#but I know damn well it’s not and you just can’t stand that he’s disabled

[subarashiihibi]

Please let 2024 be the year the durarara fandom stops making “jokes” about Izaya being in a wheelchair 😍😍😍

[fingertipsmp3]

We need to take all the hate that tax collectors get and instead give it to debt collectors and people who check on eligibility for benefits. Tbh

[notjustjavierpena]

Siggy, the real question is pls get some more pregnancy joel…..bc tempers has me feeling some type of way 😮‍💨🥹

The Making of Ellie - Part IV: Libido

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Ask and you shall receive, anon ❤️ Hope it is worth the wait. 

Summary: Your libido has increased since getting pregnant. Joel doesn’t have a problem with indulging you.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut (mdni!), teasing, fingering, dirty talk, squirting, pregnancy sex, bit of fluff, intense orgasms, handjob, come-eating, desperate and whimpering joel is a warning in itself, the tiniest use of daddy.

Word count: 2.4k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49183051/chapters/124097539

Libido

Since entering your third trimester, your libido has increased significantly. It is to the point where you feel painfully hot and bothered throughout the day, having described it as an itch that simply won’t go away no matter how much you scratch it. You’ll cross your legs, bite your lip, flush pink and be short of breath just by catching a glimpse of Joel, and he’ll be on you as soon as humanly possible. In short: You just want to, and you do, fuck all the damn time. Bed, bathroom, kitchen, in the hallway, once on the staircase, car. 

Joel is happy to oblige, at least inside the four walls of your shared home. Sarah has completely fled the house at this point; despite it starting with your temper tantrums, her distaste for being home was really set in stone when she walked in on the two of you in a compromising position. 

“Dad, I’m really happy for you and all, but Jesus Christ, I’ll be home again tomorrow,” she’d said, and now, she comes home for dinner and to pack her soccer bag. He lets her. She’s practically grown at this point, and he’ll see her when she needs him, he knows this. He has made it a habit to text her goodnight too, and she always responds quickly with a heart emoji.

You on the other hand are a whole different story. You are always in close proximity to him, circling him like a goddamn cat who does not want to admit its attachment to you and waiting to strike for the right moment to get attention. 

Joel is emptying the dishwasher, a thing that he has made clear is his job after the incident, when he spots you out of the corner of his eye. He smiles to himself and pretends not to see you, continuing his work on getting all the mugs into the cabinet above him without crushing any of the million amounts of snacks you have hidden in the back. 

You move closer. He watches still, catches the way your skirt flows as you walk to stand on his right side. You grip the edge of the kitchen counter, leaning against it and eyeing him up. 

“Hey babe,” you say, tapping a finger on the front of the kitchen cabinet. 

“Hi honey,” he replies nonchalantly to make you work for it. He starts filling up the dishwasher too, causing a microexpression of frustration and confusion on your face. 

“Do you wanna do something together?” You suggest. 

“Sure, when ’m done here.”

“How about now? Skip the cleaning up thing?” 

“Is there anythin’, in particular, ya wanna do?” He acts oblivious. He goes to wash his hands, “Somethin’ that can’t wait?”

“Well,” you say with confidence, “Wouldn’t you rather get with—“

You push your hands down onto the counter to lift yourself up onto the kitchen table, but the act is hardly successful; you’ve become too stiff to do it, and it ends up a lot less sexy than Joel assumes is your intention. You try again, but you can’t get your ass onto the table, round belly in the way of being flexible enough to be seductive. 

“Hold up,” you furrow your brows, trying your act again and using your legs to kickstart the jump off the floor but yet again to no avail, “I can do this.”

“Sweetheart,” Joel says, one hand resting on his chin as he hides the urge to laugh out loud. He clears his throat to cover up a chuckle. 

“Stop,” you snap at him as you catch him actually laughing at you. He tries to suppress it, but when it bubbles up in his chest without his control, you become stubborn, “No, no, just wait.”

You struggle for a few moments more whilst Joel bites his cheek to keep you from getting upset. Eventually, you groan, “A little help here?”

“Sure,” Joel stands in front of you. He pushes on the soles of your feet the next time you try jumping, giving you the boost you need to perch yourself on the surface. 

“Now,” you brush non-existent dust off your skirt, gesturing to yourself afterward. Joel thinks you’re adorable, “Wouldn’t you rather get with this than clean the kitchen?” 

Joel sends you a smirk, “After that whole display, I’m actually not sure. Can you jump down and do it again so I’m certain?”

“Joel,” you bite, crossing your arms over your chest. He doesn’t know if you purposely squeeze your fuller breasts together or if he is just a dog, but he cannot help himself from staring. You catch him doing it, “Great. So you can stare at my cleavage, but you can’t touch me?” 

Joel says your name. You ignore him. 

“Have I not been paying ‘nough attention to ya?” Joel tuts in the softest voice, closing the distance between you to stand in between your legs, “Is that why you’re actin’ up?” 

You pout at him so prettily, arms still underneath your tits and fingers tapping on your elbows. It turns more fun when you don’t reply, gaze dropping after it becomes too intense to stare back at him. Joel loves this little game, can feel his cock twitch in his jeans and threaten to strain against the zipper. You look past his shoulder, chewing on your bottom lip with a sort of pained restlessness. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” Joel continues. He reaches out to place his palm on your round belly, rubbing soothingly as you continue to ignore him in your attempt to repress a tantrum. He knows you get angry and frustrated when you don’t eat, but after getting you pregnant, he has discovered that you react the same to not getting fucked on the regular too, “‘S not right for me to tease ya like that.”

“No, it’s not,” you agree, placing your hand on top of his in a gesture of reconciliation, “Think you should make it up to your baby mama. She’s going insane, you know. Only you help.” 

Joel can feel his cock start to harden already. It is so easy for you to rile him up these days, hearing you talk about how he has ruined anything else for you. He is the only one to save you from this torment, and luckily, Joel likes to be useful. 

“Yeah? And what’s that?” Joel’s hand on your stomach slips down and then up under your skirt. He glides his fingertips along your inner thigh, watches you struggle to find the words as his digits go further north until they rest right by the fabric of your underwear. He can feel the warmth radiating from your core.

“Uhh,” you say as your mind fogs. Your legs automatically spread for him.

“This?” He hooks his thumb underneath the damp fabric right at your center, “Jesus, you’re so wet, baby. I’m so sorry. If you’d just told me, I would’ve—“

“Just touch me, stop talking, and—” you whine, scooting a little further towards the edge to give him more access, “Don’t have to worry now.”

Joel’s thumb settles on your clit and presses down lightly. It causes you to say his name desperately, the back of your head knocking against the kitchen cabinet when you crane your neck back. 

“Shit, are you okay?” Joel asks. He stops temporarily while you reach up to touch the back of your head. Though instead of wincing, you start giggling and Joel cannot suppress his own laughter. 

“Keep going,” you egg him on, “I’ll be more careful.”

Joel decides to pull your underwear to the side instead, so he can sink two fingers into you. You let out a shaky breath, “Oh, fuck. That’s just what I needed.”

Joel’s thumb is on your clit again. He fucks you on his digits slowly, searches for your g-spot for only a second before rubbing it with the pads of his fingers. God, the way your face goes slack. You absolutely love it. 

The wet squelches of your cunt are obscene enough to get him painfully hard in mere seconds too, combined with the feeling of your walls fluttering with your climax building.

“How the fuck are you so soaked?” He asks in disbelief. 

“May have pregamed,” you admit in your blissful state. 

“What?” Joel doesn’t stop what he is doing, but he slows down until he has almost come to a halt. 

You find his gaze with a frown, “Don’t stop.”

“I haven’t… pregamed?”

You squirm a little and try to move, but Joel places his free hand on your belly to stop you, “Tried to take care of it myself. Didn’t fucking work, okay? The angle is all wrong.”

Joel cannot believe his ears. He lets his hand go up to grab your chin and then starts fucking your cunt with his fingers in earnest. You cry out softly, holding his gaze intensely. 

“You find me, okay?” He puts on the voice that always makes you shut up and nod, “I don’t care what the fuck I’m doing. Say you wanna come and I’ll be there.”

Just like he predicted, you simply nod at his words. Your hand comes up to wrap around his wrist, and he marvels at how you are barely able to connect your fingertips when your hand is in a fist around it. He loves you. Sweetest little thing he has ever known. 

“Gonna be a good girl and come f’me?” He smiles devilishly when your breathing indicates that you are close. He lets go of your chin and splays the palm on your chest to feel your rapid heartbeat, “Make those legs tremble f’me?”

He curls his fingers upwards to torture his favorite spot inside of you, and then you are coming around them with fast pulses of your walls. He watches your thighs twitch once and then twice before actually shaking violently, making him wonder how long you’ve involuntarily edged yourself before finding him. 

“Fuck, Joel, Joel,” you gasp in a very particular way, and Joel quickly removes his fingers from your cunt to see how a wet patch forms on your skirt from how you gush repeatedly as your climax reaches its peak.

It doesn’t even matter that it’s in the fucking kitchen, because the pride that he feels at making you squirt knows no bounds, and he cannot help the boyishness in his chuckle, “You’re fucking amazing.”

“Holy fuck,” you groan as you come down from your high. You rest your head against the kitchen cabinet again, this time without knocking it roughly into it. 

“Good?” He asks. 

“Fantastic,” you sigh contentedly, “Just gimme a sec. Take your pants off. I wanna do something nice for you before I go take this stupid skirt off.”

“Baby, you don’t have to,” he reassures despite how his dick hurts by now. 

“Pants off, Miller,” you commandeer. 

Joel follows through without further hesitation. He makes quick work of undoing his jeans and shoving them down with his underwear, grunting at the friction along his hard cock. 

“Look at you,” you say with a pout, “Poor baby daddy.”

You reach out to grab a hold of his cock, watching the bead of precome that threatens to drip down from the tip. Running the pads of your fingers up and down the shaft teasingly, Joel lets out a relieved moan at finally being touched but it only lasts for a moment because nothing escalates. 

“You said something nice. This ain’t nice, sweetheart,” he tells you with a groan, squeezing himself further in between your legs to get closer to your smug expression. You swear the precome over the sensitive head and both of Joel’s hands fly to the kitchen counter. He places them flat against the surface, “Really not gonna say anythin?’

You bite your bottom lip and shake your head, eyes still glazed over with your post-orgasmic bliss but now also sporting an innocence that drives him mad. You start stroking his dick, fist tightening around his girth and he can feel himself pulse in your hand.

It feels fucking great as you drag your palm over the skin again and again, but something clicks in Joel’s head when desperation hits. Fuck, he wants to come.

It would be impossible to make his body listen to him right now as it feels disconnected from reality and control. He tilts his hips, looks down at where you’re touching him so expertly, and then fucks himself into your tight grip. 

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you say in disbelief but never falter. If anything, you manage to squeeze enough to make it a tighter fit without hurting him, “Fuck, you’re so hot like this.”

“Fuck,” he swears loudly and speeds up his hips. One of the hands on the kitchen table comes up to grab a cabinet handle, knuckles turning white as he strains to chase his orgasm. 

When the rubber band at the base of his spine snaps, Joel stills his hips. Your hand hesitates for a second, but then the first rope of come spills over your hand and you milk him for every drop he has in him. 

Joel hasn’t come like this in a while; always empties himself sheathed inside your soft cunt, but when you praise him absentmindedly as he comes, he finds that he might become partial to it. He pants through the almost painful clenches of his lower stomach and balls. 

When he whimpers at the over-sensitivity, your hand stills completely. Your free hand strokes his cheek with the back of your fingers, “You good? Talk to me.”

It takes a beat to find his bearings once more. His hand plops down onto the counter again. He mumbles with exhaustion coating his voice, “Alright. ‘M back.”

He thinks you’re as spent as him, but with your remaining energy, you lift your hand from his cock to lick his come off the back of it with the flat of your tongue. He groans, “Dirty girl.”

“What? It has vitamins,” you tease, giving your hand another kitten lick, “Unfortunately not D. Should’ve been vitamin D.” 

Joel rolls his eyes. He struggles a little with his balance as he gets dressed again, blood still not having fully returned to his brain. He gets the paper towels and helps you clean up, but you just look at him with a dazed smile.

“What?” He questions.

“You better fuck me like that tonight,” you muse.

“You know what to say, and I’ll be there. No pregaming,” he replies simply and helps you onto the ground again, “Now go change, momma.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[direwombat]

tagged by so many people over the past few weeks, but most recently @simplegenius042 on this fine wip wednesday (thank youuuu~). been a while, but here are some sneak peeks at katc ch 7 that's fairly hot off the presses (ie, i wrote them today, they're super rough, and will see the red ink of an editing pen at some point in the near future). syb finally made it to the ranger station in the whitetails, only to find that there's no sign of her brother to be found. just a chatty jacob calling in via radio, and some consequences of the van crash that saved her from john in ch 5. Also tw for passing references to childhood abuse

“Trying to call someone, Deputy?” 

She scowls, glancing around for the source of his voice, if only to disable it. 

“Gotta say, watching you clear out an outpost on your own was impressive. Waltzed into a den of wolves like it was nothing.”

Her blood runs cold. He was watching her the whole damn time? Her eyes dart up to the ceiling, scanning for security cameras. There are none inside, but as she carefully moves to the door, she spots one on the porch outside. According to Augustine, the rangers had security and trail cams set up all over the Whitetails. The cult must have co-opted those for themselves. She grits her teeth. Moving outside, her hand curls around the handle of a baseball bat left leaning against the exterior wall and smashes the camera. 

The pinch in her gut sharpens, white hot and piercing through her like she’s been stabbed. The skin of her abdomen pulls taut and tight as she lifts her arms to swing. 

When she returns inside, low, sinister laughter fills the room. “Clever little jackrabbit, ain’t ya?” 

A growl slips from between gritted teeth and with one hand pressed to her side, she lurches behind the reception desk. Resting on one of the shelves underneath the tabletop, is a HAM radio. She makes note of the frequency it's attuned to, jotting it down in the margins of her map before picking up the transceiver. “The fuck you want?” 

“Got someone who wants to say hi to you.” For a brief, fleeting moment, hope kindles in her ribcage -- Augustine -- only to be snuffed out when Jacob continues, “Ain’t that right, Peaches.” 

Her brow pinches together in confusion, mouth open, ready to ask what the fuck he’s talking about when Staci’s voice comes through. 

“Syb?” His voice is rough. Raw. As if he’d spent the past God knows how long either screaming or crying. He sounds scared. 

All of a sudden her aches and pains and fears are pushed aside in favor of trying to soothe his. “Yeah, I’m here, Stace. You alright?”

She hears his breath hitch and grow shallow, as if he’s hyperventilating. “Don’t listen to him. Whatever he tells you, whatever he says, it’s a --” He’s cut off by the sharp sound of a hand striking skin and he cries out in pain. She gasps, flinching as if she had also been struck. The phantom burn of her Daddy’s hand on her cheek makes the fine hairs on her neck stand on end.  

When Jacob speaks next, his voice is low and threatening. “Alright, that’s enough.” 

“I’m gonna kill you,” Sybille growls.  

“I’m sure you will, sweetheart,” he says condescendingly. “But until then, here’s what’s gonna happen: you’re going to surrender. You’re going to do exactly what I say. And if you behave, maybe I let you see your friend here.” 

“Kiss my ass.” 

“I’m being gracious here, Deputy. The rangers at the station didn’t get as generous an offer.” 

Her lips curl back, exposing all her teeth in a predatory snarl. “You sunnovabitch, I’m gonna --”

But, before she can finish her threat, he’s talking over her. “You’re not feeling well, are you, Deputy? I see the way you’re moving. Slow. Clutching your stomach. Abdominal pain?” He clicks his tongue and she can practically hear him shaking his head. “Nasty things can happen if you let that go unchecked. Do your little buddies in the Valley know? Can’t imagine they do if they let you come up here all on your own.”

Her silence must speak volumes, because after a moment’s pause, he begins to laugh. 

“They don’t know you’re here, do they?”

Her molars grind together so hard her jaw creaks. The pain in her abdomen is getting worse. A pressure builds  Her heart is racing so fast she can barely hear him over it rushing in her ears. Through heavy, labored breaths, she grits out, “You listen to me --”

“No. You listen to me. My Chosen will come get you. You’ll play nice. And maybe -- if i’m in a good mood -- maybe, I’ll humor you with a negotiation. How does that sound?”

“Sounds like you can take my boot and shove it -- ah!” Another sharp stab of pain lances through her stomach, and her shaking knees buckle, sending her to the ground. Her vision tunnels, darkness rapidly closing in from the corners of her eyes. Her body lands on the hardwood floor with a solid thud. Boomer is rushing to her side just as she hears the motor of an ATV approaching from a distance. He whimpers, nosing at her and trying to nudge her back to her feet, but her weak and trembling limbs won’t let her. “Go,” she hisses at the same time Jacob’s voice calls to her from transceiver now dangling by its cord. “Go!” 

Boomer whines again, but follows her command, and slips through the door she’d left slightly ajar. 

She groans, clutching her stomach and curling her knees close to her chest. The roar of the ATV grows louder and louder as it approaches. She rests her sweaty forehead against the cool floor and waits. Waits for Jacob’s Chosen. Waits for the dark embrace of unconsciousness to finally deliver her from her pain. Waits for God to show her the Pearly Gates where Mamma and Augustine are waiting for her before the Devil grabs her ankle and drags her down the Hell.

And for funsies, here's the snippet from a sequence featuring syb's recurring guilt dream

Gravel crunches under heavy boots. Each shuffling step kicks up dust behind her. Sweat clings to her skin, beading at her brow and slipping down her neck to soak into the collar of her shirt. The humidity is suffocating, heavy and oppressive as the Louisiana heat beats down on her. She lurches forward with slow, shambling steps, her head light and nodding back and forth as her exhausted and aching body soldiers on.  

One foot. 

Then the other. 

Again, and again, and again, and again. 

A chorus of cicadas screech -- or maybe that’s just the ringing in her ears -- as she’s pulled like a dog on a leash towards the grave she helped dig. 

A lazy breeze cuts through the stagnant air, but it does little to wick the sweat from her brow. Blades of tall grass in the fields around her bend and sway, whispering softly and echoing the words that pour out of her mouth. 

“O Lord, I beg Thy forgiveness for havin’ offended Thee, and I detest all my sins…”

The moon hangs low, fat and full, on the horizon, illuminating her way with silver beams of light. Every breath she takes is a struggle, every step she takes causes an ache so deep she feels it in the marrow of her creaking bones. Her hair clings to her forehead and the back of her neck. Blisters have formed and popped several times over, the soles of her feet squishing out blood that pools in the dusty footprints she leaves behind. 

She’s walked this lonely dirt road more times than she cares to count, nothing more than a shambling corpse, making a pilgrimage to the same Unholy spot every time she goes to sleep. 

Wiping the sweat from her brow, she adjusts her grip on the shovel slung over her shoulder. Its wooden handle warped and stained with the blood and sweat of her calloused palms. She swears that each time she returns to this road, that stain gets a little bit bigger. 

As she passes a pond, a creeping bit of the bayou that threatens to overtake the road with each passing summer, the back of her neck prickles as a pair of unseen eyes lock onto her. Clouds drift overhead, blotting out the moonlight and she’s cast into darkness. A shadowy figure swoops past her with a heavy beat of its wings and fluttering of feathers. She gasps and her gaze snaps skyward, some wild prey instinct sends her heart racing, urging her to run. 

An owl glides through the air, following the path of the road towards the weeping willow that towers on the horizon. It’s the only tree for miles, standing sentinel at the crossroads where she helped bury a man. 

Underneath its swaying boughs stands a single grave marker, one that her Daddy hadn’t bothered to make. She comes to a stop in front of it. It’s an old thing, nothing more than two planks of wood bound together by rope. Its white paint is chipped and weathered. It bears no name, no dates -- nothing to indicate who has been laid to rest here. 

With a heavy sigh, she turns her shovel around to sink the blade into the soft, sandy soil and begins to dig. Time slows, the only sign of it marching ever onward is the pile of dirt that grows larger with every shovelful. The owl watches her work, offering a scornful hoot whenever she stops to catch her breath. 

It’s only when the tip of the spade makes contact with something solid -- a hollow thunk reverberating through the air -- that she tosses the shovel to the side. She falls to her knees and begins to rip into the earth by hand. Her nails chip. Her fingers bleed. She catches sight of curved pieces of keratin caught in the churning soil. Her hands are caked in dirt and blood. 

But still, she digs. 

Off in the distance, a coyote chitters -- a sound that morphs into the rough and rasping cackle of a heavy smoker as another breeze rolls through, hot and humid like breath on her neck. The smell of tobacco is carried on it. “Gotta move faster than that, Billie,” her Daddy barks. 

And still, she digs. 

But she isn’t digging fast enough. 

The angry wind whips and curls around her. The exposed skin of her arms alight in burning pricks of pain. The faded circular scars pockmarking the underside of her forearms burn, throbbing in pain as the familiar sting of ashes rains down her neck. “Y’ain’t got all night, girl,” Daddy snarls. “C’mon, move it!” 

Panic sets in. 

Nonetheless, she digs. 

taglist (opt in/out)

@josephseedismyfather, @la-grosse-patate, @tommyarashikage, @florbelles, @statichvm,

@fourlittleseedlings, @wrathfulrook, @harmonyowl, @ivymarquis, @carlosoliveiraa

@cassietrn, @confidentandgood, @strafethesesinners, @trench-rot, @g0dspeeed,

@miyabilicious, @inafieldofdaisies, @josephslittledeputy, @aceghosts, @adelaidedrubman,

@finding-comfort-in-rain, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @voidika, @strangefable, and anyone else with a wip to share this wednesday (or any other day <3)

[weixuldo]

Enigma// ch 16

anakin x reader

a/n: this chapter is a longer one, i have so many plans for the future of this story and there’s gonna be a looot of angst (hope that’s good w u guys hehe)

You finally tell Anakin the news you had been dreading

warnings: cursing, cannon disabled character, insecurity, mentions of pregnancy, arguments, verbal degradation (not the fun kind), slut shaming, alcohol abuse, relapse, mentions of alcoholism, just heavy chapter all around

_______________________________

“Anakin…I’m pregnant” 

He froze.

If you hadn't spent so much time together, you wouldn’t have even noticed the shift in his demeanor, but you knew him and you knew something was wrong.

“What did you say?” he responded stiffly.

You took another deep breath and repeated.

“I’m pregnant, Anakin”

He stood from the couch, blankly staring at you.

“I don’t know how, I thought you said you didn’t- you couldn’t… “ you started, hoping to alleviate his unsettling aura.

“I cant.” he cut you off.

“I don't know what to do, I’m scared!” you cried.

He was still just standing there.

“Please, Ani-, Please say something!” you begged.

“Get out”

“What?” 

“Get out of my house” he repeated.

“Ani-”

“Don’t fucking call me that”

“Anakin, what- why are y-”

“get the fuck out!” he shouted as he pointed towards the exit. 

“You and I know damn well I can’t have children, so that's just heartless to even bring that up to me.” his face held a viscous scowl as he yelled at you. 

“But It’s true! I’ve been to the clinic, I have the-” you pleaded with him. 

“And it wasn’t me, so who the fuck got you pregnant? You aren’t the fuckin’ virgin Mary, so you have to be fucking someone else?” he spat.

“I swear, I have only been with you Anakin, I’ve only been with you” you cried

“Don’t fuckin lie to me, Y/N!”

“I trusted you...I shared myself with you and this? This is what you do?” he yelled as he began to breathe heavily. 

“I’m not lying” you pleaded with him.

“I don’t wanna hear it”

“I’ll get a test, I-I’ll show you all my messages, I-i’ll do whatever, please, PLEASE! I’m telling the truth- You have to believe me!” you were full on sobbing on his living room floor. 

His breathing was becoming jagged and he stumbled back to reach for his inhaler.

“I don’t have to do shit” he said venomously before grappling with the small device in his hands. 

“Ana-”

After he took a large puff of medicine he shouted for you to leave once more.

“I told you to leave, don’t make me throw you out” he said with such disdain.

Even with his limitations, you knew he was strong enough (and angry enough) to do just that. So, weakly, you gathered yourself from the floor and stumbled out of his apartment onto the sidewalk where you collapsed once more. 

You didn’t know what you expected, but it wasn’t that. You clutched onto your shirt and sobbed, not only were you pregnant, you may have just lost the man you loved.

_____________________

The next few days consisted of you floating in and out of reality as you sat absent-mindedly in your classes. You were only getting one meal a day and spent most of your time cocooned in your bed, facing the standard dorm-beige wall.

You didn’t have the energy or the will to do anything…you could feel depression creeping up on you.

Even if you got rid of it, your relationship with Anakin was basically over. But if you kept it you would be stuck as an undergrad student with a baby… not exactly a great way to start your adulthood. 

Ahsoka stopped by to check up on you after she hadn’t heard from you for three days; she came with your favorite snacks and some other stuff to cheer you up. 

The two of you had a self care night and you told her what had happened over the weekend with Anakin (Of course keeping out the fact that he is the one who knocked you up). You told her how angry he was that you were pregnant and not because you were young, instead he was just mad that you had been in a situation to get pregnant.

“Ash, he threw me out… h-he literally threatened to physically throw me out” you cried as you recounted the traumatizing fight.

The tears spilled over as you struggled to breathe, “I jus-st don’t u-understand why he-” a loud sob cut you off.

Quickly Ash gathered you into her arms and coached your breathing.

“Shh, shh, it’s going to be ok… Let’s breathe, ok?” 

You nodded and sniffled.

“Ok, Deep breath in through your nose… good. Now out through your mouth” 

Once you were calmed down she responded to your news. 

Her older friend’s behavior disgusted her, “Y/N im so sorry. Truly, I have no idea what has gotten into him…He has no right to talk to you that way.”

You thanked her for being there for you and tried to move on with the girls' night, you needed to focus on the small bouts of happiness you could find.

The next day, you went ahead and told Ben and Satine, because they were the last two in the friend group you hadn’t told and it covered up the reason you told Anakin (Instead of letting them know you told him asap because he was the father).

Even though he was a total ass, you still wanted to respect the privacy deal the two of you struck back in the beginning of your relationship. Though honestly, you were starting to not give a fuck about the secret; a part of you wanted everyone to know he got you pregnant and was now being a complete asshole about it. 

Days went by and then weeks where you silently hoped for an apology from Anakin, but you knew it wasn’t coming.

Since the confession, he closed himself off from everyone; he no longer attended dinners, texted in the group chat, and you hadn't even physically seen him since then. 

Everyone still got together for the routine dinners, the only difference was that Anakin was a “no-show”. The four of you discussed his recent absences (of course you knew that it was probably because he hated your guts right now, but that was no reason to cut off everyone else), you all worried that he may be drinking again.

Ben explained back when he was first struggling with drinking, he’d disappear like this for days or even weeks, going on unhealthy and reckless benders. 

The more Ben told you about Anakin’s past patterns, you felt more and more sick to your stomach. What he described was wildly unhealthy and you hated that you could be the catalyst that turned him back down that path. 

At the end of the dinner the four of you agreed that Ahsoka would go over to Anakin’s and confront him; Ben and Satine both had work and they thought it best not to send you, incase he was drinking and became violent (plus you didn't think he’d react well to you showing up at his door).

Also, Ahsoka had lots of experience calling Anakin out on his bullshit- she could stand her ground against him drunk or sober. 

Hopefully the group would finally get some answers out of him. 

_____________________________________

Ahsoka arrived and noticed that all of his blinds were drawn and the mail in his box was piled up. 

She took a deep breath; she could already tell this wasn’t going to be good. 

Anakin hollered an aggressive,  “Who is it?”, when he heard the knock. 

“Snipps. I’m comin’ in Sky guy, alright?” she said as she pushed the door open. 

Anakin squinted as the light from outside shone through the doorway; he was lying on the couch in a shirt and a pair of old army shorts and wasn’t wearing his legs. 

Ahsoka gently closed the door behind her and allowed her eyes to adjust to the dimly lit room. It was a mess; dishes all around, dirty clothes scattered on the floor, TV on, and sadly… bottles…all around. 

He relapsed. 

Everyone knew he had been doing really well about keeping his drinking under control, but there were worries of a relapse when no one had heard from him. 

Anakin glanced over to his friend, “I like the new hair, Snipps”.

Ahsoka had her hair rebraided and added more white and blue a while ago. 

“Thanks, It's not that new though, I got them done like two weeks ago. But you wouldn’t have known that, right?” she passive aggressively said.

His blue eyes glared at her as if to say “what the hell did you just say?”.

“Well hello to you too” he huffed as he brought the bottle of rum in his hand to his lips. 

Beside the couch was Anakin’s wheelchair; he usually avoided using it at all costs.

“I didn’t feel like going through the hassle of puttin’ my legs on” he said when he noticed Ahsoka looking at his chair. 

Ever since he could stand to have his legs on, he always wanted to have them on; he never wanted to feel “helpless” and for some reason he was ashamed of his wheelchair. But the fact that he had it out now was a major concern. He wasn’t doing well. 

“Anakin, where have you been?” she sighed defeatedly.

“Uhh, look around, then tell me what you think?” he shot back at her with a patronizing laugh. 

“That’s not what I mean”

“Then enlighten me, what do you mean?” he was getting defensive and irritated, but she was not leaving until she got to the bottom of his sudden absence. 

“We haven’t seen you in weeks. Ben and Satine are worried, so is y/n, and so am I”

“Why would that bitch be worried about me?” he snapped as he tossed the empty bottle into the trash bin beside the couch.

“I know you aren't talking about y/n right now” Ahsoka became defensive and was starting to lose her patience with the man in front of her. 

“Maybe I am, why the fuck would you care if I was?” he said as he cracked open another bottle.

“I heard how awful you were to her”

“Yea. And who’s to say she didn’t deserve it?” he annoyedly stated, rolling his eyes.

“Why are you so upset that y/n is pregnant?! I mean sure she’s young, but it's her life!” Ahsoka yelled at the half drunk man on the couch.

“You wouldn’t understand, Snipps,” Anakin said, resting his head on one of his gloved hands and taking a swig of rum with the other.

“Maker, sometimes you're such an asshole.” Ahsoka huffed. 

“I am not an asshole, she’s the one who fucked up, ok?” he snapped back

Ahsoka narrowed her gaze and watched angrily as Anakin tilted back his bottle once more. 

“You gotta stop with the drinking Anakin.”

“Add it to the list of shit I gotta fix” he huffed out a laugh.

“You were doing so well-”

“Do you not think that I know that? I fucking know I fucked up my sobriety, you don’t have to remind me!” he yelled.

She sighed, “I just don't understand where your aggression is coming from”

“I’m not being aggressive, I’m treating y/n how she deserves to be treated, like the whore she is.”

Ahsoka stomped up to Anakin and snatched the rum out of his mechanical hand.

“What the fuck Ahsoka!?” he yelled.

“You have no right call her a whore, I don’t fucking know what your problem is Anakin Skywalker, but i’ll be damned if I allow you to talk about y/n that way. After all she’s done for you?’.

The color drained from Anakin’s face and he froze.

“Yea. I know she’s come over here to help you, I know she offered to help you when you had to be in your chair that week, I know she helped you when you fucking fell out of bed cause you were too wasted to get up and go piss!! You will not disrespect her like that!! Do not EVER say that again, do you hear me?! ” Ahsoka barked at the man in front of her.

His eyes widened and he shook his head, “Get out”.

“No, I’m going to find out why you’ve been acting like such a dick”

“I said OUT!” He shouted pointing to the door; not that he could really enforce his wish because he wasn’t coordinated enough to get out of his seat. 

“ANAKIN, I’M TRYING TO HELP YOU! YOU ACT LIKE SHE WAS COMMITTING A DELIBERATE ACT AGAINST YOU WHEN SHE GOT PREGNANT” Ahsoka yelled back.

“SHE WAS” he practically screamed.

“What are you talking about?!”

He staid silent and looked away.

“wait…. Anakin…. Do you- do you have a thing for y/n”

Anakin let out an annoyed laugh and rolled his eyes. 

“Anakin, she has a boyfriend”

“I know”

“Then why are you upset? Is it because she’s with someone else?”

“No” 

“Then what is it?” Ahoska pleaded.

“The doctors said I couldn’t have children”

“I know that Anakin, what does that have to do wi-”

“I'm her boyfriend… well was.”

Ahsoka’s eyes widened, “what…”

“Yea, fuckin surprise. So it is a personal attack on me ‘casue how the fuck did she get pregnant if I cant have kids?” he lamented with a sad smug look.

Ahsoka shook her head, “Anakin, I think you should get your fertility checked again-”.

“Are you serious right now Ahsoka? Do you even hear what you're asking?”

Ahsoka’s face was serious as she spoke, “yes, it has been years since-”

“Do you not remember what happened last time? What happened with P-” his voice began to waver as he remembered the heartbreak of his last relationship, “Padme”.

“I remember, but I know for a fact y/n has not been with anyone else. She loves you. So much Anakin, and honestly I don’t know how she deals with you”. 

“You don’t know that-”

“Yes I fucking do, I was there to see how much your words affected her. I was there to help her breathe when she was choking on her own tears. I saw a girl whose heart had just been shattered. Why would she be that upset if she wasn’t committed to you?”

Anakin’s heart fell.

Fuck.

A wave of guilt washed over him, maybe he was too quick to judge… but the doctors.. They said..

“I-I don't know what to say” he managed.

“You've said plenty, Skywalker.”

“Could you please tell her-”

“No Anakin. I’m done running interference for your fuck-ups” she said as she headed for the exit.

“Ahsoka…” Anakin called, attempting to follow her; in his drunken haze, he must have forgotten he didn't have his legs on. 

She turned as he landed on the floor with a thud. He groaned and he tried to get upright.

Ahsoka was still angry, but she knew he needed help. 

When she sat him up, he was sobbing.

“Fuck. Snipps, I loved her. I-I just felt like- like she- fuck!” he cried.

“You’re drunk, Anakin. I’m going to put you in bed and spend the night on the pull-out, but we’re done talking about this until you sober up and get a test”

He was shaking, but nodding his head “o-ok-ok o-ok” he repeated.

Ahsoka was drained, on one hand she knew why he was like this and as she helped him to bed all she saw was the kind hearted boy she grew up with. She saw how emotionally damaged he was, she knew how hard he had it. But that was no excuse to act the way he did; the other half of her was disgusted by his behavior and the fact that he spoke to you that way. 

She decided that she was making him an appointment tomorrow morning. No excuses.

___________________________________

The ride to the doctor’s office was silent, the only sound was Anakin’s occasional ragged breath from a night of crying. They arrived and Anakin was taken back to an examination room, but not before Ahsoka insisted he ask for a fertility test.

Anakin hated medical facilities, whether it be hospitals, doctors offices, orthotics offices, or the physio center; he had spent almost half his life in those goddamn places. He sat patiently for his examination and was compliant with his doctor's inquiries. 

“Do you have any more questions, Mr. Skywalker?” the doctor asked as he straightened his wiry glasses.

Anakin debated asking such an odd question at the moment, but he wouldn’t have peace of mind unless he asked (plus Ahsoka would kill him if he didn’t). 

“Yea… you know my results said I wouldn’t be able to have kids”

The doctor nodded as he met his patient’s eyes, “yes… are you inquiring about children?”

"Not really, but is it possible that some of me is still…viable?” his face was surely red with embarrassment.

“If you are asking me about the fertility possibilities for your sperm, we have a test for that, but you’d have to make an appointment at our clinic for fertility and It’ll cost a bit extra but we will be able to get the results back to you in a few weeks.”

“Could I-”

“Of course” the man in the white coat said as he promptly left the room.  

Anakin leaned back against the wall and exhaled a large breath. Fuck. Was he really going to do this again?

He could remember the anxiety he felt when going into that clinic for the first time with Padme all those years ago; the fate of his relationship was on the line back then. 

Now, he had ended his relationship with you but deep down he prayed that he would be able to have kids because the possibility of you cheating on him was tearing him apart. He wanted to believe you wouldn’t do that to him, but he wasn’t really counting on his viability– but after years of no activity, why now would they choose to become active?

But also he didn’t know how he would face you if he were viable…how would he make it up to you after treating you like…that?

***

a/n: next chapter comes after this in the theme line then imma do a small time jump to get to another plot point haha- i hope you guys are still enjoying!!

taglist : @dnamht @sxoulohvn @angeelcoree @wtf-andys @httpeachesblog @katsukiswrld @jetiikote @poisonedsultana @imarimon

[creganofhousestark]

(Screenshots because I’m one hundred percent sure i will be blocked for stating facts that go against the op’s headcanons if i were to reblog my opinions under their post and then will proceed to rant away about the eViL aRyA sTaNs whose crime is, well, reading the books, you know?)

So, i had the misfortune of coming across this one post by @agentrouka-blog when i was going through the main tags and, god! The amount of bs i have to wade through in the name of fandom experience is concerning at this point.

Whenever did Sansa cover for Arya? When she was declaring her as a traitor to a bloodthirsty Cersei Lannister that it was her sister with the traitor’s blood and not her after her father’s imprisonment? Or when she threw Arya under the bus at Trident?

“She blames Sansa for things she never did” dude there was never one moment where Arya blamed Sansa for things she never did. Hell, Arya didn’t blame Sansa enough. Guess it’s time to reread AGoT lol. Sansa “it’s your butcher boy’s fault for dying because he attacked the prince” is blameless y’all *mic drop*

“Violently attacks her because that’s her opportunity to blow off steam after a traumatic 4 days” yes because your sister is basically accusing of treason when the reason behind her actions was purely defense. Apparently you must be level headed in the face of your your sister refusing to be honest in a moment when the outcome (which is Mycah living or dying) depends on her word. If Sansa’s really as smart and intelligent as stansas claim then Joffrey’s actions at the Trident should’ve opened her eyes. Ned was the Hand of the King, the King’s BFF. She was under no pressure to maintain diplomacy. Hell, Ned was right by her side, reassuring her and encouraging her to speak her truth. What would’ve happened if she were honest? The betrothal would’ve been called off? Ned would’ve lost his spot at worst? Big loss, the North would have minded it’s own business as usual….and Sansa’s southern dreams would have shattered. In that moment Sansa chose her dreams and fantasies over her sister and remain blind to the kind of a monster Joffrey was.

Moreover, being focused and worried about herself and her desires is not necessarily a flaw, Sansa’s just more human. She’s got five heroes to compete against, which is why she may appear more flawed than Arya. But honestly it’s all subjective. Arya’s character is simply rich and has a hell lot more depth, that’s all.

Mostly Ned’s favouritism BRO NED CHOSE TO GIVE UP THE HONOUR HE VALUED hell he chose a traitor’s death for her and, goddammit there’s not one moment where he favoured one over the other. Do not talk about the damned flowers scene in Sansa I, Ned would’ve grinned and thanked Sansa for the same bleeding flowers. Sansa was just pissed that Ned didn’t reprimand his child for behaving like a typical 9 year old child. Which, nobility or no, is quite common in that society. Hell, we have textual evidence of Catelyn playing with LF and Lysa making mud pies at 12. It’s almost as if Sansa can’t stand anything short of Sansa 2.0 from her sister.

Arya’s miles better. Just ask GRRM. He wrote the books.

Anyways, thanks agentrouka for reminding me how brilliant of a writer George Martin is. The man picked stereotypical heroes and gave their stories not-so-stereotypical twists as their arcs progressed. An exiled powerless princess who earned it all and more through her blood sweat and tears, a non conformist noblewoman who’s gone through an extraordinary number of trials, a powerful noble dwarf unwanted by his own blood, a disabled boy with unparalleled magical potential and a bastard from two powerful, magical families who was practically thrown aside.

[8bitsupervillain]

Higurashi When They Cry Hou Ch. 7 Minagoroshi pt. 18

Should I refer to these as Watanagashi hijinks, since it’s after midnight and all? Guess that’s the age old question isn’t it, is it actually a new day when twelve midnight rolls around? Or is it only a new day when you go to sleep and wake up?

Considering their plan is literally called Operation Doomsday what really does it matter if the time of death for Miyo Takano doesn’t quite add up? I wonder why the people in charge of the research into Hinamizawa Syndrome decided Tomitake had to die? Was it just a cover so they could pin the suspicion on Irie and the Irie Clinic, or was there some deeper motive to taking him out? Is it really just the rogue element of those in charge of the entire operation, financially and otherwise, just decided they wanted to take out members of the other faction? Such speculation unfortunately will have to remain that way for the foreseeable future, I don’t recall if they ever bring up Tomitake, and the motives behind his death for the remainder of the chapter.

I also don’t know if they really delve into what the eighteen specific classified documents Takano was meant to secure are. I think it’s fair to assume that they’re to do with the research into Hinamizawa Syndrome that she and Irie had compiled in the years they’d been running the institute. But again I’m not sure if they ever really go into specifics in this chapter. I think it’s just the body of research they’d made over the past few years, but I don’t remember specifically at the moment.

Since the Mountain Dogs/Takano are responsible for propagating the myth of Oyashiro I do wonder if this means they are the ones responsible for the disappearance of Satoshi. Also if they’re the ones behind it all, does that mean that they actually killed Tamae Houjou? It stands to reason since Takano at the very least is behind trying to spread the legend of Oyashiro that would explain how Rika’s dad died of a “mysterious disease.” She mentions when she injected Tomitake that there’s a chance at the highest levels of infection with H173 that he could become disabled for life. It doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s a terminal infection that shuts down one or more major organs, but there’s a chance that’s what it could do.

My theory now is that Takano, and the Mountain Dogs, are responsible for at least three of the five years worth of Watanagashi killings/disappearances. There’s proof that the first killing was just a drunken argument that escalated far beyond reasonability. The only year I’m not certain on is the second years sacrifices of Satoko and Satoshi’s parents. It makes sense on paper that they’d be responsible there as well, but I’m just unclear on the motive, or when exactly Takano got control of the Mountain Dogs (due to information read in Chapter Eight: Matsuribayashi I estimate it happened around 1981). Why the Houjous had to goujou makes sense, it’s playing on the long-standing idea that the Houjou family were traitors to Hinamizawa. But again, this is just speculation on my part, I don’t believe it actually gets into the details as yet.

I know that it said Takano wanted to dump the bike along with Tomitake. But I like to imagine she dumped him wherever, drove a bit and got into a comically exaggerated fiasco of getting the bike out of her car before just flinging the damn thing away, going “good enough” and meeting up with her military contacts. Not every thought I have regarding this series is a serious well thought out thing, sometimes I like to imagine the characters having to bumble their way through stupid scenes. Or I’ll have a thought about “which character from another franchise would I imagine stuck in the Hinamizawa time loop?” The only one that really came to mind was Alan Wake, and I can’t really justify why. But at the time I just thought it was hilarious thinking of Alan just waking up being forced to deal with all the goings-on within Hinamizawa and just blasting someone away with his revolver. I should probably finish Alan Wake 2…

I do occasionally wonder if some of these confirmations are only there to make sure everyone is more or less caught up to speed? Based on previous interactions when Ooishi has Irie look at Tomitake’s body, did anyone really believe Irie actually knew nothing? Although, based on Irie’s internal monologue here I can’t help but wonder, when did they make H173? Going off of other information it must have been a relatively recent invention, because up until Takano and Irie started their research on it in earnest it was implied that there wasn’t much to go on in terms of Hinamizawa Syndrome. Just the research journals of Hifumi Takano, and precious little else. I believe they mention it towards the end of the chapter that the Clinic got a hold of the ringleader of the first dam murder, and they were able to do some research on the parasite that way, but I don’t recall them mentioning having a way to weaponize it at that point. So it must have been sometime between 1981 and 82, right? Or maybe I’m just pulling dates and times out of thin air, and I’m entirely off-base.

It’s true, in Meakashi/Watanagashi he does show up and interact more with Shion than he did the others. He also talked with Keiichi a bit, but he tried to get information from Shion after the disappearance of Satoshi Houjou.

I can’t help but wonder, in these timelines when Ooishi suspects Rika, does he actually think Rika did the deed? Or does he think she just ordered someone to carry it out for her? Perhaps maybe she had someone from the Sonozaki group carry it out? Because if it’s the former we all know that alternate universe Tomitake and Takano got away alive because Rika is a terrible assassin.

It sure is a wild coincidence though that Ooishi is instantly overcome with doubt about the situation with Takano and Tomitake. Professional skepticism for the fact that “Takano’s” body was in fact someone who died a day before it was found?

[688199]

shitty miraculous ramblings regarding the bibles

reading through the earliest bible version vs the one disney accepted. obviously there’s a lot of pointers but here are some i like to discuss.

in the early version, marinette has a clear goal as ladybug. it’s established right in the beginning that it’s her fault that the kwamis are loose, so she’s determined to solve her own problem. this gives her a reason to do what she’s doing, and also alludes to her sense of responsibility and righteousness. but at the same time, you can show that marinette genuinely enjoys being a hero because she can help people. thus, making her goal even more strong.

on the other hand, the latest version doesn’t state why marinette’s goal is to capture akumas. sure it’s because she’s ladybug, duh. but just “oh i want to help people!” is too weak of a reason imo. of course, this can lead to great development later on in which marinette struggles with the responsibilities of everything and questions why she decided to be a hero in the first place. but the current series doesn’t do that, i think? reading the origin story, it comes off as just “you’re the chosen one and you can’t do shit about it” and marinette is like: “aight idk bout this but ok.”

however in both versions, what marinette lacks is an internal goal/ conflict, what she needs to become a better person but is unable to due to mental obstacles.

sure she has flaws such as clumsiness, impulsiveness, self doubt, but it’s either there for comedic reasons and a lame way to drive a non existent plot, or doesn’t remain throughout the series as a proper challenge she needs to overcome. for example, if we expand on her insecurity, the series can explore how she constantly doubts her abilities when she fails to capture an akuma. how her confidence is just a mere facade to convince herself. and how she doubts chat noir’s love for her because she thinks her hero persona is fake. yet she battles through her negative thoughts to do what’s right. hey look, an admirable heroine who shows that she’s human too by having realistic struggles and not a dumb mary sue like canon marinette!

i also really like that felix has a disability. it gives him a clear goal, as well as a reason to why his character is as such. he’s not cold, just focused. but at the same time, he feels restrained by the expectations he places upon himself, unlike adrien, who has an outside factor physically restraining him. i think this makes for a more interesting story to tell (go fuck yourself thomas astruc, “felix isn’t interesting” MY ASS). but felix doesn’t have any ties with hawkmoth, his parents are just overseas all the time. in a way, i think it’s good? because one complaint about the series is that since adrien and gabriel are father and son but they’re also enemies as their aliases, it kinda overshadows marinette even though she’s the protagonist. and obviously this show is meant to be about ladybug AND chat noir, so in terms of character plot, they should stand equally.

and this god awful change they made makes me wanna bomb the houses of whoever decided the latter was better. in the early version, marinette falls in love with felix because she admires his skill, sensibility and determination. NOW? she loves him because he’s “good-looking” and “mysterious”. yet has a so called “soft side” which she loves. and because he gives her a god damn umbrella? do you not understand how shallow that is? the reason is as cliche as corporate romance anime, AND YET THOMAS ASTRUC SAYS FELIX IS THE CLICHE?!?!!!?! genuinely how?

it’s clear og marinette doesn’t place felix on a pedestal like how canon marinette does now (ahem “untouchable”). she admires him, sure, but not in a celebrity sort of way. oh and also, i really really love the fact her goal is to make felix smile and laugh, not as much “date him”. like it’s an after thought. “who knows, thanks to this, maybe he’ll fall in love with her one day”. that’s so wholesome 😞 it does bring more meaning to her actions such as giving him tickets. even though it’s technically a date, she really just wants him to enjoy himself away from his studies. isn’t that great? isn’t that a wonderful way to portray love to a younger audience? “if you truly love someone, it’s ok whether they reject you, as long as you make them smile.” is so much better than glorifying a creepy stalker.

AND SEE. LOOK AT THIS. i hate those miraculous dickriders who shit on the og ideas saying: “i’m so glad they didn’t go with the original. felix is so mean and cold towards marinette, it’s clear he hates her! adrien is so much better!” NO. FELIX DOES LIKE AND APPRECIATE MARINETTE. HE FINDS HER CUTE AS HELL. HE FINDS HER ATTEMPTS TOUCHING. HES JUST FOCUSED.

i’ll probably post more ramblings soon, regarding ladybug/ chat noir’s relationship, regarding other changes. i have a lot to talk about.

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers LOST EDEN ー Yuma Maniac [05]

Monologue

A little while has passed, since we came here to Rotigenberg. 

Even though we were starting to feel a little impatient,

while being kept waiting for a chance to talk to Kino-kun,

we had a clear reason for coming here.

ーー Second-rate Demons. 

We came to realize,

why exactly the Ghouls were given said name.

Despite being non-human, they do not have any kind of special powers. 

These people... They have no other choice,

but to endure this disability on a daily basis.

ー The scene starts in town

Lucks: Sorry for making you come with me.

Yuma: I don’t mind, really. Why did ya need to come to town exactly? 

Lucks: I’ve been put in charge of restocking of our supplies. We’re going to drop by various places to collect everything we need.

Yui: You each get a different task assigned? 

Lucks: Yes. Us Ghouls work together like that to sustain our society. ...We can’t go out in group after all.

Yuma: Aah? What do ya mean?

Lucks: Nevermind...Oh, this is the first store on the list. Let’s go inside. 

ー They enter a store

Shop owner: Welcome, come on in! What are you looking foーー Ah?

Yui: ( ...? His expression suddenly turned stern? )

Shop owner: You...You’re a Ghoul, aren’t you? Ghouls are forbidden from entering this store. Get out!

Yui: ...! No way...!

Lucks: It’s fine, miss. ...I am deeply sorry to cause you discomfort but there’s something I’d like from your store. Please?

Shop owner: I don’t sell my goods to Ghouls. If you won’t willingly go home, then...!

*SPLASH*

Lucks: Ugh...!

Yuma: Oi, bastard! He’s yer customer, isn’t he!? Ya might not be fond of him, but do ya really have to dump water on his head like that!?

Lucks: Yuma, stop! ...I understand. My apologies for the intrusion. 

ー They leave the store again

Yui: Lucks-san, are you alright...?

Lucks: I just got wet. This sort of thing happens all the time, so it’s no big deal.

Yui: All the time...?

Lucks: You can tell by how the people around us react, no? ...They all walk in a big circle around me. 

They’d rather not get too close to a Ghoul born from polluted air.

Yuma: ...Why not!? You’re no different from us two! That’s just plain discrimination!

Lucks: I’m sure you can only say that because you’re a good guy and we’re old friends.

Most people are ignorant and they fear that they themselves might turn into Ghouls as well if they get too close to us.

Yui: Is that possible...?

Lucks: Haha. If so, I wouldn’t be with you two right now. It’s all just a big misunderstanding.

Also...I guess they’re also just using it as an excuse to justify treating us worse than other species. 

Yuma: ...Why the fuck are ya bein’ discriminated against when ya haven’t done anythin’ wrong? That’s hella unfair.

Lucks: Guess so. But that’s what discrimination is all about, isn’t it? You should know that as well, Bear.

Yuma: ...

...I guess in that regard, humans and Demons are really no different. Bullcrap. 

Selection

→ Let’s resolve the misunderstanding (❦)

Yui: Let’s resolve the misunderstanding. This is...just sad.

Lucks: You really are a nice girl. No wonder Yuma chose you.

Yuma: She’s right. They’re gonna do as they please if ya keep quiet. ...Ya should know that as well, right?

→ It can’t be helped 

Yui: ( I guess this sort of thing happens anywhere. I wonder...if there’s nothing which can be done about it? )

Yuma: ...It’s bullcrap, but no way I’m lettin’ it happen. 

Yuma: Lucks, are ya fine with things stayin’ the way they are?

Didn’t ya tell me back then that all humans are equal and have the right to be free? 

I thought it was yer dream to change that rotten country? 

The current situation...is hardly any different from that. Yet you’re just gonna stand there in silence and watch it all happen!? 

Do ya no longer...give a damn...’bout yer ambition from back then...!? 

Yui: Yuma-kun...

( Yuma-kun has been trying to fulfill his dream this whole time. )

( I’m sure that’s because to him, his Boss...Lucks-san was someone he respected and valued more than anyone else. )

( I believe that’s why it so upsetting for him to see Lucks-san get treated poorly... )

Yuma: What’s yer answer, huh...!? 

Lucks: ...Don’t get the wrong idea, Bear. My dream hasn’t changed one bit.

I still believe that everyone should be equal. That’s why...I’ve chosen to side with Kino.

Yuma: ...The fuck? What do yaーー

Kino: Oh? If it isn’t Yuma!

So the two of you came back, huh? Are you sure it’s okay for you to be here? Is Eden doing okay?

Yui: ...! Kino-kun!

Lucks: Kino. You’re back?

Kino: I returned just now. By the way, I heard you wanted to talk to me, Lucks?

Lucks: Ah, about thatーー

Yuma: I’m yer man. Come with me, we need to talk.

Kino: Ehー? I don’t really mind but safe me any trouble, okay? I’m tired, you see. 

Yuma: Don’t worry. It’ll only take a couple of minutes if ya just fess up the truth already.

Kino: Haah...You should mind your language, you know? It makes your poor upbringing very obvious.

Oh well, I guess it isn’t very comfortable talking in the middle of the street like this. Come with me, I’ll show you the way to my house.

Yuma: ...This isn’t part of a plan to get us to familiar territory so ya can strike, right?

Kino: Who knows? I’m not going to force you to come with me but...There’s something you’d like to ask me, right?

Yuma: ...Che. Ya really know how to piss me off. Fine. I’ll come with ya.

Kino: Fufu. Well then, Lucks, you should join us as well. I’ll ask someone else to do the groceries.

ー The scene shifts to the entrance hall at Eden

Ruki: ...

Kou: Ruki-kun. Has Yuma-kun sent us a Familiar...?

Ruki: No. ...Even for Yuma, it is strange for there to be this little communication.

Kou: Then don’t you think that they could be in a situation where it’s impossible for them to contact us? In which case...!

Ruki: ...I suppose we should go look for them after all.

ー Azusa walks up to them

Azusa: Ruki...I went to investigate. It seems like the presence we’ve picked up on as of late are the Adler Clan’s troops after all...

Ruki: Are they close? 

Azusa: Quite, yes...I believe they might be waiting for the right opportunity to strike. 

Ruki: So it’s only a matter of time, huh...? I am worried about those two, but we simply cannot leave Eden right now.

I believe the Castle will be taken down from the second we leave it empty. 

Kou: ...Then what are we going to do!? They could be waiting for our help as we speak!

Ruki: I know. With that in mind...I am trying to think of a solution. 

Azusa: I guess us three just can’t handle it all on our own...

Ruki: Kuh...

Familiar: Ruki-sama, big news! That man...He has come here to Eden!

Ruki: That manーー ...? 

Monologue

Even while Kino-kun was showing us the way,

back to his manor, Yuma-kun and I,

witnessed various instances of Ghouls suffering from discrimination (差別)

Many people would stare at Lucks-san,

giving him nasty (罵り) looks,

even more so than they would at a human like myself. 

And the person who seemed pained by this whole situation,

more than anyone else

was Yuma-kun after all...

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

[chicknstripz]

∘₊✧ [[ Bake me a cake ]] ✧₊∘

Pairing|| GN!Reader X Corr Word Count|| 863 Tags|| Self-Deprecation, Self-esteem & Confidence issues, Disabilities, Fluff & Angst, Domestic Fluff, Slice of life, Suggestive theming, NSFWish. Synopsis|| Corr attempts to make you a cake, but his intrusive thoughts get the better of him 'Don't eat that' prompt for @clonexreaderbingo

The counter is an absolute mess! Flour covers every inch of space, egg is (somehow) splattered on the ceiling, and don’t even get him started on the sink! He despairs every time he looks at the pile of dishes, the shame and guilt eating him from the inside out, but he’s determined to perfect this maker damned recipe! Determined to show he can provide just as well as any other man!

But kriff, are the prosthetics making life difficult! The synth-flesh does not give the same kind of feedback as normal flesh.

He can’t tell if he’s applying the correct amount of pressure to the eggs, the splatter on the ceiling a testament to his struggle. Can’t grip the slick surface of your knives, the cheap synth-flesh not having the correct depth to either the skin or fingerprints to let him grip it properly. The kaminoans only cared that he could hold a gun, he was a soldier not a civilian, so what if he couldn’t cook for himself? He grumbled to himself as he narrowed his eyes, concentrating the whole time as he transferred the pan to the oven.

The consistency of the batter looks right this time, the surface rising in the heat of the oven, and the smell? It’s less eggy and more sweet - his nose flaring as the familiar scent of Uj fills the air. He won’t tell the sergeant that it took him five attempts, can’t even think of the latest failed attempt that still sits behind him on the counter. It’s flat - he knows it - the dense slab making his stomach churn as he starts to clean up his mess. Perhaps if he’s quick he can go to the bakery down the street and beg a worker to tell him what he’s doing wrong?

Alas fortune didn’t favor him.

You walked in the door with a sing-song ‘I’m home’, the sound of which filled him with dread rather than comfort. Not even your smile could appease his worried heart, his eyes watching you close the space between you. In his heart he knows he shouldn’t worry. You’ve never treated him any differently, never seen him as ‘less than’, but as he stands there watching your eyes light up at the sight of the cake? He’d never felt so useless in all his life. All he can think of is some Kaminoan slapping ‘defective’ on his file.

“Smell’s amazing in here, watch’a cooking?”

You speak around your key fob as you relieve yourself of your work satchel, the little quirk making his heart flutter despite his concern.

“Uj cake .... wait ... no! Don’t eat that!”

You’ve broken off a corner before he can stop you, the shameful product slipped between eager lips and chewed on in short order.

“Mmmmmm, that’s so good. The vanilla really adds to it.”

Wait! You liked it? But it was flat and horrible! He looked at the cake, to you, then back to the cake with the distinct feeling that you might be lying to him

“You don’t need to lie to me mesh’la, I’m a grown man - I can handle constructive criticism.”

You give him an odd look, brows furrowed as you lean your hip on the table.

“But I’m not lying. That’s the best cake I’ve had in weeks, like seriously.”

He watches you slip your fingers between your lips, enraptured by the way you clean the sticky coating from your skin. If he thinks hard enough he can remember what that felt like, his jumbled thoughts drifting between aroused and melancholic.

“Really?”

“Yeah really.”

The sensation of your damp fingers touching his face, palms cradling his head as you lean across the table to reassure him, is electrifying. He doesn’t like to use the words ‘touch starved’, hates the implication that he’s missed out on formative experiences, but sometimes? Just sometimes. He feels no better words describe the feelings in his body as he leans into your touch.

“I know you don’t always believe me cyare, but you’re kriffing amazing. The things you do for me? They mean so very much - especially on days like this.”

“Bad shift?”

You shrugged casually, as if what you’d faced was meaningless.

“I wouldn’t say bad, just busy.”

He knows what that’s like, or at least had. It had always been one thing after before he’d started special ops, the number of IEDs outstripping the hours he had to deal with them. Not that special ops was quiet either, but it was a very different beast to front line work and he at least got down time now. He’d had to thank Skirata for that. He’d have never met you if the wiry little chakaar hadn’t hand picked him to be Fi’s replacement.

“Then it’s a good thing there’s plenty more where that came from.”

Corr nods back toward the oven, earning a laugh from you that makes his heart sing with delight.

“There's more? Corr I could kiss you right now!”

“What’s stopping you?”

You continue to laugh as you throw yourself into his arms, the feel of your lips on his the only medicine he needed to cure the ills that plagued him. 

[sigridstumb]

Solidarity forever.

Okay, okay, I can't stand it anymore. Rant incoming. Workers of the world, unite. You have nothing to lose but your fucking chains.

I don't care what sort of job you have. You -- yes, you. Reading this. Us happy few, us band of brothers still trying to reach each other in this cursed and dying space. You, dear reader, you need a fucking union. Unless you are self-employed, find out if you have a union.

How do you know whether your job has a union? Well, there's a couple places to look. First, ask your H.R. department if your job has one. Second, ask a coworker. Third: dol.gov or: unionfacts.com/cuf/ Or, y'know, use a seach engine.

(Yes, this is U.S.-oriented, I don't know a damn thing about other countries and their labor stuff.) Why on earth do you need a union? BECAUSE COMPANIES ARE ENTITIES DESIGN TO EXTRACT LABOR FROM YOUR BODY AND GIVE THE PROCEEDS TO SHAREHOLDERS.

(Yes, this is U.S.-oriented, I don't know a damn thing about other countries and their labor stuff.) Why on earth do you need a union? BECAUSE COMPANIES ARE ENTITIES DESIGN TO EXTRACT LABOR FROM YOUR BODY AND GIVE THE PROCEEDS TO SHAREHOLDERS.

You, you wreck your body and your life and pour yourself into a job and distilled money is squeezed out the other end into the hungry maws of shareholders and owners.

Corporate profit is at a level well beyond what we have ever seen, and it's expected to keep growingmarketwatch.com

"The fact is that in the 1980s and beyond, public companies began embracing a very different idea as to the purpose of a firm:  the idea that the sole purpose of a corporation is to maximize shareholder value."

How To Fix Stagnant Wages: Dump The World's Dumbest Ideaforbes.com

Workers are EXPENDABLE COMMODITIES to companies. This has accelerated over the course of my lifetime and it is still going, a graphed j-curve straight into hell.

You need a union because you can be replaced. All of us, we can all be replaced. If we die or are disabled or get burned out or suffer moral injury or just quit, if we just fucking quit, there are scads of others of us who are desperate for that job. Yes, even the shitty jobs.

It's only when all the nurses, all the pilots, all the teachers, all the cafeteria workers -- it's only when all of a given pool of people in a region qualified to do a particular task all quit working TOGETHER, AT THE SAME TIME, that we can get companies to listen to us.

How do we stop the slow removal of young people, queers, women, BIPOC, disabled folks from really good jobs? (Not that they are FIRED, no, but, you know, they are just not a good fit for the company, right, the company wishes they would stop being so needy all the time, right?)

We stop that trend (tech, gaming, comics, journalism, I am fucking looking at YOU) by UNIONIZING. We stop that by saying that we, the workers, will collectively protect EACH OTHER.

How do we stop the firings of service workers on pretexts because the workers wanted to unionize? BY FUCKING UNIONIZING. Unions bargin for rules that protect workers, and then when those rules are violated the UNION fights for you.

I can't I can't -- I just cannot EVEN with how important this is. Every shitty job you've had where your manager treated you unfairly? You needed a union rep to report that manager to.

Every time you were let go because you got sick or just were pregnant, just had a damn kid, well, a union makes rules that allow you to have sick days, that protect you from being fired when you develop a chronic illness. (Or just have a kid, for chrissake.)

I just, I just, I just want you to know that you don't have to be alone. You are NOT alone. Management wants us all to be alone, to fight with each other for literal scraps, to fight each other over small differences. And the divisions they sow have worked for generations.The Silent Generation was the last truly strong unionized generation. Boomers and GenX, well, we did not defend our unions. And, well, Reagan broke the unions in 1981. He fired all the striking air traffic controllers and hired in folks, largely from the military, to work.

And the lesson folks learned was to play nice with management or else they might fire everyone and ask the government might swoop in and replace the workers. The P.R. trick was almost worse, though. Strikes in the 70s and 80s were all reported on as "stubborn workers refuse reasonable requests at jobs, continue to make your life a hell." And that is ALREADY what is happening with the strikes and labor actions today.

If we are mad and scared because of the strike, if we are scared of what happens to us without food, without healthcare, without medications, if we get mad because we are scared, it's all to easy to get mad at the people we see in the news, the folks on the picket lines.

Don't fucking fall for it, I beg of you. Do Not Get Mad At Strikers. Get mad at the corporations. Get mad at the rail companies who won't give a SINGLE paid sick day. Get mad at health care corporations who refuse to staff hospitals safely. Get mad at universities that won't compensate their employees with a wage they can live on. Get mad at companies.

Unions, workers, they are not arguing for unreasonable perks. They are BEGGING to be treated as human beings, with human needs and limitations. The packages you order are delivered by human beings who piss in jars and die of heat stroke, because a corporation demands it.

When one party is asking for be allowed to recover from covid and the other party inists that you work until you literally die at your job, it's not a negotiation. It's extortion, it's brutality, it's hostage-taking.

So join your fucking union. If you don't have a union, form a fucking union.

  nlrb.gov/about-nlrb/rig… 

If another set of workers unionize, support them.

When unionized workers engage in workplace actions, get mad at the companies that refuse to terms of basic human decency. Do not cross picket lines, not even virtually, if you can possibly avoid it. (I know this gets complicated.)

All of which is to say: 

"Is there aught we hold in common with the greedy parasite, Who would lash us into serfdom and would crush us with his might? Is there anything left to us but to organize and fight? For the union makes us strong."

[milkywaygg]

Confidential Affairs Chapter 6

AU belongs to @eripops. Sorry for the delay. Was caught on a wrier's block for a little bit. Hope u enjoy!

Around 5 that evening, Jules said goodbye to his parents before making his way to the bus stop, awaiting the next bus back towards downtown Fairy World. He felt as if he were on Cloud 9 as he sat on the bench, not caring about anyone staring at his pregnant belly around him. He just could not stop thinking about the wedding and all the amazing flowers that decorated the yard, imagining an aisle full of star flowers and roses as he held a bouquet of lilies as he walked down, Euphemia expecting him with a loving gaze in her eyes. His heart fluttered as imagined their wedding rings being placed gently on their fingers, while their lips interlocked as the new chapter in their relationship and their lives began.

Jules couldn’t understand how lucky he was to land a woman like Euphemia. One so strong and protective, yet soft and gentle when she wants to be. He longed so badly to be bridal carried all the way back to their apartment after the wedding, despite it being at least a good 50 miles two and from. There was just something so loving yet firm about her hands that every time they touched him, he couldn’t help but melt.

Seeing the garden made Jules forget about how odd Euphemia had acted all evening and instead, make him daydream about not only their wedding, but their future lives ahead? Would they settle for the one child Jules was about to have, or would they have more? Are they going to have a boy or a girl? Are they even going to be living in the same house if they chose to have more than one child? Jules wished he had enough magical strength to poof up a crystal ball and discover the answers for himself.

At long last, the bus finally arrived, the double doors opening with a semi-loud squeak. Holding his stomach steady, he climbed up the steps to find that the bus was much more crowded than it was this morning. Several fairies in business suits and tight dresses piled up on the seats, while others hung onto the handrails. Jules held his stomach as he tried to find a seat, luckily settling for the last open seat towards the back until suddenly, he felt a sudden force shove him from the seat.

“Excuse me! Ladies first! Don’t you know that?”, a familiar voice shot through him. Jules cursed under his breath softly as he turned around to see the lady that had almost assaulted him at the flower shop. Sporting a brown pixie cut with blond highlights, plum colored eyes, and chapped lips, Karen Deubal happily took her seat and crossed her legs, earning some looks from the surrounding passengers.

“Uh…I think he saw that seat first.”, a raven-haired man in a navy blue business suit said, unfolding his legs to reveal his own baby bump, a bit bigger that Jules had. Karen scowled at Jules quickly before looking at the man.

“Ok and?”

“And…he’s clearly pregnant. He needs this seat more than you do.”

“Well, if he needed this seat so damn bad, he should have sat his fat ass down faster!”, Karen’s harsh voice snapped, the insult making Jules wince. “He’s not even that big yet! He’ll be fine standing up! I had a long day from work!”

“That doesn’t matter! He needs that seat for his unborn child!”

“If you’re so concerned with him having a seat, then why don’t you give yours up!”

“Because I’m pregnant as well. Now get up and hold the rail so he can sit. You’ll be alright.”

“I…I-I…”, Karen stammered, his face slowly turning from red to purple, as if she were a rotting vegetable,“Well I…well how do you know I’m not disabled? I have arthritis, don’t you know?”

“You had no problems rushing to the seat and cutting in front of his young man. Surely you can’t be in that much pain.”

“I…Just mind your fucking business ok? And you,”, Karen snarled, looking back up at Jules, “You’re just the most selfish man I’ve ever met. First, you ruin my husband’s birthday and now you’re asking me, who believe it or not, have a DISABILITY, to move so your fatass can sit down, since you’re lazy!”

“Uhhh…Sorry? That definitely wasn’t what I was trying to do. I-I’m just trying to protect my baby.”

“Oh yea? If you want to protect that baby so damn bad, then where’s your wife? Why isn’t she here with you? Why ride the bus and take up people’s seats when your wife could just pick you up? Or does she not give a shit about you to do so?”

“I…well…I-I don’t really think that’s any of your beeswax.”

“Well it wouldn’t be if you had stopped trying to scam people of their seats.”

“Holy shit lady, will you back off him! He just wants to sit down. Stop being such a bitch.”, the vibrant pink-haired woman snapped next to her standing up, “Here sweetie, why don’t you have my seat? You look like you need it.”

“O-Oh! Thank you!”, Jules smiled at her, taking her seat as Karen rolled her eyes at him.

“Pssh…I don’t know why you bother. You’re probably just going to lose the baby anyways.”

At that moment, the entire back of the bus went silent as Karen’s words hit Jules like a huge boulder. Jules clutched his stomach protectively as he looked at Karen with disbelief, tears swelling in his eyes. The man next to Karen looked over at Jules sympathetically, wanting to scooch over and hug him.

“W-What did you say?”

“Well I mean, it’s obvious, isn’t it? You won’t even let your wife take care of you, how the hell is this baby going to survive.”

Before Jules could say anything, the pink-haired woman grabbed Karen close to her, her tall height forcing Karen’s legs to squirm and dangle as she carried her off the bus, holding her upside down as the two women screamed at each other. Karen’s screams to put her down went unheard as the lady kept dragging to one of the public restrooms, into the women’s stalls, Jules barely able to catch the lady stuff Karen’s head into the toilet, filthy water spilling out. Despite Karen being no longer present, Jules hugged his knees as tears started spilling from his cheeks, rubbing his belly and ignoring all the sympathy looks he got from most of the other passengers.

How could someone say something like that to a baby? HIS baby? Jules couldn’t help but keep crying all the way back home, his head pounding and spinning as if he were going to throw up. Not even bothering to throw on his pajamas, Jules collapsed in the bed, wishing he would have never stepped foot on the bus.

Sighing at the sun started to set and the lilac pink sky started to turn a bright coral, Euphemia decided to pack her resume up and teleport herself home. Unlocking the door with the tip of her wand, she walked in to notice that the lights were turned off in the house and Jules was nowhere to be found.

“Sweetheart? Are you home?”, she called out, earning no response, but rather a loud sniffle coming from their bedroom. Frowning, she placed her suitcase down on the couch and walked to the bedroom, her heart breaking as she watched Jules meltdown on the covers, his seaweed green hair frazzled and his reading glasses askew. “Darling, what’s the matter? Is the baby ok? Oh honey…please don’t cry.”

“I…no…the baby is fine…I hope…”, Jules sniffed, sitting up to hug his knees as Euphemia sat next to him, rubbing his back, “I went to visit my parents on the other side of town while you were away, a-and since I can’t teleport right now, I took the bus. Some lady said that I deserved to lose my baby.”

Euphemia couldn’t say anything, but rather felt as if she were about to explode. As she hugged her fiancé in her arms, her mind went to all sort of different scenarios. One where she chopped off the lady’s head, and another where she shipped her off to where the Anti-Fairies lived. Growing up, Euphemia couldn’t see eye to eye on much with her mother, but the one thing the two did agree on was that a woman’s role in marriage was to honor one’s husband and protect him from the cruelty of the world. To provide for him and to make sure he feels loved at safe. Looking at her watery mess of a fiancé, Euphemia couldn’t help but feel somewhat responsible for today’s events.

“What even happened?”

“S-She said that I tried to take her seat, and that she had arthur..art…I don’t even know how to say it. She said she had something!”

“What did she look like, by chance?”

“She had this pixie haircut, a-and she wore a dark purple shirt and black pants and..”

“Oh my fucking god..”, Euphemia groaned, remembering that look from the flower shop, “Was it that same bitch from the flower shop?”

“I-I think so.”

“Listen my darling.”, Euphemia said, grabbing Jules’ cheeks and wiping the tears of, “Whatever she told you is straight up bull. You deserve every good thing that’s happening to you right now, and I’m so lucky you’re in my life and about to be in the baby’s life.”

“I know…I’m sorry, dear.”, Jules sniffed, the tears finally stopping, “I-I don’t know what’s coming over me lately. I’ve just..been so stressed out and emotional…stuff like that usually doesn’t bother me but..that hurt.”

“I know..it’s ok to be upset. I’m here for you.”

“Oh..I really wish I could stop worrying you. I’ve been a real pain in the behind lately, and..”

“No you haven’t! You just need more care right now. That’s normal for a pregnancy.”, Euphemia said, squeezing his hand, “Please don’t say that! You’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met and I absolutely love taking care of you and our baby. Please don’t think you’re a burden. I would do anything for you.”

“Oh..”, Jules squeaked, “I think I’m the one who’s lucky darling. I-I really don’t know how you do it. All this constant stress with your work, bosses, parents, and everything. It’s crazy how you don’t crack under all that pressure like I do.”

“Ehh heh heh…yeah…”, Euphamia laughed nervously, remembering her failed attempt at job searching earlier, “But who else but I will make sure everything is taken cared of?”

“Euphemia?”

“Hmmm?”

“I…”, Jules said softly, now taking her hands into his, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything”

“Are you ok?”

“Uh..”, Euphemia jumped, the question catching her off guard, “Yes, of course I’m fine. I should be worrying about you! Not the other way around!”

“Well, it’s just..I noticed we have several overdue bills, and I don’t know. You’re usually on top of them, a-and you seem a lot more nervous than usual.”

“Uh…yea I’m alright. Just that work’s been piling up like crazy, and I’m behind on several projects, b-but I’m going to figure it out! Don’t worry.”

“You’re not hiding anything are you?”

“What? Of course not! I wouldn’t”, Euphemia said, kissing Jules on the cheek, “I don’t want you to worry about a thing, ok? Everything’s going to be ok. Just trust me.”

[thessalian]

Thess vs Burnout

I should have booked my upcoming week off for next week, not the week after next. When booking at least 50% of my annual leave (which HR demanded we all do by the end of June, possibly to stop Scruffman taking random half-days with no notice whenever he feels like it), I knew I needed a break fairly soon but I wanted to give as much notice as possible. Thus, first week in July. But I underestimated how burned out I currently am and I don’t know how I’m going to get through the rest of this week, never mind next week. Yes, I know tomorrow’s Friday; the point stands.

That whole “Violet does the long typing and Temp does the short typing” deal is still affecting me in unfortunate ways. I mean, it’s bad enough that Violet only takes them one at a time and works at them at a snail’s pace, which means I get a lot of them regardless of the supposed deal. Thing is ... Violet is elderly and a bit fragile, health-wise. She winds up being out sick a fair bit. But when she’s away, does Temp go, “Well, the deal’s moot since Violet isn’t here; I guess I’d better do some of the longer typing”? NOPE. Which is what it looked like today. There were many, many long ones, all by people who have no idea how to format the damn things, who do the “Oh, hey, could you go back to the first bit and add an important thing I forgot?” thing in the middle of the block key, and who also have no idea how to make sure their recording equipment is in working order. Two of the trickier accents in the building and they fucked up a setting so that it was using the built-in mic on their computers rather than their headsets and it sounded like they were talking at me from one end of a long tin pipe half-blocked by a three-week-old athletic sock. The problem is that I know how Scruffman feels about this; he has made it perfectly clear how he feels about it. How he feels about it is, “As long as I don’t have to do anything”. He doesn’t want to have to talk to Temp about this. He doesn’t want to have to police Temp about it. Most of all, he doesn’t want to annoy the one who is actively in the office who might give him dirty looks about it. Meanwhile, I’m the one who can’t take this shit because of a physical disability, but since he doesn’t have to watch me suffer, it’s fine.

Of course, shit continues being shitty in the rest of the world. Turns out the “We’re going to halve inflation by December 2023″ bull Sunak was spewing awhile back is ... well, just that. Interest rates have gone up to 5%, and odds are good that they’ll be raised to 6% come Christmas. But none of this is going to hit up the rich people, because all they’re going to do is protect their bottom lines by fucking the rest of us over. Landlords aren’t going to tighten their belts and pay the extra on their mortgages out of pocket; they’re going to raise rents even higher than they already are. As for supermarkets ... well, since the triple-whammy of Brexit, Covid, and Ukraine, the cost of actually producing the food and getting it from point A to point B has reportedly gone down but the prices in the supermarkets keep going up. They say they’re raising interest rates and risking a recession because inflation is such a bad thing, and I keep wondering ... why are you not pointing at the people who are causing it? People decide what everything is worth, and when that starts going up further than it should, you have to start looking at the people who set the fucking prices. And all of their increases are in the wrong place. If they just paid decent wages, more people would be able to buy the things they’re offering, and ... I mean, selling cheaply to many is a tried and tested way of doing business. It’s not huge profits, but it’s enough to keep going. The problem is that profit is not enough for these people. They not only want HUGE PROFIT, they want HUGE PROFIT now and EVEN HUGER PROFIT next year and ever-increasing. So they feed inflation by raising their prices to insane degrees, particularly if it’s a needful like ...you know, food. Meanwhile, to make their profit margins look even better, they understaff their workplaces, and underpay those few overworked staff they have. So the interest rate shit is all on them. But there’s going to be no windfall tax on the wealthy because apparently “that’ll just make inflation increase more”. Which is actually honest, given that the wealthy would raise their prices even higher and say, “We had to do it because of how much you’re taxing us! We’re losing money!!!”

They’ll lose a lot more when we can no longer afford to buy their stuff.

So the summary is that I am entirely burned out and everything is pretty depressing and I should have booked my week off for next week but I have to get through one more week of Temp’s bullshit before I can get enough rest to face ... well, this mess.

[kushimarutentacles]

So Raiga is my favorite swordsman, then Kisame, then Kushimaru, and then zabuza and the Hozuki brothers.

I think that for the time before Raiga met Ranmaru when he felt empty inside, he tried everything to fill that void. Killed people in different ways, tried different hobbies, did drugs, drank, and had sex.

I think this is how we got Buntan. While I can’t imagine him r@ping someone, I can imagine him having a one night stand or visiting a brothel. Which would be why he didn’t know about Buntan. I can see him having sex with this lady, and being like “hmm this isn’t working. On to the next thing!”

I get the image of him being really awkward, too, adding to why Bun’s mom hates him. Picture it: Raiga’s in a bar, drunk, moping to another random drunk dude about how he feels like he’s dead inside. Dude says something like “well, get yourself a woman! A good shag will fix you right up!” And raiga’s like “no cap??” And the next day attempts to seduce the first woman he sees. She probably is either thinking he’s so awkward and strange he’s cute or recognizes that he’s got the swords and agrees to sleep with him bc she doesn’t want to get zapped or stabbed. Either way, they get to a room and he’s like “okay, I’m a guy and you’re a girl and we’re naked… now what?” And she rolls her eyes and is like “ugh fine I’ll do it” and then after she falls asleep post frickle frackle he’s lying awake, staring at the ceiling like “well that didn’t work.” And just leaves. I doubt the ninja schools have a good sex Ed program so it’s possible he wasn’t even thinking about a child being a consequence.

(I know someone who was part of the Amish community that when she was 15 a boy convinced her that women couldn’t get pregnant their first time and she got pregnant and was tossed out of the community. So I think it’s a situation where he knew where babies come from but didn’t connect all the dots.)

Anyway, this man found an ailing child and, while having no experience in child care, was like “well shit I can’t NOT take you with me, can I?” And they figured out a dynamic that worked. I was a special Ed teaching assistant. Caring for children (and adults) with mobility disabilities is difficult. You add that Raiga didn’t have any classes like I did on how to care for someone like that, and it’s impressive to me that he successfully managed to not only keep Ranmaru alive, but he was THRIVING and loving life! Being a parent brought Raiga deep fulfillment, so I know DAMN WELL that if he knew Buntan existed at all, let alone that her mother at the very least mentally abused her by telling her she was worthless etc, he would have grabbed her up SO FAST and been like “look, a boy and a girl, I have a matching set!”

And as everyone knows, caring for children is expensive. Raiga figured that out pretty quickly I think. He knew he needed money, a stable place to live, and that usual Anbu level ninja work was extremely dangerous. It’s probably the only work he knew, and bc he was raised to be a murdering machine, he doesn’t think “oh well I could be a cashier at a ramen shop” like a normal person. He saw the opportunity to take over the gold mine and took it. It not only gave him the means to care for Ranmaru properly, he could safely keep him on his back at all times, and do his funerals.

I think if Tsunade would have come to the mine herself, she could’ve been like “okay, if you come the Konoha, work for me and stop the funerals, we’ll let you and Ranmaru stay together in the village.” And everything would have been fine.

TLDR: LIGHTNING MAN MAKE BRAIN GO BRRR

this is gonna be a long response so under the cut it goes!

i can't believe i've never CONCEIVED of sad drunk/druggie raiga. mix a sad boy with hallucinogens, oh noooo

i am very onboard with him not knowing the first thing about sex (him knowing it happens naked HKSNCBVNKJNGKJF that's such a good image)

IMO kiri did have sex ed, like people knew about sex and pregnancy because replacing the population was a BIG DEAL, but even so completely ignorant raiga is important to me. maybe it doesn't make sense but raiga's mind is a mess in so many ways.

imagining raiga trying TO SEDUCE A WOMAN IS SO FUNNY HDKFNGJHN he checks out a book from the library and learns about pickup lines. hey girl, nice eyes, he says. the girl just stares and he stares back because he figures she's got to say something at some point, he did the thing!

his relationship with ranmaru was a trainwreck but he did take care of that boy!!! he cooked food for him, which it didn't seem like people were doing beforehand! (it's amazing ranmaru survived long enough for raiga to pick him up--the villagers who were just like here's some cold potatoes and carrots young lad! ough the iron deficiency) so i love the thought of the mom, instead of keeping her a secret, gave buntan to raiga to raise bc she didn't care to. i feel like he would have been forced to be too responsible to go around holding funerals.

"he could safely keep him on his back at all times" you're making me think about how weird it must have been for people to see him before and after ranmaru--hey buddy? you uh. you got a little something on your back there. do you think you need to go to the doctor?

i couldn't imagine konoha taking in a rouge nin at that point, because the protocol for rogue nin was pretty hard set, but i love the thought of them being around more >W<

and for the record, here's how I think Buntan's conception happened: her mom was a prostitute around Katabami, and Raiga's little clanmates were going to her brothel all the time so he decided to check it out. he only went once and cried afterwards, sex was so unpleasant for both him and the lady. she already hated him for being the leader of all these obnoxious men who keep coming around, but when she got wind of the funerals she was horrified. and then she found out she was pregnant and it was a no-win situation whoever the father was, but then the baby came out with the double-ringed blue eyes and it was such an oh no. she drank, she kept everything about raiga a secret other than that he was worthless because she was afraid if bun knew anything more she would really turn out like him. unfortunately this opened the door for shizuma to bamboozle her with talks about what a hero her dad secretly was and how she's carrying on his legacy. it was a trick! it was bait! run, buntan!!

Another really interesting theory to me is one made i think by forgivememadre, that raiga was in an unhappy arranged marriage in kiri!!! AGHH i conceptualize him as literally having lightning god ancestry, bc i love kiri nin being descended from spirits and other creatures, and kiri wanting to continue that lineage makes sense to me. ough.

he makes my brain go brrr too. he has a permanent apartment in there -w-

[sunnisurrealism]

Hi everyone I just want to give an update on my well-being. Today I realized I didn’t send in a consent form to BC Pharmacare and that’s why my coverage wasn’t working, but I called, they told me what to do, and I found the form. This is good because my psychiatrist said i their was an error. So now there shouldn’t be any issues with me obtaining Person With Disability Status and the following monthly stipend and health care benefits.

I am coming to boundless realizations and I am going through a rage mode. I am quite sure I have severe adhd but I have not been assessed. Every single day is an immense struggle of being organized. I have a billion thoughts that I cannot simply get out without feeling like I have to write a whole series of books. Thus, my state is endless restlessness. I feel like Paul, but I know I’m not alone in my destiny like he kinda is. Don’t worry I’ll delete this later. Im not genuinely pissed at anyone in particular, for that would be pointless. I understand that my secret fans know I am a kind person at heart. Quite deeply. Sometimes I need to vent. It’s just that, I can’t afford to not express myself in fear of upsetting my secret fan(s) you Timothée because they cannot help me. Once I have more money and not chronic financial insecurity I won’t be constantly so on edge. I wish my adhd didn’t get in the way so much, and I wish I could go on meds for it but I can’t cuz I’m bipolar. Please never expect anything from me except mail on our birthdays. I cannot stand the pressure and it greatly impedes on my ability to function, which make it no point. I’m not pissed at you Timmy at all you are literally a baby Angel boi. I’m sad MB stopped replying but I’m assuming it was to protect me against my own manic uncontrollable thoughts and tendencies. I respect trust and understand. I’m mostly pissed I have no schedule in my life, which I will work on once I get back from my next trip to Victoria job I see the psychiatrist again. I’m pissed my life is neverending chasing appointments and the beaurocratic system of the government. I often wish I had my own personal assistant to help me because I am so so so overwhelmed I just end up ruminating my life away and failing to eat.

I know the real core of my issue, which is quite obviously, desperation for contact with My Dearest Love Felix. I constantly feel like I’m drowning in an ocean of jaded confusion without him. I’m annoyed when he doesn’t show up in my dreams when I’ve tried. I’m so god damn annoyed that I don’t know the real him and contextually speaking what his sexuality is like. I don’t know if there is hurt feelings or guilt but from that Coldplay song I assumed there was. I am really sorry, but also know I haven’t done anything wrong. it’s painful beyond comprehension in my little brain not knowing what in him is happening. I know though that he conceptually understand that he needs to be my rock, even from afar. Because my disillusionment levels are higher due to not knowing him and im not PR trained to become famous. This sounds so savage but I really really really need him to be stronger than me. At least in this way this story is gender normy. I definitely have a savior complex with him, although during May I saw myself as his Angel savior because he had been waiting so long. Sometimes Chani comforts Paul and Paul Chani. 🧜🏻‍♂️

The more that my secret fans help to accelerate collective transcendence in the name of social surrealist level global compassion IMMEDIATELY STARTING NOW. I don’t think all of us are taking this seriously enough… The more they lift the burden off me in the future. I know this sounds self-centered, but I am fully committed to the biggest dream theoretically possible on earth which if overcoming all systems of oppression. Not only because of the potential rewards, but also because it is what my heart genuinely wants to do when I become famous. Lots of hella people already align with this dream for humanity, I would say everyone actually. But we have to take it so so so much further if we are to address the climate change and i sustainability problem. And it also is the secret key to the mating crisis because emotional intelligence characteristics are evolutionarily advantageous 🌺this path of humanity expanding empathy is extremely obvious, it has always has been and forever will be. Those who don’t align just have broken hearts, which is another reason for the acceleration of compassion. The way thru is not going to change. It’s just the story of humanity.

I do not understand what is happening in the empathetic telepathy / quantum entanglement thing, but it was never going to always be good. At least it’s interesting 🍿

[creepycassidy]

. I'm sure you can already guess who it is but I've come for your macready nectar bc you absolutely nailed his shitty personality <3 If you're willing to write more for him, I think it'd be interesting to see how much he changes after the film; assuming he lives at all

I hope you don’t mind, I wasn’t sure if you wanted a one-shot or HCs so I decided on headcanons!! I personally think that he or Childs didn’t live after the events of the film, but for the sake of this I think it would be interesting to explore. :) if you’d like more, or specifically a one shot based around these, don’t be afraid to send in an ask. I hope you enjoy!!

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R.J. MacReady Post-Film HCs

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Warnings: Alcoholism, Depression, PTSD, Injury, body horror, just very bleak themes in general.

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Read below the cut!! ⬇️

After He and Childs had been airlifted out, it was a miracle that Mac had survived.

Childs wasn’t so lucky, although Mac would say otherwise.

Hypothermia had set in and frostbite developed over several portions of his body by the time he was found.

He’s not really the same Mac that you knew and loved beforehand.

Please, stick by him anyway. Mac wouldn’t ever say it, but you make the unbearable days somewhat bearable.

He’s lost a couple of fingers and the toes on one of his feet along with the tip of his right ear.

The scarring on his face is the worst of it all. His beard does a good job of hiding a lot, but you can still see the red, deep pitted and bulging scars on his cheeks, lips, and nose.

Truthfully, he doesn’t know how someone as wonderful as you stands to look at it all. He can hardly look at it himself. All it does is serve as a bitter reminder of that shit-show.

His drinking habits have worsened, as impossible as that seems.

Even if you ask him to slow down or stop he doesn’t care.

“Well, I deserve a god damn drink, don’t you think!?”

There is always a flamethrower in the house. Always. Doesn’t matter how many years it’s been since the incident, he can’t just forget it that easily.

Anything can put him on edge, so you have to be careful.

He won’t go around dogs anymore. Alaskan Malamutes, of course, are the worst.

Mac let his pilot’s license expire long ago, he just doesn’t have the desire to do it anymore.

Most of his days are spent drinking and eating take out in front of the TV. Money comes in well enough by disability checks due to being diagnosed with PTSD along with the injuries.

Snuggle up to him for a movie, tell him you still love him/care about him. He won’t say anything, but you’ll know how it really makes him feel inside.

It’s obvious in the way he swallows around the lump in his throat, his jaw clenching up. Mac won’t let you see him cry, but if you look close enough you can tell how hard he’s trying not to.

The nightmares and night terrors are horrible.

You shouldn’t wake him up during them, so just let them pass.

The shit his mind conjures up in the middle of the night is enough to make him sick.

They always start out as relatively normal dreams, like waking up and heading to the bathroom. A scratchy throat, but nothing to worry about. He’d look in the mirror, opening his mouth wide to asses the damage in the back of his throat. His eyes would widen in horror as red, razor sharp tendrils clawed their way up his throat, ripping through his esophagus and suffocating him. The realization that he’d been infected the whole time with The Thing simply lying dormant inside of him would hit as his head began to pressurize. His eyes bloat, cooking in their sockets. Just like Palmer’s had.

That’s when he usually wakes up, right before he finally splits apart in a vermillion mess.

Sometimes he’s easy to console, other times not so much.

Just be patient with him. He’ll never feel like the MacReady he did prior to winter of 1982 but with your help he can have some good days.

Good days with laughter, board games, and all of the teasing and bullheadedness of the man that you remember.