#bc that writing also refers to me in the third person quite a bit

[archonsbane]

AND I TRY TO TALK REFINED

The one time Il Dottore speaks to you in another language, the one time he speaks to someone else in another language, and the one time you give him a taste of his own medicine.

pairing. dottore x reader

tags & content warnings. gn!reader. reader is the tsaritsa's child. reader is referred to by they/them. there's one (1) mildly suggestive sentence (and it's in a different language lol).

word count. 2.9k

author's note. so. i'm back from the dead. i have two fics for pantalone and one for diluc, around 8k+ words. (none of them are finished LMFAO) but of course i drop everything for this stupid ass man. the reader here is my tsaritsa’schild!reader, though this takes place before beauty is terror. this is set in the early days of their relationship and the start of dottore’s involvement in the fatui. reader's backstory is also implied here, but not outright stated. also i got inspiration from @fatuismooches lovely headcanons, though i strayed a bit far HAHA. thank you for letting me write this! and thank you to my two lovely delulu friends (you know who you are) bc i suddenly got into the mood to write because of them.  also, what is heavily implied to be the script of khaenri'ah in-game is based on latin, so i headcanon that latin is the language of khaenri'ah. also i had to sneak in a tsh reference lmfao it was too perfect not to. i promise i don't include it in all my fics it just so happens to be perfect for certain situations huhu. also i hope you guys catch all the little details i put in! reader and dottore have always been like this lol the title is from 'talk' by hozier.

You are undoubtedly the worst teacher Dottore has ever had, bar none. 

Flighty, distracted, and prone to seamlessly maneuvering to an entirely different topic without blinking an eye, leaving him dumbfounded. Your teaching sessions, if they could be called that, are filled with constant interrogations of his life and large infusions of food. Half the time you aren’t even teaching him, you’re simply rambling about whatever it is you ramble about (he’s learned to tune you out, partly because he doesn’t care and partly because he can’t understand what you’re saying). He is truly reconsidering forgoing learning Snezhnayan — at the pace you're going, he might as well take his chances and learn by himself.  

“But Mother said,” you remind him, petulantly, like a small child. Yes, the Tsaritsa commanded him to learn Snezhnayan, and commanded you to teach him, but he is greatly tempted to ask her to send another teacher. It has only been two weeks since your lessons begun and he might truly go mad. Sometimes he thinks this might be the worst thing a divine being has ever inflicted on him.

In truth, he already knows Snezhnayan, but only enough to hold a polite conversation. It is his least favorite of the languages he learned from his teachers in the Akademiya, and anyway, he never quite had a deftness for tongues. He is always most at home working with his hands, destroying and creating physical matter, covered in dust and soot, cracking open the world’s secrets like an egg. But the Tsartisa willed him to learn, and he is nothing if not a scholar. 

“But Mother said,” he mocks, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. He’s learned that you have no convictions about his personality. If anything, you seemed to embrace it. Whereas he dons a respectful — as respectful as he can conjure, anyways — mask with the Jester and the Tsaritsa, it’s… looser, with you. Still, he is careful not to cross the line. He is only allowed this because he amuses you. You've been treating him like some sort of pet to be played with whenever you desire since his coming here. “Your mother also said to teach me how to speak Snezhnayan, but this is the third time you’ve called for snacks in three hours.” 

You flash a lazy glare at him and go back to eating your beloved pastilas. “You require a tremendous amount of effort to teach.” You’ve switched back to speaking the common tongue, obviously for his sake. “You’re a horrible student.” 

“You’re a horrible teacher!” 

You sniff and take another bite of your pastry. “You’re just really bad at learning.” 

For that, you get a glance heavenward. He is tempted to simply throttle you and be done with it. Treason seems like a fair price to pay for shutting you up. But he considers his options and decides that he would rather not be on the receiving end of your mother’s wrath — it’s too fucking cold here already. Still, greatly offended by this statement, he vents out his anger by cursing at you.

In the language of Sumeru. 

He does not really think of it; his use of his mother tongue has greatly decreased since coming here, but even then, it simply rolls off his tongue as naturally as water flows from a river's mouth.

Your brows shoot up. You open your mouth, pause, and for a moment he fears he is in danger of being exiled or thrown in the dungeon. But then you cock your head to the side. “What does that mean?” You ask. 

An idea unravels in his mind, sparkling with mischief. “It means you’re bad at teaching.” 

You frown. “For some reason, I feel like you’re lying.” 

He curses at you again. Your frown deepens. There is something so satisfying about the way those frustrated lines burrow into your face. When he does it a third time, you actually put down the pastila. 

“What does it mean?” You demand. “You aren’t saying anything bad, are you?” 

It means you’re an insufferable little bastard of mean intelligence and he hopes you fall into a ditch, so yes, he definitely is saying something bad. “It means you’re the most gorgeous, most wonderful person in the world,” he says, sarcasm dripping from the syllables. When you look genuinely taken aback, he lets out a cruel, derisive scoff. “It means you should trust me more.” 

“That seems like a horrible idea.” 

He shrugs and reaches over to take one of the pastilas, light pink with a white, foamy top, vaguely aware that another one of your language lessons has gone considerably off course. Perhaps that was too light a description. It shot in one direction and came speeding back the other way. “Suit yourself, Your Imperial Highness.” 

You smack his hand away, gently. Almost too gently. “Those are mine.” 

He eats it, anyway, and learns many new colorful Snezhnayan curses for it, though he detects no real annoyance in your voice. You ring for another batch of desserts. He counts it as a successful lesson. 

He continues speaking in Sumerian when you're near. It’s the greatest of treasures, seeing you frown and demand to know what he had just uttered in your presence. Sometimes he just says the first phrase that enters his head, most times he insults you and relishes in your clueless blinking. You can't do the same to him — he's been picking up on Snezhnayan at an exponential pace, and he's made sure to memorize all of the insults and swears first. Obviously. It’s his talent for machinations that he prides himself on, but lately, he’s been deriving vicious pleasure from the fact he can speak twenty languages, though it never mattered much to him before. It’s a good, safe outlet for his annoyance whenever you’re near, which you seem to always be, nowadays. 

Even outside the language ‘lessons’ (the word lessons being used extremely lightly) you seem to trail him wherever he goes. Ambushing him in the halls, materializing in the laboratory, and in general trailing him like some attention-starved puppy. He resents it, resents the stars that float through your eyes whenever he enters your view, resents the way you immediately disengage from whatever it was that you were doing to attach yourself to him, all smiles. 

He actively avoids you, but somehow you keep running into him. On purpose or accidentally, he has no idea. He suspects it is the former.

Today is one of those days. You’re by his side, again, chatting happily about… something. He’s trying to tune you out, focusing on the long walk back to his laboratories after a meeting with the Tsaritsa. He needs to do something about that, it’s woefully inconvenient to have to walk a mile every time she calls on him. Some sort of contraption that could go up and down easily would be of great use, and he wouldn’t have to climb so many fucking stairs.

Then — it happens. In your excitement, you bump into some government official accompanied by another, what his role is Dottore does not know and does not care to, but he must be quite high up if he allows himself to glare at you for an instant before it disappears into a cool stare. Or maybe he just has a lot of gall.

"Oh, my apologies sir," you murmur, ducking your head. 

"Quite alright, Your Highness," he says smoothly, "have a good day." He turns his back and starts to mutter to his companion, their heads bent together, completely unaware that with your godly senses and his recent enhancements to his body, you both can hear every word.

"How clumsy," the first man tuts, "what does their mother teach them? She's been too soft on them."

"She lets them run amok doing whatever they please. The other day, they—"

"—yes, I heard. Look at those clothes, aren't they too plain for the heir?"

His companion makes an agreeing noise. "And the company they keep… " 

Dottore doesn't particularly care about what other people think of him, and perhaps if it was only the last sentence that had been uttered he wouldn't have said a word, but the tirade of their complaints makes irritation, absurdly, flare inside him. He whips his head back to their retreating figures, and you throw him a glaring warning, so he clenches his jaw and stays where he is. He isn't one to do nothing, however. 

“Kol khara,” he says to them, viciously. Eat shit. He hears you stifle a sound that might be a laugh and briefly wonders why exactly you would laugh. 

The men turn back around. “Excuse me?” The first one says. 

“Nothing,” he says, curtly, his eyes like sharp daggers, “go on." They throw each other confused glances but say nothing further, going further down the hall until he can no longer see their backs. You both stay in the middle of the now-empty hallway, staring silently off into the distance.

You’ve never been able to contain your curiosity for long. After a good minute of silence, you turn inquisitive eyes on him. He’s been expecting your question.

"What did you say?" You ask.

He shrugs; makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Nothing."

You narrow your eyes. "I know it isn't nothing. It was something bad, right? You've said it to me before.” Clever you, he thinks briefly. Nothing gets past you. When he stays enclosed in icy silence, you press on further, “I won’t be mad. It doesn’t bother me — I think it’s funny. Just tell me.” He has no idea why you would ever think it’s funny. Nonetheless, he stays silent. 

You try again. “Tell me.” 

“No.” 

“Please?” 

“No.” 

“Tell me,” you say again, but this time you slip into the voice of the noble, unshakeable heir to Winter. The two words are a command, and they leave no room for argument. He must follow. 

He sighs and runs a hand down his face. “It means I want them to eat shit.” 

A moment of silence passes and Dottore wonders if he should start running. Then, you start to laugh. A small laugh, so small he almost thinks he could cup it in his hands and never let it go. But he recognizes it as different from the laughs you’ve given him before. This one is warm and sweet, conjured from the belly upwards. Summer in a sound. 

He tries very hard not to smile when he says, “you aren’t mad?” 

“No,” you say, still laughing, “I suppose I do deserve it.” He silently agrees. “Anyways, after coming to my defense, I forgive you.” 

He snarls, that sudden irritation reviving itself. “I wasn’t coming to your defense.” 

You shrug, not looking bothered at all. “Fine. Defending yourself and by extension — and complete coincidence — me.” 

He decides it is best not to argue, and listens quietly as you walk with him back to his laboratory, chatting happily away once more. If you notice that over the next few days, his outbursts toward you decrease, you say nothing of it. And if you notice he is insulting other people more in other languages, seemingly for the sole purpose of making you laugh, you say nothing of it, too. 

You’re speaking Sumerian. 

Fluent Sumerian. Rapid-fire Sumerian, without blinking or stumbling over your words. Clean, pure Sumerian, speaking everything with the perfect enunciation of a noble. You don’t notice him behind you, utterly bemused, as you speak to a foreign dignitary from his homeland. The First drags him out of the underground labs from time to time in order to socialize and familiarize himself with the political atmosphere, but Dottore lets you do all the work for him. You engage in polite small talk, though delivered with much more enthusiasm than necessary. But the words are barely intelligible in his head. It isn’t possible that you’ve learned how to speak fluent Sumerian in such a short about of time. He will begrudgingly admit your brightness, small as it is, but even he cannot master a language within a few months. Which means there must only be one conclusion. 

When you notice him, your face morphs into one of surprised panic. Oh. He’s sure his fury is plain to see. It’s at that precise moment the dignitary — Dottore does not see the point in blessings but, Archons bless her — chooses to excuse herself, leaving you open and without a proper excuse to escape with. 

“You can speak Sumerian,” he says, plainly, having immediately taken the empty spot at your side. You take  cautious, half-step backwards. 

You look both amused and slightly abashed. 

He grits his teeth. “For how long?” 

“... since I was five." A pause. You look thoughtful. "Actually, it was your Greater Lord Rukkhadevata who first taught me."

This new piece of information surprises him so much that the flames of his anger are snuffed out, if only for a second. Then they come back raging, and he cannot contain it.

"You knew what I was saying this entire time!" He rages, jabbing an accusing finger at you. You cringe away. "You could understand all of it!"

"Not all of it—" When you see the exasperation that crosses his face, you smile. "Alright. Most of it." 

You begin to walk away, but he furiously follows you. "You lied to me!"

"You were cursing me to my face. I think it's a fair exchange." You shrug with one shoulder, eyes sparkling with mischief. "It was funny, anyway. Your cluelessness, that is." And then, "you should know, now that you know — I can speak the main languages of each nation." 

"I can too," he says haughtily, raising his chin up at you. 

"Really?" You laugh. "Cubitum eamus?"

"What?"

"Nothing." 

"What does that mean?" He demands, only half aware he's repeating the interaction you once had over a plate of pink and white sweets. He's never heard a language sounding quite like that. Perhaps it could be a dialect, but it doesn't sound similar to any currently existing language. "What language is that?"

You deliver your coup de grâce with such smooth smugness on your face. "It's Khaenri'ahn." The dead language. 

He blinks. Opens his mouth dumbly. And lunges.

As he chases you through the halls, your laughter floats warm and clear in the frigid winter air. You easily outpace him, but perhaps out of pity, you let him catch you and drag you to — well, he doesn't exactly know where he's going, only that he does not want to let you escape his rage. You thrash in his arms like a trapped animal, still controlled by a laughing fit all the while. 

"I hate you," he grumbles later, when you've calmed him with a slice of strawberry cheesecake from the kitchens. He's still quite angry, but not angry enough to not accept your peace offering. "You're horrible."

"So are you." 

A pause, then, "Teach me Khaenri'ahn," he says, leaning forward, a bright idea sparking in his chest. "There's so many texts I have yet to decipher — you have no idea the knowledge I can grasp if you teach me." He thinks of the old Ruin Golems in Sumeru. How hard it was to learn how to control them! But with your help, with your knowledge, he could crack the world open like an egg and watch its secrets spill like yolk. 

"I thought I was a bad teacher."

"Bad is better than none at all."

The utterly offended look that flashes on your face teases a grin from his mouth. "You're horrible."

"So are you."

He thinks he sees the corner of your mouth involuntarily curl upward. You twirl your fork in your fingers, humming thoughtfully. "Why should I?" 

"... For the pleasure of contributing to my research?" The look you give him tells him you're not at all convinced. He continues, "My research that is so very essential to the success of this nation?"

You scoff, but you cannot deny it. He would not be alive if he wasn't useful to Snezhnaya.

"You'll owe me," you tell him. 

He shrugs. "There's worse things in the world. Let's start."

It startles you somewhat. "What, now?"

"Yes, now. Unless you have other things to do?" 

You don't. Your language lessons with him already ended when he reached an acceptable mastery over Snezhnayan according to your mother, and he knows that though you have a schedule (mysterious and utterly incomprehensible though it is — not even he has been able to figure it out), you'd drop everything in an instant if something else interests you. Your other engagements are often boring things, too, and the only duty you ever truly commit to are the strange missions your mother sends you on, ones that could go for months on end. He's fairly certain you'll acquiesce to his request.

You pretend to consider it, before shrugging with hardwon carelessness and saying, "Fine."

You're exactly the same. Flighty, distracted, and prone to seamlessly maneuvering to an entirely different topic without blinking an eye. Half the cheesecake is eaten before you even start on the alphabet, and the journey to that is filled with endless detours that consist of bickering, fighting over the (large) cake, and kicking each other like children under his work table. His intelligence is insulted more times in half an hour than in his entire years of study at the Akademiya.

Dottore decides, with solid determination, after eating the last slice of cake, finally learning the pronunciation of the vowels and consonants, and being on the receiving end of an onslaught of Khaeri’ahn curses he truly cannot understand — which is horribly ironic considering the past few weeks — that he might as well beg the Jester for lessons instead, and no one can do a damn thing about it. He tells this to you, chin up, resolute and unwavering in his declaration. 

He never does get around to doing that. 

[calummss]

Sheldon Cooper Blurb

masterlist

summary: sheldon’s hot new gf pays him a visit

pairing: fem! reader x sheldon cooper

words: 600

why i wrote this? bc jim parsons is so attractive to me and no one writes fics about him

Raj, Howard, Leonard where gathered together in front of the TV, their eyes glued onto the screen showing the newest unreleased footage of Star Wars. Absorbed into their world, a knocking on the door was heard.

Knock knock

Leonard stood up only to be ambushed by a half-jogging Sheldon, a rare sight for mankind, as he went towards the door. ‘That will be for me.’

Sheldon opened the door to reveal the prettiest girl any of the boys had seen. Their mouths gaping at her as she hugged Sheldon to greet him, Sheldon accepting the hug. Second weirdest thing to have happened in the apartment since Sheldom speed walked to the door.

‘Sheldon, who is this?’ Leonard asks, his tone between sweet and hostile.

‘Yes, Sheldon, who is this?’ Howard repeated, his usual sarcasm sweeping his words. ‘You didn’t happen to tell her that you are Sheldon Cooper.’

‘Well of course! Meeting Sheldon Cooper is a great honour, you know when I was—‘

‘Introduce us,’ Leonard cut Sheldon off, taken a back a bit.

‘Ah yes. Meet Y/n, my girlfriend .’ Sheldon introduced you, as you gave them a small wave, the three boys staring at you like Sheldon had given them amazing news but all they did was look shocked, their eyes and mouths never shutting. ‘I met Y/n at the Cheesecake Factory after Penny got my order wrong. I don’t know how that happened since I always order the same thing but one's simple mind can be overwhelmed with orders I suppose, even if it was only us there…’

‘Hi, I’m Y/n.’

‘Your Penny’s friend?’ Howard asked.

‘Yes.’

‘And Penny made me go on a date with Bernadette?’ He stared ahead of him, eyes almost popping out of their sockers

Sheldon turned his head, unaware of how to react to Howard’s outburst.

You also gave Sheldon a confused look to which he replied, ‘No worries, Social interaction with a spark of unsolicited germ exchange.’

‘So how did a theoretical physicist pick her up?’ Leonard gaped at the pair.

‘Oh I didn’t pick her up. I think you’re referring to is how we met?’

‘Yes, Sheldon…’

Suddenly Penny bolted through the door, phone in hand, ‘Sheldon has a girlfriend!? Y/n it’s you?’

‘If I may resume to Leonard’s question, I was minding my own business staring at the bird I was sure was out to kill me when she walked up to me with the words: You’re cute. I want you. Quite demanding if I might add.’ Sheldon gave you a brief look. ‘Straight to the point which is just right up my alley.’

‘You went up to Sheldon?’ Howard checked in on the facts with you.

‘Yes.’

‘I’m sorry what?’ He replied, his eyes crossing.

‘Have you met him? Like met him?’

‘Yes.’

‘So you know he’s an extremely arrogant, narcissistic, ruthless, entitled, self-righteous, cold, condescending, selfish, pompous person, right?’ Howard said.

‘He’s also cute, lanky and gets me horny just doing his silly physics rants so if you don’t mind,’ You grabbed Sheldon’s hand, third weirdest thing to have happend in the apartment, ‘I have to give him something else to think about,’

The mouths couldn’t have been wider.

‘But today is game night,’ Sheldon whined.

‘Sheldon…’

Sheldon avoided eye contact, his eyes darting across the room.

‘Sheldon.’

‘Yes, Ma’am.’ He responded immer, holding your hand and following you to his bedroom, leaving Raj, Howard, Leonard and Penny alone.

‘Did Sheldon just bring the hottest girl in the state of California through this door?’ Raj said.

‘Yes.’ They all said union.

‘And he’s getting sex even though he didn’t ask?’

‘Yes.’

‘Dammit.’ Howard hissed.

[bluespring864]

backstory or info on the latest? (or any you'd like to talk about)

(The ask game is "background/info on any story of your choice" and I am talking about when you think you're done (you've just begun)

Well, I mean... someone decided to announce a coaching partnership :))) So of course I wanted to write my version of how that could have come about. And I still think it's quite funny that I assumed Novak would text ahead before calling and then they confirmed that something like that happened (or rather that Novak texted that Andy should call him bc Andy wasn't answering his phone :D)

I knew I wanted them to meet somewhere to discuss the coaching partnership and considering nothing had leaked to the media it could logically only be at one of their houses. I quickly decided that Andy would be the one to ask Novak to come to his place (because Andy was the one who needed to be convinced). And the very first idea I had, probably the first lines I wrote down indicated that Judy was somehow involved. That idea popped into my head because quite out of the blue she congratulated Novak on his run to the final in Shanghai on social media, which made me think she might have known something was afoot.

I can't remember at all when I decided that there was some unresolved past between them, I think that just happened while writing, but I immediately liked it because it gave me a lot of options to play with when it came to Andy's "lovers?" joke on the goodbye post he wrote to Nole at the Olympics. As you know by now I don't plan much at all. Really, the only other thing I vaguely knew I would include was the practice and them hitting together for a bit. Well, I also knew there would be a chat with Kim at some point but the details of how that came about in the story and where they would meet and what they would talk about did just happen to the story as i was writing it.

Initially, I wanted to have Richard Gasquet be the player who smuggled wine into Roland Garros as a junior, but he didn't play the event in the year I needed, so I made Gael and Jo-Wilfred the culprits instead. By the way, Andy and Nole both lost in the third round at the 2003 French Open boy's singles (Nole, however, played qualifying, while Andy was the 14th seed). Novak references Andy being a terrible cook, which Andy has admitted to on TV (in Mary Berry's presence, because he has no shame). I've already told you but Andy saying "Thank you. I appreciate that." when someone says something really nice to him came from me witnessing it in person once and subsequently noticing he does that every time he gets a compliment.

Okay, that's everything that comes to mind for now for this story! Thank you so much for the ask <3 I always enjoy doing these.

[madewithonerib]

I love really honest commentary, it is refreshing as though this person were in the same room. Do you know what I mean? It's someone you want to hear from again bc they are not holding back what they are thinking in real time or over time.. Toy Story 5 is set for 2025, but I was a bit concerned seeing this photo, "What is happening Tom"

When I was younger, I remember barely listening to all my English Professors go off on a tangent about not wanting to read another piece that lacks a voice or opinion bc it is both thoughtless & lazy writing. At the time I didn't pay much heed bc I never knew the difference, despite their laborious explanations. But recently I believe I stumbled upon what they were enraged about, I have found boring conversations lacks personal exposure.

SNOOZE this is our default mode..trying to be too safe.

Tom Reedy: I saw the DaVinci Code this afternoon, and it was even worse than I had heard or read. Tom Hanks, who is usually a pleasant enough presence although no great actor, grimaces through it as if he has had a stroke and is limited to only one or two expressions. The story doesn't make sense, the plot is full of holes and obvious contradictions, and the clues are obviously made up by someone who has done too many acrostics without finishing them. The last scene reminded me of a cross between Close Encounters of the Third Kind and Village of the Damned. Even Ian McKellan and Audrey Tautou couldn't save this junker.

R01: Hm, well, I think many people react more strongly one way or another, depending on how strongly they feel about the "message." I found the movie okay, reasonably diverting, but, as you say, full of plot holes. The twists were poor at best, the arguments forced, etc. I too found Hanks unusually weak in this role, not a believable professor, but McKellan and Tautou were strong enough to carry it for him (as were some quite good actors in lesser roles), so it ended as a minorly successful entertainment. At least the producers didn't make the mistake (or not much, anyway) of "Bonfire Of The Vanities" that tried to create a PC movie out of an anti-PC book.

Tom Reedy R02: Anybody who reads a message into a piece of pulp fiction like this is living in a blurred reality. Like many anti-Stratfordians, as a matter of fact. But what else can you expect from a species whose average powers of discernment is just . . . well . . . average?

A Stratfordian is someone who believes that William Shakespeare, a native of Stratford-upon-Avon, England, wrote the plays and poems traditionally attributed to him. The term can also refer to a resident of Stratford-upon-Avon or other towns named Stratford. The debate over the authorship of Shakespeare's works is ongoing, with some scholars and researchers trying to get the academic community to take it seriously. Anti-Stratfordians, or those who believe that someone other than Shakespeare wrote the plays, often point to the following arguments: [a] Shakespeare's hometown was a cultural backwater that couldn't have nurtured a genius.  [b] Shakespeare's education was insufficient to write the plays, as he would have needed access to a thorough education. However, there is also evidence that supports Shakespeare's authorship, including: [a] A 1602 complaint that sketched the Shakespeare arms, which entitled the Stratford man to call himself "gentleman". [b] Two 1601 legal documents that list "William Shakespeare gentleman" as a tenant of the Globe playhouse. [c] Shakespeare's will, which left bequests to his "fellows" John Heminges, Richard Burbage, & Henry Condell of the King's Men. Some famous people who have voiced support for alternative authors include Mark Twain, Helen Keller, Sigmund Freud, and Walt Whitman.

Art Neuendorffer R03: usually a pleasant enough presence although no great actor...

. 2001 Nominated Oscar for: Cast Away (2000) . 1999 Nominated Oscar for: Saving Private Ryan (1998) . 1995 Won Oscar for: Forrest Gump (1994) . 1994 Won Oscar for: Philadelphia (1993) . 1989 Nominated Oscar for: Big (1988)

Village of the Damned (1960) http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0054443/

Tagline: Beware the STARe that will paralyze THE WILL OF THE WORLD

<>

<<Originally begun in 1957 as an American picture to star Ronald Coleman, MGM shelved the project, because it was deemed potentially inflammatory and controversial, specifically due to its sinister depiction of immaculate conception

The blond wigs that the children wear had a built-in dome to give the impression that they had a larger than normal cranium>> ………………………………………………… [first lines] Prof. Gordon Zellaby(George Sanders): [on telephone] Good morning. Uh, would you get me Major BERNARD at his Whitehall number? Thank you.

[last lines] Prof. Gordon Zellaby(George Sanders): [voiceover] A brick wall… a brick wall… I must think of a brick wall… a brick wall… I must think of a brick wall… a brick wall… brick wall… I must think of a brick wall… It's almost half past eight… brick wall… only a few seconds more… brick wall… brick wall… brick wall… nearly over…

a brick wall…

. SNOUT-THOMA(s): You can nEVER bring in a WALL . [SOUTHAM(p)TON] What say you, BOTtom? . BOT(tom): Some man or other must present WALL : and let him . have some PLASTER , or some loam, or some rough-cast . about him, to signify WALL; and let him hold his . fingers thus, and through that cranny shall

. Pyramus and Thisby whisper.

__________- //// _________- (o o) . _________oOO()OOo_______________ . ||||||||| . |||||||||_ . ||!!|!!|!_ . ||||||||| . |||||||||. ||!!|!!|! . . Titus Andronicus Act 5, Scene 1 . LUCIUS Say, WALL-eyed slave, whither wouldst thou convey . This growing image of thy fiend-like face?

. Why dost not speak? what, deaf? not a word?

Art Neuendorffer

[jackassbroadcast]

Hello im a Tommy enthusiast who watched that one stream where he monologued to foolish for like hafe an hour bc i heard it was a cool stream or wtv to realize how much amazing character moments it had that barly anyone in this damn fandom is talking about so ill fucking do it

(Only after finishing this i realized i wrote 1.7k words LOL OOPS)

If u dont know what in talking about its this stream (apologies for linking a clips channel the actual vod on foolish's channel is deleted by now)

Also heads up /rp /dsmp every time i refer to someone here by name is their character unless stated otherwise bc writing c! Before every name Is tiring LOL

Also // suicidal idealization , death mentions

The conversation starts off with foolish and tommy mining for Wilbur, and foolish questions how simply mining will solve the problem to which Tommy reponds with "they dont get solved, do they? It just ends uo with some madman screaming 'Hes solved it!' And now look at him." And how he wants to "prevent the problem before it goes outta hand" something that clearly references Wilbur and his destruction of lmanburg, which paired with him collecting stone for Wilbur as the way to stop said problems he believes if he does anything he can for Wilbur and support him by his side enough this time around, that he wont do anything like thay again, which as im writing this makes be realize by doing that we learn hes blaming himself for what happened to Wilbur in November 16th and pogtopia and a whole, by not being enough for Wilbur in his mind.

The conversation continues, foolish off hand asks why would tommy want to stop Wilbur? Weren't they friends at some point? To which tommy leads foolish to lmanburg and tells him the story of the nation (how it was him and Wilbur's nation, how they made it to espace dream's iron fist and how they held an election "which puts your life on the line, which is good- if you're confident but- perhaps we were too confident", how they lost)

Tommy: "You know the phrase: 'treat other how you wanna be treated', foolish? People dont ever listen to it. Wilbur- he decided he wanted to be treated poorly so he treated everyone around him poorly "

This Tommy quote, to me at least, so so amazingly strong in conveying how understanding he is? To the world around him. Like-

I have not seen one person bring this quote up, and yet its (at least to me) shows such growth and understanding in Tommy i saw little to nothing like it in other streams. It shows he understands, he knew Wilbur didnt change just because, he knows he was struggling, that he thought everyone around him were againt him, were going to abandon him the first chance theyll get- and he thought he deserved it. So he, as a last way to defend himself against that, hurt them first, abandoned them first, so theyll see how much of a 'bad' person he was and take him out- and tommy saw right through that, possibly understanding it more after exile.

This next qoute was talked about much more but i still wanna bring it up

Foolish: "Do you believe in second chances?"

Tommy: "Oh, no I don't really believe that its not really a thing for me foolish its just that-" *sigh* "- i believe everyone has a little bit of good in then and this is not about giving him a second chance or a third chance- its not about *chances* foolish. Its about not giving up on the poeple you care about. "

Which. I mean. I dont know how healthy that mindset is, but comign from Tommy it makes so much sense.

Techno, tubbo, eret, sapnap. These are all people Tommy used to be extremely close to, had either a war or had been betrayed by them, and yet still found it in his heart that he still cares for them, with all of these, they did horrendous things, that hurt tommy physically and mentally, while also not being once or twice, but a contentious thing, but while tommy is to this day still effected by their actions he still found it in himself to forgive, because he knows he fucked up too, a lot, and he knoes they learned from their mistakes just as he had (except c!techno FUCKKK c!techno mf doesnt learn SHITTT) and he knows, when the time comes he knows hed want the people he hurt to forgive him too. (And he wants Wilbur to do the same)

Next qoute i will cut to a couple parts because its really so good and full of character i had to bro

Foolish: "Do you consider yourself to be the good guy or the bad guy?"

Tommy: "It really depends who you ask, isn't it? Yknow? If you asked dream he'd say im *his little toy that he plays with* you know? It doesnt.."

This part really stunned me when i first heard it because, and correct me If im wrong, but i dont think tommy ever acknowledged how dream sees him, and  how right he has his viewpoint too. Just the fact tommy is so *painfully* aware of how dream doesnt even see him as a person anymore but just a toy to mess around with for a while than just throw it away when it get too boring really hurt me. Someone give this kid a hug

(Continued) Tommy: "...foolish, honestly? I used to consider myself 'the good guy', you know? The fuckin'- second in command! But these past- these past like six months or so, foolish, everything got so much harder than it was before. Because before it was just us vs bad guys, it was all so clear! But- its not been 'clear' for so long, right? It wasn't; 'these are the bad guys! These are the good guys!' Now it's : 'he's doing this and it makes him a bit worse-' i mean, it all got so complicated, so- i don't know. Depends who you ask."

He says this, in response to foolish asking if hes a good guy- but its awfully similar to if Wilbur asked him if they were the bad guys. Because foolish just asked about him, and yet in his answer tommy made sure to keep using the words "us, he's, guys" as if hes not really talking about himself, as if hes explaining how Wilbur was wrong. Which he was. Also something interesting ive noticed, he says "the last 6 months or so", which indicated that with Wilbur he knew better to follow his word and leadership- with Wilbur he was always on the right side but when he lost him he felt much more lost alone, and couldn't trust himself enough to be on the "right side" .

Foolish: "I dont know, it all seems strange because just from, you know- hearing from others and, you know, learing a little bit, its seems like you've been the hero, you've been the villain, the conqueror, the savior, and, even now, i have no idea what you exactly are."

Tommy: "that's up to you to decide, isn't it? Im just- *uh*  i dont know. These days, foolish, I'm a little weaker than i used to be"

Foolish couldn't be more right with what he said, another example of this we see where a character acknowledges tommy never sticks to one thing us Charlie when calling him "tommy fron nowhere" which shows more how he cant stick to one thing, during the course of him on the server he had been friends and enemy with nearly everyone, been on pretty much all sides, and while never really intentionally, being in the center of conflict. When foolish says he doesnt know who tommy is anymroe at this point and all Tommy says in return is that "hes a little weaker than he used to be" does to show he misses who he used to be, with lmanburg, with Wilbur, when he knew who he was, now he doesn't know who he is anymore, but still so desperately want to be more demonstrated by the lines coming rigth after that one:

(Continued) Tommy: "..I'm not- I'm now who i want to be, but-"

Foolish: "Being honest with you, Tommy, that's the same case for me as well."

Tommy: "...heres the thing, foolish, unlike you i dont really have a choice. I have to try and be who i want to be, because if i dont, very bad things are gonna happen in this server. And now that Wilbur's back i can't- quite frankly *no one* can risk that. So i dont really have a choice."

Tommy want's to change- he wants to be better than he is now, to be closer to who he used to be, no matter how impossible that might be, but he also sees it as an immediate thing, he wants to change now, or asap, which is why hes collecting stone for Wilbur in the first place- old him would've done that with ease just because Wilbur asked and he wants to have that back so badly, asap. The way he talked about this reminded me of when he tried getting over his trauma stream before he went in the prison to kill dream: he knew he wasnt the best but he tried getting over that asap to go kill dream asap. He didnt wanna take the long road of years of healing and instead thought he could get over it just like that, and that experience clearly didnt teach him anything because now hes trying to slide back to the relationship he and Wilbur used to have and ignoring the drastic changes they both had plus the bad moments that were the reason they feel out in the first place, or maybe he knows, but at this point, after everything that happened to him and the server, he doesnt care anymore? He knows hes not the same he was and he'll never be the same, because thats not how it works, but his mentor, president, big brother is back after so long tommy felt so lost and alone he thinks maybe, this time around, with Wilbur, he could try and be better again.

[oogaboogasphincter]

Hotel, Motel, Holiday Inn (Ezra x f!reader)

Summary: Staying in a hotel on Puggart Bench while in between expeditions has given you and Ezra a lot of time to develop your relationship both emotionally and physically. On your last night before you depart for your next trip together, you decide to try out one of Ezra’s kinks. Your heartstrings aren’t the only things that will be getting tied up this evening. 

Word Count: 6.8k+

Rating: E (explicit) 18+ ONLY! because this is like 80% smut

Warnings: mild allusion to a rocky relationship from this oneshot (both partners have made up and are now in an established relationship), smut, soft-ish bondage (f gets tied up), oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (obvi use protection irl please), dirty talk, swearing, a hand on a throat but no choking, one (1) instance of ✨spitting✨, questionable kink shaming??💀(a joke is made about daddy kinks), comma splice, atrocious metaphor and repetitive sentence structure galore. also no beta reader, and reader uses she/her pronouns and is afab. 

Author’s Note: this is my first smut fic! i really appreciated all of the positive feedback that i got on my first fic (💚), so i thought i would do a smutty follow-up to it! if you haven’t read it and you’d like to, you can read it here. i tried my best to make this fic readable as a standalone oneshot though, so if you’d like to do that, that’s cool too! :) i think the only things new readers need to know are that Ezra’s nickname for the reader is Goose, and The Blue is a moon, like The Green, that Ezra, Cee and the reader traveled to in my last fic. also i reference the traffic light system a lot more in this fic than i have personally read in other fics, just because i feel like it’s a great way of checking in on your partner during sex. i know it might get a lil annoying after a while, but i think it’s important to keep it up. i also wanted to include it in my first fic bc even though i might not use it explicitly in my next fics, i want it to be understood that I think it’s super important to continue to check on your partner, etc. also i apologize if the smut isn’t “realistic”, as your writer is 100% a virgin skjfskdj💀 i don’t think that means that i don't know/can't learn how to write some smut though! however i would just keep that in mind💀, and i hope you enjoy it! :)🍀💜

p.s. i'd like to say thank you to @martinsmomo​ one more time for giving me the amazing request for my first fic! 💕

gif by @skyshipper

“Go to the bedroom, strip to your underwear and wait for me.”

The patch job of your relationship with Ezra on The Blue was a success. Spending an equal amount of time with him alone, alone with Cee and as a trio boosted your strength as a group. The awkward silences and argumentative expeditions around The Blue were no more, and were replaced with friendly banter and jovial hikes. You and Ezra had made up so much that you had started to express your affection for one another physically. 

On every third day or so, Cee would go out on a trip alone, needing some time to herself. It wasn’t that she couldn’t stand the two of you - although you and Ezra occasionally found joy in pushing her buttons - but she enjoyed doing activities by herself. It made her feel like she was fortifying her transition from teenager to young adult. You and Ezra couldn’t have agreed more and supported her independent decisions. 

And on every third day or so, her absence from the pod allowed your courage to physically engage with Ezra to grow. The two of you had kept it to a minimum, not wanting Cee to notice any blushing cheeks or sweaty foreheads or panting chests when she would return. The majority of your time was spent just cuddling in positions that were a little too sexually charged to be considered platonic: a leg wound around a waist here, a hand gripping an ass there. The heaviest moment you had had was during a makeout session. 

While lying down in Ezra’s makeshift bed and mingling tastebuds, you had hiked one of your legs up and over his hips. Soon after, you felt the tip of his cock poke the underside of your thigh. He couldn’t have been harder. You dared to relieve some of his pent up arousal while still maintaining some semblance of innocence and released your grip on his hair, slid your hand down his broad chest and slipped it underneath your leg to get to his erection. You held it and ran your fingers over the tip of it, then along its length, hoping to get a good idea of what your pussy would have to take on at some later time. The moment Ezra felt the light weight of your hand, he moaned deeply into your mouth. He had then broken your kiss and warned, “Goose, in all seriousness, you should highly consider concluding your investigation unless you want to throw me into a pit of agonizing embarrassment.”

You teased, his clothed cock still in hand, “Ezra, I think we should stick to swallowing each other’s tongues and not speaking in them.” 

He had hummed in delight and grinned at you, then sighed, “Okay then, in your plebeian lingo: if you don’t stop rubbing my cock, I’ll cum in my pants.”

You both erupted in laughter, and you had snaked your hands back up his body and entangled them in his hair, taking his tongue in your mouth once again. 

After your departure from The Blue, your gang had decided to stop on Puggart Bench and decompress for a while. Cee wanted to hang out with her friends before they all went their separate ways in their new adult lives, Ezra wanted to repay the loan he had taken out for his prosthetic arm and you wanted a real bed to sleep in. Not a pilot’s chair, not a bundle of blankets on a metal floor, but a real bed. With a mattress, a comforter, a nice set of sheets, a plethora of blankets and pillows. A two bedroom suite in Puggart Bench’s most prestigious hotel was what the three of you had booked for two months before another orbiting moon made its way into the Bakhroma System for the three of you to explore. Your group had engaged in some nice, familial-like activities, nourishing your found family dynamic. 

You and Ezra had also spent quite a bit of time getting to know each other physically. While Cee would spend the day with her friends, you and Ezra never left your bed. Well, technically Ezra left the bed when he would stand, pull you to the very edge of it and subsequently use his newfound balance to pound into you with abandon. Your body hadn’t left the sheets, even when you knelt on the floor and took Ezra down your throat; your back pushed against the side of the mattress with every one of his thrusts. 

Fast forward to the present day, and it is the last day you are on Puggart Bench before you leave for The Indigo, the new moon in town. Cee is spending the night at her friend’s house, where she will be having one last sleepover with all of the girls she won’t have the chance to connect with for an undetermined period of time. You feel guilty for looking forward to her leaving because you can only imagine what your bedroom will see of you and Ezra tonight. 

While he washed your hair after a particularly exertive romp, Ezra had hinted that he had a kink that he wanted to try out with you. Without a definite return date from The Indigo, he offered that the two of you try it before you left for the moon, his desires getting the best of him. He never elaborated on what the kink is, as the both of you got entranced with washing the rest of your bodies. You plan on bringing it up tonight in the hopes of coming to a decision of whether or not you two have the patience to wait to test it out or not. 

The two of you are now putting on a facade of patience as Cee packs her things in her room. You sit in between Ezra’s legs on the couch, back to his torso, both of you reading a different book. The text fails to retain your attention, so you place a finger on the page you are on and fold it over. You shift your head against Ezra’s chest to look up at him, pupils dilating immediately as they take him in. Black thick-rimmed reading glasses grace his face, the only indication in his rugged appearance that he would be a bookworm. He glances down from his book to meet your eyes, smiling at you. He brings his right hand down, brushing the back of the dark grey metal against your cheek. You smile back at him, and a naughty thought pops into your brain. 

With your free hand, you find Ezra’s cock in an instant and palm it through his pants. His mouth drops in blissful surprise, but he’s quick to sit up and yank your hand away from his now hard dick. He snaps out a whisper, “Patience, Goose,” and places a light kiss to your temple. He gets up and walks away, afraid that you would just try to place your hand right back where it was. He was also afraid that he wouldn’t have the strength to stop you the next time. 

Suitcase clips clap from Cee’s bedroom, and moments later she walks into the living room. You look up at her from the back of the couch: still pouting that Ezra shooed you away, and he looks up at her too, standing behind the kitchen counter: hiding his erection. You both fight through your mutual embarrassment and smile at her, noticing her excitement. She beams at the two of you, suitcase in hand, and raises her shoulders, “Well, I’m going to go now.” 

She starts to walk to the door and Ezra follows her, putting a hand on her shoulder, “Have a good time, Sparrow. We’ll swing by and scoop you up tomorrow afternoon.” 

Cee smiles up at him, “Will do.” 

Ezra retracts his hand and puts both in his pockets, “We hate to bar you from seeing your friends and leading a more stable life, but we really do find solace in your company on our travels. It keeps us grounded, as much as one can be on an orbiting moon.” 

She turns so that she faces both of you, “No, that’s okay. I really enjoy being with you guys. You’re like a family that I got to pick.”

Tears threaten to run down your cheeks as you get up and rush over to her to give her a tight hug. She returns your embrace and Ezra follows shortly behind, encasing both of you in his arms. He draws giggles from his girls by placing a kiss on each of your heads, and after a moment of relishing in your found family, you all release one another. Cee says her final goodbyes, opens the door and closes it behind her, giving you and Ezra one last final smile of departure. 

You feel ashamed by the amount of heat that floods your genitals as soon as you hear the lock of the door click closed. Ezra, ever sensitive to your every mood change, pulls you in close and presses his forehead to yours, “You know we have to wait, Goose.” You nod, all too familiar with your routine once Cee left. You would wait and listen for her to walk down the hallway to the elevators, press the down button, wait for the doors to open, walk inside the chamber once it arrived, wait for the doors to close and finally start to descend to the ground floor. You did so out of respect for her; you and Ezra would never be able to forgive yourselves if she were to, for example, forget something and come back to find the two of you in the middle of some heated relations. 

Ezra’s fingers massage your shoulder blades as you anticipate the sound of the elevator opening, fully aware that he was not only dissipating any nerves you have but spurring your arousal on as well. He knows that thoughts of his fingers traveling elsewhere swarm your brain as he alternates the pressure his fingertips give you. With this knowledge, unbeknownst to you, he’s thinking about what his first order for you will be tonight. Would he introduce the kink that he alluded to the other day? Does he just want a night of repeating your default, mind-blowing agenda? How would you feel about reversing roles, and have you be his dominant and him your submissive? 

The ping of the elevator down the hall snaps him out of his trance. You eagerly await the whir of the elevator going down, and seconds later your wish is granted. Ezra lets go of you and steps back, eyes raking up and down your body twice before telling you, “Go to the bedroom, strip to your underwear and wait for me.” Such straightforward instructions to come from such an elaborate man. Ezra doesn’t waste a second in giving you seductive orders the moment he hears the elevator descending, his hunger to devour you reaching unbearable levels. With your appetite consisting of the same ferocity, you follow his instructions and go to your bedroom. Plopping onto the bed and laying on your back, you kick your shoes off, shimmy out of your pants and slide your shirt up and over your head, tossing the items to the chair in the corner of the room where you and Ezra kept your clothes. You found it humorous that he, like you, implemented the “chair of discarded clothing” into his life. 

Now in just your underwear and socks (Ezra had relayed to you that it is statistically easier to orgasm while wearing socks), you reach over into the nightstand and pull out a necktie. You had been rewarded with such powerful orgasms at the hands of Ezra - literally - that you often couldn’t hold in your cries no matter how hard you tried. The necktie’s usual resting place was in between your teeth, tied around your mouth in an effort to muffle yourself out of courtesy of your neighbors. Ezra’s mouth remained ungagged; the neighbors must’ve thought that he was trying out some new rigorous exercise regime with all of those heaves, grunts and... moans? What sort of move would cause his headboard to repeatedly knock on the wall? 

You sit and rub your thumbs on the buttersoft navy silk of the tie, patiently awaiting Ezra’s entrance into the room and later your cunt. A few moments later he comes in and shuts and locks the door behind him, an emergency precaution to protect the eyes of Cee or any intruding employee. He comes over and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. You glide over to him like a magnet and figure out a part of his kink after taking a quick glance into his hands, seeing that he’s holding rope. Black rope, to be exact, of varying lengths. He notices your quizzical brow and asks, “Spill your thoughts, Goose.” You gingerly reach out and touch the rope with your index finger, your vision moving in loops as you trace the coils. You look up and meet his eyes, those warm, curious, assuring windows to his soul that you love ever so dearly. You question, “Do you like to be tied up or do you want to tie me up?” 

He displays a faint smile, “I’d find great satisfaction in tying you up. However, I would be a liar if I claimed that the thought of you restraining me and having your way with me never joyfully crossed my mind.”

You sit there in silence, taking in his desires. You are most definitely up for this, you just approach every new romp with hesitation. You hadn’t been a virgin the first time you slept with Ezra, but no one had ever made you feel so good. So open, exposed, on display, in all the right ways. You had been set ablaze by his confident maneuvers, calmed ever so coolly by his doting ministrations. He had drowned you in his passionate love, and you had loved every single fucking second of it. It just got a bit overwhelming at times, which he would take notice of and promptly give you your time and space when you needed it. 

The rope intimidates you. It was smooth to the touch on the pad of your finger, but you could already imagine the uncomfortable burns it could give you. The tightness and thickness of the coils add to the fantasy of being completely immovable, but it also plants doubts in your mind. You voice your concerns to Ezra, “I’d love for you to tie me up, but I don’t think I’d like to start with rope.”

He cups your cheek lovingly, “Always one step ahead of me, Goose,” and picks up an end of the necktie in your lap. He rubs it with you, “I don’t want to start with the rope on you, either. I want us to work up to it.” He pats your cheek and holds up the rope in his hands, “I mean, it does look a little scary, doesn’t it?” Your newfound ease lets itself out of your lungs with a giggle, mirrored by Ezra. He turns and puts the rope on the seat at the foot of your bed, and you climb into his lap as he turns back around and cover his mouth with yours. Falling back onto the bed, his arms wrap around you like a snake and constrict you to his body. You grind your pussy onto his clothed torso, desperate for some friction, your soft moans tumbling down his throat. 

He has to pull you away from his mouth by the back of your neck, “Let me take my clothes off, sweet girl.” He gives you a chaste kiss before you roll off of him and let him stand to strip. As he gets naked, you remove your panties in a flash, and he quizzes you, “Color system?”

“Green for when I’m enjoying it, yellow for when I’m being pushed to my limits, red for when I’ve reached my limit and need you to stop.” 

“Good girl. What’s our safe word?”

“Magpie.”

“Excellent. Are you ready?” he asks as he pulls his underwear down and repeats your earlier action of throwing the discarded clothes onto the chair in the corner. 

You nod fervently, “Yes sir.” 

He sighs as he walks over to the edge of the bed and kneels, “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, Goose, you don’t have to call me that. I feel fulfilled enough in my domination with the heavenly noises your precious body emits.” 

You shrug, “It’s just natural. It’s a good girl formality, Ez. Aren’t I a good girl?”

He raises an eyebrow as he hooks his hands behind your knees and pulls your legs over the bed so you’re sitting on the edge, “I don’t think good girls let their neediness get the best of them and just fondle cocks out in the open.” You let out a devious laugh, noting his reference to your sneak attack on the couch, and he takes the necktie from you.  Your fingers run through his hair for a moment before he gently takes your wrists, smiling up at you. 

He reaches up to kiss you, and after your lips part he mumbles against them, “I’m just going to tie your hands together now, okay?” 

You nod, “Okay.” 

He gives you another wholehearted kiss before sitting back on his feet, beginning to tie your wrists to one another. You admit, although it’s incredibly arousing to watch his thick fingers twirl the smooth fabric into a knot, you grow a little bit anxious at the loss of movement. He can read it on your face after he finishes the knot, “I want you to lay back while I eat you out. I tied your hands in front of you so that you can pinch me if you want me to stop but can’t find your words.” You nod, appreciating the simplicity of his instructions. 

“I need you to use your words now, Goose.”

“Okay,” you reiterate, “Safe word is magpie. I can pinch you if I can’t say it.”

He nods, “Good girl,” and eases you onto your back. As he’s moving down your body to your core, something dawns on you, “Wait a minute.”

Ezra pauses and looks up at you with a caring expression, “What?”

“How am I supposed to stay quiet with the tie on my wrists and not in my mouth?”

He answers simplistically with a smirk, “Don't.”

You laugh, “What about the neighbors?”

“Fuck them. They should be grateful that tonight they will be an audience to one of the most beautiful symphonies that has ever been composed. And I’m not stepping foot off of this planet until I’ve heard my good girl’s clear, unabashed screams.” 

A rush of hot air leaves your mouth, enticing Ezra to come back up and push it back into you with his tongue. A moment of clashing teeth later, he retreats back down to your core and lightly knocks your legs apart. You shift your gaze downward to find him admiring your cunt, his left hand capturing his dick and pumping it a few times. He leans forward, presses a kiss to your inner thigh and then runs his sharp nose over the spot, up your leg, across your hip and back down to your wetness and inhales deeply. You can’t help but laugh at his display of rapture, his sniffing audible. He threatens you in disbelief, “My indulgence amuses you, Goose?” 

You meet his eyes with yours, twinkling with mischief, “Yeah, kind of.” 

He puts his tongue in his cheek and shakes his head, “Goose, you are being a bit of a brat.” He pushes your knees to your chest, his hands on the backs of your thighs, keeping them in place, “And you should know by now how much I love taming my little brat.” 

You are very aware of how much he enjoys brat taming, hence your acting up. His tongue licks a wide stripe up your core and a gasp escapes your mouth. He moans into you, sending vibrations through your cunt and shivers up your spine. He buries his tongue in you, his lips fornicating with your southern set, his fingers gripping your soft flesh tightly. Your anticipation of this moment has made your cunt oversensitive, so every little tickle of Ezra’s facial hair, every small movement of his warm tongue, every faint nudge of his nose and chin against your vulva makes you moan loudly. The pattern that his tongue is following suddenly picks up speed and your body involuntarily adjusts to it. Your hips buck up into his mouth, your clit weeping to be drenched in his saliva. Your tied hands lower until your fingertips are able to find his hair and intertwine with the thick brunette strands. The stability that gripping onto his hair gives you makes you hyperaware of just how close you are to cumming already. You whimper, “Ezra, please.”

This tone of your voice has been permanently ingrained in his mind thanks to your daily fucks over the past couple months. If the tightening of your hamstrings isn’t a large enough hint to him that you are close, your breathlessness is a blatant clue. He releases you from his mouth, lines of spit keeping the two of you connected, “That’s my girl, come on.” His egging on is more than you need to be shoved into your orgasm. As his tongue returns to lap at your clit, your neck arches up and your eyes roll into the back of your head. A groan rips through your throat that drowns out his muffled moans, his mouth working you through your orgasm. Your sharp intakes of air start to stagger out as your heart begins to calm down, your cunt pulsing with aftershocks. Ezra reluctantly removes his mouth from you, wetting your inner thigh with a line of his spit and your slick before pressing a kiss to the same spot he kissed earlier. The blackness of his pupils overtakes his chocolatey irises when he catches your eyes, dopamine flooding his nervous system. 

He presents his wrist, does some math on an imaginary watch and jokes, “That must’ve been a record, Goose.” You giggle and pull your hands up to your mouth, trying to hide your embarrassed smile. He reaches up and pulls your hands back down to tangle your fingers in his cowlicks, “But my desire to drink pools of your cum has not yet been satiated.” 

You swear under your breath as he dips his head back in between your legs, your voice catching in your throat when his hot breath cascades over your folds. This time, instead of licking stripes and lapping, he opts to draw shapes and trace circles against you. It sounds stupid, but man does it feel fucking good. Before you lose all self control, you give his scalp a massage, the best one you can muster with conjoined hands, as a way of telling him I love you. Simultaneously, he switches his tongue’s clockwise motion to counterclockwise and hooks his hands around the tops of your thighs, pulling you deeper into his mouth so he can devour you even more thoroughly than he already was. You brush his hair off of his sweaty forehead with your knuckles, seeing that his eyes are closed and brows are furrowed in concentration. He’s been moaning this entire time into you, blissfully lost in the heaven that is your pussy, and as his tongue picks up its pace the vocal vibrations boost your toward your release. You beg of him, “Please don’t stop.” 

He doesn’t stop. In fact, he heightens your arousal one step further than you thought possible. He notes your utter wetness and decides to fill your wanting hole by snaking his left hand down to your entrance and slipping two fingers inside you. A heated orgasm pumps through your every artery just like Ezra’s fingers are pumping in and out of your cunt, his tongue keeping a delicious pace. After your body is done convulsing with pleasure, he moves up it and stops in front of your face. 

“Open.” 

You are all too familiar with this command and obey. Ezra spits a combination of your cum and his saliva into your mouth. He presses a hand to the underside of your jaw and you close your mouth. 

“Swallow.” 

You do as he says while he keeps his hand against your neck, feeling his love concoction make its way down your throat. He groans and gives you a quick kiss before asking, “Color?” You smile and bring your hands up to scratch at his scruff, “Green. You?”

“Green.” 

Pulling your body tight against his, he hauls the two of you to the middle of the bed. He sits up and back atop your hips, pulls your hands closer to him and begins to untie your wrists. Your eyes can’t help but fixate on his hard dick, standing erect in front of you, as he speaks, “Now Goose, once you’re untied I want you to get on all fours for me,” he notices your distraction, “and if you try to pull any shenanigans, there will be consequences.” You shift your gaze up to his eyes and you swear that there’s a deep sparkle in them that is daring you, begging you, to disobey him. He liked to punish you as much as you liked to be punished by him. So, once untied, you throw him a curveball and take his orders, flipping over and propping yourself up on your hands and knees. You look over your shoulder at him to see that his face is mangled in baffled confusion, making you laugh, “What?” 

He mounts your ass and teases your entrance with his cock, “If you had attempted to grab what your eyes were drooling over, I would’ve spanked you.” 

“But I didn’t.”

He leans over your back and places his hands on either side of yours, “I wanted to spank you.” 

“I know. But I’m not a naughty girl.”

He raises his eyebrows and chuffs out disbelief, “Maybe if you continue to tell yourself that delusion, you can convince yourself that it’s true. But there’s no fooling me. I know my girl is infatuated with misbehaving in order to spite me,” he stuffs his cock inside your pussy, “Isn't that true?” He lifts his left hand to wrap his fingers around the arched column of your throat, forcing you to look up at him. 

You dismantle his lie, “I don’t do it to spite you, I do it to delight you.” 

He pulls his hips away from yours in order to prepare for a thrust and hums, “That’s one reason why I love you, Goose. You see right through me.” 

The two of you groan in unison as he fucks forward and bottoms out inside you. As he establishes a steady pace, your quivering fingers find purchase on his wrist. Even though you had slept together a countless number of times in the past two months, his girthy penetration still overwhelmed you at first, and you benefitted from at least a few seconds of adjusting. He knew this and was why he untied you; his brutal rhythm coupled with the binding of the tie would be too much for you without a little warming up. While he’s stretching you out, he murmurs encouragements into your hair, “That’s it, just like that... You’re taking my cock so well... Good girl.” 

After your muscles relax, he asks, “Color?”

“Couldn’t be greener. You?”

He grins at your response, “Green.” 

He gives your cheek a kiss before proposing his next instruction, “Why don’t you be a good girl and lay down and put your arms behind your back?”

He pauses his thrusts as you lean forward and press your cheek against the sheets. You turn to ask him just how he wants you to move, and he reads your mind, “Touch the pits of your elbows.” You twist your forearms behind your back until they are pressed against each other and the tips of one hand’s fingers graze the opposite side’s elbow. He snakes the silky tie in between your spine and wrists, the fabric gliding easily over your sweaty skin. He ties your wrists together again, this time much looser than before. He color checks you when he finishes the knot. You wiggle your arms, the amount of resistance being just right, “Green.” He hums in enjoyment and runs his fingertips down the backs of your arms, sending a pleasant shudder through you. 

Lining himself up, he places a steadying right hand on your lower back. The contrast of the cool metal of his prosthetic limb to the fire that barrels through you once he pushes himself back into your hole is divine. Both textures of his hands slip against your skin as they try to find a solid grip on your hips in order to allow him to begin pounding into you. Your whimpering spurs him on, and once he’s able to to lock you into place you both swear under your breath in anticipation. As he embarks on his ferocious rhythm, an orgasm takes you by surprise. 

Well, not really by surprise, because Ezra has proven time and time again that he can coax you to cum at a moment’s notice. 

Out of courteous instinct, you bury your face into the bed to muffle your cries of ecstasy. Ezra turns your face to the side and tuts, “Uh-uh, Goose, I need to hear you this time, remember?” 

You can barely him him, let alone understand him, while an astronomical burst of white oxytocin smothers your poor body. Unable to gain control of your composure to stop yourself, you indulge Ezra and let your screams fill the bedroom. The numbness of your mind fades away, effects of your orgasm bringing feeling back to you: the hot tears that spot your bottom lashline, the sweet soreness that the tensing of your muscles left you, the sweat that gathers in the line of your spine, the aroused slick that coats your inner thighs. 

You pant as Ezra unties you, “Good girl. Flip over and face me,” and he tenderly places your forearms to your sides. 

You’re exhausted. You can most definitely take more of his loving, but you need him to do the work, “I can’t.” 

He rolls you over onto your back, his muscular arms giving you the comfort you need to go on. A frantic, worried expression takes over his face, “You okay? Still green? I didn’t push you too far, did I? Was the tie too tight? Did I-” 

You shut him up with a kiss. You reassure him, “Yes, still green. Just fucking tired.” 

You both laugh, and he asks, “Do you want to stop?” 

You shake your head no, “I’m not sure if the neighbors heard all of that scream. I think they need another one.” 

Your dirty talk contorts his mouth into a grin of sly allure as he gets up off the bed, “I concur.” He opens a drawer of the nightstand and takes out another necktie, this one made of black wool. He gets back on the bed and says, “Let’s give them a musical to remember.” 

You snicker as he pushes both of you farther up the bed, giving you more room to mess about in. He places the second tie next to the blue one and a hand on each of your ankles, “What this next position requires in flexibility it will pay for infinitely in pleasure for you and I both, okay, Goose?” 

Your wariness is excited, “Okay?” 

He pulls your legs together and picks up the blue tie. He wraps the fabric around both ankles, beginning to tie them together, but pauses and interjects, meeting your eyes, “You’re okay with me tying you here, right?” 

You smile at his concern and mock, “Ezra, you could tie me any way you’d like and I’ll be more than happy.” 

His nose crinkles in satisfaction and he resumes tying you up. After he’s done, he pushes your thighs to your chest, bending your knees so your feet are in the air. You can’t stop the laughter that erupts from you, “Ez, what in the Bakhroma System are you scheming?” 

He gives you a wickedly teasing laugh back, “A fun time, Goose.” 

He momentarily cups your face with his left hand, “If at any point it gets too much, for whatever reason, just say the word and I’ll stop everything.” 

You take his hand and kiss his palm, “Okay.” 

He smiles, boops your nose with his thumb and pulls your arms so that they rest in the pit of your upside down knees. He picks up the black tie and does a different knot on your arms than he had done previously. He puts the binding on them higher up, which makes you hold your legs up, keeping your cunt on display for him. The wool of the tie scratches where the silk had soothed you, but you savor the friction. Ezra wastes no time in entering you again, plunging his cock deep into your fluttering walls. You brace your forehead against your shins, panting wildly. With every thrust, he hits something deep and sensitive in you, but you know you could make the experience more intense for the both of you. 

“Ez?” 

“Yeah?”

“Can you look at me?” He angles himself so he can look around your legs and meet your eyes. As you are projected into the depths of his eyes, engulfed by the lust-blown ink of his pupils, enhanced by the dark coffee that surrounds them, an “I love you” slips out of your lips. 

He compresses your body further by leaning down and capturing your mouth, “I love you too.” 

When he pulls back and his hands find the backs of your thighs, he asks for a color check. You answer green, giving him permission to ravage you. He does just that, putting every ounce of his might behind his thrusts, eliciting growls of the same magnitude from you both. The gradual construction of an orgasm starts to warm your body, your moans getting louder and louder with each passing second. In an effort to put it off, you bite down hard on your lip. Ezra notices, running a thumb across your lipline, “Goose, please, allow me to be privy to your every stuttered breath.”

“Every gasp of delighted surprise.”

“Every involuntary whimper.”

“Every lustful yelp.”

“Every plea for me to keep going.”

“Every unhinged beg.”

“Every feral scream that only I can rouse out of those magnificent lungs. Indulge my deranged wish and let me hear it all, Goose.”

His words whisk you onto an expressive whirlwind of slow-building passion. You close your eyes and watch as your orgasm transforms from a cozy snuggle to a captivating explosion; behind your eyelids, amorous red transitions to a lustful magenta. It lightens to a flirtatious and giggly bubblegum, intensifying to a vibrating, barely-there pink. Then, all at once, buckets of slumberous evergreen, pure Ezra energy, submerge you into your release. Any bit of any other color is eradicated as he pours his soul onto yours. Descending from your chameleonic trance, you open your eyes to meet his. He can see that he has torn you apart in a most satiating way, which catapults him to his peak. He pulls out of you and pumps his cum onto the backside of your thighs, his heart collapsing with joy. He smears his stickiness across both of your hamstrings and then quickly gets to work to release you from his necktie binds. The bind that he has made of your heart to his, though, is infinitely knotted, forever unbreakable. 

Your limbs untangle themselves and fall to the bed, every cell in your body pooped from the session. He asks for a final time, “Color?” 

You sigh, “Green. You?” 

He smiles, “Green.” 

He brushes the now cum-stained ties to the side and pats your stomach, stamping a handprint of his seed, “I’ll be right back, Goose.” You nod once and he gets up and exits the room, leaving the door ajar.

You flip onto your stomach, your muscles yearning for a change of position after getting pummeled into the mattress. You bend your arms to lay in front of you, elbows sighing in relief for being contracted instead of stretched. You close your eyes and rest your head on his pillow for what seems like a millisecond, but when you open them back up Ezra has returned with two glasses of water, a washcloth and a juice box. 

He folds the cloth into a triangle, dips a corner into a glass and then brings it behind you. The icy water feels good on your overheated skin as he wipes away his cum before it has the chance to dry. Once he cleans you off, he takes a seat on the edge of the bed next to your depleted frame. He sets the cloth down and picks up the other glass of water, “Drink this, sweetheart.” You prop yourself up on your forearms and gulp some much needed fluids down as Ezra holds the glass steady against your mouth. You hold up a weak hand when you’ve had your fill and he finishes off the drink. You never thought you would find sharing a drink like this with someone stomachable, let alone wildly attractive. But Ezra had changed you; you wanted to exchange cells, germs, bodily fluids with him, no matter how nasty it sounded when put into words. 

Ezra trades the glass for the juice box and pops the straw into the opening, holding it up to your lips, “Drink some.” You curiously eye the juice box: apple flavored, the carton decorated in bright and childish cartoons. You tease him, “You know, when I said I might have a daddy kink, this is not what I meant.” 

You both laugh, and he pokes after a moment, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” 

As you take the straw into your mouth and drink, he places a hand on the back of your head and pets your hair, “That’s it, babygirl, do as Daddy says.” An air of laughter blows through your nose and you choke on the liquid as Ezra cackles. You drop the straw and cough, “Stop!” 

He continues to laugh at you while you whine, “Why do I have to drink this anyways, can’t I just have water?” 

He calms himself down and shakes his head, “No, I want to replenish your blood sugar. Otherwise you might feel faint, and not in a good way.” He shoots you a wink and you take another sip of the juice. 

When you’re done, he puts the half-empty box back on the nightstand and lays on top of you. You joke, “You’re crushing me and you told me I have to pee right after.” 

Since sleeping together, Ezra had realized how little knowledge of aftercare you had. He had advised you to go to the bathroom as soon as possible after the deed is done in order to avoid urinary tract infections, among other pains. He nuzzles into your shoulder and protests, “In a minute.” 

Taking into account the history of his comment and your increasingly heavy eyelids, you rebut, “You know that never happens.” More often than not, when Ezra trapped you in a cage of cuddles directly afterward like this, the two of you would fall asleep and you would skip the trip to the bathroom. He grunts and moves his weight off of you, “Fine, but I’ll only let you go if I can carry you in there.” You barely have time to begin laughing before he’s swooping you up into his arms. 

After you both use your respective time in the bathroom, you and Ezra dress in matching pajamas and climb into bed. Coddling you into his broad chest, his fingers dance on the back of your neck and your lower back. You turn your head up to face him and when he returns your gaze you reference the whole night, “Thank you.” 

A smile crinkles his tired eyes, “The pleasure was all mine, Goose. Thank you for taking it all so well. Get some sleep, okay?” 

“Only if you will too.”

“Sure thing, my love.”

He gives you a kiss before you retreat back into the sanctuary of his embrace. Right as you’re drifting off to sleep, he adds, “I would like to ravage you one more time, in the morning.” 

Your smirk pulls at the fabric of his shirt, “Okay. But no daddy kink. We have to save some things to explore when we come back.” 

He hums, pressing his cheek into the top of your head before the two of you succumb to the temptation of sleep, “As you wish.”

💘taglist: @pascalpanic

[gingerbreadmonsters]

Ginger ginger, do you have any advice for writing nsfw scenes of more than 2 people?? I've been struggling with my aaron/gavin/smartass wip bc of the. logistical struggle of writing three ppl recently n wonder if you have any advice to pass along !!

calico my love!! i have survived seminars and dance and i am BACK hehe

(also i will preface this by saying that i have written very little nsfw in my time - kingdom come is like,,,,,,, the second or third one ever?? also my fics only very rarely feature more than 2 people at a time interacting in any sort of meaningful context, so please take this w a nice big grain of salt lmao)

uhhhh i think what helped the most for me was having a clear idea of what the dynamics in the room were - not specifically in like a bdsm way, but moreso like "how comfortable are these people with each other generally? what kinds of things have they done together before? are there things they'd do with one person but not another? what relationships do they have with one another outside this scenario?"

i didn't know exactly how the scene was going to unfold (i.e. specifically who was going to do what to whom, and in what order), but having thought about those kinds of questions made it much easier to think about what sort of actions the characters would be likely to want to take, and how the others would react - i'll use gavin as an example:

i imagine that gavin and vincent are very close, longtime friends and have had quite a lot of sex together before (both with just the two of them and also with other people in the room), so they're more willing to be playful and tease each other, they're more comfortable with touching and leaning on each other, they have a pretty good understanding of each others' body language and likes/dislikes

however, gavin is romantically and emotionally attached to freelancer in a different way than he is to vincent (who has his own romantic partner in the room), and thus in those dips when lovely's recovering, he's looking to freelancer to check in with them, comfort them, and generally give and receive affection in a way that makes sense with the relationship they have outside of this single setting

in my mind, gavin hasn't known lovely for as long as he's known vincent or freelancer, and while he knows they're happy about what's going on, the two of them haven't quite reached the same level of comfort as with the others - as a result, he makes an effort to be very clear with telegraphing what he's about to do before he does it, and checking that they're still enthusiastic about what's happening, letting vincent (who lovely is more familiar with in a sexual setting) ease them into it and talk them up and down, while still making sure that they know that he cares for them as an individual, not as an add-on to vincent

something else that helped was keeping a clear picture of how everyone was physically positioned in relation to each other, and making sure that i described that clearly but not excessively - with several people, there's limbs all over the shop! i had to be a bit more descriptive in order to make it clear who was leaning on who, which "him" i was referring to, which parts of the body were actually in contact, who was speaking to who....

tldr: i think as long as you have a good sense of characters and character relationships, plus a clear idea of how to physically manipulate them from one place to another within the scene, i think you're good to go - you don't need me to tell you how to write a good sex scene lmao 🤡🤡 you're going to smash it babes!! i have total faith in your writing and i look forward to seeing how it goes for you 💕💕💕

[janetbrown711]

My headcanons about Queen Angelina II

Majority of these can be seen in this fic, so if you like the idea go check it out ;)

Also- a handful of these are shared with the lovely @madelynartz, who also has fantastic takes on her, so be sure to check out their post too

If you want me to draw/write any of these specific headcanons/moments, just send an ask and I’ll probably do it

I’ll (likely) be making another, seperate post for William when i feel like it

Update: I have

This is gonna be a long post-

Early Life:

Her parents weren't very loving or caring, only ever wanting her to work on her studies and singing

Her mother was worse than her father, as she was egotistical and always critical of Angelina II and always seemed to find problems with things and people that made her happy

Her mother also always went by her full name (You had to refer to her as Queen Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca the First- she wouldn't let people shorten it)

Naturally- Angelina resented her mother and with that, her own name.

She hates it when people say her full name- "Just Angelina is fine"

But if she especially likes you, you can call her Lena ;)

Since the only thing her parents approved of was studying, she devoured the entire castle library as a child, which left her often more informed than her tudors, which left her bored during lessons and she quickly became a "smart-ass" as she liked to talk back and figure out the ways she could get out of lessons

She hated the idea of getting betrothed, and any time a suitor would come over, she'd attack his pride in any form she could think of to get them to hate her, and she was successful

One of the suitors was Prince Salazar

She hated Salazar the most

Despite her attitude being well known across several kingdoms, rumors of her beauty and wonderous singing kept them coming

Her father, King Harold the Eighth, died when she was 10, and she could hardly say she really grieved him, but it made her mother more distant and sometimes outright cruel

She met William when he was 15 in the royal stables when he was training to be a squire

He fell in love instantly, though Angelina wanted to get to know him first

They were the best of friends since they met, though it was obvious Queen Angelina I disapproved

However, after awhile Angelina just stopped caring about what her mother thought entirely and was much better off

She and William loved to garden together, and always planted new flowerbeds in the palace garden every spring

William proposed when he was 22 and she was 21

Obviously she said yes, but they had to keep it hidden from her mother, who would likely take William away

Luckily for them, Angelina I died a month after he proposed, and the two were quickly married.

Yakko:

Yakko was born 10 months after their wedding

Angelina fell in love instantly, declaring him to be the cutest baby she had ever seen

She's terrible with names, and never named her children until after they were born

She hated the idea of giving him a really long and convoluted name, or a name that was in her family (like Harold the 9th)

And so Yakko it was

She didn't expect motherhood to be so exhausting, but hearing Yakko's laugh for the first time made everything worth it to her

Yakko began babbling at a younger age than most, and he babbled constantly, even in his sleep. Angelina loved to just sit and listen to him try to tell stories in nonsense baby language

However, Yakko seemed to have a preference for hearing William give the bedtime stories, as when she tried to read he got fussy

Once he was able to explain he said "daddo does the voices" and that he preferred her lullabies anyway

It hurt at first, but she understood. William was an excellent story teller, though he did have a tendency to ramble at times

Yakko's favorite story was of how they met

She's very protective, and if he was sick or hurt, she'd never leave his side

Her hair used to be very, very long but once Yakko was able to grab things and kept yanking her hair, she chopped it all off and has kept it short ever since

Wakko:

Wakko didn’t cry or breathe when he was born, so for the first moments of his life, Angelina and William feared he was dead

He wasn’t dead though, and they rejoiced greatly, and cried a lot

Angelina refused to let go of him though, and they were only able to get Wakko away from her when she fell asleep from exhaustion

After about a week or so, she relaxed more, but she needless to say her protectiveness went to new heights 

“Lena, Yakko slept in a crib all the time, it’s fine-” “How do you know that?” “Lena, I was there.”

William did always have a way to reassure her though

However, the extra layer of protectiveness was kinda needed for Wakko, as he loved to bite and chew on everything and anything he could get his little hands on (including his own tail)

She eventually gained what William described as a “sixth sense” where she could just tell when Wakko put something he wasn’t supposed to in his mouth.

Wakko didn’t talk much when he was young, especially when compared to Yakko, though his brother seemed to get him to talk even more than his parents could

They didn’t mind though, whatever worked, worked

Wakko loved following Yakko everywhere he went the moment he could crawl. Angelina thought it was adorable.

Wakko had a tendency to hurt himself a lot (whether by tripping, crashing, bitting his tail too hard, etc.) which forced Angelina to learn that he’ll be okay, and not to overreact or panic, as he was most certainly not made of glass

Angelina had a tendency to be a worry-wart

Dot: 

Angelina became pregnant with Dot right before tensions with Ticktockia started to rise, but William was determined not to let that ruin their optimism about having another child that was hopefully a girl

Angelina really wanted a girl bc Yakko and Wakko didn’t like dressing up and she really hoped a girl would, though she knew there wasn’t ever a guarantee, but she hoped

Angelina went into labor in the middle of a meeting with an ambassador from Ticktockia, but forced herself to finish it bc she ain’t a quitter

Despite Dot being her third child, she took the longest to actually deliver (two days), likely due to the exhaustion from countless meetings with Ambassadors and the stress of trying to avoid war bc King Salazar decided past treaties suddenly didn’t mean anything

Angelina had originally been against giving her her name, as she still associated it with her mother, but William said that he only thought of her, and that she was a much better mother and person than Angelina I could’ve ever been, which changed her mind.

However, she had thought of the name Dot before she was born, and liked it to so she and William agreed they’d just call her that for short, and if you asked them “how is Dot short for Princess Angelina blah blah blah the Third, they’d reply “it just is”)

Though she wouldn’t tell Yakko or Wakko, Dot was most certainly the cutest baby of them all

Wakko and Yakko loved to just... stand over Dot’s crib and watch her do things

Wakko also didn’t grasp what a baby was, and would often try to make her do things, and when she wouldn’t he’d get upset and Angelina or William would have to explain why she can’t play with him with the toy soldiers

She’d often just ramble on and on to Dot as she slept while William watched the boys, talking about the new treaties going up, and how worried she was about what Salazar would do if he didn’t agree with the new treaties and deals. It made her feel better. 

To also ease her worries, she taught Yakko how to take care of his sister. How to burp her, how to change her, how to give her a bath, etc. She hated thinking about what could possibly happen, but knowing they’d survive somehow made her feel much better. 

Dot was three months old when the attack happened, and Angelina wished she had had more time with her before dying.

Misc. (bc I refuse to end on a bad/depressing note)

She had family portraits made after each of her kids were born bc she wanted to always remember how cute of babies they were

Her lullabies worked like magic in terms of getting the three of them to sleep

If you asked her, she thinks Yakko has her eyes, Wakko has her nose, and Dot has her eyes and face shape

In the space between her mother dying and their wedding, she met Hello Nurse, who was a childhood friend of William’s, and they hit it off quite well- so much so that Angelina offered her a job in the castle, but she refused, saying she had plans with some doctor in Acme Falls, which Angelina respected. 

She one time tried to practice knitting in hopes of knitting the kiddos a blanket, but she was  t e r r i b l e  at it, and gave up after a week of trying

William and her liked to throw balls at least once a year, and everyone agreed they were the best dancers out there (what they didn’t know was how much practice Angelina had to put in to get a sense of rhythm- she was a terrible dancer, and William’s natural grace when dancing far exceeded her own)

Despite others protesting, Angelina always suspected that the reason tension was growing with Ticktockia was because Salazar was jealous and upset that she married some random knight rather than him (a theory that was proven right to her right before her death)

Her favorite food was bananas

William was a huge cuddler, so they’d cuddle close every night

she personally tutored Yakko on things like history and geography, as she felt those tended to be the most boring classes, and she wanted to have some part in his education, as she hated all of her teachers when she was a kid

She often didn’t know when to shut up, which did end up costing her in the end, but she didn’t regret a single word she said before her death, as Salazar deserved every bit of it. 

[elliewritessometimes]

IT’S @mattieswheelers BIRTHDAY!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVELY WE LOVE YOU SO MUCH

beCAUSE of this, myself and @notsomightymightytiger decided to steal tea leaf’s time travelling mattie au and create a whole entire fic with their ideas and also a design that @ari-is-anxious did a while back!! hope you enjoy aaaaaaa <3333 aLSO stabbies try and spot as many starboard references as you can heheheh 

this can be read on ao3 here if you prefer the format :)

tw: swearing, murder (it’s minor and resolved tho jsgh), religion (nicco my love read with care), blood, i really hope i haven’t missed anything please do let me know if i missed anything

-

Mattie had always been able to time travel. For as long as she could remember, her walk-in wardrobe had been lined with silver metal and held no clothes at all. As a child, this made it all the more exciting, though as she grew older and actually started to want to own clothes, it became a little inconvenient. She supposed all great inventions came with some kind of sacrifice.

Her uncle had made the time machine as a gift when Mattie was born. Her parents, like any basic adults, assumed the wardrobe-sized box was simply a toy and had taken no interest in it. Mattie, from the age of about three when her curiosity had really set in, was the one who discovered that the machine was in fact a working portal and not just a children’s toy. Since then, she had been happily travelling time and space during the darkest hours of night.

(You may have entirely valid concerns about a three year old having full access to time travel - luckily, not just for Mattie’s safety but also that of the entire human race, her uncle had set what were effectively child locks on a lot of the controls. These were diminished the day that Mattie turned thirteen. Uncle Calvin had always been a little weird, but he certainly wasn’t heartless.)

-

Usually, Mattie’s time travel didn’t affect her life. Sure, it made for some pretty awkward conversations as Mattie spurted some knowledge which could never have been explained through a textbook, but those could often be blamed on watching too much Horrible Histories as a child (“Mattie, I swear to God, you’re so bageling British, and yet you’ve never been there, I don’t understand.” “Horrible Histories is a masterpiece! You’re just jealous that you’re too American to have seen it.” “Actual asshole of a child.” “Farrah-!”).

It was going well until Mattie’s freshman year at Giles Corey. And then three of her fellow highschoolers were murdered. And suddenly Mattie had a way to prevent that from happening.

In some stroke of luck, she passed out at the sleepover and didn’t find out about the murders until she was sitting in the back of a cop car, driving to her house to pick up her things. She remembered thinking how weird it was that she wasn’t being taken straight to the station, but brushed that away in favour of ‘going into her wardrobe to change out of her bloody clothes’.

The time machine was cold like it always was and that forced her out of her muddled state quickly enough. She thought back to the victims. Chess. Farrah. Clark. Snapping on her goggles, she pressed a button, whirled backwards through time and space, and appeared at the gate to Riley’s neighbour’s house.

She really wished that she had actually changed her outfit - the damp blood turned cold with the breeze and sent shivers up her spine. The smell perhaps or just her sudden appearance startled the neighbour’s dogs into a frenzy. A figure, Chess, unharmed and merely confused instead of terrified, stood up from Riley’s bench, calling into the darkness. Mattie’s breath caught in her throat. The second figure, knife glinting in the dim streetlight, slipped out of the back door. Their red hair shone in the reflection of the knife with a sick kind of beauty.

Mattie could have stopped them there, taken the knife from the assailant’s grasp, prevented the tragedy of the evening. But she didn’t. She just watched.

Three minutes later, after arriving back in her present time and pressing yet another button on the wall of her closet, she watched the same scene unfold in the bathroom with a much younger victim. Twenty minutes after that, the third attack. This one was different though, an accident.

Still a little desperate and overly conscious of the police officer standing guard outside of her bedroom, she reappeared in her wardrobe, putting on a jumper before turning back time a little further. She appeared in a gymnastics centre as a girl around Mattie’s age did wolf turns on a beam. A coach entered the scene from the sidelines as the girl stopped spinning, her distinctive plait falling still against her back. Something in Mattie ached at the sight of Chess so lively and innocent, willing to give up her life for her dream of succeeding in her sport. As the two wandered into a side room, picking up water with a smile, Mattie edged forwards, collecting soft gym mats as she went. Within minutes, the area surrounding the beam had been double layered with cushioning, and Mattie could only pray that her plan would work. She’d seen enough YouTube videos to know what happened next.

Chess emerged again with her coach, hopping back up onto the beam with practiced ease. Again, Mattie was forced to just watch as she went down into her wolf turn, then rose up, did a split leap across at least half of the beam, and jumped into a twist to land on the floor. It was a messy landing, the gymnast’s ankle caving in on itself, knee twisting unnaturally in the air, before coming down hard onto her side. But, unlike in the previous videos, there wasn’t a resounding crack, only a weak cry of pain as Chess stumbled back to her feet.

Mattie grinned despite herself as snippets of conversation drifted her way.

“-not broken, don’t worry-”

“The Olympics seem out of the picture…”

“Get her a drink to numb the pain! Yes, limeade’s perfect-!”

Mattie arrived in her room again with a whole plethora of new information just inserted into her mind like it had been there all along. There was no longer and never had been a police officer outside her door. Her shirt was clean, her head undamaged. Chess didn’t go to the Olympics, but still did gymnastics in her spare time as her knee made a full and quick recovery. Farrah wasn’t dropped. Riley, in some weird twist of fate, went to the same therapist as Mattie. Life was… good for the Giles Corey Tigers.

Across town, the sleepover was still going ahead as normal. From what weird memories she just gained, Mattie knew that the team was at a rocky patch, their personalities still clashing in any iteration of the evening. But, with some relief, she knew that it would never in this timeline be bad enough for murder to even be considered as an answer. Her phone buzzed. The lies came easily as she covered up her mysterious disappearance from the sleepover she should currently be at.

Reese (school): Where are you???

Mattieeeee: I went home :( not feeling good

Reese (school): :((( that sucks

Mattieeeee: Ikr. I think it was the ice cream.

Reese (school): I told the others

Reese (school): They all say get well soon apart from Kate and Cairo who actually agreed on something for once haha

Mattieeeee: What did they say skjghdjh

Reese (school): “Tolerate the lactose, Wheeler.”

-

In her short-but-actually-quite-long-given-all-the-time-travel life, Mattie had witnessed a number of key historic events (and had caused about 85% by some small accident, but that’s a story for another time). The one which ended up unveiling her secret to someone in her actual life occurred overnight one February. Or maybe July. Depends. Time is weird.

She stepped into a small room, luckily through the doorway and not awkwardly through the window, as done many times before. A man sat hunched over a desk by the window, dressed in brown and using a pen-but-not-really-a-pen to craft a page of writing. From Mattie’s extensive historical knowledge, it could have been anywhere from 1000 BC to the 16th century.

“Hello, excuse me,” she began, “But I’m a little lost.”

The man startled, his not-really-pen skidding across the page and leaving a trail of thick ink in its wake as he blinked at her in the doorway. “Who are you?” He seemed perplexed as to how a young girl was standing there, in the opening to his room, in clothing not of any time now or before.

Something that Mattie had realised after travelling not only to different times, but also to a vast number of different settings around the world, was that somehow, she was never stumped by a language barrier. Instead she was always able to fluently converse with those she met in what appeared to her as American English. It was really weird; she tried not to think about it too much or it made her head hurt. She’d also learnt that it was best not to explain her full situation to her companions, becoming accustomed to pulling the classic ‘I’m not here, you’re just dreaming’ excuse. So that was exactly the tactic she applied here. “A dream figure. You don’t need to be afraid.”

The man narrowed his eyes, glancing down at the paper and then back up to Mattie’s face. “That’s a good line.” He scribbled her words down onto a scrap piece of papyrus. “Maybe I can use that later.”

Mattie grinned, sensing her chance to fuck up history just a little bit. “What are you writing?”

“How the world came to be,” the man explained. “God.”

“Ah, of course. The Bible, huh?”

“Pardon?” The scribe locked eyes with Mattie for the first time, confusion etched clearly on his face. She shook her head in response, having learnt that it was hopeless trying to explain events of the future to people who could never even begin to imagine the future that she came from. Seemingly satisfied, the man continued. “As the vision you are, I wonder if you’ve been sent to answer my queries.”

“Of course. Go ahead.”

“I’m struggling for a name. Not for the book itself, but just for this chapter.”

Mattie smiled as wisely as she could. “What do you have so far?”

“‘Generational Crisis’. The chapter describes how our world came to be - the creation of natural elements, the first humans, the beginnings of emotion. ‘Generational’ as it shall be carried on for generations, and ‘crisis’ as it’s a huge event, a crisis for the higher powers.”

Mattie choked. Her mind imagined a world where the entry chapter to the Bible was named as so, and it was a world of chaos and highly differing language choices. “That is very wise, sir. I have one suggestion: how about shortening it? Make it snappier, more catchy. I’m thinking…” She paused, feigning deep thought, “‘Genesis.’”

The man gasped, scrawling her word down at the top of the papyrus. “Genius! Thank you, child. I should write your name in my finished book, to show my gratitude for your kindness.”

“Mattie, sir, Mattie Wheeler. It’s been lovely to meet you and see your studies.” Over the centuries, Mattie had learnt to leave those she met with some kind of reassurance as the humane aspect of her hobby. “Before I go, I may be a dream spirit, but I can assure you that the work you have done right now shall be greatly appreciated for thousands of years to come.”

“You really are a wonder, perhaps a child sent from the power above.”

Unthinking, she snorted, replying, “Oh, boy, you are not ready to hear about Jesus.”

“Jesus? You mean my sister’s husband? I do hear some curious rumours about the man…”

Mattie hid her laugh behind a hand. Of course, this was hundreds of years before Jesus Christ came to be thought of. “I know, right? Jesus? More like JeSUS.” The scribe didn’t reply, mind clearly tired of its confusion and instead turning back to something it knew well. He picked up his writing patterns again. Mattie turned away, back to the doorway. “I will leave you to your writing again. Sleep well.” Leaving a small vial of dissolved sleeping pills on the desk, she stepped out of the door.

-

The only class that Mattie knew she would see Eva in was Religion. They didn’t actually share the class, but Mattie’s Religion teacher was Eva’s form tutor and the older girl often used the classroom as a quieter study area for her free period. Not that Mattie would call a class of thirty sophomores particularly peaceful, but apparently she hadn’t heard the noise of the senior study area, you genuinely don’t understand, last week Jacob Thomas tried to make toast using the sun on a desk and then, bam, the entire of senior year are creating chants about sun bread, it was so weird, Mattie, I transferred to a school of crackheads.

After her travel to the 7th century AD, Mattie sparked a sudden interest in her Religion classes. Eva, being the older sister that she was, watched closely as the sophomore stayed behind after class to search the Bible for something in particular.

“What’re you looking for?”

“Nothing!” Mattie didn’t look up from fervently turning the pages.

“Well, that’s a fucking lie.” Eva perched on the side of a desk, sliding across to snatch the book out of the younger girl’s hands. “Why the hell are you looking at what is essentially the movie credits for the Bible???”

Eva watched as Mattie bit her lip, eyes darting around the empty classroom. She thought for a long moment, visibly debating points in her head, before leaning over the top of the book to run her finger down a list of names. About a third of the way down the page, she stopped. Eva’s eyes followed her finger as it drew a circle around a certain name. Matte Wheyler  

“See. I was looking for that.”

Eva didn’t say anything for a while. Mattie waited with baited breath as Eva’s brain tried to make sense of what they saw. “Mattie Wheeler, what the bagel.” It didn’t bother to even be a question.

“It’s a really long story.” Mattie slumped onto the desk as well. “Hey, did you know that ‘Genesis’ would have originally been called ‘Generational Crisis’ if it wasn’t for me?”

After a glance at both of their timetables, they decided that their next lessons (biology and latin respectively) were worth missing. Instead, they stayed seated on a desk in the Religion classroom, as Mattie explained in detail how her name came to be in the Bible. It was refreshing to finally spill her secret after fifteen years of complete silence, and Mattie wondered vaguely in the back of her mind if one day Eva might be able to share in her time travelling adventures. That might take a little more explaining though, because Eva sure did have a lot of questions.

“So, you don’t change anything?”

“Not anything major. Like, I can’t stop Hitler or anything, that would change too big an event. Little things, however, like names and stuff, it’s fun to mess around with. Ever wondered why the Italian city, Pisa, has its name? I delivered pizza to the guys who were kind of like the government at the time of its naming. Hence, the Leaning Tower of Pizza.”

Eva cackled. “Wait, what?! God, dude, that’s nuts. What the fuck.”

“What can I say, all I really want in life is a little bit of chaos and also mozzarella sticks.”

-

Mattieeeee sent a photo.

evanescence: is that??? abraham lincoln????

Mattieeeee: Abraham Lincoln was an otter.

evanescence: how so?

Mattieeeee: Point one: look at him.

Mattieeeee: Point two: no seriously. Look at him.

evanescence: oh my god

evanescence: i cannot believe you have a literal selfie with abraham lincoln that’s fucking wild

Mattieeeee: Perks of the job :D

evanescence: literally hire me i want a selfie with cleopatra

-

farrah o’satanic ritual: yall i got out of the shower like an hour ago and i still haven’t changed

Imposter: What can I say, bath robes are in fashion rn

farrah o’satanic ritual: ive told you before clark stop pretending you know how to dress

Mattieeeee: Farrah did you not die in the shower?

katherine: ????mattie???????

farrah o’satanic ritual: no?? i didn’t

SmileyRiley: dang it

katherine: riLEY-

caicrow: riley i thought we’d moved on from murder

Imposter: Plot twist: Mattie was the murderer all along

katherine: CLARK-

Mattieeeee: oops-

-

It wasn't meant to happen, she swore up and down it was a mistake. A true and honest accident. And it kinda was? I mean Mattie hadn’t intended for the scaffolding on the new tower being constructed in Pisa to wobble, she’d already fucked up Pisa once in her career, but… Well, that's what she got for letting loose Giles and Corey (her occasional time travelling companions, who also happened to be cats) in the middle of a Italian city in 1252. She could have sworn the catnip was safely concealed in one of the pockets inside her jacket (which was filled with all sorts of trinkets from her travels in the space-time continuum), yet somehow the two had still gotten into it. She guessed that's what she got for not hydrating-feel-greating and eating-to-defeating.

An old citizen eyed her suspiciously, taking in her struggle with the two cats. Or maybe she was just more focused on Mattie’s goggles - she doubted anyone in 13th century Pisa had seen such a bold fashion statement before. The tower continued to lean in the background.

Finally, Giles and Corey settled down, each in a pocket of her trench coat. Mattie breathed a sigh of relief, which only got halfway out of her before she was sucking it back in as the old lady from across the street began to approach her.

“Young lady.”

Mattie smiled sheepishly. “Hello, ma’am. Is everything alright?”

The lady looked mildly amused. “I couldn’t help but notice your two cats going mysteriously close to the tower before it started collapsing. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“Oh, no, ma’am. My cats are very well behaved.” Giles gave a resounding yelp at exactly the wrong time. A hiss from Corey echoed from the opposite pocket.

“Well,” the lady grinned, “If that’s the case, why don’t you leave the animals with me? You seem fairly preoccupied with the tower - perhaps you can try and assist its reconstruction?” She held out a hand.

Mattie thought for a moment and then handed across the two cats. “Thank you ever so much, ma’am. I’ll try and be quick.” The woman nodded and Mattie sped across the square to the drastically swaying tower.

When she arrived back at the woman’s table, there was a second lady in animated conversation with her. As Mattie approached, she stood up to take her leave, pressing a kiss to the first lady’s hair as she left. Something was definitely fruity there.

“All fixed!”

“I’m glad.” The woman nudged the cats back to their owner, looking intensely over Mattie’s shoulder to the stabilised tower. “It certainly looks sturdier.”

“I should hope so.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “Sometimes,” she said, staring pointedly at an area on the structure, “I think about crabs.”

“Oh?” Mattie tilted her head. “Do you?”

“Yes. And often when I think about crabs, I think that they shouldn’t be in Pisa, and they most definitely should not be crawling over the tower.”

Mattie gasped and followed her gaze, muttering curses under her breath. “I didn’t realise I’d brought a whole crab with me! I thought I’d taken the sea life off the rocks!”

The woman chuckled. “You seem to be a strange character. Child, where on Earth did you find not only rocks large enough to support a tower, but also a live crab in Pisa?”

Accepting her fate, Mattie decided to tell the truth. “They’re from Egypt.” At the woman’s questioning look, she expanded, “I’m a traveller of sorts.”

“Oh. Well, child, you’re a gift of a traveller. Brightened my day. Italy these days is far too serious. Maybe we should put more crabs on the leaning tower, huh?”

Tucking her cats back into their respective pockets, Mattie allowed herself to laugh. “Maybe we should.” With a nod and a smile, she wandered off, eagerly awaiting her portal.

-

“Why were you in Egypt anyway?” Eva asked as Mattie recounted yet another of her time-travel-gone-wrong experiences.

“Library of Alexandria.”

“Oh, yeah, because that explains so much.”

“Shut up.” She rolled her eyes. “It was 48 BC, Caesar was burning shit, this random Roman dude set fire to the library.” She pulled a book out of her backpack. “I saved this and stashed away a few of the slabs of rock. And apparently a crab.”

Eva took the book in awe. “Jesus Christ… This thing is, like, thousands of years old…”

“I know, right? Weird.” She watched as Eva flicked through the pages, tracing her finger over certain words or illustrations. “But it was such a beautiful library, I couldn’t let it just burn. So, I retaliated. Burnt the house of the soldier who set the original flame.”

“Mattie!”

She shrugged. “Setting someone’s house on fire is a survival skill.”

“Oh my God.”

“I would have done something more dramatic, but I had to get home. I had a cake which would need to come out of the oven.”

Eva laughed, the sound echoing around the empty classroom. They were skiving class again, this time PE, the one class they had which coincidentally fell at the same time for both year groups. “How are you so normal in school, but so badass when you time travel?”

“I dunno. All I can say is that cake and spite are my only motivators.”

“You’re like a superhero. ‘Time Travelling Mattie: The Only One Who Can Lead A Dual Life Successfully’!!!”

Mattie blushed, shrugging. She definitely needed to take Eva with her one day. A superhero duo. “Okay, that name needs some work. How about: ‘Sanchez And Wheeler, The Ultimate Time Travelling Duo’?”

“I think I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah?”

Eva nodded, shaking her hand like they were signing a business contract. “Yeah.”

[anironsidh]

AnironSidh 2020 fic and moodboard masterpost

I didn’t write very much this year between the general mess of 2020 and senior year, but here’s what I did manage to write this year (sorted by fandom). If there’s no chapter count for a fic, it’s a oneshot

Queen/BoRhap

Just Keep Losing My Beat || jimercury Hogwarts au. Freddie Mercury/Jim Hutton (jimercury), Brian May/Roger Taylor (maylor). Hogwarts au, found family, maylor, jimercury, i will post more soon. Chapters: 7/?

Summary: Hogwarts is not ready for Freddie Mercury. Not even close.In which Brian May is trying to be successful, Roger Taylor is just confused, John Deacon doesn't want the spotlight, and Freddie Mercury just wants to find somebody to love and make his place in the world.

(Love Of My Life) Don't Leave Me || hardzello (for borhap summer cast event) for the @queenandborhapevents and written for @johndeaconshands. Hardzello, fluff, happy ending, love confessions, first kiss

Summary: Joe's worried about what kind of future he and Ben may have once the movie is no longer keeping them in the same place, and he may find something more waiting for him to ask. - Written for johndeaconshands on tumblr for the BoRhap Summer Event 2020

Love Was Such An Easy Game To Play || tyob 2020 gift fic for xofunghoul / @heybuddy-drabbles. This fic was for the @queenandborhapevents two years of borhap event. hardzello, flashbacks, fluff, picnic, proposal.

Summary: A look back at how Ben and Joe figured things out, got together, made a home with each other, and in which Joe has just one question in mind. - A gift fic for xofunghoul and the two years of borhap exchange on tumblr (modded by @maz-zello and myself). Prompt was for hardzello, fluff, domestic moments. I think I did pretty well, let me know what y'all think in the comments!

Phandom/Dan and Phil

For The Dreams of Youth || phandom reverse bang 2020 parent!phan au for the @phandomreversebang 2020. art by @akikaji and beta @rainbowchristy. Dan/Phil, fluff, parent!phan Chapters 2/3

Summary: Dan isn't quite sure about a kid of his own. It hadn't felt like a possibility, not until recently. He may find that he's more ready than he expected. Dan and Phil's journey towards parenthood told through a series of videos to one day hand over to their child.

I Wonder When We're Gonna Make It || phandom reverse bang 2020 (1980s au), for the phandomreversebang 2020. Dan/Phil, queen references, 1980s au, period typical homophobia, happy ending, angst with fluff. Chapters 1/2. art by @luisaloveshoney and betaed by @i-might-leave-soon / @eilidh 

Summary: When a new neighbor moves into the town that Daniel Howell has lived in his entire life and finds his safe spot in the town's vineyard, he will challenge Dan's view of himself and his town. Soon enough, they find themselves in an attraction nothing like Dan's ever known and one that those around them cannot understand. This may be Dan's only chance to escape and truly be himself. - A fic for a phandom reverse bang 2020 prompt in which Dan and Phil live near a vineyard, sneak grapes, drink stolen wine, and fall in love despite the times (1980s). Also, in which I project my love for queen onto Dan, because Muse doesn't exist yet and because I can.

I Ain't Gonna Face No Defeat a good omens au for the @phandomreversebang 2019, masterpost and art by @hiwatari-art here. Dan/Phil, good omens au, post bookshop scene, Crowley!Dan x Aziraphale!Phil. betaed by phanandpenguins/ @ringsandbutterflies

Summary: Daniel Howell has been stationed on earth for six thousand years, his only constant companion Phil Lester, an angel of Heaven. When his angel is nearly taken away from him he begins to realize just how important Phil is to him. -the bar scene in ep6 of good omens where Aziraphale is discorperated and Crowley is in the bar mourning him- Please be sure to check the art by hiwatari! Thanks to phanandpenguins for their beta work!

Good Omens

Songs Full Of Sad Things || Ineffable Husbands Raphael!Crowley for the good omens big bang. Crowley was Raphael, eventual happy ending, angst and fluff, wip. Chapters 8/15

Summary: -Crowley and Aziraphale are quite happy in their new Tadfield cottage five years after Armageddon, or rather, the armageddon-that-wasn't. They've settled into a routine with each other and the Them. Everything seems fine. Anathema and Newton are even getting married soon. -And then everything Crowley has built up for the last 6,000 years comes tumbling down with a visit from Gabriel and the revelation of his past, of how high he Fell. He hadn't wanted to remember his past as an archangel. Not now. His past is told bit by bit while those brought together by the almost-end of the world must pick up the pieces. - aka Crowley was the archangel Raphael, Gabriel's a dick, and Aziraphale just wants to help. Also, Warlock WILL fight anyone who hurts his Nanny, even God.

As You Wish || Good Omens/Princess Bride au, inspired by @anotherwellkeptsecret. Princess bride au, another one I promise i will get back to, eventual happy ending. Chapters 2/?

Summary: Warlock is sick and Nanny Ashtoreth reads him a story of romance and swordfights, perhaps inspired by a certain angel she knows. In which Aziraphale is Buttercup and in love with the handsome Crowley, a farm boy. When he is reported dead, killed by the Dread Pirate Nutter, Aziraphale falls into despair and eventually agrees to marry the devious Prince Gabriel. He is kidnapped by a con artist, Beelzebub, and their two henchmen in order to start a war. Crowley, who survived his rumored attack, rescues him from the trio. They must now free Aziraphale from Gabriel's clutches if they wish to have a new life with each other. Inspired by anotherwellkeptsecret on tumblr (penumbra on ao3)

Before I Lose You || gomens holiday swap gift for @gregayy and the Good Omens Holiday Exchange. post-canon, fluff with a sprinkling of angst but there’s barely any tbh, ineffable husbands, (technically for the gomens 2019 holiday swap, but it was posted on the third of january so I’m including it)

Summary: Armageddon has been averted, and yet their troubles are far from over. Heaven and Hell want their revenge for a Plan foiled. Crowley knows this far too well, knows he has far too little time for what he's wanted for so many centuries... Aziraphale. Believing they may not live to see another sunset, they take a step usually taken by humans. They've only got this one chance, don't they?aka they get married, believing they may not have another chance to, as requested by gregayy/scmnz

Can't You See || good omens ficlet for @wheeloffortune-design. Ineffable husbands, ficlet, happy ending, first kiss

Summary: Crowley being brave - wheeloffortune-design on tumblr. Based on this art, I think I wrote this instead of studying for a midterm lmao

Hobbit/LOTR

By His Side || Happy Hobbit Holiday 2020 Bagginshield fic for KeyWolf25888 for the @haveahappyhobbitholiday 2020 exchange. Gen, M/M, Bilbo/Thorin, happy ending, fluff, bilbo stays in erebor fic

Summary: Bilbo Baggins is just staying in Erebor for now, just until he knows every member of the Company will be alright after the Battles, but his feelings for a certain dwarven king may change his plans just slightly.Or, a Bilbo Stays In Erebor fic as requested by KeyWolf25888 for the Have A Happy Hobbit Holiday 2020 exchange! I haven't done much Hobbit fic in a while, but it was nice to get back to these characters. 

Reylo

you're nothing, but not to me || reylo fix-it. Rey/Ben Solo, poe/finn, tros fix it fic bc i was mad after watching that movie, I promise I’ll get back to it soon I just need to work out the plot (and it could also use a beta, if anyone’s interested) Chapters 3/?

Summary: The aftermath of the victory. They may have won, but what comes next? What happens when the battle is won, when the fight is over, but a former enemy is brought into their midst? What happens when Rey brings a near-death Ben Solo back with her? The remaining Resistance is not willing to forgive him easily for what he has done as Kylo Ren. It will not be easy, but it must be done.

Moodboards

Phandom/Dan and Phil

Phandom Reverse Bang 2020 Pride Au Moodboard, fics by @judearaya and @counting2fifteen Summary: Dan goes to pride for the first time, traveling to London on his own. He hasn't come out to his family yet, just a random person online called amazingphil. At pride, he sees a man (Phil) on a float and decides he has to talk to him. Eventually (maybe after a few times hanging out/dates) he finds out that Phil is amazingphil. The moodboard for my prb 2020 pride au, with fics by counting2fifteen and judearaya!

Queen

Royal Maylor au honeymoon in Japan

Queen Iliad au with hardzello, maylor, and deacury

Brian’s Birthday moodboard

Maylor Hamilton au

Jimercury Sad moodboard (hurts like hell)

Reylo

Titanic au

Moodboard for You’re Nothing, but not to me

Reylo good omens au

Moodboard for the Heartbreak Prince, fic by the wonderful @kylorenvevo (Thea)

Reylo Frankenstein au, idea partially by @indefinitelyindia

[bthump]

How have you come to read Berserk? Do you remember what your thoughts and impressions were while reading this story for the first time?

ty for your interest!

I actually watched the 97 anime first. I watched it with a friend like a decade ago and I don’t remember those first impressions very well because a lot of weed was involved lol. But I do know I thought I’d be bored by it and ended up surprisingly invested and engaged. I of course shipped griffguts and I was definitely shocked at how close to canon it was, with scenes like Casca’s cave monologue and Griff’s torture chamber monologue.

Then I found the Band of the Hawk scanlation and read that bc I wanted more, though I often found it confusing. I actually just checked and realized I still have a little wordpad doc I wrote notes in back then while I was reading it. So here’s some highlights:

- I adored both Guts and Griffith, and I called Guts “Gatts,” thanks to the scanlation.

- I found their trauma backstories really fascinating since I’d never rly seen that with male characters before.

- I hated Puck a lot lol :(

- From around the Lost Children arc: Hell, he's doing the same as Griffith did - building a mountain of bodies. I predict that he will eventually use the Behelit, and his sacrifice will be... Griffith! Because enemies can also be the most important person to you. But then he will turn it down. Also if he takes Jill, she'll be the Casca to his Griffith. Waaaiiit... if they explicitly state that it's a possibility Gatts'll use the Behelit and get all demon-y... well, obviously the temptation will be soon, and he'll say no. Not a climax as such. Just an event. Damn. Well, unless a central theme of the rest of this is Gatts' temptation to monsterize himself.

well hey I called Guts getting his own Casca parallel follower, I just didn’t know it would be Farnese.

- I was seeing Casca and Griffith parallels apparently, but I was being vague so I don’t know what parallels exactly. Maybe just the ‘shell of former self’ thing.

- very exasperated by how no man can interact with Casca without trying to rape her.

- went ham during hill of swords ofc but surprisingly not at Guts forgetting his urge to kill lol: OH MY FUCKING GOD THIS CHAPTER IS CALLED REUNION ON THE HILL OF SWORDS OMFG REUNION OMG OMG OMGOMGOMGOMGOMOMGOMGOMOGMOGMOGMOMGOD OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOD OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD

- bb me still knew what was up re: Griff: He's not sociopathic, he's just so singleminded that he'll do anything for his goal. I was going to say that he's so single minded that he doesn't care what he does for his goal, but that's not true - he DOES care, he just does it anyway.

- I was getting bored with the Millenium Falcon arc and didn’t care about any of the new characters aside from kind of liking Serpico and absolutely hating Isidro. I didn’t say anything about Farnese but I do have a vague memory of getting excited that there was another female soldier character followed immediately by disappointment that she can’t actually fight. So if I didn’t like her back then that’s probably why.

- I was a little disappointed when Guts got the berserk armour because fight scenes aren’t as cool when the protag has a magic power up. I was right tbh.

- I seem to have quit writing around the beach chapters. I think I did actually drop it around there probably, I’d already taken one break and I was forgetting stuff and generally losing the thread of the story iirc.

also I believed Griffith was very likely to get redeemed at the end? Here’s my “reasoning” lol:

Consise, laid-out reasoning why Griffith will be redeemed. He'll probably die right afterwards, but he will certainly sacrifice himself in an act of redemption. 1. The slug-dude did so for his daughter in an act of foreshadowy self-sacrifice. 2. Skull-knight dude tells Gatts that he perhaps has the power to stop fate or whatever. 3. Griffith's whole friendship speech that throws everything in motion. It's super important, but one aspect that is truly important is that for him to call someone a friend, he has to be an equal - following his own dream, etc. When he becomes Femto, this gives Gatts the motivation he needs to get real. If Femto/Griffith eventually sees Gatts as his equal, this metaphorically equals friendship. Of course this will manifest in a respectful arch-enemy thing, once Femto learns to truly fear Gatts, but the metaphor is still there and it will come out when he eventually DOES sacrifice himself because he can't bear to lose his one equal/bff/etc. It will be very Final Gameish. 4. The only man who made Griffith forget his dream is Gatts. Gatts has a huge amount of power over Griffith in regards to his desire to rule everything. 5. Portions of the story are still seen from Griffith's point of view - indeed, a humanized Femto - and this gives me great hope that during these bits we'll see more greyscale characterization. 6. Also in a weird way they kind of have a child together apparently. Idk. 7. Based on the whole sequence before The Golden Age, Gatts gets dark. And ruthless. Mirroring Griffith's transformation, just a bit. 8. Also the fact that Gatts has a freaking

I didn’t fail to copypaste it properly, I just never finished that sentence. But it was probably “behelit” if I gotta guess. Final Game def references the never-made 70s Doctor Who episode where the Master was going to sacrifice himself to save the Doctor, fyi, not the Sherlock Holmes story. Me lowkey comparing every hero/villain dynamic to Doctor/Master when I was 20 is presumably why I assumed they’d get to a respectful arch nemeses vibe lmao.

I guess tbf I wasn’t talking about a redemption arc so much as a humanizing death lol, I just wouldn’t call that a redemption now. I don’t completely disagree with my past self, though I def had some dumb ideas.

It sucks that I dropped it before all the good parts of the MF arc tbh, Griffith vs Ganishka and Guts and Zodd teaming up etc. I wonder what I would’ve thought of it.

Anyway yeah lol, ty for asking and prompting me to find this lol, it was fun to reminisce!

Oh also if you want to see my more recent and technically third impressions lol I did start this blog just to liveblog my more meta-y re-read of Berserk. Here’s the tag for that in chronological order.

[steponmepinkjun]

Sara I hope you dont mind me dropping this kind of ask, I just dont have anyone to talk abt this topic in particular and i have seen you open up about being neurodivergent multiple times.

All this time I believe that im neurotypical and always have to progress through life the way neurotypical people do, but from like 2 years ago i'm starting to question if i really am one bcs when I read about neurodivergency I slowly began to see myself in the description. How does one get um.. Diagnosed? I feel like theres sth abt myself that i havent figured out yet and I just want to know and love myself better.

Also forgive me for not being articulate enough, this is something im working out on.

Okay so I am obviously not a doctor or expert on neurodivergency, but I've gleaned a bit of knowledge from the nearly three decades I've spent being ND. So heres my advise.

First, I would begin with identifying why you'd like to seek an official diagnosis. Depending on what it is you're trying to diagnose, there are advantages and disadvantages.

Officially being diagnosed with ADHD gave me a sense of understanding I never had, gave a name to the symptoms that had been, quite honestly, ruining my life, and most importantly gave me access to the medication that completely turned my life around and made me a functioning human being. Even though I was diagnosed late in life (ie after school/developing years), I was still very lucky—my psychiatrist saw what the six previous ones I'd seen didn't. Before that, I was in treatment for depression and anxiety since age 11, had seen 13 therapists, and been on over 15 medications, to no avail. I'm lucky because a lot of obtaining a diagnosis for ADHD relies on self-reporting and reports from your parents—which is fucking stupid considering adhd is genetic, so my adhd parent probably isn't going to see my behavior as abnormal, IF they can even remember my behavior or payed attention to it. Despite those things, I was able to finally get diagnosed at age 22, and it changed my life. However, despite the fact that I suspected since I was a teenager that I might be on the autism spectrum (my brother, father, and several members of his family are), I made the conscious decision not to seek an official diagnosis. The medical community at large is incredibly ignorant and biased in regards to diagnosing autism in women, getting a diagnosis is ridiculously expensive, and unfortunately where I live an autism diagnosis can put you at significant disadvantage in the court system (it's often used as proof that an individual isn't mentally competent enough to do things like stand trial or be given sole custody of their own children, among other things). Plus, autism itself isn't treatable, so in my eyes I saw no benefit to getting a piece of paper telling me what I already knew. That's a personal choice that no one can judge another for—your reasons for seeking diagnosis are entirely valid whatever they are, and you owe an explanation to no one. I only wish to point out that not all diagnosis carry the same cost/benefit.

Getting a diagnosis can be a huge uphill battle, and it usually takes stamina and mental fortitude to get there. But everyone needs and deserves to have a community, a sense of understanding, and a support network, and wanting that alone is a more than valid reason to pursue a diagnosis.

So here's what I'd do. Get yourself in to see a psychiatrist (a therapist will do IF they have the training to diagnose, not all do), and do some research beforehand. Things as simple as googling "I think I might have/be (insert neurodivergent term here, for me this would be ADHD or autistic)" can give you some good starting points for what traits/symptoms are common. And as you're doing your research, take notes! If you see something jump out at you that you super relate to or that puts a feeling you've always had into words, write it down, copy the phrase, include things like how often you feel that way and what age you were when you began experiencing that. If there are ND behaviors that your immediate family share, that is very relevant, and actually gives a lot of context as to if something is a ND trait, trauma response, or shared personality quirk. Bring those notes with you to your appointment, reference them, and take notes of your own with the Dr's feedback. If you feel like you're being dismissed, tell them that, if you feel dissatisfied with their assessment, say so, and ask what your options are going forward. You probably won't walk away with a solid answer in just one day, but it's a good place to start.

It usually doesn't hurt to seek out community online, either, provided you take it all with a grain of salt—I've found that doctors tend to minimize symptoms, while peers online tend to maximize them. Ie, the way ND tiktok has become a slew of "do you breathe oxygen? Here's why that might be a sign you have adhd" type vids. Get second and third and fourth opinions before you take something to heart, you know?

And (even though this may go without saying), while I am no doctor, I have amassed more knowledge of my own disorders (as well as cptsd, ho lawdy its a fuckin doozy) than perhaps any one person should, so if you're at all in my vein or neurodivergency then please feel free to reach out to me directly, I'm always open to offering advise or a friendly ear or a sounding board for thoughts and ideas.

[sootbird]

Hi sootbird :) I was wondering how you study Japanese, like, what materials or books do you use, do you attend a class or are a disciplined self-study person? I've tried several methods and apps and such and so far, nothing really turned into a routine for me...

Hello!! To answer your question about my own personal Japanese study, I took five years of Japanese classes at my university and have a bachelor’s degree in it. Right now, I’m self-studying, because I’m still not where I want to be in terms of fluency. It takes a fair bit of discipline, but I think it’s fun and I’m a big nerd so I like to study it every day. ;;

I’m so excited you’re interested in learning Japanese!! It’s such a neat language. I’m not entirely sure how to advise self-study straight from the beginning, but I can try! I’m sure there are lots of resources online for learning Japanese (it’s a fairly popular language to learn these days), but I also have a slew of books that I can recommend to you. Some are books that I used at school in my classes, and others are books that I acquired on my own over the years. The textbooks tend to be more expensive bc they have a lot of material, but I do think they’d be useful for beginning self-study, because you do need some sort of foundation before you can branch out on your own. I do think that having materials made me feel like I was properly studying it and I think has encouraged me to keep up with my self-study!

Textbooks:

Nakama books

These are the textbooks I used in my beginning classes. Nakama 1 was for first year, and Nakama 2 was for the second year. I think they’re pretty good books, and you can rent them for a semester on Amazon it looks like.

Genki books

I haven’t used these textbooks, but I have friends who did use them in their Japanese classes, and I’ve heard good things about them. I recommend checking the reviews and seeing which book series (Nakama or Genki) you wanna go with. Of course, if you feel like splurging, you can always get both and cross-reference them.

Other books: These are other books that I use to supplement my study. AKA you don’t need them right away.

A Dictionary of Basic Japanese Grammar -- Makino/Tsutsui

A Dictionary of Intermediate Japanese Grammar -- Makino/Tsutsui

The Handbook of Japanese Verbs -- Kamiya

A Dictionary of Japanese Particles -- Kawashima

All About Particles -- Chino

The Handbook of Japanese Adjectives and Adverbs -- Kamiya

Japanese Sentence Patterns for Effective Communication -- Kamiya

The first step you wanna take before anything else is learning how to read and write the Japanese syllabaries. Japanese doesn’t use an alphabet like English does. Instead of the written characters representing individual sounds, they represent syllables. Let me illustrate this with an example: the Japanese word for “heart” is こころ. As you can see, there are three characters there. When written in Roman letters, it is spelled “kokoro.” Six letters in our alphabet, but only three Japanese characters. The syllables in that word are “ko,” “ko,” and “ro.” You can see how the writing system is syllable-based.

Japanese has two syllabaries. The first is called hiragana. The second is called katakana. The syllables represented by these two systems are exactly the same, but the syllabaries are used differently. Hiragana tends to be used more, and katakana tends to be used for loan words (words from other languages that have been integrated into Japanese). I’ll use “kokoro” as an example again.

Here is “kokoro” in hiragana: こころ

Here is “kokoro” in katakana: ココロ

The use of hiragana versus katakana is something you’ll get used to with experience, but it’s important to know BOTH syllabaries. I didn’t learn katakana well enough at the beginning and it haunts me to this day. Don’t rely too heavily on romaji (the writing of Japanese words in Roman letters) because the Japanese don’t use it. Only use it as a pronunciation tool at the beginning. I do use romaji on a romaji-to-Japanese keyboard I have on my phone, but that’s really just a matter of convenience and for quicker typing.

Learn both of the syllabaries and practice writing the letters as you go. I recommend using a fun pen! After that, the textbooks can tell you what to do next. (The textbooks do tell you how to learn hiragana and katakana as well at the start, if you need more guidance than the internet gives you.)

Here are some other important resources that will be a big help to you:

Dictionary app: A Japanese dictionary is gonna be really important and I find that it’s handy to have one on your phone. I don’t know about Android, but the App Store has a few of them. I use one that’s just called “Japanese Dictionary” and it’s got a red icon.

Online dictionary: If you can’t get your hands on a dictionary app or if you’re on the computer, you can use this great online Japanese dictionary called Jisho. I use it frequently when I’m on my computer.

Flashcard app: Flashcards are gonna be your best friend. I recommend getting a good flashcard app. The one I use is Anki, and I have it on my phone and on my computer. You can download it for free on your computer and I think it’s free for Android. I have an iPhone and I had to pay 25 bucks for the app but I’ve heard that there’s a free version on the App Store too? It might just have ads, but I’m not sure. Anyway, Anki is great because it will make note of the flashcards you’re having trouble with and give them to you with more frequency. There are also a lot of decks that people have uploaded to the Anki website, so you can find all sorts of community-made Japanese decks that you can import (I think you have to import a deck on the desktop version, but then you can sync it up to your phone). 

And finally, some things to keep in mind before starting Japanese. 

Japanese is generally agreed upon to be a pretty difficult language to learn (for English speakers at least). As a native English speaker, I would agree that it is kinda hard. The general sentence structure of English is subject-verb-object. In Japanese, that structure is subject-object-verb. Since the verb is at the end of the sentence, it can be tricky to switch your brain around to the order.

A lot of people will also tell you that kanji is a nightmare. Kanji are the third element of the Japanese writing system, and are characters borrowed from Chinese. In fact, Japanese did not have a written form until the 5th century, and all of it came from Chinese. Kanji characters however, have mostly retained their resemblance to Chinese characters. They more closely resemble traditional Chinese characters, and visually look like a step between traditional Chinese characters and simplified Chinese characters.

Anyway, they may look quite complicated and there are a lot of them. But you will learn to love them, and they’re so fun to write. This is a kanji-positive zone so if you ever get stressed about kanji come chat with me and I will reassure you.

Here is a book I am currently using to effectively memorize kanji, and I highly recommend it. It’s beginner-friendly.

So, you may get stressed out by Japanese and maybe by all the information I just gave you, but don’t worry!! It’s a very fun language to learn and anyone can learn it if they put their mind to it! I believe in you! Come back and ask me if you have any questions.

Thank you for the ask and I hope this helps!!

[marcholasmoth]

OSRR: 2535

today i was so fuckin productive, like holy shit.

i woke up this morning. at 7am. not at 1pm, or 2pm, or 3:30pm, like i have in the last week.

7am.

and i got up.

i took my meds and i got pancakes.

and i came back and started working on my capstone. i asked for a pad of sticky notes and i grabbed a pen and i scribbled out all the thoughts in my head of things i needed to include in my paper. i ended up with 24 sticky notes across three sheets of paper (because they wouldn't stick to the table), and i organized them into groups that flowed together and i cut them out as columns and stapled them together. and then i went through after kind of giving my mom a run-down of what i wanted to include, and i wrote down the subcategories i wanted to include along with specific details. and then i took that whole ass tiny sticky note flip book and turned it into a word document outline. i added the smaller details and stuff and then i made a second document where i went and looked up images and stuff of details or equations i needed to know in order to effectively write each section.

i got about a quarter of the way through looking for images and information by the time i talked to dr noah, and i told him of my success in the morning of a new outline and brainstorming, and he was proud of me for being able to do that, because that exact sort of thing is commonly used by scientists to write up proposals and stuff. so nice.

he also opened a sandbox to me in canvas and posted the materials i was going to need from matlab and the capstone course so they wouldn't keep expiring on me, so i have that all now too. which will be good.

after talking to dr noah, i kept working. my mom left at some point and i switched gears because i was thinking about unh and the fall and my job and my meds and i ended up sending like twelve emails to five different people. i wrote to one of the people with a scholarship fund at the school for community college students who go to the college of engineering and physical sciences, and i told her that i wouldn't need a lot of money for the fall. after finding the courses i wanted and putting them into a schedule, i sent an email to the person to register me for classes, and we went back and forth a bit about that, so i'm all registered for classes. i sent a request in for my medication to be renewed, and later i got a notification that it was ready. i took the partially filled out schedule from my classes and determined what hours i'd want for work for the fall, and i took that and sent an email to our new supervisor. i went in and i did calculations on my schedule for costs and payments and stuff and seeing how my fall would turn out to be. i also sent an email to the financial aid department declining the work-study i got because that would require me getting a job on campus and i'm not about to do that, especially because that would take away time from a better paying job that i already have that isn't so far away. so that's taken care of. and i worked on searching for images and information in between as my mind allowed me to.

i was about two-thirds done with the information search by the time i went to take a shower and then leave to go for pottery. i didn't end up painting. i did, however, sit and hang out and talk and work on my outline further. i finished it and finished collecting the information and i sent them off in an email to dr noah for consideration and critique. i still have a lot of reading, but i now have a direction and specific things i need information on.

i did, thankfully, get to talk to joel today, if only a little bit. i'm sad i haven't gotten to see him quite yet, but with the work i got done today, i can justify it. sometimes i just wanna sit with him. like now. i'd like to sit and cuddle with him. just exist together in the same space. god i love him so much. when i think about going to see him, it feels like coming home.

i just love him a lot. and yknow? he makes me happy.

(also casually referred to friend on discord as "my heart" not too long ago bc i like them and they give me butterflies ok i'm definitely polyam)

[jynzandtonic]

(Questioning gender anon) Argh curse tumblr!! Luckily I saved what I had wrote to your response in my notes lol (I prewrote my response to help flesh out my thoughts better)

Firstly, Thank you so much for being so kind and supportive ♥️ it really means a lot x

Secondly, I apologise I won't be able to explain my experience as articulately as yours but I'll try my best haha and thank you for sharing your experience because it really helped to make things make sense to me.

I'm a girl and I've been pretty okay with that since I first knew what gender really was but for the past 6-7ish years I've felt that just being a girl was too confining for me, like you said, it felt like an itching sweater and too claustrophobic. I questioned my gender a fair bit when I first sort of got the realisation that maybe there's more to me I guess ?? But I had to stop thinking about it bc long story short my home life wasn't exactly inviting to anything other than what was considered "normal" unfortunately but very recently, I've been thinking more and more about it and who I am.

Identifying as just a woman feels too limiting for me. Some days, I wake up and feel that I'm not that ya know? There are days where being referred to as 'she' just doesn't sit right and I prefer for people to call me 'him' but I'm too afraid to tell people based on how I grew up, but I feel more free now living on my own and I have that freedom to find answers. Sorry if this isn't make sense, it's very new to me and I'm just quite overwhelmed about it.

I also wanted to ask, do you have any resources or anything for gender identity? I'm not really sure where to start.

Thank you so so much for helping me Z! You have all of my love too <3 xxxooo

It genuinely means the world to me that you’ve shared your story with me--so much of it resonates, and you are VERY articulate! <3

It’s so, so, so hard to explore and start to assert your gender identity when your home life/social environment isn’t necessarily understanding or encouraging/supportive of it. 

The self-reflection you’re doing right now is amazing and SO brave, and I’m so proud of you for it. If you didn’t feel overwhelmed at times, you wouldn’t be human. 

Your experience with gender sounds wonderfully expansive and fluid--there are different days when different pronouns feel better, and being put in one binary gender box feels constrictive. I’m absolutely not here to tell you who you are or how you should identify, but it seems that you do fall outside of the strict gender binary that so many of us find limiting.

If you’re ever feeling wonky about your gender or pronouns, what I might suggest is this: try thinking up some sentences about yourself in the third person and see how they make you feel. Just simple things like...

“She went to the grocery store.”

“They went to the grocery store.”

“He went to the grocery store.”

What feels natural and good to you in the moment? This is something I do allll the dang time when I’m feeling confused or dysphoric. For me, I find the sentences I feel most comfortable with use they/them pronouns, like “they have pink hair,” or “they write cheesy fanfic on tumblr” (hehe). It’s 100% okay if your pronoun preferences flow and change over time or even day-to-day. It’s all fluid, baby!

Again, remember that your gender identity belongs to YOU. You don’t owe ‘coming out’ to fuckin’ anyone. It’s your choice. It’s often a scary one. If you want to make the leap, I’m here for you. If it’s something you only want to talk to close friends about, I’m here for you. If it’s something you want to keep to yourself, I’m here for you. You are loved and cherished, and whatever decision feels right in your heart is the right decision period.

I think one of the best ‘masterlists’ of resources for nonbinary/trans folx is here, at genderqueer.me. The Stonewall Foundation has always been a sort of North Star for me, and Life Outside the Binary is an AAAAHmazing tumblr if you’d like to check it out!

I hope this is of some help to you, and I hope you know I’m thinking of you. <3 Sending my love, friend. xoxoxoxo

[imaginedisish]

I Think We’re Alone Now (Five Hargreeves x Reader) (The Umbrella Academy)

A/N: BOY AM I MAD. SO this got deleted...presumably because @staff is trash and someone was like “EW SHE’S WRITING FOR A FIFTEEN YEAR OLD!” News flash AIDAN GALLAGHER IS A YEAR BELOW ME IN HIGH SCHOOL. I AM A JUNIOR. HE IS A SOPHOMORE. I JUST TURNED 17. HE IS TURNING 16 IN A FEW MONTHS....IM NOT SOME CREEPY CHILD PEDOPHILE. AND YA KNOW WHAT, THERE IS NOTHING SEXUAL ABOUT THIS IMAGINE! It is PURE FLUFF, and Five and the reader are BOTH 17 IN THIS AU!! I AM NOT SEXUALIZING HIM IN ANY WAY HOLY CRAP. Wow...I’m clearly mad...um...sorry?? I’m just honestly exhausted from my dance competition today. I WON FIRST OVERALL THOUGH...SO YAY! I might write a small headcanon for tonight...but I’m so tired...I might have to take a short break from writing until Sunday, since I’m competing at this competition all weekend. I’ll keep everyone updated. So, for now, here’s a repost of I Think We’re Alone Now...enjoy

Summary: You and Five are seventeen, and have just started dating, but you feel the need to hide your relationship from the rest of the Hargreeves. One night, you decide to sneak into Five’s room, and chaos somewhat ensues…

Warnings: MEGA FLUFFFFFFF AHHhhhh! Language, awkward reference to sex from Luther bc Luther is Luther…smh Luther. 

Word Count: 2,883

Stars twinkle brightly above you, dancing whimsically in the dark night sky. The crisp autumn breeze passes through you, sending a chill down your spine. You shiver as you stare up at the brick building in front of you. Your heart begins to beat rapidly as you contemplate what is was you were about to do. You were going to sneak into Five’s room.

Five had told you, “It’s the second window from the left, south side of the Academy, third floor. Come around 9:30, okay?” No matter how nervous you were about the matter, you simply couldn’t say no.

 You knew you’d have to be discrete, since the rest of the Hargreeves were unaware of your relationship with Five. They knew you were close friends with him; you were friends with the entire family, especially since they were helping you develop your power, levitation. However, because you had grown so close with the family, you and Five agreed that his siblings couldn’t find out about your relationship. 

In truth, there was no ‘known’ force stopping you and Five from being together. You were both 17, you were both supers, and you were both extremely similar. You liked the same music: David Bowie, Arctic Monkeys, Arcade Fire, and The Strokes. You were both unbelievably witty, as you constantly bounced remarks and comebacks off of one another. Most importantly, you liked each other. In fact, you thought there was a chance you could love the boy. 

But still, you had agreed with Five that no one could know. Maybe it was the fear of judgement that created the secret, or possibly the fear of disapproval. You knew that Five’s siblings had developed a liking to you, as you had essentially become a part of the family, but you weren’t sure if they would like you as Five’s girlfriend.

So, over the past month, as opposed to going on dates like normal couples do, you and Five had snuck around the city together, going on dates to Griddy’s, and having picnics in the park. Sometimes you two secretly hid away in his room, chatting and listening to music. You hated hiding things from Alison, Diego, Luther and Klaus, but as of right now it seemed as though it had to be done. 

A cold breeze snaps you back to reality. The wind begins to pick up again, grabbing at your green, turtle neck sweater. You pull at your sweater, softly pressing it down against your body as your hair begins to take flight next. You groan in annoyance, wanting to be inside with Five instead of out in the cold.

You take a deep breath. I can do this, You think to yourself, yanking up the right sleeve of your sweatshirt, and then nervously scratching your forearm. While you were growing better at controlling your abilities, you weren’t always able to hold them for an extraneous period of time. Levitating yourself was also something that challenged you. More often than not, you would usually fall once you were around four feet in the air. 

Obviously, that was nowhere near enough for a journey up the side of the Academy. The Academy was massive, and it’s size still amazed you, regardless of the fact that you had been here millions of times before. 

You search the ground for a pebble, so you could let know Five you had arrived in a more romantic way, as opposed to sending him a text message. You quickly find a perfectly smooth, grey, round pebble next to your feet. You pick up the pebble and aim towards Five’s window. With a light throw and a tap, the pebble reaches Five’s window. The action was a bit “Romeo and Juliet,” (minus the double suicide at the end, of course), but it was fitting in the moment.

Seconds later, a pair of dark blue eyes meet your own. Five smirks at first, but his smile quickly widens, almost as if the longer he stared at you, the happier he became. Your heart flutters in your chest, and you smile back. He begins to crack open the window, his bangs falling in front of his eyes in the process. 

“Come on up,” Five says loud enough for you to understand him, but low enough for no one else to hear him. You nod your head, swallowing harshly, nerves rushing through your body. 

You close your eyes, imagining yourself floating in the air. Slowly, your feet lift up from the concrete. The wind swirls around you, helping you grow higher. You open your eyes, noticing that you were just one floor away from where Five’s room resided. You push the air down with the palms of your hands, and you levitate up to the next level. 

I did it, I actually did it, You think to yourself, pride swelling in your gut as you finally reach Five’s window. After so much tiring training, and so much effort, you were finally able to fly. 

There was Five, his smile growing wider now that you were face to face. His piercing blue eyes twinkle in the moonlight, just as the stars had been. No, in fact…his eyes were more brilliant than the stars. Stars held so much importance, serving as guides for the lost, wish granters for those who longed for something more…but that was what Five was for you. You didn’t need the metaphorical presence of a constellation. You already had that, wrapped up in the package of a 17 year old boy that you were growing to love. 

He extends a hand out to you, inviting you inside. “Grab my hand, I’ve got you. You won’t fall, I promise.” He says. You fly closer to him in response, lifting your arm towards Five as he takes your hand in his. 

However, just as you had been doing so well, a sensation of weakness overcomes you. You feel yourself beginning to lose control as you attempt to change your position, as to fly into the room horizontally. 

“Shit,” You mutter, your eyes searching Five’s in fear. “I don’t think I can control this any longer,” Your voice is shaky, and your entire body begins to tremble. You had never flown for this long, and it was becoming too much to handle. 

“Yes you can, (Y/N),” Five says, squeezing your hand tighter in his own. He tugs on your hand slightly, helping you get a bit farther inside the room. At this point, your shoulders are through the window, but that was it. Thoughts race around your mind as your powers weaken even further. 

Suddenly, the pressure you normally feel between yourself and the air around you begins to fade away. 

“Five!” You scream, as you feel yourself starting to fall. You grab onto the windowsill, attempting to hold yourself up. Five grabs onto your arms, pulling you quickly, yet carefully into his room. With one final pull from Five, you fall onto the floor of the room. 

Five drops down to where you fell, reaching out his arms to help you stand up. “Are you okay?” He asks, concern prominently filling his voice as you stand to the ground with his help. 

You take a second to catch your breath. “I’m fine, just a bit shaken up is all,” You say, smiling lightly. “And I’m much better now…” You pause, a bit nervous to finish your sentence. “You know, since I’m with you.” 

Five smiles widely. “That was cheesy, but I like it, and only like it because I like you.” Your heart does a back flip in your chest at the sound of his words. Now that things have calmed down a bit, you recognize how close you are to Five. It feels as though you’re an inch away from Five’s face, since neither of you had moved from where he had helped you stand up. 

“You can’t call me cliche or cheesy if you’re saying things like that,” You state sarcastically, crossing your arms in protest. Five steps a bit closer, uncrossing your arms as he takes your hands in his. He was never like this with anyone else. He was usually so cold, so distant, so sarcastic with his siblings. But with you, Five was kind, sweet, and overall an entirely different person. You two could sit on the edge of his bed, listening to music for hours, his fingers carefully combing through your hair.  The only time either of you got up was to change the record that was spinning on the turntable in the left corner of Five’s room.

Five takes another step closer to you. He studies your face for a bit, his eyes often landing on your lips. This makes you a bit nervous, since you two hadn’t kissed yet. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. God, did you want to. It was more or less that you were scared. You had never kissed anyone before, and quite honestly, this was your first ‘real’ relationship. You didn’t want the kiss to be bad, and you especially didn’t want to disappoint Five. 

With one more step, Five becomes so close to your face that his breath tickles your nose a bit. He looks deeply into your eyes. “Can I just kiss you already?” Five asks, smirking a bit. 

Your heart practically thumps out of your chest as you nod your head. Shit, this is it, You think to yourself. 

 Suddenly, Five’s lips come crashing down on your own. His lips are warm, and surprisingly sweet, moving slowly against yours. You hum a bit, beginning to feel more comfortable. Five smiles against your lips before pressing another soft kiss onto them. 

Then, to your dismay, Five pulls away from you, leaving a slightly cold sensation where he had once been. You wanted more, but you knew you would just have to wait for the next time you had the opportunity to kiss Five. 

Five grins a bit, his hands still holding yours. “You’re absolutely incredible, (Y/N).” Heat quickly rushes to your cheeks, and you can feel yourself becoming red. Five laughs at your new color, his dark, chocolate bangs bouncing against his forehead in the process. 

“Don’t laugh!” You jokingly reprimand. 

“Too bad, I already did. You’re just…” Five pauses a bit, anxiously scratching the back of his neck. “…well you’re cute when you get all frazzled like that,” Five mumbles, hoping you can’t hear him as he lets go of your hands and walking over to one of his many bookshelves. He pulls out a record from the shelf. He picked out one of your favorite records, ‘Bookends’ by Simon and Garfunkel. 

“Is that new? I didn’t think you had Bookends,” You question. 

Five can’t help but smirk. “I may have gotten it because of you,” He says softly, walking over to brown turntable in the corner. He takes the record out of it’s sleeve, and carefully places it on the turntable. He turns the machine on, and the record begins to spin. He slowly allows the needle to come down on the record, and “Bookends Theme,” begins to play. 

There were no lyrics to the song, yet there was something so romantic about the incredibly short melody. Maybe it was the perfect plucking of the guitar strings, or maybe it was simply the chord progression itself. Regardless, the song made your heart flutter in your chest, more than it already was. Five walks over to his bed, and takes a seat on the edge. He pats the spot next to him, inviting you to sit with him. You smile, and walk over to the bed. 

As you sit down, Five instantly raps an arm around your waist. Your head rests against Five’s shoulder, and you close your eyes. You never wanted this moment to end. Everything seemed so absolutely perfect. 

Five began to lean back towards the bed, and you followed him, your back eventually crashing down onto the bed. You push yourself up farther so your feet are no longer hanging off the bed, and Five does the same. Five wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. Your eyes now struggle to stay open, as you hear the sound of sleep calling your name. You allow yourself to give in, closing your eyes tightly. 

You’re still awake as ‘Old Friends’ begins to play. The song is soft and calm. You listen closely to Five’s heart beat, which in contrast with the song is incredibly loud and fast. You open your eyes, looking up at Five. 

“Are you okay? Your heart is practically beating out of your chest,” You say, concern heavy in your voice, picking up your head slightly to get a better look at Five’s face. Five’s piercing blue eyes find yours. 

He swallows harshly. “I’m fine, it’s just,” He pauses for a second, contemplating his words as he looks up at the ceiling above. “Having you here with me, like this, I’m nervous…I guess…” Five trails off. “Having you here is exciting, it’s special.”

You smile resting your head back down on his chest. You close your eyes again, feeling at peace. “Hey Five?” You whisper. 

“Yeah, (Y/N)?” Five responds. 

“I like you, a lot,” You say, a smile spreading across your face. 

“I-,” 

Then, abruptly, Five is cut off by a loud knock at the door. You and Five practically jump up from where you had been laying down. 

“Five! Turn your music off. It’s too late for this shit!” You hear Diego call out from the other side of the door. You and Five say nothing as Five rushes over to the record player to turn the music off. “Also, did you take my comb again?”

“No I didn’t take your fucking comb, Diego!” Five shouts back, rolling his eyes. 

“I don’t believe you,” Diego says angrily. “I’m coming in to find it!”

“Shit!” Five mutters, his eyes widening with fear. 

“What are we going to do?” You ask as the knob of the door twists, and the door creeks open. There’s nowhere to hide. You’re absolutely screwed. 

Diego steps through the door, his eyes instantly landing on you. “Five, what’s (Y/N) doing in your room at 10 o’clock at night?” His eyes deeply cut through Five’s soul. Five takes a deep breath, preparing himself to explain the truth to Diego. 

“Well, um, you see-,” 

Klaus pops his head through the door. “Where did the Simon and Garfunkel go? I was having a good-,” Klaus stops talking as his eyes land on you. “Uh oh looks like we’ve go two troublesome teens on our hands, now don’t we?” Klaus cackles like a hyena.

Five scoffs. “Don’t you have some ouija board to be talking to right about now?” Five says, annoyed, taking a step towards Klaus. 

Klaus crosses his arms against his chest. “You know what, just for that,” Klaus cups his hands, bringing them next to his mouth as if he was going to call a group of children to dinner. “Luther! Allison! Clean up on aisle ‘teenage love’! Immediate assistance required! Thank you!” He brings his hands back down, slapping them against the side of his thighs. 

Five responds by showing Klaus his middle finger. 

Seconds later, Luther and Allison are standing at the door. Luther’s jaw drops to the ground, and Alison begins to laugh lightly. 

“Come on, you guys didn’t see this coming?” Allison asks, laughing still.

“Quite honestly, I suppose it was bound to happen eventually,” Klaus agrees. Luther and Diego nod along to Klaus’s point. 

“I mean, do we let them have their privacy?” Diego asks, leaning over to Luther. Luther shrugs his shoulders. 

“I guess so, but clothing stays on! Got it?” Luther commands. Five’s cheeks grow red with embarrassment. 

“No shit Sherlock,” Five says, rolling his eyes.

“Alright, let’s leave them alone, boys,” Allison says, pushing her brothers out of the room. 

“But I wanted to babysit!” Klaus exclaims, and you can’t help but let out a laugh. Allison is the last person out. She shuts the door behind her. 

“I’m so sorry about that,” Five says, sitting back down on the edge of the bed. 

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” You say, a smile spreading across your face. Five lays back down, and you follow suit, reverting back to how you and Five had been laying down before. You rest your head on Five’s chest, his heart still beating just as quickly as it had been before. 

“So before, you didn’t get to finish what you were saying,” You say to Five. Suddenly, his heart begins to beat faster. 

He takes a deep breath. “Well,” He pauses, “I like you too, (Y/N).” Five responds. You can’t see his face, but you know he’s smiling. “I like you a lot. In fact, I think I might like you more than anything else on this planet.” His heart is thumping wildly against his chest now. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, his fingers combing gently through your hair. 

“I like being here,” You whisper softly. 

“I like having you here,” Five responds. You can’t help but smile. You close your eyes yet again, falling asleep in Five’s arms.