#So many whipper snappers

[timbit-robin-art]

Sorry to hear that people have been getting demanding in your inbox. It's always really frustrating when people view art as content. Especially when they ignore how much time and effort goes into making art.

I really love seeing your posts when they come up on my dashboard. Your art style is very cute, and it always brightens my day to see it. It's nice to see you draw characters you love, and I think that affection shows through in your art. It feels like you put a lot of care and attention into your drawings.

I hope people start behaving better now that you've addressed it. And I hope you have a good week! Thank you so much for sharing your art with us!

(Ooh, I’m answering asks out of order again, this is very scary for me.)

The consumerism era of art is very interesting. Anytime I talk about this, I feel like Dean from Iron Giant when he’s yelling about his scrap sculptures;

But anyways. Thank you very much for this ask. I have a hard time with words, but I’ll try to articulate myself as best as I can. It’s regulars in my notes like you that brighten my day. I like when I recognize certain users, even if we’ve never said anything to each other before. It gives me a sense of community, like I’ve found my crowd of people I can hang out with on my silly little corner of the internet.

I like answering asks, especially the ones that I can go on tangents with. I know those aren’t the popular asks in terms of notes, but they’re the ones that inspire other asks that I get to go on more tangents with. Like the Tim and Gambit ask; you guys are currently creating a Batman/X-Men universe in my inbox, and I can’t wait until we get to those asks. It’s like we create things as one big community.

So, yeah. I think I just had to put a reminder for people to behave. Many might’ve been young whipper-snappers who still need time to figure out internet etiquette, and that’s okay. We all have to learn somehow, yeah?

I hope you have a good week, too.

[triviallytrue]

because you play minecraft, you are a baby man, such as many youtubers who have come and gone. the passing of days has been hard on these things. I remember older days, much that was then is now lost. well you know. but some things remain, in faded memories and old archives. remember fucking, diggy diggy hole? god I watched so much yogscast when I was 12.

on the other hand you play chess, which is a game for grown up boys and girls. real men and women play chess. adult men and women with great wisdom. do you know the story of krishna and the king of kerala? well see here's how it goes, one day krishna disguised himself as an old man, and went to the king of kerala who was a great fan of chess. the king believed that no one could beat him. the old man challenged the king to a game, and gave the following condition: if I win, you must give me one grain of rice for the first square of the chess board, two grains for the second square, four grains for the third square, and so on. the king, not believing he could be beaten, agree to the deal. well kṛṣṇa, being a god and all, wiped the floor with his ass I mean really whooped him. spanked that kingus like it was no thing. really fuckin, smacked his ass and shit. well anyway.

so the king has to pay up. but that's like zillions of grains of rice because of 2^x. but lord kṛṣṇa was gracious and said that the king could pay his debt off in increments. and that's why, to this day, they still make daily offerings of rice at some temple I forgot in kerala.

you are wise enough not to fall for this I think. wise because of your old mannish tendency to play chess. I know that the kids love chess these days but like culturally the image of it is stuffy, you know. well anyway.

so this is the paradox of trivlay true, that he is two things at once. he is both young and old, both a minecraft whipper snapper and an agèd chess man. how can we square this?

I propose a simple solution. recent studies like Zigman (2016) and Berkhoff et al. (2018) have suggested that, although most minecraft players are mere whipper snappers, it is also possible for older and wiser people to play this game. they survey data from YouTube, Twitter, and other internet sources to back up this conclusion. similarly, Schmildt & Zhao (2014) argue that young men and women "play chess sometimes" according to observational studies. I propose a new model called the Middle Age Model of Trivial True, which suggests that he is in between a whipper snapper and a old ass man, with grey ass hair and so on, and is in the middle therefore it is possible for him to play both chess and minecraft. but further research will be needed to confirm if this is true.

⠀

[swede1952]

Whipper snapper.

At first, I thought that this is a female ruby throated hummingbird. But after looking closer, I noticed the red under the base of the beak. So, I think that this is a juvenile male ruby throated hummingbird. I had a more interesting photo of this bird that I want to post, but it didn't give a good view of the bird's throat, I'll save it for another time.

"Many Ruby-throated hummingbirds choose to travel across the Gulf of Mexico during their migration. They can make this flight of about 500 miles in less than a day without stopping." - birdfeederhub.com

[smoothedsmoothie]

listen. LISTEN. of course, everybody can enjoy whatever they want to, you know?? I'm not saying that. but it is SO hard to find good fics on Ao3 for the Hobbit! It's all either /reader or /original character or crossovers with like Supernatural or the MCU or something, or filled up with so many tags and fandoms that I can't even make sense of them. I've written a few fics but it's so hard! i just want to read gen fics of our company being happy and healthy and loved, of fili and kili and bilbo teasing thorin and balin and dwalin and throin being old friends and struggling with these young whipper-snappers and of gandalf trying to wrangle them all wondering what he's gotten himself into and bofur keeping their spirits up with song and drink and antics. maybe a little bit of hurt/comfort on the side but everybody still being a little family. is that too much to ask??????

the point of this rant was to ask if you had any fics you could recommend that you particularly enjoy. love your blog by the way

awh i'm really sorry anon but i can't remember if i've read a fic exactly like that before . i think i had one fic i really liked long ago but i can't find it now . but i hope you find what you're looking for ! there are many wonderful fics out there :]]

[swynlake-rp]

Some hunt for glory. Others for gold. But there’s a few who do it just for the thrill of the chase and the call of the wild. Whatever your reasons, that call now brings you to the little town of Swynlake, and its lush forest teeming with rare and magical creatures…

Percival C. McLeach (Percival C. McLeach, The Rescuers Down Under) - The scent of sun-worn leather, the taste of dust caught in the back of your throat, the sting of a desert wind against your brow… you’ve trekked every corner of the Outback in order to find rare creatures for the highest bidder. But that’s not enough. You’re on the hunt for something bigger and better, something so dangerous and legendary that no one will ever underestimate you again…

Dornan Humbert (The Huntsman, Snow White) - You don't ask questions. There is no thrill of the hunt for you. You find your mark, you get your money, then you move on to the next job. It's exhausting, but it pays well. You've made a name for yourself being discreet and taking any job that comes your way, no matter who or what you're hunting. What happens when you stop viewing creatures as targets? When they start to seem...human?

Charles F. Muntz (Charles F. Muntz, Up) - Pfft — those young whipper-snappers forget why you’re a legend! No one has trekked across the globe like you have. No one has found as many exotic animals. And certainly, no one has killed as many. The rumors that you’re retiring are just that: rumors! But do you need to dust off the old rifle and show these young hot shots who’s boss?

Massimo Marcovaldo (Massimo Marcovaldo, Luca) - As much as you miss your Italian fishing village, there's nowhere you'd rather be than wherever your daughter is. As she studies at the university here in Swynlake, you're studying up on your method of supplemental income...will you be the one to catch and dice up the lake monster?

Cruella De Vil (Cruella De Vil, 101 Dalmations) - The curl in your lips, the ice in your stare, all innocent children had better beware... you'll stop at nothing to make your art, even if it means spilling a bit of Magick blood. It's all in the name of fashion, darling.

Benjamin Goode (Huntsman, American Dragon Jake Long) - Your last apprentice was a disappointment. Taking such a softie under your wing was a mistake, one you'll never make again. You've come to Swynlake to make sure that stain on your reputation will be long forgotten.

[chrisodonline]

Kilbride is like, “Listen, you whipper snappers. I’m about to show you my mad skillz.” Um, shoutout to CYO. I don’t know that that gets much mention in things.

Okay, I don’t know why I can’t help but notice that when Callen is interrogating with people, they make them change sitting positions and locations like every single scene. And they’re not usually seats and positions they sit in. That’s also a big thing for this season. Like Densi on stools. 

We want to feature all the seats in the boatshed. That’s 14. I guess.

That guy was super nerdy and high strung. I’m surprised Shyla wasn’t matching his energy. Callen is like, “These two a are a bit much for me. I’m just gonna sit back on the couch.” TOTAL DAD/UNCLE MOVE with his precocious niece.

Aiden remembered something! Sam’s like, “I’m gonna call it in!” Total Dad and Agent. I’m sure he told Aiden, “Your Uncle G would be here, but he’s with your step-siblings and cousin. And your other uncle and aunt are with your other new cousin.”

For an ep that is slow at times, some people are reading their lines super fast.

So many Hannas! I keep getting thrown off when they mention one. “Which one was that?”

Kilbride watching as the other pilot was having issues. 

[thevida]

Chicago Fests: Let's Have Fun

Chicago knows how to throw a party! I've had the pleasure of attending some of the city's best festivals, and I'd love to share a few of my favorites with you.

The Taste of Chicago has been around for ages, and it's still just as delightful as ever. The food is simply divine - I can't get enough of those deep dish pizzas! And what a treat it is to stroll through the crowds and take in all the sights and sounds.

Next on my list is the Chicago Jazz Festival. I'm not one to stay up late and dance the night away, but I do appreciate good music when I hear it. The jazz festival is always such a wonderful time, with top-notch performers and a friendly atmosphere.

For a bit of history and culture, I recommend the Chicago Blues Festival. It's a chance to celebrate this genre that's so important to our city's musical heritage. And let me tell you, those musicians sure know how to put on a show! I may have even tapped my foot a time or two.

One of the more unique festivals I've attended is the Chicago Hot Dog Fest. Who knew there were so many ways to enjoy a hot dog?

There's the Chicago Air and Water Show which is a sight to behold. I remember taking my neices to this festival last year. Their faces lit up with wonder as they watched the planes soaring overhead.

Get out there and experience all that Chicago's festivals have to offer. Whether you're a young whipper-snapper or a seasoned senior, there's something for everyone. So put on your walking shoes, bring a hat and sunscreen, and get ready for some good old-fashioned fun!

[rubykgrant]

(Here’s the beginning of the interview Andrews has with Sarge, so she can share what the Reds and Blues have been up to with the universe)

“Well, I’m not sure where you want to start-”

“I WAS BORN 29 YEARS AGO, I CAME INTO THIS WORLD WEARING RED ARMOR, AND I’LL GO OUT OF THIS WORLD WEARING RED ARMOR!”

“Now, now…” Andrews said, her voice both amused and patient. “I won’t be exposing any secrets you want to keep, you’ll have the final word on what information I share publicly, but between the two of us? Let’s try to keep things simple, and honest. After all, we ARE on a first-name basis!”

The old soldier was quiet a moment. A short moment, but for Sarge, being quiet was about as rare as hen’s teeth.

“Fair enough, Dylan…” he answered at last. “But the name is one of the things we keep quiet about, understand?”

“Absolutely… can I ask one question, though? Just for my own curiosity,” her curiosity often got the best of her, and certainly created problems occasionally… but that was why she was a reporter. Curiosity might have killed the cat, but satisfaction is what kept bringing her back.

“Hmph. Fine. Shoot,”

“I’ve never heard a name like yours before. Just what was the inspiration when it was chosen for you?”

Another quiet moment. Andrews was beginning to think he was simply going to ignore the question, and if that was the case, she would move on rather than press the subject. However-

“When I was born, which was MORE than 29 years ago, I ADMIT IT… m’family didn’t name me right away. Not too many infants survived their first few weeks back then… it was a different world back then, see- you’re too young, you never lived in a war-zone, but that’s what it was like. So, they waited to see if… well, you know how you’re not supposed to name anything, or else you’ll get attached? ‘Folks were worried about getting attached to ME, because maybe I wasn’t even gonna live too long… but a few weeks went by, then a couple months, and I was still breathin’!” he chuckled a bit to himself before continuing.

“I guess I was the only baby that made it, and the group of survivors my family stayed with- they all supported each other. A whole bunch of people took turns watching over this little bundle of joy! Everybody had a different name they liked to call me, and when it was time to give me a REAL name… it all got combined together. One big name, from more than a dozen different people, who all came from different places, and spoke different languages… I was the only baby any of them had, so I suppose they gave me all the names of… their kids who weren’t with them…”

“That’s… oh, Sarge, I don’t know what to say, that’s INCREDIBLE… it might be the sweetest thing’ I’ve ever heard-” it was true, Andrews didn’t know what it was like to be born directly into a war-zone; and at the time the man sitting in front of her was a child, the Earth had been under attack by enemies from outer space… not to mention all the never-ending fights between humans who decided they hated other humans enough to kill each other. No, she hadn’t lived through that, but she had seen documents and footage.

Many towns and cities were destroyed, and groups of people would try to band together; they formed new little communities, some traveling like nomads, others attempting to stay out in one place, but all generally learning to rely on one another for safety and survival. Generations of children were lost during this time… from injury, illness, or lack of food. To think that she was now speaking to somebody who had grown up in that world, protected and nurtured by an extended-family of people who had been brought together by necessity, but stayed together by choice. That choice had, in fact, been to make sure a child could LIVE.

“I know, I know! Tragic and heart-warming… it’s practically Oscar-bait! But remember what we agreed on, not a word to anybody else! Bad enough that whipper-snapper apple-Jax knows…” he grumbled.

“Yes, I understand…” she couldn’t help but get a little choked-up, though.

“And, for the record- I mean, this is OFF the record, make sure to keep it that way! But just so YOU know, I’m not a bit embarrassed about my name! That’s not why I don’t wanna share it… it’s just…” Sarge seemed to struggle to find the words. “The people who named me are gone. All of them. And this wasn’t just my name, it was the name they gave me… someday, I’m probably going to die on a battlefield, being taken out by an enemy, and God-willing, I’ll be wearing my RED ARMOR- but when that happens, whoever kills me… I don’t wanna hear them saying that name. It was good name that good people gave me, so… so…”

“… you don’t want somebody who hates you to use the name that was made by people who loved you,” Andrews finished.

“Hurrrgh- if you WANT to read into it like that and add lots of mushy, emotional subtext, sure!” Sarge made several grunts and groans, crossing his arms across his chest and turning his helmet away to avoid looking at her.

“You are a surprisingly deep and sensitive individual, Sarge…” Andrews marveled.

“NO I AIN’T! YOU TAKE THAT BACK RIGHT NOW! I AM A ONE-DIMENSIONAL CHARACTER, A FLAT STEREO-TYPE OF ALL GRUFF MILITARY MEN, AND DON’T YOU FORGET IT!”

[crash-cinematic-universe]

an interdimensional family road trip

pairing: peter maximoff/reader

summary: after Peter disappears in a cloud of smoke, you, Erik, and Charles go on a fun-filled family road trip across the universe.

warnings: none!

notes: heeeheeehehehehahhahahahahahahahehheheheheheh FINALLY its done. yes its been like five weeks get off my BACK

taglist: @stranger-names @gooseyhouse @parkersdarling @amourtentiaa @toodles-me-doodles @paninipress​

You stood silently before the giant metal contraption that Hank, so intelligently, named “The Gate”. The thick, bulky material that made up your uniform was the only thing grounding you to reality-- although, it was growing more and more uncomfortable by the second. With clammy hands and a shuddering breath, you returned your attention to Charles.

“Are you aware of all the dangers that this trip poses?” He’s panicked and exasperated, but you just brush him off.

“We’ve been over this, Charles,” 

“Yes! We have! And each time I feel as if I’m speaking to a brick wall!” he shouted in frustration. This sort of thing happened almost every day now-- Charles strongly opposed the idea of dimension hopping. “You could end up losing your mutation, or being dematerialized, or get stuck on the other side, or--”

“I get it, Professor. I know about all of the variables and the doubts and the dangers. I know.”

“So why do you still insist on going?” Charles looks like he’s about to strangle you, but still, you keep your resolve. 

“I insist on going for the same reason that you insisted on always having faith in Raven. No matter how many times she betrayed you or left you in the dust, you always went after her. You loved her and you would do anything to make sure she was safe. Now let me do the same.” This seemed to strike a chord with Charles. He reigns himself to silence, biting back what seemed to be another hour’s worth of protest. 

Despite his surrender, this argument certainly isn’t over yet, because you had one last tidbit of information that you forgot to mention.

“Oh, and, uh, Charles?” You take a step closer to The Gate, even though it wasn’t activated. “Erik is coming with me.” It was as if someone had lit a fire inside of Charles’s skull, because his eyes roared to life in a blaze of rage and exhaust. 

“No.” His voice was firm and unyielding, but you were set in your ways. You rolled up your sleeves. 

“Yes.” You decided to take the childish route-- Peter would be very proud. The thought alone spurred you on. “He already agreed to come with. We both have stake in the game, it only makes sense,”

Charles stares at you contemplatively, and for a moment you think you’re in the clear. He turns to face Hank, who was silently standing across the room. They have a wordless exchange and by the end of their interaction Hank is frantically shaking his head. Before you have time to question him, Charles turns back around with a smile on his face.

“Well, if you’re going and Erik is going, then I guess I’m going too.” The smugness on his face is enough to make you laugh out loud.

“I-- what?” 

“I, too, have ‘stake in the game’,” He rolls forward. “I’m coming to oversee you and Erik on your mission,” you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Sure, Charles was once the leader of the X-Men, but that was years ago. 

“Charles, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but do you really think that’s a good idea? I mean, you’re not exactly--”

“The young whipper-snapper I was in my prime?” He retorted. “I can still take care of myself, you know.” Your eyebrows furrowed, but you really didn’t have much more time to argue.

“Less than ten minutes ago you were scolding me for even thinking of dimension hopping, and now you’re 100% on board?” Erik walked into the room wearing his goofy outfit, but you were too preoccupied to make fun of him for it.

“What’s going on?” Erik asks, removing his helmet. Charles’s smugness hasn’t faltered at all, the same cocky attitude he had as a young man was still present in him now. 

“I’m going with you and Y/n on your mission,” You’d never heard Charles sound so… childish. It was refreshing, albeit a little frustrating. “I’m still the boss around here, and you aren’t the boss of me, so you can’t stop me. 

“Alright.” Erik shrugged. “Let’s see if you can keep up, old man,” 

“I may be old, but I’ll be damned if I’m not useful.” you couldn’t believe your ears, but then again, you didn’t have the energy to keep fighting this. 

“Alright. I guess it’s the three of us, then,” you surrendered. “We don’t have any more time to waste. Every second we spend bickering here is a second where Peter is somewhere-- in this universe, or the next-- completely alone.” Hank walks over to the Gate, typing something into a computer that sat beside it. He looks tired and confused-- more tired and confused than usual. 

“Alright, here’s the rundown,” He sighed. “This gate is like a vortex, swallowing up space and time little by little. The frame--” he motioned to the large, arch-like metal frame that sat on the platform. “-- is made of a combination of galactic glaze, adamantium, and vibranium. The glaze should help conduct and contain the energy that will accumulate in the center.”

“... but how does it work?” Erik asks after a moment of silence. Hank looks at him blankly before speaking again.

“Well, it took a bit of testing and mutation exploration-- remind me to thank Jean and Kurt for that one-- but the gist of it is this: the constant rotation of space and energy will cause a rip in the universe. It should be big enough for you to fit through, and small enough to ensure that the entire world doesn’t eat itself.”

“How do you know that you’re sending us to the right place?” 

“That’s the thing,” he anxiously tapped his fingers on his knee. “I calculated the probability that you end up in the right place. You said that Peter vanished and became, what, purple smoke? That usually means a single person took him from one dimension to another-- if it was anything else, you’d see a physical tear open up. That narrows our options down from infinite universes to only about a hundred, since it’s almost impossible for one person to reach through so many different realities. Then, you have to take into account all the dimensions that, if a gateway were to be opened, we’d all die instantly or become nothing more than particles, and finally which of the remaining dimensions we just can’t reach. That brings us to about four possibilities,”

There was a pause, Erik and Charles exchanging a concerned glance. These are nothing more than estimations and calculated guesses, and suddenly the gravity of the situation weighted on the three of you. But you had to do it. For Peter.

“So… there’s a three in four chance that we get sent to…” Charles trails off. 

“The middle of nowhere.” Hank finishes.

“25% chance of success.” Erik chuckles dryly. “I like our odds.” He puts his helmet back on and stands up straighter. 

“I’ve had worse ones,” You nodded. “Alright, Hank, start her up,” You adjusted your uniform, making sure that your shoes are tied. You scanned yourself in the mirror for what might be the last time. If you were going to be ripped in half by the universe, at least you’d look good doing it. 

“After the gate closes, I’m going to wait exactly three days until I open it again. You have to be there when it opens-- I’m not sure how many times we can run this process without causing damage.” The three of you shoot Hank and thumbs up.

“Stand back!” Hank calls before disappearing behind the Gate, typing in codes and flipping switches along the entire arch. Bright purple lights peek through the gaps in the metal, and before long the air around you turns ice cold. Your hair began to float as static electricity filled the room.

In the center of the Gate, a small dark cloud began to form. Tiny bolts of electricity reached toward the metal border, a gust of wind shooting out from all sides of the Gate. The cloud got bigger and bigger, the electricity getting larger and brighter. Then, in a bright flash of light and heat, a rip appeared within the boundaries of the Gate. The wind roared and the electricity made a deafening buzzing noise, but still, the contraption worked. You could see a large, grassy field on the other side of the portal.

You grabbed Erik’s hand and lunged forward into the rip, fingers crossed and heart racing. He followed close behind you, and Charles followed suit. The sound of your blood rushing through your veins was soon drowned out by the sound of wind rushing past your ears. The sun was blocked out by storm clouds that had been rolling in, leavin you, Erik, and Charles in total darkness. Hank stood on the other side of the Gate and waved. 

“See you in three days!”

---

Well, this was proving to be a much more difficult mission than originally anticipated. Y’know, in retrospect, dimension hopping with your boyfriend’s dad and your boyfriend’s dad’s boyfriend in order to retrieve your boyfriend that had been kidnapped by a boyfriend-kidnapping villain might not have been the best idea. Hindsight really is 20/20 after all.

The three of you were standing in the middle of an empty field, the only feature deviating from the grass being a dusty road stretching into the distance. You were quite the sight-- a 6 foot 2 inch tall giant of a man wearing what looks like a halloween costume, a bald man in a wheelchair that looks too advanced to be anything from a regular hospital, and you, wearing your heavy-duty uniform with a huge silver ‘X’ across the front. Anyone passing by would think you were something out of a comic book. 

“So… what now?” Erik asks. 

“Well, judging by the fact that we’re all still alive and intact, I’m assuming things went as planned,” You shielded your eyes from the sun. “However, unless one of you is seeing a silver-haired blur anywhere close, I think we may have landed a little off base.” Charles is staring at the open sky, focusing on the air and the wind. You can only assume he’s trying to use his mutation to get the layout of the land. 

“There’s a town just west of here,” Charles points, “we could probably stop there and figure out where we are. I can’t get a read on Peter, but I can feel that something in this universe is just…” he trails off. Erik nods and steps closer to his companion.

“Off.” He finished. You can feel it, too-- there’s something in the air that feels unbalanced. The uncomfortable weight just fueled your eagerness to find Peter.

“I guess that means we should get going,” you started walking west, listening for the sound of following footsteps. “Time's a wastin’.”

Erik and Charles follow closely behind you, their heavy footsteps crushing the small flowers that grew in the field. You traveled in silence, keeping your guard up and staying alert in case other-worldly beings tried to attack. For the most part, this universe seemed similar to yours; the birds chirped and the sun shined and an occasional breeze would blow Erik’s cape wildly. The fear that Peter had been dragged into a hell dimension filled with suffering and pain was soothed, for now. 

Even if a few of your fears had been assuaged, that doesn’t mean Peter is safe. He could be anywhere, with anyone, and they could be torturing him or enslaving him or keeping him locked away. Dread had settled in your chest; you couldn’t escape the looming thought that you were too late. The mere idea that Peter was gone forever-- or that you’d never get him back-- made you want to throw up. You began to walk faster.

“You walk too slow,” You heard Charles say, presumably to Erik, who’d been pushing his wheelchair. Erik huffed.

“Hey, I’m doing all the work here,” he grunted. “If you’d rather I left you to get tangled in the weeds, I’m more than happy to--”

“Forget it,” You could practically hear Charles rolling his eyes. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I know how cranky you can get,”

“I am not cranky.”

“You absolutely are,” A humorous snort came from Charles. “You’re cranky, like an old man who ran out of tylenol,”

“Those are strong words coming from someone with the mobility of a turtle,” Erik shot back. “I could pick you up and put you on the ground and you’d be helpless,” “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, believe me, I absolutely would.” Erik lowered his voice. “If Y/n wasn’t here with us, I would've left you half a mile back,”

“Well, if you weren’t wearing that stupid helmet I would be scrambled your pretty little head like eggs on a Sunday morning,”

“Guys?” You called. They didn’t seem to hear you.

“Oh, you think my head is pretty? Do you have something to tell me, Charlie?”

“I have so much I’d like to tell you it's unbelievable, the nature of which is inappropriate to repeat in front of my student.

“Guys?”

“Is that so?” Erik and Charles had stopped walking altogether, instead turning to face each other. 

“I don’t need to read your thoughts to know you enjoy my--”

“Guys!” You shouted, snapping them out of their argument. “If you two would please stop fighting like an old married couple, that would be lovely.” Erik huffed and rolled his eyes as Charles scoffed and pressed a hand to his chest. 

“That’s what I thought. Now, Charles, where is this town supposed to be?” You turned to face the road that seemed to never end. “We’ve been walking for almost an hour now and we still seem stranded in the middle of nowhere.”

Charles places a hand to his temple and closes his eyes, exhaling deeply. You and Erik are forced to awkwardly wait for him to finish searching. After about a moment, Charles’s eyes snap open.

“It’s… right here.” He says, a confused look spreading across his face. Erik snorts before moving closer to the empty field in front of you. He’s looking at… something. But you can’t tell what.

“There’s nothing here, Charles,” Erik is walking backwards, stretching his arms out and waving them around. “Nothing but miles of grass. Maybe you really are getting too old for your own g--”

In a fantastical flash of light and static, Erik takes one last step backward and is enveloped by technological flash of light. He seems to have disrupted a sort of force field, a ripple effect stretching out from where he broke the seal. What used to be an empty field was replaced by a large, hexagonal bubble. You lunge forward, shouting out loud and reaching for Erik. Charles follows suit, jerking forward the moment Erik disappears. 

“Oh my god,” You gasped. “Oh my god,”

“Well, I think we might have found the town,” Charles sighs, “Or, actually, the town found us.”

“It has indeed.” You stood up straight, reaching out and touching the force field. A surge of energy shot through your body. “We should go get him, right?”

“Do we have to?” He chuckles.

“Yes, Charles, we do,” With your shoulders back, chin up, and fists clenched, you stared at the force field.

“Fine,” Charles huffs, rolling next to you. “God, first Peter goes missing and now Erik. I might as well keep them on a leash,” With one deep breath and a boost of confidence, you chuckled. 

“Like father, like son.” You nodded at Charles. "See you on the other side,"

--

As it turns out, getting pulled through a static barrier is the fucking worst. You could feel the stinging shocks moving up and down your body, the tight grip of your uniform changing and contorting into something… different. It was almost as if you were being rearranged, your skin crawling and head aching. Intense pressure pushed on every side of you, but at the same time, you were being pulled in every direction at once. Everything was too bright and too loud and you felt like you were everywhere and nowhere at once.

You hit the ground, your head knocking against the concrete. Worry and adrenaline pumps through your veins as you struggle to your feet, desperately trying to remember what led you to this moment. You came up dry.

“You’re safe here,” a voice echoed in your head. “You’re safe, and so are your friends.” 

“Where- where are they?” You ask out loud. It’s only then that you realize you were in the center of an unfamiliar town. “Where am I?”

“You’re in Westview. You’re home.” The voice is soothing and kind, and you allow it to surround you. There’s a part of you that knows you shouldn’t but you’re so tired and you just want to see your friends again. “Go home, Y/n. They’ll be waiting for you there.”

A smile forms on your face. It’s time to go home. You walk down the road, only now registering your change in wardrobe. Your uniform had shifted from thick fabrics and bulky padding to soft cotton and metal jewelry. You were dressed like someone out of the sitcoms your mom watches, the whole ensemble completed with an all-too-familiar silver leather jacket. This specific article of clothing was special to you, but for some odd reason, you didn’t know why. Actually, when you think about it, you can’t remember anything. 

You find yourself standing at the end of a cracked stone walkway. The walkway led to a large house with hanging plants and stained glass windows. The house stuck out more than the others on the block, unique details and unusual decor setting it apart from the regular suburban homes you’d passed on the way here. As you walked up to the door, you noticed that the welcome mat looked as if it had been burned; a thick, dark stripe of what seemed to be cinched fibers straight down the middle. This was home. This was where you were supposed to be. There was a key in your hand, although you’re not sure how it got there. Nevertheless, you unlocked the front door.

“Honey, I’m home!” You announced, although you don’t exactly control your words. The front door opened into the foyer, a large couch and loveseat sitting neatly on the carpet. A spiraling staircase sits in the corner, as well a ramp on the other side of the room. There was a large kitchen that held sliding glass doors out into a huge backyard. The house smells like vanilla, and it’s comfortably warm. 

You can hear the sound of clanging in the kitchen, quickly followed by hurried footsteps. A man with platinum blond hair and a wide smile appears in front of you, and immediately you recognize him. He pulls you into a hug. 

“Y/n, I’m so glad you’re home,” he sighs. “It feels like you’ve been gone for a decade,”

“I’m here now, Pietro,” The name feels wrong coming out of your mouth. You know this man’s name, you’ve said it a billion times by now, so why does it feel wrong? The question is forced from your mind. “Are you baking something?”

“Yeah,” Pietro smiles in an almost bashful manner. “I wanted to surprise you once you got home. Plus, I wanted to take some over to the neighbors.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet, dollface,” You peck him on the cheek. “Tell me about our new neighbors before we head over, I need to have some conversation points to use.”

“Well, they’re moving here from pretty far away. It’s almost like they’re from an entirely different planet,” he laughs. There’s something off about the way he speaks. “They have no kids-- that they know of-- and they’re quite intellectual. I think their names are… Erik and Charles? Yes, I think that’s right. From what I’ve gathered, they’ve been together for about five years now.”

“That’s lovely,” A smile forces its way onto your face. Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong. You have to leave, you have to find-- you have to--

“Nothing is wrong, Y/n,” the voice is back, and more forceful this time. “You’re home. You’re happy.” Dark purple spots cloud your vision, and you feel like you’re floating out of your body. You’re getting further, and further, and further--

There’s a knock at the door, and you land back in your body. Pietro zips across the room and opens the door with a grin. Two men are standing at the door, one of which looks incredibly distressed at the sight of you. You’ve seen them both before, you know that you have, but the memory is too distant and contorted to recognize. However, the shorter of the two looks as if he knows exactly who you are. 

Nevertheless, Pietro smiles as bright as ever. “Hey, you must be Charles and Erik,” he extends his hand, but Erik’s eyes remain locked on Pietro’s face. Hints of sadness lurk beneath his stoic stature. Charles shakes Pietro’s hand, albeit hesitantly. 

“And you are…?” 

“Oh! I’m Pietro, Pietro Maximoff, and this is my partner, Y/n,” You smile at the pair on your doorstep, and finally, they smile back. 

You pause. “It's very nice to meet you both, although you both seem so...”

“Familiar.” Pietro finishes. In that moment, you can feel something settle over the room. The artificial tenseness that had once kept you glued to your spot had vanished, instead being replaced by something more casual. Pietro invites Charles and Erik inside, and they hastily enter, scanning the house like they were detectives working a murder case.  

“You have a lovely home,” Charles says, admiring the photos of you and Pietro hanging on the wall. “These pictures are just darling. Do you remember when they were taken?” Pietro appears behind Charles, taking a long, hard look at the pictures that were displayed.

“Those were taken a while ago, I think,” His eyebrows are furrowed, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head. 

“They look to be pretty recent to me,” Erik chimes in. “In these photos, you look the exact same as you do right now,”

Upon further inspection, you realize that Erik is right. Your hair, your scars, your height and age and body type all look exactly the same as your current self. There is no variety, no images of you or Pietro as babies, in your youth, or even as teenagers. Each one is eerie and unsettling, detailed photographs of you and your partner surrounded by people you recognize but don’t at the same time. Charles steps closer to you.

“Y/n, do you remember what your mother’s name is? Or the name of the high school you went to?” The friendliness is Charles’s eyes had shifted to urgency. He was no longer asking out of pure curiosity, his questions were intended to prove a point. 

“I--” 

“You don’t remember, do you?” Erik closes in. 

“Don’t listen to them,” the voice from before chimes in, rattling your skull. “You’re happy here. They’re invading, they’re going to take it from you-- they’re going to take everything from you!”

Pietro seemed to have disappeared, the two very familiar strangers backing you into a corner. Fear settled over you as Charles grew closer and closer, slowly stretching his arm out to touch you. Everything was become more and more intense-- you can’t let him touch you, you can’t let him get to you, you can’t, you can’t--

“No!” You shout. In a split second, you felt the fear and confusion that had been building in you condense in your chest and explode outward. A rippling blast of green energy fanned out from your torso, launching Erik and Charles across the room. They collide with the opposite wall, picture frames and wall decor shattering as they hit the floor.

Exhaust hits your body like a train. You didn’t know you could do that, but judging by the look on Charles’s face, he did. It’s clear now. Charles has the information necessary to fill in the gaps in your brain, but there’s someone-- or something-- out there that doesn’t want you to know what the fog hides. 

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know I could do that, I-”

“Y/n, you have to listen to me, this isn’t re-” A gust of wind blows knick knacks and papers off the shelves and tables, and in a split second Pietro appears in the doorway. Charles hits the floor once again, his sentence stopping dead in its tracks. Pietro is holding a small business card in his hand, neat writing covering the face of the card. 

“Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters?” he reads. “Who’s Xavier? And what’s so special about these youngsters?”

“I’m Xavier,” Charles sighs, struggling to get off the floor. 

“I thought your name was Charles,” 

“My name is Charles Xavier, and I promise, everything will be explained if you allow me to open your mind and show you what you’re missing.”

“Woah, man,” Pietro raises his hands. “We’re not interested in whatever weirdo psychedelics you’re on,”

“That’s not what he meant,” Erik speaks up. His sudden addition makes Pietro shut up and listen attentively. “We have mutant abilities, much like you two. We’re also under the impression that a mutant is what created this town, maybe even this universe,” he explains.

“How did you get here?” Pietro takes a step closer to you, discreetly grabbing your hand.

“Well, somehow you ended up in this universe,” Charles motions at Pietro. “And Y/n, Erik, and I came here to retrieve you. I wound up next door with Erik, and I managed to wake him up from the spell he seemed to be operating under. I don’t think the creator of this world thought a telepath would end up in their charade.”

“So… Can you wake us up?” You ask. Pietro looks panicked, his grip on your hand tightening to the point where it was almost painful.

“What? No, we can’t let him do that. What if he tries to wipe your memory and force you to become a teacher at his weirdo school?” As you looked into Pietro’s eyes, you saw a light purple cloud swirling behind his eyes. “They’re trying to ruin everything that we worked for. Aren’t you happy here?” His words were eerily similar to the voice in your head, and that only solidified your suspicion. You jerked your hand away from his. 

Yes, you were happy, but you’re not an idiot. You know that there’s something wrong going on in this town-- the lack of memories of your past just solidified that idea. Slowly, your feet carried you away from Peter and closer to the pair across the room. With one last look at the house around you, confidence formed in your chest.

“Charles?” He looks up at you. “Open my mind.”

--

Y’know that feeling when you’re trying to think of a word, and it’s on the tip of your tongue, but you just can’t seem to land on it? You know that the word is swimming around in your brain, but there’s something keeping you from getting it out. Then, in a rush of satisfaction, it finally hits you.

Now, take that feeling, and multiply it by seventeen trillion. That’s how it felt the moment Charles pressed his fingertips to your temples, breaking down the damn that was holding back the wave of memories in your head. To say you felt overwhelmed would be an understatement, the influx of information that poured into your head almost knocking you off your feet. It all comes at once; your mutation activation, arriving at Xavier’s, joining the X-Men-- it’s anything and everything playing behind your eyes at the same time. 

You gasp for air, the grasp you had on reality slowly returning. The once picturesque, comfortable home you’d been standing in had shifted and contorted, its small flaws and irregularities becoming more prominent than ever. Charles and Erik had become clearer; they were no individual, coherent beings instead of fuzzy action-figures shifting into place. 

“Oh my god…” You gaped, scanning the world around you. “Charles, when you said there was a nearby town. I didn’t exactly expect--”

“A magically-curated bubble fueled by grief?” he interjected. “Yeah, neither did I. I’m very sorry about all this,”

“Oh, Charles, don’t worry your bald little head about it,” Erik teases. “We can’t possibly blame you. You’re getting old, your mind just isn’t what it used to be.” For once in your life, you enjoyed hearing them bickering again. 

In the midst of the arguing, you notice Peter awkwardly attempting to sneak out the front door. Erik notices this too, and quickly grabs him by the back of his shirt. He drops Peter on the nearest wooden chair like a cat.

“Oh, we’re not done with you yet,” Fear flashes in his eyes.

“God, Erik, you sound like you’re about to eat him. Charles, just wake him up already so we can go home,” The professor nods before pressing his fingertips to Peter’s head. He lingers.

“There’s…” The thin eyebrows on his forehead furrowed. “There’s something wrong,”

“What?” A sense of light panic rose in your chest. “The thing that’s blocking his mind isn’t based in his brain, it’s… external,” Charles glanced down at Peter before tearing off the necklace he was wearing. This seemed to satisfy him, and within seconds he presses his fingertips to Peter’s skin again. “God, it makes sense that the root of the problem was that horrid necklace. We’re glad to have you back, Peter,”

Peter did not smile. He didn’t react. He just looked up at you, Erik, and Charles with a confused stare. A deadly silence fell over the room, before the silver-haired man before you spoke up.

“Uh… who’s Peter?”

[secret-diary-of-an-fa]

Secret Diary Reviews... Crimes of the Future!

So, David Cronenberg must be old as fuck by now, but he hasn’t missed a beat. I just finished watching Crimes of the Future, his latest weird-ass masterwork and its… subtly brilliant. But before I explain why, I should probably explain who Cronenberg is for the benefit of the wet-behind-the-ears whipper-snappers among you who missed Videodrome and his other early efforts. To whit: Cronenberg is a master of body horror, a very specific subgenre that focuses on all the terrifying ways the human body can be distorted or spontaneously betray the person riding around in it. He’s known for creating horrifying, fleshly realisations of our most grotesquely biological nightmares and parading them on-screen so that we can all be grossed out and frightened by them. His work, while schlocky, is primal and taps into our innate fear of decay and bodily revolt. It’s often melded with the politics of the year or decade in which the film is made, too, so that the body becomes a metaphor for our societal condition. And it does all this without being a load of pretentious wank.

And then, there’s Crimes of the Future, which is set up like a body horror film, but isn’t one. It’s got all the hallmarks of body-horror. People performing surgeries recreationally? Check. Gooey close-ups of human innards being toyed with in ways you’d prefer not to look at? Check. Sexual perversions centred on cutting into the human body being presented in the most disturbingly sensuous way possible? Big fucking check! Actually, I don’t recommend having this film playing on your laptop while other people are in the room trying to do their own thing (like I did, because I’m an idiot) as there are MULTIPLE scenes of naked, blood-covered men and women taking pleasure in having their bodies cut up and rearranged. It’s not the kind of imagery you want to inflict on your loved ones if they happen to walk past or glance screenwards at the wrong moment. But I digress. Crimes of the Future goes out of its way to look like a body horror… and then isn’t.

So what the fuck is it? Well, that’s not an easy question to answer with spoiling anything, but I’ll do my best. Our central character is an artistically-inclined chappie named Tenser whose body keeps growing new, seemingly extraneous organs that he really doesn’t want, referring to them as cancers and the product of a genetic syndrome. Throughout the course of the film, he encounters people who are growing new organs and have actively embraced them; people who have had surgery to change their bodies and both governmental and corporate organisations that want to control or limit the creation of new bodily systems because they believe that humanity should remain unchanged. Ably assisted by his lovely surgical assistant, Caprice (yes, the name struck me as a little on-the-nose as well), Tenser navigates this world of conflicting interests and ultimately… changes his mind.

And that’s it- the crux of the film; the point on which it pivots. It’s not about the horrors of the human body, but about accepting. It’s not about fearing fleshly change but embracing it. All the elements are there for Tenser to become a monster or have to survive one, but he doesn’t. All the elements are there for him and Caprice to end up violently at odds with one another, all their weird fetish-sex turning to hate and violence, but by the end of the movie, it’s obvious that they’re very much in love and who the fuck cares if they use a living Giger-esque nightmare machine to explore each other’s bodies? They’re not hurting anyone… except each other, and they seem pretty into it.

In short, Crimes of the Future is a film about self-acceptance and about learning to live in harmony with one’s own body and its changes. Is it a perfect film? No. A lot of the dialogue is just David Cronenberg announcing to the world ‘OKAY! I HAVE SOME THOUGHTS ABOUT [INSERT SUBJECT HERE]!’ Plus, the film drops a few too many plot-threads that might have been interesting if they’d been allowed to somewhere. But, though imperfect, Crimes of the Future is one of the most scintillating and worthwhile cinematic experiences I’ve had in a while. What’s more, taken in conjunction with the rest of Cronenberg’s oeuvre, it shows a rather heart-warming trajectory. In his early films, Cronenberg was expressing a fear and disgust for the human body, suggesting a deep distrust of his own. But with Crimes of the Future, Cronenberg seems to have finally accepted the divergences and unpredictability of the human body in general and, perhaps, his own in particular. It’s a deeply personal work that represents the end of a long, internal struggle for the director. I recommend it.

[phoenixyfriend]

Madara and Obito... In SPACE

So the preface to this mess: I don’t know jackshit about Star Wars, so a lot of this went through friends who do know Star Wars (the primary of which does not have a tumblr).

(I have watched Episodes 7&8, and Rogue One. Of the first six movies, I remember watching maybe an hour total. I have not seen more than snatches of Clone Wars. Beyond that, nothing but fic.)

Anyway! Let’s go:

As y’all probably know by now, my favorite form of crossover is what I call “intrusive,” so... I'm enjoying the mental concept of "dump Madara on Coruscant and watch him go." (Prequels, probably.)

Does Madara know what's going on? No. Can he understand a word that's being said? No! Is he going to fight the first person to aim a weapon at him, and every person after that? Yes.

Is Madara fighting fit?

Nnnnnnnnnnnnnno, not really, he’s old as balls. This is "I was on cave life support but I'm getting back up to kick ass out of pure spite" Madara.

[Image description: A screenshot of a panel of the Naruto Manga. Uchiha Madara is old and visibly ‘decrepit,’ with spiky white hair and an amorphous black robe. He is sitting on a pale throne, and there is a scythe visible to the side. He has a speech bubble saying “I am... a ghost of the Uchiha.” End Description]

Two wrinkly old guys, staring each other down: There ain't enough room in this universe for the two of us. [Palpatine and Madara start fighting to the death]

Congrats, Palpatine! Your ass is getting kicked by a geriatric malcontent who doesn't speak any language you've ever heard or feel like literally anything in the Force. You may have Sith lightning, but do you have decades of frontline experiences and over half a century of cave-dwelling bitterness?

Both of them, simultaneously, in completely different languages: Get off my lawn, whipper-snapper.

Palpatine: Behold my mastery of the Dark Side, Foolish old man! Palpatine: [shoots lightning] Madara: Oh hey, you're like the seventeenth most dangerous person who can shoot lightning I've fought. Telekinesis? Fought that. Combat precognition? Fought that, have that, and let me tell you hwat, it doesn't help if you're opponent is just that much faster than you.

Now, I’ll take a step back and acknowledge that several people advised me that Palpatine would stand a chance against Madara, likely even win, if Madara just got hacked off of his life support and is down to one eye.

But. I want a shitpost, and also to clown on Palpatine, so Madara wins easily.

Madara also deserves to be clowned on, but the entire situation is clowning on him because he’s not in his cave anymore, and he really wants to go back to his Gedou Mazou statue.

Maybe Madara and Palpatine go Old Man Fight and then Obito just pulls a Ninja Move and kills Palpatine that way. Madara was ranting and Obito just. Ninjas behind Palpatine and slits his throat like “okay, you’re obviously evil so like... bye.”

(I just love causing "Wait what" reactions in characters that are used to having total control. Like. Have you read "Unexpected Guests"? The Bleach fic? Everything that happens in Hueco Mundo and after. That energy. I want that energy.)

Madara waves his scythe around like a cane. Obito just trails after like “Gramps, no” because it’s still pre-Sanbi, so he’s Mostly Innocent (you know, on the scale of how fucked up Obito is as a person), and just wants Madara to like. Stop.

Palpatine dies but nobody's sure what to charge Madara with since he did kind of expose a Sith? And Palpatine attacked first for [handwave] reasons?

Jedi: Well sir, in lieu of charging you with assassination of the emperor, we have decided to ask you politely to return to the elderly person's retirement home from whence you came. Please leave immediately. You are frightening the senate. Madara: [incomprehensible raving] Jedi: Yes yes, very interesting. Jedi, whispering: Does anyone know his caretaker???

Obito looks increasingly put-upon as events progress. You need Obito there to... well, not translate. Nobody can translate. But to at least poke Madara into being Slightly Less Homicidal.

Anakin seems sad about his friend dying and being evil so Obito challenges him to a spar. Madara and Obito get pulled into the Jedi Temple to help train Padawans? My first thought was "they wouldn't trust someone so obviously Weird, Crazy, and Incomprehensible around the younglings" and my second thought was "well they let Yoda do it and he's all those things so I mean? YEAH."

What if they put Madara in the bacta tank and he just freshened up like a daisy because of hand-wave Hashirama cell reasons (Blame Sir Tiddyface).

From “Decrepit and Reliant on Cave Tube Life Support” to “Will Call Down Meteors With Ease”

How many eyes does he have? Whatever’s funniest. Let’s say one Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan and one Rinnegan, for maximum chaos.

Would "half my body is missing" Obito freak out if Bacta regrew his eye? Can bacta regrow something like that? When characters lose limbs they usually just get cybernetic replacements, but  the person I spoke with said that apparently they saw somewhere that that kind of thing can grow back it just takes a really long time.

I want to imagine bacta would help Obito with the Zetsu integration.

Anyway! Yes. Have Madara help train people despite being... Madara about it. You know... kind of a dick.

(I’d put example gifs but I don’t feel up to it. Y’all know what Madara’s “weakness disgusts me” ass is like.)

Obito had to get his "these fools could never make me sweat" sass from somewhere, after all.

Do you think Obito could fight the baby Jedi that are around his age while recovering? I have no idea what their skill level is at fourteen, but I want to imagine Obito sparring the Padawans.

Obito + Zetsu + Bacta = he still needs physical therapy but he can spar again!

Madara is delighted to have a baby ninja to bully. He's too old to not bully baby ninjas, and Obito is the only baby ninja. TBH Madara just makes Obito his assistant teacher.

Obito: What are we even doing here and how do we get home? Madara: I'm still working on that. Obito: But I want to go home and see Rin and Kakashi! Madara, who was like two days away from triggering the Sanbi plan: I'm working on it.

Something sticking in my mind rn is Ahsoka&Obito, since Obito is still Baby.

I think Obito would be excited to have someone his age that thought he was Cool and Talented for being able to do Chakra Things instead of writing him off as "the dead-last." Like, Rin is friends with him, but she doesn't look up to him as someone more/differently talented.  He'd be excited to get to be "The Mysterious Cool Big Bro" for once.

I feel I also just like the idea of Anakin not knowing what to do with someone Several Years Younger that is also. Ninja Skill.

Miscellaneous thoughts:

Madara is a grouchy old man even AFTER he gets effectively de-aged via bacta dunk, for the record. He's back in his prime and the Jedi have no idea how. They're all concerned about tiddyface*. (When are people not concerned about Sir Tiddyface, really.) The mokuton is a problem.

*Sir Tiddyface is that random Hashirama face that Madara had growing out of his pecs for like... convoluted bullshit reasons.

(Madara doesn't have mokuton, but he has enough Hashirama cells that it interacted very, VERY weirdly with the bacta.)

Obito spends the intervening weeks trying to learn the local language. He's very eager. Not particularly fast. Still doing it though!

I want Obito juggling kunai as physical therapy while he's waiting for Mads to get out of the bacta tank and just gains himself the adoration of a gaggle of small baby Jedi children.

Madara comes out of the bacta tank looking like he did in his prime (which I mentioned earlier but whatever), and it absolutely incites a yelling match of an argument that draws way too much attention.

Someone tries to teach Obito how to access the Force, just to see what happens. He almost turns into a statue because the philosophy behind Force meditation is only a few steps away from Sage Mode Meditation.

Anyway, Madara smacks him with a stick like Fukasaku to make sure Obito doesn't turn into stone.

Madara grumps about the lack of paper and brushes and ink. Bitches about it until someone hits up an antique store or something to get them for him. The day before he and Obito are dispatched on a mission with someone, probably Anakin for plot reasons, Madara very publicly seals things into a scroll and then tells them that no, they can't learn it, because the Force isn't chakra so fuuinjutsu won't work for them, so There.

Obito practices some Teen Rebellion (tm) and like, tries to teach the Padawan friends he's made how to do Chakra Things... but he's so bad at explaining things that nobody can get it to work even if it were possible.

In Obito's defense, language barriers. Not in Obito's defense, he's just really bad at words sometimes.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Mission of Mercy: Thirty-Two

Bucky opened your car door and bowed slightly, teasing, “We’re gonna be late to the ball, Cinderella.”

You quirked an eyebrow but took the hand up he offered to get into the truck, “What ball?”

“You’ll see,” he said, grinning. He hoped that you liked what he had planned. He really did. 

‘Bucky,” you say, biting your lip.

“I promise, doll,” he said quietly, stepping up and kissing you softly, taking to opportunity to buckle your seat belt. “No cemeteries. Just all the tricks this old dog can remember.”

“Just your old tricks?” you ask, smiling a little. 

“Maybe some new ones,” he said winking, kissing you again. He hopped down and shut the door carefully taking a deep breath as he walked around the truck. It was going to be a bit of a drive but… As soon as he saw the place, he knew there was no better place to take you. He hadn’t even known places like this existed but… he could see you there. And he wanted to take you there. Somewhere you could feel… free. Without the constant bombsat of feelings and needs and wants tugging your attention this way and that. You’d described it to him once like being a teacher in a classroom full of really rowdy kids. Everyone needs or wants something but some people’s needs and wants are more urgent. Kid A broke his pencil but kid B has just stapled his homework to his forehead somehow. So how would you prioritize them? It’s a constant triage, trying to decide what to ignore and what to act on. 

To Bucky it just sounded like a maddening tangle. And even just thinking about it for too long made his head ache and his eyes water. It gave him a new appreciation for your need for silence.

When you claimed his hand, Bucky laced his fingers through yours and skimmed a kiss across your knuckles. “Where are we going?” you ask quietly, staring out the window absently. You’re thinking, he knows. Wandering down little rabbit holes in your head. 

“You and I,” he said, “Are going to go spend the night somewhere… Fun.”

“That was a suspicious pause,” you say suspiciously. 

Bucky grinned and glanced at you, hesitant to take his eyes off the road too long. “Well. I know it’ll be fun for me,” he teased, “Spoiling you within an inch of your life and making you deal with the fact that I love you for a solid 36 hours.”

“Buck-”

“Nope,” he teased, kissing your knuckles again, “I promise. It’s just going to be you and me and as many of your favorite things as I could cram into an overnight trip.”

“I didn’t pack a bag.”

“I packed it,” he said grinning, “I didn’t want to give you time to talk me out of it.”

You give him a look over the tops of your sunglasses and he mock scowls at you, “Listen, whipper snapper,” he scolds. “You’re going to have a good time… I hope. I just wanted you to get out of the tower for a while. You’ve been tired, baby. Tired and sad and I know you’ve not been eating because your stomach is always in knots. Stuff’s been hard. And you deserve a break. And I miss my girl.”

He squeezes your hand and smiles, “Just… relax? Let me do this. I haven’t gotten to do this kind of stuff for anyone before. At least not without us having to sign the hotel register pretending to be married.” He gives you a suggestive look and you can’t help it, you giggle. 

“Who’d I have to kill in a past life to get this lucky, huh?”

Bucky grinned so broadly his molars gleamed, “Well. I killed Hitler so-”

“You can’t remember that Sam and I had lunch plans but you remember that?”

“One time,” he protests but shuts his mouth with a soft snap when you giggle. It was good hearing that sound. It had been a little too scarce in the past couple of weeks. 

________

He turned down the road, thankful that he’d had to learn to read maps and memorize directions. Sure. The address wasn’t significant to you, but. He wanted you to be surprised. And he was enjoying deflecting your attempts to get information. You were excited. You sparkled with optimism and curiosity. You weren’t just going through the motions for him and he knew it. He could feel it. 

“Bucky, what-” 

He paused at the top of the drive and let you just take it in for a moment. It was a cottage, covered in ivy with a wrought iron fence. And magnolia trees shed petals that drifted lazily on the breeze. Willow trees bent like gnarled old women providing pools of shade. And beyond that, in the yard there was a hot tub and a fire pit. He looked at you and grinned. You looked stunned.

“How?”

“Google,” he said, kissing the hand he was holding. “And some money.”

“Bucky-”

“Before you start fussing at me about it being too much, just know. This is where we’re staying… but it isn’t it.”

“It’s so much,” you murmur. You aren’t sure what to say. Or how to act. After a lifetime of Birthdays that were mostly crying over photo albums and maybe some cake and a couple presents this… This is a lot. 

“I know,” he murmurs, “But- I’ve got a lot of birthdays to make up for… and a shit load of back pay burning a hole in my pocket.”

“But-” You can feel the backs of your eyes sting and he tilts your chin up gently.

“No pressure,” he reminds, wiping tears away and kissing the tip of your nose. “It’s just going to be us, hanging out here.”

“Okay,” you murmur. 

“Good girl,” he says softly, stealing a kiss and jumping out of the truck to open your door. 

“It’s so pretty,” you breathe, leaning against him as he walks you up the cobblestone path. 

Bucky doesn’t answer but he kisses your head as he walks you inside. It is intensely satisfying to see you so stunned. And he’s more than a little proud of himself for pulling this off and keeping the secret from you to pull it off. 

He follows you from room to room watching you be in something close to awe at the four-poster bed, the hot tub, and the champagne. 

“You thought of everything didn’t you?” you ask, standing on your toes to kiss his cheek as he opened a bottle of champagne. 

“I might have snooped just a little,” he admitted, “And Nat helped me fill in some blanks.”

“What’d you snoop in?” you ask, more curious than angry.

“Your phone when you were asleep,” he said grinning, “And I asked Sam if you’d ever told him any ideal date kind of things… He told me to ask Nat. But I tried Sam first because he’s known you longer.”

You nod and take the glass of champagne he offered you and plucked a chocolate-covered strawberry off the waiting plate. “Sneaky,” you scold. 

“Oh, baby. You don’t even know.” He chuckled and leaned down to kiss you, savoring the sweetness on your lips. 

“What-”

He held up a finger and pressed it to your lips, “Before you have time to work up a good worry, can I give you a present?”

“I-”

“Good,” and before you have time to think he steals a kiss and disappears through a door. You can hear him, talking softly and the rustle of cardboard and tissue. It was curious. New. Bucky didn’t usually talk to himself… It was a bad habit for someone who needed to be stealthy. 

You take a seat and take a nervous sip of your champagne taking a deep breath. You know Bucky means well. He crafted all of this just for you. To make sure you had a good day. But you can’t stop the gnawing feeling in your stomach. It was alien territory. 

“Doll?” Bucky said, holding a box. 

And you smile, snapping back to this instant like a rubber band. 

Bucky smiles a little. You look good in your sundress, lounging on the plush sofa and sipping a drink. It makes him feel warm all over. He wants this life for you. To come home from work and see you waiting for him. And he crosses the floor, putting the box in your lap. 

“I know I probably should have asked first but,” he stole a soft kiss as he knelt at your feet, “I saw this and… It was perfect.”

He watches you tilt your head and nudges you, “Open it,” he coaxes, “I’m not gonna tell you!”

You tug the ribbon on the box carefully and Bucky holds his breath. He really hopes this was the right choice. 

And the moment you set the lid aside and make a noise. The softest little noise. Not quite a coo and not quite a gasp, his heart does a backflip as you take the Aussie Shepherd puppy out of the box. 

 This time when you start to cry, he doesn’t have to wonder if it’s a good thing or a bad thing as you snuggle the ball of fluff that Bucky had fallen in love with the second she attacked his shoelaces.

[i-growl-growl-growl]

How Ateez would be as Yanderes?

Hongjoong Version

sadistic, possessive, clingy, delusional, manipulative

Cold, cruel, calculative and crude don’t even begin to describe the dark soul of this demon in disguise notoriously known as Hongjoong. Sweet to look at but poisonous to taste, this yandere seems to be one of those typical ‘cowboy casanovas’ that you hear about in songs that one needs to stay away from or face being torn apart and broken down by while in his hands.... except he’s 1000x worse than that when he really has his eyes set on someone special. Hongjoong is definitely a ride or die man stuck in his sucker-punching devilish ways with a hard cracking personality and intricately delectable mindset whose intelligence spins the ever evolving, tough to escape web that traps any and everyone who captures his attention. He knows what he wants and what he wants he gets.

This man is easy to spot and hard to forget once one has laid eyes on him even if only once. He stands out with his unusually stylish black noir fashion sense that cops him out as an elegant, mysterious, intelligent, and unattainable being. Not only does his sense of fashion, and general attractiveness, catch everyone’s attention but also his way of speech. Like a fine wine with a sweet taste and smoothness that eases the flow of the liquid as it moves its way down your throat, Hongjoongs way with words, one similar to that of a high class, vendetta seeking prince, can draw anyone into deep conversations with him that always leave those in his presence seeking more from him once time has deemed that his conversations must end. 

No one knows his true personality or profession but many have heard rumors, some of which fit his exotically dark but intriguing aura. A heartless mobster, an assassin or a detective are just a few only the list of many that those who wish to know more about him suggest he falls under when it comes to debating his true personality and work life.                  Only his darling will ever truly know who Hongjoong is as a person and what they come to learn and live with is far worse than any assumptions that other have of him. In a sense he is all of the above but he directs those traits and lifestyles towards taking and taming his ‘sweet one’.

Be careful if you find yourself beholding the presence of this demon in an angel’s vessel for, if you forgo any warning to stay away, you shall find yourself in a place of entrapment, servitude, and suffering like no other by the hands of Hongjoong who, once he has you fully in his grasps, will never et you escape.

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The dining guests set to partake in tonight's meeting are quite the perplexing bunch. There are a few usuals that Hongjoong easily spots from the corners of his eyes as the hoard of diners arrive on a timely manner. All dressed to the utmost degree, one looking in from the outside would deem all participants to be snobbish aristocrats with money on their mind and self-indulgence familiar to their names. For most this is true as Hongjoong is unfortunately aware but even he himself falls within that category of vile beings to a certain degree so he keeps his ‘whipper snapper’, silver tongue to his lonesome self as his judgemental eyes dart to every being who struts into the room while wearing diamond studded heels or golden brooch encrusted vests.

None of these guests catch his fancy. Hongjoong isn’t here just for the meeting, no, tonight he wishes to set out on indulging his desires to find a new toy to play with, one whose screams wouldn’t be matched and whose blood would flow with a glint of ruby red among the dark otherwise maroon shade. Hongjoong has had many a victim before but none have pleased him as his mind wishes them to so, what was he to do but to be rid of them and search for another?

Familiar with the ways that the selfish rich crumble so easily, Hongjoong easily crossed off the vast majority of those who’ve presented themselves for the meeting tonight. His last victim was the daughter of one particular participant whose name he has never cared to remember, the man sitting kitty-corner from him. Hongjoong was least pleased with his daughter and her constant begging, her cries had been deemed inharmonious and her croaking voice annoyed him to the very core. her beauty was what had drawn her to him as a victim but nothing else of her fit his high standards once he had her to himself. She had only lasted a week before Hongjoong could no longer handle the sight or sound of her, so he did as he usually does and filled her grave as she remained screaming within it until fully covered and patted down.

Although left displeased with his recent victim, Hongjoong could, however, admit that he was basking in the stressed aura of her father who sat near him. Hongjoong enjoyed raking his eyes over the man who could barely hide his distraught form while in the presence of other elites. Hongjoong enjoyed the knowledge that, although here for an official meeting, the man’s mind was otherwise elsewhere, wondering where his precious daughter had gone to and what has become of her..................................................

If it wasn’t for a new figure making their way into the dining room catching his attention then Hongjoong probably would’ve spent the night delving in the pleasure of the man’s suffering.                   Hongjoong’s eyes fell upon someone who was unlike the rest that currently stood or sat around the room chatting with those nearby. The new figure was grossly unlike the rest with their middle-class status evident in their poorly kept, wrinkled up clothes. The way this new figure stood stiff and kept their eyes to the floor except to find a free chair for them to sit in at the table and the way that they seemed to not know anyone else within the room was evidence enough that they simply didn’t belong here compared to the rest. Hongjoong knew instantly from the sight of them and the presence of their weak aura that they were someone to keep in mind and get to know. He hadn’t even met them yet and he could already tell that they had exactly what he was looking for in regards to what he desired from his next victim. Hongjoong knew that those of the lower class were far stronger and fiercely willed than those of the elite class so you’d put up a fight that Hongjoong craves and braking you down would be a joyous feat to venture towards.

Leaving his typical spot at the table to sit across from you, Hongjoong pulled out the charming gentleman within him that always suckers people into falling for his traps. With hypnotizing eyes staring deep into your soul, it was quick to catch your attention. Without even a single word spoken, he raises his glass, you doing the same without realization. “What a pleasure to behold the finesse of such a beautiful person such as yourself. Please do tell me darling, what is your name? I would like to know it so that I may address you properly during our conversations tonight and within the future.”

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I hate the middle-end of the scenario section of this profile but I felt like I should get this done since it’s been in drafts for far too long.

I hope you enjoyed.

~Savie

[castletownranger]

Hey Brother

@ineed-moresleep had a birthday and I saw it as an opportunity to show my son some love, sue me 

____________________

The fire was dwindling. Time hadn’t even expected it to burn for as long as it had, to be honest. Snow and ice whipped through the air outside the mouth of the cave. Frigid wind swirled inside, every now and then. The old hero knew the storm had been approaching hours ago after seeing the clouds tower in the distance. Storms don’t take very long to form, he knew, but they could rage for days on end.  

Using his hands instead of a fire-stick, Time tried to rekindle the blaze. He and his boys had gathered up as much firewood as they could before it all got soaked by the snowfall, but they would soon be out. He looked to the pile of wood next to the fire. Five logs left. 

“Time?” Warriors said softly, pulling him from his thoughts. 

“Hm?” Time looked up to see the captain’s face, appearing sunken in the light of the dying fire. The orange flicker accented the creases on his face; between his eyebrows, around his mouth. Under his eyes. 

“Do we have any extra blankets?” Warriors asked, keeping his tone hushed. “Wind is shivering awful bad.” 

Time looked down. Nestled into Warriors’ side, with a wool blanket and the captain’s blue scarf wrapped around him, was Wind. The young hero’s chest rose and fell with the weight of a deep sleep, but his shoulders shook almost constantly. Carefully, Warriors adjusted his scarf so it would drape over more of the small hero’s body. 

A memory tugged at the back of Time’s mind. 

He stood up. “Let me see what I can find.” 

Walking carefully so as to not stir the other sleeping heroes, Time made his way to the back of the cave where Epona rest. Most of the group’s equipment stayed with her, and Time searched through various sacks and backpacks hoping to find anything close to a spare blanket. Just when he was about to deliver the bad news to Warriors, he found something. It wasn’t a blanket per se, but it would work. An orange blade that emanated heat. One of Wild’s. 

Time carried it back over to Warriors and asked for Wind’s sheath. “I don’t want it to accidentally cut him while he sleeps.” 

Warriors reached behind Wind. The sheath didn’t fit the orange blade exactly, but it would do. Time placed the warm metal in front of the small hero, and Wind reached for it sleepily but immediately. 

The old hero sat back down in his spot near the fire. “There. That should keep him warm for the rest of the night.” 

“Thank you,” Warriors said. He kept one hand on his scarf to make sure it stayed secure over Wind, and used his other hand gently comb Wind’s hair.  

Time watched quietly for a few moments. Warriors was a fierce, some might even say ruthless, fighter. But these moments of gentleness were ones that Time knew well. He remembered what it was like to curl up in Warriors’ lap after a long day on the battlefield; how the captain would drape his scarf over Time’s small shoulders, much like he had done for Wind, and place a hand in his hair. The arm he kept secured around Time as he fell asleep gave him a sense of security he hadn’t felt in ages. 

Wind was the safest person in the cave tonight. Even once Warriors fell asleep, nothing would stop him from keeping the person next to him well protected. 

Time was pulled out of his thoughts again when Warriors chuckled. “He’s gonna be surprised to wake up and realize he’s cuddling a sword.” 

“I’m sure this isn’t the first time he’s slept with a weapon at his side,” Time said. The words came out harsher than he meant them, but Warriors couldn’t tell him he was wrong. Time would guess that all the heroes were accustomed to keeping a blade close, just in case. He remembered how Warriors often would. Knew how he often still did. 

“He’s still too young for that, though” Warriors said, his voice taking on a sadder tone. 

Time looked up to see the captain’s face had fallen once again. His usually sharp eyes were slightly unfocused, and stared past Wind even as he looked down at him. No doubt staring into other things. 

“I’m guessing a lot of us were too young for…that.” Warriors continued. “But Wind, he’s…He should have gotten to stay a kid for longer.” 

A fist tightened around Time’s heart. He also wished that Wind could have had his childhood. Time wished that he could have had his own childhood.

No kid should have to grow up as fast as the gods made them. 

“I’m sure it helps, having someone like you around,” Time ventured. “He might not have his childhood, but I’m sure you at least give him a sense of family.” 

A faint smile ghosted Warriors’ face. “He reminds me of someone, you know.” 

Time’s heart tightened again. But he kept his voice steady. “Oh?” 

“During my adventure,” Warriors explained, “I met so many people. Each of them brought something new to the battlefield, something unique that helped us win the war. Well, most of them were on the Hyrulean side. Some of them weren’t. But anyway, there was this one young boy who Wind reminds me a lot of. Blonde hair that was always a mess. Eyes that could tell a thousand stories without the kid uttering even a single word. He was so, so small, but he fought with more courage than many of the soldiers I came to know.” 

Time smiled. Fighting alongside Warriors’ army had proven to be a challenge, in a different way than stopping the moon from destroying an entire world was, but he remembered what it was like to see Warriors for the first time. A whirlwind across the battlefield, the image of grace and focus that Time always thought real knights would be.  

“Who was the boy?” Time dared to ask.  

“I don’t truly know his story,” Warriors said. “But I’m willing to bet that he was to young when whatever happened to him happened too.” 

I was. Time felt tears pricking his eyes so he turned his gaze back towards the fire for a moment. The flames pulsed and danced even as they were in the process of dying. 

“I tried to take care of him the best I could,” Warriors continued. “Never gave me any indication he had parents, or a family, so I kept an eye on him. I never imagined he had an easy life, but he always seemed to be in high spirits. There was a cheerfulness about him that nothing could crush.” 

“He does sound a lot like Wind.” 

Warriors laughed. “He would always do this thing right before a battle—it was like his signature look—he would place one hand on his sword and the other hand on his hip and yell ‘I got this!’ before running straight into a horde of enemies. The kid had some serious nerve.” 

And the power of a terrible, wrathful god flowing through me. Time held back a shudder at the thought of Warriors seeing him channel the Fierce Deity’s power. He wasn’t sure how he was to tell the heroes about that, or if he even wanted them to know at all. “What happened to the boy?” Time found himself asking. 

“You mean in terms of where did he go? He’s not dead, if that’s what you’re worried about. At least, the last time I saw him he wasn’t dead.” 

“Do you know where he ended up?” 

Warriors shook his head. “The little scamp was always running off to places and showing up in a completely new place later. A tricky whipper-snapper, that one. One day he just…decided he didn’t want to come back, I suppose. I’m not sure where he ended up.” 

“Well…I’m sure he turned out fine,” Time said, looking back up at the captain. He knew he had to choose his words carefully. “And I’m sure he still cares a lot about you, too. You probably helped him greatly without even knowing it.”    

Warriors’ sad expression bloomed into another small smile. “I hope so. That kid was the first baby brother I ever had.” 

“I’m sure that—”

Time was cut off by a thud from outside. The older hero and the captain were on their feet in a second. Time turned to Warriors with a finger to his lips. “Stay here. Watch over the others.” 

“And let you go alone? Are you kidding me?” 

Confidently, deliberately, Time shifted into a stance he hadn’t taken in a while but one that was still familiar to his body all the same. He reached one hand behind him for his sword. Placed the other firmly on his hip. And smiled at Warriors. “I got this.” 

Time turned just as Warriors’ eyes were starting to widen. 

The cold was instant the moment he stepped outside the cave. It cut through his armor, threatening to lock his bones into place should he stop moving for even a moment. Visibility wasn’t great either; the wind kicked up snow and made the air around him and endless sea of gray. After trudging around for a few moments, he saw that nothing was close to the mouth of the cave where his boys rested. After a few more moments, all he found was a fallen branch from a nearby tree. 

Seeing no other tracks besides his own, and satisfied that the monster of a storm had merely claimed a tree limb as one of its victims, Time stumbled back towards the cave. He took off his armor once he was inside, needing to get out of the cold metal, and just barely after he had placed the freezing plates near the fire, Time felt two strong arms wrap around him. Warriors buried his face in the crook of Time’s neck. 

It was silent for a few moments, but Time recalled in moments away from the battlefields how Warriors had trained himself to cry silently. The captain’s tears spilled onto Time’s shoulder, and Time brought a hand up to rub his back. “Hey, big brother.” 

Warriors’ lip quivered when he pulled away from Time. He placed his hands on either side of Time’s face and looked him over, eyes flickering with the same warmth of the fire behind them. “Hey, baby brother.” Fresh tears spilled from Warriors’ eyes as he spoke. “You weren’t supposed to grow up before I did.” 

Time rest his head against Warriors’ shoulder again. “Believe me, I didn’t want to.” It was here that he finally let his own tears fall. Time was vaguely aware of himself repeating over and over I didn’t want to I didn’t want to I didn’t want to, and Warriors whispering that it was okay, that he was safe, that he would make sure he stayed safe now that they were together again. Memories of his long years flooded Time’s mind; waking up as a child in an adult’s body, never quite feeling the age his physical self reflected, the moon leering down at him, a ferocious deity taking control of his limbs, the soldiers who died next to him and Warriors on the battlefield. It felt like too much to be stored in one person. 

Warriors wept his own silent tears again as Time allowed himself to cry into his shoulder. After a few moments, Warriors adjusted them so they were sitting side by side, draping the scarf over Time’s shoulders. 

“I’d love to hear the boy’s true story, if you’re ready.”

[stirringwinds]

For some reason, to me, the way I imagine Alfred’s thought process for having France as his father/step-father (whatever he is) is so funny to me. Because I feel like Alfred was most definitely like, “The man that Lord Father hates more than me is helping me? I guess he’s my dad now.” Like i don’t know but this is just how I see it. Also I love your blog so much!

thank you for your kind words and this ask! my own intepretation is that alfred doesn’t quite see francis as a stepfather…but he is sort of like alfred’s fashionable uncle in the 1770s, lol. not just because alfred understands him as matthew’s father. he’s introducing alfred to the heights of european fashion, food and drink—but also to the art of schmoozing, glad-handing and two-facedness essential to international relations. alfred, in the beginning, is pretty naive about all of this. not because he is unintelligent—but he really is inexperienced; arthur is the one who managed all of that for him before.

so, francis is one of the people through which alfred gets a much better idea about the fluidity of the Old World empires and all their backstabbing, scheming and realpolitik. some of that is through francis quite readily expounding on his centuries-old relationship with arthur (’my most dear enemy.’), but the rest of it is very much alfred observing francis himself when he finally goes to europe (to of course, take advantage of the many foes his father has accumulated). on francis’ part, he might have seen it as being a mentor to a younger nation—with the bonus of greatly upsetting and enraging arthur. but as so many things go; francis didn’t fully perceive the repercussions of this and how he’d end up a) in debt and b) influenced by this young whipper snapper’s radicalism and idealism. interesting times, indeed. 

[whippersnapperskid-blog]

5 Major Benefits of Buying Second Hand Kid's Clothes

There are umpteenth benefits of buying clothes and other items for your kids from a thrift store. Besides saving you a great deal of money, thrift stores also give you the chance to serve the local economy and protect the environment. If you are looking for gently used baby clothes in Sonoma County, the best you can do is to buy from Whipper Snappers. It is here that you will find a wide variety of dresses for babies and kids. You can also buy kids accessories and toys, all of them in pristine condition. 

 Here are some benefits of buying second-hand clothes from one of the reputed thrift stores in Sonoma County. '

1.Buying second-hand is cost-effective: Undoubtedly, you will always want to buy good quality clothes for your kids. But this will also mean spending much money. When budgeting the expenses and looking for a more efficient way to purchase items for your kids, thrift stores are the best. 

 2.Access to affordable high-end items: Thrift stores are inclusive, and to be frank, you will find all the high-end brands at a discounted price. All the things on offer are of excellent quality, and you are free to buy as many as you want for your little ones.

 3.The best place to buy kid's clothes: There is no point in spending money on kid's clothes when you know very well they will outgrow them in a couple of months or years. Buying second is far more economical and beneficial for the environment as well. 

 4. Buying second-hand also means protecting the environment: Going for second-hand clothes also benefits the planet. The fashion industry, as you know, is one of the largest polluters. In a way, buying second-hand clothes, you are preventing from being a waste in the landfill and giving them a new lease of life. 

 5.Help your child develop a unique style: When it comes to your kids, they exhibit their sense of style and personality. By getting second-hand kids clothes in Sonoma County, you provide them with an opportunity to develop their understanding of style. At the same time, you will also teach them important lessons about the environment and be conscious of their immediate surroundings. 

 In conclusion

We sincerely believe this post will help you get the inspiration to buy from a second-hand kids' clothing store. Whipper Snappers is a platform that allows parents to purchase high-quality pre-loved items at a lower price it is also the place where you can bring the things your children don't need so other families could use them. To know more, feel free to visit our website.