#bash and mary <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[quillandrapier]

It's september which means it's time to watch the greatest show of all time

[raziiyah]

that's a good question! maybe randall doesn't have a plan yet; johnny found him immediately after he got banished so he basically went from working for waternoose to working for johnny in mere minutes, so i feel like he'll first be stunned that he's actually free. sure he's a wanted man, but for once, he isn't working for anyone. he can do whatever he wants, unbound to any rules or bosses

randall was able to break himself out of jail, but he's certainly not selfless and i don't think he'd risk his freedom to go back for johnny or waternoose. maybe he'll find a new ally, either some new character or a tWiSt VilLiAn, but i really just want the writers to make him have to work for himself by himself. if anyone maybe randall would manipulate and recruit joy and it'll be revealed that she couldn't turn down the offer. she's a talented scarer and has the same competitive spirit, and probably prefers scream over laughter. and maybe randall offers that if she helps him get back at sulley, he'll help her get back at tylor. and they're both reptile-like monsters so maybe randall was an inspiration to her when he was a scarer. but it's just an idea i had and i honestly don't think they'd do that, nor do i want them too, i want to see randall try to achieve his goal by himself

part of me wasn't even sure what they would do with tylor and val in season 3 because their story seemed complete at the end of season 2. but if that means the show will shift more attention to mike, sulley and randall i am all for it. we'll probably still see a lot of the story from tylor and mift's perspective though

randall's invisibility powers are op as hell so even though the whole city is looking out for him, it'll be difficult for him to be caught. something i thought of is with randall having utilized doors to get back and forth from mi to fear co in season 2, and with johnny knowing where randall was when he saved him and somehow having an exact copy of that door (me utilizing that plot hole into this plot haha) maybe randall will some aquired knowlege on door tech to travel back and forth from the monster and human world.

i feel like randall actually never actually getting out and exploring human world was quite diappointing because all the ideas people thought of with how he'd react to things and survive and such were basically made null. so maybe this could provide another chance for the writers to play with that concept. maybe they'll even rehash some ideas from the canceled mi sequel lost in scaradise

with randall being a criminal, there's basically no way he can legally become the scare record holder, so ultimately, his main goal right now is probably to terrorize mike and sulley. so perhaps he'll sneak into mi again and find a way to access boo's door, or use whatever technology johnny used to make a copy of her door to find and kidnap her. this would mess with sulley and mike big time, and with boo being used as leverage as a hostage, mike, sulley, roz, duncan, the cda, etc. wouldn't want to risk doing anything against randall's wishes in fear for her safety

maybe somewhere randall will try to manipulate tylor, which won't work of course, and he'll joke around being like "eh it was worth a shot" i also want to see him interact with mike and sulley of course, and he better GO OFF. perhaps the show writers will also pull something unexpected, like when it was revealed that chet was working for the roz or roger being waternoose's son. like randall got johnny arrested on purpose or has been working with some unexpected character or some random shit

steve buscemi can't be cheap so i don't know how major of a role randall will actually get. but i really hope they do something cool and interesting while still being in character, and bring back more of the nastiness that made him such a good villain in mi. as for the ending, idk, i feel like people are pretty divided on randall getting a redemption or not. i've said this before, but i feel like randall's got a long way to go for redemption, but i'm not completely opposed to if maw handles it in a believable creative way. i just don't really want him to be banished again because it'll just feel so repetitive. and please do not kill him off (i'll be traumatized)

Randall in Season 3

The longer I think about it, the more I struggle to think what the fuck is Randall actually going to do in Season 3?

He's got nothing left, everyone knows he's on the loose, his allies are both still in jail, the entirety of Monstropolis is against him, and Roz, Duncan and the CDA are trying to hunt him down

It's literally him against the world

So Like.... What even is the actual game plan here?

I can't see any conceivable way how Randall can be used as the Big Bad of Season 3 in this particular state

Only thing I can see Randall doing now is going into hiding for the majority of the season and like maybe somehow find a new ally who can help him come up with some new evil plan?

But idk I'm not a writer

[thaoworra]

The Science Fiction and Fantasy Poetry Association recently released the poems that made it to the finalist stage for consideration for the 2024 Rhysling Awards for Short and Long Speculative Poems of the year. Congratulations to all of the nominees! This will be the 46th year these awards have been conferred!

Short Poems (50 finalists)

Attn: Prime Real Estate Opportunity!, Emily Ruth Verona, Under Her Eye: A Women in Horror Poetry Collection Volume II

The Beauty of Monsters, Angela Liu, Small Wonders 1

The Blight of Kezia, Patricia Gomes, HWA Poetry Showcase X

The Day We All Died, A Little, Lisa Timpf, Radon 5

Deadweight, Jack Cooper, Propel 7

Dear Mars, Susan L. Lin, The Sprawl Mag 1.2

Dispatches from the Dragon's Den, Mary Soon Lee, Star*Line 46.2

Dr. Jekyll, West Ambrose, Thin Veil Press December

First Eclipse: Chang-O and the Jade Hare, Emily Jiang, Uncanny 53

Five of Cups Considers Forgiveness, Ali Trotta, The Deadlands 31

Gods of the Garden, Steven Withrow, Spectral Realms 19

The Goth Girls' Gun Gang, Marisca Pichette, The Dread Machine 3.2

Guiding Star, Tim Jones, Remains to be Told: Dark Tales of Aotearoa, ed. Lee Murray (Clan Destine Press)

Hallucinations Gifted to Me by Heatstroke, Morgan L. Ventura, Banshee 15

hemiplegic migraine as willing human sacrifice, Ennis Rook Bashe, Eternal Haunted Summer Winter Solstice

Hi! I am your Cortical Update!, Mahaila Smith, Star*Line 46.3

How to Make the Animal Perfect?, Linda D. Addison, Weird Tales 100

I Dreamt They Cast a Trans Girl to Give Birth to the Demon, Jennessa Hester, HAD October

Invasive, Marcie Lynn Tentchoff, Polar Starlight 9

kan-da-ka, Nadaa Hussein, Apparition Lit 23

Language as a Form of Breath, Angel Leal, Apparition Lit October

The Lantern of September, Scott Couturier, Spectral Realms 19

Let Us Dream, Myna Chang, Small Wonders 3

The Magician's Foundling, Angel Leal, Heartlines Spec 2

The Man with the Stone Flute, Joshua St. Claire, Abyss & Apex 87

Mass-Market Affair, Casey Aimer, Star*Line 46.4

Mom's Surprise, Francis W. Alexander, Tales from the Moonlit Path June

A Murder of Crows, Alicia Hilton, Ice Queen 11

No One Now Remembers, Geoffrey Landis, Fantasy and Science Fiction Nov./Dec.

orion conquers the sky, Maria Zoccula, On Spec 33.2

Pines in the Wind, Karen Greenbaum-Maya, The Beautiful Leaves (Bamboo Dart Press)

The Poet Responds to an Invitation from the AI on the Moon, T.D. Walker, Radon Journal 5

A Prayer for the Surviving, Marisca Pichette, Haven Speculative 9

Pre-Nuptial, F. J. Bergmann, The Vampiricon (Mind's Eye Publications)

The Problem of Pain, Anna Cates, Eye on the Telescope 49

The Return of the Sauceress, F. J. Bergmann, The Flying Saucer Poetry Review February

Sea Change, David C. Kopaska-Merkel and Ann K. Schwader, Scifaikuest May

Seed of Power, Linda D. Addison, The Book of Witches ed. Jonathan Strahan (Harper Collins)

Sleeping Beauties, Carina Bissett, HWA Poetry Showcase X

Solar Punks, J. D. Harlock, The Dread Machine 3.1

Song of the Last Hour, Samuel A. Betiku, The Deadlands 22

Sphinx, Mary Soon Lee, Asimov's September/October

Storm Watchers (a drabbun), Terrie Leigh Relf, Space & Time

Sunflower Astronaut, Charlie Espinosa, Strange Horizons July

Three Hearts as One, G. O. Clark, Asimov's May/June

Troy, Carolyn Clink, Polar Starlight 12

Twenty-Fifth Wedding Anniversary, John Grey, Medusa's Kitchen September

Under World, Jacqueline West, Carmina Magazine September

Walking in the Starry World, John Philip Johnson, Orion's Belt May

Whispers in Ink, Angela Yuriko Smith, Whispers from Beyond (Crystal Lake Publishing)

Long Poems (25 finalists)

Archivist of a Lost World, Gerri Leen, Eccentric Orbits 4

As the witch burns, Marisca Pichette, Fantasy 87

Brigid the Poet, Adele Gardner, Eternal Haunted Summer Summer Solstice

Coding a Demi-griot (An Olivian Measure), Armoni “Monihymn” Boone, Fiyah 26

Cradling Fish, Laura Ma, Strange Horizons May

Dream Visions, Melissa Ridley Elmes, Eccentric Orbits 4

Eight Dwarfs on Planet X, Avra Margariti, Radon Journal 3

The Giants of Kandahar, Anna Cates, Abyss & Apex 88

How to Haunt a Northern Lake, Lora Gray, Uncanny 55

Impostor Syndrome, Robert Borski, Dreams and Nightmares 124

The Incessant Rain, Rhiannon Owens, Evermore 3

Interrogation About A Monster During Sleep Paralysis, Angela Liu, Strange Horizons November

Little Brown Changeling, Lauren Scharhag, Aphelion 283

A Mere Million Miles from Earth, John C. Mannone, Altered Reality April

Pilot, Akua Lezli Hope, Black Joy Unbound eds. Stephanie Andrea Allen & Lauren Cherelle (BLF Press)

Protocol, Jamie Simpher, Small Wonders 5

Sleep Dragon, Herb Kauderer, The Book of Sleep (Written Image Press)

Slow Dreaming, Herb Kauderer, The Book of Sleep (Written Image Press)

St. Sebastian Goes To Confession, West Ambrose, Mouthfeel 1

Value Measure, Joseph Halden and Rhonda Parrish, Dreams and Nightmares 125

A Weather of My Own Making, Nnadi Samuel, Silver Blade 56

Welcoming the New Girl, Beth Cato, Penumbric October

What You Find at the Center, Elizabeth R McClellan, Haven Spec Magazine 12

The Witch Makes Her To-Do List, Theodora Goss, Uncanny 50

The Year It Changed, David C. Kopaska-Merkel, Star*Line 46.4

Voting for the Rhysling Award begins July 1; a link to the ballot will be sent with the Rhysling Anthology, as well as with the July issue of Star*Line. More information on the Rhysling Award can be found here.

[eyesxxyou]

Backstage Show Pt.2

★🎸 {} .. hobie brown x groupie!reader

rating. m

word count. 3k

synopsis. after a show, you and hobie fine yourself an an alley for a little fun. little do you know, you have an audience

or

hobie fucks you in an alley in front of paparazzi

🍒・．❕warnings. exhibitionalism (sex in backalley of venue), p in v sex, unprotected sex not advised, clothed sex, anal fingering (f receiving), ass eating, fingering, public sex, degradation, little bit of a size kink, hobie has a bit of a god) superiority complex, y/n is a group who'd do anything for her idol, bit of a power dynamic fr, this is a bit toxic but gets sweet at the end y'all so hold on

backstage show pt.1 | backstage show pt.3

If you told yourself a couple of months ago that you’d be the Hobie Brown’s fuck buddy, following him around while he tours, always there with open arms, open legs, and an open mouth, you would have called yourself delusional and admitted yourself into a mental hospital. But here you were, in the backstage VIP section watching the show from the best seats in the venue.

You had no idea why Hobie’s kept you around for this long. Compared to others, in your own opinion, you weren’t all that unremarkable. You were pretty, but not the prettiest, good at sex but not the best. But you could only truly narrow it down to your devotion to him. You worshiped him like a god, kissed the very ground he walked on. Maybe he liked the attention, the way he could always be sure that you’d do absolutely anything he asked of you.

You met up with him at every one of his shows, both before and after and depending on whether you fucking him before or after the show (usually before so he could steal your panties and keep them in his pocket while on stage as a "good luck token"), you'd hang out with him and his bandmates, smoking pot and throwing back shots while they recall stories of their earlier days on the road, just the 4 of them and their old van.

His bandmates took you in as an unofficial member of the band without so much as a hitch. A band member they all took turns flirting with but a member nonetheless.

After the show, The Mary Janes came backstage and you rushed to Hobie to praise him over his performance. You wrapped your arms around his neck and his hands came to support you by grasping your waist. He kissed you feverishly, the rush and exhilaration of the concert still coursing through his veins and screaming to get out in any way possible. The way his tongue stroked yours told you neither of you would get far before his cock would be bullying its way inside your greedy pussy.

“You did so good.” You murmured against his thick lips, your tongue pressed against his lip piercing. “You looked so sexy.” Hobie nipped at your bottom lip and set you down. “I would’ve gone betta if I saw tha’ pretty face of yas out in the crowd.” It it was decided then that there would be no watching from backstage from you, you’d sit at the front of the crowd because Hobie couldn’t perform his very best without seeing his girl.

“Fuck the rest of us then.” Eli, the drummer, muttered snarkily under his breath as a joke. You turned around to look at him in his heterochromatic eyes and slapped his chest as he towered over you. “Not fucking you, am I? I can only handle one pretty face at a time.”

Another band member, Cass, with his locs up in a ponytail and fiddling with his guitar, hummed. “Ya could be though.” They often made jokes about Hobie letting them share you and each time he had the same response. “I don’ like to share wha’s mine.” He’ll eat in front of them but they’ll never get any of the food.

Hobie tapped your ass in the booty shorts you were wearing. “You ready to head out, luv? We gotta go through the back or one of us is gonna get trampled.” He grabbed you by the waist with a possessiveness that told his mate to back off or someone’s head is getting bashed in with a guitar and pulled you into him. He didn’t even have to ask, you were willing to go whenever he was, wherever he was. “Yeah, let’s go.”

The two of you said your goodbyes to his bandmates and made your way through thebackstage to get to the back exit. Hobie kept teasing you along the way, walking with his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of the slutty little shorts you had on, his teeth nipping at the soft, supple flesh of your neck, leaving small bruises where his teeth violated your innocence.

Once you two breached out of the door, Hobie spun you around and pressed you up against the heavily graffitied wall with his lips on yours and his tongue in your mouth, coaxing moans from you which he swallowed as if it were the only sustenance in the world.

“Ma pretty girl.” He cooed into your mouth as he nipped at your tongue . “Always righ’ there fa me. Always down fa anytin’.” His fingers fiddled with the button to your shorts for a moment before undoing them and pulling the useless piece of fabric down just enough to gain access to your pussy. “‘M gonna fuck you righ’ here in this alley, all’em fans just down the way. Anyone can see us. And you’re gonna let me, aren’t ya?”

You nod feverishly, looking up at him as you tucked your bottom lip between your teeth. You could hear people walking by, chanting Hobie’s name in hopes that it might coax him to come out and greet them. Anyone one of them could walk right by and see him fucking you stupid and you didn’t care. Not as long as you were the one he was fucking.

“Turn aroun’.” He grabbed you and forced you to turn around. You braced yourself against the wall with your hands, your ass perked out and your back arched, revealing your pussy and asshole to him to use as he pleased through a brand new set of nylon stockings.

Hobie slapped your ass hard, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing off the walls loudly. He wanted to see how much noise he could get away with before someone noticed, not caring if anyone rounded the corner and saw the two of you fucking under the flickering light of the alley. He wanted someone to see your depravity, the way you were so irrationally dedicated to him, the way you’d do anything for him.

He brute forced his way through your stocking, tearing a hole big enough for him to get to your pussy. “No panties? Wha’ a bad girl.” He spanked you again and you yelped at the sting of it, his hand undoubtedly left a print against your ass.

Hobie got down on his knees in behind you, his large, calloused, rough hands spreading your ass to further expose your delicacies. Your pussy was slick with your arousal, no need for preparation. "So wet already, baby. My performance go' you all hot and bothered, then?" His voice was warm against your core and you whined and whimpered with choking words of something of agreement. His performance always got you hot and bothered. There was something both so chaotic yet sensual about the show he put on. If anyone could give Hobie anything, they'd say he certainly had stage presence.

Hobie coaxed his fingers between the warmth of your cunt before easing a single long, slender finger into you. Your silky walls clamped down around the digit in desperation for any stimulation. "Hobie~" you sang his praises as he fucked his finger in and out of you. He wish he had something to record this so he could put it into a song but alas, something like that would have to wait.

Then he added another finger, curling his fingers against your silken walls. "'m pretty girl." He almost sang, fingering you nice and hard with his tongue and lips against your asshole, eating you out in a far different way than you ever expected. He ate your ass easily, languidly, all lips and tongue breaching the tight rim of your ass just a little. "Relax, babe, relax."

You listen to his command despite the anxiety of the crowd whose edges were slowly crawling it's way nearer to the alley as more people added themselves to the awaiting crowd. You took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and forced your body to relax a little for him. You loosenedd up in accordance, making it easier for Hobie to finger fuck you and sloppily make out with your second hole.

His fingers massaged that soft spot within you, his tongue on your ass sending soft jokes of pleasure to your core as he abused your spot mercilessly. He spat on you like you were nothing but an object of her pleasure, making it known that he was doing all this for him, not for you. Hobie paused a moment and pulled his face back, watching a glob of his saliva run down from your ass to your pussy before being pushed in by his fingers that splayed your pussy open in preparation for his much larger cock.

You whined for him, nails clawing at the concrete walls. "Keep going. I'm almost there. Please, Hobes." You needed it like you needed air in your lungs to breathe or you'd simply die without it.

Hobie scoffed at your plea for some semblance of kindness from him. "Desperate whore." He murmured and went right back to eating you. You were so close your legs trembled with the mere idea of cumming on his fingers and face and the more you thought about it, the closer it came to coming true until your walls were pulsating around his fingers and your ring of muscles clenched with the intensity of the orgasm that washed over you.

Your knees buckled into each other and you would have fallen down if not for you being braced against the wall. "Hobie…please fuck me. Please– I'll do anything, please." You wanted him to extend the kindness a human gives to another and fulfill your ask to the fullest degree.

You'd come to regret that.

You listened in anticipation as he stood back up onto his booted feet and undid the buckle to his belt. He unzipped his pants to let himself free from the restraints of his clothing. He was already so hard just at the sight of you splayed open for him without so much as a shred of dignity in sight. You pushed your ass out further until your checks framed his cock and you began rubbing yourself on him. “Please Hobie.” You whined softly, looking back down the alley to ensure the two of you weren’t seen.

The risk of it made your anxiety all the greater but the sexiness of the moment greater than even that. The risk made him harder and made you wetter.

“Tha’s i’. Dirty lil’ slut can’ help haself.” Hobie grasped your hips and forced you to keep going. He couldn’t help but rut his cock against your ass, slipping it in the hole he made so he could feel his skin against yours and the heat and slick of your pussy against his balls. He grunted into your ear, spitting lewd obscenities at you while nibbling at your lobe.

“Put it in fa me, luv. Since you wan' I'm so badly.”

You whimper softly and reach behind you to grasp him at the base of his cock. You stroked his length a bit, dragging a few moans out of him along with it before directing the tip of his cock towards your dripping cunt. You prepped him the way he always did himself, dragging the leaky head of his dick between your swollen pussy lips so that your shared juices intermingled against your clit.

Hobie slapped your ass once more and this time you cried out at the pain. “I said put it in, didn’ I?” You nod in compliance and quickly positioned the head of his cock against your entrance. You tried to guide him in by he was simply too big for you to do it on your own. “I– I can’t, Hobie. Plea— ahh!” He forced his cock into you with one solid, fluid thrust into your tight hole, forcing out something of a moan and a scream from you. You slapped your hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet, looking out down the alley once more.

Hobie didn’t seem to care not one bit as he held your hips still and fucked you nice and rough. He let out noise running parallel to huffs, growls, and groans. “Bes’ cunt ou’ there. This pussy gonna be the death of me.” There was something primal about the way he fucked you. There were no niceties, no pleasantries, no manners. Just rough fucking in the dark backalley of a venue he was just performing inside of. You weren't some girl he had to wine and dine before he could get into bed. You were just some slut he could convince to do anything. And it didn't even take much to convince you to let him fuck you in an alley.

He fucked you dumb, stupid, half brain-dead with your face pressed into the wall, lips parted and drooling while you moaned. He fucked you at an angle, ensuring that if someone did happen to come down there, they wouldn’t be able to see your face. Hobie towered over you, his body completely consuming yours while his hips fucked up into you, each thrust lifting your a little more off the ground until he was supporting your complete weight in his hands as your feet no long touched the wet, littered ground.

You let out muffled squeals and screams. He’s never fucked you like this, fucked you so animalistically. You should be scared all things considered but it only made you wetter, your pussy leaving a creamy ring around the base of his cock. “Shut up and take it.” He muttered, looking down at the way his cock split your hole open with each brutalizing thrust he delivered to your weeping pussy. Each stroke of his cock forcing you to accommodate his size, each thrust forcing your walls to memorize each groove, each vein, each stretch of him. He fucked you like you were his own personal sex toy and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it

His cock touched places that, before him, you never even knew existed. You could feel him bulge in your belly, you could feel him in your throat. You could feel him everywhere, that sweet, thick head of his just barely kissing your cervix, undoubtedly coating it in pre-cum.

“You wanna lemme try sometin’?”

“Anything.”

Satisfied with your answer, Hobie took one hand from your hips— still supporting your weight somehow— and spat on his fingers. You shivered as he placed them on your puckered asshole and spread his saliva across your second hole, prepping you, you realized. You had never done anything anal related before but you kept yourself clean down there just in case a moment like this arose. You were nervous however, as anyone would be if they were getting the shit fucked out of them in an alley with a slew of people just on the cusp of witnessing an actual crime.

“‘S jus’ a finga, okay? Jus’ ma thumb.” He assured you that he wouldn't be doing anything crazy. No here at least. He kept fucking you as he eased his thumb past the tight ring of muscles and immediately you moaned and shuddered as the feel of it intruding into your body. “Hobie…Hobie please.” It was all so much. You felt that you might simply pass out if he continued like this.

He fingered your asshole while fucking you, pressing and messaging the even tighter walls of your ass while your pussy greedily swallowed his cock with each of his thrusts. You were seeing white, crying out so loud that someone has had to hear you by now but you simply couldn’t care at this point. Hobie was fucking your too good for you to care, the rest of his fingers splayed across the small of your back as he uses his new grip on you to fuck you even harder.

This was the kind of fucking that made you revere him, worship him like the sex god he was. You kiss his feet if he wanted, lick his boots, let him degrate you, spit on you, use you as his own personal cum dumpster if he so chose because the orgasm ravishing your body right now was makinging you see white, your gaze lose focus, and your ears ring.

“Hobie, Hobie, Hobie!” You chanted his name as if calling upon a deity to help you, like a prayer on your lips to a god who wasn’t there and you just needed him to hear you. You came a second time, creaming all over his pretty dick, leaving the dark skin glistening in white from your cum.

You could hear Hobie come down from his own high, fucking cum into you with a low, gravelly groan into your ear. His final thrusts were spaced and rough as he emptied his balls into your pussy and once he was done he removed all appendages from you and quickly made you decent before someone could see you stuffed like a thanksgiving turkey.

You could feel his cum leaking out of your pussy as Hobie helped you out of the alley, tossing an arm over your shoulder and pulling you in close to protect you from the paparazzi’s intrusive photos. You thought about how later you were going to finger yourself again with his cum still inside you, hopefully able to get him on the phone to help you through it.

Later on that week, you saw a tabloid magazine about Hobie and smack dab as the front picture was you and Hobie in the alley fucking. You couldn’t see either of your faces but it was very clearly Hobie from his wild hair. In a panic, you called Hobie, babbling on and on about how you shouldn’t have done that and that you might lose your job.

“Is your face in the photo?”

“Well…no.”

“Then how will they know it’s you?” He made a good point. As long as no picture showed up with your face in it, you had nothing to worry about. You took a deep breath to calm yourself. “You’re right, sorry. Okay, I’ve gotta go but I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

“Of course, luv. Have a good night.”

[mischievousmoony]

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚎

𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟸 ⟡ 𝚓𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜' ��𝚒𝚛𝚕

⟢ james potter x fem!reader

⟢ summary: modern restaurant au; after training with james for a few weeks, people have started calling you his . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁1.3k

⟢ warnings/tags: coworker!james, coworker!marauders, slightly anxious!reader, not proofread

⟢ the new hire masterlist ⟡ main masterlist

note: i hate seafood but i keep putting it on my fictional restaurants menu ? kept this one pretty simple so i could get it out there <3

"Crab cakes, go." James says, eyes darting up from the menu he's holding to look at you from across the rickety staff room table.

You don't miss a beat, describing the dish as you would to a customer, "The crab cakes are one of our most popular appetizers. They're pan seared and served with sofrito escabeche, a zesty blend of onions, bell peppers, and tomatoes—so I highly recommend them if you're looking for something tangy—and they have a to die for berbere aioli drizzle."

"Tell me more about the berbere aioli. What is that?" James questions, playing the part of a curious customer.

"The berbere aioli is a spicy-chili sauce that I'd say is just shy of medium in terms of spice level. It complements the crab cakes really well, but you could always order it on the side if you're not too sure about it."

"That's my girl," James praises, "You're a quick learner, you know that?"

"I don't know about that," you protest, looking down at your hands that lay politely folded on the table in front of you. You try to mentally will yourself not to blush at James' approval.

"It's barely over a week since you started and you know this thing like the back of your hand," James argues, gently tossing the menu down as he leans back in his chair, "And there's so little time to sit and study here."

You have a funny look on your face when you meet James' eyes again, eliciting a gasp from him.

"You've been studying the menu outside of work, haven't you?" he squints, speaking in an accusatory tone.

"Shouldn't I?" you ask, and the fact that it's a genuine question has James clutching his chest over his heart.

"No! You never think about work unless you're getting paid!"

"How else am I supposed to learn this whole menu in a timely manner?" you cross your arms defensively.

"Who said anything about a timely manner, Love. I was weeks out of training before I had the whole thing down."

"Yeah, well you're more..." you trail off, trying to find the words.

"More what?" James is quick to sound defensive.

You put your hands up as a sign of innocence, "Just laid back. You're a go with the flow kind of guy. As opposed to me, who's more-"

James interjects, "Stuck in your head," nodding along without a doubt that that's what you were going to say.

You look at James, a bit of surprise and alarm swirling around in the pit of your stomach. He was spot on, but how could he possibly be? He barely knows you, after all.

"What?" James seems to sense your confusion, "I've noticed the turmoil in those eyes of yours. You're doing it right now."

You look bashful, so James graciously changes the subject.

"Whatever, just promise me you won't ever think about this place when you're off the clock again!"

"Promise," you agree, despite his request being impossible.

For whatever reason, your mind seems to always be on work. Not even in a stressed, overthinking way like you'd expect from yourself. It seemed to be little random tidbits from work infiltrating your mind throughout your days. Like sometimes, you randomly think of a joke James said once. Or you see something funny and want to show it to him. Or you think about how nice James is when you mess something up.

Okay, maybe they're not so random after all.

"What're you thinking about?" James interrupts your thoughts.

Just as you're about to start stammering through an excuse, Mary pops her head into the room.

"There you guys are!" she says, "I just sat you guys. Table six."

"Thanks, Mary. We'll be right there." James responds.

"I had Peter bring them some waters because I couldn't find you guys for a while—oh, he's back today by the way, did you know?" Mary asks, but doesn't stick around for James to answer, "I have to get back. Table six, guys!" Her voice echoes the reminder as she's already disappeared from your sights.

James shakes his head at her, amused by the way she jumps from one thing to the next without taking a breath.

"Peter?" you question as you and James begin to stand from the table.

"Yeah, he does bussing and some food running, a helping hand for us servers, really. He was on vacation." James explains as you follow him out into the dining room.

Your eyes fall on table six, a table for two that beholds two kind looking older ladies.

"You think you can handle this?" James juts his chin in their direction.

"Yeah," you say confidently. You have already taken the lead on some tables while James supervised. So far, it's been going well. Your first table you had to ask James to help answer some questions—maybe that's why you wanted to learn the menu so quick, it made you feel sheepish—but after that one time, James hasn't had any notes.

"Alright, I'm gonna check on our other tables then."

"Wait," you gave yourself whiplash with the way you craned your neck swiftly to look at him, "You meant handle it alone?"

"Yeah," James looks down at you reassuringly, his eyes filled with warmth, "You can do it."

"Uhh-? No, what if I-"

"Get out of that pretty little head of yours," he interrupts, "You've got this."

The sincerity in his tone incited a bit of confidence in you.

"Okay, okay. Okay sure," your shaky voice became a little more steady with each word, and you started walking to the table.

"Wait!" James carefully takes hold of your wrist. The progress you had made in easing your nerves is out the window.

"You'll need this," James slides his server book out from his apron and held it out to you.

"Right," you say quietly, smiling as you took it from him.

His hand fell from your wrist as he bid you good luck. He watches you for a moment as you greet the table, a proud gleam in his eyes.

Marlene appears beside James, a tray of waters and soft drinks balancing on her palm, "Your girl's taking orders on her own now?"

"Just the one table for today," James replies.

Marlene hums approvingly and saunters off to deliver the drinks.

James registers her words only when she's already left, "Wait, my who now?" he asks the wall.

His furrowed brows relax as he decides he kind of likes the sound of it.

After checking on your other tables, getting refills and putting new food orders in, James notices a congregation of his coworkers at the host stand so he decides to join in.

"Who's that?" Peter asks, swinging a rag over his shoulder.

Lily follows Peter's gaze to you, who's delivering some bread and butter to table six.

"James' girl?" Lily questions, "She started last week, she's been doing pretty well so far I think."

"Any reason in particular we're calling her that?" James decides to ask on his approach, having heard that phrase twice in under ten minutes.

"Ah, well, she hardly talks to anyone else." Marlene drawls.

"Eh, she's just a bit skittish," James provides an excuse for you, "it's kind of cute."

Lily and Mary share a look.

James continues, "She'll get used to you guys soon enough, just be nice." He really only says the last part to Marlene.

"I am nice," she defends.

"Well, you're not mean," Mary offers and Marlene scowls at her.

James chuckles, and turns to Peter, "How 'ave you been, mate?"

Peter opens his mouth to share details of his vacation, but he's interrupted.

"What are you all doing up here?" Nate hisses, appearing suddenly as if out of thin air, "You know how bad it looks for nearly my entire staff to be slacking off in the front of the restaurant?"

Before anyone can disperse or defend themselves, Nate continues, "And you're supposed to be training, Potter. Where's your girl?"

"Me?" your choked voice rings from behind him.

Everyone peers over at you, standing there shellshocked and blushing with a pitcher of water in your hands.

[payphoneangel]

STOP calling jody deans mom they're friends and she literally leans on him for parenting advice that is not mom behavior she's just an emotionally intelligent woman with her life together

[withonly-sweetheart]

Your Hero

Friendly neighborhood Spiderman, huh? You wouldn’t have expected your new dorky nerd best friend to be passing in the shadows of the charming hero behind the mask, hanging upside down and staring at you with odd interest. Why does he seem oddly familiar?

a/n: @candlekiss THIS HAS BEEN FORMULATING FOR QUITE A WHILE... ITS JUST BEEN MARINATING... TRUST ME THE BEST FOOD GETS MARINATED FOR LIKE THREE YEARS 😭😭😭

UR ART INSPIRES ME SM !! NEVER GIVE UP ON UR DREAMS BECAUSE THIS IS A REALLY GOOD SCENARIO WITHOUT YOUR ART I WOULDNT HAVE "to keep an angel" OR THIS FIC!! ILYSM MARI <3

college leon art omg mari u are such a queen (bt dubs college leon is literally this hes a dorky nerd 🤓💗) nerd!leon art here

tw: fluff from college leon and spiderman leon because they've both been swirling in my mind fr !!

wc: 3.3k

To be fair, you didn’t pay much attention to Leon at the beginning of the semester. You kept to your separate corners of the world; his being the potted plant near the doorway, where he stood with a bag slung over his shoulder every day, eyes narrowing at the watch on his left wrist, and…

Maybe you have paid attention to him.

It was a dance you had forgotten you’d learned, talking with him. He’s not the same guy you remember from high school, the one who always stuttered through answers and pushed his glasses up when the class mocked him.

The only person being mocked seems to be you now, three weeks into the semester, and the dip of your already fluctuating grades is enough to spur you to find a tutor. Your professor doesn’t seem to be much help, offers you a weak smile and a shrug and tells you to find resources elsewhere.

And you find it in the once, now self-assured straighten of his back as you snake around the crowd to tap his shoulder, grinning broadly.

“Heard you’re pretty good at this stuff,” you offer vaguely. Leon cocks a brow and you don’t expect the amused smile on his face to cause you to feel flustered.

“Guess I am,” he replies, and it seems that not only has his personality and appearance changed, but his voice is at least an octave deeper. It resonates through your entire body in a way that's difficult to describe. “Why? Need help?”

An awkward silence stretches between you as the implications of his altered tone sink in. Clearing your throat, you shuffle your feet and continue, "So, uh, when are you free?"

Leon taps his chin thoughtfully. "Is lunch okay for you?"

You consider it for a moment. “Wow, are you asking me out?”

He winks and you just about buckle to the ground. “Didn’t you come up to me first?”

<><><><>

The chair makes an absurdly loud sound when Leon scoots closer, hands clenched around the base of his seat, a bashful smile on his face as he waves his apologies to all the wandering, hesitant eyes that meet you.

It’s been about a month, and there seems to be no progress with your grades. You would consider dropping him altogether if it weren’t for the strange fact that you enjoy his company, cherish that he takes time from his evidently busy schedule to tutor you.

“Go on,” he prompts when you snap back to attention, startling from his fingers waving in front of you, brushing your nose. “What else did you notice?”

“There was definitely a lot of conflict in the last few scenes,” you mutter, trying to recall last night’s frantic reading that he had assigned three weeks ago.

“I don’t know, I wouldn’t really say death is conflicting, would you?” he replies dryly, dropping his head to glance up at you from under his glasses, and therefore, his long, wispy eyelashes. They reflect the dim lights of the library, seeming to sparkle and illuminate his eyes.

“... yes?”

“No one dies,” he says, stirring from his position once again to stretch his arms against the table, lying his cheek onto the muscle of his bicep, staring up at you with a puffier face. “You didn’t read it, did you?”

“... no?”

“I can’t be here forever,” he whispers, quietly, only for your ears. “You know how many things I have to be doing. Put the effort in. For me, please?”

And something about his tone is so sincere, so genuine that it makes you want to try harder, push yourself, do the homework on time and actually do something about your grades.

<><><><>

You’ve grown to consider him a friend. Your grades have lifted, as has the burden from your shoulders, head high when you stroll out of the lecture hall, and spot Leon fumbling with the vending machine nearby.

It’s a habit to startle him whenever you see him outside of classes, yet you don’t understand the strange looks you get. In any case, he is infinitely a better person than you had expected, better than everyone you had tried to get with initially.

He flinches at your touch, fingers creeping between his arm and torso, wiggling to spark a surprisingly tired laugh.

“What kept you up all night?” you tease. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Nothing of the sort,” he responds gruffly, eyes softening in exhaustion. “That would be better than what’s going on right now.”

Leon is a reserved man. He trusts you to some extent, where, on the other hand, you’re ready to give your life for him. You get attached quickly, what can you say?

<><><><>

You’ve grown used to barging into your shared rooms, not announcing your arrival, often catching Leon off guard, staring down at something on his phone before he shoves it away, that same embarrassed expression slipping off his face when you ask what’s wrong.

​​You arrive back at your dorm after a long day of classes, exhausted and looking forward to relaxing. But what’s past that door is everything that you would think not to expect.

"Oh- hey, you're back!" Leon says with a grin. But that's not all that catches your attention - your roommate has a bizarre outfit on; a brown, crinkled leather jacket, cargo pants, something that looks horrifyingly bland on him. And is that a splash of blue you see peeking out from underneath everything?

"Uh, Leon..." you reply, taken aback. "Didn't realize you were into cosplay. Something you need to tell me?"

"It’s, uhm, complicated," Leon replies vaguely, rubbing the back of his neck. "Let’s just say I have some important work to take care of."

"Right, because you're secretly the city’s hero," you deadpan, still not sure whether to believe this outrageous claim. “Well, come back soon, alright? I need help decoding chapters 18 and 24.”

“Of course,” he says with a wink. “I’ll just be a minute.”

But a minute goes by, which you expect, but then that minute morphs into a hour, and then two, then four, and eventually you’re worriedly pacing your dorm floor, awaiting a phone call, text message, anything to just know-

The phone vibrates a moment later as you rush to fish it out of your baggy pockets, jamming your finger against the notification.

Of course its not him. An unknown number, something fairly recognizable but you can’t quite put your finger on it. The hometown seems to be somewhere far away, starting digits something you don’t have the time to search up when the next text pops up.

Come outside? :)

who is this?

I just have your notes. Hurry up.

oh, thanks! gimme a sec

You remember requesting notes to study from Leon, but he gave your number to his friend, without your consent, might you add, so this must be him. He deemed this friend was far more outgoing, far more entertaining, a better person to hang out with.

You don’t expect Spiderman to be this friend of his.

<><><><>

“I’m starting to think you like me,” he jests, months later, on one of his patrols of the city. He always swings by your window, conveniently always timing his visits when Leon’s out with duties at the police station. You want to deny the accusation, but can't bring yourself to lie to the webslinger perched outside your window.

Not when those masked eyes peer at you with such care and familiarity. Like they see straight into your conflicted soul.

Not when you don’t want them to hang out. Of course not. The problem is your heart is pulling you in two different ways, down two paths that never intersect, and navigating these tangled feelings seems impossible without hurting one of them. They're so alike, yet fate keeps your two dimensions apart. You don't know how much longer your heart can take the strain.

But you bottle it all up, every little bit of you that screams to be adored, cherished in the way they both look at you, one through a mask and the other through glasses, both doing little to nothing to hide their emotions, the expressive raises of their eyebrows.

They’re definitely like each other, a little too much, you suspect.

A sigh escapes your lips. "It's not that simple. You both..." You shake your head, not wanting to put either in an awkward position. Some walls are better left unbreached. "Just focus on helping people, okay? That's what's really important."

He crouches silently beside you for a while, sensing your troubled thoughts without needing to be told. When he speaks again, his voice is gentle. 

"You seem really down. What do you say I take you around the city for a bit? Might do you some good to get some air." He nods toward the skyline glowing in the dusk. "No better view than from up high, if you're up for it."

You eye him hesitantly, unsure if facing your feelings while swinging between skyscrapers is the best idea. But it has been so long since his invitation stirred your spirit rather than your heart. And you could really use a distraction. 

Gripping his offered hand, you nod. "Sure. Why not? I definitely might not die from this." 

Spiderman chuckles, pulling you firmly against his side. "You better hang on tight then." 

A spray of webbing shoots forth and you're jolted into the air, wind whipping around you both. Your uncertain thoughts fade against the euphoria of flight.

For now, it's just you and the freefall through flooded lights.

And the handsome, mysterious, masked hero you’re wrapped around.

<><><><>

“I can’t see you anymore,” your hero mutters one night as you push the window open, eagerly awaiting his tranquil presence, the idea that he takes the burden, the pressure of school off your shoulders, sharing the weight of the sky with you.

“What?” You stare up at him and he stretches, seemingly uncomfortable.

“Can we talk?” He gestures down at the alley between your dorm building and the conveniently close laundromat, however loud the broken washing machines get.

“Yeah.” Your lips form a purse, behind them, your thoughts are clumsy and tie themselves in a bow around your tongue, presented to Spiderman as broken sentences as you approach his state.

He’s hanging upside down, face tilted curiously, in a crouching position, held by only the thinning strand of web, and you wonder how that small thing is able to carry such a physique. 

“I’m putting you in danger,” he protests a few minutes later, standing in front of you, back turned away as you lean against the brick wall, crossing your arms with a stubborn huff.

“Have I died?” You shake our head like a little kid. “No!”

"What's your endgame, huh?" he asks in desperation, wildly turning to confront you. "Why do you insist on being friends with me?"

"Are you saying you've got an issue with that?" you retort flippantly, the tiniest hint of something like pain flickering in your eyes. "Am I bothering you or something?"

“They’re all after me," he frantically explains, words spilling out of your mouth like water from a broken dam. "I’m literally the most wanted man right now!" 

"But you seem to be handling it well," you counter.

"Can't you see?!" he shrieks, voice bordering on the hysterical, and you can see the prayer in his expression, that the fear in his eyes will send you packing. "Stay with me, and you're signing your death warrant!"

“How can you be so sure?” you ask, disbelief coating your words, unable to determine whether or not he’s weaving tales to get you off his back.

“Because,” he hisses, a tight whisper, “I’ve lost too many people. Too many people I love.”

“Love?” You scoff. “You wouldn’t be this ecstatic to get me away from you if you really loved me?”

Spiderman looks at you, confusion etched on his face. “You… think I don’t love you?”

“Obviously not.”

“How can I prove it?” he asks, stepping closer, face softening, closing the agonizing distance between you with a few steps. “I can’t promise your safety. I love you too much to let you die.”

“Of course you do,” you say, waving off his words.

“How do I prove it?” he repeats, more pressing, urgent, like he needs a response before he does anything. His hands are right there, so close to your waist, and you find yourself itching to throw yourself into his arms.

“Kiss me,” you blurt out. “And I’ll know.”

You see him grin. You think he’ll take the whole mask off, but that was proving too much to hope for, but your heart still flutters when you see the bottom half of his face, faintly recognizable, but the hazy feeling in your mind that sparks from his lips only serves to cloud your thoughts even more.

His mouth presses harder against yours, hand curling around your hip, slotting in perfectly like it’s meant to be there, for what feels like another second before he pulls away roughly.

All too briefly, he tears his lips away to yank down his mask, chest heaving. "Shit, I shouldn't have..."

But the words die when you reach up to caress his cheek, seeing the flush that spreads underneath the mask. "It's okay. I wanted this too."

Leon's eyes - no, Spiderman's eyes - drop shut like he's in physical pain. "You don't know what you're asking. I can't… we can't..."

You try to reassure him but he backs away each time, out of reach, like he’s further away than you can see, deserts and oceans, miles and miles between you, even though just a moment ago he was closer than you’d ever imagined.

And you yearn to know who he is.

You suspect you’ve known all along.

How silly is it?

"When you're ready to stop running," you call softly, "you know where to find me."

And you’ll know where to find him.

<><><><>

The first piece of evidence to support your claim comes the afternoon following that night, with your squinted eyes trailing Leon everywhere, drawing a chuckle from that beautiful mouth, the mouth that, you suspect, had been pressed furiously against yours last night.

Not only that, something seems off with his shoulder. It’s held stiff at his side, and everytime you decide to be lazy and ask him to fetch something from the kitchen, he winces, grumbles something under his breath, rolls his shoulder and stalks away.

After a few days of waiting for your ‘beloved dormmate’ to open up to you, you take matters into your own hands. He hasn’t even fumbled to grab his keys from his pocket before you spring up from the couch, swing the door open and steer him over to where you were just sitting.

You peel away his shirt before he can protest, leaving him bare chested and stammering, skin burning into crimson. 

“What are you doing?” he murmurs as you press the area.

“I may not know how to read,” you reply, prodding his shoulder blade, “but I know how to treat injuries just fine.”

“Why not become a doctor?”

You shrug. “Too much work.”

He smiles, and the curve of his lip, so similar to the smart mouth and remarks you looked forward to every night is the second piece you need.

<><><><>

The third, and final, you hope, piece comes when you sigh, scrubbing a hand down your face as you enter your dorm room. Safe to say that without Leon’s tutoring due to his more and more frequent absences, occasionally showing up only to be slumped at his table, snoring softly.

Without him listening, you knew you were doomed. So you’re about to scream your ass off, chastising him, telling him to get to class quicker, that whatever he does in his free time can wait.

But Leon stands by the window in a way that gives you pause. His back is turned, shoulders hunched as if lost in thought. What really catches your eye, though, is the bit of red fabric dangling from his fingers.

"Everything okay?" you ask slowly, shutting the door behind you. Leon whips around at the sound, hastily stuffing the fabric - no, his mask - into his pocket. But not before you notice the familiar webbed pattern. 

"Fine!" he replies, a little too cheerfully to be real. "Just, uh, thinking. Hey, did you see that video of the guy backflipping off a building? Crazy stunts people pull these days."

You raise a brow. "Sure, but it looks like you've got something else on your mind. Or should I say under your clothes?" Leon pales. Without a word, you stride over and pluck the mask from his pocket, giving it a wave.

"Want to explain this?" Your tone is light, but inside your heart hammers. Finally, after weeks of prancing around the bush, he’ll give it to you straight, setting things right.

Leon stares at the mask like a deer in headlights, at a total loss for words. You've never seen him so unsettled.

"Look, I can explain," he says anxiously. "Just, hear me out before you freak, alright?" 

You arch an eyebrow, pretending to be intrigued. "I'm listening."

Leon launches into a tale - the spider bite, the powers, how he's used them these past months to protect the city from the shadows. By the end, you’re hanging onto each word - you didn’t know your friend was quite the storyteller.

"So you're really him, huh?" you say, still processing that your suspicions had indeed been correct. "My secretive roommate is the one and only Spiderman."  

Leon runs a hand through his hair. "I know it's a lot to take in.”

“Not really,” you say with a shrug.

He stares at you blankly. “What?”

“You think I couldn’t tell from that night in the alley?” you muse. “I’m not as dense as you think, Spidey.”

A slow smile spreads across his face, relief washing over your face at the fact he isn’t mad about that. "Spidey? How cute.”

You match his grin. "Now you're talking." You hand the mask back to him, crossing your arms with a stern look. “Now, I don't need your protection, Leon," you insist, softening as he flinches at your use of his real name. "We're in this together, like it or not. No more secrets, deal?"

Leon sighs, gripping the mask tighter. Slowly, he nods, relaxing his expression. "No more secrets. And you can call me Spidey, if you want."

You pretend to mull it over. "Hmm… well, now I’m not so sure it has the same ring to it as Spider-man." But saying it makes Leon's entire face light up like a kid on Christmas. You can't help but return his infectious grin.

“Alright then,” you say, unable to stop cheesing. “Now get back out there! There’s a city calling your name!”

Leon quirks a brow, and you tilt your head to question the gesture.

“Can I count on the next person calling my name being you?” he says sweetly, batting his eyelashes at you. 

“You can count on your nose being broken if you don’t get out of here in the next five seconds,” you joke and Leon seems to visibly lose the blood in his cheeks.

You find it adorable that he takes you seriously.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he says, clambering through the window, as if he’s suddenly in a rush.

“Yeah?” you reply, humming to yourself as you stroll over to him, pondering what your life will be like from now on, having a superhero as your best friend- no, you realize, looking into his iridescent eyes. Boyfriend.

“Remember to read chapter 37,” he says dotingly. Then he leans down to capture your lips and words in a quick kiss. Then he’s grinning and gone.

Vanished into the night, a shadow slung across the bright city lights.

Your hero.

[all-things-are-nothing-to-me]

Left to right. First row.

1. The Faggots and Their Friends Between Revolutions by Larry Mitchell.

In a joyous and perverse intermingling of fable, myth, heterotopian vision, and pocket wisdom, The Faggots & Their Friends tell us stories of the 70s gay countercultures and offer us strategies and wisdom for our own time living Between Revolutions. These pages sketch a different shape to time and offer instructions for living within it. This story, like our own, plays out in liminal time. Not the time of revolution, and not after-the-revolution, the story occurs between revolutions. Being between revolutions: being enmeshed in slow entropy, in abandoned spaces, in lives forged without recourse to “winning” or “after.” The faggots feel this disintegration, and live best when empires are falling.

2. Be Gay, Do Crime by The Mary Nardini Gang.

Among the discordant chorus of anons who penned the defining texts of the queer anarchist network Bash Back!, none was more fervent in its glorification of criminal desire, decadent hedonism, and social undoing than the Milwaulkee-based Mary Nardini Gang. Their fiery “Towards the Queerest Insurrection” still circulates as an integral manifesto of riotous queerness, while the “Criminal Intimacy” and “Whore Theory” have made their more subterranean way into innumerable conversations and correspondences.

Ten years later, the secretive group supplements these collected writings with a subtle retrospective. Carefully unlocking the hidden layers of their theses on insurrection, they face up to what they got wrong, concede that the world ended somewhere between the Greek insurrection of 2008 and now, and insist upon the vital task of ushering new worlds into being as we live amid the decomposition and cataclysmic death throes of the old one. To their theses on insurrection, they prepend a new arcana tooled for opening onto the queerest of outsides.

Dedicated to their friends among the dead, this pocket edition is a necromantic mirror, an encrypted message to old loves, and an invitation to those finding these words for the first time.

3. The Criminal Child by Jean Genet.

“As for me, I have chosen: I will be on the side of crime. And I will help the children, not to win back access to your houses, your factories, your schools, your laws, and sacraments, but to destroy them.”

So reads this new clandestine translation of a previously censored and unavailable text by Jean Genet. “The Criminal Child” is a critical engagement with the French youth prisons, a reflection on Genet’s formative years within them, a document of hostility towards society and its benevolent reformers, and – as argued by the anonymous afterword – an initiatory magical system.

5. Witchcraft and the Gay Counterculture by Arthur Evans.

This radical faerie classic, first published in 1978 by Fag Rag Press, uncovers the hidden mythic link between homosexuality and paganism in an elegy for the world of sex and magic vanquished by Christian civilization. From Joan of Arc to the Cathars and the underground worshippers of Diana, the author shows how every upwelling of gender transgression and sexual freedom was targeted by the authorities for total and often violent repression or appropriation. The concluding manifesto calls for pagan reconnection with the living world, the creation of armed anarchist cells, and the destruction of industrial civilization.

Left to right. Row 2.

1. What is Gender Nihilism? A Reader.

A collection gathering readings for discussions on an end to gender: not the proliferation or liberation of gender, but its catastrophic cancellation. The reader brings together writings as old as 1883 and as recent as 2015, juxtaposing nihilist, radical feminist, queer, trans, anticolonial, communizing and insurrectionary approaches with other unclassifiable textual/existential disruptions. Many of the readings are out of print or have only appeared online or in zine form, and include: Adrienne Rich, Monique Wittig, Michel Foucault, Judith Butler, A.R. Stone, Paul B. Preciado, the entities known as Radicalesbians, Gender Mutiny, Baedan, Ehn Nothing, Laboria Cuboniks and, as always, Anonymous. Also includes “My Preferred Gender Pronoun is Negation,” “Gender Nihilism” by Aidan Rowe, and the gender nihilism anti-manifesto that inspired the collection.

2. Baedan 1 – journal of queer nihilism.

3. Baedan 2 – a queer journal of heresy.

If the first issue of Baedan was a knife thrust wildly in the dark, the second is an effort to examine our enemies in a new light; enemies who bear scars yet endure. In a sense, this issue follows through our initial attack and pushes beyond our own horrors at the consequences of words. We write at a time when everything which seemed slightly possible two years ago has borne its rotten fruit; when queer recuperation has become more powerful and accepted than ever, while the fetish for technology has reached an unprecedented frenzy; when so many efforts at subversion languish under the tyranny of cybernetic identity and aesthetics (even our own etymologies have become identities!); when friends turn away out of fear of the unknown, turn toward all the comforts and certainties of the past (identity politics, traditionalism, religious morality, activism, et al). The old enemies rear their heads and the terrain is as bleak as ever. And yet we take seriously that adage: “There’s no need to fear or hope, but only to look for new weapons.”

4. Baedan 3 – journal of queer time travel.

Bædan: journal of queer time travel marks a further attempt to pose and to flesh out a queer critique of civilization. Queer not only in the sense of coming from those outside and disruptive of the Family, but also in the sense of a critique weirder than its more orthodox cousins. We imagine the Bædan project as an effort to pose the critique of civilization otherwise, to begin from another place. In this issue (and beyond…) we have conjured a strange bestiary of thinking, trying to unearth and trace the tradition of anti-civilization thought in the literature of queerness and in queerness as immanent critique.

*I couldn't find this one online*

[she-who-fights-and-writes]

Ideas for subverting popular character tropes? I've started a story and am having difficulty making my cast of characters unique. I'd love it if you had any fresh takes on tropes like the mentor, the sidekick, etc...

POPULAR CHARACTER TROPES AND PROMPTS TO SUBVERT THEM

A character trope, sometimes called a character archetype, is a “recognizable element within a story or plot that defines or conveys information about a character. Character tropes can either define a character's entire role in a plot or the character's personality or motivations.” (source: arcstudiopro).

Many people bash “tropes,” but what you have to remember is that there is no such thing as a unique idea; everything has been done before, and the reason why tropes are so popular is because (a lot of time) they work!

It is totally possible to have a "normal" trope in your story without making it a cliché. However, if you’re looking to subvert these expectations, here’s a list of ideas I’ve come up with!

(This is me brainstorming on the fly to help get your gears turning, so I apologize if these aren’t fully fleshed out or if they’ve already been done before!)

1. THE CHOSEN ONE

The “Chosen One” is a trope where “one character is framed as the inevitable hero or antihero of the story, as a result of destiny, unique gifts, and/or special lineage” (source: Wikipedia). The Chosen One is often depicted as naive or unwilling at the beginning, and has a progression of growth through the narrative when they “accept their destiny.”

Examples:

Luke Skywalker (Star Wars)

Harry Potter (Harry Potter)

Frodo (The Lord of the Rings)

Neo (The Matrix)

Subversions:

1. The protagonist who was believed to be the chosen one from the very beginning discovers that it was actually someone else the whole time and must come to terms with the realization that they no longer have this title that they’ve based their entire life (and perhaps personality) around. (Bonus points if the new Chosen One is someone they’re close to).

2. Every solstice, the “Holy Order” sends a Chosen One to defeat the monster that has been ravaging their town. None ever return. The protagonist is selected as the next Chosen One, only to find that being Chosen does not mean “Chosen to defeat the monster” but rather “Chosen as the sacrifice to appease the monster.” (Bonus points if the reason the Chosen Ones always die is because the “Holy Order” misguides them (gives them broken weapons/drugged food/faulty armor/directs them into traps/etc.)).

3. Having the Chosen Power comes with a price. After someone is Chosen, it is a death sentence. The protagonist must find a way to defeat the villain AND purge themself of the Chosen Power before it’s too late (Bonus points if the villain helps them purge the Chosen Power).

2. THE SIDEKICK

The sidekick is a friend and helper of the main protagonist. They are often depicted as a loyal comic relief character made to emphasize the hero’s greatness, and may be killed off to advance the hero’s journey.

Examples:

Robin (Batman)

Samwise Gamgee (The Lord of the Rings)

Chewbacca (Star Wars)

Pan (His Dark Materials)

Subversions:

1. The “sidekick” is actually the hero of the story; the narrator just has an inflated ego and believes themself to be the hero. Meanwhile, their “sidekick” is the one saving the world.

2. Sidekicks are often depicted as younger than the hero. Perhaps an older sidekick might do good to spice things up (Bonus points if it’s without turning them into the mentor trope).

3. The sidekick is a former hero who had to watch their own sidekick sacrifice themself, and was convinced to leave hiding by the current hero. (Bonus points if the sidekick dies in a poetic way that is a narrative foil to the way his own sidekick died, perhaps in a “I didn’t understand why they would sacrifice themself for me but now I get it”).

4. A ridiculously strong/powerful Mary Sue type character is the sidekick to a Normal Guy™ (Bonus points if they are incredibly content in this position).

5. The sidekick is not a willing sidekick; they were kidnapped by the hero because they have an object/bloodline/power/etc. that is essential to defeating the villain.

3. THE MENTOR

The Mentor is the protagonist’s teacher, who helps them transition from a “normal” person into a hero. The Mentor is often depicted as wise and virtuous, teaching the protagonist not only the ways of fighting or magic, but also the ways of good and evil. The mentor is often killed off to advance the hero’s character arc, due to the fact that they are sometimes seen as a parental figure.

Examples:

Dumbledore (Harry Potter)

Yoda (Star Wars)

Uncle Iroh (Avatar the Last Airbender)

Mr. Miyagi (Karate Kid)

Subversions:

1. The mentor is the narrator. After spending so much time training the Chosen One and raising them like their own child, they must hear news that they have been killed by the villain. While still grieving (or perhaps fueled by revenge), the mentor must venture out and defeat the villain themself.

2. Have the mentor be a woman! You would be shocked at how overwhelmingly male-dominated the “mentor” archetype is!

3. The mentor turns on the protagonist that they trained…not because the mentor has turned evil, but because the mentor believes that the protagonist has become a monster (à la Kung Fu Panda). (Bonus points if the mentor is actually right and the protagonist really has become a monster).

4. The bright-eyed Chosen One thinks the world of their mentor, only to realize through experiences with others that the mentor trained them horribly, and that the mentor only used their training to boost their renown—without expecting them to survive their fight with the villain. (Bonus points if the protagonist is an unreliable narrator, and we as the readers feel just as betrayed by the mentor because we, too, thought they were a great person).

5. The mentor is the former Chosen One, desperate for the current Chosen One to not make the same mistakes. The current Chosen One resents the mentor for pushing them so hard and treating them so cruelly, but in reality the mentor is just overprotective (Bonus points if it’s not revealed that they were the legendary “Defeated Chosen One” until later).

4. THE DAMSEL IN DISTRESS

Although a Damsel in Distress is often associated with female characters, any character is capable of falling into this archetype; mostly known for being a passive figure who exists mostly as an object for the hero to save.

This is one of the few character tropes that is difficult to break the negative stigma, due to its root in misogyny and the disadvantages that come along with having a character without personal goals or motivations. In my opinion, if you have a character that follows this archetype to the T, perhaps you should consider some revising.

Examples:

Lois Lane (Superman)

Princess Buttercup (The Princess Bride)

Mary Jane Watson (Spiderman)

Ann Darrow (King Kong)

Subversions:

1. The passive, meek damsel in distress whom the hero has been working relentlessly to save actually turns out to be a villain! Their supposed rescue efforts were used as a distraction while the evil plot unfolds, and ends with a fight to the death!

2. The damsel in distress gets in a huge fight with the protagonist when they come to the rescue; they were undercover the entire time, and the protagonist has ruined their plans!

5. THE FEMME FATALE

The femme fatale is usually characterized as a mysterious woman who seduces and entraps men with her body. This doesn’t necessarily have to be a gendered archetype, but often errs into sexualization and misogyny (especially in works written by men).

Examples:

Jane Smith (Mr. & Mrs. Smith)

Nikita (La Femme Nikita)

Catwoman (Batman)

Catherine Tramell (Basic Instinct)

Subversions:

1. The Femme Fatale doesn’t know they’re a femme fatale. They are a master of seduction and gaining valuable information through licentious wiles, but it’s all an accident; they just-so-happen to sleep with rivals and they just-so-happen to say important information. The femme fatale casually brings this information up in conversation, rendering the team awed by their “impressive skill set.”

2. The Femme Fatale is male or nonbinary (Bonus points if they will seduce any gender).

3. There is a Femme Fatale team; an icy power couple dedicated to killing through threesomes.

6. THE GEEK (OR MAD SCIENTIST OR NERD OR KNOW-IT-ALL ETC.)

The Geek, or the Mad Scientist, is the character known for knowing everything. They often have a lack of social skills, and their vast knowledge of random things helps the characters when they’ve been backed into a corner…though they sometimes tend to be a quick fix for writers who’ve written their characters into a corner and need an easy solution.

Examples:

Sheldon (The Big Bang Theory)

Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds)

Spock (Star Trek)

L (Death Note)

Subversions:

1. The Geek has leadership skills and ability to inspire others. Awkward is not the complete opposite of charismatic; just because someone may have trouble talking to people doesn’t mean they can’t foster intense loyalty from their comrades. (Think along the lines of L from Death Note. Bonus if they’re the leader of their organization, and their subordinates would face God and walk backwards into Hell for them).

2. Combine the Geek with another archetype, perhaps an antithesis archetype like the Dumb Jock. For example, a Geek that enjoys the outdoors and extreme sports like rock climbing (but rather than to get buff, they just want to look at the fantastic granite deposits on the side of the mountain they’re climbing). Or perhaps a Geek Femme Fatale, whose “special interest” is the psychology of seduction.

3. The Geek hates what they do. The “passion” that Geeks usually have for machines/non-humans/their chosen expertise is forced upon them because they’re super smart. In reality, they’d wanted to take it easy going to business school but nooooo the world was at stake so they had to become an expert in the intergalactic space-time continuum.

4. The Geek is useless. Their musings are more mania than genius, their explanations and ideas incomprehensible to a normal human being, and the group only keeps them around with the hopes that one day they’ll come up with an idea that actually makes sense. (Bonus if that idea comes at the climax of the story).

8. THE DUMB JOCK (OR HIMBO)

The dumb jock, also known as “the brawn,” is an archetype that is often categorized by being all buff and no brains. They often are, or at least begin as, the antagonist of the story, and if they aren’t, they’re considered the “Himbo” character (with character traits being buff, dumb, and respectful to women), who are often reduced merely to their attractiveness and stupidity, without much depth.

Examples:

Jason Carver (Stranger Things)

Mitch Downe (ParaNorman)

Kronk (The Emperor’s New Groove)

Bolin (The Legend of Korra)

Subversions:

1. The himbo and/or jock is frustrated with the way that their comrades always reduce them to the brawn. They feel left out and isolated because they can’t understand the lofty conversations of their peers, and know that they, in a way, look down on them for not being as smart (Bonus if this becomes a major plot point in the character’s arc, causing a huge blowout fight that fissures the group because of it).

2. The himbo/jock’s stupidity does not reduce them to comic relief. The himbo/jock is well-respected and has incredible emotional intelligence and charisma/street smarts, but merely lacks in textbook intelligence.

3. The himbo/jock is a woman! Break through the stereotype of dumb strong people being men and put some herbos in your story (Bonus if you don’t sexualize her and just let her be herself).

4. An idea from the jock/himbo becomes an integral part of the plan to save the world!

9. THE ANTIHERO

The antihero archetype is categorized by their lack of conventional heroic attributes, their execution of their goals through morally gray means, and their frequent reluctance to be the one saving the world. Their motivations may be vengeance, hatred, or any other less-than heroic inspiration besides “the greater good.” In fact, the antihero is sometimes the antagonist of the story, but due to the fact that the audience is seeing things from their perspective, they often tend to root for them.

The antihero used to be its own subversion of the “Chosen One” archetype, but became so widespread that it itself became its own archetype. That’s why antiheroes are so varied, to the point where you may not even need a subversion due to how many possible ideas there are to choose from. (This was the hardest list to make!)

Examples:

Barry Berkman (Barry)

Harley Quinn (DC)

Cassie Thomas (Promising Young Woman)

Deadpool (Deadpool)

Subversions:

1. The antihero feels guilt. Oftentimes, an antihero is depicted as stone-cold and dead-set on their actions (and sometimes they’re right! If someone killed my family, I wouldn’t care about “being the bigger person”). However, an interesting subversion may be guilt or self-awareness surrounding their actions playing a large role in the execution of their goals.

2. The antihero is not a lone wolf, and develops meaningful and positive relationships with others rather than having it be 90% snarky banter. Sometimes, antiheroes suffer from a lack of three-dimensionality due to most of their dialogue being cheeky one-liners. Anchor them solidly into the story by building a web of relationships to support them! (They don’t have to all be lovey-dovey, either! Even enemy relationships can be more than snark).

3. An honor code. Giving an antihero with an interesting honor code regarding killing, stealing, or any of their other morally gray deeds could be an excellent subversion! Having characters who are stone-cold killers but draw the line (perhaps in an odd way, such as refusing to steal cars or kill pets), somewhere can be a great way to develop their personality and show the readers their motivations.

Hope these all helped, and happy writing!

[jodiexists-art]

ramble about your parallel fanon

Ok thanks for the excuse 2 make a design HEHEHEHE

So to provide a little context on my agent 4, they're an astrophysics student, and stumbled into Marie in octo canyon bc they've been doing their project on the magnetic fields and radio interference in octo canyon/salmonid territory.

I think this is pivotal 2 why cuttlefish recommended her to marina to help w memverse security

I'm also of the opinion that, since nobody else has claimed to be free association I think it should be 4 and the octoling engineers.

I think parallel Canon should have had black and red skins of the hero weapons I think they look ten billion times cooler. And I think they should have had the Sheldon drone. Like if they're going 2 lean into the multiple weapons thing it shoulda been the hero weapons.

Anyway there's an element of like. Because it's a roguelite you can't just remove parallel Canon from the game after you defeat it once, cause its a replayable game yk. But it didn't agree w me that you never really break 4 out of it, where 3 does get freed yk?

So I'm of the opinion that like. After 8 defeats them the first time, they get lucky, and the mask disconnects. After 8 moves onto the next floor, 4 manages to fire themself from the mask, but now they're stuck in the tower, and the lift is evidently occupied. The next time you fight parallel Canon, the other inklings are still there, but 4 isn't.

4 now has access to their own palette, with 1 lucky armour drop chip (so they have the lime colour, and also because I think it's funny, like as in they Dropped the mask.) They get to navigate levels in the same way, but they have to use the stairs. It's not visible in all the stages but in some of them there's huge staircases in the background. Otherwise, they use a rope to climb up and abseil down outside the elevator, and they have to collect pretty much everything they gather from the vending machines, since they can't get chips from the elevator.

Normally they'd have extra security access, but Order is blocking them out (they may be the security expert, but they didn't think to account from the security risk coming from Inside the memverse, solely protecting it from external influence.

I haven't bashed out what happens narratively after that but I think 4 and smollusk should be besties. They should make friends and hang out. And I feel bad for smollusk being left alone in the memverse, hence the tamagotchi, I think 4 should bring it with them and show them the outside world :3

[holylulusworld]

Designed by pain (4)

Summary: Broken hearts are hard to put back together. 8 years ago, Dean lost something he didn’t even know he had in the first place. Will he get a second chance?

Pairing: former AU!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, implied break-up, angry Sam, Mary bashing

A/N: This was an alternative idea for the first chapter of my Bucky story: Monster-in-law masterlist. I decided to use it for a story with Dean.

Designed by pain masterlist

Designed by pain (3)

“Sammy, I can’t just go to her hotel and ask her to forgive me or take me back,” Dean mutters under his breath. Sam talked him into confronting Mary and to talk to you before you got the chance to fly back home.

“Dean, this is your only chance. We will talk to mother and ask her if she has anything to do with the missing note. After we clarified that our mother is the worst,” Sam snorts at Dean’s pained expression. “What? We both know our parents are the perfect example of a failed marriage and selfishness.”

“Do you honestly believe Mother had something to do with the missing note?” Dean asks. He still doesn’t want to believe his mother would do such a thing.

“Yes, I believe she is behind all of this. Mother invited Lisa, and she distracted you. Hell, she even refused to acknowledge Y/N’s presence.” Sam throws his hands up. “Wake up. Our mother is a manipulative mastermind.”

“I’m going to ask you this only once, Mother,” Sam stalks toward his mother. He straightens his back and tries to look even more intimating as he dwarfs his mother. “Did you steal the note Y/N left that night eight years ago? Yes or no.”

“Samuel, where is this coming from out of a sudden? How dare you come here to attack your own flesh and blood like that,” Mary sniffles. “I can’t believe my son talks like that to me.”

“I guess this means yes, Dean.”

“Mother, what did the note say?” Dean pleadingly looks at his mother. “I know you wanted me to get back together with Lisa, but please, I need to know if you took the note Y/N left.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she snaps at her son. “If you’d excuse me now. I got better things to do than letting my sons walk all over me.”

“Stop!” Sam blocks his mother’s path when she tries to leave the room. “You will answer Dean’s question. I know you don’t care that you ruined his relationship with Y/N and that he lost the woman he loved that night. But I will not let you ruin the one chance he got with Y/N.”

“Samuel,” she sniffs and wipes a fake tear off her cheek. “I didn’t take a note. I saw the ring, that’s all.”

“So, you admit that you entered their room that night,” Sam takes a step toward his mother and another. “Answer my question. Did you enter their room and take the note.” He gets louder with every word. “YES OR NO MOTHER!”

“YES!” She sneers. “I never liked that woman. She was no good for your brother. I invited Lisa to make him see what he was missing out. I took the note and left the ring. It was for the best.”

“What did she write?” Dean asks again. “I need to know.”

“I don’t remember,” she shrugs. “I burned the note, and that’s the end of the story. You should thank me.”

“You are dead to me,” Dean shakes his head when Mary tries to touch his arm. “You ruined the best thing ever happening to me. I can’t believe I was too blind to see that you’re a manipulative bitch.”

Dean turns on his heels and storms out of the house. He gets into his car to drive toward your hotel, forgetting about his brother and his hurt pride. He’ll try to get you back. No matter what.”

“Now that Dean is gone,” Sam’s voice is dangerously low as he leans closer. “You will tell me what she wrote. If not, I’ll make sure John will hear about your dirty little secret.” He smirks darkly when his mother whimpers. “The pool boy…”

Dean didn’t make it in time. When he arrived at your hotel, you already checked out. He drove as fast as possible, pushing his beloved car to its limit, but it was no use. 

The airplane was in the air, and you were gone. Once again, he came too late…

“Mommy!” Your son runs toward you, giggling and laughing when you pick him up and twirl him around. “How was your flight? Did you get me something cool?”

“I got you something cool,” you whisper and peck his hair. “Look inside my back, baby. You’ll love it. Uncle Bobby got it for you.”

“Cool,” your son opens your bag to find another classic car model. It’s a 1967er Impala. A split-image of Dean’s car. The one your son wanted since he found an old picture of Dean and his car. “I love it, mommy.”

“I know baby,” you run your hand over his hair. You sigh but shake the sadness off. Seeing Dean after so many years hurt you more than you thought possible. “Let’s have dinner before we look for the perfect spot for the car.”

Your son was fast asleep while sleeping soundly on the couch. After dinner, and a long conversation with your son about cars, and the airplane he drew, you fell asleep on the couch.

The last days drained all the energy out of you, and you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that Dean had the guts to blame you for leaving. He even lied about the note you left.

Dean wrings his hands. He debates whether to use the number he got from Charlie or not. What if you don’t take his call? What if you don’t believe his mother stole the note you left?

He takes a deep breath and dials your number, waiting for you to pick up the phone.

Dean closes his eyes, holding his breath when you take the call.

 "Hello, this is Ms. Y/L/N phone you are speaking to. I'm Michael Joseph Y/L/N, how can I help you?" Dean gasps at the other end of the line, whilst he tries to find his voice. He didn’t expect a child to answer his call.

"Hi, I'm Dean Winchester and I wanted to talk to your aunt Y/N Y/L/N..."

"That’s my mother, Sir. My aunt lives in France. I'm afraid my mother fell asleep on the couch. I'm asking you to call again in the morning."

"You're Y/N's son, huh?" Nosy Dean tries to get more information. "How old are you buddy? When is your birthday?"

"Why do you want to know?” your son asks. “Mom said not to tell strangers more about me. I don’t know you, so you are a stranger.”

“Uh-I’m an old friend of your mom. I’d like to give you something for your birthday,” Dean feels bad for lying to a child, but he can’t stop now.

“I'm seven, Sir. But I'll turn eight soon...well in a few months." Your son politely answers while Dean tries to remember how to do mathematics. His heart races and his jaw goes slack realizing he's got a child...with you. "Shall I tell my mom you called?"

"No, it's okay, buddy. I'll call her later..." Dean hastily says. The last thing he wants is for you to know that he knows about your sweet little secret.

Half an hour later Dean stands in front of Sam’s door, he harshly knocks and calls his brother’s name.

"SAM, Sammy, we got to fly to London, today,” he calls for his brother. “SAMMY! OPEN THE DOOR!

Sam opens the door. He yawns and rubs his tired eyes. “Dude, it's 2 am. Why are you at my apartment?" Sam grumbles. “Can’t this wait?”

"Sammy…I got a son,” Dean splutters and wildly gestures toward his car. “Y/N got my kid and I need to get to London...now..."

Designed by pain (5)

Tags in reblog.

[mysteriouslytransparentwitch]

Hello Mysterious, I hope all is well and continues to improve with you.

You don’t need to post this ask,but I just wanted to express my thoughts on the expansion of the far right across the world, in relation to your last post about France and Macron.

1. Putin

2. Trump and GOP

3. Elon Musk

4. Nigel Farage

5. Marie Le Pen

6. Venezuela president Maduro Moros, plus Argentina’s president Milea.

7. Canadian conservatives now far right party.

8. Corporate right wing media in Europe, North America across the globe.

9. Money, laundered, bit coin or otherwise.

10. War in Ukraine.

All ten are connected, with the source being Putin. He’s been involved since 2015 when he stole Russia’s state money and the oligarchs money. He’s rumoured to be the richest man in the world at one point, and what better use of that resource than to fund a world in your vision of the future??? What we’re witnessing today are the dying throes of this evil heinous collaboration. Putin was very much behind the Conservative Brexit movement in Britain and behind Boris Johnson and Nigel Farage. Not to mention putting trump in the White House. Those were his successes. Putin desires the dissolution of the EU and NATO, a united Europe. Trump was espousing those wishes when he was ‘President’. Elon and Trump are his voice in the west. Maduro was pushing to start a war in South America for oil rich land in Guyana, and was blocked by Blair and Clinton recently. The Guyana president visited Britain when all diplomacy failed on his part. I’m originally from Guyana so I was paying attention to those moves.

Putin has been funding far right causes all across the world for at least a decade now. And he should be reaping the rewards of his hard work. But sadly, no.

The media companies don’t mind the marriage and getting in bed with Putin to consummate the unholy alliance. Money is money is money. Let it rain. They don’t even draw the line at promoting his blatant propaganda as they are doing right now in bashing Biden in the US. The US citizens have to wake up and make the right decision on November 5th.

Yes I believe you when you say Macron will have a fight on his hands in November. It will be directly as a result of the upcoming US elections and its results. All are connected. Sow doubt and fear in France, bring violence to the fore. See??? this could happen to you in the US, a civil war…. But what would you have Macron do?? Submit to the far right and plunge Europe into a proper World War 3? IMO Le Pen will always do as Putin asks, she is his wh*** he just has to say the word and she will obey. And proximity to Russia is also a factor in this. Again as in the US the media is heavily involved too. Right now they are flirting with WW3 in Ukraine. My guess is that war won’t end until after November 2024. A LOT of decisions will be made after November 5th. Just my opinion and observations. Thanks for listening.

I sincerely think that Macron and Lepen are ready to sell the French system for money. I'm serious this time. The complicity of journalists is beginning to be revealed. I can only see an explosion of the 5th republic.

I sincerely believe that the financial system wants the skin of the population. I'm not a conspiracy theorist, you know me.

There's too much of a weird connection. We talk again about links and traffic with Kadafi (Libya)

I need to sit down seriously and look at my cards

[moranasgrave]

plug!connie gets jealous at a party and teaches you a lesson.

ok this is just a little plug connie drabble because i’ve been wanting to write about him for a while. i literally left my other notes at home with all my other characters sooo after this i’ll release a snippet of a chapter in my Eren story that will be “premiering” august 18th. kinda late i know but it’ll be worth it i want to have 10+ chapters written so i can release 2-3 at a time because i know how it feels to wait for something your reading especially on wattpad LMAO.

CONTENT! WARNING! 18+ MINORS DNI! NSFW CONTENT!

Fem black reader ofc, Choking,raw sex, angry sex, weed, alcohol, mild violence,fluff, bad language,and idk this won’t be proofread lmao.

Connie knew he fucked up. Tonight was Eren big summer bash party at his parents mansion. It was always the craziest party of the year, and the best spot for dealers to find knew customers for the year.

You how ever were livid with connie. You seen a girl texting his instagram on his phone saying “yea tmr at 3 is coo” while you guys were cuddling on the couch. You didn’t think he would cheat on you but something about it made you feel weird. Girls always hit him up begging to match with him. It made you feel, territorial.

Connie was gorgeous, those piercing hazel eyes and that flashy smile. Especially when he had his diamond bottom grillz in, fresh hair cut and that pretty bone structure. He also had that charm, he knew just the right thing to say to make you melt in his arms.

Right now though, you didn’t care how he looked. You were pissed off because he acts so nonchalant about girls messaging him like it’s no big deal. What if he actually takes the offer one day.

Whatever you didn’t care as you angrily got dress into your hot pink tube top dress. Cutely ruffled at the bottom looking like a miniskirt attached to a dress. Your black stocking that you were angrily taking a razor to. A black my chemical romance zip up hoodie left open. Finally those hot pink leg warmers with your cute little black mary jane flats.

Your hair in two low pig tail puffs with a side part, your favorite hair style. The obnoxiously huge black juciy couture bag filled with singles and a variety of perfume and makeup.

Connie wearing black cargo shorts with the studded black and silver belt you got him for his birthday. “stop trying to turn me emo”, he said laughing at the gift. “i’m notttt but you would look sooo hot if you were though”, you say with a suggestive smile.

He pairs those with a plain black zip up and some black converse. Silver rings bearing his veiny calloused fingers, and that NY cap tilted to the side like he always does. It made you even more mad that he chose to look sexy right now.

You guys get in the uber there because yall know yall will just end up sleeping over at erens like every year. The whole car ride you feel connie’s eyes burning the back of your head, because you turned away from him. He puts a hand on your thigh and lets out a big sigh. He knows tonight is going to be ridiculous.

As soon as you guys arrive at the huge front doors connie spins you around holding you by your waist. “Can you drop the fucking attitude already, i’m not tryna have you pissed at me all night over dumb shit.” You look at him with an amused expression on your face. “kiss my ass connie, you do you i’ll do me”, you say coldly. Before he can even respond your already strutting inside the doors.

‘This girl is about to get handled in a second’ connie thinks to himself.

You find sasha and basically knock her over as you run and jump into her arms. She already has shots lined up for you so you start going ham. Throwing back shots like it was water. Connie meets up with eren and jean to find out whose buying so he can make his deals.

A couple hours into the party you’re already pretty drunk. You decided to go and dance your heart out on the huge dance floor in the living room. The entire night you’ve been mean mugging connie when he would make eye contact with you. To make him mad you were even twerking all over sasha and mikasa, sasha catching all of it smoothly of course and mikasa looking nervously at connie trying not to make as much contact.

As you danced all over the floor alone sipping on a margarita sasha made you, a guy approach’s you.

He starts dancing closely around you until he suddenly grabs your waist. You push his hands off quickly slurring a weak ‘i have a boyfriend’ as you try and ignore him and continue to dance.

Connie who was on the couch smoking a blunt notices this and gets up from his seat. “Fuck off before i kick your ass i’m in a bad mood”, he says glaring at the guy.

You’ve seen connie get mad before but never anything too extreme. He usually knew how to keep a level head in situations like this. But tonight, you acted a fool and he wasn’t gonna let that slide.

The guy steps in connie’s face and says “or what exactly? i’m just tryna have a little fun man.”

You stop dancing and finally notice the two men are getting a little too close for comfort. this can’t be good. You go to tell connie that your okay but then you see connie’s arm raise and punch the shit out of that guy. He gets on top of the guy and just starts wailing on him. Eren and jean quickly run over to grab him off.

Connie’s face is flushed red, his eyes are low and he’s sweating. He pushed as jean and eren off and looks at you with his glossed over eyes bearing into your soul.

You run over to him shoes in hand as you took them off like two hours ago. “Connie what the fuck dude you didn’t have to beat him that bad and you know it”, you say aggravated because now everyone’s attention is on you two. “Shut the fuck up and come on we’re fucking going to bed Y/n”, he grabs your hand forcefully towards the door.

You pull back defiantly, “You go, IM not ready to sleep yet THANKS”. You start to head back to the dance floor when you feel his big hand wrap around your throat from behind. He leans down to your ear tightening his grip some. “We’re going upstairs and fixing that fucking attitude of yours before i snap”, he grits through his teeth.

You nod your head reluctantly, secretly getting excited about it. You been waiting for him to finally take you upstairs, you just refused to ask him. Everyone watches as you guides you upstairs still holding the back of your neck. “Take a picture or something you fucking FREAKS”, connie yells behind his shoulder.

The second you step into the room connie shut the door and locks it. He walks over to you picking you up and tossing you on the bed. You let out a small yelp and before you can protest he flips you over on the edge of the bed.

He slides your panties clean off ripping up your dress to show your exposed bottom half. He leans over top of you getting close to your ear again. “You’re gonna learn to listen to me y/n, you know i only want your crazy ass”, he rasps under his breath. You can feel his bulge twitching against your ass.

He leans back and slides his pants down to his ankles along with his boxers. He guides his dick towards your entrance, moaning softly as he rubs against your clit. You’re already soaking wet, the sounds of him mushing against you are loud. He slides in causing both of you to let out a moan. He starts pumping in and out of you slowly, the drugs in your system heightening your sensitivity.

He picks up his pace and now the room is filled with loud slapping and moaning as he reaches deeper and deeper inside you. He grabs your hair forcing you to stand up against him. He takes his phone from the side of the bed and starts recording you guys from the front. Your makeup is already running, eyes squeezed shut trying to focus on your orgasm. He slides out and flips you again into missionary position.

He flips the camera backwards zooming in on your face. Hair sticking to your sweaty forehead, mascara running down your eyes and your plump glossy lips parted from all the panting your doing. “god you’re so fucking sexy”, he says in between moans. He ends the recording and starts to go even faster making you arch your back off the bed in pleasure.

You feel the knot unfold quickly in your stomach and your filled with complete bliss as you both cum together. He flops on top of you with all his weight, out of breath and in a daze. He lifts his head up and gives you sweet kisses from your neck to your cheek then to your lips. The kiss being sloppy and filled with passion as if he’d been waiting all day to do this.

He rolls on the side of you and grabs his phone. He guides you to lay on top of him nuzzled in between his neck and shoulder. He goes to the video and posts it to his story. His main story. With your face covered with the heart eyes emoji of course. He writes ‘don’t bother hittin my dm this is my only girl 😏’.

He puts his phone back down and pulls you closer to his chest. “I…I love you y/n and i’ll never cheat on you i promise baby, don’t ever think otherwise again”, he whispers into your ear. Your still kind of out of it but you manage to mutter “I love you too connie”, before your eyes flutter shut.

He turns the light off with his phone and wraps the blanket around the two of you.

‘I love her but she is a trip’ he thinks to himself before he drifts to sleep, ignoring all the dms he’s getting on instagram.

[littleplantfreak]

MARI CONGRATS ON YOUR MILESTONE!! ♡＾▽＾♡

make sure to stay hydrated during all the request you're gonna receive <3 if i'm not too late could you yap about ume for me? specifically, his house husband skills with how amazing he is at cooking and looking after the people he loves, thank you!

Yes I can yap about his househusband skills i think till i'm blue in the face and TYSM!!! I'll drink water rn owu)/

-We all know he can cook, we've seen it done y'know? He dabbles in baking as well! He'll see a recipe online and is immediately sliding his phone towards you, asking your opinion on it. Takes into serious consideration if you have allergies/preferences or you just don't like how one ingredient goes with the others. You think it's just a in-passing thing, but the next day guess what's on the kitchen table? And he always perfects it, it's almost infuriating.

-Just when you couldn't think he could get any more perfect, he can clean pretty well too. Strong enough to move all the furniture when it needs to be vacuumed under, tall enough to reach the cobwebs on the ceiling or the tops of the shelves without a chair. (I'm just swooning onto the couch he just lifted with one hand)

-Even Ume has his days though, where he's a bit accident prone or messes up a meal. He's pretty good at covering his tracks and fixing his slip ups, but when you see him walking around with his foot bandaged and you ask why? He's not gonna lie to you, but he's super bashful telling you he knocked a bowl off the counter by accident onto said foot, breaking the bowl AND bruising himself. Or when you come home and it smells just slightly burnt and all the windows in the house are open. Takes a little guesswork but you end up figuring out the older couple next door started talking his ear off while he was waiting for some cookies to finish baking, and the fire alarm alerted him to the charred remains.

-A natural caregiver, loving people is what he's made for, at least in his head. Taking care of you when your sick or just need a mental health day is something he does with ease. Alone time? No problem, he has some errands to do. Wanna cuddle? Not even a question, he's already in bed with you regardless of germs or sickness. He is so in-tune with your needs, especially when you're not feeling well, that he does things before you even think to ask about them. Definitely babies you big time no matter what though. If you're miserable for some reason, I can see him Scooping you up in a blanket and just holding you like that in a loveseat.

-Even when it comes to family and friends, he's ever-present in making sure they're safe, happy, and cared for. Taking people leftovers if they've been having a tough time or just giving them a call to check in...he thrives on it.

-I figure I'd put kids at the end in case you wanted to skip over it? But yeah! Not necessarily your own kids, but he's just fantastic with them in general. I'm sure the neighborhood kids stop by all the time, checking in with him in the back where his garden is. He's one of the first they run to if someone gets hurt or there's a creep bothering them and also one of the first to ask for advice from. Sometimes I headcanon him being a social worker for kids and families but that's for another time

[misterier]

Hi! Can I request enemies to lovers relationship with Jack Marston and tall Male reader? (Or at least taller than him). It doesn't have to be long, head cannons are fine :)

oo yeah ofc!! I went for head cannons in storyish form so it hope it's not too goofy, also my dyslexic ass read john at first so sorry it took a bit

high honor jack marston is my pookie the idea of him with low honor hurts me so high honor it is

also sorry for pushing the charthur agenda but it's burned deep within my soul, I must release it

also spoilers ig for the first & second game but if your requesting jack you prolly already know all that

i grew up lovin' the marstons and they mean the world to me sorry if i get rambly and long with his hcs</3

Jack Marston<3

-With Jack, it's more rivels than actual enemies, and it likely starts when the two of you are teens; maybe you live in some ranch across from his.

-Your mothers or dads are friends, so they're a little concerned. As far as they know, two teenagers forced to hang out should be great friends.

-Jack is 100% a little mama's boy, so when he's not hiding out reading, he's helping her do housework and complaining about you. It's not like he's got a good reason to hate you either; he just doesn't like you.

-Abigail's heard, John's heard, Uncles heard, and even the dog has heard.

-The entire dinner table is tired of his constant whining about hating your 'annoying' ass.

-Hell, even his aunts have heard whenever they ask about his nonexistent social life, Mary-Beth seems to think it's a crush the way he gets so flustered, rambling on about how much he hates you, but he denies it in an instant.

-Equally, you hate him as well, bragging about your height difference. Every time you're forced over to his house to hang out with him in his room (despite his pleading to not leave him alone with you), you'll put his books on the highest shelves.

-His father was once given permission, and assuming some quality time together would fix your relationship, he takes the two of you fishing. (Jack, of course, complains, asking why he was stuck doing the two things he hates most, fishing and spending time with you.)

-During that trip, John warns you to look out for branches so you don't bash your head in. Jack prays you would so you'd shut up and stop looking at him like that.

-Whenever Charles is able to visit them, sometimes Jack will find him and his mother talking outside in the dead of night, speaking of a man he can only just barely remember the silhouette of--Jack sometimes is glad he can't remember those days when he sees how frustrated his father gets about his past—mostly when his mother mentions the man who had apparently been like his father's brother. It's a painful name to speak in their house, and he refuses to even ask anymore now that they hardly mention him anymore.

-The gist of you and Jack's fighting is just petty arguments and insults. His mother warns him about things like that, saying it's not healthy for a boy his age to be so bitter towards another who's done nothing to him, insisting he tries to make friends.

-He tries to listen to his mother; as much as he teases her, just like his father, he respects her greatly and looks up to her, and if she told him to do something, he'd do his very best to listen to her wishes.

-Jack does a bit better at keeping his insults to a minimum. The two of you are nothing near friends, but y'all slowly stop it with actual hurtful comments.

-Just like annoying ol' uncle grew on his father, he was beginning to tolerate your presence until he and his mother were taken by the government while his father hunted down his old 'family'.

-Once they're home, you're not around anymore, and neither are your parents. You moved due to fear of being caught up in all that, and he's bitter about it.

-The day John and Uncle die, your family sends their condolences.

-For as long as his mother is alive, he does his damnedest to keep the ranch alive and working despite her deteriorating health. Tilly visits a bit more when Abigail gets worse, and her husband tries to help—a respectable man even with his high class—though Jack refuses, wanting to take care of it all himself.

-The day his mother dies breaks him--the only blood family he had left.

-He enhatrets all his fathers' things, nobody to stop him from looking through it, he finds journals, and he reads the older one first confused by the handwriting that he was sure wasn't his fathers chicken scratch, but he reads it anyway, admiring each drawing and word, some even speaking about the writers conflicted feelings about still longing for a woman but beginning to feel himself crave a man, willing to let go of her if it means he has the chance to be happy again--queerness had never been something shamed upon or uncommon in his house, he'd heard of it from hangings and his parents speaking about it being wrong that they'd be hung for love--telling Jack that he shouldn't be afraid to love who he wants and to fight for it.

-The fancy writing nearly seems to abruptly stop when things begin to get dark. Switching to his father's writing gives him an appreciation for his father and what he's been through, but even through that, he can't help but crave revenge. He always was an angry young man.

-He wants to put Edgar Ross' death behind him, trying to be a functioning man of society as his mother wanted for him, though his hand still itched for his gun.

-The land was becoming too dry; there wasn't much he could keep alive, and he needed money, so he decided to try and find work. Not many would take him due to his father's name, so he usually hangs around the blackwater bar to sleep in the rooms above it, only visiting his home on weekends to take care of the house and the graves.

-Eventually he finds work, by some old fella speakin' about how desperate this man was for a ranch hand and how it was nearly sad how much they needed it.

-Late at night, he shows up on your doorstep, looking for work after all these years. You would have laughed in his face if it wasn't obvious how much both of you needed this.

-Similar to Bonnie and John's situation He lived on your property for a while, though there was enough room in your house for him, so he worked for you and slept in the guest room.

-There's no room to argue like you did as children. though only nineteen, the two of you are much more grown than you'd like to be with both of your families gone. Now it's only a few quips and jabs.

-There's no women working for your ranch, so you have to trade 'womanly' chores. Jack used to help his mother with hers, so he doesn't mind, but he forces you to help as well.

-You two become friends, despite still bullying each other a little. Him joking about you hitting your head when walking into the barn (you're tall, but not THAT tall), and you telling him his eyes will go bad from staring at those small print books all day.

-The closer friends you two become, the more possible your relationship is to become romantic. Neither of you are sure when you figured out you were in love with each other; it sort of just happened.

-You kissed his cheek goodnight once before you parted ways with him in the living room to return to your bedroom eary and it became tradition. For months, that was how the two of you parted. The next day, before he left to go back to his family's ranch to clean it up, he called you over to his horse—taller than you—for once and kissed your forehead before turning quickly and spurring his horse off.

-As socially awkward as he is, he's very open, flirting with you, not very romantic, but then again, you two aren't exactly romantic; if anything, your relationship is more of a mean friends with benefits kind of situation.

-If you genuinely want to call it a relationship, you'll have to bring it up to him, or he won't really notice or care.

-If you want to be lovers, he'll accept it. You two still have separate rooms, and yet you fall asleep in his most of the time.

-Even if you can read, he likes reading you, with his back against the headboard and your head on his shoulder. he likes feeling taller than you, though he obviously isn't.

-This man tried nailing broken boot heels to his to make him taller and ended up twisting his ankle and falling flat on his face.

-Learns to deal with and accept the fact your taller, though hes unnaturally bitter.

-Everytime he heads home, times becoming less frequent now. He sits at the foot of his mother's grave and talks about you and his life; he brought you once but never did it again, he prefers his visits to his family's graves to be private.

-Even years into your relationship, he won't stop praying you'll bash your head on the doorframe. The day you do, he marks it on his callender and calls it the day he became a happy man, ignoring your unofficial anniversary and calling it a close second.

[peraltiagoicons]

first chapter of the marauders x Derry girls fic @equippedtoloveis and I are writing is out bitches!!!

Do you have to let it linger? (5002 words) by Wraithsbastard Chapters: 1/25 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marauders Era (Harry Potter) - Fandom Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Regulus Black/James Potter, Mary Macdonald/Lily Evans Potter, Lily Evans / Mary MacDonald, Regulus Black & Sirius Black, Euphemia Potter/Fleamont Potter, Sirius Black & James Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter & Lily Evans Potter, Lily Evans & Remus Lupin, Mary Macdonald & Marlene McKinnon & Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter Characters: Sirius Black, Regulus Black, Lily Evans, James Potter, Mary Macdonald (Harry Potter), Euphemia Potter, Fleamont Potter, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Marlene McKinnon, Minerva McGonagall, Walburga Black (derogatory) - Character, Walburga Black Additional Tags: Inspired by Derry Girls (TV), Regulus Black & Sirius Black Have a Good Relationship, Lesbian Lily Evans, Remus Lupin is So Done, Pining, Mutual Pining, Regulus Black is a Little Shit, Sirius Black Being Sirius Black, Regulus is friends with the marauders, Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Awesome Euphemia Potter, No Lily Evans Bashing allowed, Lesbian Mary Macdonald (Harry Potter), Marlene Mckinnon being iconic, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Irish Marauders, Band Fic, Marauders are a Band (Harry Potter), warnings will be in the chapter, There probably won't be very much, Attempt at Humor, Sirius Black and James Potter being idiots, Author Is Sleep Deprived, lots of swearing Summary: “What's all this? I thought we were going to be individuals this year?” Lily demands when she sees the three sullen boys clad in blazers. “I wanted to, Lils, but my ma wouldn't let me.” James says with a shrug. There was just no getting Effie to change her mind sometimes. She was quite a stubborn mother, but a kind one nonetheless. “Well, I’m not being an individual on my own.” Lily says, already putting her blazer back on. She came prepared in case something like this happened. or Equippedtolove and I decided to write a Marauders fic that is 100% inspired by Derry Girls. We hope you enjoy the fic <3 We do not own the characters credits sadly go to Jk Rwling. Nor do we agree with her views. A good portion of the script is taken from Derry Girls TV series (we love you Derry Girls. Best show ever.)