#i dont think i can hang out in there can we get it to go

[literaila]

Hey, I don’t know what you make of love triangles but I’ve always wondered how Typical Family would look like if reader once had a “not so obvious” crush on Geto and the two almost looked like a couple except Geto only saw her as a friend and Satoru doesn’t actually start to “see” reader until he sees how broken up she is after Geto’s betrayal. Kind of looks like the thing between Sasuke/Sakura/Naruto (ahem Except Sakura takes the less toxic path). You don’t have to indulge in this nor does it have to be canon to your original story but I’m just curious 🌚

now i dont think satoru was ever jealous of suguru because 1. suguru is all-knowing and 2. suguru is a literal big brother to you and there is only platonic admiration there.

but. you know who satoru is jealous of? nanami kento.

okay, there’s really no arguing—the boy needs a haircut.

he also needs to stop letting you hang off of him, and taking you out to dinner (because you find his interest in food a bit bizarre, and funny), and making you laugh all of the goddamn time.

satoru may be the strongest, the prettiest—but he has the disadvantage of being older than you. it’s not often yaga sends the two of you somewhere together—or any of the first years with the seconds.

and it’s just not fair, okay?

the only reason you even train with satoru is because he’s the only person who can see your technique, the only one who has a fair fight.

in fact, the only reason satoru gets to hang out with you at all is because you like everyone else. your classmates like suguru and shoko—and tolerate satoru.

and maybe it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth when he sees you standing a little bit too close to nanami. maybe it makes him feel like his world could collapse—disappear—right in front of him.

he does not want to endure being subjected to your schoolgirl crush on a boy who can’t even be bothered to cut his hair. and what would you see in him anyway? are brown eyes preferable to his outer-worldly blue ones? is satoru’s hair just not yellow enough?

…is nanami your type?

all of this to say, it’s definitely not satoru’s fault that he just accidentally threw nanami across the courtyard.

it’s the boys fault, obviously, for daring you to wish him good luck, for saying something so funny before they began that his smug face is still so pleased from making you laugh.

it’s not satoru’s fault.

but he does realize his mistake when instead of aweing over him like he’d wanted—you rush to nanami.

satoru is standing there, a rare frown on his face, looking down at his hands like they’re going to give him some answers.

“are you taking your anger out on the first years, now?” suguru asks, dryly, looking over to where you’re checking nanami’s pupillary response.

“don’t know what you’re talking about,” satoru grumbles, feeling even more betrayed.

what does that kid offer than he can’t?

“you know you could just talk to her, right? you don’t need to beat nanami up to prove a point.”

“if he wasn’t so weak i wouldn’t have—“

and then you’re walking back to them, nanami’s arm slung over your back as you half carry him. his face is already puffing up. “where’s shoko?”

you give him a look with unbridled rage. satoru can already feel the scolding coming on.

“i think she had a meeting with yaga, or something,” satoru answers, giving you his best innocent look.

it does nothing.

suguru inspects nanami. “do you need help?”

“no,” you frown at the boy hanging on you and sigh. “i’m taking him to the infirmary. i don’t know where yu went, but if you see him will you tell him that we left?”

“sure.”

suguru nudges satoru. “uh, yeah. we’ll tell him.”

you nod sternly at them both. “thank you.”

and then you’re walking away, even closer to nanami than you were before.

satoru is already pouting. it doesn’t take much.

“you’re stupid, you know that?”

“he asked me to—!”

“he wanted to learn. not get a concussion for no reason.”

satoru waves a hand. “he wont even remember it tomorrow.”

suguru is smirking at him, looking like he knows something that satoru doesn’t. “because he has brain damage?”

“because shoko will heal him.”

suguru only shakes his head. “i’m going to find haibara. he probably got lost again.”

satoru nods but remains there, with his arms crossed.

seriously, nanami kento of all people?

*

meanwhile, you’re lugging kento up onto one of the tables in the infirmary, feeling like you should’ve forced gojo to carry him the whole way.

you would’ve—if the sight of him didn’t make you want to rip your hair out.

…for a multitude of reasons, of course.

“okay. you okay? how’s your head?”

“bruised.”

you snort, pushing his hair back so you can see the black eye that’s already developing. at least it won’t get the chance to turn purple, you think.

“i’m sorry. i don’t know why gojo did that.”

kento laughs, leaning again away from your hand. you wonder if it’s his possible concussion, or if what you said was really all that funny.

you’ve only gotten him to laugh like… three times.

“you can tell him that i’m not interested in stealing you away.”

“gojo?”

he nods.

“why would i tell him that?”

nanami’s eyes closed. he looks like he’s aged years in the last hour. “are you naturally ignorant, or are you trying to distract me?”

you cross your arms. “what do you mean?”

“whatever’s going on between you and that white haired freak, just leave me out of it.”

“going on? there’s nothing going on. gojo is just an idiot—“

“seems like it’s spreading.”

“are you sure you’re okay, ken? i think you’re going crazy.”

nanami sighs. you can practically see his eyes rolling under his eyelids. “where’s shoko?”

you look around, biting your lip. “i don’t know… i thought she’d be here by now. i’ll go check the classrooms.”

he nods.

“don’t fall asleep, okay? i mean it.”

“just hurry.”

and you turn around the door, more questions running through your head than when you walked in.

*

satoru is still standing there, contemplating his life choices (of which there have been few) when you’re running back across the courtyard.

but you slow as you near him, your eyes filled with intent.

and maybe he was waiting for this.

“you asshole,” you say, hitting him on the shoulder—which he allows because any moment of you touching him is one that satoru wants to savor. “what were you thinking?”

he stands there, completely still, for just a moment more. you’re here now. with him. who’s with nanami then?

still, he shrugs. “i just forgot how weak he was.”

“oh, you forgot? you forgot that it was training and kento isn’t some special grade curse you—“

“is he dead?”

“what? why would you say that?”

“if he was really a special grade curse he’d already be dead.”

“you’re so arrogant,” you grind out, shaking your head at him. “and reckless! kento probably has a concussion.”

“then why aren’t you looking after him?”

“i—what?”

“why are you here yelling at me,” satoru gestures to himself, a grin forming on his face. “instead of making sure that he’s okay?”

“i—“ your mouth opens. then closes. “i went to go look for shoko and i didn’t think that you…” you shake your head again, frowning.

satoru just smiles at you.

he likes you a bit flushed and angry anyway.

“stop smiling at me like that!”

“what? i’m not allowed to smile now?”

“no. after today you’re not allowed to do anything. you’re lucky i’m such a good person or else you’d be six feet under—“

“you expect me to believe that you would actually kill me?”

“if i didn’t have a moral obligation, yes.”

satoru laughs.

“shut up,” you say, hitting him again. “i’m angry enough that i could do it.”

he shakes his head, slinging his arm around your shoulder. he has to make up for all of the time that nanami got to cling to you—has to repossess this, or he might go insane.

“that’s not why i’m laughing.”

“get off of me.”

“you wouldn’t kill me,” satoru whispers, right in your ear, delighting in a shiver that you can’t hold back. “even if you could. you like me too much to do it.”

you push him off of you, scowling. “i do not like you—“ you insist, only slightly breathless. “you just beat up my friend for no reason.”

“friend?”

you scoff, crossing your arms and looking up at satoru like he’s a demon sent straight from hell—just to torment you.

have you ever looked at nanami like that?

no, satoru thinks, you haven’t.

“yes, friend,” you repeat, rolling your eyes, “i know you’re unfamiliar with the concept but really. why is everyone acting so weird today?”

satoru’s grin is almost blinding. there’s no one else you get so worked up over. no one else who you would pause just to yell at.

“c’mon,” he says, instead of answering. he pushes himself back onto you, pulling you close by your waist. “i’ll look for shoko with you. you can tell me about how much you like me on the way.”

“gojo satoru, i will still murder you—“

[woso-dreamzzz]

heres half the next part of the horrid injured bambi's version!!!

“Hola Jaume.” Bambi could feel her voice shake as she spoke into the phone. Sure she didn't speak to Alexia or Olga but she did talk to her brother on occasions ,like birthdays and christmas , or when the other needed just someone to talk to. Yes Alexia lost Bambi as a daughter doesn't mean Jaume lost his sister.

“What's up with you? You sound off,” Bambi can hear the sounds of what sounds like a kitchen in the background, Jaume awkwardly shuffling, the gas hob turnt on, a few curses here and there. 

“Yo swap to facetime?” Jaume had never seen Bambi upset, sure he's seen her emotional, the time he was visiting her and James took his first steps or the time Olivia babeled his name but he's never seen her cry. When she accepts the facetime request he's shocked. Bambi Clinton was crying but not only crying but sobbing.

But she was silent?

Jaume was horrified by the sight of Bambi. The woman sobbing into her sleeve, barely being able to catch her breath. The only indication she was crying was the free flowing tears. 

“Woah bambi que necesito respirar si us plau respira. On és tothom? On és Gràcia? On són els nens?”

“James… hospital…arm…inside.” The woman blubber she can feel her chest get tight 

“Bambi respira així d'accord?” he quickly places his phone on the counter leaning against Olgas purse and amplifies his chest movements “Igual que aquella Bambi”

As Bambi gulps in air she starts to remember the small details she's in her car: the seat itches the back of her thighs, the joints in her fingers feel stuck she realised how quiet it was. “Español No puedo imaginar la idea del catalán en este momento …” Bambi pants.

Jaume sees his sisters head fall on the steering wheel and a deep sigh leaves her lips “Por supuesto, hermana. Ahora bien, ¿qué pasó?”

“James se rompió el brazo. ¿No es agradable que el hueso sobresale? todavía está en la piel, pero como” she points her two pointer fingers together to make a triangle  to show the angle of James’ bones.” We just pulled into the hospital and it's the one where I had Liv. You would think I'm over it but I'm not, I still feel it, I still feel their hands, I still feel the blade, I still feel her being pulled out. The worst part of all Alexias hands I feel the most is her hands are the heaviest. It's been 11 years since I've had Liv and even longer since we were in the hospital and I still feel her hands all over me.” Bambi mumbles ashamed she lifts her head up and down again 

“Wait bambi gi-” 

Jaume quickly turned of the hob that had started to boil over and move it to a cooler part of the oven top

“Right go again i almost burnt down my house” he lets out a cheeky laugh and quickly picks up the phone to show his sister. 

“You really are your mothers son.” Bambi laughs an actual laugh that lets out a few happy tears, as her eyes capture a photo of Jaume and Alexia on the wall, it's off her contract extension from around 2024 its him on her hip and alexia looks genuinely happy, happier than she looked in any picture with bambi, why couldn't alexia just love her?

“Yeah well you're also mami’s daughter. So what does that say about you?” Jaume could not stop the sentence from falling from his lips; he felt the panic bubble inside him, the same panic that had once settled in Bambi but instead of hanging up Bambi was quick to add her own comment.

“I mean i dont abandon my fucking kids so?” Bambi finishes and hangs up; she feels something boil inside of her anger? Resentment? Pain? Longing? She can feel her phone vibrate most likely Jaume calling her back, that was one of Jaumes traits he must have the last word, the last one to say bye on a phone call or leaving the house, even in an argument he always must have the last word. 

______________________________________________________________

“Mum? Where's Mami?” Olivia asks sweetly holding a diet coke in her hands and occasionaly rolling it over her forehead in the July heat, Grace looks over to the girl and just can see the spit of her grandfather but also seeing the hints of the woman her wife tries to forget, it was some twisted fate really Bambi having to give birth to the daughter Alexia wanted, Alexia deserved.

“Isnt she with you sweetheart? I swear I saw her walk in with you?” Grace questions holding her own diet coke, “did she not go on a walk with Abuelo?” 

“No silly mum, Abuelo went for a walk to call Abuela and asked you to get her but you were with James but you were fussing over him so you might have forgotten? But that's okay mami always says us children come first.” Olivia replies by taking small sips from her coke after finally cracking it open.

“Shit” grace whispers her eyes quickly flashing down to her apple watch to check the time theyd been there 25 minutes and no one had realised Bambi wasnt here. Quickly Grace types into her watch 

Mi amor, where are you? We are looking for you. Xxx

Not even a minute later Bambi replies;

I was just in the car called Jaume, told him what happened and had a little chat Xxx

I've been rereading this a little bit and I'm just thinking about things:

Bambi being Bambi Clinton? Definitely. Bambi's gone from Bambi Putellas to Bambi Putellas-Hermoso to Bambi Clinton.

And then her having a near panic attack and rejecting Catalan during it. Thinking about how Bambi's kids don't speak Catalan, not really anyway because Bambi's always prioritised their Spanish and their English over it.

Also Jaume propping his phone up on Olga's purse either means he's still living at home with his mums or they're visiting him and are potentially still in his house.

Bambi having medical trauma as a child and then having medical trauma during an emergency c-section with Livy.

Jaume being peak little brother energy and accidentally putting his foot in his mouth and not thinking before speaking.

Olivia being the epitome of what Alexia once fantasised Bambi would be and Bambi being her mother is peak gut-wrenching but still her insistence that the kids always come first

[bugmistake]

i love my mom ......

[puppyeared]

is this your card? ♦️♣️♥️♠️ it isnt but you dont wanna hurt his feelings

[luck-of-the-drawings]

smth smth about 'the thing that the character did that you thought was rly rly funny in the moment is actually linked to a terrible trauma that lies within said character.' or wahtever.

[lunataurora]

forever amazed and confused at how often transformers franchise just straight up depicts suicide attempts. like not even considering the superhero trope of "i have to save everyone!!! by choosing to die!!!!!" thing. like. non-allow-yourself-to-die-to-stop-a-thing-from-killing-everyone-immediately type situations. which tbh i wish more ppl talked about but not the point here

like. sure mtmte, a comic abt mentall illness and war, i expected it to be aware of the concept. but its not handled well and mostly used for shock value or "im better now i swear! i have a husband and everything" BUT ITS IN THE KIDS SHOWS TOO??? MY BESTIE G1 RODIMUS?? BEAST WARS DINOBOT???

[oatbugs]

pls i need to provide updates

[godsfavoritescientist]

Building off of what I wrote in my fic "Sparks," I'm really compelled by the idea of Ford genuinely no longer being interested in sailing around in a boat with Stan by the time they were seniors in high school.

I like the idea of it not being just a symptom of the resentment that had been building between them, nor it being a dream of Ford's that only paled in comparison to west coast tech, but it being a genuine loss of interest on Ford's end. I think it complicates things even further in some really juicy ways.

Like, imagine going through high school slowly losing more and more interest in the dream you've shared with your twin and only friend ever since you were little kids. How do you break it to him? How do you explain it to him without making it sound like a rejection of him? Without it making him hate you?

How do you explain it without it feeling like a spit in the face to all the hard work he's put into a plan that started out as a way of him comforting you by telling you "it doesn't matter what people say about you, you're going to be an adventurer who sails away into the sunset and never has to hear their mockery ever again, and there will be babes and treasure and heroism, and then they'll all see how cool you really are!"

And all through high school you think to yourself, "he's going to move on to more realistic dreams any day now, and then I won't have to say anything about it!" But no matter how many times you mention something else he could do with his life that he seems interested in, or bring up the challenging logistics of traveling around long-term in a boat, he sounds just as committed to the childhood dream as ever, and completely oblivious to how apprehensive you sound.

So resentment grows, little by little. Because that's easier than confronting the soul-crushing levels of guilt that are building up inside of you, every time you don't take an opportunity to tell him you don't want to do the plan anymore. You don't have a single person in your life who modeled how to have difficult conversations for you. As far as you know, having this conversation with Stan would crush him into tiny little pieces and then he would hate you forever, and you can't stand the idea of losing the only friend you've ever had.

So tensions grow. A lack of interest turns into a bitter resentment that, if you were really being honest with yourself, is directed more at yourself than it is at Stan.

And then the falling-out happens, and it seems like you were proven right. Stan hates you now, and he's never going to forgive you for giving up on his dream. But two can play that game, so you try to hate him too. Because if you hate him too, then maybe it won't hurt as much that he never came back. That he never even turned up at school, or by the boat, or in through your bedroom window in the middle of the night. He knows what dad's like, and how he says impulsive exaggerated things when he's angry, and haven't you both dealt with his harsh words countless times before and been able to dust yourselves off and joke about it later? So why isn't he back at home, joking with you about how absurd your dad acted that night, being impossible and belligerent about ruining your dream, but at least now you're even, because you've ruined his dream too.

-

And now imagine you find out he risked the lives of everyone in existence to bring you back, right after you had accepted your fate was to die killing Bill. It would be terrifying and confusing and infuriating. If he cared so much, why didn't he do something to reconnect with you sooner? Why did he ignore you in favor of trying to make it big without you? Why didn't he take the infinitely safer and simpler action of reaching out to you without you having to track down his address and send a desperate plea for help? You were convinced that he didn't care enough to bother with you unless you had an important enough reason for him to come. But even then, he thought your plans were stupid. He didn't want anything to do with you, not even with the world at stake.

Did he save your life out of guilt? Does he pity you that much? It doesn't add up with what he did in the decade leading up to shoving you into the portal. And the dissonance between the version of him in your head that hates you, and the man who held out his arms to welcome you back to your home dimension, is so strong that you feel like you're being lied to again, like you're back in the depths of gaslighting and manipulation that Bill put you through, even though there's no way that's what Stan is trying to do... right? You can't figure it out, so you run away from it. You don't want to know the answer to whether or not Stan hates you, because you don't know which answer would hurt more, so you try to make him hate you more than ever, because at least then you would know for sure how he feels.

And in the end, after he sacrifices his memories for you, and for the world, things seem clearer. The layers upon layers of confusion and anger and hurt seem to have washed away like drawings in the sand, leaving behind the simple truth: that you two had an argument, and didn't move past it for forty years, and despite everything you put each other through, you both still want to re-connect.

So you sail away in a boat together.

And at first, it's wonderful. It's exactly what you want. It feels like an apology to Stan, and a thank-you for saving the world, and a once-in-a-lifetime chance to heal the rift between you two, and it's good to be back on earth, and you wonder why you ever doubted the dream you two once had.

But then, after the first long journey you spend on the sea together, when you get back home to dry land, Stan is already talking about planning your next adventure out on the open sea. He recaps every adventure you had on the first trip, over and over again, and he wants to chat with you all through the morning and long into the night, and you don't have the words to explain to yourself that you don't have enough social battery for this, and suddenly you're slipping back into the horrifyingly familiar feeling of Stan being overbearing and needing space from him and how could you think that? How could you think that about him after everything he's done for you and everything he's forgiven you for? But the longer this goes on, the more you realize that you still don't want to spend the rest of your life sailing around with Stan. It's great fun in moderation, but the idea of your whole life revolving around Stan and going on adventures with Stan and being in a boat with Stan with no time to be by yourself thinking about your own things and figuring out your own dreams makes your skin crawl with a claustrophobic kind of panic that you still don't know how to put into words forty years after the first time this feeling grabbed you by the throat and ruined your friendship with Stanley.

But the first time this happened, it nearly ruined his life forever. You can't let yourself feel this. You don't feel this. You're happy to spend the rest of your life fulfilling Stan's lifelong dream, and making up for the time you crushed his dream, and sure, maybe he crushed your dream once too, and maybe it would be nice for him to support your dreams like you're now doing for him, but you can't say that. He saved the universe, and it would be horrible and ungrateful and cruel for you to try to voice these feelings, especially when you don't know how to voice your feelings without it making other people feel like you twisted a knife into their gut. So you try to pretend the feeling isn't there.

You go out on a boat with Stan again. You planned out another incredible journey together, and this should be fun, and you should be happy about this, but the unspoken feeling you shoved as far down in yourself as it could possibly go is eating you alive. The worst part? Stan is starting to notice. You have never been good at hiding your emotions. The trick to it has always been to convince yourself you don't feel it at all, and not think about it, and that has always worked like a charm. But whenever the emotion claws its way back up to the forefront of your mind, you can tell Stan knows something is wrong. So you can't even give him the happy ending he deserves. You can't even convince him that you want to be here on the open seas forever with him, like he deserves. And you keep trying and trying to hide it, but Stan keeps asking in roundabout ways, like "You're being awfully quiet, sixer," and "whats that look on your face?" and eventually it comes exploding out of you like a shaken-up soda bottle dropped on its cap.

And then it's like you're back at home in New Jersey again, standing in the living room while dad grabs Stanley by the shirt. It all comes pouring out of you, in the worst possible way, with the worst possible phrasing, like a pandora's box of monstrousness, and Stan tries to fight back against the sting of your words, but you're made out of acid and you're burning through him and you can see it on his face, and there's never any coming back from this, not this time, you'll just have to either jump into the ocean or become a monster forever, so Stan can hate you more easily again, and-

-and at the end of the outburst, you're still on a boat in the middle of nowhere in the ocean with your brother, in dangerous waters, and you have things to do to keep the boat running smoothly.

You can't run away from him. He can't run away from you. You're stuck here for at least a couple more weeks, even if you turned around and sailed back towards shore right away.

-

And the thing that compels me so much here, despite how unbelievably angsty it all is, is that it sets up a situation wherein the Stans might end up forced to actually address the decades of resentment and confusion and wanting-to-reconnect-throughout-it-all that they thought they could gloss over and heal with enough time spent adventuring together on a boat. They might end up forced to actually address the crux of the issue that drove them apart in the first place: Ford wanting a little more space to feel like his own person, and to feel like he's able to have his own dreams, too.

It wouldn't happen easily, nor right away, but if they were stuck together on a little boat in the middle of nowhere surrounded by magical creatures they have to protect each other from in order to make it back home alive, then after they had one fight where they brought up all the things they silently agreed to never bring up again, it would probably happen many more times, and each time it would leave them both angrier at each other than ever, until eventually something honest slipped through amidst all the saying-anything-except-what-they-mean bickering. And once enough of these honest moments slipped through, then they would have a thread to tug on to start to unravel the gargantuan knot of their decades of unresolved conflicts.

And then, eventually, maybe Stan could learn that he can have a good friendship with his brother without needing to be glued to him at the hip, and Ford needing a certain amount of alone time doesn't mean he dislikes him or wants to abandon him, and Ford could learn that he can be honest and have a meaningful connection with someone without it driving them away and making them hate him.

[8rujaa]

what is going on with me i’m so confused rn

[milfygerard]

living in the inbetween hell where I dont hate or love ttpd enough to agree with anyone on the dash so im just sort of flinching whenever I see a post about it from any side

[somecunttookmyurl]

Sorry to just drop into this, but another thing to consider with handmade good and the ‘overpriced’ idea is that you also have to factor in how much stock might sell at any given time.

For example, if you make 100 pairs of earrings in a month but might only sell 30 (because you need to give people options etc.) then the profit from those 30 should reasonably cover the time you spent making all 100.

Also, it should pay for the time you spend at craft fairs, replying to any commissions/ purchase requests, packaging time and going to the post office, any online marketing you might do (tumblr posts etc).

Peolle don’t often factor these in when thinking about the value of crafts they buy, which is a bit unfair.

yes there are other overheads but the thing is. basically all of those to some extent also apply to fibre arts

but sure. to be thorough. i spend 10h a week at my market stall and an hour... let's say 2 be generous with it... updating the shop

if i made 50 pairs of earrings and sold 15, the "materials" cost of 1 pair, to cover their unsold breathren, goes from 42p to £1.40

earrings are far from the only thing though, and account for less than half of the sales. so. we can say that about 5h of stall/shop time is covered by those

(plus the hour it took to make them)

sale price - materials cost but split over 6 hours of labour instead of 1.5 is still £12 an hour

[newtness532]

im so annoyed with everything today, i think i need some tasty food and a million hours of sleep and then I'll be back to normal

[b4kuch1n]

I put the october pieces on my redbubble as prints because I think they’re preddy good. happy august are you gonna eat that

[bangcakes]

.

[trinitea-fics]

I hate when you're very sure you're over something, but then you're awake at 4am and clearly Not Over it yet :/

[toastsnaffler]

everyone say thank u to my roommate for going to visit her parents this weekend so I can jack it loud and nasty 🙏