#and if I said it's the same person then yes

[emptymanuscript]

I would like to add... it's also, necessarily, forcing people to choose whether to conform to a particular definition of their gender identity and sexuality, that you came up with instead of them, so it may not be accurate, OR to out themselves which they may not be ready for.

My first introduction to the LGBTQ community was pretty much literal erasure.

A person who had previously identified as a Lesbian (Cis wasn't a common term at the time), was now trying out dating a boy - me, which I'll come back to - and they literally ignored and shunned her, like she wasn't even there. From inches away. If she spoke, they did not respond. If they spoke, they pointedly looked in any direction but hers.

These people had literally been friends of hers for years, but merely showing up while trying out dating a guy - we had been kinda dating for maybe two months-ish at that point - was treated as utter betrayal and turned her into a pariah. They literally cut her out of their lives with instant finality, because dating me made her "straight."

Which completely erases the category of bisexual.

Which also completely ignores me.

At the time, yes, I was quite insistent that I was a straight male. No question. But they also never asked. They didn't care. That I was there and have facial hair was all that mattered.

It took me years to simply admit that I was bi myself. And some of that time was absolutely because that initial experience made me want to have zero identity in common with those people who kicked her to the curb without an ounce of visible hesitation or second thought because "straights" were evil. Because it was exactly their definition or the highway. And Bisexuality, which years of being with a woman versus a couple of months being with a man couldn't possibly mean.

And I think it kind of troubles me even more now that I'm struggling with my basic identity issues, which force the question of whether or not she picked a guy because she is bi or if some part of her was already figuring out back then what I'm working on now, that maybe I was just the next girl but wasn't ready to cope with that yet. I'm barely able to cope with just the possibility now.

And you see what that means.

It means that that particular LGBTQ community, in a deeply aware, very urban area, evicted her in part because I wasn't emotionally ready to deal with my identity, let alone to come out.

That should have been my community, even by their own estimations and definitions. I'm sure they would have said, if I had been able to be out at that time, that they were my allies. But because I'm still not ready to really be out, or whatever, and wasn't ready to even admit I had even ever had those thoughts at all back then.

At best, I was separated from the community. More accurately, a wedge was driven between me and the community that I probably needed that was so deep a cut that I'm still struggling with it.

Worse, it placed that same equation's blame on me, the "straight guy," to do the same thing to her. It drove her out of the community that she already had, that she had helped form into the shape it was by her previous participation, because she dared to so much as TRY dating a "guy." Which was literally ALL they knew about me. I don't think they even knew my name. They didn't care. A+ at friendships victim blaming.

Hot take but I really do think that some of y’all need to consider how/why/when/how often you’re making fun of straight people for being straight

I do it too, I’m not going to pretend I don’t make jokes about the hets, or the down with cis bus, or whatever

But I recently befriended a cis, straight dude and I have watched him be dismissed, degraded, and unambiguously insulted for the perceived “crime” of being straight — all in queer environments where he is allegedly “completely welcome” and surrounded by “friends”

This guy is not a toxic person! But I have seen him be made to feel so small and like his comfort and safety in those spaces are conditional on his silence and acceptance of being treated like a human dunk zone, and I think that some of y’all have had so much shit from straight/cis people that the second you feel like you’ve got an inch, you want to luxuriate in the perceived catharsis of bullying someone who— actually —doesn’t deserve it

And until he very, very carefully mentioned to me in private that it makes him feel bad, I didn’t even clock that I was involved in doing that, that it had become so instinctive for me to make casual jokes like that, and that— well meaning or otherwise —I had been contributing to an environment that made someone I really really like feel like shit

So, I dunno, I think maybe some of y’all should think about that too

[greennoobartist]

Maybe no one noticed this but I definitely did!

Okay so, this is based on Four Swords manga again, could be a continuation to this, idk...

I was scrolling through my messy gallery and i was like

Is it hard to believe that these are actually eyes of A SAME PERSON!!!

Dammit like broooo!! The change in his eyes over the manga is like killing me!!

Believe it or not these are the eyes of a same person from first chapter (left) and seventh chapter (right)

I know that there's a difference in emotions at the moment but still!!! I feel like he was planned to have more lively and cheerful eyes than from what we have in the end 😔

[sqgeism]

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝 | mark grayson x gender neutral reader

love mail — mentions of S3 plot but no real spoilers. ι(｀ロ´)ノ mark grayson you will be famous !!!!!! hiii guuuuyyss... i know i said hsr but please watch invincible i swear it's peak.. also i might go thru a layout change again, forgive meeee o(T□T)o

there's not a life out there more suited for mark than this very moment.

in his bed lies his lover — oh, his lover. how he loves you, the way your hair almost perfectly sprawls itself all over his pillows, how peaceful you look at this very moment, and the fact that you even chose to date him at all. you're perfect in his eyes; no one could compare.

though, there was another person he loved. just as much as he loved you, which seemed impossible — yet it was true.

and there he was, cradling your little sister in his arms, soothing her nightmares as he cooed soft words of comfort. his voice was a sweet — saccharine — presence in the looming night as she cried in his arms.

"you're okay," mark says in hushed whispers. he's afraid his heart is about to burst hearing the saddened cries of his (yes, he's practically adopted your sister as his daughter) cranky baby. "papa's right here. don't worry."

this life was too perfect. he once believed he'd never find an escape from the hurt he faced, and here he was, unbelievably happy — with the love of his life and a 'baby girl.' (he wants to be a girl dad; is that such a crime?)

mark wants to tear up, but he stays strong. after all, he doesn't want to wake you to comfort two people.

but a life so perfect only exists in one universe — and mark has always been a little selfish.

when his variants invaded his earth, it didn't take long for them to wipe out half the population. it didn't take them long, to mark's dismay, to find you. he swore you'd be safe if you hid, and for a while, you and your baby survived the chaos. but the moment the steel door you locked yourself behind, that the isolation was too peaceful, you knew it was over.

you tremble at the all-too-familiar sight. it was mark — your boyfriend, the man you planned a future with and were in the process of living it. but his suit was different. the look in his eyes... was not one of love. perhaps he thought it was. after all, when you find out that your shithead alternate universe counterpart is happy, when you've torn your own world to pieces trying to search for such euphoria, who wouldn't be a little curious to find out what it's like?

"stop—" you gasp, clutching your barely three-year-old little sister in your arms, her head against your shoulder as you softly press her head further into you. she shouldn't have to watch her demise — or who exactly it is in the hands of.

this was terrifying. your mark, for all his strength, would never dream of hurting another person unless absolutely necessary. but here he technically was, covered in so... so much blood. you fight the urge to throw up as small bits and pieces of human remains are stuck against the dried crimson that stains his suit and body.

"when that big-headed idiot told me that the mark here had a loving family, a lover... a child... i couldn't believe it."

mark walks slowly, intentionally, almost methodically towards you. your breaths are shaky, and you can feel your little sister start to fuss after being held in the same position for so long. "please—" you plead, shutting your eyes as you hope for the death to simply be quick. you don't want to feel the life seeping from your very body or watch what he does to your little world. just let it be quick enough that your mark won't know it's your bodies that he'll eventually find.

but even as you know he's right in front of you, there's nothing — just the sound of your sister's fussy cries and the shaking of the ground as the mark variant you were so afraid of falls to his knees, as if defeated.

now you were confused. what kind of maniac crumbles to his feet after he's destroyed cities, probably his own planet, his own family? you didn't know, and to be quite frank, you weren't going to question him. you were still alive, and you just hoped mark wasn't going to snap your neck. "mark..?" the call of his name seemingly falls on deaf ears, as hands that killed thousands reach for your sister, and all you can do is watch. it's futile to run—you've accepted it. so you let him... even if every inch of your body screams at you for doing so.

his crimson red fingertips are delicate, holding her head to support it, and he presses her close to his chest. the world is quiet for once — no screaming, no explosions — just the sound of fire crackling outside and the cries of a baby turning into happy coos. she doesn't know it isn't him, her 'papa,' but it looks like him. for all the damage that he did, that changed him physically and emotionally, she still thinks it's her mark. "she's so..." the gentleness in his tone surprises you, and you hate how your heart aches at that. you want your mark, not any other, but this one is here, and you can't help it. "..perfect. i... i can't believe it."

that ache for a normal life, even in universes where mark is evil, never really goes away. it follows him, like a shadow — something he can't escape. so to think... after meeting so many variants who have lost everything — there's one who made it...

mark allows himself to be greedy. again, and again, he will take.

you can barely get a word in before you're taken into the air, unable to process what's going on until your feet are no longer on the ground and arms are wrapped protectively around you and your little sister.

when the invincibles came to your earth, you always assumed that they had killed their versions of you... or at least, lovers they had in their lives. perhaps the cause of their sanity was the cruelty of their universes. with no one to lean on, they had simply lost it all.

but it had never occurred to you that the possibility was that you simply never existed in such universes. that the invincibles — particularly the one kidnapping you right now — simply did what he had to, to have you. after all, a man's selfish greed will one day precede him.

[soupnomancy]

A million times yes. Also I had an experience™ last year where an HR person/recruiter for (a big) company contacted me bcs "they thought my profile matched what they were looking for to fill a role". I was interested and she set up an interview for the next day (also didn't give me barely any information on the role before hand bcs we could talk directly about this in the interview. We agreed on a time and the morning of the meeting we checked that we were still available. So the agreed time came and... she never called. I sent a couple messages like "I'm ready for the call" "I guess things are running late on your end, call me when you're ready" and "Is everything ok?" (cause at that point 2 hours had passed and I thought maybe she'd had some kind of personal emergency). I ofc never got a response to these or the "So what's going on with the role/interview?" I sent her during the following week. I thought ok they filled the position and decided to ghost me about it.

That's until 2 weeks after she had first contacted me, she asked for an interview again - absolutely no mention of or response to the previous messages I had sent her after she had ghosted me. I said yes bcs tbh I needed the job but I had 0 expectations. As expected, she did exactly the same thing: set up a time, confirm the meeting, ghost me and ignore my messages afterwards. At that point I was ready and didn't waste a whole afternoon waiting for a call...

Girly pop tried to do it a third time too.

not having the courtesy to send rejection letters should count against your reputation as a company and i’m so serious about that

[natalievoncatte]

She had been both dreading and anticipating this moment. The portal platform activated, the display confirming that the arrival was from Argo City. Purple hues danced across the strange crystalline walls of the Fortress of Solitude and Lena held her breath. This was not going yo be an easy reunion.

Lena still found it difficult to believe that he would ever trust her. The Man of Steel. Superman. Kal-El of Krypton. Karan’s cousin.

Clark.

He was dressed not in his super suit but a garment akin to a tunic bearing his colors and crest and he was not alone. A tall, narrowly built and energetic woman accompanied him, carrying a baby on one hip and guiding a toddler boy by the hand on the other side.

Lois Lane had a peculiar quality; she was thin and wiry and not conventionally lovely but somehow dominated every room she occupied with the same sheer force of personality that had captured the heart of the perfect man from the sky. Lena had fond memories of Lois when she and Clark and Lex were all friends in Metropolis, before her brother had gone mad. Lena was only a teenager then and intimidated by Lois.

Kara took a half step to greet her cousin, then paused. He wasn’t here for her.

The cyborg.

Half machine, the Kara of an alternate world, one that was erased in the Crisis-that-was-not-a-Crisis, was in many ways a sad, harrowing creature to look upon. Half her face was missing, replaced with gleaming steel, and Lena had recently replace a chunk of Kryptonite in her chest with a safer power source, one that powered the machinery she needed to live without torturing her at the same time.

“Who are you?” the cyborg rasped, her voice distant and tinny, ever on the verge of tears.

Clark shot Kara - their Kara- a brief glance, and they did that annoying silent-nod thing they did with each other and Clark approached their guest.

Though Clark towered over both Karas -he was the among the tallest men that Lena had ever met- Lena knew that Kara overmatched him in both speed and raw strength, had actually witnessed them fight once when Clark was not himself. Still, he cut a regal and imposing figure. Kara wore her heritage like a mourning shroud as often as not, but Clark carried his like a banner.

The cyborg regarded him uneasily.

“Who are you?”

“My human name is Clark Kent, but I am Kal-El, the son of Jor-El.”

The cyborg looked up sharply and met his gaze, unwavering. She reached up with both hands, one unnaturally cold flesh and the other a skeletal claw, and lightly brushed either cheek.

“I never knew you on my Earth. I was sent by portal, not by pod, and there wasn’t enough energy to open it again before Krypton exploded.”

There as a brief, heavy pause and then he gathered her broken form in a bear hug and held her. The peculiar rasping noises she made turned out to be sobs, as she tried desperately to cry with the only tears her abused form could muster, a thin trickle of blood from her remaining eye.

“I was always alone. I was the last of my kind.” She drew back and looked at him. “You were a baby. You’re so big.”

“Kara tells me they’re taking your Lena to Themyscira, is that right?” Clark said, releasing her.

“Yes. I don’t know what that means. There was no such place where I came from.”

“They’ll help her. I can’t go, it’s a place of women.”

“I’m going,” said Lois. “I’ve never been and it sounds like you could use the moral support. Clark can watch the boys for a few days.”

Cyborg Kara edged closer to her and they spoke in hushed tones, about what Lena wasn’t sure.

Her attention was consumed by Clark as he loomed over her.

“Lena,” he said.

“Clark,” she said.

Kara walked to Lena’s side but said nothing, making a more profound statement by draping her arm protectively around Lena’s waist.

“Kara told me quite a bit about everything that’s happened between you.”

“She has?” Lena said, cautiously.

“I have,” said Kara.

Clark looked bemused. “You both think I’m surprised, but I was there when you two first met and I have super-senses. I’m not sure which of your hearts was beating harder. It was just a matter of time, really.”

“It was our, ah, guest that pushed me to speak up,” said Lena, “to tell her how I feel. After that it was just… natural.”

Kara looked at her and Lena forgot everything. The biting cold of the Fortress, the weight of Superman’s gaze, the presence of Kara’s tragic doppelgänger, everything but the pure look of adoration in Kara’s silly smile. It was like the cyborg had told her that night she first appeared in Lena’s apartment: there was something fundamental between them, a link that could not be explained, not even quantified. It seemed silly to think about it in such terms but once Lena just let go of her fear and accepted it, it was as much part of the world as sunshine and birdsong. They belonged to each other as surely as the moon belongs to the sky.

“You two should visit,” said Clark. “Introduce Lena to your mother.”

“Clark,” Kara said, uneasily. “Krypton… how would I introduce her? I’m not going to pretend that we’re not together. Our language doesn’t even have a word for queer.”

“It does now,” he said. “Things are changing. They’re looking to the future, not the mistakes of the past.”

“Maybe we’ll visit,” Kara said, “but we have something to do first, someone who needs our help.”

That someone was being brought through now. The alternate Lena was an unsettling sight- Kara may have already met clones and parallel universe copies of herself but Lena was new at this and it was hard to process.

Inside the stasis pod, her twin was not quite her twin; older and leaner, she had laugh lines around her mouth but there was a worn quality to her beauty; even in an artificial sleep it was obvious that her closed eyes had seen too much.

“You’re going to be okay,” Lena told herself as Alex walked up.

“It’s time,” she said.

[sunrisecaminus]

Love your writing ! Can I ask tfp Megatron and tfp Optimus HCS with a single cybertronian carrier (autobot) who has three sparklings (specifically two boys and one girl) and that is struggling but is strong anyways?? How would they treat her and her sparklings? Thank you!

Message - Do I agree with Cybertronians becoming pregnant? I have no idea, I am not an expert in that. Will I write almost anything y'all request even if I personally disagree with the logic? YES! Throw anything at me, I will be as passionate as you are about these.

Megatron/Optimus x Pregnant Cybertronian Reader

Summary - Megatron and Optimus headcanons about how they take care of their pregnant conjunx!

Warning - Pregnancy

Megatron

~ Megatron could not believe his optics when he figured out his conjunx was pregnant. Honestly he forgot sparklings could be produced after all this time.

~ Is he happy about it? Oh he is ecstatic! He would twirl you around and call you his beloved beauty.

~ Don't move, if Megatron does not see you in his birth or anywhere around the throne room, he will go panic mode by destroying the entire ship.

~ If you had triplets, he would have to plan out what you both would do in this situation. Having more than one child is very rare for Cybertronians, and with having the war still going on, Megatron would need future back-ups just in case something bad happened.

~ Honestly he would leave Earth and stay in its orbit for a while to take care of the kids for a few years.

~ Optimus would never figure out his mortal enemy had sparklings, Megatron would hide you from the world to make sure you live peacefully.

~ He would hide you from even his own ship, only having a rare few of mechs know your ware bouts.

~ Knockout would know to make sure you are happy and healthy, also he would be amazing with being a babysitter if you ever needed one.

~ Dreadwing is your guardian when Megatron is not there. He would basically be your nice butler and grab whatever you want.

~ Soundwave…well…he will just keep tabs of you, but of course Soundwave will know about you.

~ Most of the time, Megatron would cuddle you in bed, keeping his arms around you at all times and slide you close to his chassis. You love to hear his sparkbeat.

~ Do you have a favorite type of energon? Watch as Megs forcing his soldiers to travel around the world to find said energon.

~ Trying to plan out baby names are probably the best of Megatron's days. He would never chose a name that you didn't like, but you better do the same respect to him if he didn't like a name you picked out. That would rarely happen though, Megs likes most names you bring to the table.

~ He would kill anyone immediately for you if anything goes wrong. Let's say someone shoves you on the shoulder, Megatron would drag there ass and torture them. If they ever talked bad about you, he would shoot them in the head so fast.

Optimus

~ Speaking of which, the Prime has never been more emotional before in his like.

~ First, he is very happy to know that you are pregnant, but he is also terrified and feels a bit of regret.

~ He never wants any sparkling to be born in the world of war. Now knowing you are burdened to have to carry more than one child scares him…So obviously he swears to protect you with his life.

~ Having you with him at his birth is like if the war was never there for him; Your frame close to him makes Optimus not want to leave your touch ever.

~ Cup his cheeks with your servos, and that gentle giant would stay there for as long as you wish. Leaning against your hands, gently grabbing your hips to gift you a similar touch.

~ He would try to let you name the kids yourself, not feeling like he earned the role of father. Just encourage him and Optimus would help give some good names.

~ If you ever got hurt, holy crap this is where is gets weird. Optimus hasn't felt this much rage since Megatron first started war with him.

~ One of the times he would ever walks off the path of the autobot code, is when someone physically hurts you one purpose.

~ The prime would ground his own soldiers if he hears any one of them insult you.

~ Ratchet is obviously your doctor, that mech will save your life many times.

~ Ultra Magnus tells you whenever you have an event coming up, he will also be your baby shower planner. (Don't tell anyone, but he is a master at planning and designing parties.)

~ Get Smokescreen away from you, do you know how many questions he has about how you got triplets? He will ask many inappropriate questions that would get the human kids to ask questions and NO ONE WANTS THAT!

~ Optimus would dancing with you slowly in his room before y'all go to bed, swaying you around to help you get sleepy.

~ He would stare into your eyes all day if he could, just watching the life through them light up.

[almostmylove]

Shatter me with your love Part 4

Synopsis: everything is just going great

Being in a school play wasn’t really your thing. Like at all. or at least it wasn't before. but here you were, making the final touches ups to your outfits before the day of play.

it was a fashionable outfit, one that looked straight out of the 1960's, not too much was needed other the final touches and fixing a few tears. As you finish the final touches you here your drama teacher, Ms parker call out to everyone. “ ok listen up class” she claps her hands loudly, grabbing everyone's attention to the teacher.

“Tomorrow is the big day so i need you guys to rest and prepare for tomorrow . We have worked for this for the few months.” your drama teacher continues her dramatic speech, you daze off. you were too busy thinking about your classes, more specifically- your grades. drama was open of the easy classes that had a nice teacher that would let things go a lot but the same couldn't be said for your other classes. you were absolutely failing, too focused on other stuff like the play, work and family problems. you weren't a bad student per say, all you needed was to finish this week and then things would go back to normal.

as your mind wonders somewhere else you hear something that catches your attention.

“ psft” you hear from beside you. You turn slightly to your right side to only to see Your friend, Marly, crouched down on one knee looking holding her finished costume “ what is it? ”you quickly whispered making sure your eyes faced the teacher as she talked.

“ i was thinking, maybe we could hang out at your house someday?” She asked her voice laced with mischief . “ hell no” you quickly replied. You knew how she was, and it wasn't any good. she wanted to meet your family to see if she could fancy one of them but the only person that was the closest age as was tim and he wouldn’t have time for her. the others lets say also don't have my interest to her

“ aww why not?” She whined dramatically . “ you don’t want to meet them, trust me . they wouldn’t pay attention to you Marly anyways” you chuckled trying to make the comment light hearted.

“ that's not true, they would be delighted to meet me! maybe you could consider me your future sister in law” Marly Responds, blowing a kiss to you. “Pftt trust, there's already enough people in my family” you countered shutting her comments down .

“ yeah i guess well what can you say when your dads a whore” "past player" I correct. honestly it didn't matter or people what title your father had in the past because to them he will always be above, billion "playboy" Bruce wayne. you both start laughing like, forgetting that your teacher was in the middle of a speech.

“Eh hem” a rough scratchy voice say, recognizing it as your teachers. “ yes ms, parker.” both of you say in sync, immediately straightening up .

“ well? what do you young ladies find so funny” ms. parker ask her voice bombing with authority now grabbing the attention of the whole class. everyone's eyes bur into your backs, you could practically feel them engraving around your body. “ nothing ms Parker, just foolish banter .Marly answers on the behalf of both of you while you stay quite, eyes glued to your costume. Both of you lower your heads in shame. “ well i guess it wouldn’t be a problem in detention. Go now” she commands shooing you guys off. Both of you look at each other in disbelief but you guys followed orders leaving class. Feeling the eyes of your classmates and the disappointed gaze of your teacher deciding to walk faster. welp, there goes your favorite teachers list into the trash.

You and marly walked through the nearly empty, echoy walls of your school. every twist and turn you made only made you question the validity of this whole thing. it didn't take too long before you reached a unique soon with a big detention sign plastered front and center. it was only a few classes away and it felt shorter as you chatted about small mindless rumors and banter. truly without Marly you would of dropped out a long time.

Once inside it didn't take you guys long until school ended, drama was your last class.

You were never a bad kid so you bad never gotten detention before unlike Damien but you assumed that by now your father had gotten an email or something informing him about your detention notice.

The bell rang, ringing thru your ears , a sign to get the hell out of there. You grab your bag that carries your school supplies and your play costume and made your way out with Marly. Gotham city was one of those that by September snow covered almost every visible part of Gotham. So when you walked out it was snowing lightly and it was getting dark .

You wave goodbye to Marly who quickly zipped up her winter coat and bag in hand, grinning from ear from ear, returning the wave .

You chuckle to yourself wondering how you got a friend like her. You didn’t deserve her and you knew it. Alfred by now had already picked Damien and probably wouldn’t have time to pick you up. It didn’t matter tho because you usually walked anyways , no matter weather or time . The streets were empty like always , post sane people didn’t want to be out at night at night. Too many criminals and villains out. But you didn’t have a choice, there was no-one that would pick you up at this time plus you were almost home. Gotham high was farther away then you would have liked, about 30 minutes walking. It got easier as time went on. You remember that on a day like this, chilly , snowing and getting dark was the first day that you had to walk on your own because the car had broken down and it wasn’t fixable. He had assured you that he would be there in 20 minutes but he never came. Turns out that Damien had to be driven to his tae kwon do after school. “Either you wait until i drop of master Damien or you can walk home miss (name) ” that's what pennyworth told you over the phone. It wasn’t really much of a choices, it was getting dark and you didn’t want to look like an open target tho walking wasn’t any better. That evening you walk all the way from your high school to the manner clutching your bag , weary of any sound and sharp corner. You were about 14-15. You reach the manner opening the door in silence, immediately being hit with the scent of Alfred's cooking; pasta you thought. You walked past the kitchen without a glance, you planned on getting food later in the night and your brothers and dad were going on patrol like every night.

As you walked past you hear a deep voice calling out to you from in the space. You walked backwards taking another look at the kitchen and saw something that you never thought you would .

Your eyes wide and hearty pumped slightly faster at the sight of your whole family there. Bruce , Jason , dick , Damien even Alfred was sat down and they were all looking at you. you wondered what you did wrong this time.

@mys0cksrwet

[inthelibrarybtw]

you want me to pretend? | four

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: college!basketball!captain!rafe x college!student!reader content: fluff, teasing, college au, smau/irl

summary: You were trying to make one problem disappear. You were tired, so you lied. That small lie led you to contact the last person you wanted to ask for help. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Rafe; only that you didn’t want to deal with his constant teasing more than you already did. Also, you two weren't that close, but this one lie was going to bring you two closer and maybe help some truths come to light.

word count: 0.9k

authors note: maybe my favorite chapter so far. so thankful for all the support on this, I love to see your comments and what you guys think will happen love y'all.

03 | 04 | 05

Friday

Saturday

“Now that we both have our coffees, let’s talk,” Rafe said as both of you sat down.

“Okay…”

“Look, just before we start, I’m sorry if I overstepped. I didn’t mean to mess up your plan.”

“It’s okay, Rafe. I understand why you did it. You thought it through more than I did; it’s all good, I promise. But we do need to talk about what happens with this.”

“Are you asking me what we should do?”

“Yes, because the situation right now is weird. I always tell my parents everything, like not in a strange way or—” he cuts you off.

“You have a good relationship with them; I saw that.” You smiled softly.

“Yeah, I do. So, me not telling them that I was dating someone is already a big deal. If, let’s say, next week I tell them we’re not together anymore, it’s going to be weird.”

“Yeah, so how long do you want this to go on for?”

“You really don’t mind doing this for longer than two nights?”

“I told you yesterday it’s okay; it’s not the usual favor, but it’s fine.” Your mind took you back to what Angie had said to you, but you quickly brushed it off. He is just doing this because he likes to help, and he is your friend, you told yourself.

“I just have to be sure.”

“By all means, so how long? Two months?”

“Two months?” you asked, a bit shocked. “I was thinking one…”

“Most couples break up after the three-month mark, not exactly at the three-month mark.”

“You seem to know a lot about this.”

“I’m just saying, if you say you want to make things believable, then let’s ‘break up’ right before Thanksgiving.”

“My birthday is next month.”

“So?”

“Usually, I invite my family and some friends over, and now I would have to invite you. We can’t do this in front of our friends; we need some ground rules.”

“Fine by me.” Rafe took his phone out and opened the notes app to annotate. “One, no one—and I mean NO ONE—has to know besides us.”  

“Copy that.”  

“Two, we pretend only in my house, and when my parents are there, of course.”  

“Yeah, okay. So pretending means what? Because I didn’t do much yesterday.”  

“Like, physical touch is okay when we are with my parents—like holding hands and hugging, I guess.”  

“And kisses?” he smirked teasingly.  

“On the cheek.”  

“Forehead?”  

“Yeah, that too.”  

“Lips?”  he wiggled his eyebrows

“Jesus, Rafe.”  

“It’s a genuine question, Y/N.” You knew he wasn’t really asking; he was just doing it to mess with you.  

“Pecks only, nothing more.”  

“Copy that, ma'am.” He did a little salute while smirking. “Pet names? I already called you princess yesterday. Is that okay, or should I stop?”  

“If you need to use them, then fine; but still the same, only around my parents.”  

“Well, that’s gonna be hard.”  

“That’s not really my problem,” you said, taking a sip of your coffee, and he chuckled.  

“Okay, so we are set… we continue this and break up before Thanksgiving.”  

“Sounds good… oh wait, under no circumstances are you staying over at my house.”  

“Why is this important?” he asked, confused.  

“The last guy I dated stayed over a couple of times because it was too late or something with the weather.” He nodded while you talked.  

“Okay then, no staying over.” He typed on his phone. “Now we are set.”  

“Thank you, Rafe…”  

“You're welcome.”  

After that talk, you two kept the conversation going. It was like the dinner the day before had been a good icebreaker and opened the door to getting to know Rafe and becoming friends. A couple of hours went by, and then you said your goodbyes and went to your respective cars.

Today

Even after your talk with Rafe, you were still anxious about the whole situation. But today was different; it was more of a chill setting—game night, snacks, and living room-only vibes. For most of the afternoon, it was just like that.

Establishing ground rules had improved your dynamic; he knew what he could and couldn’t do, and you knew what to expect, so your anxiety was more under control this time around. He grabbed your hand or played with your hair. It was a good afternoon that extended a bit longer, so of course, when you thought everything was done for the day, it wasn’t.

Your dad seemed to be your biggest enemy this weekend. Since he had told Rafe to stay and watch the basketball game that night, and of course, Rafe said yes. Now you were sitting on the couch with Rafe and your dad, watching a game while you scrolled through your phone, not caring about whatever was happening in front of you. From time to time, Rafe grabbed your thigh in stress, and even though you knew you had given him permission to do things like that, you still felt a bit weirded out by it all.

To take your mind off the whole situation currently unfolding, you decided to give Angie an update on what had happened and what was going to happen. It was also a good idea to keep yourself busy before you went to help your mom with dinner, which Rafe had offered to help with because he wanted to know what made your mom’s food so great.

taglist: @zyafics @maybankslover @niaunoffical @marleymarleymarleymarley @rafesbabygirlx @akobx @papercranesandinkstains @drewstarkeyspecs @winterivory @my-name-is-baby @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @drewrry @ursogorgeous13 @pr3tty-pink @lmaowhatt @reeseswirl @xoxosblogsblog @lili-swagalicious @ayy1234567 @rihannamars @congratsloserr @moonywhisp3rs @iamheretoread1234 @rafesdrew @bee-43 @pogueprincesa @cokewithcameron @landososcar @drewstarkeyslover if you want to be added send an ask or comment! :) follow and turn on notifications on @inthelibrarybtw-notifs to get updates on everything i write

REBLOGS, COMMENTS AND LIKES ARE ALWAYS WELCOMED

INTHELIBRARYBTW ✧.*

[loveforlukeynewts]

So I’m confused. And wondering if you can help me with more info in Luke’s defense. I’m new to this and was all in with Lukola but now I’m reading so much about Luke. All the posting that he and Antonia did on IG was obviously coordinated but she gets all the blame. And then it seems obvious he may have been in on the papgate since no one else was papped and the colors they wore were intentional and somewhat rude even if he hadn’t been papped. All of this would be insulting to Nic and the whole cast as well as his fans. Then all the HBS crap from the summer before seems pretty creepy. It’s like he has two sides to him. Nicola is always talking him up and complimenting him and he rarely reciprocates. It’s hard to ignore these things as they really did seem to happen. He ignores his fans and most all Nics posts and achievements right after the WT and didn’t help promote S3 after WT like Nic did. It’s just confusing to me. What are your thoughts on these things. I’m not trying to cause trouble I’m just curious. I’d really love for them to be together as it seems there are real feelings between them.

Thanks for the ask.

When it comes to Luke, unfortunately there are sides of the fandom that feel he is a creep, a jerk, riding Nic’s coattails, disrespecting her, involved in pap gate, a lazy bum who doesn’t try to get work…I could go on.

So here’s my thoughts on what you’ve asked:

1. Luke was not involved in pap gate. No one has definitive proof of this fact but like everything else with Antonia, just look at his face and his body language. Tense, upset, angry, like he’d rather be anywhere else. He did not set it up to be papped with her. He didn’t even want to take her hand.

The colour SHE wore was intentional. Luke is styled by professionals. And his shirt was barely yellow! What he wore gives no clues to indicate Luke had any involvement in setting up pap gate.

People who think Luke was involved are Luke haters IMO, and I have no time for that bs.

2. I have no issue with Luke taking time off and having a fun summer with his friends. He just spent 6 months working. And yes, so did Nicola but they are not the same people nor do they handle things the same way. She kept working. He took some time off.

3. Promoting S3 - I’m honestly tired of people saying Luke didn’t promote S3 as much as Nicola. Let’s remember the hate Luke got thanks to pap gate and HBS and for literally living.

Luke and Nicola are completely different in many ways and social media is one. Luke has never been as active as Nicola on social media. People act like he never promoted S3 but I guarantee there are fans who have screenshots of every single story and post he ever shared about Polin Season. Maybe it wasn’t as much as Nicola, but it wasn’t nothing.

The biggest defense of Luke in this regard is the fact that Jonathan Bailey didn’t do a lot of social media promo for S2, and Luke Thompson will do no social media promo for S4 unless he gets an account somewhere and that is doubtful.

Will the fandom turn on Luke T next and say he’s a terrible person and how dare he treat Yerin that way and disrespect his season like that? I can say with much certainty that will not happen because it’s ‘Hate Luke Newton Season�� all the time.

4. Re: Likes on IG, I will say only this - Likes don’t matter. Never have. Never will. Go through all of Luke’s posts - has Nic liked them all? No, she hasn’t.

These are people who are in regular contact. Social media means nothing in the grand scheme of their relationship (whether you believe it’s a friendship or love relationship).

5. I don’t know who is telling you Luke ignores his fans but they are liars and enjoy spewing crap about him. There are vids all over social of Luke interacting and taking pics with, even having convos with fans, as recently as during the night of the BAFTAS after parties.

Why is he said to not interact with fans? Because he’s not on social often and doesn’t acknowledge fan accounts? Nicola does that now and then on TikTok but it’s not a regular thing.

🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

I think I covered it all. Apologies if I didn’t.

Now, I don’t know if you submitted this ask to draw me in to get my thoughts so you can troll me depending on my response or if you are genuinely asking me to respond because you don’t know.

If it’s the former, have at ‘er. Trolls don’t scare me and I will not waiver in my support for Luke or Nicola, or Lukola for that matter.

If it’s the latter, I really suggest you do some looking around on social media, see things for yourself and check out lots of the great fan-based accounts out there.

And by fan-based accounts, I mean the ones who wholly support both Luke and Nicola no matter what ship they’re on (if they’re even on a ship).

All in all, this fandom is very broken with all the different sides - anti Luke’s, anti Nic’s, Lukolas, Jakolas, Luktonias and anti Luke and Nicola’s as a duo (in general, not just romantically).

Find your place but always keep an open mind. And don’t jump to conclusions about anything. Ultimately this entire fandom knows absolutely nothing when it comes to Luke and Nicola.

We are all just speculating based on information that we have, which is very little if you think about how much of Luke and Nicola’s lives we do not see.

I will close in saying I created my Love for Lukey Newts account last summer after seeing all the nastiness going around about Luke.

I will defend him always unless he gives me a real reason not to (not because he enjoys his summers off, he vapes, he doesn’t give a like to IG posts, etc).

I was a fan of his long before Bridgerton so I’m not a fair weather Luke fan. He is a brilliant actor, from all accounts a wonderful person and is not deserving of the bad rap he’s been labelled with by some.

So don’t expect anything other than support for him from me!

[coconut530]

BREAK THOSE CHAINS BOI

[littelovelunette]

Sevika x reader as Sevika's boss, smut!! but reader finds her so attractive so she's been eyeing Sevika since before. So one day reader intendedly wears fitted low cut top and short skirt and didn't wear any panties to seduce Sevika. She called Sevika to come at the office and Sevika was so shocked at the sight of her boss's body. Also, make sevika being submissive to reader as she respect her so much but her boss is so freakyyy

"Yes, Boss."

Modern AU!Sevika x Boss!Reader

Contains smut, biting, submissive!Sevika, oral, masterbating

You're not dumb, you've seen the way your worker Sevika looks at you. As if she's mentally undressing you, fantasizing how your breasts would feel in her hands and wondering of all the risky places to ruin all three of your holes.

You didn't deny your desires to yourself, you felt the same way. But if you were a betting man, you'd put your money on Sevika NEVER acknowledging she felt that way about you. No matter how Sevika's social life was outside of work, she wasn't the type to put her job at risk by confessing such depraved thoughts to her boss— you.

If anything, it made you like her even more. The way her muscles always flexed under her blazer, you would be licking the ground she walked on had she come to you with that demand.

It had been only two months Sevika started working for your firm, you hadn't hired her personally you usually let the manager handle such tedious tasks. You were a very busy woman but the moment your eyes laid on her... You started clearing your schedule out for even the less impactful meetings just so you could catch a glimpse of Sevika. She was a sight to behold.

One particular day, you couldn't find a top to wear so you wore a shirt that barely held onto cover your cleavage and just before a big meeting, the top button popped.

Thank goodness, you had a tanktop in your car. You put it on under the shirt so it somewhat hid the lacy bra underneath. It was slightly better that way.

That day, Sevika didn't stop eyeing you as if she'd spread you over the table and devour you all the way.

As if she'd bend you over your own desk and give you the most ruthless backshots ever.

However, of course, Sevika had quite the good self control and an even straighter moral compass but if there was something that wasn't straight— it was her sexuality.

You gestured all the other workers to leave after you had said a soft, "Dismissed."

Sevika got up, but you gestured her to stay behind. Sevika, now slightly confused, stared at you as if waiting for you to give her your reason for holding her back but you never did. Instead, you closed the door and clicked the lock in place.

"What do you nee—"

Before Sevika could finish asking her question, your lips went crashing against hers in a bruising manner. Her eyes fluttered shut and she grabbed the table behind herself to keep balance, your tongue swept her bottom lip in a silent ask for entry.

Sevika opened her mouth granting you the opportunity to tongue fuck her mouth. And oh, her mouth was exactly how you expected it to be. You could smell cigarettes on her breath and her mouth was feverishly warm.

"You need me, don't you?" You smirked.

Sevika, flushing slightly now, swallowed the spit in her mouth before giving you a hesitant nod.

"Come on, say it," you urged.

"I need you," Sevika mumbled.

"That's a good girl," you pushed her to sit down.

As she sat down on one of the arm chairs, you bent, your short skirt riding up and exposing your glistening cunt from underneath. Your fingers wrapped around her muscular calves, giving them a good squeeze before moving up to remove her pants followed by her boxers.

There she was.

A happy trail spreading evenly over the mound, her fat clit was swollen and red as if she'd been denying its needs for the longest time. Her folds were wet. Maybe not as much as yours but still wet.

"And you never made a move on me?" You looked up, shaking your head, "Tch."

Sevika blushed darker and had the sudden urge to grab the back of your head and stuff your face in her pussy if it meant shutting your smug comments. But she didn't. She respected you with all that was in her. She didn't want to risk losing her job.

You spread her pussy lips using two fingers before licking her slit, a small kitten lick.

"Oh, come on, tell me what you like," you teased.

Sevika seemed as if she was deep in thought, contemplating what she should say. She didn't want to get too freaky, she didn't want to say something that would repulse you so she chose her words very carefully.

"Biting," Sevika muttered.

"Biting?"

Your smirk darkened. You grazed your teeth against the inner side of her thigh before sinking them in just enough to leave a dominating mark, nothing enough to make her bleed though.

But Sevika wanted it.

You could see it in her eyes.

Sevika's head was thrown back exposing the mid column of her throat, so fucking slutty and so fucking hot. Your pussy clenched around nothing so you trailed a hand down to give it some attention.

Two fingers disappeared inside and you moaned, biting onto Sevika thigh again this time dangerously close to her pussy making her hips raise off the chair for a brief second before she obediently sat her ass back down.

Her body was shuddering from the pain but you could see just how wet she was getting from being treating like a chewtoy.

You let go of the reddened bite mark and moved to lick her clit, taking it in your mouth and giving it a firm kiss. Your tongue circled it before pressing flat against it. Finally, Sevika let out a—

"Hnngh..."

"Yeah, you like that?"

Your voice was a low purr, your tongue working its magic on her pussy. You lapped up all the juices she was spilling on the chair. Tongue slithered easily over her folds and between them before sinking inside her slit and tongue fucking her. You retracted your tongue just to tease it back inside.

Your fingers started working faster in your cunt causing you to moan in her pussy, a vibration making Sevika let out another small yet incredibly slutty—

"Hah," she exhaled.

You were nowhere done with her, in fact you had only started. Sevika was a complete mess although she wasn't exactly the verbal kind, the way her body reacted to your touch spoke volumes she didn't have to.

"So damn responsive," you praised.

"Yes, boss," Sevika whispered, coming undone causing her body to tense up and the veins in her neck rose, her clit twitched.

And that's how you and Sevika became a thing. A very interesting dynamic.

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Deuce Spade - Night Sky Chiffon Vignette

I heard him challenge me and I just…

[Library – Entrance Hall]

Riddle: The Princess in the Tower used a frying pan on a thief built like a brick in the closet…

[staaaaare]

Jack: ME!?

Kalim: I mean, you're the tallest out of all of us, right?

Deuce: There aren't any closets in the library… So I guess we'll need to use a supply room instead.

Jack: Hey, don't just ignore me! How were you planning on using "this" to lock me in, anyway?

Deuce: That's where I'm stuck. Housewarden, none of the books said how it was done, right?

Riddle: Correct. There's nothing written other than "The thief was locked up using the frying pan."

Deuce: So we gotta come up with something on our own, huh. Hmmm… I can't really think of what to use it for other than frying eggs.

Jack: I think "frying eggs" is a bit too specific. But I do agree, I can't think of anything else but using it to cook.

Kalim: Saaame. I can't think of anything.

Riddle: Perhaps when she came across the thief, she just happened to have a frying pan in her hands.

Deuce: I see. I guess if you're holding a frying pan, it could be used to intimidate a thief somewhat.

Deuce: Plus, maybe if I raised it up high like this…

Jack: Hmph, what, you think that's threatening?

Jack: It's said he was a thief, so he's probably had to deal with guards, or needed to run for long periods.

Jack: But the princess had been locked up in the tower forever, and never squared off against another person before.

Jack: Can't imagine the thief would ever lose to the princess unless he was somehow tied down or something.

Deuce: Who knows? The princess was always doing a ton of climbing, which woulda build up muscle.

Jack: What, you wanna go?

Deuce: Yeah, let's go!

Kalim: Ahahaha, suddenly Deuce's the Princess in the Tower and Jack's become the thief!

Riddle: You two are getting too heated. Leave your little tiff for later.

Deuce: Ah, sorry! I heard him challenge me and I just…

Deuce: …Oh!

Deuce: What if the princess didn't fight him or use force to stop him, but challenged him to something to make him listen to her?

Kalim: What's that supposed to mean?

Deuce: Jack just said, "Can't imagine the thief would ever lose to the princess," right?

Deuce: What if the thief also thought the same thing? I bet he wouldn't turn down a challenge from the princess, then.

Riddle: I see, so she used his carelessness to her advantage.

Jack: If what Deuce says is true and he lost to her in some way, I can understand the thief listening to her, sure…

Jack: But that still doesn't explain how the frying pan was used.

Kalim: Mmm… Oh hey, maybe it was used for tennis? A frying pan and a racket are pretty much the same thing.

Riddle: There's no ball, now is there? And it would be a massive issue if a ball or racket were to hit the books!

Riddle: Although, it may not be too bad of an idea to consider some sort of game that would utilize something similar to a frying pan.

Deuce: Something similar to a frying pan, huh. It'd have to have a rounded end and a thin handle…

Deuce: …A spoon?

Deuce: Oh yeah, if it's that one game that uses a spoon, then...!!

Kalim: Hm? You come up with something, Deuce?

Deuce: Yes! The "Egg Race"!

Jack: Egg Race? What's that?

Riddle: It's a common game that's played on sports days back in the Queendom of Roses.

Deuce: You balance a whole egg on a spoon and run towards the goal. The fastest one is the winner.

Deuce: I think the rules are different depending on where it's played, like some places'll disqualify you if you drop the egg, and others just make you start all over.

Jack: So, in other words, you're saying we should try playing this Egg Race thing with a frying pan instead of a spoon?

Deuce: Yeah. Wouldn't that make it a challenge that can be done with a frying pan?

Kalim: I like the idea! Oh, but… We don't have eggs. Should we ask someone to bring some?

Riddle: I find it hard to believe that an egg would fall easily from the surface of a frying pan, in the first place.

Deuce: It'll work. I've thought about that too!

Deuce: We still have a ton of sugar cubes left over that was brought in with the tea set.

Deuce: We'll stack them up high in the center of the frying pan, and whoever makes it to the goal without letting them topple over wins.

Deuce: How's that sound?

Riddle: It's not that difficult to stack cubes of sugar, though…

Kalim: Ack, they all fell over when I picked up the frying pan. It's gonna be hard to run while keeping it balanced.

Riddle: But it may be easy to implement in the library… Let us try Deuce's idea.

Deuce: Alright. So, Jack!

Deuce: IT'S TIME TO DUEL, YOU AND ME, WITH THIS SUGAR CUBE RACE!

Jack: What!?

[Library – Entrance Hall]

Deuce: Alright. So, Jack!

Deuce: IT'S TIME TO DUEL, YOU AND ME, WITH THIS SUGAR CUBE RACE!

Jack: What!?

Riddle: Ah, yes, if we are to consider this a competition between the prince and the thief, then a head-to-head duel is appropriate.

Kalim: Ahahah! Jack and Deuce, one-on one, huh! This is gonna be good～!

Deuce: If I win against you, I'm gonna have you go into that supply room over there.

Jack: You really want that duel with me, huh… What are you trying to pull here?

Deuce: Nothing? Oh, I get it. You're scared.

Deuce: I mean, if you think you can't beat me, we can think of a different idea…

Jack: Huh? Who's scared?

Jack: I didn't say I wasn't gonna do it. I'll take you on!

Deuce: The goal is the bookshelf on the far wall. The one who can make it there without letting the sugar cubes fall over wins.

Jack: Yeah, yeah, I know the rules. Let's start already.

Kalim: Okay, get yourselves lined up. Ready… SET, GO!

Jack/Deuce: LET'S GOOOO!!!!!

[dash!!]

Jack: Woah, the sugar cubes almost fell over already.

Jack: Tch… I want to pick up more speed, but running without letting it fall is taking all my focus.

Riddle: His sugar cubes almost toppled over right at his starting dash, but it looks like he recovered somehow.

Riddle: It seems like Jack has changed it up and opted to take larger strides.

Riddle: There's not a single wasted movement in his steps, he's very consistent. I'm sure his core is very well built.

Kalim: Jack's just zooming along! But Deuce hasn't moved at all from the start line.

Kalim: He's been adjusting how he holds the frying pan for a while now… Is he having trouble keeping the sugar cubes standing?

Riddle: No… Take a look. DEUCE IS OFF AND RUNNING!

Kalim: He's so fast!! But if he hurries too much, the sugar cubes'll fall over.

Kalim: …Huh, they're not moving at all. Deuce is almost caught up to Jack. This is turning out to be an awesome match!

Riddle: This is no time to be enjoying the race with your commentary. It will all come down to whether this can be considered passable for this specific anecdote.

Kalim: Oh, right. But we can still cheer for them, right? KEEP IT UP, YOU TWO!!!

Riddle: How carefree… Oh.

Riddle: Deuce has almost caught up to Jack, even though he had a delayed start…!

Jack: Urk, when did you...!

Deuce: You sure you can afford to look away? I'll be taking the lead now!!

Jack: Wait! Dammit, his running is so smooth…!

[dash!!]

Kalim: Deuce has passed Jack… and widened the lead!!

Riddle: THE RACE IS OVER! THE WINNER IS DEUCE SPADE!!

Deuce: YEAH!

Kalim: Deuce, you did amazing catching up. I totally thought Jack was gonna win.

Riddle: Indeed. I hadn't expected you to be able to run at such speeds while keeping yourself steady as you did.

Jack: …So it's not like you were trying to pull some trick on me, but you were challenging me in something you knew you could win in.

Jack: Tch… It's your win, Deuce.

Kalim: Huh, what's that mean?

Deuce: I knew I'd be able to win in the sugar cube race, is all.

Deuce: I've had tons of experience riding blastcycles up bumpy gravel roads and steep slopes.

Deuce: I'm pretty confident in my ability to keep my balance.

Riddle: So, back at the starting line, were you adjusting your grip on the frying pan, trying to figure out the best way to hold it steady?

Deuce: Pretty much, yes.

Jack: Looks like I got provoked into it.

Jack: I hate to say it, but a loss is a loss. I'll let myself get shoved into the supply room.

Jack: I'm ready to go. Do it now, Deuce!

Deuce: RIGHT, HERE WE GO, JACK!!

[SLAM!!!]

[Exterior Hallway 2F]

Riddle: We're finally back on the campus proper. We can still see the lanterns so clearly from here.

Kalim: It's so pretty～ I'm glad I get to enjoy this view with you guys.

Kalim: And hey, that sugar cube race thing that Deuce came up with sure was fun. We should all do it someday!

Deuce: I'm up for it. Though, I might just sweep all of you.

Jack: Yeah, right. I'll be the one to win it next time.

Riddle: I've grasped the concept after watching Deuce. If I participate, I won't stand to lose, either.

Deuce: You too, Housewarden…!? But, fine. Doesn't matter who I go up against, I'll never lose!

Requested by @farfalla049 and @skibidibabygirl.

[stanislaw-jerzy-let-s]

I kind of think that the whole conversation about caring vs not caring about foreign policy got mixed up with a conversation about cultural imperialism in a way that isn’t very helpful.

I think a couple of separate opinions can coexist:

- Caring about foreign policy seems to me correlated to how much you perceive a given country as a threat and how powerful you think you are. As a person from Eastern Europe (or central, whatever, I don’t care very much) yes, I do perceive Russia as a threat and I do deeply identify with the situation that Ukrainians face. But I do not pretend that it makes the citizens of my country uniquely more altruistic towards other smaller countries. I think in politics the way you frame a given issue to the voters matters a lot, and being a direct neighbour of Russia kind of changes your point of view? But even culturally Germany would have a different view of Russia, because of complex historical reasons (former DDR citizens feeling discriminated against in their own country among others, the growing pro-Russian sentiment because of that, etc etc).

(The only exceptionary behaviour in that regard I can think of is that one time that a group of Polish pro-Napoleonic soldiers decided they will rather move to the side of the Haitians, which was very cool and rad of them)

- that being said, I do think that the US culture is kind of imperialist, but more for structural reasons. Like, all of these books, tv shows etc that we consume are made largely in the US for a US audience, the most important film awards in the world are the Oscars which are ostensibly US centric, even the formulas that Netflix shows made in other countries use often feel deeply American, it just goes through the beats and keywords that matter to the US citizens. There is even a joke about "watching foreign movies" meaning you’re pretentious, right? Stories and points of view and culture of most other countries just don’t seem attractive, but a thing you do to seem intellectual. I think to an extent it works this way around the world anyway; but the rest of the world has their own culture AND American culture, always.

It’s like this one Olga Tokarczuk quote:

"There are countries out there where people speak English. But not like us - we have our own languages hidden in our carry-on luggage, in our cosmetics bags, only ever using English when we travel, and then only in foreign countries, to foreign people. It's hard to imagine, but English is the real language! Oftentimes their only language. They don't have anything to fall back on or to turn to in moments of doubt. How lost they must feel in the world, where all instructions, all the lurics of all the stupidest possible songs, all the menus, all the excruciating pamphlets and brochures - even the buttons in the lift! - are in their private language. They may be understood by anuone at any moment, whenever they open their mouths. They must have to write things down in special codes. Wherever they are, people have unlimited access to them - they are accessible to everyone and everything! I heard there are plans in the works to get them some little language of their own, one of those dead ones no one else is using anyway, just so that for once they can have something just for them"

I don’t mean to insult btw, I will never know English in the same way, but when I travel I do feel like Olga sometimes.

- I do disagree about going through 18 countries being the same as a trip across US though. Not that US is a cultural monolith or is boring or anything like that. But before going to Hungary, for example, I knew very little about it, and it has a whole separate Hungarian cultural universe I could discover. IDK, travelling can be a very dense experience if done well.

[notablenotions]

The Masks of Nobility- Chapter 2

Hans returned to his chambers, the richly adorned space a far cry from Henry's humble lodgings. He made a mental note—when his uncle finally handed him full control, Henry’s quarters would be moved next to his and furnished just as lavishly. And if anyone questioned it—his soon-to-be wife, for instance—he would simply point to Henry’s importance as his personal guard. Yes, that would do.

Assuming, of course, that his uncle kept his promise. After this blasted wedding.

Hans groaned, stretching his back. Honestly, Henry needed a proper bed if he was going to insist they keep spending their nights in that hovel of his.

Hans grimaced at himself. Spending their nights? Making love? Christ, he sounded like some moon-eyed, virginal maid. But what else could he call it?

It wasn’t the usual lust-fueled, often alcohol-hazed fucking he had once indulged in. Oh, there was lust, no doubt. More than he had ever known. But it was something else, something deeper, something that had ruined him for anything else. Since Henry, he had no desire for wenches. Even self-pleasure felt hollow.

It was a bond. A connection.

A belonging.

Hans pinched the bridge of his nose. Christ, Henry, what have you done to me?

What kind of nobleman spent the hours before his wedding thinking about the man he loved? About the ache in his body—a damn pleasurable ache, at that—and the fact that he was still sure he carried Henry’s spend from last night?

Last night.

They had been desperate. Grief-ridden, knowing what was coming. They had clung to each other, over and over, as if proving their devotion through the way their bodies fit together would somehow change fate. Now, Hans was expected to walk the aisle like a toad—his entire body aching, and in ways that would make even the bawdiest tavern wench blush.

Was that Henry’s plan? To send him to the altar thoroughly wrecked?

No. He doubted Henry would be that cruel. Or that calculating.

---

The bell rang.

Hans exhaled. It sounded like Talmberg.

Perhaps, in a way, it was.

He stared out the window of the great hall, watching the castle staff scurry about like bees in a hive. Anything to distract from the fact that his life was about to change in a way he had no control over.

"Milord."

Henry’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. Steady. Soothing. The one thing that had ever truly calmed him.

Hans turned, meeting Henry’s gaze. To an outsider, Henry’s concern would appear no more than a dutiful guard checking on his charge. But Hans could see past the mask.

He could see the same grief. The same longing.

He could see the wish, however impossible, that the marriage waiting for him today was theirs.

"Are you well, milord?"

Hans smiled, warm despite himself. Henry was always concerned the day after he took Hans, fussing like a mother hen, bringing him gifts—salves, oils, even the occasional ridiculous trinket to make him laugh. Hans wished he could say he was just as thoughtful when he took Henry, but... well, that wasn’t exactly his nature. He tried.

This morning, there had been no time for Henry’s usual rituals of care, and Hans could tell it put him on edge.

Hans leaned back, taking a slow sip of wine before flashing Henry a wolfish grin.

"Of course, Henry. How could I not be well? Today is my wedding day!"

He spoke loudly enough for the whole room to hear, ensuring his words dripped with sarcasm.

Radzig, ever the diplomat, clapped Henry on the shoulder with forced camaraderie, his voice booming, "Son, you don’t understand it yet, but Sir Hans is simply struggling with wedding jitters!"

The gathered nobles chuckled, their conversation shifting back to their own affairs, the tension easing. Hans’ soon-to-be in-laws even seemed pleased by the explanation.

Hans frowned.

"Oh, Sir Radzig, I wasn’t aware you were an expert in such matters," he said, voice dripping with mock civility. "After all, despite your noble status, you’ve never married, have you?"

Radzig’s jaw tightened. Hans smirked, determined to twist the knife.

"Or did you avoid it due to...?"

His gaze flickered toward Henry.

Radzig’s reaction was immediate. He hissed under his breath—an uncharacteristic slip in his usually measured demeanor. "Don’t you dare talk of her, you insolent—"

Before the confrontation could escalate, Hanush’s voice thundered through the hall.

"It’s time."

Hans turned back to the window, exhaling.

Yes.

Time to walk toward his execution.

---

Hans glanced sideways, catching sight of Henry pausing mid-step, his gaze flickering toward the window as if trying to steady himself. A moment’s hesitation. A battle to keep his emotions in check.

Hans loathed it. Loathed that no matter how hopelessly, how fiercely, how utterly he loved Henry—how their devotion was etched into the marrow of his bones—he could not save him from this.

Once again, he failed him.

Once again, Hans proved himself to be the lesser of the two, despite his noble lineage. Not that he would ever admit such a thing aloud.

Henry held back, remaining still as the other nobles moved past him, escorting Hans forward. Hans turned one last time, hoping—praying—Henry would not leave him behind.

That was when he saw Radzig, standing beside Henry, a steadying arm wrapped around him, the kind of touch a father might offer a grieving daughter before she was sent off to a marriage she did not want.

Hans nearly stopped in his tracks.

Did Radzig know?

The man was astute—Hans had always known that. Hard to read. Calculating. Perhaps he mistook Henry’s grief for that of a loyal friend.

Under normal circumstances, Hans would be preoccupied with how this revelation could affect him. But right now, all he felt was relief.

Henry had someone.More than that, Radzig was comforting him. Not with the formal, restrained caution Hans had observed in the past, but openly, unguarded.

For all that Radzig had treated Henry as a son, his gestures toward him had always been careful, measured. As if Henry might disappear should he overstep. As if he were afraid to claim him fully.

Hans understood that feeling all too well.

---

Hans tore his gaze away heading to the courtyard, surprised to see that servants were still fussing over the flowers. They should have been set by now. He turned to Old Mags, one of the longest-serving maids.

"What happened? Why are they still arranging them?"

Mags huffed, exasperated.

"They were done, milord. Hanush requested flowers that symbolized love, but the little lady demanded they be changed. Broke down in tears, she did. Said they were her late mother’s favorites. She insisted on daisies, forget-me-nots, white carnations, and yellow roses. Heavens, it’s been a nightmare!"

Hans frowned. Jikta had not struck him as highly strung during their brief conversation. But the meaning of those flowers was clear enough.

The symbols of passion and romantic love were gone, replaced with flowers representing friendship, family, and unspoken devotion.

A message. Henry had described her as a genius perhaps he was right. Surely, she understood the language of flowers.

Surely, this was not coincidence.

---

Once everything was in place, the nobles took their positions.

Hans turned back one last time, his eyes finding Henry's.

An unspoken vow passed between them. A silent promise that had been whispered countless times in the dark, when they were tangled in the secrecy of their love.

That his vows belonged to him and him alone.

Even if Jikta stood before him.

Radzig patted Henry’s arm, then looked to Hans. A silent assurance. I have him.

Hans fidgeted, adjusting his cuffs.

Hanush leaned in, speaking in a hushed whisper. "Do not shame me. Treat her well—she has wealth, connections, and looks. I couldn't have done better for you."

Hans nearly scoffed. If Hanush weren’t such a pragmatist, he might have mistaken the words for genuine emotion.

Then, in a softer voice—softer than Hans had ever heard from him—Hanush added, "Your father would be proud. I know I am."

Hans stiffened.

He turned away, swallowing hard.

Feelings had never come easily to either of them.

The music began to play.

-----

She entered, arm in arm with her father.

Her dress was of the finest white fabric, woven with silver thread that shimmered with each step. Her golden hair was unbound, cascading past her chest, adorned with delicate flowers. A sheer veil fell over her face, embroidered with fine lace, giving her an almost ethereal glow.

She was small, delicate, breakable.

She looked otherworldly.

Her pale skin, her clear blue eyes, her stillness—she could have been a saint stepping down from a cathedral’s stained-glass window.

She was beautiful.

Hans thought, distantly, that if he had not already given himself to Henry, he might have been able to enjoy her beauty.

Then he looked closer.

Her expression was serene, poised, carefully crafted. But the fear in her eyes was unmistakable.

She wore a mask.

Just like him.

Hans took a slow breath, steadying himself as the priest beckoned him forward.

The world felt distant, muted, the weight of expectation pressing on his shoulders like a noose. The nobles gathered, watching. Hanush stood beside him, proud. Jikta before him, composed. Henry just behind, unseen but not unfelt.

Always there.

Hans clenched his jaw, forcing himself to meet Jikta’s gaze. But in his mind, in his heart, in his soul—his vows were for another.

And so, he began.

---

"I swear before God and all gathered here that I shall stand by your side, in good fortune and ill, in joy and sorrow, until my last breath."

I stood by you when you had nothing, and I will stand by you still. Let them take my name, my house, my freedom—but never my heart. That is yours, Henry. Until my last breath.

---

"I vow to honor you, to protect you, to uphold your name as I would my own."

I have fought for you. I would die for you. And if I cannot protect you from this—then let me at least swear before God that I am yours still.

---

"You are my equal in all things, and though we may walk separate paths, they shall ever lead us home."

No matter where I go, no matter what title they force upon me, my road will always lead back to you. You are my home, Henry. You always have been.

---

Hans swallowed, his voice growing thick. He saw Henry shift slightly in the corner of his vision, but he did not dare look.

Instead, he pressed forward.

---

"As Lancelot was bound to Galehaut, so too am I bound to you. Without end, without condition, without regret."

The poets do not write of their kind of love, but I know it. I live it. I know what it is to give my soul to another, to let my heart be held in hands that could crush it, yet knowing they never would. I know what it is to be seen, truly seen, and loved for it still. And I know what it is to lose it. To watch it slip away, not through choice, but through duty. Just as Lancelot lost Galehaut.

I am bound to you, Henry. This vow is yours. No matter what they say, no matter the lies written in ink and spoken before witnesses—you and I know the truth.

---

Hans’ hands trembled slightly as he finished, his voice unwavering but his body betraying the war within him.

The priest turned to Jikta she spoke her vows with grace, steady and practiced, yet Hans saw it—the same forced certainty, the same unspoken sorrow that laced his own words it was done.

A marriage sealed.

A vow unbroken.

Hans finally dared to glance at Henry.

His eyes were downcast, jaw tight, hands clenched into fists. But Hans could see it. The slightest tremble in his breath. The storm raging beneath the surface.

He knows.

He heard me.

And that, at least, was enough.

---

Jikta couldn’t help but wonder how many other grooms used their wedding vows as a veiled declaration of undying love to their bodyguards.

[nevereclipse]

Daddy

Pairing: Tim Bradford x exwife!fbi!reader

Word count: 1k

Genre: angst

Requested: yes, here

Summary: After being called in to help on a manhunt, Tim's ex-wife has to drop off their son Oliver to Tim.

Warnings: mentions of separation & divorce, allusions to serial killers.

A/N: I hope this is kind of what you wanted? I struggled with this a bit!

---

Tim was well and truly ready to go home. It’d been a colossal day – a serial killer had crossed over from Nevada and, for some reason, had thought it LA would be the best place to hide. Meaning Tim had spent his entire day manhunting for a man who had yet to be found. The FBI had mobilized, and was set to be arriving any minute, and Tim really, really wanted to go home. There was a game on he didn’t want to miss, and honestly, his joints weren’t what they used to be, so he was ready to spend some well-deserved time on a sofa, alone, preferably with an ice-cold beer. He’d even shut his phone off completely, a rare occurrence, so that no one could disturb his piece. Not even Lopez or Chen.

Your day, on the other hand, was only just beginning. You’d been called into Mid-Wilshire to help with the manhunt for Seamus Connery at midday, but you hadn’t managed to arrive until almost five. Your six year old, Oliver, had been stubbornly refusing to leave the house, and you were admittedly hesitant to bring him into a room full of cops without confirmation that your husband would be able to take him for a night that wasn’t scheduled.

You’d tried to avoid going to Tim, of course. After your divorce was finalised things had been… messy. Not hateful, but messy. You’d fallen apart the same way you’d fallen in love: quickly and all-consumingly. You weren’t even divorced properly yet, but you’d moved away from Mid-Wilshire to Hollywood, and the thought of seeing Tim… ow. But your regular sitter hadn’t been available, and frankly, you didn’t know how long you’d been in Mid-Wilshire tracking Connery for.

So here you were.

You walked into the station, Oliver on your hip, searching for Tim before you had to brief the night shift about how they were proceeding. You scanned the room, but Tim was nowhere to be seen.

“Am I gonna... to stay with Daddy?” Oliver asked, looking up at you with the blue eyes that where entirely his fathers.

“Yeah, baby, you’re going to stay with your Daddy for tonight.” You replied, brushing a hand over his head. You still couldn’t find Tim.

“Excuse me,” you said, catching a dark-haired brunette woman by the arm. You smiled to yourself slightly at the graphicness of her tee. Clearly a detective. “Do you know where I can find Tim Bradford?”

The woman glanced at you appraisingly. “Depends, who are you?”

You considered telling her the truth for a moment, but you didn’t know how much Tim had told his coworkers about you, and… well, he wasn’t exactly the type to mix his personal and work life. So you settled on, “Agent L/N, FBI. I need to speak with him.”

The detective squinted briefly, but nodded, before turning and yelling across the open room, “Oi, Bradford! There’s an FBI agent here for you!”

Tim turned around, and your eyes found each other immediately. Even six months after the divorce, you were still stunned by him every time you saw him. As was your son, it seemed, because he immediately pushed his way out of your arms and ran towards his father.

“Daddy!” he yelled, stumbling over his tiny feet as he ran to Tim. He reached Tim quickly, and despite the pain, your heart fluttered slightly at the sight of Tim hugging his son.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, picking Oliver up and walking warily towards you. You weren’t supposed to drop Oliver off for another three days. “What’re you doing here?”

“Mummy… uh… Mummy…” Your son frowned and looked at you, evidently unsure what the reason for your impromptu trip was.

You smiled softly and addressed your answer more to Oliver than Tim. “Mommy has to help out with finding a really important person.”

Recognition flared in Tim’s eyes, “You’re here for Connery?”

You nodded, “I’m your FBI liaison.”

Tim laughed slightly. Not in a judgemental way, but in a way that screamed ‘what are the chances I’ll be working directly with my ex-but-not-really-ex-wife for the immediate future.’ You couldn’t help but echo the sentiment.

“Can you take Oliver tonight? I know it’s not your day, but I don’t… know how long I’ll be needed here for.” You gnawed at the flesh inside your mouth, hating having to ask Tim for anything anymore.

But of course, he just nodded. “Of course.” Tim’s eyes lingered on your face for a moment, but he quickly broke away to address Oliver, “What do you say, bud? You want to stay with Daddy tonight?”

Words couldn’t express your son’s joy, nor the look of pure shock on the detective’s face as she stared between you and Tim. There was another girl, younger, in a patrol uniform next to her. Both had dropped jaw and wide eyes. Tim ushered you away from them, and the feel of his hand on your shoulder seemed to burn through your clothes.

“Listen.” Tim paused, visibly hesitant. “Do you have somewhere to stay?”

You shook your head, “I’ll find a motel somewhere. I’ll probably be spending most of my time at the station.”

Tim frowned, “You should stay with me. I know it’s…” He fumbled for a word, settling on, “awkward, but…”

You actually scoffed. “No, Tim. I… no. That’s not going to happen.” You knew he meant well, but you could barely fight the urge to laugh in his face. Sure, a big part of you that you tried your best to ignore still loved him, but you were also bitter. Bitter at how quickly the softness between you two had faded, how quickly everything had fallen apart. You’d been so good together, and now… you could barely look him in the eye.

Still, for your son’s sake, you put on a slight smile and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Tim,” before focusing on your child.

You didn’t wait to hear Tim’s reply.

[chaaistained]

hi! this may be a dumb question but i’m struggling w this so much, and deep down i know it’s because i don’t believe in myself enough?? so, ive been trying to shift for a while now, but it’s like deep down i just know i won’t make it: for example: when i go to sleep, intending to attempt to shift when i have school (in my cr) the next day, i tell myself ‘if you really believe you’re gonna shift, you won’t set the alarm for school’ but the thing is, deep down i know that i will wake up for school, and if i don’t set my alarm i’ll miss my bus. this keeps happening to me and idk what to do. same thing with chores or my assignments or studying for a test. i think stuff like: ‘why studying in my cr? im gonna shift tonight anyway, right? i won’t have to take that test tomorrow‘ but i never convince myself, and i just know that i will wake up here. this is really holding me back

i’ll let you in on a little secret .. i do the exact same thing

and guess what? i’ve shifted !!

so, darling, the first thing you need to know is that this is NOT a dumb question !! it’s a very valid question, you’re not alone in this feeling

my personal hack or trick or wtv, when it comes to combatting this feeling, is flipping the narrative

you said that you hesitate in setting an alarm? you feel as if going through with it means that you’re subconsciously affirming that you can’t shift

FALSE

what you’re actually doing is prepping your cr-self to live their life while you get to live yours

think abt it, you wake up in your dr and your dr-self has already completed the homework due for your next class, or they’ve meal prepped for the week, or they’ve booked that appointment that you need.

your dr-self did it for themselves but, unknowingly, they also did it for YOU, bcs YOU’RE SHIFTING YOUR CONSCIOUSNESS INTO THAT LIFE — YOUR LIFE

you live a billion different lives, an infinite number of lives, there are alternate reality versions of you that you don’t even know exist

so yes, set that alarm, study for that class, finish that homework, do it for yourself — but also do it for the self that will live THIS life while you’ve shifted to live the life YOU DESIRE

that’s all you’re doing, the amazing and caring and considerate person you are, you’ve helped your cr-self with their life and you can let go, satisfied that you’ve done a little smth to make their life easier!!

i hope this helped darling xx