#But my politics is if you like it you reblog it. If you like you write a comment under that fanfic even just two lines. You put an effort

[xenodelic]

Someone came onto one of my posts and started saying stuff like "real animals can't talk / post on tumblr / whatever". Typically anti-otherkin stuff. I looked at their blog briefly, expecting a typical troll. But instead I found, a legitimate blog, of a vaguely left leaning person. They were reblogging stuff about ableism, and trans rights, and children's lack of autonomy in our society.

And i just think, it kinda proves to me that a lot of self proclaimed leftists and progressives don't actually have any sort of core values that drive their political views. Because someone who is against ableism and transphobia and removal of autonomy, sounds like someone who has the core value of accepting people for who they are, no matter how unusual it may seem.

But, clearly, they don't. Because they were going out of their way to bully nonhumans for our identities, and trying to rhetorically argue us out of existence. We don't fit their understanding of the world, so they felt compelled to make rude comments. This person does not actually align themselves to any core values of respect and tolerance, they've just decided that they know which groups deserve it and which don't. And furthermore, upon deciding we don't deserve it, that they're entitled to bully us (presumably until we agree to conform)!

Which is, fundamentally no different than right wing politics. They've also decided they know which groups deserve acceptance, their pool is just narrower than the average leftist.

This is all to say, that it's very important for us all to examine what our core values are and why. Why do we tolerate certain groups of people, and not others? Why is it important to be inclusive, and to not bully people? How do I respond when I encounter someone I don't understand, or someone that makes me viscerally uncomfortable? Can rights be revoked? What rights are unalienable and why?

Having a core set of values to guide you will help you not make a fool out of yourself when you encounter someone or something that don't fit your current understanding of the world. If you encounter something that doesn't fit your understanding, then it's your understanding that should change.

[requiemforthepoets]

this time, i’ll love you much better

PAIRING: fernando alonso x ex-wife!reader

SUMMARY: after twelve long years, sofia finally got the chance to meet you, and experienced what it was like to feel the love of a mother.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect to the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: talk of divorce, typographical errors, not proofread, and twin switching

WORD COUNT: 9.2k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: part 2! this whole chapter focuses on you and sofia’s bonding or sofia getting to know you more. tag list is open for this series, just leave a comment or you can message me directly. your reblogs and comments are highly appreciated. hope you’ll enjoy this second part of the series!

TWO - SINGAPORE

𖤓 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 ☽

The car smoothly glided down the driveway, passing rows of stately mansions in Nassim Road, each grander than the last. Sofia leaned her head against the window, her heart pounding as the cityscape of Singapore blurred by, until the sleek black car came to a halt in front of a mansion that seemed to belong more to a dream than reality. The house stood tall, regal, with sprawling gardens that framed the entrance like something straight out of a fairytale. Tall columns stretched up toward the sky, and the front door gleamed in the afternoon light, welcoming her, or rather, welcoming Jullianna, home.

Sofia blinked, taking it all in. She could not help but marvel in awe at the elegance of the estate, the manicured lawns, and the sense of quiet luxury that surrounded it. It was overwhelming in the best way, yet also strangely so foreign. This was your world, and it felt like she was about to step into an unfamiliar territory, something foreign that did not quite belong to her, yet it was.

The driver opened the door, and Sofia slid out, her fingers brushing the sleek fabric of her outfit as she caught sight of Martin, the major-domo that she instantly recognized in Jullianna’s chart, was already making his way to the trunk. He was swift and efficient, unloading her luggage with precision. As he lifted her suitcase, Sofia noticed the faint look of recognition on his face, though it was quickly masked with a polite smile as he greeted her.

“Welcome home, Miss Jullianna.” Martin said, tone respectful but warm.

“Thank you.” Sofia replied, trying her best to keep her voice steady, mimicking Jullianna’s mannerisms as best as she could.

The name Jullianna sounded so foreign in her mouth, but it was becoming natural as she slipped further into the role. Her heart pounded in her chest as she followed Martin up the entrance, Sofia’s gaze lingering on the ornate details of the house. The front steps were wide, leading up to an intricately carved door, and as Sofia entered, she could almost feel the weight of all the eyes that must have admired this mansion in the past. With each step she felt like it carried her close to something significant—closer to you.

Martin opened the door smoothly, and Sofia stepped inside. The foyer before her was vast and sun-filled, with high ceilings that seemed to stretch endlessly. Marble floors gleamed beneath her feet, their polished surface reflecting the soft light that poured in through large windows. Sofia paused for a moment to take in the grandeur of it all, the house felt immense, each corner more beautiful than the last. There were towering columns lining the space, delicate chandeliers hanging overhead, their crystal pendants glinting as they caught the sunlight.

Sofia’s eyes were drawn to the walls, which were adorned with expertly framed photographs, each one carefully placed to tell a story of the family within. Her breath caught as she saw the portraits of Jullianna, some with her as a little girl, others of her dressed in elegant gowns at galas, always smiling, and always poised. Then there were the more professional shots—covers of Tatler Asia, Harper’s Bazaar, and Vogue, with you gracing the glossy pages, each picture exuding an effortless grace.

But the one that caught her attention the most was the grand portrait in the center of the room. It was you and Jullianna, a moment frozen in time, with the both of you dressed in high-end fashion, your faces glowing with affection. Sofia couldn’t help but stare at it, her eyes tracing the lines of your face, and with how you held Jullianna close, the bond between you was very evident, and it made her chest tighten.

Sofia was so lost in thought, absorbing these fragments of life she had never lived, that she didn’t hear the sound of footsteps descending the grand staircase behind her.

“Jullianna!” Your voice called out, warm and delighted.

Sofia froze for a moment, the sound of her name—Jullianna’s name, breaking through her thoughts. She turned around, and there you were, walking down the marble staircase with a radiant smile on your face.

The sight of you stunned Sofia. You were more beautiful than any photograph could have captured. Graceful and poised, yet full of life, you seemed almost ethereal as the sunlight streaming through the windows cast a soft glow around you. Sofia’s breath caught in her throat as tears immediately pricked her eyes. She could not believe it, she was finally seeing you—not just in the photos, or stories that Jullianna had shared, but in real life. In the flesh.

“Oh, my darling girl!” You said, brimming with emotions, with outstretched arms as you hurried towards her.

Sofia moved toward you instinctively, meeting you halfway as you enveloped her in a warm hug. The moment your arms wrapped around her, she felt her resolve begin to crumble. She blinked rapidly, but it was no use. The tears were already spilling down her cheeks.

“I missed you so much.” Sofia whispered, her voice trembling as she buried her face in your shoulder.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to get a good look at her, and your expression shifted from happiness to surprise as you took in her brand new appearance. Your hands rested gently on her shoulders as you studied her closely.

“Your hair,” you said, eyes wide with astonishment. “It’s short! It looks so good on you!”

“I met someone at camp who cuts hair,” she said, managing a watery smile, her hand brushing self-consciously over the ends of her freshly cropped hair. “Do you hate it?”

“Hate it?” You repeated, shaking your head with a laugh. “Darling, it suits you beautifully. I think it makes you look so grown-up.”

“Wait a second,” you leaned in closer, inspecting her ears. “Are those piercings I see? Since when?”

Sofia’s fingers instinctively flew to her earlobes, which were now adorned with delicate studs. “Um, it was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing at camp. Do you hate those?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head again. “No, no. It’s just my Jullianna, afraid of needles? I can’t believe you went through with it.”

“No more surprises, I promise.” She chuckled nervously, feeling the weight of your gaze as you took her in, still marveling at the changes.

But your expression softened as you noticed the tears still glistening in her eyes. You knelt down to her level, cupping Sofia’s face gently in your hands.

“What’s wrong, my love?” You asked, your voice low and soothing. With your thumbs, you wiped away a stray tear that had slipped down her cheek. “Why are you crying?”

Sofia’s bottom lip trembled slightly, and for a moment, she hesitated, really unsure how to explain the emotions surging within her.

“It’s just…happy tears,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I missed you so much. It feels like it’s been forever.”

“Oh, my sweet girl.” You murmured, pulling her close again, and pressing a tender kiss to her temple. “I missed you too. But you’re home now, and that’s all that matters.”

Sofia clung to you tightly, her eyes closed as she tried to commit the moment to memory. For so long, she had dreamed about this, what it would be like to meet you, to feel your embrace. Now that it was finally happening, it felt both overwhelming and comforting all at once. You stood up and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Come, let’s sit and catch up. I want to hear all about camp.” You said, tone full of curiosity and warmth.

You and Sofia sat together in the sun-dappled room, it is the room where you always retreat to whenever you need time to breathe when things tend to get overwhelming. The warm light was spilling through the large bay windows and casting a soft glow over the space. Sofia, seated on the plush velvet armchair across from you, couldn’t help but marvel at how effortlessly elegant everything was, from the carefully arranged floral centerpieces to the soft ticking of the antique clock on the mantel. This was the kind of life she had only seen in movies, and now, she was here, living it, even if just for a little while.

You poured tea into a delicate porcelain cup, the soft clinking of the silver spoon against the cup filling the air as you stirred in a bit of honey.

“So, tell me, darling,” you began, voice soft yet curious. “How was summer camp, did you enjoy it as much as you hoped you would?”

“I loved it,” Sofia said with a radiant smile that mirrored Jullianna’s perfectly. “It was so much fun. I didn’t think I’d like it this much, but it was even better that I expected.”

You leaned forward slightly, your eyes lighting up with relief and excitement. “Oh, I’m so glad to hear that! I was a little worried, you know. It was your first time going away for so long, and I wasn’t sure how you would manage being away from home.”

Sofia nodded, playing along so effortlessly. “Well, it was definitely a bit scary at first, but everyone was so welcoming. I made a lot of friends.”

“Did you like everyone there?” You asked, your tone gently probing.

“Yes, everyone was really really nice,” she said, voice laced with enthusiasm. “I even met a girl, she’s from Spain.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head slightly. “Spain? My goodness, that’s quite far. I hope her parents didn’t mind sending her all the way there for camp.”

“Oh, they didn’t mind,” she assured you quickly. “She’s been going to Camp Walden since she was ten, so it’s kind of like a tradition for her.”

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Since she was ten? That’s incredible! She must really love it there.”

“She does,” Sofia replied, nodding earnestly. “She told me all about how much she looks forward to it every year. She even showed me some pictures from past summers, she’s made so many memories there.”

You smiled, clearly touched by the story. “That’s wonderful, Lia. You know, I’m so happy you made such a lovely friend. It sounds like camp was a great experience for you.”

Sofia felt a pang of guilt in her chest but quickly pushed it aside. She could feel your pride in her, or rather, in Jullianna—and she did not want to ruin this moment.

“It really was,” she said softly, looking down at her hands. “Thank you for letting me go. I know you were hesitant in sending me to summer camp, but it was one of the best memories that I’ve made.”

“I’m really proud of you, darling,” you said, voice warm and full of affection, and reaching out, placing a gentle hand over hers. “It’s not always easy to try something new, especially something that takes you out of your comfort zone. But look at you! You’ve come back with wonderful stories and new friends. I’m so glad I agreed on Camp Walden, it sounds like it was just what you needed.”

Her heart swelled at your words. It was strange, hearing you call her darling, feeling the warmth of your hand over hers. Sofia had never experienced this before, this maternal tenderness, yeah sure, she always had a nanny growing up, but this one was different, and it made her feel a little sad. She wanted to soak in every moment, to etch every word and gesture into her memory.

“Thanks, Mama,” she said quietly, the word feeling foreign yet oddly right on her tongue. She looked up at you, he eyes glistening with emotion. “That really means a lot.”

You tilted your head, studying her for a moment, and asked her gently. “Are you alright, sweetheart? You seem…a little emotional.”

“I’m just…happy,” she admitted, swallowing hard, willing herself not to cry. “It’s been a while since I felt this happy.”

“Oh, my love,” you murmured as you squeezed her hand reassuringly. “That’s all I ever want for you, to be happy, and if camp helped you find a little more of that, then I couldn’t be more thrilled.”

Sofia smiled through the tears that threatened to spill over. For the first time in her life, she felt what it was like to truly have a mother, and she wanted to hold on to this feeling forever.

“I don’t want this to end.” she whispered to herself, the words echoing in her mind like a quiet prayer.

“Are you sure you’re really okay, darling?” You asked again, tone laced with concern.

“I’m okay,” Sofia said, her voice steady this time. “Really. I just missed you so much.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” you said softly, pulling her into a warm embrace. The simplicity of her words caught you off guard. “I missed you too. More than you can imagine.”

As Sofia rested her head against your shoulder, she closed her eyes, wishing this moment could stretch on forever. For the first time, she felt like she truly belonged.

The quiet rhythm of the room settled over you, you both sat in the living room, the warm silence punctuated by the occasional rustle of the breeze brushing against the windows. For you, these silences were familiar. Jullianna—your Jullianna, often fell into these comfortable quiet moments, lost in thought or simply content to sit beside you.

But this silence was different for Sofia. She found herself reveling in it, soaking up the warmth of a moment she had longed for her entire life. She shifted slightly in her seat, glancing toward you.

“Have you ever been to Spain, Mama?” She asked suddenly, he voice soft but curious.

“Spain?” You repeated, the word rolling off your tongue with an air of nostalgia you did not intend to show.

A rush of memories, long buried, flooded back without any warning—memories of warm Spanish evenings, laughter mingled with the crash of waves, and Fernando’s voice, full of excitement as he guided you through his homeland. You pushed the thoughts away as quickly as they came, sitting a little straighter in your seat.

“Yes. A long time ago, before you were born.” You said quickly, tone even, and offering a small smile. “Why do you ask?”

She hesitated for a moment, studying your face. Sofia could see the flicker of something, something wistful, maybe even a little painful, but she decided not to push.

“I was just curious.” She said simply, giving a small shrug.

“Well,” you said, your tone lightened as you leaned forward slightly. “Speaking of things from the past, there’s something we need to talk about that’s coming up very soon—your birthday!”

“My birthday?” She echoed, tilting her head. She was caught off guard by the sudden shift in the conversation. “But it’s still a month away.”

“Exactly!” You replied with a soft laugh, your eyes sparkling with excitement. “It’s still a month away, which means we need to start planning now. You know how quickly the days go by, and I want it to be perfect for you. Whatever you want to do, it’s your day, and we’ll make it happen.”

Sofia blinked again, her heart suddenly heavy with an unfamiliar ache. The way you spoke, with such earnestness and love, caught her off guard. She was not used to this—this kind of anticipation, this kind of care. She glanced down at her hands, fiddling nervously with the hem of her clothes.

“I…I don’t know yet,” she admitted quietly. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” you said softly. “You don’t have to decide right now. But I want you to know that whatever you want, we’ll make it happen. A party, a quiet day just for the two of us, a trip, just whatever your heart desires. It’s your special day, and I want you to enjoy it.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “That means a lot.”

You squeezed her hand gently, your thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Of course, darling. You’re my world, and I want to celebrate every moment we have together. Just let me know when you’ve decided, okay?”

“I will, Mama.” Sofia whispered.

True to your word, you had cleared your schedule for the day to make time for Sofia, but you could not cancel this one commitment. As you gathered your things by the foyer, you turned to Sofia with a smile.

“I really tried to cancel this too, but it’s for Tatler Asia, and they were so insistent. I hope you don’t mind tagging along.” You said warmly.

Sofia shook her hear quickly, her face lighting up. “Are you kidding? Of course I’d love to come, Mama.”

You raised an eyebrow, laughing softly. “Well, I’m glad you’re excited. Let’s make it a fun day, then. Just us girls.”

The family driver pulled up to the front, and soon the two of you were on your way to the photoshoot venue. The drive to the venue was quiet but comfortable, with the air filled with the unspoken warmth of having reconnected. Sofia gazed out of the window, watching the city buzz with life, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She still could not believe she was here, sitting beside you, going with you to a real photoshoot.

This was a world she had never seen before, and the excitement bubbled inside her like a secret she could not contain. As the car pulled up to the venue, Sofia’s eye widened at the sight of the gran building in front of her. The polished exterior gleamed in the afternoon sun, and the large glass doors reflected the bustling activity inside. Everything felt so glamorous, so different from her life in Spain. She glanced over at you as you instructed the family driver.

“Thank you, James,” you said with a polite smile. “You can head home now. We’ll be walking around the city right after and taking the taxi home later.”

James nodded and gave you a small bow before driving off. Sofia looked at you with a mix of Surprise and curiosity.

“We’re walking?” She asked, voice tinged with amusement.

“Sometimes, it’s nice to just walk. No schedules, no rush, just taking in the beauty the city has to offer.” You smiled warmly at her. Sofia nodded, her heart swelling at how grounded and graceful you were despite your glamorous life.

Inside, the studio was a hive of activity. The smell of hairspray and perfume hung in the air, blending with the faint hum of conversation and occasional clutter of equipment. Staff members hurried past, some carrying garment bags, others adjusting camera gears. The energy was infectious, and Sofia found herself wide-eyed, taking in every detail. When you stepped inside, a stylist approached you, clipboard in hand.

“You’re just in time,” she said, ushering you towards the back. “We’re ready for you in hair and makeup.”

You glanced at Sofia, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, leading her through the bustling crowd. “Come with me.”

In the makeup area, you settled into a high-backed chair as a team of stylists swarmed around you, discussing everything from your hair to the gown that you would be wearing for the photoshoot. Your assistant, a petite woman in her late 20s, with a sharp bob and an even sharper memory, appeared at your side, iPad in hand.

“Good day,” she greeted with a bright smile. “You look stunning already, as always.”

“Good day, Camille,” you replied, returning her smile. “Let’s hear it, what does the rest of my week look like?”

Camille began rattling off your schedule, her tone brisk yet pleasant. “After today’s shoot, you’re free for the rest of the day. But tomorrow, you have fittings for the New York Fashion Week—Versace and Valentino. Thursday is the campaign shoot for Dior, followed by a meeting with YSL, and lastly, Saturday is the charity luncheon at the Ritz.”

As she spoke, Sofia listened intently, trying to absorb every little detail. Camille suddenly turned to her, her face lighting up at the sight of Sofia.

“And Jullianna! It’s so good to see you again,” Camille said warmly. “It’s been a while since you came along to one of these, I’ve missed having you around.”

Sofia blinked, like a deer caught in the headlights, but managed to recover quickly. She returned the smile, her mind racing.

So, Jullianna usually comes to these things?

“It’s good to see you too, Camille,” Sofia said, her voice steady. “I’ve missed coming with Mama. It’s been a very busy summer for me. You know, summer camp and all.”

Camille nodded, clearly pleased. “I’ve been told. Well, you’re always such a delight to have around. Your mom lights up even more when you’re here.”

Sofia nodded, unsure of how to respond but touched by the sentiment. “I’m happy to be back, honestly, and it wasn’t a lie.”

You glanced at Sofia through the mirror, noticing how she was quietly observing everything. “She was very excited to come with me today, I’m glad she’s back again.”

Camille smiled. “You two are always such a team.”

Sofia felt a pang in her chest at those words. She glanced down, her fingers brushing over the hem of her skirt as she tried to process the unexpected emotions rising within her.

You reached out and gently touched her arm. “Are you alright, darling?”

She looked up and nodded quickly, giving you a small smile. “I’m fine. Everything just feels so exciting.”

“I’m glad you’re here with me. It’s a little chaotic, but it’s also wonderful, isn’t it?” You smiled at her, eyes softening.

Sofia nodded again, her smiling growing. “It really is.”

The stylists gave your hair one last spritz of hairspray and made minor adjustments to the hem of your gown before stepping back. Your final look was stunning, and you took a moment to admire yourself in front of the floor length mirror, running your hands gently down the shimmering fabric. Turning towards Sofia, you gave her a playful smile.

“So,” you said, spinning in place. “What do you think? Is it too much? Too over the top?”

“No way!” She exclaimed, her voice full of awe. “You look amazing, Mama! Really, really beautiful.”

You chuckled at her enthusiasm, stopping mid-spin to face her. “You sure? I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard.”

“Are you kidding? You look perfect!” Sofia said with conviction, her admiration shining through every word. She leaned forward in her seat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “Seriously, you’re like…a queen of something.”

The photographer called out, signaling that the photoshoot was about to begin. You blew a quick kiss to Sofia before stepping into position. The backdrop was a blend of muted grays and soft metallics, designed to compliment your gown. As the lights were adjusted and the photographer gave instructions, Sofia watched you in complete fascination. Every pose you struck, every subtle shift in expression, left her star struck.

“She’s so so cool. I can't believe she’s my Mama.” She whispered to herself and smiled as she leaned back on her chair.

Halfway through the shoot, the photographer suggested a more candid, relaxed pose. You turned to Sofia, an idea sparking in your mind,

“Come here, sweetheart.” You said as you extended your hand to her.

Sofia blinked, pointing at herself. “Me? Now?”

“Yes, you!” You said with a laugh. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Hesitant but intrigued, Sofia stood up and approached you. She looked out of place in her casual outfit compared to your glamorous attire, but the contrast made the moment all the more genuine.

You placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her close, whispering softly. “Just be yourself, okay?”

The photographer, already adjusting his camera, grinned. “This is perfect! Just keep talking to each other, forget that the camera is even here.”

You started joking with Sofia, recounting a funny memory from one of your past photoshoots. Sofia couldn’t help but laugh, her nerves easing as she leaned into you. Before long, the two of you were caught up in an impromptu moment—laughing, smiling, and even pulling silly faces. At one point, you pretended to teach her how to pose, guiding her arm into an exaggerated fashion stance that made the both of you burst into laughter. The photographer snapped away, capturing every genuine smile.

“Beautiful!” He said, nodding approvingly. “Absolutely beautiful.”

When the session wrapped, you turned to the photographer, still holding Sofia close. “Can I request something? Could you email me all of these candid shots? I want them framed, every single one.”

“Of course,” the photographer replied, clearly charmed by the two of you. “I’ll make sure you get them by the end of the day.”

Sofia looked up at you, her face glowing. “You’re really going to frame them?”

“Absolutely,” you said without hesitation. “They’re perfect. I’ll put them right in the hallway with the rest of our photos. What do you think?”

She nodded eagerly, a rare lump forming in her throat. “I think that’s…really nice.”

You then changed back into your everyday clothes, a chic yet understated outfit that looked impossibly elegant. Before leaving, you took a moment to thank every member of the crew.

“Wonderful job, as always,” you said warmly. “I really appreciate all your hard work.”

“I’ll email you the final documents for the new endorsements this evening,” Camille said efficiently as she caught up with you. “And I’ll also send over your finalized schedule for the New York Fashion Week.”

“Thank you, Camille,” you replied and grabbed your things. “Let me know if something else comes up.”

The sun was warm but not overwhelming as you and Sofia strolled through the bustling streets in the afternoon towards Paragon. The city was alive with energy, cars humming, scent of fresh coffee wafting from nearby cafés, and the occasional breeze rustling through the trees that lined the sidewalks. You slipped your arms around Sofia’s shoulder, drawing her close as the two of you walked side by side.

“Mama,” she began hesitantly, “have you ever thought about getting married again?”

The question had caught you off guard, and you stopped mid-step, turning to face her with an incredulous expression.

“Now where did that come from?” You asked. Laughing lightly, though there was a hint of nervousness in your tone.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “You looked so beautiful in that gown during the photoshoot, it just made me wonder. I mean, you’d look amazing as a bride. Like, really really amazing.”

“Are you imagining me walking down the aisle again?” You teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Sofia hesitated, then ventured further. “Not exactly, but it also made me wonder what kind of gown you wore. You know, the first time.”

“Oh?” You said, raising a brow. “Why the curiosity about your father?”

“Because you’ve never really talked about him,” she said softly as she looked up at you. “Not once, and well, I guess I can’t help but wonder.”

You sighed, the weight of her question settling over you like a delicate cloud. Before you could answer, your eyes caught sight of a stunning dress displayed in a boutique window up ahead, its elegant silhouette shimmering under the soft glow of the lights. You instinctively reached out to tug Sofia’s arm, pointing towards the window.

“Oh, look at that dress,” you said, voice lighter as you momentarily shifted focus. “Isn’t it stunning?”

Sofia blinked at you, her question hanging in the air as you walked closer to the boutique window. She gave a small, exasperated sigh, realizing what you were doing.

“Mama,” she said firmly but respectfully, stopping you in your tracks. When you turned to face her, her expression was a mix of determination and understanding. “You can’t avoid the topic forever.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the look in her eyes stopped you. It was not confrontational or accusing, it was patient and curious. Sighing again, this time deeper, you nodded.

“Alright,” you relented, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “What do you want to know?”

“What was he like?” Sofia asked immediately, tone soft but eager. She already knew what Fernando is like, but she wanted to hear it coming from you.

“Well, he was a lovely man. Very lovely,” you said, lips curled into a small smile, nostalgic smile as you thought about him. “Charming in his own way. He had this…presence about him that could light up a room.”

“Did you meet him here? In Singapore?” Sofia pressed.

“No,” you said as you shook your head. “I met him in London, during the British Grand Prix in Silverstone.”

Sofia’s brows furrowed slightly in surprise. Grand Prix was basically her whole life. “The Grand Prix? What were you doing there?”

“Because of your grandpa,” you explained, “your grandpapa was one of the major sponsors of the race that year. He insisted I accompany him to the event, it wasn’t really my scene back then, but he had his reasons for wanting me there.”

Just then, you reached the doors of a quaint little café tucked away from the main bustle of Paragon. Its inviting atmosphere beckoned, and you instinctively led Sofia inside. The two of you found a cozy corner table near a window, the gentle hum of conversation and the soft clinking of cups creating a warm background noise.

Once seated, you ordered drinks, an iced latte for yourself and a hot chocolate for Sofia, a few pastries as well. The server left with a polite nod, and Sofia turned her full attention back to you, her curiosity far from satisfied.

“So,” she said, leaning her elbows on the table, her chin resting on her hands. “What happened next?”

You raised a brow at her, a small smile playing on your lips. “You’re really not going to let this go, are you?”

She grinned cheekily, shaking her head. “Not a chance.”

“Alright, alright,” you said, chuckling and shaking your head at her persistence. “It’s quite a story.”

Sofia leaned forward slightly, her excitement evident. “Take your time, Mama. I want to hear everything.”

Your drinks had already been served at your table, and the hum of the café enveloped you and Sofia as you settled comfortably into your chairs, the delicate aroma of the fresh pastries mingling with the scent of coffee. Your iced latte and her steaming hot chocolate sat untouched between you, but neither of you seemed to notice. The weight of your ongoing conversation carried a different kind of warmth, one that softened the atmosphere between you.

“It’s funny,” you began, the corners of your lips curling into a small smile, “I wasn’t even supposed to leave your grandpapa’s side. He made it very clear that day I was to stay in the paddock with him, but I got bored and decided to wander around, and somehow, I got lost.” You chuckled softly at the memory.

“You? Lost?” She asked, her eyes wide with amusement, and tone teasing but affectionate. “I thought you were always composed and knew your way around everywhere.”

“Oh, how I wish,” you replied with a laugh. “Silverstone is a maze, especially when it’s packed, and I didn’t know a single soul. I was looking around, trying to figure out where I was supposed to go, and then I bumped right into him.”

“Papa?” She asked, voice tinged with excitement.

You nodded. “Yes. I nearly knocked the drink he was holding out of his hand. I was so flustered, apologizing left and right, and he just stood there, smiling at me.”

“Smiling, huh.” She smiled, trying to picture the moment.

“Yes,” you said, your gaze softening. “That smile of his, it was so warm and easy going. He looked at me like we had known each other forever, and then he introduced himself, as if I didn’t already know who he was from the posters around the paddock.”

Sofia giggled, clearly amused. “What did you say? Did you fangirl or something?”

You shook your head, laughing at the thought. “No, no. I was too embarrassed to even react. I just said, ‘I’m so sorry,’ and tried to walk away, but he stopped me, asked me if I was lost, and when I said yes, he offered to help.”

Sofia tilted her head thoughtfully. “So, what happened next?”

“We spent the rest of the day together,” you said, tone quieter now as you trace the lid of your drink. “He showed me around, introduced me to some of his team, and even made sure I found your grandpapa again. But by the time he brought me back, I didn’t want the day to end.”

Sofia studied you for a moment, then asked. “Was it love at first sight?”

“I knew you’d ask me that someday, you cheeky little girl!” You laughed and gave her a knowing look. “But yes, it was indeed love at first sight.”

Sofia grinned, clearly delighted by your response. “Well, I mean I can’t blame you, Papa is very handsome.”

“He was more than just being a handsome man,” you admitted. “He was kind, charming, and so full of life. It was impossible not to be drawn to him.”

Sofia leaned her chin on her hand, watching you intently. “So, what happened after that? Did you live together?”

You nodded, your expression thoughtful. “Yes. Your Papa was from Spain, and after a few months of dating, we decided to take the next step. I made the biggest decision of my life, I moved to Spain to be with him.”

“Wow,” Sofia breathed, her eyes wide with admiration. “That’s huge. You just packed up and left?”

“Pretty much,” you replied with a soft laugh. “I uprooted my life. Wherever he went, I went. It wasn’t easy leaving everything behind—your grandpapa, and my friends, but it felt so right. Home wasn’t a place anymore, it was wherever he was.”

She hesitated for a moment before asking. “And then what?”

“Three days after I moved in with him, he proposed.” Your smile widened as you remembered.

“What?!” Sofia’s jaw dropped. “Three days?!” She was shocked, and unfamiliar with Fernando’s game.

You laughed, nodding. “Three days. He said he didn’t want to wait any longer, and honestly? Neither did I. We got married not long after that, and then, we had you.”

Sofia’s expression softened, and she looked down at her hot chocolate, stirring it absentmindedly. “That’s…amazing. It sounds like a complete fairytale.”

“It felt like one,” you admitted, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. “And you were the best part of it.”

All your life, you always try to avoid talking about Fernando with your daughter. It was the most painful memory for you, but your daughter was right, you can’t avoid talking about it forever, evading or making so many excuses as to why you can’t talk about Fernando. Especially now that your daughter is already grown up, she deserves to know about her father. It will be very selfish of you if you keep on avoiding it.

“But you know, being married isn’t always what the movies make it out to be,” you said, your voice calm but tinged with a hint of sadness. “It’s not all rainbows and sunshine, no matter how much you love someone.”

“What do you mean, Mama?” She asked, tone gentle but eager to understand.

You laced your fingers together on the table, your gaze drifting for a moment, as if the memories were replaying in front of you.

“Your Papa and I, we had a wonderful start. The kind of love that people dream about. But life has a way of testing even the strongest bonds.” You paused, meeting her gaze. “Both of us had demanding careers. My career wasn’t exactly stationary, I was always flying to another country for events, galas, photoshoots, and your Papa, he was flying all over the world for races.”

“It felt like we were always moving but never in the same direction. We were always missing each other’s milestones, each other’s days. We tried to hold on, we really did.”

“What did you do?” Sofia asked softly, her voice tinged with concern.

You sighed, leaning forward slightly as you rested your elbows on the table. “We tried everything we could think of. Marriage counseling, for one. We sat in those sessions and poured our hearts out, hoping that somehow, talking through everything would bring us closer again.”

“Did it help?” Sofia asked cautiously, as if she were afraid of the answer.

“For a little while,” you admitted. “It gave us the tools to communicate better, to understand each other’s needs and frustrations. But it wasn’t enough, there was just too much distance, literal and emotional.”

Her expression softened, and she traced her finger along the rim of her cup. “That must’ve been really hard.”

“It was, and after counseling didn’t work, we tried going away on a trip. We thought that maybe if we stepped away from everything—work, schedules, the stress, it would help. A beautiful place, with just the two of us, no distractions. It was nice, but…” you shook your head slightly, a wistful smile playing on your lips. “You can’t expect a trip to fix something that’s broken.”

You sat up straighter, your tone steady despite the heaviness of the memory. “We realized we were holding onto something that wasn’t working anymore. We still cared about each other deeply, but the truth was, we weren’t as compatible as we thought we’d be, and before things got worse, we made the hardest decision we could make.”

Sofia’s eyes glimmered with understanding, though a hint of sadness lingered in her expression. “You decided to let go.”

“Yes,” you replied quietly. “We decided to put a stop to it before we hurt each other more. It was mutual, we both knew that it was the right thing to do, even if it was painful. Sometimes love isn’t enough to make a marriage work.”

“That must’ve been really hard for you,” she said softly, reaching across the table to place her hand over yours. “For both you and Papa.”

“It was,” you admitted, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “But we did what we thought was best for everyone involved, and even though things didn’t work out between us, there was one thing we always agreed on.”

Sofia tilted her head, her curiosity evident. “What’s that?”

“That you were the best thing to ever come out of our time together,” you said with a small smile. “We both loved you more than anything in the world. That never changed.”

“I’m glad that you told me, Mama,” she said after a moment, lips curved into a faint smile, and she looked down at your intertwined hands. “I’ve always wondered, and it makes sense now.”

“I’m glad you asked,” you said softly. “I know that it’s not the fairytale story that most people hope for, but it’s ours, and I’m glad that you know.”

The hours in the café passed by so fast, with the two of you lost in conversation. Occasionally, someone would approach you, their voice tinged with both awe and respect as they asked for a photo. You always obliged with a warm smile, and Sofia watched quietly, her gaze filled with mixture of admiration and curiosity. Once, a woman gushed about how lovely it was to see you out with your daughter, her compliment bringing a soft smile to Sofia’s face.

“Do you get tired of it?” She asked softly as you sat back down.

“Of what?” You replied, reaching for your drink.

“People stopping you everywhere.” She tilted her head slightly, observing you as though trying to decipher your thoughts.

“Not really. I’m grateful for their kindness. Besides,” You said, offering her a gentle smile, and gesturing between the two of you. “Moments like this are far more important to me.”

Her lips curved into a faint smile, and she dropped her gaze to the table. “I like this too.”

When the café began to empty and the staff subtly started cleaning up for the night, you leaned back in your chair, glancing at your watch and sighed contentedly.

“I think we’ve been here for long enough,” you said. “It’s already getting late, and we should probably head back.”

“What about the shopping spree?” Sofia asked, her tone hesitant.

You reached over, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. “We’ll do it tomorrow, after my fittings. I promised you, didn’t I?”

“But you’ll be tired,” she reasoned, her voice soft with concern, but firm. “I don’t want you to overdo it.”

You smiled warmly at her, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the table. “Sweetheart, I’m never too tired for you. If I was, I wouldn’t have promised. You’re my priority.”

“Okay.” She murmured, looking down on her empty cup, still sounding unsure.

“Hey,” you said, reaching across the table to gently take her hand. “It’s not a big deal. I love spending time with you, and besides, I want to spoil you.” You added with a wink.

Sofia let out a soft laugh at that, finally meeting your eyes. “Alright, but only if you’re really sure.”

“Absolutely,” you said with conviction, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

By the time you stepped outside, the sky had turned into a deep shade of navy, the city illuminated by the glow of streetlights and neon signs. The streets were alive with energy, people bustling about, and the faint hum of conversations blending with the occasional honk of a car horn.

As you walked side by side, you instinctively wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. Sofia didn’t resist, leaning into your touch as the two of you strolled through the vibrant cityscape.

“Singapore at night is something else.” She said softly, her eyes flicking from the lights above to the people around.

“It really is,” you agreed, your gaze sweeping over the bustling streets. “Years of living here with you and it is still one of my favorite things about being here, how alive everything feels, no matter the hour.”

She nodded, her expression thoughtful. “It’s beautiful.”

The two if you continued in companionable silence, your steps unhurried. You glanced at her occasionally, your heart swelling with affection at how relaxed and eased she seemed. Spotting an available taxi, you raised your hand to hail it, guiding her gently toward the curb. The car pulled up smoothly, and you opened the door for her, gesturing to her to get in first.

“In you go, darling.” you said as you put your hand over her head.

“Thank you.” She said quietly, sliding into the backseat.

You followed, settling in beside her, greeting the driver, and giving him your address. As the car began to move, you leaned back against the seat, letting out a soft sigh of contentment. Sofia, whom you believed to be Jullianna, shifted closer, resting her head lightly against your shoulder.

“You’re really not tired?” She asked after a moment, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Not at all,” you replied, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “Spending time with you will always be the best part of my day.”

Sofia didn’t say anything, but you felt her body relax against you, her hand slipping into yours. The quiet hum of the taxi and the soft glow of the city outside made the moment feel almost dreamlike, a perfect ending to a perfect day.

When the taxi pulled up to the house, the golden lights from the grand windows spilled out onto the driveway, casting a warm and welcoming glow. As you and Sofia stepped out, the heavy front doors swung open, Martin greeted you with a slight bow.

“Good evening, madame. Welcome home.” He said, voice calm and measured as always. Behind him, a few housekeepers stood ready, their smiles polite but genuine.

“Thank you, Martin,” you said, offering a smile as you removed your heels and put them on the rack, changing into your indoor slippers. “It’s good to be back.”

Sofia stood slightly behind you, still taking in the familiar grandeur of the house, standing here still felt surreal for her. The subtle hum of efficiency in the house was comforting yet intimidating.

One of the housekeepers stepped forward and spoke gently. “Madame, all of Miss Jullianna’s laundry from camp has been taken care of and put away.”

“Thank you so much,” you turned to her with a grateful expression. “I really appreciate it, I hope it wasn’t quite the task.”

The housekeeper smiled, shaking her head modestly. “Not at all, madame. We’re happy to help.”

You then turned to Sofia, who had been quietly observing, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Shweetheart, it’s getting late. Go ahead and get ready for bed, alright?”

Sofia froze momentarily, panic bubbling beneath her composed exterior. Where’s Jullianna’s room? The floor plan Jullianna had shown her briefly flashed in her mind, but the details were hazy. Upstairs, she was certain of it, the bedroom was upstairs. That much she remembered.

“Uh, okay!” Sofia said quickly, her voice an octave higher than usual. She gave you a quick kiss on the cheeks, and stepped back, addressing everyone as she spoke. “Good night!”

She turned on her heel and started towards the staircase, her movements quick and almost robotic. You watched her with a bemused smile, tilting your head slightly.

“Goodnight, darling!” You called after her, shaking your head lightly. “She must be exhausted.” You murmured to Martin, who gave a small nod in agreement.

“Understandable, madame,” Martin said smoothly. “It had been quite a long day for her.”

You chuckled softly and made your way toward the sitting room, while Sofia darted up the staircase with determination.

As Sofia reached the landing, she slowed her pace, looking back just in case Martin or a housekeeper had followed her. Her eyes darting to the left and right, the hallways stretched out in both directions, doors lining either side, each one identical to the next.

Which one is hers?

She hesitated for a moment, checking again as glancing over the bannister to ensure no one was watching. Then, she steeled herself and chose a direction at random, heading down the hall with feigned confidence.

If I just open doors discreetly, I’ll figure it out…hopefully.

She stopped in front of the first door, her hand hovering over the knob. Taking a deep breath, she slowly twisted it and peeked inside. The room was dark, but from what little she could see, it didn’t look lived-in. Definitely not Jullianna’s. Quickly closing the door, she moved to the next one, her heart racing slightly faster.

Come on, it has to be one of these.

By sheer luck, or perhaps Jullianna’s divine intervention, the next door she opened revealed a room that looked distinctly like Jullianna’s. The walls were adorned with personal touches—framed photos, art pieces, and trophies from school competitions. Sofia exhaled deeply, relief flooding through her as she stepped inside and gently closed the door behind her.

“Finally,” she whispered to herself, leaning back against the door for a moment.

Her gaze swept over the room, and a small smile tugged at her lips. This is where she lives, where she sleeps. As Sofia settled herself into Jullianna’s room, she couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer size and elegance of it.

The room felt like something out of a luxury magazine, spacious, meticulously organized, and exuding a quiet sophistication that perfectly encapsulated Jullianna’s personality. Curiosity tugged at her as she wandered over to one of the doors on the side of the room. That’s probably just the bathroom, she thought, twisting the handles. Her jaw dropped.

It was not just a bathroom, it was a walk-in closet. A massive walk-in closet. Rows upon rows of clothes hung neatly on gold-accented racks, organized by color, season, and occasion. Everything was pristine, almost as though no one ever touched anything. Beneath the racks were drawers labeled with words like scarves, belts, and hats.

“What in the world…” Sofia muttered under her breath, stepping further inside.

Her fingers trailed lightly over the fabrics, feeling the silks, cottons, and other materials she could not even identify. Sofia’s gaze moved up to the shelves where dozens of handbags sat like prized trophies, each one gleaming under the soft, warm lighting.

Then her eyes fell to the section dedicated entirely to sleepwear—rows of satin and cotton pajamas, all perfectly folded and hung. She let out a small, incredulous laugh.

“Does she even wear the same thing twice? Or is that against her personal code?” Sofia murmured to herself, raising an eyebrow as she scanned the collection. It seemed endless. “I swear, I’m gonna roast her so bad for this when we talk.”

She shook her head, smiling to herself as she made a mental note to bring this up with Jullianna during their next facetime call.

Turning around, she noticed an entire wall dedicated to shoes. There were flats, heels, boots, and sneakers—all lined up like soldiers awaiting inspection. She walked over, admiring them one by one, and picking up a pair of platform heels.

“Does she even wear all of these? Or do they just sit here looking pretty?” She muttered under her breath.

She walked further, admiring them one by one. The thought crossed her mind to try on a few pairs, but she resisted. Instead, she quietly thanked the universe that she and Jullianna wore the same size. At least I won’t trip over heels that are too big for me.

Sofia wandered back out of the closet, still amazed, and moved to the other door. This time, she was right, it was the bathroom.

“Okay, this is just ridiculous.” She whispered.

It was not just any bathroom. This was a bathroom that could rival those in five-star hotels. The marble floors gleamed under the recessed lighting, and a large soaking tub stood in the center, surrounded by candles and neatly arranged bath products. There was even a rainfall shower with walls of glass, and two vanities stocked with an array of high-end skincare products.

“Of course her bathroom is this fancy. Why wouldn’t it be for a pompous ass like her.” Sofia chuckled, the nickname from camp already sticking with her. “Who even needs two vanities? Well, she does.” She opened a few drawers, curious but cautious, noting how every little thing had its place.

After taking it all in, she made her way back to the main room and sat on the edge of the bed. Sofia’s carefree, camp-spirited self could not help but feel a little out of place in the polished and prim world Jullianna belonged. Their difference in style and personality became glaringly obvious as she thought how she was supposed to pull this off. She sighed, standing up and glancing towards the closet again.

How does she even decide on an outfit every day? Her mind wandered over the pre-coordinated outfits hanging together back in the walk-in closet, and decided to just stick to those. Better safe than sorry. If it’s already paired, I can’t mess up…right?

“I’m going to need to ask her for a cheat sheet or something.” She mumbled, making another mental note to ask Jullianna for advice on how not to mess this all up.

For now, Sofia slid into one of the satin pajama sets and climbed into the soft, king sized bed. The covers felt impossibly smooth against her skin, like they were made of clouds. As she lay there, staring at the intricate ceiling design, she couldn’t help but laugh softly to herself.

“How am I supposed to keep up with this?” She murmured to herself, chuckling. “This is going to be really interesting.”

Sofia lay in the king sized bed, staring at the ceiling, hands tucked under her head. The room was dark and still, with only the faint glow of moonlight spilling through the large, curtained windows. She tried closing her eyes tightly, but her mind refused to settle, the unfamiliar surroundings, no matter how luxurious, only made her miss home more. She was not used to this kind of quiet, not the kind that made her thoughts louder than they needed to be.

She shifted slightly under the covers, hugging now the pillow closer. Every fiber of her being longed for the comforting presence of her father, the warmth of his voice when he wished her good night, the sound of his footsteps echoing through their home in Spain. Sofia’s breath hitched slightly when she suddenly heard faint footsteps outside the door, her heart raced as the sound grew closer, she shifted back into a sleeping position, shutting her eyes as she tried to even out her breathing.

The door creaked open gently, and you stepped inside, the soft light from the hallway spilling in for a brief moment before the door clicked shut again. Your eyes adjusted quickly to the dimness of the room, and your gaze immediately fell on the figure lying under the plush covers. You smiled to yourself, letting out a quiet sigh of relief.

“Fast asleep already.” You murmured softly, more to yourself than to anyone else.

Sofia’s heart ached at your voice. It was so tender, so maternal, and for a moment, she almost felt guilty for keeping up this act. You moved closer, your footsteps barely making a sound on the carpeted floor. Reaching the side of the bed, you lowered yourself carefully onto the edge, mindful not to disturb what you thought was your sleeping daughter.

The mattress dipped slightly under your weight, and Sofia felt it, but she remained perfectly still. You looked at her peaceful form, her dark lashes resting gently against her cheeks.

“My sweet girl,” you whispered, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face. “You must’ve been so tired today, huh.”

Sofia’s chest tightened. She wanted to say something, to reach out to you, but she did not. Instead, she felt the warmth of your hand as it lingered for a moment on her hair, smoothing it gently.

“You always try to act so grown-up,” you continued softly, your voice filled with affection, “but you’ll always be my little girl, Lia. Don’t ever forget that.”

Sofia’s heart skipped at the name. It was not hers, but the tenderness in your tone made it feel like it could have been. You leaned down, pressing a light feather kiss, to her forehead, and she had to fight the sudden wave of emotion welling up inside her.

“Good night, my love.” You said softly, pulling back and standing up quietly.

You adjusted the covers slightly, ensuring she was tucked in before leaving the room. Sofia’s ears picked up every little sound, the soft rustle of fabric, faint creak of the floorboards, and finally, the gentle click of the door closing as you left the room.

Only when the silence returned did she open her eyes, staring up at the ceiling. Her fingers brushed the spot on her forehead where you had kissed her, and she swallowed hard.

“Good night.” She whispered into the darkness.

< taglist > @qghosty , @seonghwaexile , @linnygirl09

[blueblossomrose]

Pairing: Fellow Honest x Fem!Reader

Summary: Fellow sees you in Playful Land with your friends, thinks you're a rich girl by the way you act and the fact that you study at Night Raven College, and tries to get money from you, only to end up falling in love.

Notice(s): Inspired by "The Lady and the Tramp", Female reader, Reader is the MC, but Yuu(ken Enma) is also here, not nsfw but slightly spicy? We kinda have a french kiss here.

Request?: No.

Notes: I refuse to call him Ernesto, except in a specific Rapunzel-like fanfic where he is Eugene.

Comments and reblogs are very welcome ♡

He could have sworn you were a rich girl. I mean, look at the way you carried yourself! Like a true lady. Eyes wide open, paying attention to everything and everyone, with a polite and kind smile on your face. Your excitement was restrained but evident. You always sat with your legs crossed.

As if your good behavior wasn't evidence enough, you were still wearing that damn uniform. Night Raven College. An elite school.

He didn't think he needed more. He has his conclusion.

Even if you are not extremely rich, some money you must have. And he will get it from you. He and Gidel need it more than you do, anyway.

He thought about how he could do this. First he had to separate you from your friends. Leave you alone with him.

Fellow approached slowly, like a predator carefully observing its prey. He adjusted his posture, donned an unassuming smile, and gave you a slight nod. He knew he needed to be strategic, charming, but not invasive. After all, winning over someone like you required delicacy.

“Excuse me, miss,” he said, his voice as smooth as silk. “I couldn’t help but notice that you’re enjoying our park with such enthusiasm. It’s always a pleasure to see such a charming visitor here.”

You looked at him curiously, a glint of surprise and interest dancing in your eyes. He knew he had your attention.

“Oh, yes, it’s a wonderful place!” you replied, your voice polite but with a touch of excitement. “I didn’t know it would be so much fun!”

Fellow made a gesture of slight mock indignation, placing a hand on his chest.

“Are you saying you underestimated our Playful Land? Oh, that breaks my heart!” He let out a light, relaxed laugh, as if you were already friends. “But I’m glad you’re enjoying it. By the way, let me introduce myself: I’m Fellow Honest, one of the park’s managers.”

“Manager?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. He nodded, as if carrying a weight of responsibility on his shoulders.

“Of course. Not only do I help take care of the park, but I also make sure our guests have the best experience possible. And speaking of which…” He glanced around, as if searching for something. “I noticed your friends seem a little scattered. It’s a shame to leave you alone.”

You shakes your head, showing that you were comfortable on your own. “They went to explore some attractions. I preferred to stay here for a while.”

It was exactly the break Fellow needed. He gestured with his hand, as if he were putting on a great show.

“In that case, perhaps I could be your companion? I can show you the secrets of this place that no one else knows about. After all, it’s not often we have such special guests.”

You hesitated for a moment, considering the offer. There was something in his eyes, in the way he spoke, that was hard to resist. “Okay, of course! Why not?”

Fellow’s smile widened, and he offered his hand, like a gentleman ready to lead her. Inwardly, he cheered. This was the first step in the plan.

But as they walked together, something unexpected began to happen. As he talked about the park, making jokes and telling charming stories, Fellow noticed something he hadn’t expected. There was something in your laughter, in the way you responded to his words, that made his heart race. It wasn’t the kind of racing that came from getting what you wanted, but something more genuine, more dangerous.

He tried to ignore it. He tried to remind himself that this was a scam, nothing more. But with every step you took together, with every smile you gave him, he felt the plan begin to slip away from his control. Why, suddenly, couldn’t he stop looking at you?

It got to the point where the two of you finally arrived at the location Fellow had so carefully planned. It was a corner in the back of a restaurant, near one of the park’s quieter attractions, where there was little traffic. Despite its modest location, the place felt cozy. String lights hung unassumingly, illuminating the space with a soft, golden glow, creating a curiously intimate atmosphere.

Fellow pulled out one of the chairs for you, giving you a slight theatrical bow as he spoke. “Milady, allow me to offer you a seat in our 'VIP area'. Not all visitors are lucky enough to experience this!”

You laughed softly at the act, accepting the chair. Fellow seemed pleased with your answer, but there was a hint of nervousness in his smile that he quickly tried to hide. He discreetly signaled to Gidel, who was hiding behind a nearby dumpster, waiting for the right moment.

As you looked around, taking in the peculiar surroundings, Fellow quickly took the chair next from you, leaning slightly closer to you. He propped his elbow on the table, resting his chin on his hand, as if he was completely absorbed by your presence.

As soon as Gidel brought the food, you couldn't help but just eat it. You liked to eat a lot, and personally you stopped holding back.

Fellow watched in shock as you shoveled a spoonful of spaghetti with meatballs into your mouth.

You ate... a lot. He was surprised to see that graceful young lady eating an entire plate so quickly, but what surprised him even more was... how charming you still looked, even with your cheeks a little stained with sauce.

“You’ve just so cute...” Fellow complimented as you ate.

"Hmm?" you lifted your head, your cheeks puffed up with food.

He chuckled, gently poking your cheek. He was quite amused by your innocent behavior. It was an endearing quality that drove him crazy. He set down his silverware and looked over at you. A smile on his face.

“You’re even more beautiful when you eat, y’know. Like a chipmunk.”

You can't help but blush, laughing awkwardly as you swallows your food. “I-Is that so?... That's so kind of you!”

“It’s honest too.” He said, almost with a wink.

You can't help but laugh at the slightly joke.

He smiled as you laughed before going back to eating his food. Every so often, his eyes would flick up to look at you. He let out a mental sigh before deciding to get cheeky. He reached over with his foot, brushing against your ankle before slowly traveling up your leg. He was testing his luck, seeing how you’d react. Would you kick him? Move away? Let it continue?

You didn't seem to take it as flirting, so you just smiled and looked at him, thinking he wanted to say something.

He wasn’t expecting you to not notice. How dense could a person be? He almost wondered if you were actually doing this on purpose. Or maybe you just don't understand indirect flirting?

He decided to test the waters a little more. He moved a little closer to you, and when you were a little more distracted, he took the cutlery out of your hands with a smooth, light pushing motion.

"Huh?" You looked at him, with some confusion.

He simply placed a finger over his lip in a shushing gesture. He set the cutlery down before grabbing a napkin. Then, with a smile, he reached over to your cheek and wiped away a small sauce stain. "What about... we try something different? In some places, it's refined to eat without cutlery..."

"Eat without cutlery?"

He gave you a sly smile as he nodded. He took off his gloves, picking up a strand of spaghetti. "Try it. I promise it's not as barbaric as you think."

You shyly picks up the end of the spaghetti and puts it in your mouth. Fellow hums in approval at your action. He leans forward a bit more as he take the other side of the spaghetti.

Fellow’s expression was sly, his eyes slightly half-lidded as he let your faces get closer. He slowly started to close the distance, using the excuse of eating the spaghetti. His face was only inches away from yours, to the point he could feel your breath on his lips.

You didn't even move away, just standing there, your breathing becoming sporadic.

He inched closer, a smug smile on his face. He got you right where he wanted. When the distance was only centimeters apart, he licked some sauce off his lips, using it as an excuse to run his tongue right over your bottom lip.

You shivered, widening your eyes.

Fellow chuckled a little when you shivered, knowing exactly what effect he was having on you. He licked his lip again, now only a few millimeters from your own.

“You taste… even better with sauce...” He mumbled out, low.

"M-Mr. Honest..." You stuttered.

His smile grew at your breathless words.

“Hm? What is it?” He teased. His tone, the way looked at you… it was like a hawk that found its prey.

"W-Why... y-you look at me like that?..."

He chuckled to himself. He moved one hand up to your cheek and cupped it gently, his thumb running over your cheek.

“Can’t you tell, darling?” He purred out. "You look like a bunny right now, you know?... and... I guess you know what foxes do with bunnies."

...

"Where the f*ck is MC?" Ace questions Yuuken as the two are heading towards the cotton candy stand to find Floyd, Jade, and Lilia.

"Now that you mention it, I haven't seen her since the prize booth..." Yuu says thoughtfully, and soon becoming desperate. "OH MY STARS! We have to find her!" Yuu was about to run away, but then he turned back and grabbed Ace to go with him.

[creatingblackcharacters]

hi there; first, thank you for making this blog and all the lessons you do, i really appreciate them as a Black person because it highlights a lot of struggles i face with fandoms in general, and why i dont interact more in certain spaces. it makes me feel seen

with regards to your questions, i'd also like answers to them from nonblack fans, especially nonblack anime fans. i don't even mean consuming anime with overtly racist caricatures of black characters (because numerous anime fans pirate their anime and never send a cent to the creators anyway), i mean how can they make fanworks of it?

how can they look at something that they are told is wildly offensive, but then defend with "well, this is how it looks in canon"? where is the line drawn between what's okay and what isn't? as long as it's slow and gradual, is there no line at all?

these are probably just rehashings of your own followup questions, so please excuse that, but i do have an anecdote

i joined a casual anime server the other day and a lot of folks were lamenting one Black character's racist design and how often those on social media will replicate it without thinking/caring. The thing that struck me is that, I've checked this character's tumblr tag regularly for a long time. There are always people who will post art/fanworks of this character with his racist design. Yet hardly ever, if ever, (outside of Black fans) have I seen any of these folks- the ones in the discord server- try to talk to artists/writers/fan creators/etc via asks/replies/etc. There's a notable amount of people in that server and a notable amount that agreed the design was outright racist and that they'll never make fanworks like that, and yet still silence

i'm not entirely sure what would be the line, or the "okay, that's enough" moment to spur any of these folks into action. i'm not sure if there is one. the only reason i don't make my own "hey what is wrong with all of you" post and blow up is because I've made a wonderful little friend group in this fandom who get it, and I don't want them to get caught up in whatever happens if I were to make a post like that

And this is just for getting people to stop using the canon design of the character, i.e., to stop drawing him as a racist caricature. This isn't touching on the people who 1) lighten his skintone [he's been horribly whitewashed over time, which has been reflected in some fanarts and fan merch], or 2) give him a looser hair/straight hair texture, rather than his type 4 hair (there's also #3, which is fanfiction with straight up slurs, and horribly racist writing in it that my friend heavily warned me not to read, but that was more of a one-off case and I've had the creator blocked a long time now).

my point being, we (Black fans) can't even get folks to stop with the caricatures, which we have to start with, and then there's even more of an annoying uphill battle with the other stuff. I'm just so tired of all of this; it makes me want delete my own works and turn away from fandom all together because i can't stand it.

trying for polite and assuming ignorance hardly ever works, speaking bluntly doesnt work at all, making public posts hardly goes anywhere (partly because of how rarely people reblog things anymore, partly because it makes people 'uncomfortable' to share this information with others). Black fans so obviously need help to combat this, and yet it's like sitting at a tea party and hearing all these pretty words in this one setting, yet nobody does anything different/better when the party's over/outside this setting.

sorry for dooming a bit, but like, genuinely i would like to know where the line is for nonblack folks? what is the point/are the points where you would speak up against antiblack racism? have you ever considered speaking up? if there's ever a moment you recognized antiblack racism and didn't say anything, why didn't you? did you consider how your lack of speaking up might affect your fellow Black fans? or how Black fans may be interpret this as silent agreement with the racists/with the racist 'norm'?

..those could maybe be alternative ways of asking your last followup question?

(if i've made any blunders or overstepped here, please let me know!)

No, I'm glad you spoke up! I too would like to see answers!

[cheynovak]

Furry Hero

Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N Female character     

Summary: A beautiful request from @deanwinchestersgirl8734

That was passed on by @jackles010378 ( Thank you for thinking of me ❤️ )

"Hey I was wondering if you ever thought of writing a dean or Jensen or Sam or Jared story about them meeting someone they like who has a service dog I follow someone online who has a seizure dog and I've never seen anyone write about that"

I hope you like it, it was new for me to write a story like this. So I might made a mistake or two about service dogs but I wanted to shine a light on these everyday heroes as well.

Warnings: None

English is not my first language 

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

The musty smell of old books and the faint hum of fluorescent lights created an almost reverent silence in the small-town library. Sam Winchester pushed open the heavy door with a grin, his brother Daan trailing close behind, looking less than enthusiastic.

"Why do you always pick libraries?" Dean grumbled as they walked in. "What’s wrong with a good ol’ diner? Coffee, pie, real conversations?"

"Because libraries have records," Sam shot back, his long stride quickly overtaking Dean. "And the last thing this case needs is for you to flirt your way into trouble again."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'm just saying, a little charm goes a long—" He stopped mid-sentence, his attention snapping to a figure seated at a nearby table.

A woman sat with a dog at her feet, flipping through a thick tome with practiced ease. Dean barely registered the woman's features because the dog—a fluffy, caramel-colored Golden Retriever—caught his attention first. Without thinking, Dean dropped into a crouch, extending his hand.

"Who's a good boy?" Dean cooed, the smile on his face rivaling the brightness of the overhead lights.

The dog's ears perked, its intelligent eyes locking onto Dean's hand before the woman—Y/N—cleared her throat. "Um, excuse me." Her tone was polite but firm, tinged with amusement. "He's a service dog. Please don’t pet him while he’s working."

Sam stifled a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Dean, seriously?"

Dean froze, his hand midway to the dog's head, looking sheepish. "Right. Sorry. Service dog. Got it." He straightened up, brushing off invisible dirt from his jeans. "Guess I got a little excited. It's just… he's so fluffy."

Y/N chuckled softly, her eyes flicking between the brothers. "It happens more than you'd think. Most people can’t resist Buddy here."

Sam stepped in, his expression a mix of apology and curiosity. "Sorry about my brother. He's got no impulse control. I'm Sam, and this is Dean."

"Y/N," she replied with a small smile. "So, what brings you guys to this dusty corner of the world?"

Dean and Sam exchanged a quick glance, the unspoken language of years of hunting passing between them. Dean took the lead, his charm dialed back to a respectable level. "We’re looking into some… stuff going on in town. About the missing people, you wouldn’t happen to know anything, would you?"

Y/N frowned, her hand pausing on the page she’d been reading. "I haven’t seen anything myself, but…" She glanced down at Buddy, her expression thoughtful. "A couple of nights ago, Buddy started acting weird while we were walking past that old blue house on Sycamore Street. You know, the one where the girl went missing last week?"

Sam nodded, pulling a small notebook from his jacket. "What do you mean by weird? "

"Growling," Y/N confirmed. "And he wouldn’t go near the property. Buddy’s trained to stay calm, so it really freaked me out. I crossed the street, and even then, he kept his eyes locked on that house until we were out of sight."

Dean leaned against the table, his interest piqued. "Did you notice anything else? Lights on? Strange smells? Anything at all?"

Y/N shook her head. "No, but the air felt… off. Like, ice cold." She hesitated. Dean looked at Sam who just nodded but turned back to Y/N.

"If you’re okay with would you mind letting us know if Buddy picks up on anything else? Dogs are a lot more sensitive to things than people are."

Y/N glanced down at Buddy, who let out a soft huff as if in agreement. "Sure. I was planning to walk by there later today anyway. I can let you know if anything seems off."

"Perfect," Dean said, his grin returning. "In the meantime, you got any more tips for not offending a service dog?"

Y/N laughed, a genuine sound that made Dean's grin widen. "Just don’t call him fluffy again."

Sam started to walk back, Dean gave her his 'FBI' card. "Maybe you eh, could learn me a thing or two in a private talk?" Y/N smiled why don't you walk with us tonight?"

Later That day

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, painting the quiet park in shades of amber and gold. Y/N stood near the entrance, Buddy’s leash wrapped loosely around her hand as she scanned the area. Her heart fluttered slightly when she spotted Dean strolling toward her, his leather jacket slung casually over his shoulder and his trademark grin firmly in place.

"Hey," Dean greeted, his voice warm as he stopped a few feet away. His gaze dropped to Buddy, who stood alert at Y/N’s side. "Still working, huh? Guess I’ll keep my hands to myself this time."

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "Probably for the best. But he’s off-duty once we start walking in the park. That’s his rule, not mine."

Dean crouched, giving Buddy a respectful nod. "You hear that, pal? I’m in your territory now."

Buddy wagged his tail slightly, his usual stern demeanor relaxing just a bit, and Y/N chuckled again. "I think he’s starting to like you. That’s impressive—he doesn’t warm up to most people."

Dean straightened, his grin turning just a touch smug. "Well, I do have a way with animals... And women."

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her face. "So, what’s the plan? You asked me out to make up for the dog thing, and here we are. A romantic walk in the park?"

Dean tilted his head, pretending to think. "That’s part of it. The other part’s getting to know you better." Touched by the sincerity in his voice, Y/N nodded, feeling her nerves ease.

The two of them fell into an easy rhythm as they walked along the park’s winding paths, Buddy trotting happily ahead. They talked about everything and nothing: Y/N’s job, Buddy’s quirks, Dean’s favorite pie recipes, and even a few funny stories.

Dean never opened up so easily, but Y/N felt safe. He even felt guilty not telling her his real job.

Eventually, they reached a secluded clearing by a small lake. Buddy, now fully off-duty, sniffed around the grass nearby, keeping a watchful eye on Y/N as always.

Dean stuffed his hands into his pockets, his expression softening as he looked at her. "You know, I gotta admit... I wasn’t just making up for petting your dog when I asked you out."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. "Oh? What was it, then?"

Dean hesitated for half a second, his usual bravado faltering. "I don’t know. There’s something about you. You’re tough, smart, funny..."

Y/N laughed, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Well, you’re not so bad yourself. Even if you don’t always follow the no-petting rule."

Without knowing Y/N and Dean walked up to the old blue house on the corner. The house loomed in the dark, its broken shutters creaking in the cold wind.

"Buddy’s already on edge," Y/N whispered, gripping the dog’s harness. The Retriever growled low in his throat, his fur standing on end.

"Looks like we’re in the right place," he murmured, his hand instinctively hovering over the pistol tucked in the back of his jeans. He gently pulled Y/N behind him, his expression serious. "Let me call Sam. Might as well take a look."

Y/N tilted her head, her brows furrowing. "Take a look? At this time? What are you looking for exactly?"

Dean didn’t answer right away, pulling out his phone and texting Sam with quick precision. A low growl from Buddy at her side sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine, his ears flat against his head as he stared intently at the house.

Minutes later, headlights illuminated the driveway as the Impala’s familiar sleek silhouette rolled up. Sam hopped out, his tall frame cutting an imposing figure against the twilight.

"Dean, you sure about this?" Sam asked, walking around to the trunk of the Impala.

Dean opened it with a practiced motion, and Y/N’s jaw dropped. Inside was an arsenal of weapons: guns, knives, vials of strange liquids, and boxes of ammo. Dean grabbed his shotgun, quickly loading it with salt rounds. "Oh yeah, Sammy. This place is humming."

"What the hell is this?" Y/N blurted, gesturing to the weapons.

Dean glanced at her, his face unreadable. "Insurance."

"Insurance?" she echoed, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Sam stepped closer, his voice calm but firm. "Y/N, this is what we do. What you saw or better what Buddy felt was a ghost, somehow every year children disappear, this is how we deal with things like that. But it’s dangerous. You need to stay back."

Dean nodded in agreement, his green eyes serious as he looked at her. "Let us handle this. Buddy too. Keep him close."

The brothers headed toward the house, their weapons drawn. But as they approached the door, Buddy let out a sharp bark and yanked his leash free from Y/N’s hand.

"Buddy!" Y/N shouted, sprinting after him as the dog bounded up the steps and slipped through the open door.

"Dammit!" Dean cursed, rushing after her. "Y/N, no!"

She didn’t hesitate, running after Buddy into the house. The second she crossed the threshold, the heavy wooden door slammed shut behind her with an echoing bang.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, trying to open the locked door.

Dean spun around, his grip tightening on his shotgun. "Y/N, you were supposed to stay outside!"

Y/N ignored him, her eyes scanning the dark, decaying interior. "I wasn’t about to leave Buddy in here! Where is he?"

A deep growl echoed through the house, sending a chill down everyone’s spines. The air grew colder, and the faint smell of rotting wood and sulfur filled Y/N’s nostrils. Buddy barked from somewhere deeper in the house, his sharp warning cutting through the oppressive silence.

"Stay close," Dean ordered, positioning himself between Y/N and the direction of the sound. "Sam, get her ass out of here!"

"I’m trying!" Sam called back, his voice muffled. "The door’s not budging."

Dean fired the first shot, the salt round scattering the shadow momentarily. "Well, this isn’t gonna be easy," he muttered. "You think?" Sam retorted.

Dean muttered a curse under his breath. He handed Y/N a flashlight from his jacket pocket. "Hold this. If you see anything—anything weird—don’t scream. Just tell me where it is."

Y/N nodded, clutching the flashlight with trembling hands as they moved further into the house. Dean led the way, his shotgun raised, while Buddy’s distant barks drew them closer to the heart of the building.

"Dean," Y/N whispered, her voice trembling. "What is that smell?"

Dean’s jaw clenched. "Something bad. Stay close."

As they rounded a corner, they found Buddy standing in front of a doorway, his teeth bared and his growls low and menacing. Dean raised his shotgun as a shadowy figure flickered into view inside the room.

Dean kicked the door open seeing the bodies piled up. Y/N gasped. "Oh my!"

"Bingo Dean whispered under his breath, he started to salt and burn the corpses."Sam! Get her out of here," Dean said sharply, his voice low. "Now."

Y/N grabbed Buddy’s collar, her fear mounting. "What about you?"

"I’ll handle it," Dean said, his gaze locked on the figure as he loaded another shell. "Just go!"

Sam did everything to get Y/N out of the house while Dean started to burn the old remains he found in

Hours later: very very early morning

The warm glow of the diner’s neon sign spilled across the parking lot as Y/N slid into the booth opposite Dean and Sam. Buddy lay obediently at her feet, his golden coat reflecting the light from the hanging lamp above them.

The Winchester brothers had earned more than a few curious looks from the other patrons with their slightly singed jackets and dark circles under their eyes, but they didn't seem to notice—or care.

"Best fries in town," Dean said, sliding a menu across the table to Y/N. "Although, if you’re like me, you’re here for the pie."

Y/N chuckled, scanning the menu. "You were right; I am starving after all that. So… is this what you guys do? Travel around, fight ghosts, and eat questionable diner food?"

"Pretty much," Sam replied with a small smile, leaning back in the booth. "Although Dean’s dietary choices aren’t exactly… standard."

Dean mock-gasped. "Excuse me, my food choices are a finely tuned science. Protein and sugar keep me going during hunts." He paused, his grin softening. "But yeah, hunting—it’s what we do. Saved your life tonight, didn’t it?"

Y/N glanced down at Buddy, her hand instinctively reaching to scratch behind his ears. "It did. And Buddy here… He’s smarter than I gave him credit for." She looked up at them, her expression warm. "Honestly, I can’t thank you guys enough. If it weren’t for you, I don’t even want to think about what might’ve happened."

Dean waved a hand, brushing off the gratitude. "Hey, it’s all in a day’s work. Besides, Buddy deserves most of the credit. Guy’s got instincts."

"He really does," Y/N agreed, her voice tinged with awe. "I thought he was just being stubborn that night, refusing to cross the street, but now I’m realizing… he probably saved me." Her smile faltered slightly as she looked between the two brothers. "I can’t imagine how you do this all the time. Doesn’t it get… exhausting? Scary?"

Sam and Dean exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between them. Sam was the one who answered. "It’s not easy. But someone has to do it. Most people wouldn’t even believe half the things we’ve seen. So, yeah, it’s scary sometimes, but… it’s worth it."

Dean leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "And hey, it’s not all bad. We’ve got stories for days. Like that time a possessed mannequin tried to stab me. Or when Sam got body-snatched by a teenage girl." He grinned mischievously as Sam groaned in protest.

Y/N laughed, the sound light and genuine, cutting through the heaviness of the earlier hunt. "You guys really are something else."

As the evening wore on, the conversation shifted from ghost stories to lighter topics. Y/N told them about Buddy’s training and how she’d adopted him after he flunked out of guide dog school for being "too easily distracted." Dean snorted at that, muttering, "Sounds like we’ve got something in common, pal," earning a bark of approval from Buddy.

When the check finally arrived, Y/N reached for it, but Dean slid it away with a wink. "Hunter’s treat."

"Thanks," Y/N said softly, her eyes lingering on the brothers. "This has been… really nice. Weird, but nice."

As they stepped outside into the cool night air, Y/N dug a small notepad from her bag, scribbling her number and handing it to Dean. "If you guys are ever back in town, give me a call. It was really nice meeting you both."

"Likewise," Sam said, his smile sincere.

Dean, however, seemed unusually quiet. He watched as Y/N clipped Buddy’s leash back on and headed toward her car. His gaze lingered as she opened the door, Buddy hopping inside.

Sam smirked, his arms crossed. "So… I’m starting to guess it wasn’t the dog that had your attention this time."

Dean snapped out of his daze, turning to his brother with an indignant look. "Huh? What’re you talking about?"

Sam raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. "Oh, come on. You were practically drooling."

Dean scoffed, but the faintest hint of a blush crept up his neck. "I was not. I was just… impressed, that’s all. She’s smart. And brave. And… whatever, shut up."

"Uh-huh," Sam said, his grin widening. "Impressed. Sure."

Dean jumped up, rushing out the door "Y/N! Wait up!". She stopped reversing her car. "What's wrong?" Dean leaned on her now open window. Dean seemingly nervous. "I figured maybe we could start over. No ghosts. No hunts. Just… us."

"I’d like that," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dean’s smile widened, but it faded slightly as he glanced down at her lips, his expression turning serious. "Can I kiss you? Or is that off-limits too?"

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. "You’re in the clear this time."

Dean didn’t need any more encouragement. He leaned in, his hand brushing lightly against her cheek as their lips met. The kiss was warm and gentle, filled with a tenderness Y/N hadn’t expected but welcomed all the same.

"Call me?" he asked like a shy little schoolboy. Y/N Smirked only if you promise our date walks won't end in horror movies anymore?"

“Deal!” and with that he leaned back for another breathtaking kiss. Much to Buddy's disapproval

WOOF

--

Taglist -> Click here to add

@jackles010378 @libby99hb @winchesterwild78

@suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @deans-baby-momma

@ancles @tulipsvanilla @thesilmarillionblog

@jays-bonnie-on-the-side @kr804573 @kamisobsessed

@hobby27 @globetrotter28 @kindollss

@muhahaha303 @shadysoulangel @lyarr24

@spxideyver @impala67rollingthroughtown

@panickedbitch @deansimpalababy

@livya99 @yvonneeeee @ladykitana90 @stoneyggirl2 @roseblue373

@imsiriuslyreal

[spot-the-antisemitism]

Which celebrities, dead or alive, aren't antisemitic? Because it seems no matter who, everyone has not-at-all normal opinions about the Jews

Most historic Jews like Emma Lazarus

but even someone like Mark Twain who descibed himself as the gentile Shalom Alechiem

Jack Black, Stephen Fry, Noah Schapp, Gal Gadot, Rick Riordan and even Taylor Swift every other on the "Zionist author list", many of the celebrities in the blackout 2024

Also like half my family who are fascinated by the whole Judaism thing.

This is the racism of low expectations where you just expect antisemitism as a baseline fact of life. You are doing antisemitism apologism by claiming gentiles are incapable of not being antisemitic.

DO NOT CONCEDE TO GETTING SCRAPS FROM THE TABLE, DEMAND GOYIM TO TREAT YOU WITH EQUALITY AND RESPECT

followers reblog and name a celebrity or person in your life aka boss coworker, manager, teacher or proferssor or family member who is normal about Jews

[thisismeracing]

hi bby can u make a mick imagine w him dating a laos/thai girl like u did for korean one 🫶🫶

I just never see my culture and background on here I would appreciate

Hi, love! <3 I went predominantly with Laotian girl for this one, hope you don't mind. <3 I hope you like it! Let me know if you do

MICK DATING A LAO GIRL | MS47

Warnings: mentions of food; tooth-rotting fluff; mentions of family members; not proofread.

A/n: Just a quick reminder that there are many shades, experiences, and backgrounds when it comes to Laos and their culture, what I am writing does not resume everything, but rather brings a piece of it to the table. <3

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’tforget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

Mick loves adventures, and his eyes will glow the second you start telling him about all the hiking spots;

He loves to hear you explain your country's history, so it's not uncommon for him to randomly lie down with his head on your lap and ask you about marriage, economy, politics, and so on works there, all while you scratch his head and play with his hair;

Will suggest nonstop you guys take a hot air balloon ride in Van Vieng;

Before you meet your family you spend two days on Don Det Island and you can imagine Mick's reaction when you explain that bicycles were the only transport there - of course, he rented you guys one, and agreed to go back next year because the sunset there was unmatched;

You'll celebrate New Year's Eve with his family in Switzerland, and he'll celebrate the Water Festival in April with you and your family in your Lao home;

Mick is a curious guy and learning to play the guitar, so he'll definitely get interested in the khong vong going as far as asking a family member of yours to teach him;

He loves the way the Lao people use vegetables, herbs, and spices i the cuisine, and you guys will have tons of cooking dates. It's very relaxing and you get to remember your childhood and heritage;

Since Mick is not vegan or has allergies, his golden rule is: try first, ask second. That's how he ends up eating grasshoppers one day - he actually liked it, and then of course his athlete side-kicked in and you started talking about how a few insects had more proteins than chickens or cows and how this influenced climate change;

Conversations with Mick were always free of judgment. You could go from politics to the next Disney movie you wanted to watch;

He will post about Lao and will suggest you guys backpack around the continent once you're on vacation (he got curious about Thailand after you told a few curiosities about the country);

Loved to meet your family, and the elders absolutely adored him as well - he's a sweetheart after all;

Pretty much becomes a Lao honorary citizen as well;

Will suggest you guys vacation there whenever possible because according to him there's always something new to learn;

Pretty much in love with you and everything you are that includes, of course, your country and history.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: I hope you guys liked it! Let me know your thoughts, it means a lot to me <3 *mwah*

If you liked this piece and want early access to new ones and exclusive access to others, subscribe to my patreon!💘  ▸ check my main masterlist | patreon guide and my taglist.

©thisismeracing ― do not copy, steal, or translate my work; do not repost on a different media platform.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 22: This Misery We've Made

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: Tommy's personal life is starting to cause issues in his ability to rise up in political spaces, forcing him to make a choice that has the potential to fracture his relationship with the woman he loves.

Word Count: 3,519

Notes: As with all of my fics, you don't necessarily need to have read the previous parts in order to read this one. All you need to know is that Tommy and Lucy have been in an established relationship since prior to the events of season 1, and were in a polyamorous relationship with Grace prior to her death during season 3. Tommy and Lizzie had Ruby as a result of a threesome between him, Lucy, and Lizzie. This takes place between seasons 4 and 5. Please heed the warnings the can be found in the notes of each individual chapter.

This one is pretty angsty, so be prepared for that. And, as with the previous fic, I would like to warn everyone that this series is not friendly towards the Lizzie x Tommy pairing, and Lizzie herself is not always depicted favorably. If you aren't okay with that, I suggest that you stop reading this series now.

Previous Part • Series • Next Part

Chapter 1: Too Late

Chapter 2: Say We'll Be Okay (COMING SOON)

Chapter 3: The Bells (COMING SOON)

Chapter 4: Are You Still Mine (COMING SOON)

Chapter 5: Promises (COMING SOON)

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[annoyinganarchopunk]

im so confused i cant tell if this reblog was meant with hatred or agreement

tumblr.. please tell me you understand that i wasnt saying punk isnt music based.. also no hate to u homie im sure ur epic

anyways elaboration on the original post, i was talking about some people ive seen that will try to discard all of punk's politics then replace it solely with music

if the reblog was meant with hate, then to answer the final tag, i know about punk historylol, i got into the history of punk and a bunch of its subcultures before even listening to the music because i fixated the biggest fixation i could on it for like a few weeks and learnt too much. i love wikipedia! my favourite community resource.

anyways i love learning about punk history and the subculture as a whole its so awesome.

"punk isnt political! punk is mainly music based!"

ok how about i go and drink approximately 217.23L of wall paint. how about that.

[deadtower]

SO YOU WANT TO GET HIRED IS NOW LIVE ON ITCHIO! :D

This thirty-page guide is specifically written to help you navigate the world of working-class jobs. In it, I break down what to put in your resume (even if you have no experience at all!), how to dress for the interview, how to play the very confusing and nonsensical world of the working-class interview, and what happens after you drag yourself out of the crucible of the interview on your hands and knees.

It's helpful! It's for those of us who want to know how to get hired for something as menial as a food runner! It's not that long, so you don't need to carve out several hours to in-depth research! It's got jokes — and Brian David Gilbert references!

Please reblog to help reach as many people as possible, because sometimes we all need a little help adulting, and I'm here to share what I know with you, no judgment.

(If you want to make sure I am not forced to be victim to website fees, you can always just send me $3 on Ca$h@pp/V3nm0 (deadtower) or P@yp@l (paypal.me/deadtower) and email me at februaryfirstpublishing@gmail.com with your username/when you sent the money, and I can send you the PDF that way! Also, if you can't afford it, no worries! Just shoot me an email and I'll send it to you discounted to as low as $1, or for free, depending on your financial situation. I want everyone to have access to the resources they deserve. <3)

[tiredyke]

every time queer discourse surges on this site everyone is so quick to jump to “it was actually the evil lesbians who divided us” because y’all heard the term “political lesbian” and never bothered to figure out what that meant

[castielsprostate]

it's been one nasty gay sex year since the queen dropped dead!! reblog for charles to slut drop into the grave!!

[ottos-car-shop]

10 people I'd like to get to know better tag game! tagged by @gnomewithalaptop thanks for teaching me how to use the internet

last song: Conceited by SZA

favorite color: forest green knows what she's doing

last book: Memory Called Empire by Arkady Martine because who doesn't love lesbian space political intrigue

last movie: The Dressmaker - shenanigans all over my heart

last tv show: The Diplomat

sweet/savory/spicy: yes please

relationship status: sending thirst traps to my friends and giggling at tinder - so unavailable and attention seeking?

last thing I searched: ps5 deals lol

current obsession: latch hook rugs

looking forward to: these cute ass christmas markets

bonus topics

favorite drink: milkshake

song playing on a loop in your head: Lipstick Lover - Janelle Monae

current favorite character: Cissie King-Jones

fun activity you would like to get into: finally reblogging things on tumblr

last video game: Dragon Age: Inquisition

last comic/graphic novel: Young Justice (1998) for delightful homework

10 people I'd like to get to know better tag game! tagged by @luvo27 thanks for the tag bestie <3

last song: don't tell me what to do by joan jett

favorite color: yellow 🌻🌻 she's just got a lil something something, you know?

last book: pride and prejudice and zombies - I don't know if I'm gonna finish it though :/

last movie: the people's joker!! obsessed with her...

last tv show: arcane 😌 love me some fucked up lil lesbians

sweet/savory/spicy: if you're really ambitious you can do all three at the same time (spicy-sweet-salty stir fry my beloved...)

relationship status: uhhhh I'm in the talking/going on dates stage with a girl? actual status is up in the air tho so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

last thing I searched: ...яндекс переводчик. look google translate is so bad at its job okay, a girl has needs

current obsession: manifesting that my current obsession will be finishing my work on time, but currently speaking that's still a lie, so I'll just say DC

looking forward to: my mom might come visit me in march and I think that'll be fun! I'm gonna take her to the history museum <3

bonus topics

favorite drink: there's a cafe near my campus that does lavender raf coffee for two bucks... I know that makes me sound so pretentious, but when I tell you every day I lust after her...

song playing on a loop in your head: uhm. Science Genius Girl (hi-phive Mix) by Freezepop. She's just so tim drake one-year-later coded ✨ (<< lying)

current favorite character: lads you know it's still cassandra cain

fun activity you would like to get into: I wanna get back into kickboxing again!

last video game: legitimately I do think it was Sims 4 from back when EA put the base game up for free three years ago and I got so mad about how it didn't display properly on my laptop screen that I fully gave up and uninstalled the app after fifteen minutes 💀

last comic/graphic novel: Absolute Superman! loving the lois/clark enemies dynamic so far

No-pressure tagging ten people: @vaguelydefinedshapes @ottos-car-shop @toothpastecanyon @astralcurses @comphetkoncass @magicalcreeks @ladybirdbeewrites @franollie @delicious-trash-tree @the-real-couchrat

[whetstonefires]

Do you have any opinions on Scholomance?

I do! I like it a lot. I really enjoyed all three books, blitzed through them easily and was much more excited to see how the plots unfolded than I'm used to these days, as a jaded adult, and I also really appreciated them as works of craft.

Especially the first one, I spent the whole time being all 'wow!' at how simple it was. So easy to read, but no waste. You really need to know what you're doing, to get that kind of pared-down elegance of form to work and still fit so much content in.

Like these are dense, there's a fantastic stylistic minimalism that allows El's character all the space it needs to breathe by making absolutely every other thing and person in the whole novel also do character work for her, which is exactly where the first person voice shines.

Also great use of character perspective to make the pacing feel really natural, so the fact that the first book takes three weeks, the second book takes one year, and the third book is like. Five or so incredibly stressful days spread out over the course of a few weeks? Doesn't feel imbalanced.

I actually got distracted from the story a few times by noticing the strength of Novik's technique. 😂 This is a me problem, in itself it's the opposite of distracting. Very low-profile.

I think the Scholomance is a great example of how far you can go in specfic when you aren't cringing from the label 'derivative,' because the Scholomance books feel very fresh ad clean specifically because nothing in them is concerned with standing out as 'original,' whatever that's supposed to mean, only with being well-executed and suitable to its task.

Hm, maybe that's where Liesel was born, the intersection of the efficient narrative style and the vast proportion of the story that concerns the maximization of utility and the instrumentalization of persons by themselves and others, and the forces that incentivize these behaviors. Or maybe she's just the narrative counterweight to Orion 'Head Empty' Lake lmao. How's that for a principle of balance, Galadriel?

I really did enjoy how beautifully it was laid out, over and over, in dozens of shades of humanity, how no matter where you go in an exploitative system almost everyone is being driven by the same survival instincts.

Because I don't think I've ever seen made so cleanly clear why you just can't expect any person or small group of people, no matter their level of goodwill or status, to unmake one of these systems from the inside; how it's not a matter of people being bad but of every single person being very...small.

And then not retreating into the idea of a person who is Big coming and breaking the cruel system from the outside as some kind of panacea, because 1) that is terrible, even if it's necessary and done in the best way possible and 2) that's not a sustainable answer to anything. Getting a balance between the protagonist being able to effect change and not subscribing to the great man theory of history can be really tricky!

Also did I mention, I love El, and I love most of the cast, even the dreadful ones. How am I going around with this many feelings about Li Shanfeng who doesn't appear until the actual climax?

The romance murdered me a bit, but it took up no more space than it absolutely needed to do its job, and I respect that. Also I appreciated Orion as a love interest; Novik has a slight record at this point of a version of that style of male love interest who's like a caricature of Mr. Darcy but old, which was shaping up to be my least favorite thing about her body of work.

...Orion is kind of like if you took the human king from Spinning Silver and gave him an alignment flip come to think of it, so he's not coming out of nowhere. Lmao.

Which reminds me (re: romance character typing) I've heard Novik didn't want it to be known she was astolat, which this series has renewed my sympathies if so. Because if I were a published novelist I wouldn't want people going 'you know, that resolution was really emotionally satisfying! reminds me of that fic she wrote where optimus prime and megatron get stuck in a hole underground and hatefuck about it.'

I don't even like Transformers. That fic almost made me cry. Actually I suspect it reads better if you don't like Transformers because I'm sure it does not give a shit about canon.

Anyway, whoever pointed out that one of the things El has going on is she's Enoby (and we're going to sit down and explore what the true reason to put your middle finger up at preps is, and what are some constructive ways to channel that socioeconomic wrath, and what it means that there is no ethical consumption under capitalism) was right and I'm not entirely over that either.

Fucking love El's mom as a character. Spectacular level of parent relevance and usefulness. A+.

Aadhya and Liu are also characters who fucking delivered.

Re: minimalism though, I laughed at the start of The Golden Enclaves when I realized that none of the enclaver characters who'd gotten development in the the first two books were from London, the enclave El was theoretically shooting for when we met her.

[the-way-astray]

alright everybody can we please stop tagging me/talking about me in the notes of pro keefe/sokeefe posts. i know strieefe has made it so that it's really funny to talk about how much i love him and how much i'm in denial when i say negative things about him under those posts (and that's all in good fun and not the problem), but we have to think about the fact that the ops are just trying to make a positive post and probably don't want a keefe hater in their notes /srs

[tinystepsforward]

ngl it makes me want to die a little bit that it's so often trans people who feel that sex is mutable but oppression is always-forever based on asab in ways that allow them to demand that information from other trans people. like it feels fucking bad. it feels bad when it's people holding up someone who posts a lot of selfies as transition goals to a degree they have to clarify what they have or haven't done or what "direction" they're going in, it feels worse when people are out there like "caster semenya is not tma" or whatever the fuck. i am, as always, not a trans woman, but here's a sentiment echoed by many of the trans women around me who log the fuck off, quoted directly from one: "people who draw a clear line where they say that semenya or khelif are tme and then call me tma are just calling me male at this point".

like i get it. i really do. we seek community and shared experiences, and we feel betrayed when people have less in common with us than we thought they did. [*more on this later.] but that's not those people's faults and my god in the case i'm seeing play out on twitter rn this poor person did absolutely nothing to intentionally mislead people, just posted pictures of their actual kid self. who looks a lot like i did, because shockingly enough "we can always tell" doesn't fucking work for trans people either!

on the one hand i move in intersex circles which are unapologetically welcoming in cis "dyadic" people with pcos, because it serves nobody to draw a clear line where mutilation or genetics or some ineffable childhood suffering are what make somebody intersex, especially when most of us (esp in places like nz) have never been karyotyped and are being treated for symptoms without a pinned-down cause anyway. the more of us there are the stronger we are, the more pressure we can exert on a medical profession which doesn't like to consider how common outliers are, how uneasy sex is at all. and then on the other hand there's dyadic trans people on the internet who've yelled me out of spaces because a couple of traumatised incarcerated trans women i worked with as a prison abolitionist assumed i was also a trans woman and i didn't immediately tell them my entire csa-involved history of being sexed in varying ways as an infant and child and/or exactly how big my phallus was at birth or where in my junk config my urethra lives so they could decide i was tme or whatever.

returning to the * for a related but not identical thought: i think presuming shared experiences leads to some fucked shit in general! "oh we all had a radfem phase" or "oh we all were channers" no we fucking weren't and it's particularly obnoxious when me & mine are trying to build trans community locally to organise and resist the growing wave of far-right backlash against our existence, and there's just white people in there on a spectrum from "straight up being antisemitic and trying to get the n-word pass" through "handwringing about how they need to make space for people who aren't politically correct" to "handwringing about how brown people are right to be mad at them but doing shit fuckall". and then the other fucking brown people in the space are on some identity politics shit where they're like "trans joy inherently excludes those of us who could get deported" or "big city white queers are killing us by being visible instead of going stealth bc it stirs up the discourse" or whatever the fuck i've heard pulled out this year. there's a bunch of reasons i primarily organise outside of trans spaces and that's one of them. i've never felt more alone in spaces where people claim we're all the same than being left as the brownest moderator or organiser in a space full of people to whom "this is a safe trans space" apparently means they get to abdicate all other responsibilities not to lapse into presumed shared patterns that are fucking racist or otherwise alienating. i've never felt more alone than surrounded by exclusively trans people who sort people into boxes and assume everyone in those boxes has the transition goals they have. like i was on cypro until it disagreed with me to the point of endocrine crisis and now i'm on t and at both those points people were so fucking presumptive or entitled to my reasons or journey or personal relationship w my body

literally just submitted on (and was invited to consult on) the nz law commission's review of the human rights act and like. it's straight up fucked how many nz trans people fully do not comprehend that any "sex assigned at birth" type definitions fundamentally exclude migrants who have no way of proving it and many intersex people who happen to have been reassigned later or many times or never assigned at all as a baby. we can't make law with this shit and that's why we have to have symmetrical protections for all genders/sexes/expressions/presentations, bc naming and defining a protected class here often leaves the people who already are left out from those shared experiences of marginalisation out in the cold when they face violence