#but it's just the reality that they aren't

[itsrlymine]

You Aren’t Creating Anything. You Are Remembering Everything.

(manifesting proof since some of yall still depend on the 3d) (boooo)

Re-read the title please. You aren't creating anything. You are remembering everything.

How can you create reality when reality is already created? Creation is finished boo. Don’t give yourself that much credit. Stop looking at manifestation as if it’s bringing something new into your life. It’s “bringing” you more of you. When you want to experience something, it’s because you already have and you are now remembering what that experience was like. 

Every time I want to manifest something, I start to question myself on how I got what I manifested.

“How did that trip to Dubai end up going? I know I had wine and food on the plane but what were the beaches like again??” The picture below was taken when I was on a yacht headed to the beach btw.

Deliberately change the way you speak on the inside and your outer world will shift to your desire. You didn’t create your dream car — I mean the car you now own— it was created before you thought about having it as yours. Does that mean it wasn’t gonna be yours anyways??? No. All your desires exist now because they exist now. There is nothing you can think about manifesting that isn’t already in existence. Take that pressure off yourself and realized that you are simply remembering what it’s like to have what is yours. Just like sitting down to remember what elementary school was like when somebody asks you, remember what it’s like and how you felt getting everything you once wanted. Your desires are in the past now and a part of your present. Let's be so fr please.

[itsrlymine]

Ignoring Reality Makes No Sense When You Are Reality

Pay attention to the 3d because what you say about it tells you where you are in consciousness. If you know the outer world is based on your inner world, you don’t need to ignore it. If anything you should laugh bc Mrs. 3D really thought she was doing something like girl bye. 

This notion that you need to "ignore reality" in order to get what you want is wack asf and it pisses me off honestly. Why would you ignore reality when you are reality itself? When somebody calls you by your favorite nickname, are you gonna ignore them because you like that name or will you answer since it’s your name???? 

The 3d is a reflection of old and present thoughts and your state of awareness. How you respond internally is what determines what is happening externally. Change the meaning to what you “see” with your physical eyes and see with your mind’s eye that which you are now choosing to experience. Are you gonna ignore your sp, new money, house or car now bc they are in your 3d???

Your reality/3d only becomes real when you are getting what you want? Are you serious? Who told you that? You need to stop listening to that person. The 3d is you. So if reality isn't real, that means you aren't either boo. How can you be reading this post right now if the 3d isn't real?? Are you dreaming right now or something? Don't take people's advice just because they might be popular or get a lot of attention. Listen to what they say and actually see if it makes sense. Most of the times it doesn't. If you want to ignore reality, go ahead and ignore yourself for a week and see how that goes.

There were times people would tell me I couldn’t have something or do something because it’s too expensive or whatever and every time I’d respond back in my mind like “no wtf. It’s cheap asf actually.” I used this to lower my rent (somebody pays it for me now) and medications costs and ofc flights. Literally anything I want because I have come to understand that it’s just me. 

Similarly, it’s just you in your reality. The 3d is you and you shouldn’t fear it. Let it remind you of who you now are— the creator that has everything they want. Giving her power and trying to act like she isn’t there makes zero sense. Now that you have all your desires, are you gonna act like they are not real because you can “see” them in the 3d? No. That would be stupid and nonsensical.

[allhailthemightyquattro]

While we're on the topic of good acting in Bridgerton, I want to make a shout out to both Luke and Nicola for one of my favourite scenes:

The dream sequence is so well done! Not just the acting, but set design and directing.

But let's focus on the acting. Because this is a very different scene for Luke and Nicola; they are not playing Colin and Penelope here. They are playing a fictionalised version of those characters (fictionalised within the narrative) that Colin has dreamed up. In his dream, he is the dashing hero of a romance novel and Pen is his beautiful heroine. And considering that the whole show is taken from a romance novel like the one Colin is dreaming of, it just goes to show how good Luke and Nicola's acting is that we can tell the difference.

The dialogue is a lot more formal, their voices and accents a bit posher. It isn't until Penelope is whispering Colin's name that she sounds like herself. These characters both are and aren't Colin and Penelope, and it takes some great acting chops to show that.

And when you compare it to the carriage scene, you can see the difference. The carriage scene is a lot more awkward and far less dashing. But it's real.

Colin starts off unsure, but from the moment he kneels down on the floor, he knows what he wants to say - he's replayed this speech in his dreams a dozen times - but now he's got to figure out how to say it. There are moments of doubt and moments where he gets into his stride, and it's just a brilliant mix of different and similar to the dream scene.

And Pen, of course, is very different. In Colin's dream, she instantly admits she feels the same, but in the carriage, she is much more human. She's confused and surprised and needs a minute, so she starts by pointing out that they are friends.

You can see the heartbroken acceptance in Colin's eyes as he backs down. This is not how his dreams ended, and now he's back to reality. But then Pen catches up, and admits the truth of her feelings, and suddenly the dream is back on.

Okay, so this post ended up being about two of my favourite scenes, but the comparison between them is just amazing.

[samiholloway]

That's actually interesting world building bc

Gaining weight would make you better at magic

So people who can afford to eat more would tend to be more likely to be good at magic

But also titties aren't 100% related to how skinny or not you are, so there'd be some half starved poor people who are just stacked, or people who are fed but on poor diets and so stacked, coming out of nowhere Pissed Off that magic is monopolized by the rich, who are worried that in reality magic is shifting toward the poor as diets change...

And also whenever the upper classes have a Skinny Chic trend, a lot (but not all) of them would weaken magically, leaving an opening for said stacked and pissed off people... And the ones who don't weaken would be overworked carrying all the slack...

Also probably there'd be trends when people try to look more powerful then they are by padding, regardless of magical abilities

OR maybe magic makes it so that classes are impossible bc regardless of money, it's the titties that determine magical abilities... HMM

I’m far less interested in fiction where it’s like “This power/ability/prophecy is gender specific but trans inclusive” and for more interested in fiction that just… doesn’t do that

[senmiyaazx]

WAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH I HAD JUST PLAYED THE NEW UPDATE AND THE BAD ENDING KILLED ME. I WANT TO PUNCH A HOLE THROUGH MY COMPUTER BUT I CAN'T BECAUSE IT'S TOO EXPENSIVE 😭 I'LL NEVER LOOK AT AXES AND CROWE THE SAME EVER AGAIN

sorry for being overdramatic that ending really hurt me and i love crowe 😢

can you write crowe and reader's date after they got together in day 1? let's say Sol didn't find out when crowe and reader kissed so crowe gets to live (not for long tho)

i just wanted a peaceful love life with Jericho Ichabod 😭

CROWE X GN READER

spoilers for the update (bad ending)

a/n: an au where mc remembers all the saves they've done and knowing that they'll never be able to reciprocate crowe's feelings without putting him in danger would make pretty good angst ngl.

cw: slight angst (I'm sorry I couldn't help it). overall very fluffy. i think. reader is lowkey a simp.

bonus fanart at the end!

---------

He's so pretty it hurts. Pretty like the way his braided hair fell gracefully on his shoulders. Pretty like the ethereal glow that kissed his tan skin in the afternoon sun. Pretty, like his sapphire irises that gazed at you with such fondness that it made your heart ache.

Fuck. He's so beautiful and you're sure he's aware of it.

"(Name)? Are you okay?" He asks as if you'll ever be okay when he looks at you like that.

After that night— that one special night that might as well be one of your core memories. It was your first kiss. With Crowe. The guy you thought would never reciprocate your feelings. The man who liked you longer than you did.

Crowe.

And now, it's just you two in your comfort spot. The school garden. After that night he invited you here. For what? A date? Gee, is he trying to kill you or something?

It was already difficult enough to face him after.. well, the kiss. Now he decided to invite you to somewhere private. Just the two of you. Crowe and I.

It's weird thinking like that. It feels weird to put your name beside Crowe, even if you've discreetly written your name next to him with a heart multiple times on your notebook.

And yet you still called yourself a mere 'admirer'. How naive could you get?

Ah, well, it doesn't matter now. You sat next to him on the ground with your heart threatening to burst out of your chest, and you're stiffer than a damn wall.

Don't look at me like that. You think. Don't you dare give me that look. That concerned, caring face he always gave you when you're feeling incredibly warm and your heart is seconds away from going into cardiac arrest. Can you stop being so handsome?

"(Name)," Crowe repeats, bringing you back to reality. "Are you okay?"

You take a deep breath. Maybe you're being too dramatic, acting like a teenage girl with her first crush. Or maybe Crowe just has that effect on you. Can you really blame yourself? He's like a prince for fuck's sake. "Yeah. Don't worry."

His brows furrowed, unconvinced. "Loosen up a little, won't you? You act like we're strangers." His tone takes on a more playful one, hoping to lighten the mood. "We've known each other for a year.. yet you're still so nervous around me." He grinned. His hand reaches out to brush a stray hair away from your face, the warmth from his touch lingering. What a tease.

"Not my fault you're so handsome.." You crossed your arms with a huff. "Seriously. If being pretty was illegal you'd be a criminal." You weren't even aware of what you're saying at this point. You've gotten so comfortable with Crowe that you simply didn't care what you say in front of him.

He blinks, staring at you as you continued to mumble under your breath. Cute. He thinks. You're way too cute sometimes.

He leaned in closer, a teasing grin on his face. "You think I'm that pretty?"

You stop mumbling, turning to face him only to be jumpscared because of how close he was. "What the- Of course I do!" You lean away from him, cheeks warm. "And I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who thinks that way. Aren't you aware of the letters you received on Valentine's day?"

He smiled at this, backing away to give you space. "Of course I was." He paused, studying your figure with a warm gaze. "But you know I only had eyes for you on that day."

Your chest tingled, remembering the chocolate you gifted to him. You didn't expect he'd have a gift of his own for you too. Back then, you always thought he'd forget about you one day.

He never did.

"Corny." Yet you couldn't help the smile that crept to your lips, contrasting your words. He let out a chuckle at that to which you responded with a light punch to his shoulder.

A long silence settled comfortably between you two for a while. Simply basking in each other's presence, taking in the peaceful scenery with him. Despite the silence, it was enough for you. Being with him was enough.

And you couldn't help but voice it out loud. "I'm so glad to be with you."

He's caught off guard by that, but quickly regains his composure as he intertwined your fingers together with the softest smile you've ever seen.

"Me too."

Heavens, you love him. So damn much.

So please let this moment last forever.

---------

bonus cuz i love Crowe so much

not the best art I've done but i really wanted to do this to give myself motivation to write:) and also i wanted an excuse to draw him even though i already have a w.i.p of him lol

[icallhimjoey]

Almost, Always

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating

Author’s note: it's monday! and fake joe's here for you! he's... not exactly the best, for which i apologise, but, he's all for you, so please, enjoy him fictionally and respect him privately (too much to ask? i hope not?) ok great talk everyone, love you <33 xo

Wordcount: 6.3K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Four days of silence.

Four days of not looking each other in the eye. Of no physical touch. Of not saying a single fucking word.

You moved around each other in a shared space until you had the thought that you were probably better off avoiding each other completely for a little while.

Joe was convinced he had every right to wait for an apology before he’d speak to you again. You, however, obviously heavily disagreed.

You had just been honest.

Joe had asked for you to be honest and so, you had been, but apparently, you’d done it wrong.

It started with an evening of not speaking after an outburst. A silent night routine where you completely avoided one another. Acted like the other person wasn’t even there. You’d thought then that you’d speak in the morning. That you’d talk things out after getting some sleep, because maybe that was the problem.

You slept with your backs facing each other and dreamed of better moods in the morning.

But then the next morning, Joe had gotten up and only made one coffee.

One singular cup of coffee.

He drank it at the kitchen table, looked at you all bitterly like a disappointed parent would look at their child who was ruining their potential, and then left the empty cup there for you to grow even more annoyed at. More than you already were.

That one evening of silence had slowly turned into four days.

You bit your tongue, though. Kept quiet, because Joe did too. Stored the annoyance away. Swept it under the rug, and even though this metaphoric rug was starting to look really lumpy, you pretended you could walk over it fine still.

You then also ignored that this is precisely what the fight had been about. About you shutting up about all the little things that annoyed you. All the small things that didn’t feel worth the effort to say anything about in the moment, because you didn’t want to be a nag.

Things built with you.

Being bothersome was your worst nightmare, so you wouldn’t say anything for ages until then suddenly, on a random afternoon, a teeny tiny drop made the bucket overflow and you’d fall apart at something so stupidly insignificant which would take everyone by surprise.

Would take Joe by surprise.

And it made sense that Joe’s first reaction to your fire would be to light his own. You’d snap and shout, so Joe’d snap and shout right back.

“Babe, you never fucking communicate! It’s always– I’m always guessing with you! Just tell me when something upsets you!”

“I am!”

“Yea now you are! But you’re telling me about shit I said three months ago! What do you want me to change about something I did three months ago?!”

“I don’t want you to change anything– my God! You asked me what’s wrong, so I’m telling you what’s wrong!”

It was always the same fight. And usually, you’d end up saying something so stupid to your own ears it would break the tension and make you laugh. It’d be easy to apologise in those moments, because you knew this was on you, and the warmth coming off of Joe as he’d turn soft at your laughter would always sort of fix things.

“Stop being so silly,” he’d say as he’d hug you. As he’d kiss you on the cheek until your embarrassed grimace, aimed fully at yourself, disappeared.

“Got some moaning left in there?” he’d ask, tapping the side of your head with a finger, making you giggle despite yourself. “Want to go shout into the air from the balcony? Since you’re here now, this is the time to get all of it out.”

That was how it usually went.

And he was right; you could definitely communicate better. Express feelings in the moment rather than hold on to all the negative shit for ages.

Easier said than done, but at least you were aware that you had to stop saving things for another day.  

This time the fight had been different though. There was no eventual humour slipping through any cracks. No secret smiles hidden from each other until you stopped being able to conceal them. No apologies. Zero kind words. Just… anger. And silence.

Joe was waiting for you to break first. For your wrath to turn into something a little softer that he could mould into something more to his liking.

And you were waiting because Joe was waiting. Simple as that.

It didn’t feel fair that every time you’d share negative feelings, Joe would end up calling you silly.

It didn’t feel fair that Joe never apologised for anything.

It didn’t feel fair that, just because you were quiet for a moment as you collected your thoughts, Joe spat, “Silent treatment? All right.” at you.

Four days.

Four days of Joe making a morning coffee just for himself, actively choosing to ignore, and therefore, hurt you.

Four days of his lone empty coffee cup left on the table, which you then didn’t clean, because why the fuck would you, but the sight of it was eating you alive.

You spent four days witnessing petty, childish behaviour from the man who you started believing you needed some space from. A little breathing room. Just until he’d miss you enough to reach out and say sorry, you know?

You wondered if he was thinking the same.

If the silence was also letting his mind wander into those same dark corners yours was exploring.

But then, Joe broke it.

A glass of wine on that fourth night broke it.

It wasn’t exactly an apology, but… it felt like one. You decided it was an apology.

You were sitting on the sofa, tapping away on your phone, talking to Emily about your stupid boyfriend, and she was a good friend, made fun of him effortlessly which really did a good job of making you feel better.

Then, Joe placed a glass of wine down on the coffee table in front of you.

It didn’t fully register at first.

You saw the glass, but assumed it was Joe’s wine that he poured for just himself, and if you were going to want some, you’d have to go and fetch you own.

Mid-typing out a message to Emily about it, you felt Joe sit down next to you, and when you chanced a quick glance, you saw that he was holding a glass of wine himself as he got comfortable and turned on the TV.

Slowly, your phone lowered into your lap, and you stared at that glass of red wine on the table for a moment.

Without warning, your eyes welled up.

He poured that for you.

In the effort to not let Joe notice how this gesture hit you right in the gut, you held your breath until you were shaking, and then a heaving sob burst out of you.

Shit.

You shattered.

Split right down the middle, and burst into pieces with such vigour, you surprised yourself, but surprised Joe more.

He had expected you to pick up the glass and empty it in the sink, or whatever.

Four days was much longer than he thought you’d let this go on for.

His girlfriend was stubborn – he knew that. But four days? Four days was a really fucking long time. And, apparently, four days was long enough for a simple glass of red supermarket wine to make you cry.

The astonishment rendered Joe useless for a moment.

He just looked at you for a moment as you sat with your phone in your lap, head dropped down, and your face covered by both your hands.

This was really fucking embarrassing.

Your legs felt the want to escape the situation before your mind got the chance to catch up. You were up on your feet and wanted to bolt it to the bedroom when you heard Joe put his glass of wine down.

You hadn’t even taken two steps before you got taken hold of by an arm. Pulled into a chest. Held firmly into place.

Going from four days of moving around each other like you didn’t exist to one another, to the very sudden tightest hug you’d received in ages was a lot.

And then Joe placed a hand on the back of your neck and squeezed you gently, making you fucking bawl.

No one apologised.

No one said a word, actually.

But you took whatever that glass of wine was as enough of an olive branch to let yourself be hugged.

Be shushed quietly.

Be gently kissed and softly touched.  

It shouldn’t have counted as an apology, but you’d taken it as one, and Joe had conveniently let you.

Saturday night.

You’re out.

Alone.

You know Emily would have come if you had asked her to, but you hadn’t, because she would’ve likely asked a bunch of questions you didn’t want to answer.

“Where are we going?” “That’s not where we usually go...” “Why are we going there?”

Couldn’t tell her. She’d try her best to talk sense into you. Would try to convince you that this behaviour wasn’t serving anyone in the long term.

And she’d be right.

But you currently don’t really care about the long term.

Short term is where it’s at.

Where all the fun and the excitement lives.

So you’re out. Having drinks at a bar by yourself, and you do your very best fending off any trickle of doubt at your life choices until you see him walk in.

Jackpot.

You fucking knew it.

You pretend you haven’t seen him at all, of course. Continue your chat with the girl behind the bar, until suddenly–

“You know you’ve got the worst timing?”

Joe sneaks up on you.

His voice is low in your ear, and you do your very best to sound as surprised as you possibly can when you gasp a small breath, all innocent. You turn your head to see him over your shoulder, both his hands on your sides as he looks down at you.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You say it like you truly didn’t expect to run into him.

Oscar worthy.

Well. It would have been, had you not both been very aware that you’re exactly where you are for this exact reason. Wearing what you are wearing, drinking what you are drinking. It’s more than a lucky guess that he’d be here tonight.

Joe’s predictable like that.

Men in general are easy like that.

“I’m here with a whole group.” Joe’s making excuses he already knows aren’t going to stop either one of you.  

“Do I know them?”

“No.” Joe answers as he scans your face from the side. God, you look all… glossy.

“Good.” Would’ve been a bit awkward otherwise.

“You better hang around for a bit.” Joe gives you a face, sort of stern, and it’s so comfortable to frown at him. To act all offended. Like it’s not exactly what you want to hear.

“Excuse you, I’m–” you start all aghast, and want to add, I’m seeing someone, which is a lie, but you get cut off by a strong squeeze into your waist from both his hands.

“I’m not joking. Give me… maybe, like, an hour and I’ll come get you.”

You scrunch your nose at him and he gives a small nod, his grin spreading wide, before he turns around and finds the people he came in with.

You’re alone. Single, and having drinks in a bar by yourself, which has every opportunity to feel a little sad, but instead you feel giddy. You predicted you’d run into him, and then you did.

Perfect.

You’re a genius.

After last time, you kind of want Joe to think that you are seeing someone. Just to make you feel like you’ve got the upper hand. Not that it matters. You’ve both made the same wrong choice in similar situations before. But, still. You just don’t want him to win.

Joe joins his friends, and he throws a quick glance back to see you smile into your drink as you take a sip.

Yea. Glossy is the right word, he thinks. He could stare at you all evening.

Fuck.

A whack to his shoulder by one of his friends pulls him into a conversation and momentarily, he shifts into the evening he had planned to have.

He forgets about you for a minute, but never entirely.

It’s like there’s a constant little buzz in the back of his head, and he keeps wanting to look over. See what you’re doing. Who you’re talking to. Who’s talking to you.

Joe’s in trouble.

You do things to him that he can’t entirely comprehend, and that no one before or after you has ever really managed. He doesn’t know what to make of that most of the time, except that the feelings he’s got for you are sort of… big. And scary.

You’re still devastatingly gorgeous to him, he can objectively look at you and think, yea she’s fucking hot, but you also manage to make him laugh. Manage to him feel heard and cared for. Manage to make him forget about all current worries life has on offer for him.

And Joe is generally, just, doomed.

Whatever he had with you had worked for a while and then suddenly it hadn’t anymore. You’d suddenly wanted out, but now… it feels a little like you both want to start over. Like you both want to forget about that chapter of bullshit. Pretend it never happened.

And what’s the problem with that?

Is whatever you are doing now a problem? If it works?

If it doesn’t hurt people, Joe thinks there’s no issue.

But he knows it actually does hurt people. It’s another truth he ignores. Tries to, at least.

There’s no denying the gravitation pulling the two of you closer and closer together until eventually you end up a tangled mess. Like a pair of forgotten earphones left in a coat pocket, too annoying to untie, so instead someone will pull at both ends until the earpieces reach both ears, leaving the wire tangled up even tighter as it sits under their chin.

Even though Joe appreciates the poetic beauty he can find in all of that, he knows he’s got to fucking stop hurting people all the time.

He can’t help his feelings.

But he can help how he treats others.

If he is going to choose to let the general ache of a bad week be soothed by the balm of your presence, he can at least have the decency to not let others presume they’re dating him. Because generally, that’s always been his problem. Joe’s vague and avoidant and all about surface level fun – he never defines anything if he can help it, and he lets others think what they please.

It’s easier that way.

For him, at least.

It’s both a shame and a godsend that this is a part of him that you know through and through. That you see. He doesn’t have to try to hide it, because he knows that it’s of no use with you.

And apparently, it’s fine, because here you fucking are, aren’t you?

He remembers when he thought you were just the same, and remembers how he felt so lucky at first.

A perfect match.

He’d learnt over time, you’re actually very much not the same. But! You had at least some of the same tendencies, and you showing up in this particular bar tonight was enough proof of it.

Joe’s in his group of friends, and they’re all chatting and laughing, and this was meant to be a fun night out, but he might as well just leave right now. His mind is with the girl at the other end of the bar, sat on her own, smiling and chatting to whoever had the courage to strike up a conversation.

Yea.

He’s got more problems.

Forget not wanting to define anything with anyone.

Joe also has to stop banking his entire future on the idea that you want him too.

There’s… there’s a lot of things to ignore.

It should foreshadow that the path he’s going down isn’t good. Isn’t the right one. But... it’s so fun and exciting, he kind of has to know where it leads.

He sighs loudly, a frustrated grumble originating from sheer defeat, and he gives the glass he’s holding a glance. He’ll finish this, and then he’ll fetch you and leave.

About fifteen minutes later, he’s got you under his arm and is leading you outside. Asks, “Yours or mine?” because there’s no need to act coy with you.

You answer, “Yours.” a little too quickly for Joe not to raise an eyebrow at.

You’re walking together, and you’re still fixing your scarf, but your steps are too determined. Too rushed for your quick answer not to hide at least some secrets.

“What, you got anything to hide from me?”

“No–”

“Let’s go over to yours. It’s closer.” he challenges without the intent to actually do so, footsteps still carrying him in the direction of his own flat.

“No, I–”

“Or has Jasper left all of his things strewn about?” Joe couldn’t finish the question before having to twist his mouth in a bid to hide his smile.

You stop walking for just a second, and give him a dead pan stare that transitions into an eye-roll before you flatly say, “All right, good night.” and pretend to turn around to leave.

It makes Joe throw his head back in a laugh, both his arms grabbing at you and pulling you close.

“Mine, okay. Mine.”

And you fall back into step, smiling into your scarf at how you just made Joe’s laugh echo down the street.

Feels good to make Joe laugh.

It’s quiet for a bit, just a short few seconds. Just footsteps on the ground amongst the noises of the city. Somehow, it feels like it drags on, like every second lasts a whole minute, and you can’t help filling it with awkward chat. “No,” you start. “Jasper’s put all of his things where they’re supposed to go.” And you give Joe a pointed look after.

He bites immediately.

“Wha– I always put my things where they’re supposed to go!”

He doesn’t.

You know he doesn’t.

He knows you know he doesn’t.

It’s impossible to forget all of the little things that made the rug look all lumpy. You’d always keep things under there for ages, which gave you a lot of time to quietly lift up corners to examine all the mess.

So you snort, and he stutters through beginnings of words he never finishes to find excuses that don’t exist until you’re both laughing.

Then he says, “Here. I’ll put this thing where it’s meant to go.” And you think it’s just about the cheesiest innuendo ever, but then he takes your wrist in his hand and lets his fingers intertwine with yours.

You look up at him with a pursed smile, but Joe’s already looking right ahead, making sure you don’t bump into anything.

You’re lucky it’s cold enough to blame the flush of your cheeks on the cold wind.

You hold hands all the way to Joe’s flat.

It’s nice.

You also talk about Jasper all the way to Joe’s flat.

That’s less nice.

Joe asks what else Jasper does that he allegedly doesn’t. If he lets you keep your heating on. If he lets you sleep closest to the door. Every question comes out with disdain, like this loser doesn’t know what he’s fucking doing.

And you answer every question with lies. Paint a very pretty picture.

Jasper doesn’t even fucking exist, but you like that Joe thinks you’re taken. That you’re off the market, and that he shouldn’t be taking you home, but still chooses to. You think maybe he wouldn’t have held your hand if he thought you weren’t already spoken for.

However, it doesn’t feel so nice to remember all the things that ruined your relationship with Joe. He just keeps listing a bunch of shit you’d once yelled at him for, and you don’t think he fully understands how it’s bringing the mood down.

Presumably, you’re meant to think it’s funny, so you smile, but all of it sits wrong in your gut. It leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth that uncomfortably sticks to your tongue and sours your mood a little.

The short-term fun with Joe is meant to be just that. Fun. You don’t want to be reminded of all the reasons why you shouldn’t be going home with him right now. If you did, you’d have taken Emily with you tonight.

You refrain from saying anything, though.

You’re still you, after all.

You just smile and tell Joe that Jasper actually does do all the things that Joe never did, and hope it sparks enough jealousy in him to maybe do something about it.

“Hmm,” Joe says when you turn the corner and his building comes into view. “Jasper sounds... he sounds kind of perfect, doesn’t he?”

He does.

You’ve created the image of a perfect boyfriend. One who you know you’d never actually gel with; you need someone who pushes back a little.

Problem is... Joe knows that too.

Just when the thought crosses your mind that maybe Joe knows you’re making everything up, that you’ve been lying this whole time you’ve been holding hands, Joe confirms your fears.

“Almost too um... almost too good to be true, wouldn’t you say?” he narrows his eyes in suspicion, a smile still playing on his lips.

“Yea, well. Some people are.” you shrug, but know Joe is reading your unsteady body language just fine.

“Sure, sure. Yea. I guess so.” Joe says, and then falls silent.

He knows you’re lying.

Well, fuck.

And then, he lets the silence linger.

Joe doesn’t say anything as he fishes his keys from a pocket and lets you into his building. Doesn’t say anything as he pushes the lift button. Just gives you a little smile, like he’s trying to hold in a chuckle, thinking secret thoughts.

It gets in your hair.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s... no, it’s nothing.”

Joe lets his small smile turn into a fat smirk and it’s starting to get on your nerves. The lift doors open, and you assertively step inside before Joe can give you a small ladies-first gesture.

Joe watches you press the button to his floor before he shakes his head a little and follows you in.

“What?” you ask again, and to that, Joe finally lets a barking laugh out.

“What?” he mimics, feeding off of the brooding bit of bite he can sense growing underneath your skin.

“If you’re trying to piss me off, it’s fucking working.”

“I’m not trying to do anything.” Joe patronises, joy very much still visible in the lines on his cheeks.

He knows you’re single.

He knows there’s no Jasper.

“Hmm.” It’s your turn to narrow eyes at him. “Yea, no. Of course not. You don’t have to try to piss me off, you’re right. You’ve got the skills to auto-pilot your way–”

In a lightning-speed quick move, Joe shuts you up by suddenly getting close enough for you to stumble back against the mirrored panel or the lift. He’s got two hands touching your sides over your coat, firm enough for you to feel them through the thick layers of fabric.

It startles you into silence, and makes you audibly swallow.

You can see from up close how Joe smugly pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, eyes roving over you slowly, and, fuck.

Yea.

Yea. Okay.

It shifts.

All of it is shifting.

The annoyance and slight anger transfers into something else.

Into something a little more raunchy.

You feel a sudden rush down your body from the way Joe’s eyes blaze with intention.

Joe knows you. Bit rash of you to forget.

Just before the lift stills and the doors open behind him, Joe lets his body sway forward a bit to press himself up against you entirely. It makes your breath hitch and stutter. Makes you want to grab hold of the large collar of his coat to pull him down enough so you can kiss him.

But then, in a blink of an eye, he’s gone. Pushes himself off, quickly moves away, walks out of the lift, and leaves you there to catch your breath for a second.

Fucking hell.

Oh, tonight is going to be interesting.

You don’t leave the lift until the doors start closing and you have to quickly launch yourself across to get an arm in front of the sensor. Down the hall you see him disappear into his flat, leaving his door open, and you take rushing steps to follow him inside.

You don’t want to waste any more time.

You want to undress right there on his doormat, despite the bitterly cold temperature you’ve just stepped into.

You want find Joe, who you can hear is already opening and closing cupboards in his kitchen, and just... you don’t know. Jump him, you guess.

That lift moment has made you want to devour him. Made you want to be devoured by him.

But then you close his door and step into his kitchen, and find him at the counter. He’s got his back turned, and is super calmly pouring two glasses of wine.

No urgency.

Zero haste.

He knows what he’s just done to you. Knows the effect that likely must have had. He’s toying with you. Fucking playing.

You drop your coat where you’re standing, right onto the floor. Toe your shoes off to make a pile. You cross your arms and grab hold of the bottom of your top, ready to pull that over your head next, but you pause to watch Joe’s shoulders move under his shirt as he carefully twists and pushes the cork back onto the bottle to seal it.

When he turns around, he leans against the counter, one hand on the edge of it, and in the other he’s holding a nice fat glass of red.

Glass.

One glass.

For a moment you just assume that there’s another hiding behind his back, though it doesn’t even fully register.

You make eye-contact as he takes a slow sip of his drink, and then you slowly pull your top off. It reveals a lacy bra you’re convinced Joe likes the look of.

And you’re right.

Joe halts, and openly stares. Mouth in his wine. Hypnotised. Frozen on the spot. Mind slowly turning to mush.

He’s predictable like that.

Men in general are easy like that.

You take a deep breath, inflating your whole chest, and Joe groans at the sight. The glass of wine gets put back down behind him, and you don’t even think he has taken real sip. Then he takes a few steps to pull a chair from his table.

He holds a hand up that means, one second, and pulls at the fabric of his trousers to give himself a bit more space before he sits down. He shifts a little, settles in, and then leans back with his legs spread wide, both hands behind his head, fingers folded and elbows sticking out.

He takes a deep breath before he gives a small nod that says, carry on.

You bite your teeth into your bottom lip as you smile, because Joe is an idiot, and you let your hands find the button to your trousers to take off next.

Then, suddenly, it lands.

There’s one single glass of wine on the counter.

One.

You stop your movements as you look at it and watch the red liquid inside softly swirl from when Joe put it down.

It takes a second for Joe to follow your gaze, and for him to understand what you’re looking at.

He frowns in confusion a little, looks back at you to see that you’re still staring, and then looks back again, and–

“Oh...”

Your expression has gone cold.

And Joe thinks that maybe he gets it. He isn’t entirely sure, but he’s smart enough to know that the show he had just settled in for is probably going to get cancelled if he doesn’t do anything.

“Did you...”

But he’s not sure what to say. Doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. When you start moving, he thinks maybe he doesn’t have to.

It’s crazy how this feels like it used to feel, before.

But, it’s a little different now, because… there’s nothing at stake. There’s no you to protect. No you two as a couple to preserve.

That stupid single glass of red wine.

You fucking hate it.

And you know it’s sick, you know that you’re not meant to enjoy this, but the feeling of rage bubbling up within you honestly feels kind of good. It’s been a while since you’ve gotten to experience full-body resentment, and have the immediate source of it right there to take it out on.

You want to feel this dark, sticky displeasure.

Feels fucking good.

Joe’s been reminding you of what a shit boyfriend he was to you, which was meant to be ha-ha funny. Joe thought enough time had passed. You had gone from no-contact to two people that bickered for a bit, and then would end up in bed together. It had happened twice already, and you had all the right ingredients to keep this going. The recipe had proven itself delicious, and Joe thought he could just... serve the same meal again.

It’s self-destructive, you know it is, but… you are hungry for it too.

You take a few slow steps and walk over to look at this glass of wine more closely. Joe watches you from his seat, entirely unsure of what to do, and then, without warning, you slowly push the whole thing into the sink.

Red splashes everywhere, and the glass clatters loudly, but it doesn’t break.

Next, you take the bottle into your hands. Look at the label for a moment. Pretend to read it. It’s still pretty full.

Too bad, you think. Such a waste.

You remove the cork, turn around to look Joe directly in the eye, and then tip that over as well. The whole sink colours blood read as you drain the whole thing, and all Joe can do is watch on from his seat.

He doesn’t stop you.

Doesn’t say anything.

Just watches you and feels the energy of the room build.

He’d forgotten how things always build with you.

You’re quite the sight, face reading thunder, standing in his kitchen in your bra, breath deepening with every second that passes.

Joe hates what it does to him inside of his trousers.

When the bottle empties, wine clattering in the sink, Joe sees your face change. Something more… calm seemingly overcomes you. You look... pleased.

“Does that feel justified?” Joe asks, eyes blinking at you.

“Fuck you. Yes it does.”

“Do you have any idea how expensive that was?”

You don’t give a shit how expensive that was, but just because you know Joe does, you want to know.

“Tell me.”

Joe scans your body all the way down and then all the way back up.

“Come here.” Joe holds an arm out and reaches for you.

“Shut up. Tell me.” You’re already making your way over.

“That’s a class A premier grand cru...”

You take Joe’s hand and let him pull you to sit on his lap. To straddle him, thighs spread wide, one leg over each one of his.

“That was a class A premier grand cru.” the words mean nothing to you, you know fuck all about wine, but there’s something glorious about correcting Joe.

“Hmm.” Joe hums as his nose nudges yours, and he lets both hands slide up your thighs until he finds the bits he likes holding most. He uses his grip to pull you in closer and continues, “A blend of merlot, and cabernet franc...” Joe’s French accent is awful. “An award-winning Château Angélus from... from 2016, I think...”

That’s fairly recent, you think. Can’t be that expens–

“Cost me over 500 quid.”

Your eyes darken.

Good.

You wouldn’t pay much more than a tenner for a bottle of the same size.

“Should’ve poured me a glass.”

And it’s only then that the penny drops. That he gets it. You can see it in his eyes. The flush of memories suddenly making it to the forefront of his brain.

The silent treatment.

The coffees he didn’t make you.

The wine he eventually did pour for you.

That one glass of red that temporarily had fixed everything.

Shit.

Joe grimaces. Groans. Squeezes his eyes shut. Feels like an idiot.

“Should’ve poured you a–”

You kiss Joe.

Hard.

Breathe him in, and move in enough for it to almost make the chair tip backwards. You’ve got both your arms around his neck, hips moving over Joe’s lap in a desperate grind, all needy and in search of feeling something.

Fire.

You want to feel the fire.

Momentarily, you think it’s working. That something is catching aflame. You can feel how Joe spreads his legs even wider, bucking his hips upward as he presses himself into you.

Joe is straining in his trousers, and he groans as you figure out the right rhythm to make it feel good with every hip roll, with every back and forth.

You break the kiss to let a moan escape you, head dropping back, and Joe’s mouth finds the skin of your neck to taste. His teeth graze before he kisses as you fiercely move against each other. Louder noises escape you when Joe lets a hand curl around and grab you by the back of your neck.

“Yea? That feel nice?” he pants, and all you can do is bob your head in a barely there nod as you keep moving.

It does feel nice.

Feels really nice.

Not exactly fire, though. You’re both in trousers, fabric rubbing together furiously, dry humping each other like a pair of horny teenagers who haven’t passed third base yet.

So, not fire, but nice none the less.

In contrast, there’s a lot of things Joe’s feeling, and he kind of wants you to know about all of them. Needs to speak them into the air in order to fully process what’s happening inside of his brain.

“Did you know I um… I broke everything off, the next day?” Joe starts, and stops to curse under his breath. “Fuck. Yea, keep going. Shit. Ah... A-after you left, I mean, remember? I had a lot of m-missed calls, so I called her back, and I–”

You shut Joe up with a kiss.

Try to at least.

“We could–” Joe starts again after turning his head and pushing you aside with his nose, both hands spread wide over your thighs as he helps you move over his lap. “Remember, how we really were something?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Try to focus on the feelings inside of your body instead of on the words you don’t want to hear.

“We could be something still.”

“N-no.”

You refuse to acknowledge what Joe’s trying to tell you, but don’t stop your movements. You can’t stop, head dropping back. This all feels too good.

It’s still not fire, though.

There’s no stakes.

You’re both single, and every decision you have made this evening turns out to have been inconsequential.

It’s... it’s almost boring.

But it’s good enough.

You just need a couple more seconds, you can feel it building already.

“We c-couldn’t be somethinhgh...” you choke on your words, unable to finish the sentence.

“Yes,” Joe insists, voice low and breathy, your bodies still moving in tandem. He then uses one hand takes hold of your face by your cheeks, tilting your head down so he can make eye-contact with you for a second.

“Yes we could.” He sounds hopeful as his eyes search yours. “Don’t you get it?”

But your eyes are glassy. They flutter and want to roll back.

Joe knows this look.

Know what this means.

And it’s not like Joe thinks his kind words will really fix anything, but, maybe they will, you know? Maybe. He’s glad he has said them anyway, even though you look like you haven’t even properly heard him.

“You close, baby?”

He switches gears.

“Yea? Come on.” He helps you move with strong arms that press you down a little more, and your arms scramble behind his back in your want to hold onto him tightly.

“There you go.” he coos into your ear, and, it’s not fire, but you come anyway.

Joe should have poured you a glass of wine.

Shouldn’t have brought up bad memories, shouldn’t have tried to be funny about it, and absolutely should have simply gone and poured you a glass.

You pretend that a glass of wine would’ve made a difference tonight.

The difference that you had hoped to find.

That would’ve lit the fire.

Deep down you know that’s not it, but still. The empty bottle is right there, watching you come down from your high, Joe still hard beneath you, and it’s easy to use that as the excuse.

You decide on the spot that Joe’s going to have to deal with what resides inside of his underwear by himself.

You’re done.

Sitting up, you look him in the eye for a short moment and softly but definitively say, “Should’ve poured me a glass.” and press a small kiss to his cheek which Joe gladly accepts.

Because he knows you’re right.

“Should’ve poured you a glass.”

---

The Taglisted

@alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @cowboymcflurry

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@emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee, @ferfan14, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby

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@tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @witchwolflea, @xxladymjxx, @yunirgo

add yourself

[janahanooo]

So, many of you liked my silly headcanons for the ramshackle gang, so have some more. And yes I do like to pretend that, these are all cannon. :) I swear I'm mentally ok

The Ramshackle gang is scary, quite literally. For starters, Rollo is a pyromaniac who is not afraid to burn down the whole world if it's about that. Fellow is a cunning, manipulative man who is already an adult, compared to everyone (except maybe Leona cus y'know, they are both over 20). Skully is literally from the past. He is if not, considered as a ghost by the students of the campus. Gidel, Gidel my boy is just cute.

Everyone thinks it's Rollo who takes care of everyone, because he's the mature one, while in reality... he is the most insane one in the group...

When in reality, it's still Yuu. The prefect, who already has enough on their plate. One can only pity them.

On the other side tho. Upset the Prefect of the Ramshackle dorm and you are gone for good. Not only you have a cat with a bad temper chasing you down the hall, no no. The whole Ramshakle gang is after you, and they dont care if you are a student or the headmaster.

Speaking of the headmaster, Crowley doesn't have any options other than smiling and letting them get away with things. Since, 1 he does not want to end up as the dinner, 2 now he can't say that the Ramshackle dorm does't have dorm members.

Yuu and Fellow take up on questionable part-time jobs around the campus all the time. One day they are helping out Sam in the Mystery Shop, the other day cleaning the courtyard and on another day running errands for the headmaster.

Skully just loves to scare the shit out of everyone. So does everyone tbh... but mainly Skully

Skully and the ghosts are inseparable. One might call them besties.

Gidel is the new face of the dorm. Well, him too, Grim is very irritated that he's not the only one now.

Also about Gidel, I do believe he has heavy sencory issues and dosnt like touching things with his bare hand. That is one of the many reasons why he wears oversized things.

Most of them (meaning everyone except Rollo) stays in the dorm in holliday season. Although, after some time and some treathening persuaiding, Rollo does eventually invite the gang to his home so they can stay there.

Huh... technically it's not a headcannon, but it is in a way... so, when Yuu goes home finally after who know long, the group collectively agreed to look after Grim and that they would still get together and never forget Yuu.

Another honorary mention(s): Ace and Deuce. They are considered dorm member even if they aren't. The sheer amount of time they spend there, makes them a true member (much to some peoples *cough* Rollo and Fellow *cough* saddness).

[edisacornball]

I hate to say this, because it's a really soul-crushing answer, but there isn't going to be a clear enemy, especially if people are trying to claim that all of a demographic is the enemy. This is an all or none fallacy. If an organization or person is trying to convince you that all the people of one demographic are your enemy, it's a way of creating alienation, isolation, and dehumanization. This is how soliders justify that it's okay to kill "the enemy" in a war.

The enemy isn't an entire demographic. Think of the other times in your life when you've been convinced that an entire demographic thinks or feels or believes in one way. Were there any times you were forced to confront that that wasn't actually the case? Okay, now also think about a time you met a stranger who immediately formed opinions about you just based on traits about you that you have no control over. How did that feel? Were they right and that's actually who you are? Or was it just easier for them to dismiss you that way?

It's hard. It's really, really, really hard. Part of the whole way our brains work is that we're trained to look for patterns and shortcut work whenever we can. Sometimes that means making quick, easy assumptions. But sometimes, we have to take the time, effort, and work to recognize that sometimes we built our pattern recognition from really faulty sources. Like Hollywood. Or a racist upbringing. Sometimes, we grow up not knowing that the ideas around us can really hurt the people around us, and it's really hard to recognize how deeply that can work into our own psyche.

The hard pill to swallow is that other humans are not your enemy. Stop going for the easy answer. It's easy to hate a gender, a race, a religion and say anyone associated with it is the "enemy." Don't be so naive as to believe that the enemy is a tangible being, a supervillain wrapped in an easy package to defeat. The difference between stories and life isn't "reality," it's complexity. Stories are based in truth, absolutely, but a shrunk down and simplified truth, able to fit an entire lifetime inside, what, less than 500 pages? Life is so much more complicated, and that's what people are trying to mean when they say "stories aren't real."

The "enemy" isn't a race, a religion, a nation, an age, or even a gender. It's so much more intangible and insidious than that. Because it's just... belief. Belief that some are better than others. Belief that anyone is deserving of pain. Belief that some people should be prevented from building happy, stable lives. Belief that exists a concept such as a person not doing "enough" with their life. And the hardest part of accepting that as the enemy... is accepting that you're going to see it in yourself a lot. And it's probably actively hurting you.

TL;DR: The enemy is hate.

garden variety conservative transphobia is going to get worse but radical feminism is also going to get worse. if youre a cis women terfs are going to try to recruit you and make you believe that the reason your rights are at stake is because of trans people. they're going to tell you that all men are your violent oppressors and they're going to include trans women in that category. they're gonna tell you about women who are gender traitors and joined the enemy and they're going to point to trans men. don't believe them. trans people are not your enemy, we have no power over you, and we desperately need your support and your solidarity.

be aware of radfem pipelines and dog whistles too. be skeptical of anyone that talks about the divine feminine or correlates birthing, menstruating, or female reproductive organs with womanhood. be especially skeptical of people who use those biological things as reasons to why women are more spiritual, or more in tune with nature, or just that they're better than men (read: anyone they decide is a man)

radical feminism is an expected reactionary outcome from cis women who are being oppressed by conservatives, especially when all they practice is ciscentric, liberal, white feminism. they feel the need to be radicalized but don't have the experience and information to pinpoint the true source of their suffering. trans people are not your enemy, AMAB people are not your enemy, anyone who identifies as a man is not your enemy. we're all being crushed under the same stone

[marvelfanfics1]

Little Maybank

requested by anon

Pairing: brother!jj maybank x sister!reader

Warnings: suggestive comments/actions, brief mention of fighting, cursing, reader is a few years younger than JJ, protective!jj

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You and JJ walk side by side towards the entrance of the Pelican Yacht Club, the rest of the pogues waiting by the Twinkie for you both to get some valuable information that one of the waiters there has for a current little mission they're all on right now.

JJ has is hands stuffed into his pockets while you swing your arms back and forth, looking at all the luxurious yachts lined up by the docks.

"You think we'll have a yacht one day, Jay?" You ask sweetly.

"Sure, a big ass one for all of us." He answers with a smile, ruffling your hair a little to which you whine, batting his hand away and trying to fix it again while he chuckles.

JJ can't believe that even with how your guys life situation is he still manages to keep you far away from the harsh reality, always making sure you're not anywhere near Luke whenever he has one of his outbursts or beats him, telling you the bruises are from a fight with a kook.

All the pogues treat you like you're their little sister and protect you like one, never letting you go on their more dangerous missions and shielding you from any harm.

JJ will always see you as his baby sister, you're his responsibility and the only thing he takes seriously in his life, well of course he teases you like every normal brother does but only him, the pogues sometimes too but they know to not go too far.

Your bubbly and overall nice personality is both a blessing and a curse, your want to spread positivity everywhere you go is as admirable as it's frustrating because many people, especially kooks, don't deserve to witness your sweet nature.

Protecting you is JJ's top priority, he wants you to grow up better than he did and offer you a carefree life full of love and fun. He'll be damned if something ever happens to you.

After you both sneaked inside the club, looking for the guy that has information.

JJ finally locks eyes with him and nods his head towards the restrooms, the guy quickly getting the hint and you both walk over to them when JJ turns to face you.

"Stay right here. I'll be back in a minute." He instructs and you nod with a smile, watching him go inside the men's restroom, swaying a bit back and forth on your feet.

While you look around you hope that no one notices that you shouldn't be here, too sensitive for any confrontation no matter the reason.

A group of boys who are standing a few feet away nursing their drinks spot you. "Dude, isn't that little Maybank?

"Shit yeah. Means her dumbass of a brother can't be far. Not to mention they sure as hell aren't supposed to be here." One of them observes, a smirk forming on his face.

Your head snaps back to the restrooms as you see JJ come out again and make his way back to you. "A'ight, mission accomplished. Let's head back to the others."

You nod and you both went on when suddenly someone blocks your path.

"Whoa, not so fast, pogues. Here to steal your next meal huh?" A brunette with a smug expression teases you both.

JJ clenches his jaw, moving you behind him protectively, his hands balling at his sides. "Man, we don't want any trouble."

"Who are you trying to fool here, Maybank? Your poor asses shouldn't even be here."

JJ glares at him but unclenches his fists again when he feels your hands grab onto his bicep, trying to keep himself in check, not wanting you to see him lash out.

He took a deep breath, about to just walk past that douchebag when he hears you yelp suddenly as the guy's friend slapped your ass.

"That little beauty can stay tho." The black haired boy chuckles.

Before you could comprehend what just happened JJ swiftly turns and swings his fist, his knuckles connecting with the guy's jaw who had dared to touch you.

You gasp at that, stumbling back and against the brunette, quickly turning around to face him and without thinking twice you push him over the railing and watch him fall into the water.

Hearing several gasps from the club members and employees around you has you freezing, grappling the fact what you just did when JJ grabs your hand.

"C'mon! We gotta go!" He stresses, pulling you out of your shocked state and you instantly start running, hearing the way JJ laughs. "Oh my god that was crazy!"

Pope slides open the Twinkie's door from inside when he sees you both running and you jump in, your back hitting the wall.

"Bro drive!" JJ shouts at John B and he quickly starts the van as you and your brother keep panting.

"What the hell happened?" Kie asks, looking you both over concerned.

"You guys will never believe it..." JJ breathes heavily, glancing at you with a grin and you blush, a small smile forming on your face. "Our little angel here just pushed a kook into the water."

You're surprised when your friends start to cheer and ask questions excitedly, wanting to know what happened.

You giggle as Kie and Cleo wrap their arms around your neck from each side, their hurried questions overlapping each other.

Pope ruffles your hair just like JJ always does, and you can hear John B laughing behind the wheel, smacking it a few times while Sarah claps her hands.

Your smile stays rooted on your face, feeling happy and safe in your family's presence.

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu

For JJ:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @flora-eva

[homelanderbutbig]

With You By My Side (G/T Homelander x Reader)

1842 words. Hurt/comfort, and a bit of angst. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Established relationship.

Homelander hurts you during a nightmare, and somehow he's more affected. Inspired by this ask.

While you don't know the full extent of Homelander's past, you know how he struggles to sleep at night. He may start out normally, but like clockwork, there is always a nightmare. Remnants of his traumatic childhood that still infest his psyche, jolting him from his slumber. You've seen him in the morning, waking from his horrid memories with a haunting gasp. Despite his heightened fear he still allows you to comfort him, snuggling his head into your chest and calming him down with your soothing words.

It isn't a perfect way to deal with his trauma, but it helps having someone there to guide him through it. Knowing that he can be safe in your arms no matter what he's dreamt brings him a meager level of solace he never was allowed to experience.

But this time, that didn't happen.

The evening comes and goes as normal, ending with the both of you sleeping in his bed. It must have been very late when you stirred awake hearing noises coming from beside you. You usually are a pretty sound sleeper, this was the first time you've caught him mid-nightmare. He's in an absolute state of disarray; his breaths are frenzied, his eyes are twitching uncontrollably, and his fists are clenching his bedsheets so tightly you swear he ripped them.

"Hey, wake up honey," you whisper, reaching out to touch his hand. You aren't really sure of the protocol to wake someone experiencing night terrors, but all you understand in this moment is Homelander needs help.

What ensues is faster than you can react. Your nudging indeed jolts him from his dreams, but even just a simple touch creates an automatic fight-or-flight response. With a guttural yell he launches upwards, eyes alight with a crimson heat as he swats fiercely at the imagined danger laying a finger on him.

In his dreams he was reliving a crystal clear memory of when he was a child in the lab, surrounded by doctors preparing another experiment on him. They were poking and prodding, sharp instruments gliding all over his body, his skin perceiving the searing and stabbing pain like it was truly real. When one particular touch pushes him over the edge, he awakes and immediately attacks in an attempt to protect himself.

However, instead of the familiar faces of the doctors he grew to despise, Homelander sees nobody in front of him. The ghosts of his past have released him from their grasp. Catching his breath he scans what is in front him, and begins to recognize his surroundings. He's safe, he's in his bedroom… but then…

Oh no.

In his bid to force whatever was touching him away, his large hand struck you so hard that he broke your wrist. He can easily see the extent of the damage with his X-ray vision. And you're glancing up at him in utter shock, clearly in pain but the extent of it not entirely hitting you yet.

His lasers dissipate as he stares directly at you, eyes wide and unblinking, mouth slightly open but unable to form a sentence. Everything around him no longer feels like reality. His heart is beating out of his chest, tears flowing down his cheeks as he is consumed by the realization of what he's done. The one thing he swore he would never do, hurt the sole person on earth that he loves.

He doesn't say one word to you before he frantically runs out of the bed and flies away from the balcony launchpad. He doesn't even take the 20 seconds to put his suit on, he couldn't stand the sight of what he'd done any longer.

Now you're alone to deal with the injury he's caused.

~~~

You're eternally grateful that there was still security roaming the Tower floors so late at night, and that nobody was questioning why you were walking around Vought wearing your pajamas. Everything that happened after Homelander broke your wrist was a blur, you were running on pure adrenaline. After he flew away, you rushed out to the elevator and went down to the main floor, calling out for help which luckily was not too far away. You were whisked away to the hospital, where your wrist was X-rayed and a cast was applied. Now with your pain under control, the doctor asked where you would be staying while you healed.

By the time you return to the penthouse, it's late in the afternoon. You considered not going back at all, perhaps just renting a hotel room and spending some time away from Homelander to process what transpired. But realistically you knew that was never going to happen, when you're dating a man who can hear your heartbeat from across the city. It's best to just confront him, and hash out these problems together.

Walking through the rooms, you notice how it doesn't seem like he's been back yet. Or so you thought, as peering into the bedroom reveals that his suit is missing from his bedside stand. He must have returned at some point to dress himself, but making certain that you weren't there. You can't say that it isn't something out of the ordinary; he will avoid you if he's feeling guilty about upsetting you with one of his shenanigans. And this time what he did was a doozy.

While contemplating in his bedroom, you hear the familiar sound of Homelander touching down on his balcony. He couldn't bear the long elevator ride up to the penthouse, and he's had enough time to be alone with his thoughts. After fleeing last night he hid out in the only place he can find reprieve in, his cabin. Yet he couldn't sleep, he was relentlessly pacing back and forth trying to come to terms with what occurred. He's always so careful to mind his strength, but he always knew this would happen eventually. There was a reason Madelyn never let him touch her; she was like you, a measly human. You might be intellectually on the same playing field, but physically... not only does he tower above you, he can also crush your skull with a flick of his wrist. One wrong move on his part and your life would be snuffed out.

And now you both have to come to the conclusion he's been obsessed with since he's gotten close to you. Your relationship was never going to work, it was doomed from the start.

You sigh to yourself, seeing him standing like a statue in the living room. Although he's facing your direction, his eyes are strictly planted on the ground. He's clearly held captive by his thoughts, the fear of what might happen next overtaking any rationality he usually possesses.

"Homelander," you call out to him, snapping him out of his dissociation as he jerks his head up. Now being able to see his face, you can tell how distressed this accident has been for him. His hair is unkempt from a lack of styling, his expression is dishevelled and drained, his eyes are bloodshot, and the residue of tears shed not long ago stain his face. He is a mess, but a mess of his own creation.

Because he was worried about you.

"Come lie down with me," you coax him as you use the stepping stool placed on the ground to maneuver on top of the bed. At first he refuses to move, but he can tell by the determined look in your eyes that you won't be taking no for an answer.

Tensing his jaw, he walks to the side opposite of you and hesitantly descends onto the bed. He's as still as a corpse in a coffin, petrified to move even in the slightest bit. Even moreso when he sees you shift closer to him, leaning against his pillow so you can look down at his big head.

"S-sorry…" you hear him mumble. The silence between you two was beginning to eat at him, and he had to say something… even if he was scared that you wouldn't forgive him.

"Sweetheart, it's okay. It wasn't your fault, I still love you," you reassure him. You can tell he's still struggling to accept your unconditional affection, especially now that's his greatest fear has been realized. He's hurt you, how can you even think of staying with him?

You're aware Homelander had an isolated childhood, and as a result he tends to overexamine his relationships. Every time he gets close to someone, he must look for the slightest hint of that person getting ready to leave him. They always do. It's times like these that really exemplify how despite being a foreboding eight foot tall giant, breaking through his 'tough guy persona' reveals that he's just a lonely, vulnerable child at heart. One who's only ever been abandoned, and who's desperate to never let that happen again.

"You know what humans and supes have in common?" you question him, smiling as he shakes his head no. He hasn't taken his eyes off you since he's lied down. "We're resilient. We might get hurt, but we all have the strength to heal the best we can. And I will heal too, with you by my side, there to help me."

With your one good arm you stroke his cheek with your palm. He wastes no time in angling his head into your delicate touch, craving this intimacy that he fretted he was going to lose forever. And the longer you pet him, the more his self-imposed burdens ease. The creases on his forehead and his furrowed brows have finally relaxed, leaving him with nothing more than to melt into your affection.

"You look like you're exhausted baby boy, you haven't gotten any sleep huh?" you ask, observing how Homelander is fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes open. And you're feeling quite tired yourself; you've been wired awake since your wrist was broken.

"I-I… I can't…" he stutters, tears once more forming in his eyes as a fresh wave of anxiety builds in his chest. "W-what i-if…"

"What if nothing," you cut him off, halting his crying once you lean down to kiss his forehead. "I'm not going to abandon you. If you have another nightmare, so be it. I will be here for you when you wake up, same as always. I promise to help you heal too."

Sighing deeply through his nose, he gives a nod in agreement to your words. He's too tired to fight back against your suicidal decision to stay with him… not that he'd want to anyway. Resting his big head against your chest, he's quickly lulled into slumber by the dulcet sounds of your heart in his ears, and the pleasant sensations of your fingers running along his scalp.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, Homelander wakes up in the morning feeling peaceful. He's safely snuggled up against the love of his life, and you kept your promise. You helped protect him from a nightmare.

[biancadoes1]

You are definitely the most level person I follow.

We have:

Swinging from depresso to depresso

Vs

They are married and starting a family!

You are reality and fact based. You prevent panicks. And just... thank you, y'know?

First, to get this out of the way, and this is no offense to you anon at all, but I do want to publicly state this.

Anything pertaining to FAMILY in ANY CAPACITY, in ANY FORM is not something I will talk about on this blog. I hope you're all understanding what I'm saying without having to say it. It's an uncomfortable topic for many and I'm sensitive to that.

Talk about it in private group chats all day but I want to keep it off public platforms to reduce any risk of it being seen by more people. I don't even want to publish this but I'm making it clear right now.

Please respect this. This is non-negotiable.

Now, all that to say, I definitely have my own unhinged, crazy ideas that I never discuss publicly. I prefer to keep my opinions as level headed as I can with what I believe is happening and what I say on here tends to be more in line with what I really feel so you guys aren't missing out on anything, trust me.

I'm positive there are many out there who think I'm a crazy bitch and that's fine. I haven't given a fuck what people think about me in a long time and I'm not going to start with some hoes online. If people like what I have to say, they'll stay.

If they don't, they'll go.

But I appreciate your compliment anon and I'm glad to have you here, friend.

[khorneschosen]

You're asking to have an argument about Trump's previous term to this one.

When it's quite clear the issue is about which side has the most empathy, common sense, and tolerance.

And when it comes to common sense y'all have none common sense belongs to a philosophy that you no longer practice or believe in.

It's a bumpkin version of rationalism, which Marxist outright deny the existence of. So you guys don't have common sense because you guys aren't rationalist or for that matter rational. Hence why existentialism formed as a reaction to the fact that the prophecy of Marx never came to fruition.

The masses and the proletarian never revolted on mass capitalism didn't become one giant monopoly nor is it really in danger of ever becoming a monopoly where the state is not involved.

What's more the standard living and wealth of the people living under capitalism or even quasi or broken capitalism are still doing better than all the people states of the world Even when those people states have access to a great deal of resources from the rest of the world.

This is by the way why market socialism is the big new hot push, what they really should call it however is modern Chinese socialism.

And however has the exact same problems of a socialist government with fewer tools to be able to deal with it. It's basically the state controls you and you control the factories but we control you so we control the factories anyway. Which is remarkably how national socialism works, you know it as fascism.

And then when it comes to empathy you guys have what can only really be described as transactional collective empathy. If a person or a group does what you say you have a great deal of empathy for them so much so that you'll let them get away with anything however if any member of that group goes against you or is even really just neutral and a way that you can't abide, even a small way you have no empathy for them.

And we've seen that when it comes to cishet white men for a while, and Asians and Jews recently, and even more recently Arabs and Hispanics who do not vote Democrat.

What I'm really describing here is just an in-group preference based on political or philosophical lines, But even then it's more based around whether or not that particular group is useful to you. Because despite everything destiny is one of your guys and y'all treat him like shit, because at times he dares to challenge you guys on some of your worst excesses and on your own terms. In a way that you simply cannot ignore. You can't rightly call him a conservative because the evidence of your own eyes and mind do not allow you to.

This too by the way goes for tolerance, The one axiom that you seem to have in group and outgroup preferences for being your politics and how useful someone is to the cause, you have no tolerance for it.

Meanwhile conservatives come from various different areas of influence. The Protestant and Catholics have long had their doctrine changed to better meet and work with reality. The capitalists are hard realists to the point of irrational pragmatism at times. And the nationalists are operating on a very old form of your system but they do it just for the people within their own nation. Which is just demanding that the benefactors be within their national boundaries.

Oh and liberals have a strong philosophical tradition that goes back to the enlightenment. Of course I mean classical liberals rather than communist calling themselves liberal because it's a lot easier than calling themselves a communist.

So as far as logic goes they're nowhere near as bad.

And as for empathy they are by definition conservatives they are being challenged and at every point of the challenge they have allowed you to challenge them in ways that they frankly shouldn't have. That their own code would have allowed them to crush you at any point and yet refuse to out of empathy intolerance for your kind.

And we're talking collectively right we're not talking about individual examples because if that's the case we'll be here all night but in the broadest strokes conservatives do have empathy tolerance and they're far more logical. I mean even scientific studies have shown that they have more risk assessment which you define is fear for the sake of your propaganda but really it's just risk assessment. Which one we're dealing with the country that is the leader of the free world and if its economy goes tits up, will destroy the free world and an economic collapse from which it will never recover from I don't say that fear or risk assessment is misplaced.

Like baseline conservative is infinitely more rational. Baseline libertarian is infinitely more rational because they at least acknowledge the reality of economics or culture. Y'all routinely ignore the risks or even cost of your actions and policies and ideologically do not believe in rationality.

So yeah leftist and I do mean leftist are less rational, less empathetic and less tolerant.

Also if you want me to get to your second question reword it a little bit, it's confusing how it's currently written.

[lucy90712]

heyyy can you please do a dating Kenan Yildiz headcannon🎀

- Kenan isn't just your boyfriend he's so much more than that he's your best friend too you were friends before you started dating and Kenan never lets that bond go he wants to always be there for you at any time whether that be as your boyfriend or as your best friend 

- He always treats you like a princess he always makes time for you and plans romantic dates at least twice a month he tries his best to do weekly date nights but he likes to take you out to a nice restaurant or something similar a couple times a month to make up for the amount of time he spends away from you 

- You are always his main priority so he always checks in with you to make sure you are happy and are coping with whatever you have going on at that time he always likes to make sure life isn't too much as he knows his reality is quite crazy and full on so he likes to make sure you are keeping up and if you aren't he wants to help you 

- This sentiment is carried through every second of your lives if you need him he will be there no matter the day or time he'll be there he can't always be there physically but he does his best to help you from wherever he is and if he has to he'll get his friends to go to you if you just need someone there

- Kenan is completely obsessed with you from the moment you met he was completely infatuated with you and that only got worse when you actually started dating he is so in love with you that sometimes he doesn't even know how to process his feelings towards you. He is so in love with you and he doesn't care what anyone else says they can make fun of him all they want but he knows how he feels and he knows he's never going to love anyone else more than he loves you 

- He can be quite clingy after a long day all he wants to do is have his arms around you for the rest of the day he is literally attached to you at the hip as you try to do anything he always has his arms wrapped around your waist and his head in the crook of your neck as he just wants to be close to you and you will never complain about having him be so clingy 

- His love language is definitely physical touch his hands are always on you when you are around but he also loves to give you gifts at the end of every week he likes to bring home something for you to show his appreciation for you even though he tells you everyday how much he appreciates you. Usually it will be something small like flowers or your favourite snack but sometimes he'll get you something he knows you've been wanting like a new book or a switch game you can play together

- Kenan never has a bad word to say about you when anyone asks him about you he will only ever say how truly amazing you are not just as his girlfriend but as a person. Even if you’ve had an argument Kenan will never speak badly about you as he knows anything he says won’t be true and he’ll feel awful about it later. He knows that you receive a lot of hate on social media and he never wants to add to that so he wants to show people how amazing he thinks you are in hopes that it makes even a small bit of difference 

- You two don’t often fight as you are good at communicating with each other and you know what annoys the other so you don’t do it but of course there are times that you do argue like any other couple but you always make up within a few hours. Kenan has a rule that you never go to bed angry at each other after one argument and a night apart that really hurt you both and since your relationship has been so much better 

- He is your biggest supporter and you are his he loves seeing you there to support him at his games wearing his shirt but he loves to be there for your achievements more. He would never skip something that is important to you even if he gets in trouble for missing training he doesn’t care. He knows that you will be in his life longer than football so he wants to be there for all the big moments in your life

- Kenan already knows he wants to spend the rest of his life with you so he makes sure he treats you that way you aren’t just his girlfriend your his future and he always wants you to know that

[naamahdarling]

What are the elevator game and Three Kings?

They're modern folklore/urban legend ritual games games akin to Bloody Mary, spread by creepypasta memes across the internet for thrills and chills. (I actually love creepypasta. There's some excellent horror in the genre. Ted the Caver and Candle Cove are both super cool, those aren't hard to find.)

The Elevator Game supposedly originates in Japan or South Korea, and involves getting into an elevator and pressing the buttons in a certain sequence in order to reach a surreal otherworld, with dire consequences should they fail to follow all the rules. It doesn't have a goal or reward, just the appeal of accessing a creepy alternate reality. It's a fairly popular bit of modern folklore and I enjoy it for its modern yet classic feel and its specificity. This is a game that it is actually feasible to play, unlike a lot of other modern creepypasta ritual games, which can be very complicated.

The Three Kings Ritual is another creepypasta ritual game, and it's a fucking banger. I HIGHLY recommend you read it in full.

It has a great name, great symbolism, a creepy as shit setup, and a genuine chance, I think, at getting something fucked up to happen (in the sense that you could very easily experience some trippy visual distortion and possibly some auditory stuff as well from the white noise of the fan).

It genuinely put my hairs up the first time with these bits (the bolded and italicized bits are of particular note):

Place one chair in the center of the room. ....Place the other two chairs exactly to the left and right, facing your throne. The distance between your throne and that of your queen and fool should be about the length of your arm to each side, more or less. Place the two large mirrors on the queen and fool chairs left and right of you, facing you (and each other). Try your best to have them stand at a 90 degree angle (or else you may get more or less than three kings). If you sit on your throne facing straight ahead (north), you should be able to perceive your own reflection in each of the two mirrors without actually having to turn your head nor your eyes to do so. If you see your own reflection in the corner of your eye, just barely there, then you've done it right.

So you can see how this would lend itself to seeing things. Mirrors are already creepy. With a small light in a dark room, it gets worse. This isn't about a demon or vengeful spirit, just...presences, which is much creepier to me because on some level it feels more plausible.

Look straight ahead, at the darkness. Not at the candle, not at the mirrors, just straight ahead. Eagle-eyed readers surely noticed I didn't say during setup which chair was queen and which chair was fool. That's because it's your job to find out. And from their point of view, you are either their queen or their fool, too. Hence three kings.

Fucking hell.

Again the goal is nebulous. The original text leaves so many things unanswered. Are we to converse with these entities, to ask questions? What the actual fuck happens if you get the angle wrong and get more than two spirits?

All I know is that I am curious. This is absolutely my favorite ritual game.

[fight-nights-at-freddys]

back at it on r/antiship. for the hell of it, let's go thru why these are strawman arguments at best, stupid at worst, or why what they're saying is objectively true!

TL;DR, half of the things they say are correct, but are framed as being bad things, and the other half is just misinterpreting what proshippers actually say. also they don't know what "normalization" or "romanticization" mean.

hiding under the cut so y'all don't gotta scroll for years

-first pic- that isn't the reason conservatives think lgbt ppl are pedos. they'd think that regardless of what fiction they like, because no matter what, they'd see us as predators/pedos/whatever bad thing. q art will always be inherently problematic to conservatives.

the reason WHY people equate "problematic" fanfic/art to q art is because they both deserve to be protected, they both are often called "degenerate", and that if they censor one, they'll censor both, because to the people that want to censor it, they're both one and the same. it's always "too sexual", or "what if kids see it", or "it promotes the Bad Thing", and just because they're pointing the gun at "problematic" fiction rn, doesn't mean they won't turn the gun on YOU.

-second pic- 1. fiction doesn't affect reality! at least not on a 1:1 basis! correct! 2. that is also correct! i can be interested in violent, gory movies, but i don't like OR condone violence or gore irl! correct! 3. if it walks, talks, and acts like a puritan, it's probably a puritan. stop advocating for censorship and puritanism and we won't call you that. 4. correct again! it isn't mine or anyone else's job to monitor what other people's kids do on the internet. the internet is not for children. 5. hate to say it, because i don't wanna say ANYONE protects predators, but antis do tend to create spaces where preds can sneak around undetected as long as they say The Right Thing™. 6. if you're allowing your 6 yr old to watch videos that say "fluttershy supports MAPs!", then you need to take away the ipad, not start banning shit. 7. gonna keep it real, idk what this means. stop using these words, i guarantee you they don't mean what you think they mean. 8. same as above 9. what 10. okay great, good for you that you only know ONE predator that's an anti. what about the hundreds of others that lurk in the shadows because they say the right thing, and pretend not to like problematic stuff? what about Kyle Carrozza, ya know, the anti that was arrested not too long ago? feel like we're ignoring some stuff here for the sake of pretending your side's good, and ours is bad.

-third pic- 1. well, antis are, aren't they? if you think csem should be criminalized (and it should), and you equate fanart to actual csem, then yes, you ARE trying to criminalize fantasy. 2. two things. for one, it's not always a sexual thing. hell, half the time it isn't. and two, fetishes DON'T hurt anyone (unless the whole point is to hurt someone, but there's always consent!) 3. correct! fictional characters don't have rights. are you advocating for them to? 4. you can't act like porn abolition isn't a cornerstone argument for A LOT of antis. if you agree that fictional smut is bad, chances are you think porn's bad, too. (which also overlaps with radfem beliefs too!) 5. they're not blood related because they're NOT REAL. it doesn't matter if they say they're blood related, because they're fictional. 6. are you insinuating you need to get consent from these fictional characters before you ship them? 7. why should i care? does it hurt anyone? no. does it do any damage? no. is there any downside whatsoever? no? then what does it matter. let people do what they want forever.

[perolesims]

Alani: what do we do now?

Colten: well, we live.

Alani: but the house is so empty... I don't believe I'm going to miss their fights.

Alani: what if they forget about me? What if they don't come to see us?

Colten: They wouldn't do that.

Alani: was I a good mother?

Colten: Alani, I know you don't need affirmations from anyone: but you are the most incredible sim I've ever met, little orange. There's no way those two kids aren't completely in love and crazy about you. just like me. You were and are the mother they needed.

Colten: and if everything goes wrong, if those two crazy daughters forget about us, know that I would never, ever, my love, leave you alone. In any world, galaxy, reality, it will be you and me forever, orange.

Alani: I love you, Colten.

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