis for help (after some testing & stalking observing). It’d also be a huge middle finger to a lotta writers if he outright says something along the lines of ‘This guy? A threat? Please, actual puppies have more malice than him.’

-Maybe he strikes up an unexpected friendship with Jimmy over his conspiracy theories, bcz Bruce being Bruce would definitely be investigating similar cases with dead seriousness.

-He can also bond with Clark & Lois by making fun of other corrupt ppl in power (*koff* Lex *koff* Vicki). 

-He unknowingly shows them that like Clark, he too is a good person at his core. Instead of using his trauma as a Freudian Excuse to be horrible, he uses it to be better, stronger, all so a family can safely go home after a great movie.

Introducing Diana Prince/Wonder Woman:

-Maybe Clark assumes she's also a Kryptonian refugee. 

-She isn't, she's an Amazon but they still connect. They understand what it's like to have that inherent feeling of being an outsider bcz you'll always be that one adoptee amongst the billions of others born in the world you've given your heart to.

-Maybe Diana/Wonder Woman bonds with Lois. Lois confides with her abt the struggles with being a minority woman (due to her half Korean heritage) & Diana also admits her uncertainty in navigating Man’s World which isn't as black/white as her mother & sisters painted it to be.

-Jimmy is mostly fanboying bcz Amazons are real! Now he just has to know if they rlly live on an invisible magical island (they do).

-She meets Superman both inside and outside of the cape and she sees that this is what Man’s World is capable of bcz at the end of the day, despite the blood in his veins, Clark was raised by Man’s World. All his virtues and strengths were taught to him by Ma & Pa Kent, not Kryptonian soldiers or Amazon warriors.

I love the JL as much as anyone but I wouldn’t mind if the show finds a middle ground in focusing more on the DC Trinity. Each of them have endured loneliness, each of them are full of so much love they want to give to a world that’ll always choose to take first, each of them will always go above and beyond to do what’s right and save others naysayers be damned.

Most importantly? All of them deserve to be happy and maybe they can find some happiness with each other too.

[alicentsultana]

Where do I even begin ?

Oh let’s start with the fact that your writing style was INSANE .I really love the way you describe things .Dark Alicent my beloved you were done justice in this .

And Alicent having Aegon to attend lessons ma then granting him so wine was such a goof bit and I do think that was in character for both of them .

Alicent played the dutiful way after Viserys died (“Let him rest!”) was such a delicious detail .I really felt for Aegon when he takes the throne and it’s such a nightmare but if he stays delusional his family (and any possibility of recognition)is dead .I SEE what you were doing with Helaena’s warnings and I love it .

The politics in this were all so delicious .Weird word for talking about politics but reading about the Black box and Corlys as hand and Lord Arryn and Rhaenyra’s pregnancy was so engaging .

Alicent losing three kids was a change that struck me ,and I find it interesting because a lot of women lost children in medieval times and now we don’t even know if they actually lost them or even had them so it was interesting in the historical sense .And really sad because the scene where she is caressing her empty belly really did something to me .I stared at the phone for like ten minutes .

Alicole in this was INSANE ,like wdym she literally said she wanted to have his babies ? What do you mean she’s PLANNING to make him hers ? Not that it makes me unhappy actually I was kicking my feet the entire time .

Alicent’s dream was such a haunting and good bit .Aemond being his cunty self my beloved .And you mentioning Daeron with Criston …the way you wiew Daeron is so heartwarming he is such a KID .

And ofc her last words to Viserys were so cunty and so hunting .The way she took his life and the only possibility to ease his guilt after what he did to Aemma was probably the best bit of the entire chapter .”See you in Hell” GODD

I’m so ready for the second chapter and I really thank you for this fic already because it made my day better .

YOU GO ALICENTSULTANA

Omg, thank you so much!

Lessons in exchange for wine is something that totally would happen, this is soft manipulation/motivation.

Alicent must be a cancer, I can feel it, it's in my blood. I have wondered for a long time what is a major manipulation feature one can express, and I totally would play dumb and heartbroken just to see the outcome and cover my actions, I gave her this to make her truly unhinged.

Aegon is doing it for his children and his siblings, this is the sole reason, wine also. I think he used Helaena's vision to justify his actions and feel less guilty about it, but don't worry, there will be no remorse coming.

I'm not a politics girl, like I don't understand anything about it, so in my head I always justify everything as "political undisclosed reasons", but then, Alicent is a politician, her father and life taught her the hard way, so she had, as queen mediator, to act. Including taking risks with helping Corlys raise to position - one snake + one snake = naja and coral. She must be suttle, must analyze everything, every step, no faux pas.

Corlys is playing for the winning team when is convenient, though don't ask me what he will tell his wife.

I also pondered who would be a major Lord who could prove himself against Rhaenyra, and who better than the brother of her mother. Throughout s1 she stroked me as being relapse and naive about the power of court women, while Alicent entertained them, Rhaenyra was mostly doing faces and throwing some tantrums. Who's to say she wouldn't offend, unknowingly, a member of her own extended family? The Arryns are a super important house, and are her relatives, losing them is losing the vale.

Let's not mention Viserys health deteriorating and her doing what? Thousands years of honeymoon? Alicent was pregnant and holding a child while the world was falling apart and pretty girl was doing what? This will be brought up again in the future. Viserys would 100% overlook and think nothing of it (as always).

I have an hc that she had at least three more pregnancies, though she would have lost them by natural causes, I decided to make her get rid of them herself, and lamenting it because obviously she wouldn't want to do it, but she couldn't bring herself to birth more children to an ungrateful crown. I believe after Aemond, she would often tell Criston like "oh, i wish they were yours" both because she lost faith in Viserys, but also because Criston was the dadTM and she's in love with him.

They are very much aware of their feelings, but my intention was to do it much more mature and heavy, more wild and on edge, they are certainly more touchy, more open, not that many notice or see it happening beyond some of her servants and Westerling (he have a keen eye).

But again, they would never be caught red handed (god I really want to post the second chapter, people will scream).

Even if he's already hers, Alicent doesn't content herself with halves, she wants the whole meal, the whole experience.

Daeron will always be a baby, he's not allowed to grow up, he stays in mini size, pocket size. Though she would want it, Alicent won't get pregnant again, she doesn't have the energy to do so, and she is Dowager Queen, she has an image to keep.

She hates Viserys, like, actively, fervently. Alicent wanted to say those words when he was alive but she couldn't risk him not dying.

I'm so glad this made your day better, this is always the major intent! Chapter 2 will come soon, I'll try to post it as soon as possible.

Thank you so much for reading and telling me what you thought of it!

[hazardworld]

SEASON. TWO. OF. MONSTER. TOWN.

Anyway, you asked, I delivered. We’re starting out the season with an unconventional (though one of my favorites) point of view, right where we left off.

Chapters will be interspersed, as I’m currently also writing a big fic on Ao3 about a summer camp for superpowers, which you can find here.

If you haven’t read season 1 of Monster Town, feel free to click these links:

WB: 1.2.3

Season 1: P1.P2.P3.P4.P5.P6.P7.P8

Let’s get into it!

——————

Claudia Henderson stress-cooked.

Being the one 1950s house making lesson her Ma taught her that she deemed legitimately useful, she turned it into a coping mechanism.

It helped that she was naturally good at it, even from the start. With a list of the Machiavelli Pack recipes and her southern Italian taste buds, cooking became chemistry she could eat.

(And of course, she was great at maths and sciences)

What was nice is that something good almost always came out of it, as if some sort of god aligned the planets so her stress coping lead to good karma. For example:

The night before her first SAT in junior year, she made a mostaccoli so dense it forced her to pass out mid-cram. (She wouldn’t’ve gotten any sleep otherwise)

She panicked so badly the night before junior prom she made a 7-layer deep dish casserole that completely distracted Pa from the skimpiness of her dress

When she forgot to get Christmas gifts for everyone she baked cookies: those cookies were then hid and scavenged for around the house for weeks

When a 12 year old almost killed her and her friends through their minds, she was able to soothe everyone with homemade pastina (a childhood favorite)

On her 18th birthday (+Pack line ceremony) most of the delicious sandwiches were made by her notion of using her sleepless insomniac night to her advantage.

She baked the best lasagna she’d ever made before opening her dream college letter: she wanted to open it over a favorite meal

About 30 minutes ago, she’d received a call from Eddie Munson, saying they apparently had Jason Carver tied up at the Byers house and needed somewhere safe to keep him.

Besides the fact that they apparently had come in contact with Jason Carver and had to tie him up—to keep themselves safe, Claudia knew the kids better than that—Joy had been over at her house when she’d gotten the call. They were discussing a death vision she got on the plane from Alaska, one about Jason Carver himself.

Claudia was smart, and so was Joy. They both knew that no matter the circumstance, the moment a banshee got a death vision, their fate was sealed within 24 hours. Otherwise, she would’ve gotten visions about Will, Max, or any of the kids in the various situations the’d been put through these past years—Claudia couldn’t really keep track at this point.

Either way, she knew Joy’s dream had to do with Jason being torn up in the Upside Down (or whatever the kids called Henry’s Realm). If that were the case, how was he still walking, talking, and breathing? It wasn’t physically possible for that to happen.

That’s when she’d gotten the call.

Joy had run off back to her house to make sure everyone was okay, while Eddie and Argyle drove Jason over to the Henderson house. As she waited, Claudia started stress-cooking.

She started with cookies: easy and delicious to many palates. She took some pre-prepped cookie dough from the fridge and rolled it into balls before putting a tray of 12 into the oven to bake. She calmed slightly from the warm scent of sugar melting.

Claudia jumped when the doorbell rang seconds after. Quickly, she moved to the front room and opened the door to a panicked Eddie and a grinning Argyle, both holding a bound, subdued Jason Carver between them.

Claudia raised an eyebrow.

"Did you sedate him?" She put her hands on her hips, and Eddie and Argyle made awkward eye contact.

"Maybe?" Eddie offered, sheepishly shrugging. Claudia laughed and yanked the ropes binding Jason to himself.

"Good. It’ll be easier to tie him to my chairs that way." When Jason got close to her, she winced at the smell. He smelled like burning, molting fish flesh.

It was awful.

Talk about bad people.

“Come on in,” she looked around, hopeful her neighbors weren’t looking through windows at the moment. “It’ll be easier to talk inside,”

“So, boys, what was the issue this time?” Eddie and Argyle made eye contact again.

“He tried to kill Lucas?” Argyle offered.

“He didn’t try to kill Lucas!” Eddie tried to cover, “He just tried to sirenspeak him!”

“John said he did that while pinning Lucas up against the wall, by the neck,”

“Wait, shit, seriously?”

“Boys!” She held up her hands in surrender “doesn’t matter. Obviously it was bad enough he needed to be tied up. Now, we need to make sure he’s secure,”

She had Eddie and Argyle help her tie the body to one of her good sturdy kitchen chairs, so she’d be safe when he woke up.

"Thank you again Mrs. Hen—" Eddie tried to apologize, but she stopped him mid sentence.

"Claudia, dear."

"Thanks, Claudia," Eddie grinned, and started to make his way back to the door.

"Bye! Thanks Mrs. Dustin’s mom!" Argyle grinned and waved, before shutting the door behind them.

Claudia let out a sigh, before looking at the unconscious body at her dining table.

The cookies beeped, breaking her out of her thoughts.

The smell of warm cookies actually evened out and made the dying fish smell worse simultaneously, Claudia noted in disgust. Something seriously had to be wrong with that child for him to smell that bad.

Jason started to wake while she was putting in her second batch. At first, he tried to undo his bondage, then bounce the chair around, and he also tried biting into the rope, but it was all no use.

“Those are extra strength for werewolves, hon. There is no use in trying to escape,” she said while still placing dough balls.

“Who…who are you?”

It occurred to Claudia they had never formerly met.

“Mrs. Henderson,” She replied formally. She’d be cordial, of course, but he wasn’t one of Dustin’s friends.

“Dustin’s Mother…” Jason said slyly. Claudia noted some sort of vocal undertone to his speech, as if it was just slightly warped in some way. His scent took a bit of a sour turn, too.

Claudia turned to the stove, poured herself a large pot of water, and set it to boil. She took out her bag of dry pastina pasta and set it aside for later.

“Is that a problem?”

“You knew my father,” Claudia snorted.

James Carver? Of course she knew him. Not only was James one of the most popular people in her high school years, but he was also best friends with her arch nemesis, Chris Harrington.

“Of course I did, he went to my high school. He was very popular, you know,” was what she told everyone unaware of her deep hatred for the two.

“And you weren’t,” Jason said bitterly. Claudia turned to stir the hot water again, in hopes of it boiling faster. “How would you like to be?”

Some sort of damp scent filled the air, moldy and mildly sour.

“Join me, Claudia Machiavelli. Tell me what you know.”

Quickly, Claudia caught on to what the scent was, and she smirked.

“I’m great, thanks, Jason. I’d prefer to keep my secrets, you know?”

She heard a growl from the corner—strange behavior for a siren—as she poured the pasta into the pot.

Small stars cooked fast.

“You’ve been tainted by the other one, haven’t you?” Jason spit, and Claudia chuckled.

“He could have…tainted me, that’s true, but it wouldn’t really matter, now would it?” Claudia strained the pasta, before moving to sit at the table. Jason’s face was hard to read, but he smelled like a mix of interest and fear. Also, something else familiar that Claudia couldn’t quite place.

Claudia actually did know Steve imprinted (or as Jason wanted to say, “tainted”) on her, and a while ago at that. She had a master’s in child and adolescent development, and due to attending a monster-inclusive school, was able to conduct her thesis on how different monsters develop and interact as young. Even if Steve didn’t explicitly express signs of imprinting, Claudia could see the nuance.

The most obvious sign (at least to her) was how easy it became for him to call her ‘Ma.’ Usually, sirens imprinted first on their parents. Because Steve had Chris Harrington for a father, it wasn’t completely unexpected for Steve to have a lack of parental figures in his life.

The second thing Claudia noticed about Steve was how her touch was very calming, almost grounding to him. Her touch meant he physically knew where she was, and that (because she was with him) she was safe.

Besides, as a species, sirens weren’t typically touchy-touchy, so anytime Steve made little gestures—hands on shoulders, noogies, high-fives, even the uncommon hug—it was a clear sign of claim and imprint.

He was also vulnerable with her—not necessarily a trait of imprinting, but it still mattered—which meant there was a level of trust there above many other people.

“Why—why would it not matter?” Jason asked, attempting to be confident even though it wasn’t working.

“You understand I’m a werewolf, correct?” Claudia asked, and Jason nodded. “Well, my father is currently our pack alpha. When he turns 70, he will enter retirement, and I—his oldest child—will take his place. Because of this, at 18, I was cursed to never be magically convinced, so all actions as a pack alpha could be my own. Do you know what that means, Jason?”

Jason shook his head, and Claudia smirked as she stood up to dish out some pastina (she’d forgotten the egg, but it’d have to do).

“It means, Jason, that no matter what has made an imprint on me, no one, not even them, can use sirenspeak on me. You will fail every. single. time,” She grinned at him. “Now would you like some food? You look like you haven’t eaten in awhile,”

Claudia sat down in front of him with his plate of pasta and a spoon. She fed him a mouthful, which hilariously he didn’t reject in the slightest. She was expecting him to be stubborn and her to have to go through a few locomotives, but he immediately dropped his jaw to receive food.

Before she could feed him a second mouthful, she received a phone call from across the room.

«Claudia?» came Jim Hopper’s voice through the receiver.

"Hello? Jim? Is everything okay?"

«Yes. Just letting you know me and officer Callahan are on our way to pick up the Carver kid»

“Wonderful, thank you so much!”

She hung up the phone and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Why doesn’t the pastina have egg in it?” Came Jason’s voice from across the room. The distortion in it was slightly stronger now, somehow.

Wait, Jason hadn’t ever had pastina before, right? Because he shouldn’t know its name, nor the fact that it was always supposed to have scrambled egg.

“What?” She asked for clarification.

“Pastina, you always made it with scrambled eggs,” Jason frowned.

Claudia had never made pastina for Jason. Even if it was at some sort of school potluck, it was never clear she brought it, and Claudia knew for certain his parents wouldn’t have told him even if it was.

Claudia caught a whiff of that eerily familiar scent once more and all the pieces clicked:

Jason didn’t know pastina or more specifically, her pastina.

Jason’s obsession with Steve and finding out her secrets related to him and the party.

Most damningly, the fact that he knew her full maiden name even when she only introduced herself under her married one.

In front of her may have been the shell of Jason Carver, and he may have been calling some of the shots, but this was not Jason Carver.

This was Henry Creel.

————

👀

S2P2!

Anyway, if you caught it, Claudia was involved in the original Vecna-ing with the Creel family. How so? You shall find out!

Also for reference, Claudia’s the principal of Hawkins Elementary. (She’s also heavily neurodivergent but that’s a topic for later)

(If you’re wondering what pastina is, it’s a dish made with star pasta, scrambled egg, and Parmesan cheese. It’s SUPER nostalgiac for many Italian Americans)

Tag list: @estrellami-1 @cookies-and-doom @beckkthewreck @dbquills @impeachy @sassysleeplord @ironydude @bowl-o-queerios @221b-fandom

[noxexistant]

Thinking about the implications of Oscar and Morris having been abandoned, but Race knows their father works for the trolley company. Oscar doesn't try to deny it so it's not exactly a secret, but I don't get the vibe it's something they'd openly talk about either.

oh my god i think about this ALL THE TIME

like, how did race know? why did race know? and why did he know to bring it up specifically to antagonise oscar?

it’s one of my more firm headcanons that “delancey” is not the brothers’ real last name, so that removes the obvious connection race (and the other newsies) could’ve made with a “[blank] delancey” working for the trolleys. so, consider:

race saw the brothers soaking the trolley workers.

he’s seen loitering around a lot in various scenes, notably reading one of his papes and smoking on a balcony when jack and davey are first selling together, and he runs when he sees snyder. i like to think this, y’know, means something, it’s something race intentionally does. he hangs around and sees what he can overhear, what he can see.

so, race is out late, skulking and loitering to get his first claim at the gossip mill - information’s valuable, if he finds anything good he’ll be able to sell it for papes or money or food or favours - and he hears the commotion from where the striking trolley workers are stationed. he knows better than to walk over on the street lest he get caught up in it, so he clambers up to a roof with a decent vantage point and watches, peeking over the edge.

there aren’t many trolley workers left still out this late, but there’s a group of them, and it’s all in utter chaos now as they wrangle with two smaller figures swinging at them like their lives depend on it. the delanceys. morris has a bat, race can see the glint of oscar’s brass knuckles occasionally catching the light. the blood on the street and alley walls catches the light too, though in the night it looks more black than red. like ink. splattering all their surroundings and the delanceys themselves.

they’re largely silent and efficient, dead cold like they usually are even when faced with the frantic hollering and shouting from the men they’re beating to the ground, but when they’ve all been subdued, oscar turns his attention to a man they’d apparently singled out. he’s been slumped on the floor most of the time the brothers were fighting the rest, but now he’s scrambling back, cornered against the wall by oscar. morris is hanging back.

“been a while, huh?” oscar says conversationally. race strains to hear, brows furrowing. “bet ‘m bigger’n you remember.”

the man says nothing. oscar grabs one of the dropped bats from the ground and strikes the wall beside the man’s head, so hard and rough the wood splinters against the brick.

“or you don’ remember? huh? you need me to let you know? who am i? who am i, pa?”

the man’s still silent. he tries to climb to his feet, but oscar kicks him hard in the chest and knocks him right back down, knocking a haggard wheeze out of him.

“i’m your goddamn son, you lousy son of a bitch! oscar, yeah? you named me. an’ then you didn’t do much else, ‘cept drink and holler and beat my little brother an’ fuckin’ leave!”

there’s a beat of silence.

“beat you too,” the man finally speaks, voice low and croaking. oscar hits him directly in the face, and even from the rooftop race can hear the crack of his nose breaking. morris staggers back, his bat falling to the ground with a wooden clatter, but he freezes entirely like an animal when the man’s gaze snaps to him with the noise.

“don’ you look at him!” oscar shouts, and hits the man again to get his attention back. “you look at me. i’m’onna make you proud, pa. show you everythin’ you ‘n ma taught me ‘bout the world.”

race feels nauseous. nauseous and fascinated. like watching a trolley accident, he can’t tear his gaze away. the man - the delanceys’ father - tries to fight back, but oscar fights dirty and don’t give him one chance. he beats him ‘til he can’t even lift himself up, and only then does he look over his shoulder.

“mo,” he says, breathless. rough, but also too gentle for the blood soaking him. “c’mere. your turn.”

morris shakes his head. oscar goes over to him then, like there ain’t a man laying half-dead, and their conversation’s too soft for race to hear but it seems to convince morris. they walk back to their father with their hands linked, and with his free hand oscar picks up the bat and hands it to morris’ empty palm.

“say hi to ‘im, mo.” oscar kicks the man in the chest again. “pa - ‘s’morris, see? alive an’ strong an’ worth more than you’ll ever be.”

“hi, papa,” morris says quietly. oscar squeezes his hand and releases it, then squeezes an arm briefly around morris’ shoulders too as he brings both hands to the bat and finds his grip.

“make ‘im sorry, mo. make ‘im regret it.”

morris raises the bat.

race leaves, but not quick enough to not hear that first hit.

[patches-bitsandbobs]

headcanons for the RED and BLU Mercs =D

RED Scout: Jeremy, 28 -grew up with 7 older brothers -Ma, no Pa -was often overlooked, so he learned to run ahead -loud mouth, constantly talking, can keep track of the stories he tells and where in a story he is -egotistical, but knows when to reign it back -ADHD, dyslexic, needs to fidget with something to stay focused -street smart -artist -Bonk drinker -has the Sex Bom tattoo BLU Scout: James, 36 -grew up with 1 younger sister -Pa, no Ma -taught his sister how to do a lot of things alongside his Pa -quiet, grumpy, withdrawn, prefers to keep to himself -has a bad leg, but has learned to hide the limp -is crazy smart; can speak multiple languages and could be other classes if he really wanted to -actually drinks alcohol just as much as the RED Demoman -writer -plays dumb in front of the others (RED is jealous of BLU, both because BLU looks like him and is gonna "steal all the ladies if I'm not fast enough", and because he slowly figures out just how fucked up smart BLU actually is. BLU can't stand to be near RED for too long, and often blocks RED out.)

RED Sniper: Mick, 31 -grew up with a mother and father, but is an outcast of the usual Australian lifestyle -grew up secluded in a small location - his family were lonely farmers -skinny but has good stamina -quiet, withdrawn, likes keeping to himself -terrible with people, even worse at socialising -gets lost in his own head a lot/daydreamer -has an owl named Sir Hootsalot -uses jarate -HUGE nerd -spends most of his time in his camper -tall BLU Sniper: Matthew, 25 -grew up with a mother and father, and fit in slightly better with the other Australians -grew up somewhere more crowded - his family were outgoing tailors -much more muscular, but less stamina -loves to talk, extremely boisterous and full of ego, jokes sometimes get too mean-spirited -has bad luck with animals -loves playing pranks -doesn't use jarate -spends most of his time in the base -short (BLU rubs it in that he's more Australian than RED. RED does not give a single shit. RED often sets Sir Hootsalot onto BLU to chase him off because he's so annoying.)

RED Demoman: Tavish, 32 -lost his eye to the Bombinomicon; the socket became haunted -lost his adoptive parents to his experimental bombs, then got taken in by his real mother soon after -drinks heavily -extremely rich; loves to give out expensive gifts -has a haunted sword -hard worker, big lover, the best drinking company -has many stories to tell -cryptid hunter -remembers everything that's said to him, even when drunk BLU Demoman: Todd, 37 -lost his eye from a bomb accident; the socket isn't haunted -lost his parents to his experimental bombs, then got taken in by his real father soon after -can't actually get drunk, no matter how much he drinks -isn't really rich, but makes enough to be comfortable -all of his swords are normal -is a disgrace to the Demolitions line because he's lazy, and this is his first real job -is more interested in music than cryptids (mainly the bagpipes) -has the best jokes in town (RED and BLU get along well, even if RED is confused by BLU's lack of being able to get drunk. they drink and tell stories together and often brainstorm gifts for everyone, as well as construct new explosions and grenade launchers together.)

RED Medic: Ludwig, 59 -was chased out of his hometown on account of being a crazy experimental doctor -doesn't have a Medical licence -values the could-be's and what-if's over actual medicine and healing - he's not overly compassionate and can come off as cold and uncaring -rescued a bunch of doves -blood thirsty, a venomous rage, cynical, can fend for himself -will at least ask for permission to cut you up to try out a new organ (he didn't, before, but after much backlash, he does now. ...sometimes) -took everyones souls then sold his own to ensure he lived longer BLU Medic: Levi, 40 -had a pretty comfortable life as a doctor in his hometown; the locals loved him -has an actual Medical licence -is a complete mother-hen to the point of being smothering -not a good fighter, and tends to stay behind and run away rather than fight -easy to scare -the only implants he's done are the baboon hearts for the Uber - he doesn't do implants or experiments unless it's absolutely necessary -loves healing and being a Medic for the sake of healing - he is outgoing, friendly, caring, and compassionate -saved a raven. the raven knows how to say a few words -has a wonderful singing voice -all of the BLU Mercs still have their souls (RED is repulsed by how caring BLU is. how can you be a Medic and not have a lust for the unknown when it comes to the anatomy of the human body? how animal organs can work inside of a human host? incomprehensible! still, RED invites BLU over for tea, and they love talking about their birds.)

RED Pyro: -schizophrenic - genuinely believes they see rainbows and hears laughter when people die -LOVES fire. absolutely adores it -loves to draw -friendly and affectionate, but doesn't take people's shit. they know to set boundaries and aren't afraid of letting people know when its been crossed -owns a company and is a CEO manager -gets lost in their head a lot -good to talk to (if you can understand them) -has an entire shelf of plushies BLU Pyro: -extreme anger issues; a short temper, violent, and impatient -could literally care less about fire -will not hesitate to dismember someone, even their own teammates, if they get on their nerves -hates to be around anyone -collects fingers -secretly names their flamethrowers -offputting on purpose -stares at you. stares at you. stares at you. sta (BLU cannot stand RED. they are too cheerful and chatty, and no matter what BLU does to try and scare RED away into leaving them alone, RED just keeps coming back with more drawings.)

RED Engineer: Dell, 49 -11 PhD's -cut off his own arm for the Gunslinger -took the blueprints of his father to improve his buildings -civil, has good advice, can play the guitar -his kindness is scary when he's mad -maybe as insane as the RED Soldier when pushed enough BLU Engineer: Dan, 54 -no PhD's -has both hands -gets lucky with his constructions - they barely hold together, and have to be repaired after every use -can't play the guitar, but can play the harmonica -pretty grumpy and always exhausted, but has no ill will toward people -fond of birdwatching (RED is befuddled by how lucky BLU is. no matter how hard RED tries, BLU just cannot remember how to properly construct his buildings so the inner workings don't get overworked into burning out.)

RED Soldier: Jane, 46 -took part in WW2 without being drafted -borderline crazy -has an army of raccoons (he found a group of them and won't leave them alone) -loud, brash, empty headed -PROUD AMERICAN. NO OTHER PLACE EXISTS AND IF IT DOES THEN HE NEEDS TO TEACH THEM HOW TO BE A TRUE AMERICAN -was the roommate of Merasmus for a short time -ALWAYS WAKES AT 6AM, THE TRUE AMERICAN TIME BLU Solider: Johan, 47 -this is his first time in any war, and he kind of enjoys it -just some guy. we're just normal men. just innocent men. -easy to get along and have deep, thoughtful conversations with -doesn't know any wizards -has an army of opossums (he fed a group once and now they won't leave him alone) -literally doesn't care that he's American -gardener! grows his own stuff in his free time, like strawberries and tomatoes (BLU is American. that is all that matters, even if he is a bit of a weirdo and not really that bloodthirsty. BLU is unnerved by RED, but is polite about it.)

RED Heavy: Misha, 58 -grew up with a mother and 3 sisters -hid from the Soviet authorities after escaping from the Gulag; they hid in the snowy mountains -names each and every one of his Mini-Guns -broken English; can speak Russian, German, and some French -intimidating, but humble, and secretly bashful -will let you know when he doesn't want to be disturbed BLU Heavy: Maxi, 55 -grew up with a father and 1 brother -lived in a crowded area, free of conflict -doesn't name his Mini-Guns -better English and Russian, but broken German and French -loves to socialise; very friendly and a gift giver -hugger -competitive (RED and BLU often read together, and chat to each other about the differences in their upbringing. they have deep talks over chess.)

RED Spy: Renae, 52 -spent his entire life as a free-lance hitman -had a fling with the RED Scouts mother -rich and stingy -prideful and obnoxious, taking great ego in what he does -suits are custom made, as are his knives -cold and off-puting - begrudgeingly trusts his team -can speak multiple languages fluidly -has read everyone's medical files (except for a few, because they don't exist) BLU Spy: Renard, 47 -has only been a Spy for 9 years - he's been with BLU for 7 -aloof, gives out too much information, and is a Spy by accident (he trips at the top of the stairs and accidentally gets a trickstab) -buys cheap, normal suits - he's not really interested in looking fancy -trusts too easily; he finds even the weakest of jokes hilarious -terrible people skills, even when disguised. especially when disguised -can only speak English and French -is a massive Tom Jones fan (RED detests BLU. he can't even stand to be within the same room as BLU. RED views BLU as a disgrace to the Spy name, wherein BLU just laughs him off, then trips over his own shoes while leaving. BLU finds RED rude and irritating, but is polite about it.)

-when Redmond and Blutarch die, and Graymann releases his robots, both RED and BLU are forced to join together to fight against the bots and their bombs by the Administrator. they cycle between Mercs, so the same class doesn't go to two raids within the same days. they embark in a group of 6.

-BLU Demoman often asks people to listen to his new music as test listeners. the majority of people like his tunes.

-both Demomen, RED Engineer and Medic, and sometimes, even the BLU Scout, get together to brainstorm new schematics for weapons.

-RED Pyro makes every excuse in the book to go and see other peoples animals. they bring tons of treats and toys for the birds and trash dwellers. the animals, in turn, like them.

-BLU Heavy and Scout are "inseparable best friends" (Heavy's own words).

-BLU Scout gets together with RED Demoman to drink. of the RED's, BLU Scout likes Demoman the most.

-RED Scout and BLU Sniper are the bestest of friends one day, and mortal enemies the next. they often form ideas of pranks, and are generally a terrible duo because of how obnoxiously loud they are.

-RED Sniper is one of the first to clock on that BLU Scout is playing an act. as such, he's enamoured. BLU Scout is the first person that RED Sniper truly wants to get to know more.

-BLU Sniper often pranks the entire RED team, and loves to piss off BLU Pyro on purpose. as such, BLU Pyro pranks BLU Sniper back by charring his clothes to near ash and almost severing an arm.

-RED Medic does not know what sleep is, while BLU Medic gets his full 8 hours. on top of this, BLU Medic is a heavy sleeper, while RED Medic wakes to a pin dropping.

-BLU Spy and RED Sniper get along surprisingly well, mainly because BLU Spy isn't a proper Spy, and isn't trying to piss Sniper off on purpose.

-BLU Pyro will often steal things from RED Medics medical ward. it's not known why.

-BLU Scout, Medic, Engineer, Spy, and Soldier, and RED Medic, Heavy, Pyro, and Demoman, will birdwatch, if the location they're stationed in has birds.

-BLU Scout often hangs out in BLU Medics ward. he likes the radio, as well as Medic's raven.

-RED Spy is unnerved by BLU Scout.

-RED Pyro often holds parties that they invite everyone to, which ranges from drawing, baking, reading, or plushie making.

-RED Soldier likes BLU Pyro because of their unrelenting rage. the two often get into scraps that RED Heavy has to break up.

-RED Heavy learns English with RED Spy and BLU Heavy through translations of books. this is also where a small book club forms, with both Medics, RED Sniper, and BLU Scout and Soldier.

-RED Pyro and BLU Medic often help BLU Soldier in the garden.

-BLU Scout is even more secretive than RED Spy, and is much more of a mystery.

-BLU Medic has formed a shoddy band with RED Engineer and BLU Demoman. they only preform for BLU Medics raven.

-BLU Scout and RED Demoman teach BLU Medics raven words. now she knows how to say "fuck".

-BLU Sniper is "obviously too manly and cool" to knit, but if RED Pyro asks, BLU Sniper never turns them down. they have made many scarfs and jumpers together.

[wutbju]

It is with heavy hearts we announce the passing of James Hartley Young (Jim) on October 17, 2023, in Sebring, Florida, at the age of 90. Jim was born on February 25, 1933, to Edwin and Elizabeth Young in Plymouth, Massachusetts and was the youngest of eight children.

After graduating from Bob Jones University in 1955, Jim began his 27-year military career as a chaplain in the United States Army. In the military he was awarded the Senior Parachutist Badge with the 82nd Airborne Division and the Bronze Star with the 20th Engineer Brigade in Vietnam. He also served with the 1st Cavalry Division, Korea; the 1st Infantry Division, Fort Riley, KS; Special Operations Command, Okinawa; and was in the 5th Signal Command, Germany. From 1970-1975 Jim was Chief of the Course Development Branch, Deputy Director of Correspondence Courses and Chief of Military History Writing Team at the U.S. Army Chaplain Center and School at both Fort Hamilton and Fort Wadsworth, New York. While stationed at Madigan Army Medical Center in Tacoma, Washington he was the Chief of the Department of Ministry and Pastoral Care. Over the course of his military career he earned numerous medals, citations and awards. He retired full colonel in 1982. But ever the patriot, Jim requested to be re-instated during the 1990's Gulf War. He was disappointed with being denied because of age.

Jim had a love for education and spent most of his adult life as a student. While serving in the Army he earned seven Masters degrees: an MA in Clinical Psychology, MA in Counseling Psychology, MST in Sacred Theology, MA Political Science, MA Journalism, THM Theology and MDiv Divinity. He also completed four doctorates: Doctor of Theology, Doctor of Political Science, Doctor of Ministry, and Doctor of Clinical Psychology.

While working on his last doctorate his wife, Janis, passed away. A year and a half later he met and married his second wife, Dolores Mallery Pies.

Preaching was the foremost of Jim's passions. The Conservative Baptist Association of America ordained him in 1956 in Middleboro, Massachusetts, and from that time on he endeavored to be in the pulpit at every opportunity. From serving as a U.S. Army Chaplain on the front lines in Vietnam to being an interim pastor at numerous local churches, Jim's desire was to be serving his Lord in ministry.

After retiring from the Army, he taught 17 different undergraduate and graduate courses at Bob Jones University in the span of just four years. He then moved to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, and founded Christian Therapy Services where he as a clinical psychologist spent many years counseling and helping individuals who were experiencing spiritual, emotional or psychological battles. After the 9/11 attack, he volunteered and served as counselor to survivors in New York City.

Jim was an avid athlete, excelling in basketball, handball, swimming and tennis. He also loved music, especially the old hymns, and even took up playing the violin at the age of 68. He loved animals and had chickens, dogs, cows and a horse on his mini-farm in Gettysburg, PA. And nothing made the end of his day better than having a big bowl of ice cream, a love that he passed on to his many grandchildren!

Jim was preceded in death by his first wife, Janis Swanson Young, grandson Jason Robert Dayhoff, stepdaughter Lorrie Pies, and all his siblings. He is survived by his wife, Dolores Mallery Pies Young, and four children; James Young, Jr. (Mary Anne), Julia Young Fremont (Gil), Jorai Young Dayhoff (Bob) and Joy Young Bates (Tim). He is also survived by two stepsons; Kevin Pies (Lisi) and Jeff Pies (Leigh), 14 grandchildren, 23 great-grandchildren, six step-grandchildren and two step-great grandchildren. He was a beloved husband, father, grandfather and uncle and will be sorely missed by all who knew him.

Funeral will be on October 25, 2023. Feel free to send flowers; or better yet, honor his heart for preaching the gospel by donating money in his name to a gospel preaching or missions outreach ministry.

[the-woild-is-y-erster]

I'm going to bed soon, but I just want to say (as an adult that dropped outta college and then went back) that your education is not final. It's not be all end all.

It'll hurt for a while, everythin hurts for a bit, but either you'll tell her or you won't, and that's okay. Your choices are for you, and we all care about you man. You're not stupid for jus like? feelin feelins. All that shits totally normal and valid but you hafta stick with life nd with us or whoever you ends up spending life with. I can't help much nd I ain't gonna pretend I can (<- on the aroace spectrums) with the whole love thing, but jus know that it's ALWAYS better to write your thoughts out then keep em inside. That way you can come back later and look at them nd see your thought processes nd stuff. Or you can write em out nd delete it if that helps.

Life might suck right now, but it ain't gonna suck forever. The only way that it WILL suck forever is if it's cut short, so don't let that happen, y'know? If life tries to kick you down, throw mfing hands and take your time and get back up when you can. It don't matter when you do, just that you do at all.

I dunno. I dunno if this helps, but I'm jus tryin to say that you're not alone and youse cared about nd also jesus christ my typing style help god please not the newsies the infection (/lh). Stay safe man. - Jack

fuckyou im sobbing now/lh

i just

i grew up being taught that showing any emotion besides Happy or Neutral is Bad!™️ so its really difficult for me to like

deal with anything? because i was taught to push feelings down and stick it out, and my parents have made it all worse by never showing emotion either. i didnt see my dad cry in front of me until i was fourteen, and the only time ive seen my mom cry was when i got a bad grade, so its all fun and games here. and my pa is literally bashitbonkersoutthewazzoo. like he's a conservative (we live in the south us for context so its even Worse!) and he taught me to shoot a gun at the ripe age of three! and theres a gun in every room and he's a. he reveres ben shapiro and jesse kelly and those guys, and i spent the entire quarantine listening to him talk abt how the election was faked and how covid was either fake or brought by the chinese (he couldnt decide) and hes severly racist!!! yippee!!/s so feelings arent a big thing in my house.

added onto the fact that i was raised christian? the first time i looked at a girl differently, or the first time i realized how uncomfortable i was jn my own body was horrifying to me. im atheist (ish? it's complicated) now so it doesnt matter to me, but i still have all that internalized crap abt liking her.

and i have severe pain in both of my knees like literally 24/7 and ive had it for YEAAARS but my ma didnt believe me until super recently and so i only just got an appointment with an orthopedic doctor! because the first general doctor told me i was faking it<3

and!!!!!!! the real fukcing kicker!!!! my parents have blatantly refused to pay for my education!!!!!!! like outright and several times!!!!!! only because i wanna get my bachelors in fine arts in theater!!!! they said it was a stupid degree and that i would get nowhere<3 so ive got that ahead of me too. and the last time i got a bad grade, i got grounded for two months. and it was a 79.5 on a minor quiz.

so we have fun here.

but i have all these plans!!! and dreams!!!! and places i want to go to and food i want to eat and languages i wanna learn!!! so i know that i'm not gonna off myself, but sometimes.

sometimes it seems reaaaally tempting.

but i really genuinely appreciate you, and riff, and toff, and dave, because you guys are so much nicer and more sympathetic than anyone i know irl.

so like.

love you/p <3

[sing-it-out-anonymous]

hello 2023 <3

Happy new year my tumblr anonymous friends. it's been a while jud. my last post was March 2022. Daghan jud nahitabo sa akong year. and i thank God jud sa tanan for surviving this year sa mga challenges mentally, emotionally, and financially. these are the things i've learn and/or acknowledge from 2022: 1. that i need to surrender my future sa Ginoo. i cannot hold everything in my hands. i need to be idealistic and realistic at the same time. they said that having a "God" is just an excuse for not making it in my own strength. actually i made things from my own strength--without knowing. but my strength and my energy won't last. however, God's strength gives me peace of mind, og naka-survive ko. "Trusting" God is so vast that i need to ask God for Him to lead me into trusting Him. 2. all my worries didn't come true. i have fears. sa tinuod lang i was so fearful basig mga butang na gusto nako aboton dili nako makuha. i was so down, i thought whatever we have will be devastated. despite sa mga wrong decisions, God lead us to a path where maskin dili automatic ang tanan, he taught us the process of labor. actually nagsayang-sayang kog worry. nagsayang-sayang ko sa akong kusog for nothing. that's so shameful. i accumulate things more than i ever ask for, contrary sa mga gina worry nako. and to add, i shouldn't be worrying of earthly things, these things should not destroy my identity because who i am is not dependent on where i am now. 3. where we lived now is a proof that God gives and He takes away. what we have is more than what we could ask for. and the challenges nga naa sa among kamot can overwhelm us. 4. i discovered that i have a victimhood-mentality. yep. it's a shame, growing up knowing who God is and having this kind of mentality sucks. na discover lang pa jud nako thru the book i'm reading, and sa instagram posts. i need to change this mentality. very subtle and gives me subliminal messages--i hate this--gives me an unhealthy mindset. maka down og immune system. i need to find ways to STOP this drama. akong first step is to know the ROOT of it, the cause of it. dili pwede magpadayon kog ing-ani. maapektuhan akong future family og akong abilities. i think these mindset nagsugod sa among genes, hereditary. wala ni nikalit og butho sa ako, but because ing-ani sad akong sphere of influence. and i do believe Jesus is able to break these chains. that's why i am able to say na kaya nako ni mawala sa ako because of Jesus. 5. i learn that i shouldn't live for myself only. this world is such a lonely place to live in. kapag daghan kag nadawat and you feel empty inside. i need to search for something greater than my wants--something that can lasts, something that no one can burn down. 6. that intermittent fasting is not enough. i need to work on the foods. i need to have a regular menstruation. i should monitor the foods that i intake. and doing this stuff dili dapat makahatag og anxiety sa ako, rather excitement. 7. one of my friend said " piliun lang nato atong gusto problemahun" . naay mga butang na dili dapat na nato probelamahun, mga butang na gawas sa akong plato. coz mostly ana ko. stick lng dpat ko sa akong makaya-e maximize nako akong ma-maximize. 8. let's try to be more than positive. "positivity" is not sustainable. let's do something that can sustain us. sometimes we trick ourselves na positive ta pero toxic na diay atong gina huna huna. i think mao nani tanan. i'm mentally & emotionally better now than 2021. and i'm going to continue that recovery from the effects of post-pandemic era. pandemic era really hit me, maybe because, i was unconciously not okay mentally. i thank God na nahitabo ni sa ako, kay i'm still young and able to combat these mess. sorry wala kaayo ko naga write na diri. i have a journal, and i write things there. mas easy for me :) i hope we don't dwell on the caves we built. Once again, happy new year folks :) -A

[adelaideslim]

How are you the most like your parent(s)? The most different?

Well, my pa taught me how to yodel and like him, doing so has some peculiar effects, so there’s always that. I’m much shorter than him, though -- must take after my ma in that regard, even though I gotta admit, I don’t know the woman personally. I’d also love to be even half as confident as my pa is. I don’t know where he gets it but it’s like he has an endless supply of the stuff. I know y'all know him for his crimes, but he's a much better man than all that makes him out to be, and I'm so lucky to have him.