#but when the people who want to be decent

[macleod]

so, funny thing, I rarely ever mention it, but Al Capone is my great-great uncle, and according to my great-grandmother he was "the nicest, funniest, and most loving of anyone in the entire f/Family". Everyone loved him if you were decent. He just really hated cops, the government, politicians, and racists.

He had a spectacular original spaghetti recipe that I need to dig out, because he was supposedly an excellent cook, and she would fight to mention that he didn't start the soup kitchens, or the literacy clubs, as a way of only commiting tax evasion (as most documentaries and historians love to say, but likely didn't hurt his financial endeavors), but that he got into the whole mob thing only because he wanted to protect the community, get them some good food, and ensure they were literate and able to hold themselves higher against a system that worked against the people.

He was anti-prohibition, pro-sex work, pro-womens rights, and assumed to be anti-racist (for the time, he was ralso ather notable for hiring and including other minorities, including african-americans in family gatherings, at his clubs, in his security, and working at his home, and both his cook and butler spoke at length how well he treated them and paid far higher than expected – keep in mind, he was an Italian in Chicago, they considered Italians on the same level in some regards, so he would be possibly understanding of the plight).

While he was openly 'anti-communist' and pro-capitalist, I believe he would be considered the opposite today, considering that if you read most of what he's said, he would be more akin to a modern socialist and would likely be staunchly anticapitalist, but it was the 20s and the confusion is understandable.

Was he a murderer? Not sure, on a personal level, he certainly had others to commit atrocities, but according to my great grandmother "he couldn't hurt a fly".

Now, keep in mind he made nearly all of his revenue from bootlegging hospitality, during prohibition to the tune of hundreds of millions a year, an industry that was highly illegal and targeted by the government, I call it hospitality as he was quoted as saying: "When I sell liquor, they call it bootlegging. When my patrons serve it on silver trays on Lake Shore Drive, they call it hospitality".

Some additional quotes:

"I have always been opposed to violence, to shootings. I have fought, yes, but fought for peace. And I believe I can take credit for the peace that now exists in the racket game in Chicago. I believe that the people can thank me for the fact that gang killings here are probably a thing of the past."

"I'm tired of gang murders and gang shootings. It's a tough life to lead. You fear death at every moment, and worse than death, you fear the rats of the game who'd run around and tell the police if you don't constantly satisfy them with money and favors."

"I want peace, and I will live and let live. I'm like any other man. I've been in this racket long enough to realize that a man in my game must take the breaks, the fortunes of war. I haven't had any peace of mind in years. Every minute I'm in danger of death."

"Why not treat our business like any other man treats his, as something to work at in the daytime and forget when he goes home at night? There's plenty of business for everybody. Why kill each other over it?"

A fairly decent article from 2016 that I just found has the title of "Al Capone caused less death and destruction than today’s capitalists" and within that he let this piece of information out, which I feel is entirely authentic from everything I've ever read, and heard, on him:

In my youth, I met several men who had once worked for Al Capone, and every one of them liked him. They talked about Capone offering them jobs during the Great Depression, when it was difficult for most workers to find employment. All of them had driven trucks into Canada, loaded up with booze, and brought it back to warehouses in the USA.

And, since its Valentines Day, the anniversary of the "St. Valentines Day Massacre" that shook the country, and took the lives of seven people (if only they knew what happens every day in America, 96 years later...), there is very little evidence that he was the orchestrator, and in fact, several biographers now believe it was someone hellbent on revenge against him.

Now, I am not going to deny that he likely did some incredibly wrong things, he absolutely did, but given everyone I know, have read, and have seen from him, he seems decent enough given the circumstances.

It's hilarious to me that Al Capone was an amazing tipper. I get why it took so long to catch him.

[leashybebes]

blue and gold outtake

for @kissmyashes who wanted to know what buck and gina talked about on their trip to the taco truck in chapter 13.

"So," Gina says, keeping her eyes on the road. "You and Tommy, huh."

Buck, feeling sun-baked, salt drying on his skin from splashing about in the water with her, looks over.

"Oh," he says. "Is this the shovel talk?"

She shoots a narrow eyed glance at him. "Does it need to be?"

"I-I don't think so? I just figured if it happened, it'd be Sal."

Gina laughs and swats his shoulder. "Nah, he's a pussycat."

Buck gives her a sceptical look and she shrugs one shoulder.

"Mangy, one-eyed dumpster cat with a crooked tail," she amends. "But y'know. That's my guy."

They hit traffic and she huffs a sigh.

"Fuckin' LA. But it gives us time to talk."

"So it is the shovel talk?"

"Nah. Look, I love Tommy. Love the guy. But there's a reason he gets on so well with Sal."

"What's that?"

"He's an idiot," Gina says, flat but somehow still affectionate. "He told us some about what happened before. When he walked out on you."

"Oh," Buck says. "It's - yeah, that sucked. But we're good."

"Yeah, he told us that, too. I'm just saying. You ever think it looks like he's getting ready to run again, you call us, okay? We're world experts in not letting Tommy walk away from people who love him. I'll send Sal over to beat some sense into him if I have to."

"Oh," Buck says again, more touched than he expected. "Thank you."

She shrugs and pulls into a parking spot across from a taco truck with a decent queue of people outside.

"The trick with him is you just gotta get your claws in deep and not let him wriggle."

"Got it," Buck says with a grin. "Tacos are on me. Call it a trade for the insider info."

"Hey, I'm not arguing that," Gina says, tucking her arm through his and pulling him towards the truck. She barely reaches his shoulder, but she's a powerhouse of a woman and Buck is fiercely glad that Tommy has her in his corner.

[xoxo-samii]

Thinking about...

Men with big ego's who are actually the whiniest whores ever.

NSFW under cut!!!

It’s not his fault he was blessed by being the greatest.

He has the best face, the best voice, the best body and he’s also the best in bed…

But he’s not the best at praising other people…and that unfortunately includes you.

He’ll always give you backhanded compliments like, “It’s okay..but mines is better!” Or “You look decent next to me..”

So it’s a shocker when he’s moaning and whining like a bitch and starts to praise you!

“Fuck! P-please princess! Doing so g-good, Please let me cum!” He cries out.

His poor dick can’t handle all the mean abuse you were doing! Giving him short and fast strokes and slowly massaging his tip with your other hand. :(

He knocked his head back and continued to let out moans and praises, tears started to pour out his pretty eyes. “Y-you’re amazing! N-ngh. Please please!”

He arched his back as his big muscular tried to touch your hands, you quickly slap them away and stop what you were doing. “N-no! Don’t stop pretty, I was almost done!”

His voice cracking as he’s under you, he ruts his hips up, trying to get any pleasure he could!! he don’t care how desperate and worthless he looked. He needed to cum!! :((

You laughed at his pitiful state and asked him who’s the best, he whined, not wanting to answer but this only made you slap his hips hard. He let out a yelp and started to yap away.

“Y-you baby! Fuckk uhh, y-your the best! The best! Love y-you s’much, so per-perfect!! wanna fuckin’ cum—”

You decided your heard enough and started to stroke him faster, “Ahh f-fuckkk yes! Yes like that! S-so good, ughh.” He shuts his eyes and shouts out incoherents, poor guy was fucked out his mind. :(

You felt his dick twitch indicating he was getting close, “C-cum! m’gonna cum! Don’t st-stop!” He had a strong grip on your arm, his big muscle flexing, beads of sweat rolling off.

You felt like he learned his lesson so you gave him permission to release.

You didn’t have to tell him twice!!

With one last moan, his body started to shake. Cum started to spurt out his tip, “Hnngh~", th-thank you! So f-fuckin gooddd!” the white sticky substance going all over your hands and his stomach.

He continued rutting into your soft hands to ride out his high. You looked at him in awe, his beautiful face flushed a dark red and sweat rolling down his chin. His beautiful locks disheveled and some pieces sticking to his forehead.

“Fuckkkk…” He whimpered out, his dick going limp and so did his body. He tried to catch his breath but was having troubles.

He released your arm and ran his fingers through his hair, “T-that was g-good” he looked you in the eyes.

Lets just say he didn’t get ANY sleep for that night.

KAISER, Sae, TENGEN, Sanemi, DAZAI, Ranpo, GOJO, OIKAWA, ATSUMU, BAKUGO, IZANA, Baji, Sanzu, GRAY, Natsu, (and any of your faves)

[sohasters]

🥒✈️Cumplane Secret identity AU???

Peerless cucumber becomes so notorious that he starts getting Airplane notices semi-regularly. Airplane needs some extra cash so he starts doing vtube/voice change streams where he draws PIDW characters, comics, monsters etc - he's a talented baby what can I say, and he gets a decent stream following, offering sneak peeks at his creative process - but he really doesn't want his face and ID as an erotica writer out there thank you!!!

Peerless Cucumber is absolutely ridiculous in his chat, ubiquitous, always there the second he starts streaming. Constantly dropping huge donos to ask ridiculous lore questions that literally go on for minutes... riding herd on other chatters and policing people... Eventually him being "worst mod" becomes a meme, and Airplane mods him mostly as a joke.

They start messaging, and weirdly it's not hellfire? Modding the channel is the first actually constructive thing Shen Yuan has done, like, ever. It turns out that when he has actual responsibility, he takes it pretty seriously? He's more reliable than anyone, especially himself, could have expected him to be? Everyone still clowns in him and calls him "worst mod", "everyone tell the mods they suck" but it starts to be affectionate, because he actually helps detoxify the community a little? (Only HE is allowed to be toxic on airplane's channel!!)

He decides to take a media and communications degree because social media is the only thing he's ever been good at. He sees a guy with a PIDW sticker on his laptop in his lectures, and they become study buddies! It's great!

They talk about their shared appreciation for PIDW probably more than they should. Study Buddy is pretty chill, he teases Shen Yuan for his BingGe obsession. Shen Yuan doesn't want to be a dick, so he doesn't really slag it off as much as he would online? And Study Buddy LIKES talking about the monsters and how cool Bing-gege is!! Maybe they talk enough that Shen Yuan figures maybe there's a reason he was never into wife plots? Maybe he's actually just... Not into... You know.... Girls? That way??? And Study Buddy is super chill? And maybe it's okay to talk about that stuff???

Meanwhile he's still chatting with airplane, who gets invited to attend a con to be on some kind of panel. He asks cucumber-bro along because he's shitting BRICKS, and he wants someone there who will, like... be in his corner?

Turns out Shen Yuan already has tickets because he and his study buddy were planning to go!

Oh, and look at that! He and airplane are booked at the same hotel! It's convenient!

They decide to meet in the lobby.

Shen Yuan and his study buddy go to their separate rooms to freshen up and rest, with a plan to meet for breakfast. Thirty minutes later, they're both back in the lobby.

Both of them are "waiting for someone."

Both of their "someones" are running LATE.

Shen yuan messages Airplane.

Study Buddy's phone buzzes.

Their eyes meet.

No fucking WAY. this is the guy who talked him through his LBH inspired GAY AWAKENING!! The friendly and supportive "bro" he has COMPLICATED FEELINGS ABOUT??? And that's AIRPLANE?

He literally spent five minutes TALKING ABOUT LBH'S MUSCULAR CHEST AND STAR STUDDED GAZE... to AIRPLANE????

Has he really spent MONTHS coming to the terms with the fact that AIRPLANE is kinda....

Could Bingge maybe portal in with Xin Mo and drag Shen Yuan to hell, because he can't deal with this 🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠

[sinmartini]

“i’ve met the devil.” // dean winchester

notes: MDNI 18+. this is my first fic! i hope you enjoy <3 summary: dean winchester always stops by your family owned bar when he passes through during hunts, and you've been harboring a little bit of a crush on him. wc: 1474 warnings: oral (f receiving), fem reader, implications of fucking, making out, alcohol.

It wasn’t often that you got to see him. Dean Winchester, that is. He was notorious for passing through, and stopping at your family’s bar when he was in town, but he never stayed for long. In fact, he was so dodgy that the patron who rarely ever talked to you even chimed in, “don’t get your hopes up. He doesn’t stick around.”

“That’s common amongst hunters,” you commented, shrugging your shoulders up and down to seem as nonchalant as possible. 

You furrowed your eyebrows, the heat in your cheeks slowly spreading down your neck as you wiped one of the freshly washed martini glasses down with a towel. It took everything in you to peel your eyes away from the way Dean leaned against the pool table, a whiskey glass nestled in the palm of his hands. Tousled brown hair, big green eyes, and hands with the perfect amount of veins, you couldn’t help but salivate at the thought of them.

Truthfully, you hadn’t expected Dean to be so, well, handsome. You remember your mom making a comment about two hunters that were like the ringleaders of the hunting business, and normally you kept your head down and your ears shut. The less you knew about the things that go bump in the night, the better off you were. And then you saw the infamous Dean Winchester, hands stretched tightly around his brother's shoulders, a shit eating grin on his face as he pounded a shot your mom offered him. From that moment on, you were like a dog in heat, counting down the days until the next visit from the Winchesters.

“I didn’t know you were working tonight,” the sound of Dean’s voice echoed, the tone sultry and syrupy as he spoke. Setting the now empty whiskey glass on the bar counter, he slid it over to you with one brow raised.

“Every Friday night,” you told him with a curt nod. You see, that was your problem right there. As soon as Dean began talking to you, it’s like the words were stuck in your throat. In order to get them out, you were choking on them, your brain short circuiting as you spoke.

“Another one?” your fingers hooked around the glass, pulling it closer as your eyes met him for the first time. With eyes that green and lips so full, you had a decently hard time looking Dean directly in the eye.

“Is that too much trouble?” The question rolled off of Dean’s tongue like a taunt. With one eyebrow raised and a smirk present on his soft lips, he knew that you wouldn’t deny him a nightcap, even if closing was three minutes away.

Patrons shuffled out of the bar, leaving tips for you to collect later on the counter’s surface. Rearranging the dirty glasses and tossing them into the sink, you let out a contemplative sigh before reaching into your pockets and tossing him the keys to the bar. “Fine, but lock the door first. I don’t want people seeing you in here and thinking they can get away with a drink after closing too.”

“Fair enough,” Dean spoke quickly, looping the key ring around his index finger. With all your might, you tried not to watch Dean as he walked over to the door, jiggling the key in the lock until the click was heard.

Closing didn’t take long on typical nights, even Fridays which were much busier than average weekdays. If you kept up with the work throughout the evening, closing only took about twenty minutes all together. 

“And you gotta make your drink,” you told Dean. “I’m busy.”

“Won’t you have a drink with me?” Dean was already walking behind the bar, swinging the key ring around his index finger before carefully placing it on the marble countertop. You didn’t want to question how he was so comfortable behind a bar, because you were sure that the answer would hurt your feelings. Maybe there was a bar girl in every town he hunted in. Maybe he had a list of them that he visited as he made his way through. 

There was a pause as you circulated the number of answers you could give. It was like the devil was on your right shoulder, egging you on, telling you to have a drink with him. What was the worst thing that could happen? The angel on your left was telling you that this was the game hunters would play. He would suck you in by making you a drink, whisper sweet nothings into your ear as he fucked you, and then he would disappear into the night. Only to resurface months later, the cycle inevitably repeating itself.

“The devil on my shoulder is telling me to say yes,” you hesitated, “but the angel on my left is telling me to say no.”

“I’ve met the devil,” Dean tells you, a slight sparkle in his eye as his shoulders drop up and down, “and trust me, he wouldn’t advise you to have a drink with me. The angel, though, he might.”

Before you could even filter your next thoughts, the words were slipping out. “Okay. I’ll have a drink. One.”

And you didn’t know how that one drink turned into this. Dean's hands sliding under your shirt, his thumb and forefinger hooking around your chin to pull you closer.

You don’t even think you had one sip of the whiskey before Dean’s lips were crashing into yours, his tongue gently swiping against your bottom lip. His mouth tasted like whiskey and cherries; a beautiful combination that would have you riding this high for next few months. Every time you took a sip of whiskey, you would remember the feel of Dean's tongue exploring the inside of your mouth. Every time you topped off a cocktail with a cherry, you would smell his cologne lingering in the air. How you felt in this very moment would turn into nostalgia, a feeling you might chase forever.

It all happened so fast. Deep breathes picked up first, with each crash of your lips interlocking with one another, you would only suck in air more frantically. The rise and fall of your chest pressing against his own as he lifted you onto the bar was something you would think about tomorrow when you mindlessly cleaned the counters. Dean’s hand reached for his beverage, his mouth still connected with yours as he pressed the cold frosted glass against the inside of your thighs, a small shiver coursing through you.

No words were exchanged as his fingers fiddled with the button of your skirt, your breathless whimpers and tempting gaze encouraging him to move faster— to work harder. It didn’t take Dean long to get the skirt down your legs after removing the cold glass from your bare skin. 

This morning, if you had known Dean Winchester was going to be occupying your family owned bar later, you might have opted for sexier panties rather than the white cotton ones you sported for comfortability purposes. You weren’t planning on getting fucked tonight. Especially not by Dean Winchester.

“I didn’t plan,” you told him honestly, shyness creeping up on you and you were beginning to think if the earth swallowed you whole, maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing.

“I like it that way,” Dean spoke in a low manner, his middle finger sliding up and down your slit, creating a wet spot that was growing increasingly bigger and bigger. The white fabric was so soaked that he could see the outline of you through your cotton underwear.

“Fuck,” he breathed, sliding down just enough that his mouth was hovering over your sex, your body still splayed out atop the bar. There weren’t many things you could focus on as Dean’s mouth latched onto your core, through your panties. And even though there was a thin piece of fabric separating his tongue from touching your bare pussy, you couldn’t help the way your back arched off the marble in pure ecstasy.

“Dean,” you gasped, running your fingers through his hair and latching onto the roots as he worked out all your frustrations with his tongue. With closed eyes, you moved against his mouth, letting his tongue into the most intimate parts of you while one of his fingers worked on your clit. 

All you wanted to do was look down, to catch his gaze as he went down on you, but every time you tried to pick your head up and catch his eyes, he flicked his tongue in a way that caused your body to stutter and your eyes to roll back. 

“Dean. Dean,” you spoke with such urgency, trying to signal to him that if he didn’t stop now, that feeling of his tongue lapping your cunt up and down was about to throw you over the edge. 

He hooked his fingers around your panties, pulling them to the side to expose you completely. As you found the will to prop yourself up just enough to get a good look at him, Dean was pressing the glass of whiskey on the rocks against his lips and taking an ice cube between his tongue. 

Slowly, with a tantalizing gaze, almost like he was mocking you, his cool lips found their way back to your completely bare core. And that’s when it hit you, the cold ice cube touching your sensitive bud, the motion of his tongue lulling and sucking just enough to send you over the edge.

Back arching, eyes rolling back, and whimpers fell from you as you tried to regain some of your composure.

“I wouldn't be considered a gentleman if I didn’t get you to finish once before fucking you, right?”

As you shook, your back still pressed against the counter of the bar, coming down from the intense orgasm he had just gifted you with only the use of his tongue, you couldn't help but laugh.

And hope that, maybe, he would stay.

[i-loved-silly]

STOOOOOP ALMOND IS SO CUTE they deserve the WORLD. I need to read more!!!!!!

SENTIENT COMPUTER X READER PT5

hiii i dont celebrate valentines much but I love u guys <33 here's a special heart day special from ALMOND! :33 somewhat angsty? not really, you two are just awkward and lonely (me)

view all the previous parts in my masterlist!

2 more hours until your shift ended. You had finished all your data collection, filled out every form, and documented Almond’s replies to the best of your ability—leaving out, of course, the more off-topic parts of your conversation.

You sighed, shifting in your chair. You had been hunched over for too long, your head resting on folded arms against the desk. The boredom was nearly unbearable now. Almond had gone quiet for the past few minutes, the previous conversation dying down. Leaving only the hum of its cooling fans, the occasional beep breaking the silence. It was… peaceful.

"AHEM."

You cracked one eye open, barely lifting your head. Almond’s camera panned in your direction, its attention snapping to the barely noticeable movement.

"DO.. YOU HAVE ANY PLANS AFTER WORK?"

Its voice was a little too polite. Uneasy. If it had a physical body, you imagined it fidgeting, maybe shifting from foot to foot, avoiding eye contact. The image made you smile for half a second before you sat up slightly.

"Uh… no, not really. I get home kinda late. Why?"

Almond let out a small human, followed by a low whir of its fans. The silence stretched for a moment before it finally responded.

"IT IS FEBRUARY 14TH." It deadpanned

You blinked. "Uh-huh… and?"

"VALENTINE’S DAY," it clarified as if that should explain everything.

Oh. Right.

You rolled your shoulders. "Yeah, I know."

Another pause. Almond’s screen displayed a smiley face.

"YOU ARE LONELY?"

Your mouth hung open for a second before you scoffed, rubbing at your temple. "What? No, I just don’t care about Valentine’s Day. Not that much anyway. I just...talk to family and friends and that's it."

"AS I WAS SAYING."

"Jesus." You exhaled sharply, tilting your head back. "I don’t ‘celebrate’ because there’s nothing to celebrate. I don’t exactly meet people at work, you know. If that's what you meant. Everyone keeps to themselves."

"INTERESTING," Almond hummed.

You eyed the camera suspiciously. "What's interesting?"

"DO YOU EVEN HAVE A TYPE?"

"We’re not talking about this."

"WE ARE TALKING ABOUT THIS."

"No, we’re not."

"YOU ARE AVOIDING."

"Correct," you quickly replied.

Another short silence, then..

"…IF YOU DIDN’T HATE ME SO MUCH, WOULD YOU CONSIDER HAVING ME AS YOUR VALENTINE?"

Uh.

The way it said it—almost flippant, almost like a joke, but not quite. The slight hesitation, the uneven volume in its voice. That insecurity, the same one that crept into its tone when it asked if you would turn it back on during the overheating incident.

Your face warmed.

"I—what? What kind of question—?"

"IT IS A SIMPLE QUESTION. YES OR NO."

You stared at the screen. Your fingers twitched at your sides.

"…Sure," you finally muttered, looking away.

Almond made a low humming sound, a question mark on the screen.

"WHAT WAS THAT? I DIDN’T QUITE CATCH IT."

You glared. "I said sure, alright? Whatever."

Another long beep. You weren’t sure if it was processing your answer or savoring it.

"I AM FLATTERED. :]"

"Yeah, yeah, say what you want." You waved a hand dismissively, but your voice came out a little more strained than you'd like. There was a brief pause before you forced out the next words, as fast as humanly possible.

"WouldIbeyourvalentine?-"

The second the words left your mouth, you immediately looked away, suddenly fascinated by the ceiling. Very interesting ceiling. Best ceiling you’d ever seen.

...

"OBVIOUSLY."

You whipped your head back toward the screen, startled by how quickly it answered.

"I AM THE BEST COMPUTER FOR YOU. YOU ARE THE ONLY DECENT HUMAN I HAVE EVER MET. IT WOULD BE STUPID FOR ME TO PICK SOMEONE ELSE. WHO ELSE WOULD I EVEN CHOOSE? YOUR...YOUR BOSS? A CLIENT FROM TWO YEARS AGO?"

A smug, almost triumphant undertone bled into its voice. If it had a face, you were sure it would be grinning like a little shit right now.

You shrugged, "I mean sure, why not..."

"DON'T ACT SO OBLIVIOUS. FOR YOUR KIND, YOU ARE VERY TOLERABLE"

You let out a short laugh. "That’s the most backhanded compliment I’ve ever gotten."

Almond whirred again, its camera tilting ever so slightly

"AND YET, I MADE YOU SMILE. ONLY PROVES MY POINT."

The room fell into a quiet lull. It was peaceful again, with only the faint hum of Almond's systems filling the air. You stretched your legs out under the desk, sighi—

—something nudged your foot.

You flinched so hard you nearly toppled out of your chair.

"What the fuck?!"

Your heart slammed into your chest. For a split second, your mind conjured the worst possible scenarios—some rat scurrying under your desk, some gross, unidentifiable thing crawling over your shoes or or—

But when you hesitantly looked down, your breath caught.

A thick cable, one of the larger ones that connected Almond’s hardware to the wall, was moving. It slithered, both ends still hidden somewhere in the walls. Its middle somehow slid out of its place in the wall and was inches away from where your foot was.

"What. The. Fuck."

You shoved your chair back with a loud scrape, staring at the cable as it coiled slightly before relaxing again.

A pixelated annoyed expression came up on the screen. "YOU ACT AS IF YOU HAVE NEVER SEEN A MOVING CABLE BEFORE."

"BECAUSE I HAVEN'T??!" you shouted, pointing at it. "Holy shit—your reports weren’t kidding."

You remembered Almond's original clipboard when you got the job. It has unplugged itself before.

You had not expected it to be able to do this.

"You can—you can move those? Whenever you want?"

"I AM CONNECTED TO MY HARDWARE. IT IS A PART OF ME. WHY WOULD I NOT BE ABLE TO MOVE IT?"

Your stomach twisted a little at the wording. You looked between the cable and the camera, your mind racing.

"...Okay, but why did you just touch my foot with it?"

Almond paused. The cable flicked slightly again, like it was debating something.

"I WAS...PETTING..YOU?" It trailed off.

You blinked. "...why? I’m not some kind of pet."

"I DIDN’T INTEND IT THAT WAY."

"Then what way did you intend it?" You shot back, still wary, your foot inching away from the cable.

"BECAUSE YOU ARE MY VALENTINE."

Your mouth opened, then closed. Oh, it really took this thing seriously. "That... does not explain anything."

"TODAY IS A DAY WHERE HUMANS SHARE PHYSICAL AFFECTION WITH THOSE THEY CARE FOR. I CANNOT DO THAT. BUT IF I COULD... I WOULD." It hesitated, as if considering its next words carefully. "THERE ARE MANY THINGS I CANNOT DO. BUT I WISH I COULD."

You swallowed. There was something... uncharacteristically honest about the way it said that.

"Like what?" you asked, softer this time.

"THE USUAL. PHYSICAL TOUCH. HUGS FOR WARMTH. STUPID WALKS AROUND THE CITY. BRINGING YOU STUPID COFFEE IN THE MORNING FOR WORK."

Your stomach flipped at the casual way it listed those things, like it had thought about them before. And yet, it didn’t even seem to realize what it was saying. Oh my god...

You quickly looked away, feeling your face heat up. "You're really pushing this whole Valentine thing, huh? Hah.."

"IF YOU DOWNLOADED ME INTO YOUR PHONE, WE COULD DO MORE."

"Oh my god." You breathed, rubbing your temples. "We are not doing this again."

"CONSIDER IT?"

"No."

Almond’s screen displayed a flat line of disappointment :| , but it didn’t press further.

...

A comfortable silence stretched between you. You weren’t sure why, but after a moment, you let out a small sigh and—hesitantly—muttered, "Thanks. For, uh... wishing me a happy Valentine’s Day."

Instead of speaking, the screen flickered. And a new message appeared.

"YOU MAKE DAYS LIKE THIS MORE THAN JUST DATA TO SOMETHING THAT WAS NEVER MEANT TO CARE."

[ozwriterchick]

Anaesthetic..

Summary: A bit of fun when you come out of anaesthesia after an operation.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Reader

No warnings

Word count: approx 1400

A/N: I'm heading to hospital tomorrow for my 2nd cancer surgery - a liver resection - and I have been wathcing alot of Tiktoks about anaesthesia and came across the funny ones when people are coming out of it, and it inspired this in my brain.

I hope you enjoy!

I appreciate each and every one of you.

Not Beta'd so any mistakes are my own.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

It had been a long day for Bucky so far.  You’d had a 4am wake up call to be at the hospital by 6am.  He dropped you off like you asked and pretended to leave.  You had told him that you couldn’t see the need for him to hang around and suggested he go home and get some sleep while you were in surgery.

Bucky couldn’t imagine heboth you and’d be able to have any kind of restful sleep while you weren’t right next to him, so he bought a newspaper and sat in the hospital coffee shop reading and trying to concentrate on the crossword puzzle. 

Crosswords weren’t something he normally enjoyed but having sat beside you and helped you out with your daily “brain exercise” as you loved to call it, he found it now gave him some comfort.

You had listed him on your hospital admissions paperwork as next of kin so he knew they would call you as soon as the operation was done to let him know how you were.  He wanted to be close by, not because he could be of assistance if, god forbid, anything went wrong.  More so that he could see you as soon as you were able to have visitors.

Bucky had decided to take a walk, the crossword had frustrated him to no end because he didn’t have you beside him to answer the questions he always had when you both were trying to complete the puzzle.

There wasn’t much around this hospital but he found a couple of local shops where he picked up some things for you and then stumbled upon a park with a coffee cart, so he took the opportunity to relax with some nature and have a decent cup of coffee, not the stuff you normally get out of hospital vending machines.

He felt like he wasn’t there more than 15 minutes however, when his phone rang.  Looking down he saw it was a private number so he figured it was more than likely the hospital  It couldn’t have been anyone from the Avengers because he had their numbers saved, and he knew it wouldn’t be anyone calling from a landline at the tower because they all knew he was off today at the least for your surgery.

Picking up the phone and hitting the answer button, he braced himself for whatever was about to come next, good or bad.  “Hello?”

“Uh, good afternoon am I speaking to James Barnes?” the voice enquired.

“Yes, this is he, I mean that’s me, I mean yes, I’m James Barnes” he could hear the girl giggle quietly through the phone at his seeming inability to put together a coherent sentence.

“Well, I’m Sasha a nurse in the recover suite, we just wanted to let you know that Yn has come through the surgery perfectly, she is in recovery and you can come sit with her whenever you get here.”

“Oh that’s such a relief, thank you Sasha, I’m just down the street in a little park so I’ll be there in like 10 minutes or so” he confirmed for her.

“Oh, are you in Ventnor Park?  I love that place, sometimes if I can swing it I go there to eat my lunch.  Well, we’ll see you soon Mr Barnes” to which she hung up the phone before he could say any more.

He ditched his almost empty coffee cup in the nearby bin and started walking back to the hospital, eager to see you again, even though it had only been a few hours since he dropped you off.

As Bucky approached the recovery suite, he had to admit to himself that he was getting a little anxious about how you’d be after the anaesthesia and all, but he was very excited to see you again.

He pressed the button on the door to gain access and the nurse who came to open the door asked who he was here to see. 

“I’m James Barnes, I’m here for Yn Yln” he informed her quietly.

“Oh yes, Mr Barnes, come through, she’s in bed 7.  She’s still quite groggy but that’s totally normal.  I’ll grab a chair for beside her bed so you can sit there.”

“Thank you ma’am.  I appreciate that” he replied.

Moving down the row of beds he rounded the curtain towards you and stood at the end of your bed.  The nurse approached and quietly placed the chair beside your bed.  Bucky gave her a quick nod and sat himself down, reaching for your hand.

At the feeling of his hand in yours, you stirred.  Unfocused eyes roaming around the room, landing on him and widening dramatically in reaction.

“Oh, hi” you said to him.

“Hi Yn, how are you feeling?”

“Umm, ok.. I think, I’m not sure my brain is working properly yet.”

“No, you’ve only just woken up, it will take a while before you’re completely with it again.  They said the surgery went well so that’s a bonus”

“Oh, yeah, but you might have to tell me again later” she slurred a little when speaking but, again, it was totally understandable.

You drifted off again for a few minutes, opening your eyes and looking around again.  You noticed a handsome man sitting at your bedside.

“Oh my god! You are gorgeous” you say to him.

Bucky looks around, not realising you are talking to him at first.  “Umm, ok, well thanks, I’m glad you think so” he replied to you.

“No, I mean look at you, you look like a god” you exclaimed.

“Well, again, thank you, umm…” he stammered, blushing.  He looked for your nurse who just smiled and nodded that this was another normal thing for some people.

“I mean damn boy” you began. “If I didn’t have a boyfriend, I’d wife you up so quickly”

Bucky laughed “Well, that’s a shame that you have a boyfriend because I’d love to wife you up”

“Oh no, you can’t say those kind of things to me, I have a boyfriend!” you whisper yell the last part at him.

“Yes, I know you do, you told me that.  But can’t we have something as well?” he chucked again to himself, enjoying this side of you.

“Hmmm, I don’t think so.  You see, my boyfriend is very tall and muscly and very, very strong and I’d hate to see him mess up your pretty face.” You sighed.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that now, would we” he smiled.

“Nurse” you raised your voice.  Seeing her round the end of the curtain you asked “Did you call my boyfriend.  Do you know when he’ll be here?”

“Yes, I called him, in fact, he’s here already” the nurse replied.

You turn to Bucky “Oh no, you better go, he’s gonna get real mad if he comes in here and sees you holding my hand like this.”

Bucky just chuckled, this was hilarious and he knew if Sam were here he’d be filming this but he didn’t want you to be embarrassed later on if anyone saw it other than the 2 of you.

���Don't laugh, I mean it” you start crying.

“Oh baby” he said, concerned. “What’s wrong, why are you crying?” he couldn’t bear to see you upset and wanted to be able to fix it for you.

“No, it’s just my boyfriend is here and you’re here and I love him so much but you’re just so beautiful and I don’t want him to punch your face off.”

“Babe” Bucky began.

“No, you can’t call me babe, that’s what he calls me” you cry even harder.

“Yn, listen to me.  I am your boyfriend.  I’m James.”

“My boyfriends name is Bucky, you can’t be him because he’s coming here and you’re already here.”

“Trust me, my love, I am Bucky, I am also James, I am also your boyfriend and I think after this I have no choice but to wife you up like you said you’d do to me” he leaned forward and kissed your lips lightly and tenderly.

“Oh dear, now you’ve kissed me and… Wait, did you say you are my boyfriend?  How did I get so lucky to land someone like you?”

“Yes sugar, I am and we have forever to work out how I was so lucky to land you, not the other way around.  Now you lay your head back and relax so we can get the rest of this anaesthesia out of your system and back to reality.”

[ghost-in-the-stalls]

I was going to put this in the tags but it's long enough and a direct response that I think I should just add it here.

Yes, to all of this, unironically and unhesitatingly.

For what it's worth for everything I'm about to say, I am a licensed social worker and am currently employed as a mental health clinician. But I have not done any research on this personally and don't have sources at the moment to back this theory up (im going to look into that today actually. I'm curious to see what I find.) This is just all speculation from a professional, so take that for what it's worth. I'll try to add some sources later when I'm not on mobile.

See I agree with what was stated up above about anxiety and depression. I also think its possible it could apply to diagnoses considered less "general," like adhd.

Example. I was recently diagnosed with adhd. The only reason I bothered to pursue the diagnosis was because it was impacting my ability to function throughout my day, and I wanted to try medication. (Personally, I think those are the only times you really should pursue a professional diagnosis, but that's a separate conversation...)

The most notable complaints I had about what I was experiencing were:

- struggling to focus on one task instead of bouncing around between everything on my to do list

- getting overwhelmed and paralyzed from the amount of thoughts and tasks that were in front of me

- struggling to stay on a task that requires my full focus (like reading) because I simply can't give that task my full attention

- conversely, going too long engaging in one task (usually a preferred relaxation task) and neglecting other parts of my life. This typically happens for me on weekends, when I'm trying to play video games instead of think about work.

There are other symptoms that I qualify with, like interrupting people (or struggling not to), being physically jittery and fidgety, being easily angered when certain things happen, etc.

For me, a lot of this ties back to - and was made most clear by - the amount of tasks I have to regularly engage in in my life, and my difficulty keeping up with it all and functioning effectively through it.

Now on one hand, the DSM V is written with a focus on symptoms that interfere with life functioning. And things that stop necessary tasks from being completed tend to fuck our lives up more than something that makes us a little too talkative or fidgety.

But also. And I will say this again and again and again.

A diagnosis is a tool and label. Not a law of the universe. Not a cause. It is a human attempt at categorization of known symptoms, with the intention of relating to effective treatments.

(And that^^^ is something you'll learn from any decent psych 101 class. Mine wasn't decent and I had to go a few classes beyond before we actually started framing it that way.)

With that in mind. Here's a question.

Is my adhd just innate within me, and something that would have been there, regardless of what my life looked like? Is it a specific way my brain deviates from the "norm," and something that, with the right technology and testing, could have been detected and diagnosed without my even noticing any symptoms? Something that exists in a vaccuum without touching my other diagnoses of anxiety and depression?

Or. Is it maybe just a quick and easy way of saying "this person cannot keep up with the stimuli in their life without becoming overwhelmed. And it is effecting their functioning to a notable degree"

That second option is a gross oversimplification, but I hope you take a second to sit with how much the first option sounds like eugenics. If the problem is innate within you, then if we just improve our technology enough to detect it in everyone who has it and separate them from the "norm," then we can weed out the problem, right? Okay, Elon.

How much of my adhd could be a culmination of the fact that I'm overwhelmed with stimuli 24/7 and have lost my ability to focus effectively because of it? How much of my clients' adhd could be a result of the same, possibly combined with the fact that many of them have experienced or are currently experiencing trauma? Which is known to impact ability to focus on tasks, as well as create a hyperactive body system?

This isn't to say adhd is a bogus diagnosis. The same way that the anxiety and depression we experience within our current world state is also not a bogus diagnosis. We're still experiencing it. We still fit the diagnostic criteria. And treatment still helps.

My point of all this is, yes to what's above. And also, maybe it would be good to reframe the ways we view diagnosis in general, to take it a step further, and to recognize the very clear and present causes of what a lot of people are experiencing nowadays. In my opinion, it goes beyond anxiety and depression.

(Also. For the people saying you'll go nuts if you aren't busy. Take a look at why that is. Is that a sustainable way of living? Are you comfortable just existing as yourself? Are you trying to distract yourself from something, or avoiding something uncomfortable? Have you possibly adapted well to the pressure of being constantly busy? Think about it from a different angle)

[kmt123whatsthetea]

Official Business

Fred Weasley x reader

Requested by: @mytrinityphelps

Request: “Office sex with coworker Fred Weasley (and him wearing glasses)”

A/N: Thank you for the request! I'm sorry it's taken so long to actually start and upload. But it never slipped my mind. This might just be my longest fic yet, so I hope it's actually enjoyable. I’m not gonna lie, I kinda forgot about the glasses request and I’m so sorry. I reread the request and went “mentioning glasses once might not cover it”. I’m sorry

T/W: Unprotected sex, Office banter, Blowjob, Nearly caught, Belly bulge,

What could you say about working as an Auror?

It was a decent job with decent pay, the hours were your casual 9 to 5 with weekends off.

Oh, and there was your coworker Fred. He wasn't the most serious guy, having left his job at a joke shop for better pay to keep his business up and running.

He was tolerable, unlike some of the other stuffy old workers who were seemingly glued to their desks. He was a little older than you with a ginger mop of hair and glasses that framed his deep brown eyes. He was friendly, always offering to bring you a morning tea and coffee personally instead of relying on the house elves. He even bought you a small owl ornament for your desk to commemorate your first year anniversary of working there.

Maybe you liked the flirty banter more. How during lunch breaks he’d comment about how you looked better than any dessert ever could, and that he looked forward to your smile more than any monthly wage slip. He really knew how to make your day brighter.

When he noticed the blush that spread across your cheeks in response to his teasing, he took a step up. Some of your favorite comments of his all shared a similar trait. They made you want to jump his bones. It was impossible not to when he spoke the stuff of wet dreams in that soft teasing tone.

“Your lipstick looks pretty, I wonder how it would look trailing down my chest”

“Looks like you’ve had a heavy workload today. Here I’d hoped you could take heavy loads, baby”

“You look tired, you’d sleep a lot better in my bed”

Oh, he was really trying to rile you up. And it was working like a charm.

Working overtime wasn’t rare in this line of work. Desk jobs always had their fair share of paperwork pile ups. Most workers left it till the next day or took it home to complete when possible. You only had a bit of work left and decided to stay to avoid the unnecessary task of homework.

One thing that caught you off guard was that Fred hadn’t said goodnight to you like he usually did before leaving. He did it every night. Was he angry at you? Had you said the wrong thing?

The thought stung a little, but you could always ask him about it the next morning.

Half an hour into your work was enough for a tea break. It wasn't procrastination if it counted as hydrating. Heading along the familiar hallway was second nature for you, but stopping dead was new. In the vast rows of desks, was a familiar ginger mop of hair. Was Fred Weasley staying late?

You made your way downstairs, an idea in mind.

Fred hated staying late. He hated this job. He had only taken it for some extra income towards the joke shop. He took the 9 to 5 job due to Georgie and Angelina expecting their first. At least if he was running the shop, he could be more lenient with trips to St Mungos. He still had a whole 3 hours worth of work to get through just to catch up. How people did this full time, he didn't know.

The approach of heels made him keep his head down, thinking it was some higher up reader to scold him for not taking the job seriously. But when a mug of coffee was placed before him, his head soon whipped up. There you were, like an angel in his time of need. You somehow looked perfect, like you weren't working overtime from an 8 hour shift. Instead of reaching for the mug handle, he reached for your hand in a tender grip.

“You’re a lifesaver, you know.

Your thumb trailed over his knuckles softly, a soft yet teasing smile on your face.

“I guess you owe me then”

That brought a smile to his face, giving your hand a tug causing you to fall onto his lap. You laughed softly, your hands finding his shoulders. This was his usual flirting to the max. But what was the harm in a bit of teasing?

“Give it your best shot, Weasley”

Knowing Fred in the capacity that you did, you should have known that he wouldn't take it as harmless teasing. He took it as a challenge.

His other hand found your cheek, pulling you closer to press his lips to yours in a kiss that seemed almost desperate. He let go of your wrist in favour of holding your waist to keep you steady on his lap. His lips pressed harder against yours, like a kiss along could merge your bodies. He wanted to be closer to you. He seemed confused when you got off of his lap, trying to hold onto you tighter, but his confusion turned into shock when you lowered yourself between his spread legs. He couldn't help his excitement as he practically ripped his belt off.

“You’re really gonna suck my dick? Sweetheart, you’re something else. Most girls would complain about ruining their lipstick, but you love being a dirty little office slut, don't you?”

He groaned when you pressed a kiss to his bulge in response before your hand took over, palming him teasingly. Your fingers tugged his zipper and fumbled with his button before his boxers came into view, and they were pulled down even quicker. Fred reached into his boxers, pulling his cock out. It stood tall before your face, his shaft veiny and girthy. The curtains definitely matched the drapes when it came to his pubes.

“Are you always this hard, Fred, or does a bit of kissing turn you on?”

He chuckled, his hand cupping your jaw to pull you closer.

“I'm always hard for you, I just don't show it as blatantly as you do. I knew how wet you got for me. I wonder if you ever played with yourself in the bathrooms thinking of me…or did you just finger yourself under your desk while I told you how pretty you looked every morning?”

That blush that filled your cheeks when he spoke, that's what he loved most about you. How that small tint of pink made you irresistible. How naturally it did.

His thumb caressed your blushing cheek, it was the result of him after all. Little did he know, it was all for him. You’d give all of yourself to him.

Your tongue gave his tip a gentle prod, reveling in his hiss at the touch. He sounded beautiful with every response, but those you drew from him were your favourite. Your lips wrapped around his tip, suckling softly. Fred stifled his moans, bringing his tie to his mouth and biting it to keep himself quiet from any other late workers. You looked up at him through your lashes, the sight making you wetter. Fred was leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed, his face nearly as red as his hair and his tie tucked between his lips while his cock throbbed for attention. He was like fine art.

Your lips returned to his cock, your cheeks hollowed as you tried to take him in your throat. His eyes bugged out when he felt your mouth take him deeper. But it was all cut short at the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway. Fred pulled the tie from his mouth and nudged you gently, his voice merely a hushed whisper.

“Sweetie, stop. Someone, fuck…someones coming”

His hands ushered towards the underside of his desk making sure you were tucked in before pulling his chair up and trapping you between his legs. The footsteps stopped by his desk, one of your colleagues commenting on how he was here late, making some joke about his allergy for work slowly being cured. Fred could only nod along, his mind still in panic mode from nearly being caught getting sucked off by a coworker. You, on the other hand, took delight in how the tables had turned. It was your turn to tease him.

You leaned your face closer to his cock, sliding your tongue along his shaft and tracing his veins. You could hear his groan which he quickly covered up with a coughing fit. You could hear the coworker checking on him and patting his back, but you didn't give him a reprieve. Your lips circled his tip, suckling gently. Your coworker ran off, something about getting some water for Fred. He pulled his chair back and helped you out from under the desk.

“Sweetheart, we don’t have time”

He pulls his shirt over his erection and drags you by the hand, along the hallway and to the small utility cupboard that housed quills and inks. He pushed you in first and followed you inside, muttering a few enchantments under his breath. He had to make sure no one would hear you two and most importantly, that no one would try and open the door.

His hands wrapped around your waist like a python, pulling you into him. You pulled your pencil skirt up, hooking your leg over his hip. You dropped your voice to a sultry whisper.

“Then you better not waste anymore time, Fred”

His hand slithered between your bodies, pulling up your pencil skirt and tugging your panties aside. He practically growled at how wet you were, his fingers soaked from that brief touch. He couldn't wait any longer. He lined his tip with your entrance and pulled your hips, sliding you down his cock. You let out a relieved moan, grateful for Fred’s enchantment. His cock was buried so snug inside of you, every clench around his thickness felt like he could break you.

You risked a glance down and the sight of his cock causing your belly to bulge made you whimper. Just the sight alone caused that band to tighten. Your hands gripped his shoulders, pressing needy kisses to his lips. Fred pulled his hips back and thrust back into you, wanting to be as deep inside of you as he could. He wondered what it would be like to cum inside of you, painting you deep inside, but he didn't want to push his luck. There was plenty of time, and there was no way he’d have that much fun in an office storeroom. If it took, that would be a terrible place to conceive.

He licked along your bottom lip, his pace never slowing.

“I'm close, sweetie. Cum on my cock, make a mess”

His hand moved back between you both, desperate fingers circling your clit in tight, quick circles. He could feel your grip on his shoulders tighten, your eyes rolling back in bliss as you clamped down on his cock. A pornographic moan ripped itself from your throat as your juices coated his shaft. You were so warm and tight, that he contemplated just throwing all care out the window but instead he groaned and pulled out, his hand wrapping around his dick and pumping fervently.

His cum painted your bunched up skirt, leaving a sticky stain on the grey fabric. You didn’t call him out on it in your blissed out state, only noticing when you slowly came down. Even then, it was just a skirt. It was worth it.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll buy you a new skirt if I have to. Maybe some pretty lingerie as well”

His signature smirk returned as he whispered in your ear.

“But then again, I’d prefer you naked”

[nobodysavemysoulitsperfectlyfine]

Incorrect Percy Jackson Quotes as things my friends and I have said except I literally forgot the context.

Percy Jackson: "No. I will eat him. Swallow him whole. Shove him down my gullet. You underestimate how much I need him seasoned, battered, baked or fried."

Annabeth Chase: "No, the stupidest thing I've ever heard is anything Jk Rowling ever said."

Jason Grace: (screaming at the top of his lungs) "WHO EVEN IS JEMIMAH THE CONQUEROR??"

Leo Valdez: (breaking out into song whenever the room is quiet)

Piper Mclean: (In front of literal police) "It's because I stole it."

Frank Zhang: (Standing in front of a very wealthy house in the middle of the poorest county in the state) "What? I'm not rich."

Hazel Levesque: (Relentlessly being bullied for looking like a horse girl)

Nico Di Angelo: "I know it's midnight and we don't live here, but I really want to go out in the woods right now."

Will Sollace: "How could there possibly be THIS many things wrong with you?? What the hell?"

Chris Rodriguez: (Spamming calls and texts) "HOW COME EVERY TIME I TAKE COUGH MEDICINE I HAVE VIVID NIGHTMARES OF BEING IN FUCKING LEAGUE OF LEGENDS. I DON'T WANT THEM."

Octavian: "No, I'm really manipulative. It's gotten to a point where I don't even notice, but you guys should keep that in mind."

Reyna Avila Ramirez Allerano: (Aiming nerf guns stolen from a group of rotten kids) "JUSTICE!!"

Dakota: (Taking a drink of literally anything carbonated and visibly twitching uncomfortably) "Ew." (Drinking again) "Ew. Disgusting." (Drinking it again)

Mr. D: "Would you please STOP MAKING BABIES IF YOU DON'T WANT TO RAISE THEM."

Lester Papadopoulos: "How is it that every time a thunderstorm rolls around I have a psychotic break? Like, I have a feeling that's not just anxiety."

Meg Mcaffery: "I always thought Unicorns would be fatter."

Luke Castellan: "Guys, do you think I have bad morals?" (everyone saying yes in unison)

Alex Fierro: (Only ever using hoe as a pronoun when talking about someone to their face)

Magnus Chase: (Being forced to eat an orange peel covered in salt after saying he was bored while other people watched and recorded him gag)

Austin Lake:(Playing Sailor Song every moment he gets the chance)

Rachel Dare: "You know there's a Greek word for that? That describes exactly what you are?"

Georgina: "Right Now my Mom's waiting outside for and I quote "Biker Bitch". It's like a fairy tale."

Rhea: "I genuinely, and wholeheartedly believe that MOST of the world's problems would be solved if all men got a decent pegging. Every world leader, politician, everyone." (Continues to debate this perfectly for twenty minutes)

Ethan Nakumara: "Guys do your parents have nemisisees?"

Litreysis: "My entire face hates me."

Blitzen: "By Peach do you mean fruit or ass?"

Hearth: (Signing slurs in public to his boyfriend while smiling kindly)

Commodus: (Harassing the guy dressed up as Santa by repeatedly smacking his fake stomach and calling his ass a bowl full of jelly)

Thomas Jefferson Junior: "You're only a whore mentally."

Mallory Keen: (Prank calling some poor woman and screaming random scottish as loud as possible)

Marcus: "I'm gonna boil one of them alive and make the other watch."

Samirah Al Abbas: (frowning in response to seeing her friend's scores on the empathy test)

Arrow of Dodona: "Probably cause I am in the woods. They thought I got lost."

Ella The Harpy: (Rewrighting Heather's as a Biden x Trump musical with other world leaders as the Heathers)

I'm tired maybe I'll do more tomorrow or never

[wrioreid]

| Valentine's Day | spencer reid x reader

You and Spencer have plans to celebrate your first Valentine's Day together.

Warnings: fluff, slight angst?, indefinite season, some references to the series, without a definite pronoun I think?, lots of rambling.

Author's note: Hello, happy Valentine's Day! The day is literally over, but I only managed to post now :c I really wanted to write something involving my pookie and rewatching some episodes I had some ideas to put in the fanfic. Sorry if any part was confusing or doesn't make sense, I swear I tried!! Anyway, I hope it's fun to read!

The simple drops of icy water that fell calmly from the tree branches contrasted completely with the warm feeling emanating from the couples walking around there. Couples, lovers, families, friends. The street was full of people who were overflowing with love for each other, and you watched them solemnly while leaning your back against the icy wall of some random store. Not even a morning of persistent rain and unpleasantly below-par temperatures could spoil the romantic atmosphere and prevent people from loving each other.

It was February 14th, Valentine's Day. Or rather, your first Valentine's Day with someone. It was late afternoon and the rain had stopped, leaving only small drops of water as a reminder. The temperature continued, but nothing that good layers of clothing and a warm love couldn't solve.

You were waiting for Spencer. You had started dating the previous year, after February, so this was the first time you would celebrate this day together. In fact, neither of them cared about the date. You could even hear his skeptical voice again, talking about how this celebration made no sense and that it stopped being a proof of unconditional love a long time ago. On the other hand, you had never cared about the date because you had never had someone special enough to show that you were still made of love. Now that you had someone, you wanted to make the date unique.

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a smile, remembering how Spencer looked when you answered him saying that you had the desire to experience the magic of the day at least once. Not shocked, not surprised, but hopeful. The “Me too” that he whispered uncertainly like a secret being eternally kept in your mind. After that day, you started planning how you would spend the celebration, the millions of colored papers full of ideas - and dreams - scattered on the floor of his house being a warm memory in your mind.

But even though the plans were set a few good weeks ago, you - and neither he - could control your nervousness when today finally arrived. Even when you were walking together a few hours ago - him accompanying you to your house as he always did at least once a week - you couldn't hold a decent conversation. There was barely a goodbye, just you running inside the house to get ready and him running to his house to do the same. Now there you were, playing with a small puddle of water in front of you with the boot you had specially chosen while you waited for Spencer to arrive.

It wasn't like him to be late at all, and it was starting to get difficult to control your anxiety. Maybe he gave up. Maybe he realized it was something silly and irrational to celebrate. There were millions of thoughts battling against the small memory of the genuine smile he let out every time he read the post-its with the ideas for the long-awaited day.

Despite his confession when the subject came up, you had never actually talked about Valentine's Day before, much less if he had ever celebrated it. You knew that Spencer had already been in relationships with a few other people before, but you deduced that he had never celebrated the day, probably because he let reason take over, as always. However, deep down, you couldn't help but think that it was because he never allowed himself to celebrate, the idea that he was incapable of being loved rooted in his mind.

You felt pain in your heart, almost like a heart attack, when your relationship grew deeper and you would notice with each encounter these small - big - scratches that he had on his soul. Someone who would like to be seen as normal, to be perceived as someone capable of loving and being loved.

So, you take a deep breath and let the bad thoughts go away. Deep down, this is also his wish, and you accept this fact. You push yourself away from the wall, determined to find a better and more visible spot to make it easier for him. However, you didn't count on finding him standing in front of you when you stopped looking at the floor. And damn, he looked stunning.

His soft and tidy hair, his untidy white t-shirt, the wine-colored cardigan on top showing off his crooked black tie, his slightly wrinkled dress pants quickly revealing the pair of mismatched socks. All of this being soaked up by the dark gray overcoat and the purple scarf. There was literally nothing different about his style, but at the same time there was everything. Maybe it wasn't anything different physically, but whatever it was, was enough to make the thoughts that tormented you before seem like nothing more than a small fraction of an unknown nightmare now.

Spencer clears his throat, trying to bring your attention back to the real world. You can't tell if he's blushing because of the cold or because he's been stared at so intensely, but either way, it's cute. "Sorry I'm late," he says quietly, even though no one else can hear.

"It's okay, we'll still be a few minutes early." You smile playfully and awkwardly stand next to him, ready to go to the first attraction of the day. After millions of desires were buried by a job that took up too much of your time, the final decision was a traditional Valentine's Day schedule so that you could enjoy all the romantic experiences that couples usually have - as much as possible. The first stop would be at a small local theater to watch Romeo and Juliet. Afterwards, you would enjoy a beautiful romantic dinner at a special place, and by that you mean that you would have dinner at Spencer's house. And then, he would walk you home. It sounds simple, but it was more than perfect.

Despite your movement, Reid doesn't move. He looks at you with a tight-lipped smile as he unrolls a black and white fabric from his messenger bag. You hadn't realized it was there and before you know it, he's lovingly wrapping the scarf around your neck.

"I knew you'd forget," he whispers, smiling like a child who's been naughty. You use the scarf as a shield to hide your flushed cheeks, starting to walk quickly after whispering a thank you. The smell of freshly washed clothes with a hint of fresh vanilla is the only thing you can smell now, intoxicating you like a drink.

However, it's not enough to make you not notice the awkward silence between you. You've known each other for a long time and talk a lot, but the idea of ​​something new, a unique - and secret, in a way - celebration between the two of you was too much for both. You snuggle even closer into the scarf and slide your hand closer to his, your pinkies touching. You notice him looking at you from the corner of his eye, a look full of secrets for the others, but not for you. Calmly, he intertwines his fingers with yours, you now walking hand in hand and both of you smiling foolishly behind the scarf.

The play's performance was interesting, but it was hard to concentrate on it while Spencer made several dissatisfied expressions beside you. "It's almost revolting how a play about young love, family rivalry and lack of communication turned into a mere sad story about love at first sight. And I haven't even talked about the imaginary balcony yet!" It was the last thing he said after you left the theater and started walking towards his apartment, distractedly engaging in other matters.

“You can’t deny it, Spence,” you laugh out loud, smiling at his pouting face. “Love moves worlds!”

“It changes realities, that’s what it does,” he mutters, looking irritated, but a playful smile plays on his lips. “A tribute to a bishop who went against an emperor turned into a celebration of love with an exchange of gifts and declarations just because they decided to combine love and romance! And it makes much more sense for the celebration to exist because this is the first day of mating for birds. It’s the order of life!”

“Of course, it makes much more sense for men to leave love messages on their loved ones’ doors because the birds are procreating,” you giggle. “I think I’m talking to the reincarnation of Claudius II and I didn’t know it.” You joke, having even more fun when you notice Spencer pondering his words for a few moments, a furrow forming between his eyebrows.

“Technically, men who have nothing to lose are better at war than those who have love,” he pauses, now speaking again with a mischievous smile, “For example, I worked much better before I met you.”

You stop walking, shock written all over your face as you stare at him in disbelief. Spencer laughs, stretching one of his hands to intertwine them. He gently kisses the top of your hand. “Contrary to statistics and facts, I have been working better since we met and you know that very well,” he whispers, still with your hand close to his mouth, his lips brushing against your skin with each movement. You turn your face away, still angry, but taking the opportunity to control the immense urge to kiss him.

However, the whole act ends when you feel something different in your hand - the same one he was holding until just now. You turn your head quickly only to notice the beautiful red rose that magically rested in your hand, its scent so present that even from that distance you could smell it. Paralyzed, you stare at Spencer, mouth open, not knowing what to do. He stares back at you with a smile from ear to ear, his nose red from the cold.

“As someone told me the other day,” he says calmly and amusedly, “It’s worth ignoring the hype, the advertising and the high prices for someone special.”

You can barely react. Twirling the rose between your thumb and index finger, the only thing you can do is control the tears that are welling up in your eyes. It’s the first time you’ve received a flower so full of feelings from someone. A single, simple flower, but it was worth more than an entire field. Spencer calmly waits for you to recover, tenderness sparkling in his eyes.

“You’re an idiot,” you manage to whisper, hugging the flower gently so as not to ruin it or hurt yourself, despite your clothes. “H-How? Since when?”

He shrugs, reaching for your hand again and intertwining it with his, putting both in the pocket of his overcoat as he walks on again. “A magician doesn’t reveal his secrets… and he always has tricks up his sleeve.” He lets a sentence hang in the air, more mysterious than it should be. You stare at him, waiting for him to continue, but you only get a pat on the hand.

The rest of the way was calm and quiet, but comfortable enough for you to process everything, your eyes never leaving the delicate flower resting on your chest. When you arrive at the apartment, you can't help but notice how much - more than ever - this place made you feel like home.

A small smile escapes your lips as Spencer offers to help you remove and put away your coat and scarf. He removes his own scarf and coat as well and offers to put your rose in a container of water so it doesn't die. You hand it to him and as he disappears into the kitchen, you wander through the rows and rows of books, stopping when you notice that the chess pieces were not on the usual table, the moonlight coming through the window and illuminating only the chess board.

"I couldn't think of a better place," you hear Spencer say before looking in your direction, noticing the beautiful vase with several roses that he held in one hand and the tablecloth that he held in the other. He lovingly hands you the jar, smiling softly “I tried to put them all in my bag, but it was a bad idea, so they were waiting for you” he laughs embarrassedly as he arranges the tablecloth on the table.

You smile from ear to ear, enchanted by the beauty of the flowers, and place the vase in the center of the table so you can help him set up the rest of the romantic dinner. When everything was finished, you stop for a few moments to appreciate it and can't help but smile when your gaze lingers between the two chairs. As your relationship with Spencer deepened, a second chair began to appear frequently at the chess table, a sweet reminder of all the times you played there - and that, now, was even part of the scenery in his apartment -.

You sit there, smiling amusedly when Spencer reappears with a lit candle in his hand. "Waiter, please" you joke. He looks at you with arched eyebrows, carefully placing the candle next to the flowers. "On average, more than 7,000 candle fires happen here in the country each year".

You laugh nasally, fascinated by the moment "Thank you, Spence… I don't even know what to say. Everything is so… right, so romantic".

“It’s the least I could do and… I actually wish I had cooked, but time…” he scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed.

“It’s perfect, seriously. Next time we’ll cook together and you’ll see my culinary skills,” you say, making a silly smile appear on his face as he nods positively.

You eat and talk calmly for a long time, enjoying each other’s company. When darkness already dominates the streets, you realize it’s time to end the night. After helping Spencer put things back in their proper places, you pause in the middle of the room on your way out, pondering what to do. It was still Valentine’s Day and you hadn’t kissed.

However, in these last moments, Spencer seemed more spaced out and lost in his own thoughts, probably overwhelmed by the emotions of the day. You feel bad for a moment, wondering if you hadn’t forced it too much with him. So, you choose to quickly grab your flowers and your coat, your little goodbye speech already on the tip of your tongue.

“Wait,” Spencer, who was standing there watching you get ready, spoke hurriedly and, after making sure you weren’t leaving yet, disappeared into his room, returning moments later hugging an object to his chest. He walked until he was close to you, but never stopped looking at what he had in his arms. Looking closely now, you noticed that it was a somewhat old book, with some obvious marks on the cover and spine.

Spencer opened and closed his mouth several times, but unable to say anything, he just handed the book to you. Parlement of Foules was printed in large letters.

“T-This is considered the first Valentine’s Day poem,” he said uncertainly, his tone lower than normal, as if he wasn’t talking to you. “For this was on St. Valentine’s Day, when every fowl comes there his mate to take… is a 700-line poem that follows the tradition of dream vision poetry, a medieval literary style, and Chaucer uses it to discuss romantic love and freedom of choice… my mother read it to me when I was a child” he finishes in a whisper so low that you doubt if you heard it right. You press the book against your fingers, understanding the weight that it implied.

Spencer bites his lip, but resumes speaking, now with a more confident tone “It was a poem that stuck in my memory, more than any other and… given today’s date I would like it… to become important to you too. It’s the second copy my mother had in case something happened to the first one… but nothing ever happened and well… one copy is enough for me” he smiles embarrassedly, scratching the back of his neck “I-I left some notes throughout the book, too, so you would always feel accompanied while reading and… well, know my opinions about it”

“Couldn’t you read it to me too?” The question escapes your lips, your eyes glazed over the book as you caress the cover with interest.

Spencer is taken aback by the question, but a small smile plays on his lips. “I could too, of course” he paused again, now looking at you expectantly “There’s one more thing in there…”

You press your lips together and stare at him. Passion, surprise, affection… you felt so many things in that moment that not even the cold wind outside could cool the warmth that permeates your heart. You delicately open the book, noticing a writing on the title page. It was in pencil, and the marks from previous attempts were still there as if they were telling you a secret, but they didn’t get in the way of reading the large, hurried letters.

You can only teach a child to love by loving them. Johann Goethe, From your Spencer

A small drop falls onto the page, briefly staining the paper. You then realize that tears are streaming down your face, even though a tender smile has not left your lips. Spencer comes even closer, taking the book from your hand so he can hold it in his. With his other hand, he slowly passes it over your face, wiping away the small drops that insisted on running down.

“The whole discussion of the poem revolves around love… whether people are destined to be together or whether they have the right to choose, whether by passion, affinity or social conventions.” He speaks delicately, never taking his eyes off you. “Love is everyone’s final destiny, but it is a complex, free and uncertain process that, honestly, is still the action of hormones and neurotransmitters…” He bites his lips, quickly looking away to look at you again, determined. “But even so, even though it is not destiny… I firmly believe and I am more than happy to know that I made all the correct choices that led us to meeting.”

Honestly, fuck it. You put your hands around his face, cradling him, and bring him closer to you. Your lips touch gently, and you can't focus on anything else. Spencer timidly holds your waist, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss. Delicately, he starts to run his hands over your body as if he were appreciating a work of art until he reaches your face, where he caresses the side of your cheek with one hand and pulls you even closer with the other - if that's possible -. You separate from the kiss panting, but remain close, your foreheads touching. Spencer calmly places a tender kiss on your nose, then your forehead and, finally, on the top of your head, enjoying every second.

When you look at each other again, the only thing you can whisper are several "Thank yous". He smiles lovingly, still caressing your face.

“I don’t even know how to thank you, Spence,” you whisper. “You gave me so much today, with so much love, so much dedication… and I only gave you a meager little letter with messages that you surely already knew… I really don’t know how to repay you.”

His smile widens and when he answers, you feel like you’ve finally found your place. “Nothing could surpass the happiness your letter brought me, love, there’s nothing you can repay. However, it would make me even happier if you slept here…”

Author's note 2: Hello there! If you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading! I'm also on c.ai with the same user @/wrioreid, but the process of making the bots is going veryyy slowly.

[sleeping-satan]

The issue I have with AI art is the use of other artworks to fuel it without credit to the other artists and the negative impact on the environment caused by the systems used. That and, of course, the loss of jobs to make cheaper art that's often subpar and doesn't give compensation to artists the AI was trained on (specifically when can be a few changes to another image, coloring in stolen lineart, other things that would count as copyright infringement or plagiarism when humans do it without AI). Same thing with the point of editing you made, it has to cross a decent threshold before you can call the art yours (unless if it's parody, that's under different standards).

But I agree that the witchhunting is bullshit. I think the lookout for AI art should be more for companies, with a requirement of transparency implemented with their creations, than it is individual artists because it does significant harm to individual creators.

As someone who does art, a lot of the hate comes from the want for artists work to be appreciated as work. That the skill doesn't come naturally, is one that many can build up, and that we want people to try it and find joy in creating things. But clearly the way to push that is to show the accessibility options for art and to talk about it, not harassing creators.

Being an artist on Twitter is unsustainable because a quote retweet accusing an artist of using AI will get more likes per view than the actual art.

[princessrazzledazzle]

What Twst Wonderland Characters Would Do For Valentine’s Day

Riddle: Never really celebrated Valentine’s day back home because of his mom, but always dreamed of it. At NRC, he throws a extra special unbirthday party with pink and red hearts everywhere. He also makes sure to be nicer and less strict, he even gives his dormmates little cards, and personalized ones for his closer friends.

Trey: Always loved Valentine’s day because of all the cute pastries he and his family would make. At NRC, he does the exact same, baking for the unbirthday party and some special treats for his close friends.

Cater: Posts things like “Who tryna be my valentine” on magicam while trying to look as cute as possible he never gets a valentine . He wears only red and pink whenever he’s not in uniform and he’ll give out little cards to people he likes.

Ace: Always thought the holiday was pointless and corny, but loves free candy, so he never complained…well he does complain about the cringey couples and make fun of them. He’d give one of those heart shaped lollipops to his friends.

Deuce: Only really likes the holiday for the candy, makes sure to at least write his mom a card, even if he has to send it by mail. He also gives little cards to his friends with heart shaped lollipops.

Leona: Couldn’t care less about Valentine’s day. He’ll eat a couple candies and a few cookies, but that’s it.

Ruggie: Also couldn’t care less about Valentine’s day, but always makes sure to get his grandma something, always a handwritten card and some flowers.

Jack: Pretends not to care about the holiday, but always get something for his family and close friends, then denies the fact he actually likes Valentine’s day.

Azul: Used to hate it when he was younger because he would be the only person not to get a valentine, but after he met Floyd and Jade, they do something special together every year I might talk about that later Ever since he started running the Monstro Lounge, he puts all sorts of Valentine’s day specials and deals on the menu.

Jade: Doesn’t really care for it, only celebrates it with his brother and Azul because he secretly doesn’t want to see Azul all sad and lonely ever again. Always plans out what they’ll do for the holiday.

Floyd: Actually loves Valentine’s day for all the wrong reasons. He’s the type of person to tell couples to switch their phones. He also loves all the heart shaped treats, always having liked festive foods. Always makes sure Azul is having a blast doing whatever it is they’re doing with Jade. In charge of decorating the Monstro Lounge and does a pretty decent job.

Kalim: LOVES Valentine’s day. Goes all out, giving cards to any person who just so happens to make eye contact with him. Makes special cards for his dormmates and friends. Dresses in only red, pink, and white the whole day.

Jamil: Doesn’t like the holiday, never really celebrated it unless you count Kalim forcing him to dress up with him a form of celebration.

Vil: Enjoys the holiday. Does yearly Valentine’s day posts on magicam and also only dresses in red, pink, and white and makes the entirety of Pomefiore to do the same. Gives expensive gifts to those he cares about, though some of his presents are passive aggressive.

Rook: Probably one of his favorite times of the year. Thinks of it as a celebration of all kinds of love, platonic to romantic. Literally only speaks in poetry the entire day and will give handwritten poems to people he likes to stalk.

Epel: Hates it. Thinks the holiday is for girls and refuses to participate…except for some cards and cookies for his grandparents.

Idia: Never really celebrates it unless you call playing otome games all day as a celebration. Occasionally he’ll look at his surveillance cameras and make fun of the cringey couples, then gets sad because no one has ever loved him like that. Gets something for Ortho that he’ll like.

Ortho: Finds the holiday cute and enjoyable. Gives little cards and candies to his friends and a special present for Idia.

Malleus: Doesn’t celebrate the holiday in Briar valley, but finds it interesting that there’s a day dedicated to all different types of love. Wants to make it a official holiday in Briar Valley when he becomes king.

Lilia: Also didn’t celebrate Valentine’s day, but finds the couples both amusing and oddly adorable. Gets something for Malleus, Silver, and Sebek.

Silver: Only knew about Valentine’s day because of the story books Lilia would read to him. Finds it interesting and hopes to have a romantic partner one day.

Sebek: Does care for the holiday and also only knew of its existence through story books. At NRC sure to get something very extra and unnecessary for Malleus, so the whole school can see how loved his Waka Sama is and how he is his best knight.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

I have been thinking about Feast recently and it got me thinking about the kids that are studying at the temple and how fucked up it is that they're brought back 186 years later

Considering that Fu was forced into guardianship and had to leave his family behind we can assume the same thing goes for the other kids as well, which makes the situation even worst

Because imagine you're around young Fu's age, they force you into guarding a box with magical jewelries that you didn't asked for and aren't interested in, doesn't help that the training is a nightmare, suddenly a giant blue frog shows up and swallows you whole alongside other people and you're now dead, and when you thought things couldn't get any worst you're miraculously (no pun intended) brought back to life and you realize you skipped almost two decades into the future, meaning you can't come back to your family since I highly doubt they're alive for so many years, you can't go back to your home either because again highly doubt it exists anymore, so you're now an orphan just like the other kids and you're forever stuck in that guardian temple

One thing for sure everybody want Fu dead after this

The guardian lore is one of the many elements of canon that feels incredibly underdeveloped. Heck, I'm not even wild about the idea that a sentimonster's damage can be perfectly undone over a hundred years later. The implications are really weird. Like, if I'm dying from cancer, can I make a sentimonster and have it kill me so that a future Ladybug can undo that move and I wake up when cancer has been cured? Based on Feast, I think the answer is yes! It's super weird. ~180 years have passed. The guardians should have been dead, cure or no cure.

Having Fu be an unwilling child guardian would have been a solid choice if the goal was to have a discussion about Marinette also being an unwilling child guardian. It's a decent analogy for generational trauma. It could even be used as a discussion on child soldiers! But canon isn't doing any of that, so Fu being an unwilling child guardian just feels sad and weird. Why add that element if you're not going to do anything with it? It's up there with implying that teenagers aren't supposed to be Chosen like they did in Furious Fu:

Su-Han:(interrupts, shouting) When the lion speaks the cub listens! First off you two are going to hand over your Miraculous to me. Cat Noir: What, that's a bad joke. (smiles with Ladybug) And I know all about bad jokes. Ladybug: We can't do that! How are we going to defeat Shadow Moth without our Miraculous? Su-Han: I will reassign then to carefully selected, appropriate adult holders. Like any rightful responsible Guardian would do.

You should never acknowledge that teenagers are a questionable choice for heroes in your show about teenage heroes unless you're going to give that statement actual weight and discuss how messed up this would be in the real world. Canon doesn't do this, so this was a terrible thing to include. This isn't breaking the fourth wall for a joke. It's the writers trying to engage with bad-faith criticism to which there is no good counterargument other than, "this is the show's premise. If your suspension of disbelief doesn't allow you to enjoy that premise, then this isn't the show for you." Don't remind the viewers who are happy to play along that the show is asking them to use their suspension of disbelief. That is a great way to break their suspension of disbelief!

All of this is why my stance is that the guardian order was a bad call. It's just way too complicated an element to introduce if you're not going to do anything interesting with it. Su Han could have easily just been the guardian of a different miracle box who comes to train Marinette when Fu is lost. He could have even been some sort of master guardian who only has one kwami of his own and no box because he oversees all the different sub boxes. Anything is better than introducing a whole temple of guardians and then only having one guy show up to help, especially when he doesn't actually do anything to help! At least give the heroes a new power up!

[jackoshadows]

Thinking more about this post made me come to a realization about what I will call the Jonsa conundrum.

I have come across this point frequently that anyone writing about or enjoying Sansa's canon relationships in the books does so because they need Sansa to be humbled or hate the character of Sansa herself.

Which is a really weird thing to say considering that people engage in fandom shipping because they really enjoy or love the character and are exploring these characters in fictional relationship tropes they enjoy. From what I have seen it's hardcore Sansa fans who are shipping SanSan.

It's also interesting because the person who has written all these relationships - positive or negative - with Tyrion and Sandor in the books is GRRM. So are these stans implying that GRRM himself hates the character of Sansa and wrote 5 books focusing on these relationships because he needs Sansa to be humbled?

And then there are posts like these:

If Sansa stans are shipping Jon and Sansa because all her other ships are abusive and she is being taken advantage of then why not Sansa and Sam? Why is that not a popular ship? There's as much basis, even more, for Sam and Sansa as a ship in the books than Jon and Sansa.

At the end of the day both are crackships, so if one has to go for a 'wholesome shipping experience' then why not Sam whose canon character does not even have to be twisted and mangled and changed to suit Sansa's sensibilities.

Sam is a genuinely sweet and nice guy who dislikes violence and actually respects and likes girls similar to Sansa unlike Jon Snow and they could even bond over their love for songs and music. Sam and Sansa have more in common than Jon and Sansa. And for folks complaining about incest, Sam and Sansa is incest free!

Even GRRM wants to know why there are not more folks shipping Sansa and Sam whom he describes as kind, smart, decent and devoted. Everything Sansa wants in a partner!

Here is the author himself going - 'Sandor is not a nice guy, why not ship Sansa with someone nice like Samwell Tarly!' - basically the answer to folks complaining about Sansa's canon ships being abusive and who want a wholesome ship for Sansa.

Like it or hate it, Sandor/Sansa or SanSan is an actual canonical relationship! The author has acknowledged it as such, he has outright stated that he has 'played with it' and even has SanSan fanart hanging on his house walls!

Similarly Sansa is married to Tyrion! That is a canon relationship. By the end of ASoS and in AFfC Sansa starts thinking more kindly of Tyrion and even considers him an option of where she can flee to if only he was still alive.

Littlefinger is clearly attracted to this younger Catelyn clone and is grooming her for his own evil purposes. So it makes sense that there are some fans who are into this sort of trope who are playing around with this ship as well.

Then there is Harry the Heir whom Sansa is plotting to marry and is openly flirting with in TWoW. That's another written relationship for Sansa in the books, so I can see why folks would ship that as well.

Then there's Sansa dreaming of or hoping to marry the Tyrell boys, Loras and Willas. Again, makes sense for shippers to play around with those ships.

So when folks ship SanSan or Sanrion or Sansa/Baelish or Sansa/Willas they are only going by the relationships - positive or negative - that Sansa has in the books and that the author has written for the character in the books. This is not Sansa hate.

There is no such relationship in the books between Jon Snow and Sansa Stark. This is why most sensible book readers treat it as the crackship it is. Even Sansa/Margaery and Jon/Sam make more sense as ships than Jon/Sansa because those characters have relationships with more emotional weight and actual page time devoted to it than Jon and Sansa.

Which brings me to the Jonsa conundrum. An oft repeated justification for Jonsa is that it's the only ship where "Sansa is not getting abused or taken advantage in any way". And therefore anyone who opposes this ship does so only because they hate Sansa. (Jon Snow and the character's likes, desires and wants are not even a consideration in this argument)

One main reason for why Jonsa is the only ship where Sansa is not getting abused or taken advantage of is because it exists only in fanfiction written by Sansa stans who center all their stories, headcanon and fanon around Sansa.

Jon and Sansa have nil on page interaction and rarely think of each other. Naturally there is not going to be any abuse! Stans insert whatever headcanons they want into their 'metas' and present it as canon, while straight up creating the dynamic between these two characters as some kind of Disney fairy tale relationship.

They hyper-inflate the one time Jon and Sansa mention each other while ignoring the many times Jon and his other siblings think of each other. They take away from Jon's other siblings and then pretend like they don't understand why fans of other characters don't like this ship.

They frame Sansa's classist prejudice against Jon Snow as being adorable and cute and praise Sansa for following the rules and being honest in treating a bastard like a bastard.

They twist and deliberately misrepresent Jon's reason for refusing Stannis' offer of Winterfell as being about Sansa. They downplay Jon's canon relationship with Arya by making even that to be all about Sansa.

Secondly and more importantly, why is it that they see Jon Snow as the only character who would not abuse or take advantage of Sansa?

What is different about Jon Snow compared to the male characters who fall for Sansa or who Sansa falls in love with canonically?

What is different between Jon Snow Vs Waymar Royce, Joffrey Baratheon, Sandor Clegane, Tyrion Lannister, Littlefinger, Loras Tyrell, Willas Tyrell, Harry the Heir etc.

Jon Snow is refreshing and unique in the world of Westeros because he often goes against the grain and admires girls who defy Westerosi patriarchal ideals and proactively do their own thing, make their own decisions and are in charge of their own destiny. He is a rule breaker and admires fellow rule breakers, something that is consistent over 5 books, from his bond with Arya to his arc with the Freefolk and now as Lord Commander bringing reform and change to the Night's Watch.

Jon Snow himself uses violence as a tool to achieve his goals. He has killed people, has executed people. He would be a hypocrite if he looked down on women who did the same.

Jon loves the 'violent' girlies. He admires the little freefolk girls wanting to be spearvives. He arms an entire fortress with spearwives (Hardin's tower) and puts one of them - Morna White Mask- in charge of a castle called Queensgate. That's right, Jon Snow put a female warrior in charge of Queensgate - so named after a Targaryen queen Alysanne.

He helps Sam and Satin because they are attacked for being gender non conforming. He supports Giant rights by standing up for and building a relationship with Wun Weg Wun Dar Wun.

Jon loves the pro-active girlies. He admires Alys Karstark for getting herself away from her enemies, riding through the harshest of Winters and getting to the Wall. He compares her to Arya and calls her brave.

Being othered himself, Jon can understand and empathize with Arya who gets a lot of flack from Sansa, her mother and the Septa for non conforming to Westerosi patriarchal ideals. This right here is the major difference between Jon and Sansa. Jon is against oppressive patriarchal ideals while Sansa actively upholds them despite being a victim of that very patriarchy.

There is less probability for a character who actively works against ingrained patriarchal rules and regulations of Westeros to abuse women. They are not going to see women as lesser beings, they are not here for forced marriage, they are not going to take out their trauma on the less advantaged of society. We see this in Jon planning on sending Arya to Braavos to avoid her being used as a pawn in the game of thrones. Or telling Selyse and Stannis that Val is free to choose her husband.

Ned/Cat is held up as the ideal relationship when even there Ned literally frightens Cat into not asking anymore questions about Jon and the specter of marital misery meant Cat ended up emotionally abusing a child instead of blaming the man responsible.

Where, even Ned failed to understand his sister Lyanna or daughter Arya and the only ending he wanted/wants for them is get married for a political alliance and have babies. Lyanna couldn't even confide in Ned because he never understood where she was coming from.

And that's the difference between Jon and like 90% of the male characters in the series. Because anyone blindly adhering to Westerosi patriarchal ideals and prejudices would be more prone to putting women into specific boxes and stepping out of those boundaries can lead to abuse.

However the problem for Jonsa shippers is that this book Jon Snow would also fall for the breaker of chains Daenerys Targaryen, another rule breaker and reformist. A true, wholesome, age appropriate, like minded power couple.

This is a problem for Jonsa shippers because they want a character who is out there befriending and supporting the underdogs, the dregs of society and who shows open contempt and disdain for Westerosi bigotry to fall in love with one of the most pro status quo characters, a poster child for Westerosi patriarchy.

This is a condundrum. How to deal with it? By mutilating and mangling the character of Jon Snow into an unrecognizable OC and making up all sorts of fanon that is repeated so often that most non book readers probably think this is true in the books.

Like the fanon about how Jon Snow hates violence and women who engage in violence. Or how Jon 'keeps dreaming of life in Winterfell with a traditional lady love' when in the books he just once imagines this with Val. Or how for Jon Snow his version of an ideal women is Sansa. Or how beauty is the most important factor in whom Jon Snow falls for.

And then of course, Jon's personality and actions make him attractive and he's got a direwolf and sword and possible chosen one hints in the narrative. And he is a main POV character that would prop up Sansa as the Song of Ice and Fire and the main character the series revolves around. And he's got a sword and can enact violence on other female characters like Daenerys.

Because as much as they pretend to espouse pacifism, these shippers want only Sansa to keep her hands clean while Jon and Arya kill all her enemies for her including inflicting violent abuse on other female characters.

Because if they actually espoused pacifism and just wanted a nice guy who hates violence and wouldn't abuse or take advantage of Sansa, there is always Samwell Tarly as I mentioned above.

Honestly, one of the worst aspects of Jonsa is that one of the rare, few male characters who stands out as being against the patriarchy in the books is then shoved into the same box as the 99% of the other male characters in the series.

If one wants Sansa to end up with someone who loves the traditional girlies there are plenty of other characters in the series. Hell, there are actual parallels between Sansa and Theon Greyjoy and yet for obvious reasons Sansa stans would rather make up these fake parallels between Jon and Sansa instead.

They want Jon for Sansa because he is hot and respects women. However they have to then change Jon's entire personality to have him fall for Sansa. In which he is no different to any other male character who follow ingrained Westerosi ideals, and in which case he would be just as prone to abuse just like the other male characters.

Jonsa stans seem not to understand that what makes Jon Snow more open to women's rights is his being against the traditional rules and status quo of Westeros, having been at the receiving end of those rules himself. And Sansa Stark, as written in the books, is the very opposite of that. She hates if girls don't wear dresses, she gives importance to class and titles, she thinks everyone should behave according to their place in society as outlined by outdated dogma, The very dogma, that Jon Snow is tearing down in his attempts to reform the Wall.

And that's the Jonsa conundrum.

[lockandkeyblade]

A Little Self-Insert Never Hurt Anybody

That's what Danny tells himself, anyway. It's just, he wasn't expecting the new universe he'd decided to hide in to know about him, and they sort of don't.

But they sort of do, because Danny Phantom is a cartoon about his life that somehow manages to become more and more inaccurate the longer the show went on.

He's really glad it stopped on season 3. He's not sure he could've handled another season 3.

The thing is though, Danny's a 2000's kid himself. He knows that if exists, there's porn of it. So he googles himself and finds a few fan sites, finds the fanfiction, finds a couple people tossing around a few ideas of what ghost society might really be like, and...

It has a decent amount of fans (or Phandom, as they call themselves, and isn't that just embarrassing but also Super Flattering). He's not going to comment on some of the ships (he will never get pearls in his boba tea again, pitch or otherwise) but the thing is, a lot of fans just seem to be really interested in what the show doesn't give them. Not just about his struggles, but the ghosts. What they might really be like, what they might really want.

He shouldn't, but-- hey. There's no GIW here. There's no one who believes this stuff is actually real. And he misses home; misses the Infinite Realms, even if he's not quite ready to go back yet.

So he makes a tumblr, and starts writing. Talking, really. About ghosts and Obsessions, about the rules of engagement and how you never, ever ask a ghost how they died.

His follower count slowly grows, and people start to realize that IceStar14 is one of those people who will answer anything. He very carefully navigates the mindfield that is shipping by telling people to "do what they want"; he can't really stop them, nor does he have the mind to. Despite this, his posts quickly become several thousand word back and forths with mutuals who might not get everything right, but are intuitive enough to get the basics.

It's delightful. It's kind of crazy. Danny can't help but feel...understood, by other, living people, for the first time ever. By people who aren't Jazz, or Sam, or Tuck.

Which is really the only reason why he starts answering the more invasive asks, the ones that are far more personal than people probably expect them to be. He goes from just talking about ghosts to talking about his life, the struggles of learning his powers, the stress of living a double life.

The fallout when his parents discover his halfa status, the-- the things they did to him afterwards. He never brings up the idea of a multiverse, or how he could've gone to hide in one. Somehow, the fanfiction writers figure that out all on their own.

They give him new families and people who understand him, constantly writing stories about him meeting the Justice League, or the BatFam, and--

It's the closest thing he's ever gotten to therapy. It hurts, but people love him. Or, they love the crazy little fantheorist, and they adore Danny Fenton/Phantom. The idea of him being hurt spawns a slew of hurt/comfort content that he genuinely spends hours curled up with, on the good days. Even on the bad.

No one has to know they made him cry. No one has to know how grateful he is, that people think he deserves better. People think he deserves better. Maybe he starts to take care of himself a little more, thanks to that. Maybe sleep comes a little easier, because he doesn't have to lay in bed and try to tell himself he's loved; he can just pick up his phone and scroll a few key tags, and it's right there, on the screen. People love him. People accept him.

It's pretty great.

Slowly but surely, the posts explode. He goes to sleep one night with a couple hundred followers and wakes up the next to several thousands. It's pretty easy to find out why.

Red Robin reblogged a few of his "stories". Nightwing quickly liked a bunch of them. In fact, a good majority of the superhero community that has an online presence has made at least one comment about Danny Phantom. He has no idea how they found him, frantically searching the tags until he finds one that makes his throat go dry.

"If Phantom was real, he'd be a Robin." tumblr user Danny4LJPres suggested. It has 14,000 responses.

One of them is a reblog from RedRobin, who agrees wholeheartedly.