#||Challenge Cleared|| Meme-Reply

[futurewdclandonorris]

The Interview | Lando Norris⁴

Pairings: Lando Norris x bsf!reader

Warnings: smut

Requested: yes

A/N: My first time writing bsf!Lando yay!!! This was a pain in the ass to edit and as twice to write. I wanted to burn it at least six times in the process, but I finally won that war and here we are. I don't hate it, but don't necessarily like it either, but I hope that's only because I read it like 945437 times and already know every sentence by heart 💀 and that you will actually enjoy it <3

Interviewing your best friend, how hard could it actually be? As you sat across from Lando Norris in the cozy McLaren hospitality, you realized that interviewing him was proving to be much more challenging than you had anticipated. Especially when he was looking like that.

Sweats and hoodies were his all time go to whenever he was at home, and you have seen him wearing it numerous times. But that morning when he came to pick you up from your hotel room, you didn’t expect that exact outfit to be the one to leave you stunned.

As you tried to ignore how effortlessly good he looked, in white sweatpants and a light grey jumper that showcased his lean physique, and curls of his hair falling in just the right way over his forehead, you cleared your throat and focused on the notes in front of you. But as Lando flashed you a charming smile and leaned back in his chair, all thoughts of the interview questions went out the window.

“So, what do you want to know that you already don’t?” Lando asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"So, Lando," you began, trying to keep your voice steady, "what do you think sets McLaren apart from the other teams on the grid this season?"

"I think what really sets us apart is our team spirit," he replied. "We have an incredible group of people working together towards a common goal, and that camaraderie is something special." Lando flashed you yet another one of his charming smiles.

His words were filled with passion, and it was impossible not to be captivated by the way his voice drew you in. Despite being your best friend, there was something different about seeing him in his element, fully immersed in his love for the sport.

"It's no secret that you have a huge following on social media," you continued, steering the conversation towards a lighter topic. "How do you handle the pressure of always being under the spotlight?"

Lando chuckled softly before replying, "Oh, you know, I just try to be myself and have fun with it. The fans are amazing, and I'm grateful for all their support. Plus, it helps that my memes game is strong," he added with a wink.

"You definitely have some iconic meme moments," you agreed with a laugh, feeling more at ease now that the conversation had shifted to something more familiar. But beneath the banter and playful exchanges, you couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that there was something Lando wasn't telling you.

Throughout the interview, you noticed subtle shifts in Lando's demeanor whenever certain topics came up. His jokes became more frequent, his sarcasm sharper, as if he was intentionally deflecting your inquiries. You made a mental note to revisit those moments later, but for now, you decided to go with the flow and enjoy the time with your best friend.

Leaning forward, you fixed him with a steady gaze and said, "Let's talk some more about you. It’s the beginning of a new season and fans are eager to know what your goals are for the upcoming races. Can you share with us what you hope to achieve this year?"

For a moment, there was a flicker of seriousness in his eyes before he smirked and replied, "I hope to give all the other drivers a head start, just to make things interesting," Lando quipped with a mischievous grin.

You chuckled at his response, recognizing the familiar playful tone he always carried. But beneath the humor, you sensed a hint of determination in his eyes. Pushing further, you pressed on, "Come on, Lando. We all know you're not one to settle for anything less than the best. What are your real aspirations for this season?"

“You already know what my aspirations are, y/n. Can’t you just make something up?”

“Of course I can’t. What if I put together a statement and then you tell a different version of events to another journalist?”

Lando chuckled, shaking his head at your persistence. “And what makes you think I wouldn’t lie to them? Other reporters aren’t my friends so I think it’s actually you who’s in advantage here.”

Rolling your eyes playfully, you shot back, "Oh, so now I'm the lucky one getting the inside scoop, huh? Well alright, if you’re already so tired of answering my questions, how about we take a break and take some pictures for the article? I also heard you got a new helmet you’ll be wearing for testing as a tribute to Gil de Ferán, right? Let's capture that moment."

Lando's eyes lit up with enthusiasm at the mention of his new helmet design. He eagerly agreed, and the two of you made your way to the McLaren garage where his helmet awaited. As he carefully lifted it up, you couldn't help but admire the intricate details and the thoughtful tribute to the racing legend. Lando slipped it on with a sense of pride, and you couldn't resist snapping a few photos of him posing confidently in front of his car.

“Let’s go out to the track and have some shots of you and the helmet there. You could sit on the pit wall and hold it in your lap while admiring it,” you suggested, already envisioning the striking images that would accompany your article. Lando flashed you a grateful smile, appreciating your creativity and dedication to capturing the essence of his racing journey.

Lando perched on the pit wall, his expression a mix of focus and determination as he cradled the helmet in his hands. The vibrant colors of the design shone brightly against the backdrop of the racing circuit, a visual representation of Lando's respect for the sport's history and his aspirations for the future.

You snapped photo after photo, each frame telling a story of passion, ambition, and unwavering dedication.

“You’re choosing some interesting angles,” Lando teased as you were crouching down to get a shot from a lower perspective.

You couldn't help but smile at his lighthearted comment, your cheeks flushing with a warmth that had nothing to do with the scorching sun beating down on the track. Lando's voice had a way of enveloping you, drawing you in like a magnet and as you adjusted your position to capture another shot, your eyes inadvertently lingered on his hands, noticing the way his fingers traced the curves of the helmet with a gentle reverence.

You always thought Lando had beautiful hands, but in that very moment you couldn’t help but think what it would be like if those hands touched you. Really touched you.

The professional journalist in you was focused on capturing the perfect shots and telling Lando's story through the lens of your camera. But the other part of you, the part that had known Lando for years and cherished his friendship above all else, was struggling to keep up with the sudden surge of desires and thoughts that threatened to unravel your composure.

Lando's easy laughter and playful banter did little to ease the tension building within you. With each click of the camera, his presence seemed to grow more magnetic, his features more captivating. You couldn't deny the allure of his smile, the intensity in his gaze, or the way his energy seemed to envelop you in a cocoon of warmth.

While you reviewed the photos on your camera, Lando leaned in closer to get a glimpse as well. The heat of his body so near sent a shiver down your spine, and you hastily cleared your throat, trying to dispel the sudden rush of emotions coursing through you. But Lando was oblivious to your inner turmoil, his attention fully focused on the images displayed on the screen.

"These look amazing, y/n," he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with genuine excitement.

"Thank you, Lando," you managed to reply, your voice sounding slightly breathless even to your own ears. Clearing your throat once more, you added, "We should head back. You still owe me some answers.”

As you walked back towards the McLaren hospitality unit, Lando slung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a playful headlock. "You know, y/n, for someone who claims to be a professional interviewer, you're not half bad as a photographer either," he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You chuckled, swatting his arm away with mock indignation. "Hey now, don't let my talents overshadow your own star power. I'm just here to make sure the world sees the real Lando Norris in all his glory, on and off the track," you quipped back with a grin, the easy banter between you a testament to the years of friendship that had only grown stronger through the shared journey in the fast-paced world of Formula 1.

As you reached the hospitality unit, Lando released you from the headlock and held the door open with a flourish. "After you, madam photographer," he said with a mock bow, his eyes dancing with a mischievous gleam.

You both entered the bustling hospitality area, filled with team members preparing for the upcoming race weekend. The familiar sights and sounds enveloped you, a comforting blend of adrenaline and excitement that always accompanied a race day.

The familiar faces of the McLaren team greeted you warmly, their camaraderie palpable in every interaction. Lando's presence only added to the vibrant ambiance, his infectious laughter drawing others to join in.

Taking a seat at one of the tables, you watched as Lando engaged in animated conversations with his teammates, his passion for racing evident in every gesture and expression. It was moments like these that reminded you why you were drawn to motorsport in the first place—the sense of community, the thrill of competition, and the shared pursuit of excellence.

“Sorry for leaving you like that,” Lando said, sliding into the seat across from you, “but duty calls. It’s time to jump in the car. We can finish the interview later tonight, if that’s alright?”

"Of course, go do your thing out there on the track. We'll pick up where we left off," you replied, giving him an encouraging smile.

You stayed for a while, watching him drive and snapping a few more photos of his swift maneuvers on the track, each turn and acceleration a testament to his skill behind the wheel. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the circuit as the day drew to a close and you decided to go back to the hotel and edit the material you’ve gathered so far.

Having spent the whole day on track in the glowing sun, you first took a shower and got more comfortable in your pajama shorts and loose top before settling down at the small desk in your hotel room. The soft glow of the lamp bathed the room in a warm light as you organized your notes and sifted through the photos from today's shoot. Lando's vibrant energy leapt off the screen, each image a kaleidoscope of emotions and determination captured in still frames.

Lost in thought, you were startled by a knock on the door. Puzzled, you made your way over and peered through the peephole to see Lando standing outside, a sheepish grin on his face. And he was back in that damn outfit from before.

Despite the late hour, you couldn't suppress a smile at the sight of Lando standing at your door, his eyes alight with a mischievous glint. Opening the door, you raised an eyebrow in mock admonishment.

“Look who decided to show up. I was beginning to think you had forgotten about me,” you quipped, stepping aside to let him in.

“Never,” he replied with a grin, making himself at home in your hotel room. “Besides, I thought we could finish that interview now that I'm all fresh and ready to spill some secrets," you couldn't help but notice the way he moved with an easy familiarity, as if he had been in this space countless times before. “Oh, sorry, were you getting ready for bed?” he asked, as if only now noticing your comfortable attire, his gaze lingering on your bare legs a little longer than necessary, before innocently looking you in the eyes with a small smile.

Ignoring the flutter in your chest at his gaze, you shook your head with a chuckle.

“Not at all, I was actually working. You should see your helmet shots on a big screen. They turned out to be amazing.” you gestured as you took a seat at your laptop to show him.

Lando leaned over your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck as he peered at the screen. You couldn't help but notice the closeness between you, the shared intimacy of the moment sending a chill down your back.

“Wow, these look incredible,” Lando breathed, his voice low with awe. ”You really have an eye for capturing the moment.”

His praise sent a flush of warmth to your cheeks, a mixture of pride and something else you couldn't quite name. As you scrolled through the images together, Lando's hand brushed yours accidentally, sending a jolt of electricity through you both.

Clearing your throat and trying to ignore the nervous flutters, you turned to face him. "So, about those secrets you promised to spill..."

Lando's eyes sparkled mischievously as he settled into the armchair beside you, his gaze intense as he studied your face. For a moment, there was a weighty silence that hung between you, thick with unspoken words and unexplored emotions. You could sense a shift in the air, as if the room itself held its breath in anticipation of what he might reveal.

Finally, breaking the tension with a casual shrug, Lando chuckled softly. "Alright, alright. What do you want to know?" he asked playfully, though there was a glint of vulnerability in his eyes that you couldn't ignore.

Seeing him sit there casually in that armchair and in those sweatpants with legs spread lightly made your breath a little quicker. Taking a deep breath and clearing your throat, you busied yourself with your notebook to keep you from looking at him. “So,” you started, flipping through pages. “We have a few unanswered questions left...”

You couldn’t help but feel a rush of nerves at his intense stare, and you mechanically placed a hand on the back of your neck, stretching it out slightly. Lando's gaze followed the movement, his expression softening as he reached out to gently touch your hand, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on your skin. The simple gesture sent a shockwave of warmth through you, the soft brush of his touch awakening a hunger you tried to suppress the whole day.

“Nervous?” he asked, his tone low.

You chuckled, trying to lighten the atmosphere. ���Why would I be nervous? It’s not my first time conducting an interview.”

Lando's gaze lingered on you, his eyes searching yours with a depth that made your heart race. "Maybe it's not the interview that's making you nervous," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. The air between you crackled with tension, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the room as he leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin.

Your mind raced with a million thoughts, emotions swirling within you as you met his gaze, feeling as though you were on the precipice of something unknown yet undeniably thrilling. In that moment, all the barriers you had carefully constructed around your heart began to crumble, revealing a vulnerability you had long kept hidden.

“I noticed the way you were looking at me out on the track today,” Lando murmured, his voice husky with unspoken desire. “It wasn't just the photographer's gaze anymore, was it?” His hand lingered on yours, a silent question hanging in the air. “Especially when you crouched down to get those low angle shots of the helmet. I could feel your eyes on me longer than necessary. You didn’t do it because you wanted to capture the shot perfectly, did you?” he continued, his gaze searching yours for any sign of confirmation. “No, you did it because you wanted to be on your knees for me, to be close to me, to feel the heat of my body as you snapped away at your camera. Admit it,” Lando's voice was a whisper, causing a flurry of emotions to swirl inside you.

His words were like a sharp blade, slicing through the air and laying bare a hidden longing that had been bubbling beneath the surface, waiting to be acknowledged. You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of what he had just said settling in the space between you.

“Even this, you inviting me into your dimly lit room—”

“I don’t like big lights,” you interjected, as you tried to regain some semblance of control over the situation.

But he continued as if you hadn't said anything. “—in your silky pajama shorts and that flimsy tank top that leaves little to the imagination,” Lando said, his voice dropping even lower as he leaned closer, his gaze smoldering.

“I was getting myself comfortable—”

“Of course, you’re smart and already have a reason for everything I point out,” Lando's gaze softened at your words, a flicker of understanding passing between you as he reached out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The tenderness of his touch sent a wave of sensation to travel down your spine, reigniting the fiery connection between you. “But I am your best friend, and I know you. You can try as much as you want, but you can’t hide the truth from me,” Lando murmured, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek as he leaned in, his lips hovering tantalizingly close to yours. “I know you inside out.”

His words hung in the air, the tension between you palpable as you both teetered on the edge of something unspoken yet undeniably present. And maybe. Maybe he was right. Intentionally or not, you did know he was coming.

In that charged moment, with your heart pounding in your chest, you made a choice. You took him by the collar of his shirt and smashed your lips together. You pulled him with such force that he stumbled forward, but he quickly found balance by taking a handful of your hair and pulling you closer, deepening the kiss with a hunger that matched your own. The kiss was electric, a surge of raw desire and pent-up emotions finally breaking free. The world around you faded away as you lost yourself in the intoxicating taste of him, the warmth of his lips searing through you like a wildfire.

Every touch, every caress, ignited a blazing need within you, a longing that had been buried for far too long. As you melted into each other, the boundaries that had kept you apart crumbled, leaving only the raw, primal connection that bound your souls together.

As the kiss broke, you both gasped for air, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. Lando's eyes bore into yours, a mixture of surprise, craving, and something deeper that stirred within his gaze.

“Is this what you wanted?” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the tense stillness that enveloped you both.

“I wanted to kiss you first, but god, you’d beat me to it,” a low chuckle escaped his lips as he spoke. There was a hint of amusement in his eyes, but beneath it lay a raw vulnerability that mirrored your own. In that moment, as you gazed into each other's eyes, you knew that nothing would ever be the same between you.

You reached out to touch his face, your fingers tracing the contours of his jawline as if committing every detail to memory. The room felt as though it had shrunk, leaving just the two of you in your own intimate world where words were no longer needed.

“Then kiss me,” you breathed.

Lando's lips met yours in a frenzy of passion, each kiss deepening the connection that had ignited between you. His hands dug into your shirt, pulling you closer as if trying to erase any remaining distance between you. You responded with equal fervor, your hands tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss, a surge of emotions overwhelming your senses.

He picked you up in his arms and carried you to the bed, laying you down gently, your laughter mingling with his in the heated moment. As he joined you on the mattress, his lips trailed down to your neck, your skin tingling at his touch, and you moaned softly as his teeth grazed your sensitive skin. A shiver ran through your entire body, and you arched into him, inviting him further.

He took the invitation, his hands exploring every inch of your body, his touch feather light at times, then rougher, aching to leave his mark upon you. Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers traveled over your chest, igniting a wave of heat inside you. Each touch left a trail of fire, intensifying the sensation.

His mouth found its way to your lips again, his tongue darting out to taste you, and you met him eagerly, your tongues twining together in a frenzied dance. The room was filled with the sound of your breaths mixing, your hearts pounding in sync, as you lost yourself in each other's embrace.

Lando's body pressed against yours, his heat searing through your clothes, making your skin feel like it was sizzling. You could feel his hardness brushing against your core, making you moan softly, yearning for more.

Your hands found their way to his back, pulling him closer, needing the intimacy that only skin-to-skin contact could provide. His mouth gently moved down the curves of your neck, leaving a tantalizing trail of kisses that sent sparks of exhilaration coursing through your body. You arched your back yet again, wanting more of his touch, more of his attention.

Slowly, he lifted your shirt, revealing your stomach, and you felt a sudden rush of heat between your legs. His eyes locked onto your bare skin, a hunger gleaming in them. You knew he was seeing all of you, every flaw and imperfection that made you, you. But he didn’t care; he wanted you just the way you were.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. You could feel the sincerity in his words, and a wave of vulnerability washed over you. This wasn’t just about the physical attraction; it was about the emotional connection you had built over time.

He kissed your stomach, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. You wanted him closer; you wanted to feel his skin against yours. You reached behind you and tugged off his shirt, revealing his muscular physique that you had always admired.

You pulled him closer, and he kissed you again, his hands wandering to your breasts, tracing the outline of your nipples through your pajama top. You moaned softly, arching your back, wanting more of his touch.

He took off your top, revealing your bare chest, and you shivered at the feeling of his rough hands on your skin. He kissed your torso, his tongue darting out to taste you, and you moaned softly, inviting him to explore more.

He trailed his lips down your stomach, leaving a path of wet kisses that made you tremble with longing. You could feel his breath on your thigh, and you knew what was coming. He traced the edges of your panties, his fingers teasing you, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Lando looked up at you, his eyes filled with craving. He wanted you more than anything, and you knew it. You were his, and he was yours.

You reached down and pulled off his pants–the damn pants that started all this in the first place–revealing his erection that strained against the fabric. Your fingers grazed it, and he moaned softly, his eyes locking with yours. You could see the need in him, and it made your heart race.

You pulled off his pants, revealing his naked body, and you couldn't help but admire him. He was perfect, every inch of him, and you knew that this was what you had been waiting for. This was the moment you had been dreaming of, the moment you had been yearning for.

He laid you down gently and continued to explore every inch of your body. His fingers traced the curves of your hips, your waist, your thighs, each touch setting off a firestorm of desire within you. You moaned softly, your body arching towards his, craving his touch.

He slid his fingers between your legs, teasing your most sensitive spot, sending waves of delight coursing through you. You gasped, your breaths becoming shallow as you struggled to control the growing want inside of you.

Lando's eyes locked with yours, a mixture of lust and tenderness shining in them. He leaned down and whispered in your ear, his breath warm and sensual, “You are never to interview any other driver, you hear? You are mine. My best friend, my reporter.”

You laughed softly, the sound mingling with his as he skillfully used his hands to bring you to satisfaction. "I don't know, Lando. What if my boss wants me to do another story? What will I say then?"

“Then you do it somewhere I can see you. And you wrap it up, no inviting other drivers into your hotel room cause look what happens,” he quipped, his fingers moving faster, sending shivers throughout your body.

You gasped for air, your body trembling as you felt the waves of pleasure building up within you. You knew that you were close, that you couldn't hold back any longer. “Lando, please,” you begged, your body aching for release.

Lando's eyes met yours, a fierce intensity in his gaze. He knew what you needed, and he was more than willing to give it to you. With a sudden, forceful thrust, he entered you, filling you completely, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your entire body.

You cried out, your breath hitching as each thrust sent you higher and higher. Lando's pace quickened, his body slamming against yours, each movement a testament of his want for you. The room was filled with the sounds of your intertwined bodies, your hearts beating in sync, lost in the moment.

“You feel so good,” Lando panted, his voice low and rough. He reached up, his hands tugging at your hair, pulling your lips to his in a searing kiss. His tongue plunged into your mouth, tasting you, possessing you.

You wrapped your legs around him, your nails digging into his back, pulling him closer, needing him deeper. Your body ached for more, craving the release that only he could give you.

Lando's thrusts became more insistent, his hips pistoning against yours, each movement driving you closer to the edge. Your breath came in short gasps, your heart pounding in your chest as the ecstasy built up inside you. You could feel the heat coursing through your veins, the desire consuming you.

“Lando, oh god, I'm so close,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need. Lando responded by increasing his pace, his body slamming into yours, each thrust sending overwhelming bliss throughout your entire body.

You felt the familiar sensation building up within you, the pressure rising, the heat spreading. You knew what was coming, and you welcomed it with open arms. With a loud cry, you arched your back, your body trembling as the wave of pleasure crashed over you, engulfing you completely. Lando's body followed suit, his thrusts becoming erratic, his voice hoarse as he emptied himself within you, crying out your name.

Your bodies collapsed onto each other, panting heavily, your skin glistening with sweat. You didn't know how long you lay there, lost in each other's embrace, but the moment felt timeless. 

You glanced at him, only to see him sound asleep with a contented smile on his face. You couldn't help but run your fingers lightly through his hair, feeling the warmth of his body and the weight of his head on your chest. But you still had the article to finish and the call from your editor to make.

You gently extracted yourself from his embrace, feeling the cool air on your skin as your body adjusted back to reality. With a tender kiss on his forehead, you whispered, “I'll be right back,” feeling a sense of contentment and a touch of guilt at leaving him there.

You put on a robe and sat down at your desk, using the warm glow of the computer screen to illuminate your face as you typed away, every word bringing you closer to finishing the article. Although he owed some questions to the world, as his best friend you already knew the answers to almost every one. Remembering his words from earlier, you took it to your advantage to finish the article.

As you worked, the memories of the night still fresh in your mind, you couldn't help but recall the way Lando's hands felt on your body, the way his breath grazed your skin, the way his voice whispered husky promises in your ear. It made it hard to concentrate, but you knew you had to be professional.

With the piece finally done, you sent it to your editor, knowing that you had captured the essence of Lando's journey and the excitement surrounding his career. You knew that this was just the beginning of many great things for him, and you couldn't be more proud to have witnessed it firsthand, as his best friend, reporter and maybe something more in the future.

[whatisamettafor]

I saw a horrible AI Tam and Lucy this morning in animal onesies and had to use my actual human hands to make a better version.

After drawing the whole thing I was like damn....I should have made s*xy pin ups with little ears, so if you want to tell me to do that, consider joining the patreon

Edited because tumblr absolutely will not allow me to reply to messages, so I'm trying to reply to @booksnwriting:

The difference is that the other person put their prompt into a computer and the computer program took a bunch of artists' hard work and skill without permission to fill that prompt. I'm taking human skill, time and effort and using it to fill a prompt. What I'm doing is no different than any art challenge, or draw your OTP like this meme or whatever. Do I have their permission? No, but frankly if you're out here stealing other people's skills and calling it art, then I think it's only fair that your ideas can be turned around and used as prompts by people with those skills to produce actual drawings. Furthermore, what I'm doing is not hurting them, but if they didn't have access to a database of stolen work, maybe they would have given money to an actual human artist to draw their prompt, maybe they would have held a little drawing prompt contest and shared the art and gained real artists exposure which could then allow those artists to find work doing other commissions. Even if they didn't do either of those things, even if not having AI meant their idea just stayed in their head never to see the light of day, the existence of AI art in general devalues skills people had to work to develop and takes jobs away from those people by taking their existing work. That actively hurts artists. I'm "bashing" them because what they're doing is actively harming me and people like me.

Based on your user name I assume you are probably a writer, and I would like to ask you: is there more value in an actual human being writing things like fanfic (stories using other people's ideas as their jumping off point) or original books that include genre tropes than there is in typing prompts into a text generating AI?

Would you be annoyed if someone chose to write a retelling of Dracula using their own brain and hands in response to hearing that someone else was marketing a Dracula retelling that they'd "written" using a text autofill program?

And just so we're clear, the thing that makes the AI horrible is that it's AI, not whether or not it's nice to look at.

[prettyboykatsuki]

how surprising ur response doesn’t address the issue at all!!!! i would love for u to go off on me because it’s easy for me to win a disagreement when i know i’m right lmao and also i KNOW 100% for a fact that countless people would agree w me but it’s not reaching the correct audience w a sane mindset cuz all ur followers are 🌽 addicts too thinking the same shit as u and pitying and comforting ur ass in ur replies🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️shits cringe to watch but anyway every normal person knows it’s weird and that’s all the matters i suppose cuz post that shit literally anywhere else and your ass WILL get dragged

maybe let’s try a one month no 🌽 challenge and try again! maybe ur mind will detox and you’ll realize ur fucking weird

i didn't respond to your ask with any dignity because the original premise of your ask was not worthy of being dignified with time nor attention.

ive gotten tens of asks of people who also want to hold moral superiority over me by regurgitating opinions they've adopted from their online internet circles without any real nuance and thus i have no reason to take it seriously. you are not the first person to try to peddle this to me and there is nothing about your ask that warrants any of my thoughtful consideration.

i normally wouldn't bother with correcting this one either, but because im already in a deeply irritable mood - sure, i will give you the response you are asking for, starting with the post you are criticizing.

firstly, you're incorrectly reading my post. you intentionally misrepresent my post with your wording and also the sort of joke i was making by implying "memed about waiting for the age of consent" so i can indulge my porn addiction."

im going to disregard your application of harmful real world rhetoric to what is essentially fiction and go along with the idea that fictional characters are in anyway effected by my posting.

the main issue is fundamentally that you are misreading it. i know you are because i am the original poster and the author of this post - which means i can directly tell you that the point of this post is ironic.

it is poking fun at the people who have accused me of pedophilia for aging up a fictional character for years because he is now, in canon, an adult.

the irony of that is that i was doing what horikoshi was when writing my fics. the people who treated my aging up as invalid simply because horikoshi is the author are no longer able to wield it against me. the author has no confirmed his adulthood, which makes that argument moot.

your argument is that i was in some way making a joking about having waited for izuku to reach adulthood in order to sexualize him. this is blantantly incorrect and a misreading of the post in general. that is not something you can counter because if you've spent any time on my blog at all - it would be very clear i was already aging up and sexualizing characters on my own whims.

both posts for better viewing.

the other thing you spout off about is porn addiction. this is the main reason i didn't find any reason to take your points seriously. if you knew, researched, or understood any of the points you've borrowed from your peers on tiktok - you would know why porn addiction is not a term you can apply to erotica.

in the first place, there is no universally understood diagnostic criteria for porn addiction. there are other forms of research related to how porn interferes with cis-heterosexual partnerships and the quality of sex life and some affiliation with watching porn as a compulsive behavior - but neither of these things qualify as addiction.

pornography is a highly politicized topic because our society is structured upon old school protestant christian beliefs and puritanism. but pornography and sexually explicit materal is a difficult thing to quantify in usage. it is culturally ubiquitous and has several nuances in relation to its use. it is near impossibly to quantify sexual behavior because it is a normal, human urge like hunger or thirst whether or not you choose to believe that.

here are three articles making points about the claims around porn addiction from reliable sources that you're welcome to point out.

one | two | three

as i keep repeating - addiction is a specific line of behavior and being frank, it's rather insulting you think i suffer from a porn addiction given i used to do actual drugs and suffered from real life addictions lmao.

but if you want to use other addiction diagnostic critera in this argument. my posting on silly erotica tumblr does not

interfere with my daily life or relationships

negatively affect my performance in school or at work

cause me to withdraw from social situations

lose interest in my other hobbies and activies that improve quality of life.

none of the above applies to me. but im guessing you don't have any actual concern.

it's very clear to me and everyone else that your peddling of this term has nothing to do with whether or not i actually have the addiction - and everything to do with you attempting to moralize my behavior to an audience and boost up your own points.

if i really did have a porn addiction, implying i had an addiction - you are implying that this is something i should be ashamed of just as you are implying my fellow porn addicts should also be ashamed.

you see addiction as a point of shame and not a disease and don't show any actual empathy which makes you a morally bankrupt human being in my subjective view. you don't have any actual arguments about how this might effect my behavior or character. only that addiction (a thing people can't control) is bad, that i am bad for watching porn and being addicted to it.

neither of these are provable as you do not know me.

instead your attempt to find fault is to arm yourself with puritan talking points and internet tiktok buzzword language and make your clauses have some kind of ground or validity. it is trite and frankly embarrassing watching you come into my inbox with such confidence that you would be able to argue with me critically and meaningfully.

the last thing i will address is your point about this not being a popular opinion.

you are under the impression im not aware of this and that this is not a choice i've made deliberately so i will be kindly blunt.

i, unlike you, have formed these opinions with my own critical understanding of culture, sociology, psychology, and politics by researching and reading from people who study these things with more expertise than me.

these opinions are formed by my own discretion and worldview. they are unpopular opinions.

unlike you, my peers are not decided by my moral parading. rather, im frank and upfront with those world views and have formed a circle that agrees with them.

i do not need your validation nor the validation of people online to confirm whether or not im a good person. the reason people agree with me is not pity, but because they too have formed their own opinions and ours happen to allign.

you think this is pitying behavior because the people you choose to align with would cast you out for showing even a breadth of disagreement or critique. you have not fostered a space for intelligent conversation because you can't see disagreement without accusing someone of this or that.

you are all the same and you are all equally confident in your hivemind opinions. i applaud your audacity and admire your confidence in your own ability to argue something you've barely formed your own conscious thought about.

i dont need to detox anything and i dont care about being weird. i also, really don't care about you or your opinions.

you are unoriginal and boring, a pest of the highest pedigree and i don't find you intimidating. your inability to receive validation from your own moral character will doom you to shame and guilt for as long as you allow and thats much more punishment than i could ever dole out to you

have a good day pookie 🫂🫂

[takingchences]

𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐩𝐭. 𝟗

Where the descendant of a legendary quirk longs to rewrite history by becoming a hero. But in order to fulfill her dream, she must first face off against ghosts from her past and a growing attraction for the insufferable Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x OP!fem!oc

Warnings: mature language

series masterlist + my masterlist

After the attack, U.A gave the students the following two days off to rest and recover from their traumatic ordeal. Their first day back, Sana was horrified by the state of their homeroom teacher. Mr. Aizawa was wrapped head to toe in gauze, his eyes mere slits, with both of his arms in casts.

He looks like a freshly dead mummy.

She applauded his badassery and dedication, but after hearing from the others how serious his injuries were, she'd assumed (like a normal person) that the Pro Hero would at least be on bed leave for a few days. Considering how sleep deprived he seemed all the time, she thought he'd be thrilled. Apparently not.

He reminded them that the world famous U.A Sports Festival was drawing closer, and after recent events, all eyes would be on them. But no pressure, right? She balanced her chin on her fist.

Classes resumed like normal, as though USJ never happened. It wasn't until the final bell rang that things got, well, strange. Students from all grades and classes swarmed their classroom door, blocking them in. Shinso made a dramatic appearance, where he proceeded to declare war on their class and challenge the entire Hero Course for a spot. He'd made his intentions of joining the hero course clear very early into their friendship.

From how her classmates had described the entrance exam, people with quirks like Shinso's were doomed from the start. He never stood a chance making it into the Hero Course... until now.

He was determined to get noticed this time around, and Sana was willing to help him reach his goal however she could. She gave him tips to improve his training regimen and offered to spar with him whenever he wanted. The two had lunch together at his usual spot two or three times a week, and spent the majority of it exchanging memes and gushing over cute cat videos. Shinso was funny in a dry, sarcastic way that she appreciated. He was easy to talk to and his laid back attitude put her at ease.

He wasn't ready to join her at her table just yet, but she always kept a seat open just in case.

After finishing her homework, showering, and eating dinner, Sana set her grand plan in motion. Stretching out across her bed on her stomach, with her phone in one hand and a piece of paper in the other, she started typing.

Sent 8:03pm

Hey hotshot

Sent 8:06pm

The fuck

Sent 8:08pm

How the fuck did you get this number

Sent 8:09pm

I'm surprised you're still awake. You walk around like a grumpy old man with arthritic knees so I figured you'd be in bed by six

Sent 8:09pm

WHO THE FUCK IS THIS

Sent 8:10pm

If I told you I'd have to kill you

Sent 8:11

I'd kill you first

Sent 8:12pm

Good luck with that considering you have no idea who I am

Sent 8:13pm

Fuck you

Sent 8:13pm

How the hell did you get my number

Sent 8:15pm

I gave Midoriya an offer he couldn't refuse

Sent 8:16pm

FUCKING DEKU! ILL EXPLODE HIS ASS

Sent 8:16pm

That's kinky

Sana smirked down at the screen as the message bubbles danced, anticipating his reply. She giggled quietly to herself, picturing him stomping around his room throwing a fit. She could practically hear his demonic screeching through the device.

Irritating Bakugou brought her a special type of joy. The only other experiences that could compare were rebelling against her father, or cracking Shoto's mask of indifference. The ability to provoke such intense emotions in someone was addictive.

It took a few minutes for the boy to respond.

Sent 8:21pm

I'm losing fucking brain cells talking to you

Sent 8:21pm

Well I know you only have so many to spare so I'll make this quick

Sent 8:21pm

Train with me

Sent 8:23pm

The fuck

Sent 8:25pm

You know that's not technically a question right?

Sent 8:26pm

Meet me at Yoshida Park at 10:00am

Sent 8:26pm

Fuck off

Sent 8:27pm

You're right. What could you possibly teach me? I'd be better off asking Midoriya

Sent 8:27pm

YOUR ASS BETTER NOT BE LATE OR ILL FUCKING STRANGLE YOU

Sent 8:28pm

Another kink? I'm learning a lot about you Bakugou

Sent 8:29pm

FUCK OFF

Sent 8:31pm

Lmao

Sent 8:31pm

Good night hotshot

The blonde tossed his phone across the room, screaming curses at the unknown number.

"Shut up, ya damn brat!" His mother's loud voice scolded him from downstairs. "Isn't it past your bedtime?!"

¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*

Bakugou walked with purpose towards Yoshida Park. He was familiar with it, having spent most of his childhood exploring the grounds with his followers. It was a short walk, but he'd had all night to plan. The unknown number had disrupted his sleep schedule after all.

First, he'd go to the park and murder whatever extra had been unlucky enough to mess with him. Then, on his way back, he'd pay Midoriya a special visit.

He had a list of suspects he'd been going back and forth on. First on the list was Shitty Hair, but Bakugou quickly realized it couldn't have been the spiky-haired boy. The redhead was putting in a lot of effort to befriend him—even more so after their team up during USJ—but the boy was far too shy. Second and third on his list were Dunce Face and Scotch Tape. They shared one brain cell between them, and both were confident enough to say such provocative things, but not so dumb that they'd ask to meet him face to face afterwards.

They had to know it would only end in bloodshed... theirs to be exact.

That left Raccoon Eyes or Flashlight. He hadn't interacted much with the pink-skinned girl, only in group settings, and even then, she'd barely stop to acknowledge him before getting into shit with Dunce Face or her "wifey."

One by one he marked names off until only one dumbass remained.

He stopped at the entrance of the park, spotting said girl leaning against a tree. Thick lashes fanned out across her cheekbones, her arms loosely crossed. A red and white gym bag was slung over her shoulder. She wore black leggings paired with a cherry red sports jacket, her hair held back by her signature ribbon. Bakugou himself sported his usual baggy black sweatpants and low cut black tank.

Her eyes fluttered open, the jewel-like irises sparkling in the morning sun. "Right on time." She pushed off of the tree. "Have you stretched?"

"I'm not here to train." He glowered down at her, their faces inches apart. Sana's expression remained neutral, but her amusement was obvious in the curve of her lips. "I'm here to kick your ass-"

"Again with the ass thing," Sana tutted, shaking her head in disapproval. "Is that all you can think about?"

"Shut the fu-"

"Language, asshole." she hissed, smacking his arm as a family of four walked by them. Sana gave him a coy smile. "There are children present."

Bakugou was seconds away from blowing a fuse, crackling sounds filling the air as his palms smoked. "Come on," she slid her hand down his arm with a soft, feather-like touch to grab his wrist. "Let's get started."

Bakugou muttered threats and curses under his breath, but continued to follow her to a secluded area with a dense tree line. A few feet ahead, the trees parted to reveal a decent sized clearing. "How did you get that damn nerd to give you my number?" The blonde grumbled, ripping his arm from her grip.

"Oh, that?" She shrugged. "I bribed him with a limited edition All Might collectible." She remembered how flushed the greenette became after she cornered him after class the other day. He'd been a sweaty, stuttering mess until she'd unzipped her backpack and shown him what she'd hidden inside. Seeing Bakugou's pissed off face now, it was definitely worth all the yen.

"... which one."

Sana blinked. His gruff voice was so quiet that she nearly didn't catch the words. The boisterous blonde she'd come to know was now scowling passionately at a tree, but his mouth was... is he pouting?!

Her lips split into a chesshire grin. "My, my. Is the mighty Bakugou secretly a fanboy?"

His brows furrowed even further at the teasing. "Do you ever shut the hell up?" His hair seemed to puff up even more in anger. Cute. "I'm nothing like that nerd!"

"Aren't you the nerdy one, though?" Sana tapped her chin with her pointer finger, eyes rolled upwards as she pretended to think. "I'm pretty sure you scored higher than him on last week's test."

She smirked in delight as Bakugou's body began to vibrate in anger, his nostrils flaring.

She stretched her body, warming up her muscles in preparation for what was probably going to be one of the hardest training sessions of her life. Bakugou wasn't the type to do anything without giving it his all. It was as admirable as it was daunting. She rolled her shoulders back, her neck popping with a satisfying crack. "Ready?"

The blonde smirked, his hands sparking to life. "I'm gonna enjoy this."

Fighting Bakugou proved to be even more of a challenge than she'd anticipated. He was strong and fast, every movement well thought out and well executed. He was also relentless, refusing to give her any time to recover or even think. It was purely instinctive, forcing her to rely on her reflexes. She was suddenly grateful for the decade of combat training Endeavor had instilled in every fiber of her being.

It was different, to say the least.

She was so used to going up against Shoto. Back when they were still talking, she'd been able to anticipate his movements with one look. Maybe that was part of the problem. Were they so intune with each other that there was no longer room for improvement? Had they reached a point in their training where they were unable to learn from each other going forward?

Sana groaned, returning to the problem at hand. She threw the blonde a dirty look for the particularly hard kick he'd just delivered to her side. He huffed a laugh, his lips parted in a crooked smile. "Not so cocky now, huh?"

"That's funny coming from you." She lunged, finally landing a hit to his jaw. They'd been at it for hours now, and Bakugou showed no sign of stopping anytime soon. There was no way he wasn't as exhausted as she was, but she knew he'd rather die than admit to such a thing. As if being human was equivalent to him being weak.

After another half hour of this, she finally gave up.

"Okay, okay." Sana backed away, holding her palms up in surrender. He stopped mid punch, his eyes narrowed. "Let's take a break."

He clicked his tongue, watching as she approached the gym bag she'd abandoned in the shade, walking back to him and dropping it at his feet. The pastel teen crouched to unzip the bag, removing two towels, some protein bars, and two water bottles. He caught the towel she tossed him with ease, swiping the fabric across his face and jaw. She plopped down on the ground, motioning for him to do the same. With an annoyed grunt, he complied, snatching the water and snack out of her hands.

She shook her head in amusement, knowing he wasn't nearly as frustrated as he pretended to be. "So dramatic," she muttered under her breath.

Surprisingly, the silence between them wasn't uncomfortable. It was actually pretty nice. She could hear the small sounds of nature around them: the low buzz of insects and the soft rustling of tree branches above their heads. It was something she'd never associated with Bakugou before...

Peaceful.

After practically inhaling their protein bars, the two teens laid down on their backs in the grass. The sky had darkened to a dark blue, a few stars already visible.

Sana turned her head to peek at the boy next to her. Both of their chests were heaving lightly, their skin dewy with sweat. He had his arms folded behind his head with his eyes closed. As if feeling her gaze, he cracked one eye open and grimaced.

"What're you staring at?" Even in the limited light, she could've sworn his cheeks were now dusted in a rosy hue.

"Nothing," she averted her gaze, her own face burning under his scrutiny. "It's just... I'm glad you stayed." Sana admitted softly. Never in her life had she felt so bashful. It took everything in her not to squirm uncomfortably as she waited for him to say something. Anything. Bakugou scoffed, his eyes hooded as he watched the sky slowly darken. Sana joined him in stargazing. After a few minutes, the blonde cleared his throat.

"I guess it wasn't a complete waste of time."

Sana snickered. "That was really hard for you to admit, wasn't it?" A tch was his only response, but in the limited light, it almost looked like he was smiling. They stayed like that until the sky glittered with stars, like diamonds against midnight velvet. The two teens climbed to their feet, dusting dirt and grass off of their clothes. Sana called out just as Bakugou made to leave.

"Wait." The blonde turned to glance over his shoulder. The solar-powered girl riffled through her gym bag before pulling out a medium-sized package. "Here," she held it out for him to take. Bakugou removed his hand from his pocket and took the box. Flipping it around, his eyes widened. His jaw loosened in shock.

"The hell...?"

Sana rubbed her neck, avoiding looking directly at the blonde. "I figured I owed you for coming down here." She peeked at him from beneath her lashes. "You don't have that one, right?"

Bakugou clutched the box containing the limited edition Silver Age All Might figurine tightly. He remembered demanding his parents for one as a child. How they'd waited in line outside the store for hours, only for the shelves to be completely empty once they made it inside. How every store they went to was the same: the toy having sold out nationwide just hours after being released.

But here one was, after a decade of searching, in perfect condition... right in the palm of his hand.

"Bakugou?"

He slowly lifted his head, vermillion eyes clashing with dark pink. A million questions raced through his mind. How had she known?

Sana bit her lip to contain her giddiness. She inched closer to him until there was hardly any space left between them. She inhaled the sweet scent of caramel and cologne that always clung to him. "Your number isn't the only thing Midoriya told me," she lifted herself on the balls of her feet, her breath hitting his cheek. "Katsuki."

¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*

They met up the next day, and the day after, until it became almost routine for them. They'd meet at Yoshida Park, or make the trip together straight after school if neither had plans. It came as a surprise to them both how well they got along when no one else was around. Sure, they still had the occasional spat, but it was mostly playful bickering and teasing to rile the other up. They both had a dark sense of humor, an almost unhealthy competitive streak, and a punch first, ask questions later approach to situations.

One afternoon, Bakugou had to leave earlier than usual. He'd grumbled something about 'dinner with the old hag' before storming off. Sana figured his grandparents were in town or something and decided to take off early too.

She texted Mina, asking her if she was free to hang out. The pinkette responded to her message at lightning speed, sending her the address of a cute new bakery she'd been dying to try. The walk took fifteen minutes or so. She spotted Mina waiting outside, the pink-skinned girl squealing as soon she noticed her. They shared a hug before entering the shop, quickly ordering drinks and a few desserts to share. Mina led her over to a table by the window, her hands clasped under her chin.

"So," she narrowed her black and yellow eyes suspiciously. "Where's your shadow?"

"My what?" Sana leaned forward. Mina followed suit, lowering her voice as if her next words were top secret.

"Bakugou, duh."

"What?" Sana fell back in her chair with a laugh.

Mina waved her hand around dismissively. "You know what I mean. Wherever you are, he's bound to show up sooner or later." The waiter appeared with their order, interrupting the energetic girl before she could go on.

Sana reflected on her friend's words as she sipped on her bubble tea. It was true that Bakugou always seemed to be around whenever she needed him. He'd helped her during the stampede in the halls, as well as telling off that reporter for her. He'd been by her side before the class was separated by the warp villain. While she'd been recovering after the USJ attack, Shoto had briefly mentioned something about her helping Bakugou, though she didn't remember much. The blonde hadn't said a word to her about it, and she'd been too preoccupied with not thinking about USJ.

"I guess I..." she answered softly. "I hadn't noticed."

Mina paused mid-sentence, having already moved onto another topic. Some third year gossip she'd heard from Hagakure, who'd overheard some upperclassman whispering about it during break.

She'd noticed how her friend had been pushing herself harder since the villain attack. How busy she was with training. Mina hadn't been there with her when she was attacked, but she'd seen the damage inflicted on the villains. Afterwards, Kirishima mentioned how strange Sana had acted right before the teachers' arrival. "You'd tell me, right?" Mina pressed, her pretty face troubled. "If something was wrong?"

It was odd hearing the bright, cheerful girl suddenly sound so serious. It didn't fit her character at all. Sana forced a radiant smile, wanting any doubts about her or their friendship to disappear. She trusted Mina, she really did, but she didn't want to burden her with her problems, especially when she was still trying to figure them out herself.

"Of course," Sana assured her. "We're best friends after all."

A scarred, yet handsome face came to mind. She wondered if it was normal for best friends to hide things from each other. In Recovery Girl's office, Shoto had implied that she'd betrayed him in some way. If only she knew what the hell he was talking about.

[evilpenguinrika]

Rika's Hosie Fics Priority Update List

I'm purely writing this post out so I don't have to keep repeating myself in the author's notes or replies to comments about why certain fics haven't been updated or when they'll be updated again.

I'm also not writing this post because I'm not grateful for all the support and love from Hosies on my fics--I'm incredibly grateful and appreciative to the Hosies out there who read and love my silly little stories, but it's just that...

I'm tired. I'm not a ""content creator"" or a robot. I'm just a dork writing fanfic for fun because it's been a hobby of mine since I was thirteen. And sometimes things happen that make me not want to update a fic anymore, and I just can't do anything about that sadly. And I'm truly sorry that some of my fics have not been updated in a while as well, there's nothing more I'd love to do than to update some of them because of the initial passion and excitement for them, but I can't bring myself to do that, not now anyway, so I hope this clears up a few things, no matter how vague.

Anyway, my fic priority update list will have 3 categories, High Priority, Mid Priority, and Low Priority. High being I have a consistent update for it, and low being a mystery because I honestly can't look at those fics without wanting to throw a pillow at the wall. Mid is just very sporadic updates whenever I see fit or whatever.

Edit 3/24/2024: I updated my priority list to include my Hosie FFXIV series in Mid Priority.

Edit 5/8/2024: I updated my priority list to include my Hosie Candela Obscura AU in Mid Priority

Edit 9/9/2024: Hosie FFXV AU fic has been moved from Low Priority to Mid Priority

//

High Priority Update

We're Reckless and in Danger

Mid Priority Update

Hosie: Warriors of Light Series

The Circle of The Golden Key

Won't You Stand By Me

Legacysong

Low Priority Update

Sad Bedroom Eyes

Terra

photo gallery meme

Challenger Would Like To Battle

[moonlightsturns]

Starclines vs. Sturniolos in Florida!

pt 1 pt 2

After a week back in Florida, the Starcline sisters found their comments section flooded again:

“When are you meeting the Sturniolos next?!”

“We NEED a Florida edition of this collab!”

“Triplets vs. Triplets: Alligator Wrestling???”

Naïa chuckled at the last one, shaking her head. “Our fans are unhinged.”

But the idea of a Florida-themed collab stuck. The Starclines wasted no time inviting the Sturniolos to their turf for a week of sibling rivalry.

The Arrival

The Sturniolo triplets arrived in Florida to the sound of blaring rap music from the Starclines’ car. Caïa leaned out of the driver’s seat, waving frantically.

“Welcome to the Sunshine State, losers!” she shouted.

Nick stepped out of the car, shielding his eyes from the glaring sun. “It’s way too hot here.”

“Aw, does baby Nick need sunscreen?” Naïa teased, tossing him a bottle.

Chris grinned. “This week is gonna be insane. Let’s go!”

Challenge 1: Swamp Tour Chaos

The first stop? An airboat tour through the Florida Everglades. The challenge was simple: whoever spotted the most alligators won.

The boat took off, and it wasn’t long before chaos ensued.

“I see one!” Caïa yelled, pointing.

“That’s a log,” Maïa corrected, rolling her eyes.

Meanwhile, Chris leaned dangerously over the edge of the boat. “If I fall in, do I get bonus points?”

“No, you get eaten,” Nick deadpanned.

In the end, Maïa’s eagle eyes won the challenge, spotting a whopping five alligators.

Challenge 2: Beach Olympics

The next day, they hit the beach for a series of mini-games: relay races, sandcastle building, and a tug-of-war.

During the relay race, Caïa and Chris immediately turned it into a wrestling match in the sand.

“Chris, stop tackling me!” Caïa screamed, laughing as they both faceplanted into a wave.

Naïa and Nick ended up carrying their teams, while Matt and Maïa quietly strategized their way to victory in the sandcastle competition.

By the end of the day, everyone was sunburned and exhausted but couldn’t stop laughing.

Challenge 3: Cooking Battle

Back at the Starclines’ home, the triplets faced off in a Chopped-style cooking competition. The twist? They had to use Florida-themed ingredients like oranges, key limes, and seafood.

Naïa, the self-proclaimed chef, took charge for her team, while Matt tried to wrangle Chris and Nick in the kitchen.

“Chris, stop eating the shrimp!” Matt yelled.

“I’m taste-testing!” Chris protested.

The final dishes were judged by their fans via Instagram polls. The Sturniolos’ chaotic shrimp tacos narrowly beat the Starclines’ key lime pie.

A Moment of Reflection

After days of non-stop competition, the triplets gathered around a bonfire in the Starclines’ backyard.

“This has been the most fun I’ve had in forever,” Nick admitted, staring into the flames.

“Agreed,” Maïa said, sipping a soda. “Even if you guys are the most disorganized people I’ve ever met.”

Chris smirked. “Hey, chaos is a strategy.”

“Sure it is,” Naïa replied, rolling her eyes.

The night ended with everyone sharing stories about growing up as triplets. Despite their differences, they realized they had more in common than they thought.

The Fans Go Wild

When the videos from their Florida adventures dropped, the internet exploded. Memes of Chris and Caïa wrestling in the sand circulated on TikTok, while Instagram was flooded with screenshots of their hilarious cooking fails.

Fans declared it the “collab of the century,” demanding even more content from the Starclines and Sturniolos.

What’s Next?

As the Sturniolos boarded their flight back to LA, Chris turned to his brothers. “Next time, we’re making them come to Boston. Let’s show them how real triplets do it.”

Meanwhile, back in Florida, Caïa was already brainstorming her next prank. “I’m thinking… fake crocodile in a swimming pool?”

One thing was clear: this triplet rivalry was far from over.

To be continued…

[queersatanic]

wait, no nut november is fash? i thought it was likea kinky edging thing

It’s one of those “haha it’s just ironic shitposting… unless” sort of things that the far-right often uses, but this one is specifically centered on why men need to preserve their manly vitality and pornography is evil

Yet it would be naive to ignore that there’s significant overlap between the general ideology behind NoFap — and, to a degree, No Nut November — and that of the far right, which has increasingly coopted the principles of masturbation abstinence. Because the challenge is associated with abstaining from porn, some people associated with the movement have taken the extra step of harassing adult performers on social media, giving it an additional layer of troubling implications. “In the past [No Nut November] has always been like, ‘Oh, look at this ridiculous thing some people are participating in,'” says adult performer and director Casey Calvert. “This year, people [in the industry] are talking about, ‘Oh, actually this is connected to the far right and maybe we shouldn’t just be saying hahaha, No Nut November.'”

A new meme brings these implications into sharp relief. Coomer is a reference to a meme of an unkempt, skeezy-looking bearded man in a white tank top with vaguely Semitic features, accompanied by descriptive text like “doesn’t even know anything about politics,” “extremely aesthetic right arm (huge muscle),” and “has never heard of NoFap.”

It’s been circulating on 4chan for the past year, but Alex Hawkins, the vice president of the porn tube site xHamster, says he started seeing it in the replies on his company’s Twitter feed back in September, when presidential candidate Andrew Yang tweeted about limiting access to pornography. At first, “we didn’t really know what it meant and thought it was funny,” he tells Rolling Stone. Then, in late October, the coomer resurfaced thanks to a Twitter campaign led by a user named TeapotLad, in which users vowed to change their avatars to the coomer should they fail No Nut November. PewDiePie shouted out the campaign in a recent YouTube video, as did far-right YouTuber Paul Joseph Watson, who is perhaps best known for being one of the many extremist figures, including Milo Yiannopolous and Alex Jones, to be banned from Facebook. “No Nut November and the Coomer meme represent a deeper meaning,” he said in a tweet. “Porn is evil. It literally re-wires your brain and causes erectile dysfunction. Take the pledge. Don’t be a Coomer.”

The term has also been used in the context of “OK coomer,” a play on the “OK boomer” meme, in response to tweets critical of No Nut November or masturbation abstinence in general. “It’s positioned as this epic battle between the weak beta masturbators and the strong, alpha NoFappers,” says Hawkins.

Like most memes, “coomer” carries with it more than a tinge of irony, and it’s not always easy to determine whether it’s being used flippantly or to actually deride men who masturbate. But the implication is clear: masturbating is an urge that should be resisted at all costs. David Ley, PhD, a clinical psychologist and sex therapist who studies pornography and mental health, saw the meme after he tweeted his criticism of No Nut November, referring to it as “a creepy little smorgasbord of insecurity-driven hate with anti-Semitism, misogyny, and homophobia all rolled up in one,” he tells Rolling Stone.

[mercurygray]

Merc, could I get "enchanting" for either Marjorie Gordon/Gale Cleven, or Joan Warren/Gale Cleven? Thanks!

Kat, I am really math-ladying memeing over the thought of Joan and Gale being an Item, but Gale and Marj (my Marj, sorry actual Marge) is catnip.

So here it is. Assume, for the purposes of debate, that Marj and Joan and everyone else decided joining the Air Force was more exciting than joining the Airborne

He wished she could be outside.

The weather was fine, for December - one of those bright, cold blue days where there was clear visibility for miles and every single pilot in the camp was itching to get his hands back into the yoke of his plane. The camp was almost bearable, on those days where you wouldn't want to be up in the soup - but on days like this? Being ground-bound was agony.

Gale glanced back up at the sky, half-wishing for a wisp of cloud - or the glimpse of a plane. Not that he'd ever get one - at the first sound of engine noise the guards would give the order to have everyone out of the yards and back inside the barracks, fearful that whatever they saw overhead would give away more news of the war.

But for some, even the scant pleasures of the winter sunlight were far away.

Gale ducked back inside the room he shared with the others, making his way carefully around the table with his hands in his coat pockets so he could pull up a chair next to one of the bunks, and the woman lying there reading a book.

She looked up at the scrape of his boots in the door. "Hey you. What happened to enjoying the sunshine?"

"Was coming to see my best girl," Gale said with a brief smile, lowering himself down onto the nearest crate. "How's the leg?"

Marj shifted a little in the narrow bunk, her breathing hitching a little. The bunks here weren't made for tall men or women, and Bucky and Marj both found it challenging to keep themselves where they were allotted - especially with Marj's leg still in its cast. She'd broken it on her jump, and letting it sit and fester for nearly a week certainly hadn't helped matters. She'd arrived at Stalug Luft III on a stretcher and in the throes of a fever that should have killed her, and the doctor had only just recently let her out of the infirmary and back into the general compound. "Still hurts. They tell me it's set fine, and now it's just a matter of letting it heal." She tried to smile. "You'll have to tell Bucky I don't think I'm gonna be able to pitch the next game."

"He'll understand."

"Or you'll make him?" Marj suggested with a wry smile. "I know how you work, Gale Cleven."

She knows me too well, he thought to himself. "If anyone catches him complaining about it, John'll have me to answer to," Gale promised. "You're too important to lose, Marj Gordon." Too important to me, he almost said, words to put paid to the thing they didn't say aloud, the thing that had no name. What kind of man lets a woman do his fighting? All the papers at home were filled with talk like that. The kind who trusts her to win just as well as he can, he always wanted to say. But it was one thing to win, and another to take on a green co-pilot because good pilots were spread thin, and lose your fort in a flak field, and bail out over Germany, and break your leg, and end up in a camp. He should have fought harder to keep her in his plane. Maybe if he'd done that she wouldn't have -

He sniffled, trying to hide whatever blush might have come out in his cheek and pulled something out of his pocket. "Here, brought you something," he said, holding out the can of Spam. "Traded some spare socks for it."

Marj set her book aside and took the can with reverent hands. Food was gold here, and it was a holy day indeed when you had a whole can of something to call your own. She looked up at him with conflicted eyes, the both of them knowing full well the can hadn't been traded for a single spare pair of socks. "Buck."

"Not going have that leg heal right on soup," he replied, refusing to rise to the accusation in her voice. "And we ought to find you a - a pair of crutches or something. Need to get you out, moving around again."

"You're not gonna offer me your arm?" Marj asked with only slight provocation.

Gale steeled himself, hating how much he loved the idea. Marjorie Gordon, if I do that they'll know I'm in love with you, he thought silently to himself. And I can't let them have that.

[leannan-sithe]

So you want to join our Godspousing Discord?

Here is a link to our standard advertisement post. Please go read it to find out more details about our 18+ Godspousing discord.

This isn't going to be our standard advertisement, partially because I'm bored of reposting the same thing. Instead, I want to enlighten folks on what happens on our godspousing discord.

The Pros:

Since it's invite-only, our community feels comfortable enough to get advice about intimate topics regarding deities and spirits, such as love, dating, and bedroom funtimes.

We have our "off-topic" area for your daily life, memes, pet pics, music discussions. We don't solely discuss our dating lives; we work to build a community of friends!

Unless there's extreme drama, what happens on this discord generally stays there. We discourage gossip about other discords and foster mutual respect. If we see each other on other discord servers, there's an understanding that we don't "out" each other without permission!

As an "older" godspousing discord (coming up on 4 years soon!), we have the benefit of past knowledge. We've been through all the varieties of godspousing drama, and we have policies in place to help prevent those from happening again.

The Cons:

Since it's invite-only, we rely on members to invite other people. This other option is literally this kind of Tumblr advertisement. In order to join, you do have to answer me these questions three in a DM. We check for all the basic red and yellow flags -- appropriation, homophobia, racism, etc -- but also take note of things that might be a problem in the future.

When people get mad at our closed community, they tend to use that against us even if the closed aspect benefited them previously. If you've seen complaints and call out posts on Tumblr before, it's usually because someone did something stupid and got banned, so now they're trying to take us down. We've gotten called a cult, I've gotten called a narcissist (derogative), people have turned around to make their own discords to compete with us. There's nothing we can really do to prevent this other than reblog and counter, but sometimes it's not worth it.

We don't allow appropriation. Lilith is Jewish, you should be Jewish or converting to work with her. Celtic is a label of multiple different nations, not just Ireland. Western chakras are appropriated and disconnected from their original dharmic practices. We're really clear on not allowing appropriation, but that's like 50% of the reason people get banned and start blasting us on Tumblr, is because we don't allow them to steal. Is it a cult if the "forced upon" belief is "hey don't steal?"

Why Being Invite-Only is Necessary:

People lie to us to join, they hide their age, their name, their past history of appropriation. They hide their godspouse or spirit partner's names and then get shocked pikachu when we're not okay with ghosts of dead murderers being around. Can you imagine how much worse it would be if our community was publicly accessible?

We aren't a zoo. Every few years, we prune our lurkers who don't reply to an activity check (after months of being warned and direct messages about it) so we know exactly how many people are around. We don't have hundreds of non-active members sipping tea and watching us confess fears and worries about our intimate lives. We don't allow people who are casually interested to join, only people who are seriously wanting to start godspousing. We don't allow researchers, we don't allow people who have only just heard of godspousing and found our post.

The community is mostly self-moderating, but on the occasions that we have problem members, the workload goes from 10% to 110%. We've had people say they're married to spirit "X" and then spirit X turns out to literally be a serial killer. We've had people who claim to be indigenous and Jewish and practice Shinto (all things we don't challenge directly, as it could be true) but then step on their own feet and admit they're not Jewish at all, they were just thinking about converting, they went to a Shinto shrine and a powwow once, so it's okay. We've had people who blamed a specific god for COVID and said it was actually a good thing. We've had people have a villainous Pop Culture partner, which is fine, but then they started posting on tumblr about how genocide is good actually. And these aren't even touching on the casual TERFs, racists, and p*dos that worm their way in without anyone noticing. These were people who were actively invited. A public server would be a billion times worse.

So, at the end of it, just go check out our regular advertisement and see if you want to join.

Maybe we have a lot of rules. Maybe we seem very wordy in all the things we do or don't allow. But, damn y'all, it's for a reason. And the reason is to keep our server safe and healthy!

[pastoralnhappy]

Jonah and the Whale

Chapter 13: Enormously Awkward but Enormously in Love

The seminary courtyard was a bustling hub of activity, filled with the sounds of conversation and the occasional laughter. Jonah and Samuel sat side by side on a bench, their large bodies filling the space. Clad in their black cassocks, they were a striking pair, their size commanding attention wherever they went.

Despite their imposing presence, there was a palpable sense of awkwardness between them. Both were deeply in love, yet unsure of how to navigate the new territory of their relationship. Their mutual affection was clear, but expressing it in the context of their lives as seminarians posed unique challenges.

Jonah glanced over at Samuel, who was engrossed in his phone, his fingers tapping rapidly on the screen. Jonah's heart swelled with affection, but he couldn't help feeling a bit shy. "What are you looking at?" he asked, trying to break the ice.

Samuel looked up, a smile spreading across his face. "Just checking some messages. Father Thomas sent a funny meme. Want to see?"

Jonah leaned in, their bodies pressing together briefly. The sensation was both comforting and exhilarating. "Sure," he said, chuckling as he looked at the screen.

As they shared a laugh, the awkwardness began to melt away. They might have been enormous in size, but their hearts were just as large, filled with love and the desire to support one another. Jonah felt a surge of confidence and decided to be more open about his feelings.

"You know," Jonah began, his voice soft, "I'm really glad we're doing this together. It's... nice to have someone who understands."

Samuel turned to face him, his expression tender. "I feel the same way, Jonah. I know it's not always easy, but having you by my side makes everything better."

Jonah blushed, feeling the warmth of Samuel's words. He reached out, his hand finding Samuel's under the folds of their cassocks. The touch was gentle, a silent affirmation of their bond. "I love you," Jonah said quietly, the words carrying a weight of sincerity and emotion.

Samuel's eyes softened, and he squeezed Jonah's hand. "I love you too, Jonah. More than words can say."

The moment was intimate and profound, a quiet declaration of their feelings amidst the everyday bustle of the seminary. They sat in comfortable silence, their hands still entwined, drawing strength and comfort from each other.

As the day went on, they found themselves navigating the awkwardness with humor and patience. During lunch, Jonah accidentally dropped a piece of bread, and they both burst into laughter as they tried to pick it up, their large bodies making the task comically challenging.

"Who knew picking up bread could be so difficult?" Jonah joked, his cheeks flushed from laughter.

"At least we're in this together," Samuel replied, grinning. "Makes the awkward moments more bearable."

Their days were filled with such moments—clumsy, endearing, and filled with love. They supported each other through the awkwardness, their bond growing stronger with each shared laugh and quiet conversation.

One evening, after a particularly long day of studies and prayers, they retreated to their room, seeking solace in each other's company. They sat on Jonah's bed, their legs touching, the closeness a comforting presence.

"Do you ever think about the future?" Jonah asked, his voice thoughtful. "About what it will be like for us?"

Samuel nodded, his eyes filled with warmth. "I do. And I believe that as long as we're together, we'll be okay. We have each other, and that's enough."

Jonah smiled, feeling a sense of peace wash over him. "You're right. We'll figure it out, one day at a time."

As they lay side by side, the room filled with the soft sounds of their breathing, Jonah realized that the awkwardness was just a part of their journey. It made their relationship unique, adding a layer of depth and authenticity. They were enormously awkward, but they were also enormously in love, and that made every moment worth it.

[phatburd]

Title: The Marshal’s Court

Genre: Romantic Dramedy (In the style of Bridgerton)

Setting: The First French Empire, Napoleon’s Marshals as the central characters

Season 1, Episode 7: “Fractures and Farewells”

Episode Synopsis:

As Season 1 nears its conclusion, the stakes have never been higher for Napoleon’s Marshals. Junot’s mental state continues to decline, and the Marshals face a difficult decision on whether to step in before he becomes a danger to himself and others. Meanwhile, Bessières and Murat struggle with their relationship after the kiss, with Bessières seeking guidance from his faith and Murat feeling increasingly alienated. Davout and Bernadotte’s rivalry reaches a critical breaking point, forcing Napoleon to take drastic action to restore order. And in the midst of it all, Soult faces an unexpected challenge that threatens his role both as a Marshal and as the group’s unofficial chef.

The episode sets the stage for an explosive finale as fractures widen, emotions flare, and loyalties are tested.

Opening Scene: Junot’s Decline

The episode opens with a somber tone as Junot is seen sitting alone in the courtyard, muttering to himself and pacing in circles. His once sharp uniform is disheveled, and his eyes have a wild, distant look. Lannes and Ney watch from a distance, clearly concerned but unsure of how to approach him.

“Do we talk to him?” Ney asks, frowning.

Lannes shakes his head. “He’s not the man he used to be. I’m not sure talking will help.”

The camera follows Junot as he stares blankly at the sky, lost in thought. Suddenly, he draws his sword and begins swiping at thin air, as if imagining an invisible enemy. The scene is haunting, and it’s clear that Junot’s deterioration is accelerating.

Later, Soult, noticing Junot’s state, quietly sends him another éclair. When Junot receives it, he pauses, his expression softening slightly. For a brief moment, there’s a glimmer of the old Junot as he takes a bite and smiles faintly.

“Thank you, Soult,” he whispers to himself, as if his old friend can hear him.

Fan Reactions: The scene with Junot and the éclair tugs at viewers’ hearts, with fans continuing to rally behind the #SaveJunot movement. One popular meme shows Junot looking at the éclair with the caption, “An éclair a day keeps the madness at bay… for now.” Fans appreciate the tender moment of kindness from Soult, with many speculating that this small gesture might be the only thing keeping Junot from completely unraveling.

Murat and Bessières: After the Kiss

The tension between Murat and Bessières is palpable throughout the episode. After their kiss in Episode 6, the two have barely spoken, and the distance between them is becoming more obvious. Murat, ever the passionate and impulsive one, feels rejected by Bessières’ sudden retreat and is growing increasingly frustrated.

Bessières, on the other hand, is consumed by guilt. In a quiet moment, we see him in the church once again, seeking guidance from the priest. He kneels, his head bowed, and confesses his inner turmoil.

“I don’t know what to do, Father. I care for him, but I fear I’m losing my way.”

The priest listens, but his advice is cryptic: “The heart is a battlefield too, my son. But you must decide whether you fight for love or surrender to guilt.”

Later, Murat confronts Bessières in a secluded part of the palace gardens.

“I can’t keep doing this, Bessières. One moment, you’re with me, and the next, you run away.”

Bessières, looking torn, simply replies, “It’s not that simple.”

Their conversation is cut short when Napoleon summons them both for an urgent meeting, leaving their relationship hanging in limbo.

Fan Reactions: The Bessimu fandom is in full swing, with fans divided over whether Bessières should follow his heart or his faith. #BessimuOnceMore trends as fans eagerly await more development between the two. One fan tweets, “Bessières, just tell Murat how you really feel! Confession won’t fix this!” Memes showing Murat frustrated with Bessières’ indecision quickly circulate, with captions like, “When your heart says yes but your rosary says no.”

Davout vs. Bernadotte: The Breaking Point

The rivalry between Davout and Bernadotte comes to a head in this episode. During a heated strategy session with Napoleon, Bernadotte makes one final attempt to undermine Davout’s authority by publicly questioning his competence.

“You think you’re better than the rest of us, Davout. But all that discipline and cold calculation won’t save you when you’re outnumbered on the battlefield.”

Davout, calm at first, finally snaps. He stands, his face cold with fury, and delivers a chilling response.

“At least I lead with more than my tongue. The battlefield requires strategy, not just charm.”

The room falls silent as the tension becomes unbearable. Napoleon, clearly frustrated with the constant infighting, finally slams his hand on the table.

“Enough!” he shouts. “I will not have my Marshals tearing each other apart while the Empire’s enemies gather strength. Bernadotte, you’re relieved of command for the upcoming campaign.”

Bernadotte is stunned. His face hardens, and it’s clear that this humiliation will have lasting consequences.

Fan Reactions: Fans are ecstatic about Davout’s takedown of Bernadotte. #TeamDavout trends yet again, with fans celebrating his icy composure. Memes of Bernadotte’s shocked face circulate with captions like, “When you think you’re the hero but get benched.” However, some fans are worried about Bernadotte’s next move, with theories emerging that he might seek revenge in a future episode.

Soult’s Challenge: The Chef Faces Fire

In the subplot, Soult is preparing another grand feast for Napoleon and foreign dignitaries. However, his plans are derailed when he receives word of a surprise inspection from Napoleon. The stress of balancing military duties and his baking passion begins to overwhelm him, and we see Soult frantically juggling both tasks, making battle plans while overseeing pastry preparations.

At one point, Lefebvre enters the kitchen to find Soult juggling both a sword and a whisk. “You’re going to need more than éclairs to survive this one, Soult,” Lefebvre quips.

Despite the mounting pressure, Soult manages to pull off a near-perfect feast, but it’s clear that the stress is taking a toll on him.

Fan Reactions: The #SoultBakes fandom is loving this subplot, with memes showing Soult wielding a sword in one hand and a whisk in the other. One fan tweets, “Soult: Conqueror of Europe AND the kitchen. What can’t he do?” However, there’s growing concern that Soult may be reaching his breaking point, with fans speculating that the stress of balancing two worlds will eventually catch up to him.

Closing Scene: The Cliffhanger Setup

The episode ends with a sudden and unexpected development. As the Marshals prepare for their next campaign, Napoleon receives word that Prussia is mobilizing its forces, threatening to strike at France’s vulnerable eastern borders. The threat is immediate and serious.

Napoleon summons his Marshals for an emergency meeting, and tensions are high. The camera zooms in on each of their faces—Davout remains stoic, Bernadotte seethes in the background, Murat looks distracted (still thinking about Bessières), and Junot seems on the verge of another breakdown.

The episode ends with Napoleon delivering a single line: “We march east.”

Cut to black.

Fan Reactions: The cliffhanger leaves fans reeling. The sudden threat of Prussia has everyone buzzing, with fans speculating that the season will end with a massive battle. Memes of Napoleon dramatically declaring, “We march east,” flood social media. One fan tweets, “You know it’s serious when even Murat stops thinking about Bessières for five minutes.” Theories abound about how the season will end, with many predicting that Junot’s breakdown will coincide with the looming conflict.

Teasers for Episode 8:

• The Prussian threat becomes real as the Marshals prepare for a major battle, but cracks in their unity threaten to tear them apart on the eve of war.

• Junot’s mental state continues to deteriorate, and the Marshals must decide if he is still fit for command—or if they must act to protect him from himself.

• Bessières is forced to confront his feelings for Murat when they are sent on a joint mission, but will he push Murat away again?

• Bernadotte plots his next move after his humiliation, and it might spell trouble for Napoleon’s plans.

The episode sets the stage for a season-ending cliffhanger, with tensions mounting both on and off the battlefield. Fans are already speculating about how the season will conclude, with many predicting that the battle with Prussia will either unite the Marshals—or destroy them.

[imreallyloveleee]

for @bughead-bones and @stonerbughead who asked about my s5 murder mystery au: i plotted like 90% of this story out a year or two ago. who knows if i'll ever actually write it all, but if i do, it's going to switch POVs between betty, jughead & veronica. i've never written veronica's pov before, so that's been a little challenging. here's a snippet from jug's pov!

“Jess, have you seen my tie?”

“Nope.”

Jughead emerges from the bathroom to find her sprawled out across the motel room bed, tapping away at her phone. He presses two fingers to his temple, willing away the headache just barely beginning to throb. “Okay, well could you help me look for it? We’re going to be late.”

“I don’t think you have to wear a tie at a funeral.” Jessica slinks off of the bed anyway, leaning halfway over the chipped tv stand to peer behind it. He resists the urge to redirect her towards a more plausible spot, like the pile of clothes she’s left pooled by the foot of the bed. 

“I want to,” he replies tightly. He lifts her leather jacket off the seat of the desk chair — bingo. “Help me tie this?”

She complies, kissing his cheek as she loops the tie around his neck. “You seem really antsy about this.” She tightens the knot at the base of his throat and then tugs on the end a little, teasing, as she steps back.

“I’m about to give a eulogy for my best childhood friend.” 

“Yeah, your best friend who stole your girlfriend.” Jessica raises one eyebrow before laying back on the bed again, toying idly with the end of her long, black braid. 

Sometimes he wishes he’d never told her about that. If Betty’s at the funeral today, and Jessica figures out who she is, god only knows what she’ll say.

God only knows what he’ll say. It’s been a little over a year since they — he? she? does it matter? — ended whatever you’d call the semi-regular communication they’d carried on with ever since the breakup. For six years they’d texted back and forth: book recommendations, professional accomplishments, the occasional meme that made them think of one another. 

None of it came close to scratching the surface of their former relationship. But he misses it. He still finds himself reaching for his phone when he reads an article or a line in a novel that he thinks she’d like. Every time, he forces himself to set it aside. Her silence spoke for her, loud and clear: she doesn’t want to hear from him.

Jughead turns back towards the bathroom mirror, pretending to fiddle with his hair. “That was seven years ago.”

And I’m over it. And I’ve forgiven him. All the words Jughead knows he should say — the words that he thinks, most days, are true — congeal like putty in his mouth, unable to emerge fully formed.

“And now he’s dead,” he adds, unnecessarily. 

It still feels unreal, conceptually speaking: Archie is dead. Sure, he may have had some brushes with death — Jughead’s had more than a few of his own — but Archie Andrews wasn’t the kind of person who would just die. He half expects that when he walks into the church this afternoon, Archie will be standing right there, gathered with all their old friends and acquaintances, laughing at what a gullible sucker Jughead’s become in his not-yet-old age.

But the article is still there loaded on his phone, same as it was one week ago when JB had texted him the link: LOCAL ACTIVIST FOUND DEAD. Friends of Archie Andrews, 25, say they have questions. 

The piece went on to quote names Jughead used to encounter on a daily basis: Local businesswoman Toni Topaz. Riverdale Sheriff Tom Keller. Town coroner Dr. Curdle Jr. It read almost like something he himself had penned as a macabre writing exercise, filling in the blanks of a murder mystery plot with the people who had once formed the landscape of his own life. 

[worldofheroes]

another request.

Simon, Rebecca, and Henry were amazed at the actress! reader is fluent in Japanese. So, while they are on Jimmy Fallon's show to promote the Mission Impossible: Fallout film, Simon mentioned how fluent the reader is in Japanese. Tom, who has no idea anything about the reader being multilingual After a few explanations of how she became fluent (probably because of watching many animes and imitating the voices of characters and behaviors), Jimmy decided to challenge her. Jimmy will say an iconic anime line of male and female characters in English and the reader will translate it into Japanese, imitating the characters' voices.

Until Jimmy found a word something interesting... "Y/n, say Ara-ara," Jimmy said. The reader was quite surprised. (there's a meme about this.)

"You want me to say ara-ara?" The reader asked, playfully.

"Yeah," Simon replied.

"Ara-ara?" She asked playfully again.

"Did I stutter?" Jimmy asked too.

"Ara-ara!" She said again, playfully. After a few seconds of silence, she cleared her throat and say... "Ara-ara..." In a seductive, flirtatious tone. They were all surprised and Tom, who was drinking a bottle of water got choked on his drink which makes it funnier.

You decide whatever the ending will be.

Ooh okay, okay! Will have to do a little research on this one 😂 I am familiar with the ara-ara meme but I’ve just scratched the surface of animes… my husband actually started to get me to watch animes recently lol so I’m new to this culture 😅

[deathfavor]

ADDRESSING COMMON QUESTIONS because even though I've said and state this in my rules, i want to make it clear by actually writing it out myself.

HOW MANY MEMES CAN I SEND? I genuinely mean it when I say send as many as you want. I've had several people send me 20+ memes at once and i sit there Delighted to see them every time. More memes often means multiple dynamics and different situations, and can give me a lot more to work with if i'm feeling a certain genre of writing. The question is how often do you want to see me in your notifs because i do try to answer all the memes I get. So it's a challenge. You spam me, I spam you. mutual exchange. ( and 4 is NOT spamming okay, you gotta hit at least 8 before you can call it spamming in this establishment. )

YOU REBLOGGED THIS MEME AGES AGO, CAN I STILL SEND SOMETHING IN? My memes don't have any time limits on them. I could have reblogged it back in January and if you want to send it in, go for it. The only ones might be like the 'next ten asks' memes since those are for 10 but the common, typical meme? Go wild.

IS IT OKAY TO TURN THIS INTO A THREAD? I literally write my meme replies with the intention of making it easier for people to continue if they want to. New post, and i try to end my meme responses in a way that lets people continue them with ease. I LOVE threads, I've legitimately had 15+ threads with just one person ( not including all my threads with others). So please, if you want to turn something into a thread, literally just take it and run. I'm genuinely thrilled every time someone is inspired or liked a response enough to continue it.

SOMEONE ALREADY ANSWERED THIS OPEN - CAN I STILL ANSWER IT? Yes! This isn't a lottery ticket or first come first serve. If you see an open and you want to answer it, go for it! I encourage it! People can take one open and make them vastly different and its so fun to see how people interpret or build the scenario or how different characters and dynamics lead to different things even from the same open!

I WANT TO WRITE WITH [MUSE] BUT I DON'T KNOW THEM. CAN I STILL? / DO YOU WRITE CROSSOVERS ? Yes! I'll be honest here. I am FAR, FAR more prone to straight up crossovers than making fandom specific AUs. Sure, I sometimes might. But I love straight up crossovers way more, whether its your muse coming to my world or mine going ot yours. Most of my muses come from sources where ending up in another universe could genuinely happen as well so its not hard to do. I'm always happy to discuss who goes to what world. I think its fun ; plus it makes muse interactions all the more genuine for me in a way since if I don't know the muse, it doesn't somehow influence my muse either. And I'm always happy to share any relevant information to them!

DO YOU WRITE WITH OCS / CANON DIVERGENT / ETC. I do! I genuinely love writing with OCs and I know sometimes it can be hard. I've personally dropped all my OCs because of that. So I try my best to give them attention and build bonds between the characters. And same goes for Canon Divergent! It might need some discussion depending if it effects my muse somehow, but I am genuinely absolutely here for it !

I hope some of this might offer relief to you guys who might have been wondering about these things. I tried to think up common questions / sources of anxiety that people have in the RPC and really write it out here. I'm sure I've missed some and you can feel free to write in the comments or send an ask if there's a question / topic you're wondering about. I definitely feel like i'm missing some pretty obvious ones, but I think these are ones that I've had come up most frequently when interating with new people so maybe this will offer

[lultimagoccia]

Knowing your partner well can potentially make writing together a lot easier

Name: castoro. cast for short!

Pronouns: they / them.

Preference of communication: dms are good! i do have a discord, just know i can be slow to reply to messages thanks to Bad Memory Brain + Low Social Battery. i promise i do wanna talk to people and rp, just really goin' through it with my exciting brain struggles.

Name of muse: giuseppe ’ peppino ’ sacchetti spaghetti.

Experience/how long (months/years?): i've been making up stories and embodying characters who aren't me basically my entire life. i honestly don't know who i'd be without fun pretendy times. in terms of online rp, i've been goin' since i was 13, so almost 20 years at this point. i've been on tumblr since 2011, and before that, i've used forums, chatboxes, online messengers, deviantART notes, i've done it all!

Best experience: a forum rp based on the movie " 9 " by shane acker. met some truly incredible people through that experience ( including my gf with whom i had a beautiful baby! ) and just overall had a great time weaving this big intricate plot together that spanned many months. i miss that level of cooperative plotting and threading, it was really fun and engaging.

RP pet peeves/dealbreakers: admittedly i very rarely unfollow / break a mutual with someone, so my threshold of tolerance is fairly high. i understand everyone has their bad days and that sometimes the only place a person can blow off steam or unwind is in the rpc. that said, i steer clear of people that display a consistent level of callousness, unkindness, or overall rude behavior ooc. i don't care how good a person's writing is, rp is a social hobby and if a person is gonna treat fellow players like shit all the time, nobody owes them interactions. no ooc / ic divide is also a big deal breaker.

Muse preference (fluff, angst or smut?): i find i really enjoy charged interactions, either moments of action or elevated emotion. i love seeing what happens when two muses just talk and share some really interesting chemistry that naturally progresses the plot. of course i love fluff and angst and all, but those kinds of things work best when i'm really invested in the muses earning that moment of sweetness after a lot of struggle or fighting their way through a hard time together. i love smut in theory, but i'm mega shy about writing it with new people. i think the stuff i enjoy in an erotic context is just so deeply personal, it's hard to share casually unless i really trust the other mun and gel with their writing style.

Plots or memes: for sure memes, i'm horrible at plotting out ideas unless i'm super familiar with the other person and their muse. i love brainstorming ideas and seeing where those vibes go, rather than planning out details of what's gonna happen.

Long or short replies: somewhere in - between i'd say. just depends on the rhythm of the scene and what best keeps things moving.

Best time to write: usually when i'm caffeinated and have had a nap. fully restored and ready to shift into Focus Mode babey.

Are you like your muse: while i can def relate to his struggles with intense anxiety and all the incredibly inconvenient ways that it manifests, i'm not a lot like pepp. which has proven to be a fun writing challenge, tbh! i enjoy trying to get into the heads of characters with their own set of morals and beliefs separate of my own, try to understand why they think and act like they do.

tagged by: @crvptd said do, so i do tagging: u

[truthdogg]

I was looking back over some of my #dear uncle lou posts from years ago, to see how much the right wing conversation has changed since I started this blog, and it struck me how little it actually has. That surprised me a bit because I started this back when Bush was in office.

But I also noticed how naive I was in my replies. I very rarely ever sent any of them, but I now have a different lens on the emails that were forwarded to me. That’s probably partly because I read so many of them and got fairly cynical, but it’s also due to a change in the stated goals of politicians since then. George W Bush’s party differed from Trump’s in that regard, but that difference was mainly in terms of style and level of hubris.

My responses tended to point out how the emails or memes were hypocritical, the policies were inhumane and cruel, or that they were supporting something that was wholly un-democratic. I knew my replies were ineffective, and they were mostly for me to try and understand what was being spoken about on that side of the aisle. But now when I re-read the forwards I received almost all I see is a basic & fundamental support for white supremacist Christian nationalist rule.

It’s obvious now that the family members sharing those forwards via email or on their Facebook pages didn’t care about hypocrisy, they reveled in it and wanted to strengthen it with the law. Cruelty to others who look or live differently was never incidental, it was the main point. They didn’t mind sharing ideas that undermined democracy; that was their intent to keep from losing power.

So while the stated goal may have evolved from simply owning the libs or attacking top Democrats, to building a white-supremacist Christian nationalist society, that latter goal has always been there, underlying the aggressive demonization of anyone to the left of Ronald Reagan. Only now, that end goal reads through the text more clearly than I had ever noticed back when Bush was in office. Just like how Bush’s staff claimed to “impose their own reality,” when Trump’s promoted “alternative facts,” they were doing the same thing, but today’s right-wing partisans refuse to hide their meanings quite as carefully.

That end goal was and is about re-establishing white rule and christian dominance nationwide, even though it never truly left us. The intent of old-school conservatives like my Uncle Lou, Aunt Dottie and others who have since passed, was to push our society back to a point well before the civil rights movement, when a rigid white Christian patriarchal culture could not be safely challenged. They were nice family members, good cooks, entertaining storytellers, and completely unreasonable political absolutists, bigots, and racists. There was no golden age of moderate conservatism, just a bunch of people who pretended to be reasonable because they were rarely if ever publicly opposed.

It’s fairly clear from a look back at right-wing memes and propaganda that even if the language was understood by many of us differently 15 years ago, it has not changed. The American right still desperately seeks a return to dominance in the face of declining demographics, just like what it achieved in the 18th, 19th, and 20th centuries.