#everybody likes him and there are too many speeches about it

[meandmyfandoms1230]

I love Inazuma Eleven, or as I like to call it, the "Everybody-Being-Obsessed-With-Endou-Mamoru-Show"

[evilminji]

I've seen references to it in other Prompts?

But unironically? Paulina should Heckle superheroes more.

Like? Look at her AS A CHARACTER. You think she respects Authority? In their Tacky suits and with their weak ass boundaries she's been stomping over her ENTIRE LIFE, largely unpunished? Because she's Pretty and gifted in the Social Grace's department?

Granted, rarely USES them on most of these needs. But she HAS them and CAN. Why do you thinks she THE popular girl? Looks? Please. There are plenty of pretty girls out there. SHE can make you feel like you're the most important person in the whole world. Her BEST friend.

SHE put in the work to have flawless skin and a complexe social network based on future networth and political significance. A cute butt. Socials beyond reproach.

And SHE? Is so, SO fuckin PISSED.

Her Boo (don't judge her, it's a cute pun) is being SHOT at! Is run in to the ground EXHAUSTED. Doing jobs that CERTAIN people should be getting off their asses to do. CERTAIN people keep making pretty little speechs and getting good PR, while out here HER BOO is getting LAZER HOLES punched through him!

He should be of DATES. Laughing and going for flights. Sitting in the bleachers of cheer practice, safe and silly and shouting tips even though he doesn't know the first thing about Cheer. Getting to be YOUNG. In love!

And Paulina? Always on her phone. Their socials are just... RIGHT THERE. Oooh, Mr. "We protect everybody, aren't we such GOOD GUYS~☆" Her favorite flats! And, maybe, yeah, it's the pain from getting THROWN from the top of the pyramid they were practicing by that fucking GIW explosion.

Maybe it's the fact that Phantom hand to shield her with his BODY and those bastards SHOT at them. Could be the squad egging her on, furious and phones out. But how the weather in Metropolis, Supes? Enjoying up in your little ivory tower? Guess only city kids matter, huh?

Fastest man alive to ignore a genocide, HUH, Flash?

Nice Speech, Wonder Hypocrite. Guess "all woman are Amazons" until they're DEAD. Then you can do what you want to them?

Just. These Pretty, Bland, Offend No One, We're Aiming For Good Sport Colleges And Know They Check These accounts? Going NUCLEAR. All pretty, made for TV faces too. The sort of thing that makes for GREAT news segments and terrible PR.

Because? If Paulina is doing it? Well, A Lister solidarity. Jocks gotta have their back. They've been holding back some Opinions(tm). Time to throw um to the web.

And the blockades? Doesn't do SHIT. Because the GIW forgot one simple factor(well, MANY factors).

Cheerleaders have Away Games.

Paulina and Company? If they can't text INSIDE Amity? Fine. They'll cue them up. Release them at Amity VS. Whatever loser they're crushing next. Rah, rah, go teeeeam! Guess who has internet nooooooow!

GIW may have access to high tech devices and authoritarian control... but they're IDIOTS prone to easily avoidable human errors.

Meanwhile? Most of the JLA is metaphorically ON FIRE.

[ladykailitha]

A Gentle Bloom

I don't know where this came from but I think I lost the plot a little bit at the end there. But enjoy.

~

Eddie walks into Family Video and immediately Steve smiles. He can't help but smile back. He comes up to the counter where Steve is filing returns.

"Hey there, big boy," Eddie teases, "did you know you smile every time I come in?"

Steve blushes and ducks his head, shaking. "I didn't."

"Sure do."

Steve chews on the bottom of his lip. "Do you want me to stop?"

"Nah..." Eddie says brightly. "It's a nice change of pace from what the rest of the town does."

Steve smiles even brighter. "Then I'll make sure to smile even more now when I see."

"You do that," Eddie says deeply serious and fond.

Steve busies himself with work while Eddie walks the aisles making commentary to see how long it takes for Steve to laugh. It never takes long, so tries to see how many times he can make him laugh instead.

Total? About seven before he accidentally makes a rude comment with some old bitch right around the corner and has to stop. Steve admonishes him in the moment but after she's gone, tells him he thought it was funny, too.

~

The warm smiles Eddie gets from Steve are enough to power him through even the worst days. It's like drinking a cup of hot chocolate all at once on a cold winter's day.

It's on a warm June day when everyone is over at Steve's for a party when the edge of the knife they've been balancing on finally tips over. Eddie works late so he arrives most of the way into dinner which was hot dogs and hamburgers grilled up on the back porch next to the pool.

There's this old swinging deck love seat nestled in the woods a little bit a way from the house. It's still on the property and Eddie stops there for a smoke before joining the party.

Wayne spots him. Because of course he does. He comes over and sits next to him on the swing.

"You do know that boy is sweet on you, right?" Wayne says jutting his chin at the man of the hour who is happily chatting with El and Lucas about something.

"Whatever you say, old man," Eddie says shaking his head and then taking another drag of his cigarette. It's not that he doesn't believe him. Not really. He's just too tired to think about it right now.

Wayne chuckles. "I'll show you."

"Show me what?" Eddie asks and then shakes his head again.

Wayne gets up and Eddie can hear the exchange.

"Hey, Steve," Wayne greets.

"Hey, you enjoying yourself?" Steve asks brightly.

"Sure am," he says warmly. "Eddie's here."

Instantly Steve perks up and looks around.

"He's just feeling a bit tired and not ready to join the party yet, if you wanted to say hi." He points the direction of the swing. "He's right there."

Steve looks over at him and smiles. "I know how that goes. Take as much food as you want." He pats Wayne on the arm and heads in toward Eddie.

Eddie can't help but smile at the boy as he comes over to sit down.

"Rough day at work?" Steve asks gently, putting his arm over the back of the swing.

Eddie just shakes his head. "Just long." He looks out at all the people having fun. "So what's the deal with the shindig? It seemed pretty important that everybody be here."

Steve blushes and pulls something out his back pocket and hunches over the piece of paper in his hands.

"What's that then?"

Steve straightens and clears his throat. "Would you help with my speech? I wrote some of it down so didn't forget stuff. Robin says it makes me sound like a dork, but because I am, it works. But I'm still not sure."

Eddie softens. "Sure, Stevie. Wha'cha got?"

"Thank you all for coming to--"

Eddie holds up his hand. "I'm gonna stop you there. This isn't a business meeting or telling people you're dying. Unless you are dying?"

Steve shakes his head and digs out a pen from his front pocket. He scratches out the first line. "I've always been the kind guy to rip off a bandaid instead of little by little, so you're wondering why you weren't told first, the only ones I've told are Robin..." he continues and sticks out his tongue as he writes and talks at the same time, "and Eddie because they help me write it..."

Eddie smiles at him. "I like that. Doesn't hurt anyone's feelings."

Steve looks up at him and gives him the biggest smile yet. Eddie melts a little bit more.

"So the truth is that I'm bisexual," Steve continues looking back down at the page and misses Eddie's stunned reaction. "It doesn't mean I have both male and female parts despite what it sounds like."

Eddie barely manages to stifle his giggle but as Steve grins too, he figures it's a deliberate joke and let's it slide.

"It means I like boys and girls," Steve says after a brief pause and a sigh. "It also doesn't mean that it changes my previous relationships in anyway. I'm not half gay and half straight. And while I recently figured it out, I've been this way for awhile. I didn't know that other people didn't have crushes on both actors and actresses. On pop princesses and rock gods."

"Yeah..." Eddie says drawing out the word, "that should have been a pretty clear indication you liking both, pretty boy."

Steve blushes and clears his throat. "And even though I've never kissed a boy or anything like that, doesn't mean it's only thet--throg--the--"

Eddie looks over his shoulder. "Theoretical," he says sounding it out for him. "It means you don't have the practice so it doesn't count. Or at least it does in this context."

Steve nods. "That's basically the end of it anyway. I just say I'm going to be dating guys and girls now and to not freak out when I do."

Eddie scoots closer to Steve on the swing. "Do you want it to be practical?"

"Huh?" he asks, that slightly vacant expression on his face that he gets when he's really confused.

So Eddie cups his face and kisses his lips gently.

"Oh."

"Would you like to have a boyfriend before going in there and reading your lovely little letter to all your friends?" Eddie breathed, still cupping his cheek.

"Yeah," Steve breathes and they kissing again.

~

Steve's nearing the end of the speech and Eddie is so close to giggling that Robin keeps glaring at him and mouthing the words, "I know what you are, Eddie Munson."

It's not helping keeping the giggles in, if he's honest.

"And I had this big paragraph with a lot of big words about how I never kissed a boy but that it didn't mean I didn't know if I really liked boys or not, but I don't need that anymore."

Max raised her hand. "Before you get all giddy about your boyfriend and steamroll over the bisexuality part, can we talk about that for a minute?"

Steve shoves the paper back in his pocket and says, "Shoot."

"You say it's not 50/50 but what does that mean exactly?" she asks.

"Oh, good question," he says proudly and she blushes. "So for me at least, it's mostly girls with some guys. But it can be anything from that one member of the same sex and then the rest is opposite sex and vice versa. And everything in between."

"How did you know you liked boys?" El asks, tilting her head in that way she does.

"The things I was feeling for girls," Steve explains, "the butterflies around certain boys, the blushing, the wanting to be around them all the time, or in the case of actors wanting to meet them not because I thought they were cool but because I wanted them to sweep me off my feet. Does that help?"

"But both?" Mike asks. "I don't understand. You say it feels the same so how did you not know?"

"Ah."

"Because liking your own gender is scary," Robin says from her perch behind Steve. "And so you might think it's something else. Jealousy, envy, or even just think you want to be them. It's same if you only gay, too."

They all look at her wide-eyed. "Oh, I guess this is my coming out party, too. Hi, I'm gay!"

Steve turns around a gives her a high five.

"If it'll help," Eddie says, "We can do a heads up seven up type deal. Only Steve will see, but if you feel attraction to girls, raise your hand, if you feel attraction to boys raise your hand and he figure what to say easier. Erica you don't have to participate if you don't want to."

She makes a face. "Boys are gross, but in a cootie way."

Steve nods.

"I'd feel more comfortable if it wasn't just Steve," Nancy says, arms folded across her chest.

"Robin or Eddie?" Steve asks, "because everyone knows what they are and won't judge."

They vote and it's Eddie, so Robin goes to sit with the rest of them so she take part too.

"Girls," Steve calls out and gets a head count. Five. And the ones he expected on that one.

"Boys," he calls out next. There are four, just not the four he was expecting. The surprise squirms a little as if they can feel Steve's gaze.

And one exception.

"Huh," he says. "That was certainly interesting. There is one who answered both and another that answered neither."

Dustin wrinkles his nose. "How can you not like either boys or girls?"

Joyce actually raised her hand. "I can answer that, I know I wasn't supposed to peek, but I kinda did," she winces bobbing her head back and forth. "Anyway. There are people who no matter who just aren't able to experience attraction that way. They don't what causes it, but they think it might just be like being gay."

"Can they still fall in love?" Will asks shyly. And Steve knows that Will knows who the exception was.

Joyce's expression softens. "Of course they can."

"Liking your own sex," Steve says, "is fine and good. And if you like both, that's fine too. But you get to chose your coming out when and to who. Just like I did. And if you need advice, you come to any of us privately."

Eddie and Steve share a look. They know the three who over the next couple weeks would be coming to Steve for advice. Will. El. Mike.

"So," Steve says clapping his hands together, "if there aren't any other questions. As of..." he looks at his watch, "twenty-seven minutes ago, Eddie and I are dating."

Eddie takes his hand and kisses it as the entire room explodes. Mostly in congratulations but some dismay. Like Mike.

But in the end they are all happy for them. Mike will come around.

He always does.

[eskymoos]

Levi Ackerman As a Romantic Partner

Headcanons by Eskimos

Levi Ackerman is the Captain of the scouts.

Of course he will have high expectations of you. His eyes are always on the target and his strength never fails. However, he knows to keep you close during every mission. Regardless of whether his behavior betrays it, his heart beats for you. Levi would sooner put himself under a guillotine blade than let anything or anybody hurt you.

He's also the type to hold a long speech to you about how you're using your ODM gear wrong and then, when you finally get the chance to shine, he will fly past you and slash three titans at once. Is he doing it for the safety of everybody or just to impress you? That remains a mystery.

Levi Ackerman is Humanity's Strongest soldier.

He doesn't crow about his strength. Nobody questions it because it's a fact. What's more, you've seen both sides of the coin. Levi implements harsh, disciplinary methods on young, delinquent soldiers. Sometimes he even punishes them physically. You might catch the Captain in the hallway dragging somebody like a ragdoll by their hair or kicking the back of their knee to trip them and the next moment you're in his office doing your work alongside him while his fingers rest in your hair. The same fingers that just tormented somebody tangle in your hair and mess it affectionately. You know how to find comfort in his cold presence. In fact, you know he would turn the Earth inside out if something were to happen to you.

Levi Ackerman is a member of the exiled Ackerman clan.

Levi is many things and definitely not proud of his origins. He knows a thing or two about how the Ackerman clan came to be and why it's so despised. The only reason he chooses to associate himself with the name is because it reminds him of the first person he ever truly loved- his mother. Or, well, that used to be the explanation before you stepped into his life. Now he daydreams about making you an Ackerman. His partner until death does you apart. In his eyes, the shame is all gone because you're his other half and he would happily make that bond eternal.

Levi Ackerman is a hyper ultra mega clean freak.

His room? Spotless? His office? Shining clean.

Hygiene is a thing he will never ever overlook (his past can explain that mania). There's nothing more enjoyable than a deep clean and a fresh start.

However, there's a secret he will never tell anybody. Your disorganization and chaotic, aimless persona holds some charm that he never expected to find in the first place. Yes, he certaintly won't be encouraging a filthy work space but you being the polar opposite can give him butterflies and gradually drive him mad. Before you know it, his entire mind is a mess because of you and you don't even suspect a thing.

If you're a clean freak like him, then you're undeniably the soulmate he yearns for. Levi's obsession can only grow deeper if he sees a reflection of his own ideas in you.

Levi Ackerman is a murder weapon.

Having been recruited from a young age to serve Erwin, Levi is very much used to the blood bath that comes with his job. He is ruthless from the core of his beating heart. If justice stands behind violence, then he won't mind being the bad guy even if it ruins an innocent life.

Things are not so black and white behind closed doors. If you're the lucky person who owns his heart and soul, you will have the honor of receiving limitless amount of devotion from the depths of his eyes. His touch will always be gentle and his words- thoughtful. He will always be a shoulder to cry on and a shelter to stand under.

Even during more intimate moments, his focus will be entirely on you and the gentleness of his actions will make your head spin.

''Deep breaths, come on.''

''Eyes on me.''

''That's it. Just like that.''

Levi Ackerman is human. More human than people think.

There are days when things just get too much. And when the world is too loud and all burdens weigh on his shoulders, he will find you and keep you close.

Levi is confirmed to be a very emotional character. Even his silence speaks volumes when he sits beside you, arms and legs crossed and his head resting on your shoulder. He will relish you and worship these bits of tranquility that he rarely gets.

Levi Ackerman is an insomniac.

His nights are a hellish loop. Memories, work, plan-making, strategies. The man doesn't have it easy. You are the antidote for all his problems. When you sleep near him, even if you've passed out in his office, he will observe you and take care of you to the best of his capabilities. The sight of a loved one being at peace heals all his scars and suddenly he feels like he is dreaming.

''Huh-- Levi, are you alright?''

''Go to sleep,'' he'd murmur, looking into your tired eyes. ''I am here. Sleep.''

And it's true. He is always there. He always will be.

Levi Ackerman is short.

And he wishes there was a way to change that. It's an insecurity he can't mask so easily but it doesn't affect him too strongly. Truth is, building a healthy relationship with you will only fuel his desire to demonstrate other good traits. For example, if you're struggling to reach something he will walk behind you and position his cold, slender hands on your waist just to lift you up and help out. He's short, yes, but outstandingly intelligent.

Levi Ackerman? He is like no other.

[qqueenofhades]

can you assuage my creeping fear about the debate between harris and trump? my brain is like. the media will be salivating over any chance to get the story HARRIS FLUBS THE DEBATE MORE AT 6 unless she's 100% perfect for it. i keep telling myself that she's an incredibly seasoned prosecutor who knows exactly what to do to unravel these sorts of people, she has plenty of time to prepare, he's completely gone over the edge into incoherence most of the time, but i also keep thinking of how, after weeks of her absolutely pile-driving the republican party, the media will be circling for any mistake, mis-step, or imperfection to blow out of proportion to make it seem like she's failing. i guess what i'm afraid of is the other shoe dropping? or the bubble bursting? i'm afraid of this hope?

i was barely aware of obama in 2008, too young to vote and not paying attention, so i don't know how this kind of momentum turned into the juggernaut that got him elected. i know you believe that the same can happen here, how did he take on the predatory press?

Well, first, we need to recognize that the media treatment of the debate WILL be wildly unfair, full stop. If Trump shows up and puts on pants, he will be applauded by the media, because they have the lowest imaginable bar where he is concerned and everything that would have been multiply-disqualifying for any other candidate makes them just shrug and find a way to make excuses for him. So yes, he will literally be congratulated if he shows up on September 10, because that is how the media works. See: three relentless weeks of bullying Biden out of the race after the bad debate, barely mentioning Trump's equally insane diatribes at the same debate, and now, when he's gone full-on demented and is raving about AI-generated crowds at Kamala's events? Nary a peep. Lol.

However, the main narrative that's emerging from the Harris takeover is that voters and the media are miles apart on where they actually see this race going, and without the media's favorite chew toy of Biden's shortcomings, it has become increasingly difficult to avoid focusing on Trump's flaws, even tangentially. See the mainstream media reporters whining constantly that Harris hasn't given them a press conference and congratulating Trump for lying to them nonstop for an hour; they simply have no frame of reference that's remotely useful, because they are so beholden to making Trump look like a normal candidate and focusing on Harris's "flaws" as if they are remotely comparable to his. But at the same time, there has been a far heightened level of pushback on this BS manipulation, and everybody can see through it, precisely because the media and/or the right-wing smear machine has tried this so many times before and their tactics are now completely transparent. Ordinary voters don't give a shit whether Harris WiLl tAkE qUesTioNs fRoM tHe mEdiA; they're too busy flooding her campaign with donations, attending her rallies, signing up for volunteer shifts, and so forth. In fact, the reason the media is trying SO HARD to kill her momentum is because they, like Trump, rely on doing so. The more they try and don't succeed, the more panicked they'll get. We have to prepare for that, and we have to have her back.

That said, we should recall that Harris easily crushed Pence in their debate in 2020, and Pence was actually halfway presentable at it compared to Trump (which is a low bar, but still). The way Trump "wins" is that he just repeats a lot of lies forcefully and over and over, which Biden was ill-prepared to counter because he has a far more deliberate and decisive speaking style (related to stutter/speech difficulties, temperament as a politician, etc). Everything that I have seen from the Harris campaign in terms of communication so far, however, has been the exact kind of clapback that makes Trump look stupid and which shows that they are very attuned to the kind of strategies that work against that nonsensical bullying Gish gallop. Therefore, I have to trust that they have INTENSIVELY studied what went wrong with Biden/Trump in June, and also empowered Kamala to do what she does in her fashion and which has been extremely successful thus far at knocking down Trump's BS. Also, she's just a better and more fluent communicator than Biden, she looks and sounds more energetic, and those stupid aesthetic Vibes are half of the battle when it comes to convincing the public.

Also, we should recognize that Trump looked deeply creepy on stage at the debates with HRC in 2016, and that was when he was downright sane compared to now. He stalked her, he stood behind her, he rolled his eyes, he bullied her, and people noticed that (he subsequently won the election, yes, but if nothing else, 2024 feels nothing like 2016). If he has to stand on stage with a black woman kicking his ass, after his appearance at the NABJ event in Chicago quickly became a touchstone for how badly he fucked it up, he is going to just look BAD, and when that's the case, people will immediately fit it into the existing narrative (that he's scared of Harris and deeply racist and unglued). You can also play your part in making sure it does. At least half of the Bidengate furor came from Democrats melting down and yelling about it afterward, and that led into the knives-out media coverage that spiraled for 3.5 weeks until Biden withdrew. We can, yknow, NOT DO THAT this time!

So: yeah. We have to be aware that yes, the media coverage of the debate will find absolutely every excuse to praise Trump and bash Harris, because that's just baked in. However, we can also understand that there's a wide-and-getting-wider CHASM between how ordinary voters see things right now and how the media is desperate to play it, and the more transparent they get, the more easily we are able to call it out. (See Lawrence O'Donnell's rant the other night.) We are going to have to keep doing that and not let up, but it's not going to go well for Trump either way and it's still an open question as to whether he even shows up after trying SO hard to dodge. It's not out of the question that he'll announce on September 4 that by Harris not showing up to the Fox debate she never agreed to and which exists only in his deluded mind, he doesn't have to do the same on September 10. He is a scared fucking orange chickenshit who KNOWS he's badly outmatched against Harris and whose entire campaign strategy at this point relies on lying low and trying not to make voters remember again how much they hate him, which is already backfiring. And with your help, we can make him MORE scared all the way to prison. Let's do it.

[smusherina]

bridges burnt - chapter 4 [epilogue series] (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: When an invitation to Gretchen Wieners' wedding ended up in your mailbox, you'd been sure it was a mistake. Only, it read your name in neat, swoopy calligraphy. It was addressed to you. And Regina George, whom you hadn't spoken to in years.

additional clarification: This is set in the universe of yard work, a series of mine that can be found on my page! Reading this one might be a bit challenging without the context of the series :)

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 5

You clapped along with everybody else when the bride and groom made their entrance. You kept a polite smile on your face even as Regina's hand, rested on your knee, had your blood rushing.

The couple would be making the rounds, talking to and thanking guests before speeches were given and toasts were made. Then (finally) the food would be served.

You sipped fizzy apple juice from a champagne flute, leg jittering uncontrollably as you waited for Gretchen and her husband to get to your table. Regina was doing the same, though looking remarkably calmer. Looked like it would take a while, considering the flock of relatives accosting them.

You did not pity them. Those cheek pinches looked painful.

"You gotta calm down," She eventually said, squeezing your leg.

"I can't help it. You know what Gretchen did. I don't even know why she'd- y'know- invite us."

You hoped Regina got your meaning. You'd been broken up for a long time now and it wasn't like Gretchen didn't know. When you'd moved back to town and Mrs George had gotten wind of it, she'd talked very excitedly to all the neighbours about her daughter's best ex living in town.

Gretchen's mom, part of the most pernickety HOA, a soccer mom of extreme intensity and a domineering PTA rep, of course, relayed the information to her daughter—and anybody who'd listen—when she got wind of it from someone. The network of middle-aged women was insane in the area. You digress. There was no way to know this for a fact but you could make an educated guess.

"I suspect it's because she's a heinous bitch," Regina said, casual as ever. "A vengeful, hateful, homophobic bitch."

"Careful, there's ears everywhere." Janis piped up, eyeing the room.

"You know I'm right." Regina defended, eyebrow notched.

"Obviously," Janis made a face like she couldn't believe Regina would suggest otherwise. "But, personally, I wanna get a taste of the menu before we're kicked out."

"Now, that's an idea..." Regina hummed, tapping her chin.

"What's an idea?" You asked. Regina didn't answer. "Reggie. What idea? What ideas are you getting, Regina?" Almost frantic.

"Don't worry your sweet little head about it, babe. I've got everything under control." She teased, pressing a patronizing kiss on your cheek. Your brain made computer whirring noises, blue flashing before your eyes. Rebooting.

"I don't like this," You mumbled into Regina's ear.

"Meet me in the bathroom hallway in five minutes." She whispered back, turning with a coy look in her eye.

You chugged the rest of your drink. Fuck. This was gonna be rough. Shane looked equally nervous but seemed to calm down when Aaron came by. You shook hands very awkwardly. He asked about you and Regina. You told him you were good, that she was good. Maybe your tone was a little too aggressive, leftover from your angsty teenage jealousy, because he settled to chat with his boo from then on.

Five minutes passed very slowly. You eyed your watch for the last minute of it, on the edge of your seat.

"Was nice seeing you, Aaron." You gave a quick, apologetic smile. "Best of luck." Hopefully, that sufficed as an olive branch.

"You too, man, you too," He called after you. You waved behind your back and strode towards the bathroom hallway.

There were too many goddamn guests. You navigated through the throngs of people best you could, muttering sorry and excuse me as you pushed through.

"What the fuck, girl?" You startled when Amanda took you by the cuff. She led you to a nearby wall, so very close to your destination.

"I thought you broke up?" She asked, hissing more like.

"We did. I don't know what's going on."

"Uh, tell her to back off? People are talking that there's, y'know, a very passionate lesbian couple here. Relatives from the bible belt not impressed." Amanda gave you a look, narrowed eyes and crossed arms. "Have you been lying to me?"

"No!" You denied vehemently. "It sounds crazy, I know, but she just came up to me like that."

"And why didn't you, hmm, I dunno, push her away?" Amanda's eyes turned soft. "She didn't treat you right, we discussed this."

"I didn't treat her much better, Amanda." You sighed and rubbed your forehead. "I... I can't say no to her. I- I don't want to say no."

"This isn't good for you." She said as if you didn't already know.

"Yeah. Well." You spread your arms and let them drop listlessly. "You know me, I do a lot of things not good for me."

"You're hopeless." She turned to the rest of the room. "Just remember, you're my ride home."

Your eyebrows rose.

"You sure about that?" You cast a meaningful glance towards the bar. The same guy, still being bothered by the same lady you were pretty sure, kept throwing helpless glances Amanda's way. She was gonna take that puppy home, he was so her type.

"Are you calling me a slut?" She grinned. "If all goes according to plan, I'll text you where to pick me up tomorrow morning."

"Great. Don't get murdered, yeah?" You patted her on the shoulder. "I gotta go."

"I have your back, Jay. Don't forget that."

You nodded solemnly and continued your journey towards the bathrooms. Just as you crossed into the hallway, looking left first, someone grabbed you roughly by the collar and slammed you against the wall.

"What-" You yelped but didn't get any more words out before Regina descended on you. She took you harshly, lips on yours sealed tight like she was keen on sucking the life out of you. Your body slumped against her, mouth seeking hers as she dipped her tongue in.

It was sloppy, a little gross, and loud. Had you been any other person, some innocent bystander, you probably would've been disgusted. But this was Regina George and she was kissing you. That still floored you.

Regina hadn't kissed you like this since high school. When you spent senior prom at your house, cooped up and pretending it didn't matter all the other couples got to dance and have fun while you hid. When you both got so angry that the only way to find release was in each other. When you broke up and decided you were better separate, crying in the middle of intimacy and so, so desperate.

"Keep your eyes on me, jorts." Regina breathed into your lips. You tasted her, something sweet and minty. "You can go back to your little girlfriend when we're done here."

"Huh?" You made a sound. "What girlfriend?"

"The one you were talking to just now." She trailed kisses to your ear. Your eyes fluttered, heart skipped beats. "You got multiple?"

"No, just you, uh, I mean- she's not my girl." You tried to produce full sentences with mild success. "She's here for emotional support."

"What's your relationship with her?" All these official questions while her hands were roaming under your suit jacket, feeling up your back, scratching with her nails. You shivered.

"Friends." You swallowed, panting as Regina sucked marks on your throat. There would be no hope of covering those up.

"Good," Regina said gutterally, voice almost like a growl as her leg pressed between yours. Oh god, was she going to fuck you right here?

"Now, you're gonna be real good for me and do exactly as I say." She kept touching your sides, your hips, your thighs, and you could not take much more. Her lips dizzied you, talking so low you had to strain to hear every word. Her gloss was all over you, sticky and tacky.

"Reg, what the fuck are we doing?"

"We're pretending, baby, and we're gonna sell it." Your stomach sunk. You knew this was some act but having it spelt out like this, that Regina was using you for revenge, stung. She continued:

"I will do everything in my power to ruin this wedding. I have ideas and I just need you to assist a little bit."

"Regina," You sighed and pushed her by the shoulders, lightly and gently. She went willingly, though with a pout. "You're doing it again. Revenge. This is why we broke up."

"We broke up for many reasons, jorts." She retorted, nails scratching at your tummy. You tried to hide your trembling.

"Yes, and- Regina!" She attached her lips to your pulse, where you were especially sensitive.

"Still got it," She mumbled cheekily into your skin, pressing kisses there just to torment you.

"You're horrible," You whined, hands holding onto her shoulders for dear life. Her leg hiked further up on the wall, pressing against you firmly. You kept your hips still, not daring to enter that territory somewhere so public.

You were at the end of your rope. Not much more now and all reservations would be null. You were sure you wouldn't say no if she unzipped your fly then and there.

"You know I am, baby." She squeezed your waist and sucked a hickey right on your jugular.

"Why are you doing this?" You asked, voice weak.

She didn't answer for a while. Just kept touching you, feeling you, kissing you. It was driving you mad but at the same time, you were beginning to feel like the reason didn't matter.

"Good question. Just go with it, yeah?" She breathed, finally pulling away enough to look into your eyes. "You look ravished." She looked so pleased with herself, with a little smirk on her face and her eyes glinting.

"Thanks," You tried to catch your breath.

"Now, we're gonna make out until someone finds us and that'll stir up something." Regina leaned back in but you dodged her kiss, giving her your neck instead. She didn't seem to mind, teeth getting in the mix.

"Y'know there's- there are more effective ways to ruin a wedding than kissing in a secluded hallway." You pointed out.

"Maybe. But this is more fun." She pulled your shirt out of your pants, ruining the careful tuck you'd done. Her hands grabbed at your lower back, nails scraping on your flesh teasingly. She was trying to kill you, surely. You told her so.

"You're gonna kill me, Reg."

"I'd never hurt you." She whispered, sounding more sombre than you would've expected. "You're the exception."

"Why can't you make exceptions for anybody else? Gretchen doesn't deserve this or all this effort."

"Jorts, baby," She brought her lips to your ear, whispering right up against it. You bit your lip not to moan. "You deserve all the effort."

That got you thinking.

"Did I deserve it back then?" You asked, careful, a little too quiet.

Regina paused, hands resting and mouth unlatching. "Yes."

You stood there, breathing together. You were all kinds of messy, so obviously kissed stupid, but you couldn't help the sting in your eyes.

It was dramatic, you knew that, crying over a bygone high school romance. You'd been just teenagers. It shouldn't matter anymore, not at this point when you were both adults. You both had real jobs, your own homes, your own lives.

"I missed you," You said, resting your forearms on Regina's shoulders. You touched your forehead to hers.

"I missed you, too," She said back, just as quiet. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too." It felt like a weight lifted off of your chest. "What should we do?"

"How about..." Regina looked up at you through her lashes. You felt lightheaded. Her lipgloss was smeared in the sexiest way. "We get revenge on Gretchen for all the shit she did in high school, for being a homophobic bigot, and for almost getting Kylie expelled."

"Kylie? Expelled?" That surprised you. You hadn't seen Kylie since her sweet sixteenth last year, which she'd invited you to. You stopped by before any of the guests or Regina got there.

"Gretchen caught her kissing one of her younger cousins at their place. A girl. Obvi, Duvall didn't let it fly but it pretty much outed Kylie."

You took a deep breath.

"Let's give the kids kazoos. And water guns. That will ruin any wedding."

Regina laughed. "Where are we getting kazoos? And water guns?"

"I did some volunteer work as a camp counsellor this summer. There's some good stuff in my car." You got an idea then.

"We can lure raccoons into the reception hall!"

Regina cackled.

Notes: I googled "ways to ruin a wedding" and got some awesome results. Look forward to that in the next chapter!

Taglist posted seperately! If you want to be added, please comment on that post!

[affectionate-team]

Another day, another log-in. The doors of Ramshackle open up once more to welcome their dear resident - their Yuu, their player.

Representatives from all dorms wait with bated breath, wondering who's going to get lucky and be allowed to give their welcoming speech this time. Some are confident, head held high and proud, words sitting at the tip of their tongue, ready to be spilled; others are anxious, fidgeting with parts of their uniform and checking themselves in a mirror - such an occasion requires one to look their best, all to make a good impression on you! And, after a few torturous seconds of waiting, spotlight lands on one of the many. Their face gleams under jealous stares of their disappointed schoolmates, a single bead of sweat rolling down the nape and bringing cool air to their skin. Everything has to be perfect for the player, and perfect it is - the words that have been rehearsed hundreds of time in the privacy of their room, the face expressions, the gestures - as they voice out wishes for another productive day and offer the log-in rewards.

To be chosen as a class partner is both a blessing and a curse. Rejoice those who have skills and smarts to demonstrate and brag about, poor are those who fall behind in studies. Leona suddenly finds a reason to skip out on a midday nap in favor of sitting out a history lesson, surprising both his classmates and Professor Trein. From time to time he even bothers to speak out, interrupting some poor kid - not like they'll do anything about it, a Kingscholar is not a force to be reckoned with; Azul and Riddle stare each other down, lifting hands at every question at the speed of light, completing tasks flawlessly, outshining everybody else with their vast knowledge to the point where teachers have to ignore them on purpose - after all, other students need their marks too... Though it doesn't stop the two from flaunting their exams results after finals roll around.

What do you mean "Twisted wonderland is not a romance visual novel"? Do they look like they care? Even the heaviest of Disney censor will not stop these boys from sneaking in a couple of flirty remarks. They WILL go against code if they have to. And if main story cannot be messed with, events are still a fair game, are they not? Watch Ace throw in bold pick-up lines and inquire about your type; it's the fifth time you're inviting him in the guest room, do you have a crush on him or something?? don't get shy now, of course he's just teasing! It's a shame that your choice of answers is so limited, the game brushes off his words way too easily...

And don't get me started at the Magic Mirror summons. To be selected as a member of the player's team is an honor like no other - that means their strength was recognized. Though some card combinations can be pretty... questionable. Placing, say, Leona and Malleus or Floyd and Riddle in one team would most likely result in a mess; be careful with your choice!

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

By fire and heart

Pt. 6

Daemma Targaryen. Second daughter of King Viserys and queen Aemma, you're the living portrait of your mother with the character of a true dragon, as a second daughter you don't have right to the throne but certainly, you will protect your sister's succession by heart. (You are one year younger than Rhaenyra.)

Warning: Credits of this images goes to whoever they belong to, I think it's to CCARMYY TikTok user! Grammatical and spelling errors, I used an online valyrian translator so if there're some errors I apologize and if you know about a good one please let me know, maybe this won't be good enough but In my head the story was a good one.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Pt. 7 here

A funeral always brings bitter and uncomfortable moments and awake old memories, but is also a reunion where you can find friends, enemies, families and allies all mixed together, you can't expect everything to go well.

The uncomfortable moments start when Vaemond Velaryon gives a speech and sarcastically mentions our blood and how this one shouldn't be diluted, causing Daemon to laugh, everybody observed him but apparently not many could understand what Vaemond was trying to say, he was doing a reference about Rhaenyra's sons, or at least that's what you think he was talking about.

You warned your sister to be careful and keep her distance from your uncle, not because you want to keep them away from each other, it's because your enemies are observing all of you, expecting the next move.

You were walking around when you heard Aegon and Aemond's conversation.

- We don't have nothing in common.

- She's our sister.

- Then you marry her, Daemma is also our sister.

- I would do it if it was my duty. But it is you who will get married, not me.

- She's an idiot, Daemma was a better match for me.

- She is your future queen, forget about Daemma.

You casually passed in front of the young boys, Aegon couldn't ignore you, he walked right behind you, following you around.

- Ao sagon tolī hāeda naejot mōzugon bona olvie, lēkia. (You're too young to drink that much, brother.)

You say to Aegon while you observed happily to Rhaenyra's sons talking with Daemons daughters and with their grandparents, it's a good sign, even in dark moments you know you can count with all of them.

- I drink the exact amount, funerals are sad and a good wine is always good to help us to survive.

- I thought you were drinking with the excuse of your marriage. Congratulations by the way, I hope you and Helaena can be happy.

- Don't come up with those words, it feels like poison in my system.

- I'm not trying to make you feel in that way my boy, I'm merely accepting our destiny is not together my dear brother but you're still welcome to visit my chambers when you feel overwhelmed or alone. After all, we're friends, no?

He looks at you, you're smiling at him and the way you look at him just shows how much you adore him. You're such a liar. He doesn't say more but simply nods. You continued walking leaving him alone.

You can see your father finally talking to your uncle, you've been avoiding him since the incident with Rhaenyra. Considering the circumstances perhaps it is time to make peace with him but just when you're walking to them Daemon leaves your father's side and you catch your sister, she looks at your uncle in the same way she did a long time ago, now is not only a probable option, it's definitely, you have to make peace with him for the good of realm, for the good of your sister.

You saw Otto Hightower walking to your uncle, you walked fast to arrive before him.

- Uncle, I'm Sorry for your loss.

He observes you from head to toe and then looks at some other place.

- Daemma, Ziry emagon issare nykeā bōsa jēda (it has been a long time). Ao sagon nykeā ābra sir, ao jurnegon gevie (You're a woman now, you look beautiful).

- Perhaps I look like a woman but there's a lot of things I still have to learn about it. I owe you an apology.

- Don't. Ao istan nykeā riñnykeā, ao gōntan daor shifang. (You were a child, you didn't understand)

- Now I'm not a child and i think as an adult it is necessary to make peace with the past, after all, you were like a father to me and I've been missing you.

You looked at him with some tears in your eyes, you can't deny it, you missed him. While he gave you a little smile and nodded, accepting your apology.

-Moreover, issa mandia se nyke jāhor jorrāelagon... someone... kostōba rȳ īlva paktot. (my sister and I will need... someone... strong at our side).

In a flash of an eye, you were hugging him, you missed him, a lot, the man who raised you. He returned the hug quickly and whispered in your ear.

- Ao kostagon ūñagon va issa. (You can count on me)

Both agreed in silence and he walked away. You were observing him when your sister's voice made you gasp.

- Send the kids to bed, please Sister.

You jumped when you heard your siste, she walked on the way to the beach where you saw your Uncle going too, you got angry for a moment, why does she never listen? You're sure someone already saw where she was going you already can hear the whispers full of rumors, you did as she asked you to do.

You were looking for Rhaenyra but instead of her, you found Aegon, he was sitting at the stairs, clearly drunk.

- Aegon, stand up.

- I saw you, why do you look for him...

He murmured. You sighed, you had a lot for one day to now handle a drunk teenager, luckily, Otto Hightower appeared at your back, you heard his steps and simply observed him, he neglected with his head, he's as pissed as you.

You were leaving when you felt Aegon pulling up the skirt of your dress murmuring to not leave him, you decide to continue walking, leaving him with his grandfather. Suddenly Aemond's face appears in front of you, he's looking for Aegon.

- Brother.

He says while he looks at the two men behind you.

- Let's go Aemond, Aegon does not feel well.

You walked with him while the sad roaring of Vhagar echoes around the land, the big shape hidden in the clouds makes the day look even more dark and Aemond leaves your side to observe the dragon's shadow. You heard Otto yelling at Aegon.

- Get up and go to sleep!.

Moments later Laenor appears also a little drunk and sobbing, it's understandable from him but still it is not the proper thing to do.

For you that was enough, you needed to rest, you decided to go to your chambers and sleep. You were writing some letters to send to the north when you saw a giant dragon passing by, flying in front of your window, the wind made your candles turn off.

«I need lights please, Guida!» you asked one of your maidens, you weren't thinking about why or who could be flying on a dragon at these hours, you weren't prepared for another issue to end the day.

A quick knock on your door and your guard appearing without waiting for your response.

- My princess, something happened between your nephews and one of the queen's sons. Your presence is requested since we can't find your sister.

You didn't waste time and leave your bedroom. When you arrived the king and his wife were there, the children and some guards, everyone except for your sister, her husband and your uncle.

You quickly approached to Aemond but Alicent stopped you, silently pushing you away. So you went to your nephews and your uncle's daughters, checking if they were as hurt as Aemond while the King was demanding for answers.

- The prince was attacked by his own cousins.

- You swore to protect me and my family!

- I'm sorry, your grace but we never defeated a prince from another.

The news of Aemond's lost eye was echoing in the room when Alicent smacked Aegon's face. He quickly observes around looking for you, you've seen that face before, those sad eyes that beg for some help.

Corlys and Rhaenys arrived and Rhaenys went directly to the girls, right behind them was your sister who ran to the boys.

The scandal starts when all the children want to say their own version about what happened.

You only could hear Jace saying «He called us bastards».

The king demanded Aemond to say the truth while Alicent accused Lucerys of trying to kill her son, you started to feel fire going up to your head while Rhaenyra confessed the boys were called bastards and they were merely defending themselves.

Alicent's attitude makes your blood boil more every time she intervenes, you don't know how long you will control yourself. Your father simply wants the boys to apologize between them, but Alicent is not pleased.

- That is not enough, aemond has lost an eye (...)

- I can't return his eye (...) what do you want me to do?

- There's a debt that must be paid. I want an eye from her son.

You quickly placed yourself in front of Lucerys while Rhaenyra hugged him an Jacaerys.

Everybody exchanged concerned looks while the King was trying to calm his wife.

- If the king doesn't want to make Justice, the queen will. Ser Criston, bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon.

Ser Criston doubts for a second but you know the man would do it happily, you already have your own dagger in your belt. You will not let that man get close to the boy.

- Don't you dare Sir. Criston, or you will not live to see another day.

You simply say and the man looks again at the queen and king.

- I'll let him choose which one, a privilege my son didn't have.

Lucerys was afraid and Rhaenyra was telling him no one would do such a thing when you talked again.

- I'll give the eye the queen demands, I'll sacrifice myself, but she will have to come and take it by herself.

You look at Alicent, defiant, you show and offer her your dagger she observes you confused and angry, you know she will lose her patience soon and that appearance she shows to everyone about being devoted to her duty and always doing the right thing will fall at any second it is just necessary to push her a little bit more.

- Enough!

Your father demands and you stop, stepping back.

There are some exchanging words, between Alicent, Ser Criston and your father. Your father was declaring and warning no one was allowed to talk or doubt about the legitimacy of Rhaenyra's children, when Alicent took your father's dagger and ran to Rhaenyra who was already walking to leave the room.

You heard your father calling her and quickly put the boys behind you while Rhaenyra walked to Alicent. Her rage makes her hard to handle but your sister tries her best, Lucerys yells terrified and you hug him.

You saw Criston walking to the two women and before he could, your uncle appeared just in time to stop him.

Suddenly, your sister falls against Corlys, your father's dagger is on the floor while Alicent looks in horror at your sister's forearm.

Silence, just some baby steps can be heard in the room, Aemond walks in front of both women, looking at his mother.

- Don't feel sorry for me, it's a fair exchange, I've lost an eye but I've won a dragon.

Those words, mature enough for a child were the end of that bitter night, the claim of Vhagar was the drop that spilled the glass, that was the moment when silently everyone confirmed who they would support, Green or black.

For the greens it was a victory, Aemond brought the biggest dragon to their side, but the blacks haven't moved their piece yet.

The night vanished, and the sunlight was filling every room, you were at your sister's chamber helping her with the boys while her forearm wound was being cleaned. Laenor appeared, he clearly didn't have a clue about the night y'all had. Your sister asks all of you to leave the room and everyone disappears as fast as possible.

During the afternoon, your sister asked you to go with her and Daemon, she was going to propose something important.

«I can't confront the greens by myself» (...) «We're fire»

The next thing you knew, it was your uncle and your sister would get married, Laenor would fake his own death, a quick one with a few people, all that to escape and live the life he really wanted. Of course the entire kingdom would murmur and blame Rhaenyra for Laenor's death, but only some of you will know the truth, not the enemy, they will believe whatever they want and at the end they will just fear.

A not so secret wedding was celebrated, and the news of the warrior princess flying to the north gave something to talk about, something to worry about.

[jawnscoffee]

John‘s Wedding Speech

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Maybe I shouldn’t have let my husband hold his speech first because it’s way harder to leave a good impression when there’s already a winner.
Anyway, I‘ll just try to make this as good as possible. 

So, ladies and gentlemen and others. Hello from my side. 

For the first time in my life, I actually had to sit down and think of a proper way to do this. In high school, my, allow me, bloody awful roses-are-red poems didn’t count nearly as much as this speech does right now, and as much as I am happy that I don’t have to recite a violets-are-blue-sequel, I got, well,… really stressed out.

The reason for that is not because I couldn’t think of any good things to say about my husband, by the way. Even though there certainly are some features I‘ll probably find unpleasant until we’re 89 and are struggling to even solve a crossword puzzle. Or let me correct that: I will struggle.
That‘s probably something I‘ll find annoying too, then. Likewise, his remarkable creativity to come up with excuses to not fetch some milk from the store. Or his habit of commenting on every single sentence that’s been said in a TV show.

But before this gets too awkward: this is not a shit-talk show about Sherlock. Because, as I mentioned, all of these things were not the reason why I struggled to come up with the right words for this day.

The reason why I struggled to come up with the right words for today is that, even though there are some bad things, which I just mentioned, there will always be too many good ones that can be said about him.

Because matter how much he hates fetching milk from the store, I know he‘d do it for the rest of our lives if that meant it would make me happy. And no matter how much he hates watching, I quote, „those stupid TV shows," I know that he‘d do it until all eternity if I just stayed by his side. Which I will do, by the way so he doesn’t have to do that to his delight. 

So there were only three words I could come up with that perhaps can measure up to the indescribable person he is: I love him. With all my heart and everything I am I love everything he is.

Sherlock, you saved me in as many ways as I saved you, maybe even more. 

When we first met, I thought I knew what love was, and you thought the same. It turned out we were both wrong, as everybody can see today.

You loved me so entirely that I suddenly realized that I‘ve never been fully loved by someone else. Because nobody of those people were you. Because you love me in ways I‘ve never seen, or even heard of, before. 

Before I met you, I was so alone, and now I owe you so much. You are not only the best man and human being that I have ever known, but the best place where I have ever let my heart rest.
Thank you for being my home. Thank you for being you, even in times when I couldn’t be myself.

You once said to me that love is a simple chemical equation. But if you still think about love this way, I’m afraid you have to exclude mine from this. Because my love for you isn’t just a simple chemical equation. It’s the most complex thing I’ll probably never understand, but even though you might think the opposite, I don’t think that’s bad. I think that’s what all of the poets mean when they say, „My love for you is endless." Because mine for you is, Sherlock.

So when I say I love you, I hope you know that I love you in just as many ways as you love me, which I count to be countless. But if my life is about keeping on counting them anyway, I‘ll be a very happy man indeed. And I really hope you don’t mind this, for once, fruitless experiment. Because I can assure you, that the fruit is and will always be the same, no matter how much time changes.

Like it already has been, it will always be me and you from this day on. The Bakerstreet boys. Or now rather: the Bakerstreet husbands.

The rings on our fingers are the proof and a promise we’ll keep until even you can no longer solve a crossword puzzle.

But I will love you just as much then. Probably even more because my love for you grows each day. And it always will - Until the game is over.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

hiii :D

i wrote this yesterday at 1am or something BUT there’s already sherlocks wedding speech so i thought *claps* I HAVE TO WRITE JAWNS

soooo…yeah

thank you so much for reading. I am happy about any feedback, also on ao3. lots of love <3

tagging: @a-victorian-girl @lisbeth-kk @topsyturvy-turtely @bs2sjh @atamh @missdeliadilisblog @helloliriels @calaisreno @grace-in-the-wilderness @totallysilvergirl @jobooksncoffee @snonkerdoodlefizzy221b @nottheweasley @jawnn-watson @sunshineinyourmind @keirgreeneyes @catlock-holmes @221beloved @paulineholmes02 @dw91165 @peanitbear (just tell me if you wanna be removed/added!!)

[theriverpointace]

i have this h2g2 headcanon that i'm really rather fond of. im gonna talk about it.

okay so first of all, ford has to be able to speak english. which means that he learned how to speak english. and no, i refuse to believe that betelgeusian Just So Happens to work exactly like english, wow what a weird and useful coincidence! because (a) that's just lazy worldbuilding, and (b) we have at least one word in betelgeusian that translates into english: ford's name, ix. "ix" isn't a given name, it's a betelgeusian word given to ford as a nickname because he couldn't say his own name—and, presumably, neither could anybody around him.

i say that ford has to be able to speak english because he lived for fifteen years on a planet full of people without babel fish in their ears. if he came down and started babbling in betegeusian, he would have had a very different experience here. so he either learned english before hitching a ride to earth (highly unlikely, imo, considering how little a role earth plays in the galaxy—i doubt any earth language is too well-known in the wider galaxy), or he had to learn english when he first arrived. this latter is also backed up, to me, by the fact that ford was a bit careless in his original research. i just feel like he would have done the same thing as when he chose a name: get it almost right, but just a little bit off.

i do think ford picks up languages really quickly. in most parts of the galaxy, it doesn't matter if he can speak a language or not, since babel fish are pretty readily available, and everybody has one. however, because babel fish are so readily available, there's no need for a universal language that everybody speaks. the babel fish only work for your ears, not your eyes, so somebody as well-traveled as ford would, by necessity, pick up some basics in a lot of different languages. these basics probably include primarily what you'll find on menus and in travel ports, if i had to guess. (maybe there's some kind of companion to the guide, a hitchhiker's dictionary. maybe that's part of the guide? idk.)

but aside from the necessity of being able to read at least bits and pieces of many languages when one hitchhikes, i think ford does it to make up for not knowing his dad's praxibetel. so what, he never learned the dialect his father loved. so what, he couldn't ever learn to say his own name. so what, he killed his own father/uncle by doing so. so what?? he's gonna learn every other language in the galaxy, just to prove that he can. he's running around the galaxy, convinced that if he can write an article about a planet and know its dialects well enough to read and write them, then what happened to him won't ever happen to anybody else.

and that leads me to my next conclusion: that ford speaks accented english. obviously, everybody does, but i rather like the idea that the way he talks on earth—and possibly, everywhere else—always strikes everybody around him as different. everything else about him does—why shouldn't his voice? so yeah my ford doesn't have a british accent.

but of course, once they're off earth, up in space, once arthur has a babel fish, there's no need for ford to speak english anymore, so he returns to his native betelgeusian ... which leads to a rather surprised arthur going, "ford, what the hell happened to your accent?!"

because since ford isn't speaking a language arthur already knows, the babel fish has to translate his speech now! and i suppose i don't think the babel fish translates accents. like, i guess i don't totally understand how the babel fish works (am i meant to?) but ... i don't know. i think the fish eats up sound waves and what it excretes is something the user can understand based on what's already in their mind. that is to say, arthur, who grew up british and with british accents, hears anything the babel fish as to translate in a british accent. so when ford stops speaking accented but understandable english, and starts speaking a language arthur doesn't know, the babel fish translates with a british accent because that's just what's in arthur's mind.

tl;dr ford picks up languages really easily because he's got something to prove to his dead dad, he speaks english, and it confuses the hell out of arthur when he stops speaking english because the babel fish doesn't translate accents. this is one of my favorite headcanons about ford.

[punkeropercyjackson]

Related to my prev post:

I don't give two shits if Bruce is written like a bad dad if it means we get good writing for everybody else since i think minorities are more important than a white cishet male nepotism baby unlike his butch lesbian counterpart who's judaism is an actual fundamental part of her character and since he's been written as abusive so consistently over the years it's in-character anyway

Dick can be both bi/pan and demisexual and there's more evidence for the latter than the former so making him be sexually loose is aspec erasure and mspec stereotyping and he dosen't have a thing for redheads,he has a thing for black women and to me the only guy he seems to like romantically is Roy and that adds on to his demisexuality since they're childhood best friends

'Catholic guilt Jason' is a shit headcanon that misses the major and critical part of him being Red Hood that he didn't feel the slightest bit bad about killing people and the point of his redemption was learning remorse,afrolatino Jason isn't based on stereotyping but him filling out so many black and latino cultural aspects and if any hcs for him are stereotyping it's the one that he's a slut because he's a very handsome and hot and cute goth punk man

Tim is perfect the way he is and dosen't need power ups or to get 'punished' for the oh so horrible crime of being a realistic teenage boy,he's not JUST huge a loser or a super cool dude but both at once and it's bad writing and fetishistic to ignore his wide range of relathionships that consists of mostly of women to make him a 'guys guy'

Stephanie is heavily autistic and bpd-coded so she's far from a 'normie',much less an 'it girl' but people see blonde hair and blue eyes and throw away everything else about her because that's all she's worth to them or call her an abuser and a pick me just like they do irl bpdtistic women and she's also canonically pastel/indie punk and a Team Mom but gets her presentation switched to basic and made out to be a womanchild instead

Cass had a million times more moral conflict than Jason ever did,would never in her LIFE wanna be feminine even in the chinese way and would be butch in it instead,turning her scattered speech into sign language is ableist not unlike(but not on the same level as)changing Babs' type of wheelchair disability and she'd be a better Batman than any male character in existense

Duke is only a golden child in the sense he has a yellow motif and is as disruptive and authentically quirky as his siblings,We Are Robin is a better team than the canon Outlaws,his powers are cooler than any Al-Ghul ones you could come up with,he has more femme energy than Tim does and Carrie Kelley ain't shit and only gets brought back to replace him because DC is antiblack

Damian's introduction mentality was a result of not only child abuse but also psychological grooming to get him to dehumanize himself and all his bigoted comments are explained either by him being like 12 or his writers trying to demonize brown people and anybody who thinks he's a bad person is a super-sized pissbaby with no sympathy for kids of color,shipping him with Jon is making a bisexual man into a ped0phile and Jay is good even if aging Jon up wasn't and he should be friends with Maya,Suren,Nell,Colin,Kathy,Maps,Tai and Miles,Gwen,Peni,Pavitr,Hobie and Margo from Atsv and Nico and Hazel from Pjo instead of Billy Batson or Danny Fenton or ANY Mcu characters

Talia is super hot but should be drawn in accurate arab clothes instead 'sexy assasian gear'(not that these two can't co-exist but you get what i mean),her personality is extremely rich and her stories are mega interesting,she's a good mom to Damian and literally never 'took advantage of Jason' seeing as That Scene In Lost Days was decanonized by it's writer who said it was ooc for her on his part,she should've been a mom figure to Stephanie in her Robin Days too since they would get along and she deserved her own run where she takes over Lexcorp to transform it into a force for good and become Superfam-adjacent to free herself from having only male connections

[ameagrice]

Capsize

percy jackson x fem reader

chapter thirty-seven | out of the grave, into the woods.

It’s September 9th, and two days have passed since Percy. Chiron tells you to have hope; maybe he escaped before the place went kaboom. You didn’t see a body, so you should keep the hope alive. You viciously respond that no, there wouldn’t be a body if it was blown to a million pieces, would there?

You eat more than you ever have. The week that passed in the maze had been particularly busy, so much so you’d scarcely had time to eat anything proper. It’s nice to stuff your face, sitting with Annabeth in comfortable silence.

Everyone knows. Everybody knows what happened, by September 9th. Chiron holds a small meeting and explains exactly what happened to the others. Some suggest sending searchers down into the maze to continue what you couldn’t, but Chiron declines the suggestion under the excuse that it’s too dangerous as of late. Percy will turn up eventually, he concludes.

“Have faith,” he sighs, looking around the room. His eyes land on you, where you sit with folded arms and bloodshot eyes nestled between Annabeth and Travis.

It’s hard to do when your mother refuses to answer your prayers. You pray every night for Grover and Percy’s safe return, all week, every morning. You beg any god that will listen to just grant you this one thing, and allow Percy to still be breathing. A tense week passes, and at the week mark—September 14th—since you came out of the maze, hope is beginning to wane. You see it in Chiron’s face with every falsely enthusiastic speech, and in your friends. Annabeth helps you to make a new weapon in the armoury, a lean, light sword made of celestial bronze. You’re working on convincing one of the other campers to charm it to make it smaller, taking inspiration from Riptide. Convenience is key.

By September 15th, people have lost hope. A whole week of people trying to come home should have shown some signs, at least. Another week passes, with no such luck. And then a third. You barely move from the Big House, not really feeling much up to participating in activities and practice fights. You’re just getting into reading a new book, scrunched up in the chair on the porch, when Chiron approaches you, with a solemn look on his face.

“Another book?” He tries for a smile. You see right through him, raising your eyes above the line of your book. There seem to be more stress lines under his eyes. “That’s the third this week alone.”

You raise it a little higher. “I like reading. You can get lost in books pretty easy.”

“I like a good read myself,” he admits. “Maybe not three six-hundred-pagers a week, though.”

Now, you do smile. Just a little.

“I didn’t come here just to halt your peace, my dear. I wanted to talk to you about Percy, and Grover.”

Of course. It’s all anybody wants to talk about with you.

You snap shut the book and pay Chiron all your attention. “Okay.”

He eyeballs the ground for a second. “I think it’s time that we begin to build up a burial shroud for Percy, and begin the proceedings for Grover. Three weeks is…it is unlikely for them to come back to us now. A week, a week and a half at most, is the usual waiting time for heroes to return. I’ve seen this many times before, my dear. Three weeks is too long. It’s time we pay our respects to our friends.”

It’s a hard pill to swallow. You feel your heart stammer in the ribcage, tiny shooting pains going haywire. You’ve had these pains all of three weeks—Chiron calls them a reaction to stress, and grief. It’s why he encouraged so much rest, so little training. Your eyes fill with strong tears and your throat thickens.

“Okay,” you manage. A leaded weight pulls your innards down, and something else grinds them together. You feel overcome with hopelessness, a feeling alike deep and terrible sadness, gut-wrenching. You only want to cry until you can’t cry anymore.

“As Percy’s longest friend,” he continues with a hard swallow, “I wanted to ask you personally, if you’d like to create his burial shroud. As an honor to him.”

You want, in that moment, your dad. You want the comfort of a parent, even though you know you won’t get so much as a hug from him. You want home.

You ask Annabeth to help you in making Percy’s burial shroud. A heaviness settles over camp the next day, and everyone you talk to or pass by offers you a sympathetic look, a hand on the shoulder. Together, you pick out sea-green fabric, and tie in some gentle details of deeper greens and little dashes of blue. You find it in yourself to delve bravely into his left-behind cabin, and dig a seashell from the wall beside the statue of his father. It’s a creamy-pale colour, and lined with streaks of red and pale peach, engrained with bits of sand like it had just come directly from the beach. You weave a few into the fabric until your fingers are sore and pricked with blood. It’s all very factual, death and its proceedings. You find yourself zoning out, staring at the soft material in your hands and thinking of absolutely nothing, at times. Annabeth gently says your name, and pulls the needle from your bloody finger. It takes all day to make it perfect, but you finally complete the burial shroud, and tie it off with a pretty bit of creme ribbon and sea rope.

For Grover, it’s different, and Annabeth carries this one forward better than you because she’d known him for a long time, a hell of a lot longer than you knew Grover. She sits down on the sofa, and almost tears the earthy-green and gold fabric with how forcefully she grips it. Annabeth acts normally, but her lip trembles. She presses them together to stop it, reaching out to the table between you both for the needle.

By evening, just as the sun is going down and the sky is burning orange, you’re finished with Percy’s shroud, and Annabeth is finished with Grover’s. They’re not due to be burned until tomorrow evening, but Chiron said it was in everybody’s best interests to finish them sooner rather than later. It would make the process of burning them a lot easier to handle, apparently. You’re but a second away from blowing up, taking action with screaming and hacking at the strawberry fields; so, anything to lighten the situation, really.

“We should really get some food before curfew,” Annabeth set aside Grover’s shroud. “C’mon. They’ll be looking for us if we don’t turn up, and you know what Travis has been like, worrying this week.”

You huff a short laugh. “Guy hasn’t stopped.”

It was true. He’d been so attentive to your every want and thought that you felt somewhat guilty for dropping him the way you had done to accompany Percy into the maze. You felt like such a terrible friend, recently. But if Travis was holding it against you, he didn’t show it a bit. Ever the selfless.

Your stomach growls painfully, prompting you to stand and hold Percy’s shroud for another second or so, before dropping it safely next to Grover’s. The silky material slips from your fingers and hits the table carefully. The clock above the door tells you it’s nearly seven o’clock at night, and you haven’t eaten a thing since breakfast.

Annabeth is long gone by the time you force yourself to leave the room. You can see her in the distance, walking to the dining pavilion. You stop against a wall, breathing deeply and exhaling heavily, just taking in the air. It smells of pine trees and strawberries, and something warm. The sky is burnt orange and lined with golden clouds. An otherwise perfect evening, if you weren’t hearing Grover’s voice in the back of your mind.

He’s shouting your name, so distantly it feels like he isn’t even there at all. You wish you could help him. His voice grows louder, and closer. You begin up the hill just as you hear breathing—hard, heaving breathing like the person it’s coming from has ran a marathon.

You spin, somewhat startled, and your jaw drops so hard you think it might have landed in Tartarus. “G—GROVER?!” He’s really here. Really! With sweaty hair, missing a sleeve of his jacket, but he’s here in person. Grover is alive. “Holy cows. Holy cows. Holy cows—”

“I did pray to some holy cows, actually,” he nods out of breath. Grover puts his hands on his hips, tilting his head back. The sun is setting very quickly, and really it’s nothing special tonight compared to every other night, but to Grover, it must be amazing.

All the breath he gets back in his lungs is swiftly knocked right back out again. You lunge for him, the relief falling like a heaviness from your shoulders. Grover is a little bonier under your hugging arms than the last time you were together, but he’s in one piece and here in front of you, and it’s more than you could ask for given the circumstances.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you breathe. With your heart beating ten-to-the-dozen, it’s difficult to discern whether you’re about to have a heart attack, or if you’re developing some sort of condition from all the scares. “Really. It’s good to see you.”

He’s shocked. Of course he is; you’ve barely shown even camaraderie towards Grover before. You think it might be time to change your tune.

“I wasn’t sure you’d gotten out,” he sighed, pulling back. “I’m so sorry for leaving the two of you, but look—I found him. I really did. I found Pan.”

You blanch. Not solely from his insinuation that both you and Percy got out, but that he found what he’d been looking for. You can’t help smiling.

“Really? You’re sure?”

“One hundred percent!”

“We should go tell Chiron, then.”

Heaviness settles in your gut the closer you get to the dining pavilion. You figured that’s where Chiron will be—eating like nothing’s wrong. You haven’t eaten properly in days.

Everybody is seated by the time you arrive. Chiron is, as you’d guessed, at the table and eating as well. It must be the movement from the corner of his eye that turns his head to face you, and it’s a result: he sees Grover; tired, drooping-at-the-shoulders Grover. Chiron stands so abruptly that the table shrieks, the legs scraping against the floor, and campers groan and cover their ears, turning to face the commotion. They follow the leader’s direction, and see him too. The sky is burning, the clouds on fire, and fire in the heart flickers.

A great deal of clamour comes next. It’s all very factual, in the after. They yell Grover’s name and people come running, some in relief, some in disbelief, and some in excitement.

He eats his heart out at the head table, and nobody bothers him. You sit together and for a little while you laugh. Annabeth smiles so hard her cheeks must hurt, and the three of you manage to relieve the last few days and weeks with some joy, especially now Grover has found what he’d been looking for.

It doesnt change the fact that you go to bed with a heavy heart and a sorrowful stomach, and don’t get a wink of good sleep, tossing and turning until the cows come home. When morning comes, you’re sore-eyed and sore of heart, dressing in jeans and a sweatshirt despite the warmth of camp itself. On a day where all eyes will be on you, it’s comforting to feel somewhat sheltered by sleeves and neckline.

You don’t eat breakfast, though your stomach grumbles and whines, and you can barely manage to get a glass of apple juice down. People are casting you looks from every table, because they all know what you’re about to do. After all, his burial shroud is only metres away, folded neatly in a small box before the open fire pit.

Finally, after breakfast of little words to anybody, Chiron smiles somewhat skewedly and directs everyone to crowd at the pit. A few girls from the Aphrodite cabin are crying crocodile tears, pretending they’re oh-so-sad over the loss of Percy, though they haven’t spoken to him before, or if they have—only to ridicule him for tripping during track, or letting an arrow fly too early. Silly little things really, that make Percy, Percy. And you miss him.

You barely notice that Chiron is speaking until he’s finished. The soft blue is in your hands, palms up to the sky. You hope they’re watching.

It smells of smoke that will stick to your hair and clothes, of flames that burn your hands even this far out. Orange, yellow, and wicked red all dancing together in the grate like it’s a terrible little party just for Percy.

You have to clear your throat out hard, it having been in disuse since yesterday. Sets of eyes are on you, big and waiting. A few Aphrodite girls are pulling sneering expressions, because they’re not fans of other girls being the centre of attention.

“Uh—well,” you start, wondering why on earth you hadn’t prepared something earlier. There’s a hard lump in your throat, rolling around and around and around and you think you might choke on it. “Percy was my best friend. He meant a lot to all of us, a great deal, actually. I can’t think of one moment where Percy…”

And suddenly you can’t think at all. There’s pressure behind your eyes burning away like the fire in the grate. Your stomach hurts because you’re so hungry you’re starving. The brain fog because of this is alarming, and you can feel the casual facade start to falter. Why can’t you find the words.

You cough a jarring laugh. Annabeth whispers your name from just the front row, moving to get in your line of vision, concerned. She’s upset but she’s holding it together much better than you are.

The blue in your hands is beginning to absorb the sweat from your skin. “Percy was…there are no words. I think his actions said more, anyway, if I’m honest. Truth be told,” you finally look up from your shaking hands, “truth be told, those of us who knew Percy properly already knew that. Percy was just—”

When you lift your eyes just behind the crowd, you begin to notice something strange. A figure. A boy, in immaculate clothing and tanned like he’d just spent a week at the beach. His shirt is ironed and crisp, and a thin circle of white shells is clasped around a wrist.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Annabeth urges. Her voice shakes when she carefully pulls you aside. “You don’t have to do this. It isn’t fair.”

But your eyes are stuck glued to the boy getting closer, so close that you can make out the green of the eyes you’d recognise absolutely anywhere.

“He’s right there.”

“I know, it’s fine, I can take this.”

She attempts to pry the material from you, but you’re not having it. Clenched in your fists, you nod to the distance, as the lightheaded feeling grows.

“Percy’s here. Percy’s here.”

Heads turn. Bodies shift. Chiron moves through the crowd and pales considerably because he sees what you see. At last, people gasp, people yell out, people rush forward to surround him. But he only has eyes for you, and they’re glossy ones at that.

Your head spins. “Dear god, I think I need to sit down.”

And indeed, down you go.

—

This chapter’s title is taken from the song ‘the let go’ by Elle King. https://youtu.be/RcnUJTIyjXs?si=HO1lzccJfsaF6SbQ (1.18 seconds)

Taglist:

@bl6o6dy @embersparklz @lilyevanswhore @rottenstyx @rory-cakes @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @marshmallow12435 @lantsovheiress @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @twsssmlmaa @gayandfairycore @padsfirewhisky @emu281 @charlesswife @jessiegerl @tojismassivemantiddies @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @nothankyou138 @obxstiles @mxltifxnd0m @cxcillia @itzjustj-1000 @sp00kcanwrite @randomesthings @fratbrochrisgf @prongsflower @bugszi

[onevolon]

clandestine

Duke Leto Atreides x afab!reader

summary: Looking for a suitor for your sister. Arrangement are being made for a ball. Every planet is invited. He is invited.

word count: 1,628

warnings: this was supposed to be a smut but whoopsss fluffy angst it is

you can also read it on ao3.

masterlist

The wine tasted bitter on your tongue. Early drinking was not a usual habit of yours but today was different.

Marriage. It is a foreign concept to you, much to your advisors’ dismay. It is frowned upon to be a queen without a husband in many planets, of course, but not in yours. No, this is your blood right. As it was written in the legends. The power you hold cannot be shared with a man.

Your little sister, on the other hand, had a much different destiny to be uphold. She had to be wedded. Soon. As it was written…

Now, it was your duty to look for a suitor for your little sister. There had to be a ball to be thrown. Every royal man of age was invited to the ball. From every planet.

Including Caladan.

The preparations were suffocating you to the point of madness. Yes, the preparations… Everything had to be perfect.

“Is the dress to your liking, my queen?”

“Yes, it’s fine…”

“How about your hair? I warned them not to make it too tight this time specifically, as you requested.”

“It’s alright.”

“…If you don’t mind me asking, my queen, what is bothering you?”

“Hmm?”

“Just… You seem… thoughtful.”

You take a gulp from your wine. Is it wise to talk about this? After all, she is my right-hand for a reason. Maybe… one person knowing this would be beneficial for you and finally ease your mind…

“I-“

There is a knock on the door.

“Yes?”

“All the guests have arrived, my queen. They are resting in their chambers for now.”

“Good. We shall start the festivities when the sun is down.”

The man bows and exits the room.

“Where is my sister. I would like to speak with her before the gathering.”

“She’s getting ready, my queen. The bathing ritual just started. Everything is according to the schedule.”

Yes, everything is as it’s planned. The ballroom is set. My sister is alright. People from near and far travelled to attend. They all are here.

He’s here.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes.

He is here for his son, you remind yourself.

This is going to be a long evening.

**

With the cue from the orchestra, the doors are open and both you and your sister come into view. The whole room goes quiet, only the instruments are heard. And maybe your heartbeats.

It’s absolutely maddening that you are more nervous than your sister. She looks so calm and collected while everybody is trying to get a look of her.

Soon to be bride. Something inside you saddens. Your little, precious sister…

The music gets quiet. You must focus.

“Greetings and welcome! It is such an honor to see you all here today. Please do enjoy the food and the music. Let’s celebrate this happy day together and shall your visit be fruitful!”

While everybody is cheering, you can feel your speechwriter’s eyes on you, sending daggers for cutting his well-written script short.

You could care less right now.

“Shall we sit now?” you sigh.

“Are you okay, sister? You seem off.”

“For the last time, you should address me properly in public. Especially today, sister.” you smirk slightly.

“Oh, give me a break.” you give her a side-eye “…my queen. I’m about to be thrown into the lion's den. It’s a miracle I didn’t have a nervous breakdown yet.”

“You and me both…”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

You both finally sit to your table and everybody starts to eat.

**

After all the tables are cleared, everybody gathers to dance. As you make your way around the room to welcome everyone again and thank them for attending, some are introducing their candidates to you and some are eager to talk to your sister first. Old and young, so many people…

This was overwhelming.

“That was a nice speech, my queen.”

His voice… still sends shivers to your spine after all these years.

You turn around to scold him for teasing you.

Then you see his son.

And his concubine.

“And it is nice to see you, my duke.”

“We’ve already talked to your sister but I wanted to introduce my son to you personally.”

Ever the diplomatic, you think to yourself.

“This is Paul Atreides. The future of House Atreides and Caladan.”

“It is an honor to meet you, your grace.”

He looks like his mother.

“The honor is mine. How do you find your visit so far?”

You try to ignore both parents’ stares.

“It’s absolutely perfect here. Everything is breathtakingly beautiful…” he says, sending a look to your sister discreetly.

Your stomach drops.

“I’m glad you like it. If you’ll excuse me…”

Without a second look, you cautiously get away from them, grabbing a glass of whatever the waiter was serving at the moment.

You need to breathe.

**

The wind was blowing your hair gently. The stone bench you were sitting was cool to the touch. You took slow deliberate inhales to think clear. To make it make sense of your sudden action. Why were you so upset?

You sigh and close your eyes, trying to listen the calming sounds of the environment.

You hear footsteps.

“Whoever you are, you shouldn’t be here. This is a private section of the garden.”

“My apologies. Just wanted to make sure that you are all-right.”

Your eyes snap open.

He followed you.

“Is your wife okay with that?” you say, a little passive-aggressive.

He comes closer to you and stops at your side.

“We can invite her, too, if you like.” he says looking at you with a knowing expression “And you know she is not my wife.”

You don’t know how to handle his directness.

Not anymore, you don’t.

So, you change the subject.

“Your son has grown a lot since-“

“His birth. Yes, it tends to happen.” He chuckles.

You roll your eyes to his antics.

“I am trying to make a conversation here, you know.”

“I know… I’m sorry. It’s always been so easy to rile you up.”

You glare at him.

“You don’t know me.”

His face drops a little.

You can’t look at it. Change the subject.

“I’ll talk to my sister about Paul, soon. It seems like he’s smitten but her decision will be what is final.” You want to slap yourself.

He stays quite for a while. You can feel that his eyes have not left your face.

“And what do you think?”

“About?”

“About them… Being together.”

You don’t know what to say.

“Because I don’t even like the idea of it.”

“What, you think I would make a bad relative?” You joke slightly, not to overthink his meaning.

“No… it’s because I want you all to myself.”

 Your heart flips.

“Leto-“

He touches your face and your eyes find his.

“My sweet... Your beauty always mesmerizes me.”

His eyes… So sincere.

You panic.

“You cannot say things like that… You can’t expect me to- What do you expect me to do?”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Nothing has changed since we were…”

“Some things have changed… I don’t care anymore.” He says triumphantly.

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t care about what I have to do to satisfy others’ needs and before you interrupt, you know that I’m not saying this as a leader.”

You stay quiet and follow his determined eyes with yours.

“I don’t know about you but I refuse to believe that it is my destiny to be filled with sorrow until the end of my days. So, to achieve true happiness, I must focus on what I can do to get what I want. And what I want is to be able to choose to love freely without being concerned about what they would think.”

He sighs and sits right beside you, taking your hands in his.

“I know it’s been years but I’ve never stopped thinking about you.”

You hold your breath.

“I never stopped loving you, my dove.”

A tear drops to your face. He lifts a hand and brushes it away with his thumb.

“We were so young… So scared to stand up for ourselves.” He says still caressing your cheek. “But we don’t need to fear no more. They will fear us.”

This must be a dream.

To convince yourself that it’s real, you turn your head and kiss his palm. The sweet parfum on his wrist engulfs your senses.

He turns your head to him and kisses you.

“Do you reciprocate my love?” he whispers against your lips.

You nod, still crying.

“My sweet…”

His lips are soft against yours while his tongue starts to dance slowly. You could feel the warmth of his body as he drew even closer. A fire brew inside of you. Both of you are desperate to make up for every second of lost time. You chocked noise escaped you as he snaked a hand under your skirt, caressing your leg. Dizzy with want you tangle your fingers in his salt and pepper locks as his lips moved down your neck. You are melting under his touch.

“Not-hmmhere… someone could…”

“Thought this section of the garden was private.” You can feel his smirk.

“That didn’t faze you, did it?”

“And aren’t you glad?” he whispered as he kissed the tear marks on your cheek.

“I am.”

You were now face to face, smiling softly.

“We should go back inside.”

“Yes, but we also need to talk about this.”

He was right, as usual.

“…Come to my chambers at dawn. You know where to find it.”

He lifted an eyebrow to that, giving you a suggestive look.

You try to ignore it.

“Everybody would be passed out drunk at that point so…”

He kisses your hand.

“I’ll be there, my dove.”

do you want a part 2 with a smut???

[macbethheadband]

Macbeth cope list

What a lovely theatre it was so beautiful in there the CEILING was so nice. The chairs were comfy too. Uh the walls? They were great also. And the floors were walkable no doubt about it

No problems with the headphones at all except for early on when they all started dancing and jumping around the sound went nuts and the music got really staticy. Not sure if we just got a fritzy night or if thats a problem theyve consistently dealt with. The second the dancing stopped though it was fine again so!

Thats a big part of what really impressed me with the sound too it felt like you could really hear how tightly controlled it was and how much attention to detail theyd put into it with switching peoples mics on and off and adjusting volume when they shouted and looping and overlaying voices. And the sound effects worked really well!!! Incredibly effective and immersive. Sidenote a lady sat in front of us was like oh theres headphones? What are these for? Like i forgot not everybody has dedicated their lives to seeing this play and knows all about it

One downside might be that the audience cant hear themselves so theres a lot of coughing and sneezing and snuffling and snorfing and at one point someones alarm went off and when macduff was doing his all my pretty chickens moment someone was genuinely hacking up a lung behind us. I wonder if thats annoying for the actors LOL i hope the donmar proshot doesnt have a lot of that in the final mix because ill just die

LOVED the use of the glass partition the way theyd have everyone seated in a row and delivering the sort of expositiony lines like i said before. Especially in the second half of macbeth theres a lot of back and forth between lots of short scenes so i really liked the way they dealt with that it never lost momentum. And when they opened the glass and started CLIMBING OUT that was so great

Actually a favourite element was how everyone would start climbing onto the stage and crawling towards macbeth and grasping out at him that was so DELICIOUSLY creepy. Shout out to rona morrison who played lady macduff the woman with the red hair in braids she would crack this extremely unsettling smile whenever she went witchy mode and my eye was always drawn to her.

I have so many macbeths to compare this to bc i watched so many this year and this one is up there as a favourite for sure. I think the descent into madness is hard to do in a way that feels natural and not hammy but we can HEAR the voices in their heads and feel the pressure they feel as everything goes weird around them and the guilt starts to eat at them. I believed it i really did!! The sort of Snap the shift between when hes seeing the dagger versus when duncans dead and hes covered in blood again. YAYYY!!!!! I especially believed his speech about banquo that sort of escalation drawn out by paranoia when hes like make THEM kings???? The SONS of banquo. KINGS??? its like here we go girls…

Also comparing it to all the other macbeths i saw its SO GOOD to have an all scottish cast LOL it really is crazy how that simple change adds so so much

Cush jumbo and her big bright eyes HER EYESSSS shes a very powerful glowy presence in her white dress i loved the way she did this sort of gesture like shes having a migraine paired with the sound and the lights sort of getting keyed up and the ghostly child behind them both and the way she did the out damned spot WAIL and how she said come come give me your hand down low and sweet like to a little kid oh my god…

Im jumping around a lot but the porter was really fun and the way they really harshly snap back into the world of the play after it was really cool like the whole scene was all in HIS head too mmmm

I love when its funny GENUINE comedy like hahaha laughing out loud. It was a rough night! So annoying when you know it could be funny but the actors like nah this is serious business or my name isnt sir kenneth charles branagh. Lets have a giggle mate it makes the frightening parts scarier it makes the tragedy more depthful lets experience the range of human emotions together come on lets go

I just want to keep saying things that worked like the music worked the lights worked the smoke worked the bit where everyones being the witches worked the one child actor playing all the children worked the banquos ghost scene REALLY worked you have DISPLACED the MIRTH the idea that the two of them are carrying a lot of baggage from war and the loss of a child really REALLY works. I think thats the best compliment i can give it like theres nothing i feel like didnt achieve what they were going for or fell short. Im really really impressed by it super super super pleased for everyone for bringing the vision to life so clearly and effectively

David tennant was really good

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

World's Best Dad: Graduation

Summary: It's Gracie's graduation day and a certain Winchester is in his feels about his baby girl not being a baby anymore...

World’s Best Dad Masterlist

Pairing: single parent!Dean x kindergarten teacher!reader

Word Count: 3,000ish

Warnings: language, mention of a car accident

A/N: Enjoy!

_________

It was early on the June Saturday morning. You sighed when you rolled over and found the other side of the bed was empty. Today was Gracie’s day and while she was more than excited, Dean had been dreading this day for months.

Because today she was graduating from high school and in his eyes, his little girl wouldn’t need him ever again after today. It didn’t matter how many times you told him that wasn’t true. Dean was convinced today was the start of the end.

You shook your head and climbed out of bed, wrapping one of his flannels around yourself before you tiptoed downstairs. Unsurprisingly, he was standing on the back porch with a cup of coffee in hand, watching the light rain shower come down.

But the thing that made you pause was that Gracie was standing beside him, her shoulders moving as she spoke with her hands. She gave him a hug he tightly returned, making her small body look even tinier wrapped up in him. She said something else as he nodded, kissing the top of her head and then she was coming inside, Dean giving you a smile through the back door.

“Morning, munchkin,” you said when she pulled the door shut after herself. “Sleep okay?”

“Yeah.” She lazily gave you a hug, resting her head on your shoulder. “I told daddy to relax but you know how he is.”

“Yes I do,” you said, running a hand over her head. “You don’t need to worry about him. That’s my job.”

“Our job,” she said. “Remind him I’m literally going to college on the other side of town, not the country. You guys will still see me all the time.”

“I know,” you said, rubbing her back. “Why don’t you go shower and then we can do your hair how you want it, okay?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, giving you one last squeeze. “Are we still going to camp tomorrow?”

“Yup. Now go start getting ready,” you said, letting her peel away. “And Gracie?”

“Yeah?” she asked, looking all kinds of innocent in her AC/DC shirt and pink shorts. 

“You relax too. It’s your graduation day. You have a party to look forward to this afternoon on top of that whole being done with school thing,” you teased. She sighed and nodded. “Don’t worry about the speech.”

“It’s like my punishment for doing well in school. Get the best grades? Congrats. Go give a speech in front of everybody. I wish I was dumber sometimes.” You laughed, pushing her over towards the stairs.

“Oh, munchkin. I knew you were going to be top of your class back in kindergarten. You have some idiots in your class,” you laughed. 

“I am well aware,” she said, heading upstairs, promising not to use all the hot water which was as unlikely as you winning lottery. You went to the back door, finding Dean still on the porch.

“How we doing, honey?” you asked, approaching his side and wrapping you arms around his waist. He sighed heavily, resting his head on your shoulder, so very much like Gracie had a moment ago.

“She’s not a little girl anymore. I miss when she was a sassy little shit making us fall in love,” he said softly, a smile in his voice.

“That child is still a sassy little shit,” you said, Dean chuckling. “Can I give you some advice? As a daughter with a pretty good relationship with my own dad the past decade?”

“Give it to me,” he said, lifting his head, spinning you in his arms, holding you to his chest.

“Little girls turn into women. Those women have careers and fall in love and have their hearts broken. They drink and curse and have amazing sex and shitty sex and will make so many mistakes in life they’re going to wonder when they become a real adult for a long time until they realize all of us are faking it.” Dean cocked his head, brushing your messy hair behind your ear. “But that woman…she’ll always need her dad. When she needs to vent, when she’s scared, when she needs advice on how the fuck to handle adult life. Gracie’s a young woman now and she’s going to change a whole lot over the next four years just like she did in high school and middle school and elementary school. She’ll be a grown woman but she’s always going to be your little girl. Now she just gets to be your friend too.”

He bit his bottom lip, uncurling it so it fell into a smile, pecking a kiss on your lips.

“I like that. I’m okay with being friends too,” he said, swaying you side to side. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a smart cookie?”

“Well between us, this really hot guy has told me I know a thing or two before,” you said. His eyebrows raised, chin lifting.

“I bet he says things like he was in his head this morning and you just used that magic to make him feel excited about all the new things he gets to do in life with his daughter now, huh?”

“He’s a very good communicator when it comes to praising me,” you said, Dean’s smile turning dirty. “But I think he likes when I tell him how good he is even better.”

“He does like that,” he said, curling into your touch when you traced under his jaw. “Want to go tell me how good and loved I am and make me squirm?”

“Alas, we have a teenage girl getting ready for her graduation inside and she has a habit of walking into our room unannounced. Still.”

He chuckled, brushing his lips over your ear. “Alright. But when the kids are having their party, you and I can sneak off for an hour and have a Baby date, hm?”

“Dirty boy,” you teased, squeezing his ass. “I like it.”

“Me too,” he said, kissing your forehead. “Alright. Let’s go show off our little valedictorian.”

You smiled at Dean and the three slightly bored children sat beside him as you walked across the stage two hours later. You stopped at the podium, adjusting your gown for a split second before clearing your throat.

“Good morning everyone. Students. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Mrs. Winchester, a kindergarten teacher at the school district. For these students up here, most of you know me as Gracie’s mom,” you said, getting a quiet chuckle out of the crowd. Dean gave you a thumbs up, a light blush on your face. “I had the privilege of teaching a number of you all the way back in kindergarten if you guys can remember that long ago. Gavin, Derek. Nice to see you guys aren’t arguing over the same blue chair anymore.”

That one got a louder laugh, as you looked at the students, offering a smile.

“Normally we as teachers attempt to offer a bit of advice as you all go on to a new part of your lives. But I’m going to tell you all a secret instead. It’s a secret your parents all know and have never told you. See, adults don’t know as much as you guys think we do. Like we really do not have a clue,” you said, the crowd chuckling. “We’ve just had more time to make mistakes and figure out what works and what doesn’t for us. We’re all still on that journey and it’s a journey you all get to go on now. Be patient with yourselves in the future because anyone will tell you, it’s going to turn out differently than think it will. But that’s the fun of life too. Sometimes you’re a twenty four year old trying to figure out her new job and how to get two boys to stop fighting over the same blue chair literally every day the entire school year when there were twelve of the exact same chair-”

“Mrs. Winchester it was the special chair though!” called out Gavin, several other students nodding in agreement.

“You’re only telling me this now?” you joked, another laugh rippling through the crowd. “Needless to say, you may go to work single one day and then you might have a five year old set you up with her dad on the next.” 

Gracie was giving you a death glare but you saw a tiny smile underneath it.

“Point being, life’s going to happen fast and it’s going to get messy. Have fun. Enjoy the mess. You don’t know where it’ll lead you,” you said, lifting your chin. “Now I’d like to introduce this year’s valedictorian to you all. She’s a bright student, talented volleyball player, was in more clubs than I could count and she has a reputation among her teachers of always being helpful and kind. And as much as I’ve loved being able to watch all of you grow over the years, I’m a little bit biased and have to say she’s been my favorite. Gracie Winchester, come on up, kiddo.”

She still looked nervous, eyes locked on you, ignoring the clapping as she crossed the stage to meet you at the podium.

“Dad’s in the fourth row. Just look at him if you get scared,” you whispered in her ear as she nodded.

“Thanks mom,” she said, giving you a quick hug. You sat back in your seat off to the side with the other teachers, Mr. Colt leaning over in your ear.

“There’s a bet going on if there’s going to be tears,” he mumbled as Gracie shuffled her papers around.

“No way in hell, dude,” you laughed lightly.

“Oh not on you. Dean. Buy in’s five bucks that he does.”

“I’m not an idiot to take that bet,” you said, curious when Gracie stared at her papers and suddenly flipped them over.

“Hi,” she said, voice a tad higher than usual. “So I wrote a speech and everything but I think I want to go off script instead.”

She didn’t bother to turn back and check with the faculty that she could. Her speech had to be approved a few weeks back so you were interested where this was going.

“For the love of god, Y/N, tell me she isn’t going to drop an f-bomb in this,” said Mike, the high school principal sat directly behind you.

“Oh she wouldn’t dare do that. Let her break a rule for once and see what happens,” you said, Gracie gripping both side of the podium.

“At the start of last summer, I was in a car accident with my dad. A lot of my friends know this. The whole school knew but I never told anyone how bad it was. We almost died actually,” she said, Mike leaning forward. 

“Y/N, please tell me this isn’t going to get morbid…” 

“Shh,” you shushed him. Gracie inhaled sharply, putting on a smile.

“Normally in that kind of accident, my injuries would have been much worse, even fatal sometimes, but my dad put his arm in front of me to protect me the only way he could in that split second. I got hurt but I was okay. He ended up breaking that arm quite badly. He was in different casts and braces for close to five months. He was in physical therapy for nine. His arm is still covered in scars. Only recently has he been able to lift the things he used to, work out the way he once did.”

The room was dead silent, Gracie nodding to herself.

“He’s just a man,” she said softly. “He can be hurt. He’s not superman. Our parents, our families…no one’s indestructible. But I think my mom made a good point when she said to enjoy the mess. Life is going to mess with us wether it’s car accidents or our careers or getting our hearts broken. It’s going to get really messy for us really soon. But I think that’s a good thing. My life’s been messy already but good things came out of it. I know my dad might not be superman but he’ll do his best to be that for me always. I know my mom is as scared of public speaking as I am but she volunteered to go before me today to show me it’s no big deal. I know that my dad used to have a fake smile he’d wear for me because he thought I deserved a much better life and father than him.”

Your eyes skirted to find Dean in the crowd, his gaze locked on Gracie, his eyes wet but otherwise his composure solid.

“He was twenty eight years old and he was wrong about that by the way,” she said, giving him her know it all smirk, Dean grinning as he nodded back. “We’re only seventeen and eighteen years old. If people a decade older, two decades, more, are making mistakes, then we definitely are going to. It’s okay that we do. I can’t wait to make them and think the world is ending. We should all make mistakes so we can figure out what we want in life and find the good stuff instead. At the end of the day, I think the good stuff is all that matters. We don’t need supermans in our lives. Just good people. Plus we all know Batman is cooler and he’s just a dude.”

The crowd laughed, Dean smiling proudly, Gracie raising her chin.

“Want to make a mistake with me later dad?” she asked, a mischievous smile on her pink lips. He laughed deeply and nodded.

“Why the hell not?” he said. 

“Alright,” she said. “I’ll hold you to it. So…” she looked over at you, shrugging. “I’m done.”

“Why did I get into education? Even the good ones scare the shit out of me,” mumbled Mike as he stood and put on a smile. Gracie scooted back to her seat with a round of applause, Colt leaning over.

“Always knew the kid showing up to first grade in band shirts was going to turn out fucking awesome,” he whispered. You grinned, blushing as you looked at your lap. “Dean’s never let me say it to his face but I’ve met a lot of dads over the years. He’s one of the best. Those kids are lucky to have him, and you.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly. “Now tell me who lost in the betting pool.”

The Next Morning

“She is conked out,” said Dean at the highway rest stop. Gracie was passed out in the backseat while you let Chase and the twins stretch their legs over their breakfast sandwiches nearby. You grinned behind your sunglasses as you leaned against the SUV, Dean smirking back as he replaced the cap on the gas tank. “What?”

“I’m just so honored to be in the presence of the best dad like, ever.” He groaned, letting you wrap your arms around his trim waist. “She really fucking loves you, you know. She’s going to be calling you up when she’s fifty years old asking for help. World’s best dad right here.”

“Stop it!” he laughed. “You teased me all of yesterday. You going to torture me today too?”

“You like when I torture you,” you chuckled, batting your eyelashes at him. “It’s payback for not telling me what this mistake Gracie wants to make with you is.”

“Oh it’s nothing too bad. She just wanted to know if we could go get tattoos together.” You raised your eyebrows, Dean pursing his lips. “Mom’s cool with that?”

“It’s her body, honey and she is legally an adult. We told her last night no more curfew, no more a lot of rules. We need to let her start making those mistakes,” you said, Dean smiling softly at you. “But I mean she is a Winchester. I’d be more surprised if she didn’t want a tattoo.”

“She just wants a little dog paw on the inside of her wrist for Toby,” he said.

“She loved him so much. I love that idea,” you said. “We should get another dog. Feels a little too calm in the house the past six months.”

“Let’s look into it in the fall. Maybe a little surprise present for the kiddos,” he said, letting you trace your fingers over the scars on his right arm. “I was thinking of covering it up. Doctor’s say I’m fully healed, no more surgeries needed.”

“You can. Scars don’t bother me though,” you said, Dean watching you dance your fingers up and down. “Just no face tattoos. That’s where I draw the line.”

“Oh well now I have to,” he laughed, nuzzling your cheek as he hugged you. “What about flowers? I can get one for each of the kids and then you’ll have the biggest one obviously cause you’re the momma.”

“On your face?” you laughed, Dean rolling his eyes.

“My arm, smart ass. I’d much rather look down and see a reminder of why I’d get scars in the first place rather than the scars.” You rested your forehead against his shoulder, Dean rubbing your back. 

“Okay. But I’d like you to think of something small I can get for you and the kids. The papa gets protected in this family too.” He hummed, inhaling the scent of your shampoo.

“Thank you for reminding me of that all those years ago,” he whispered. 

“Always.” You heard a groan and spotted Gracie sitting up in her seat, her braid messy as she stared with narrowed eyes. “Well good morning our princess of darkness.”

“So loud,” she grumbled, opening the car door and sliding out. “I’m hungry.”

“Not surprising considering you survived off of cake and chips yesterday,” chuckled Dean. “Come on. Let’s go get you a breakfast sandwich and a coffee. That’ll perk you right up.”

“Coffee?” she asked, following him as they headed towards the rest stop.

“Oh you’re a Winchester. You’re gonna love coffee,” he said. You smiled as you watched them go, resting your head against the SUV.

You didn’t have time to be sad though, Olivia running over and saying the boys stole her hashbrowns.

“Maybe you guys being adults won’t be so bad,” you laughed to yourself. “Someday.”

___________

[nytehavyn-circle]

When I was younger, I avoided getting involved in politics. Politics sent my dad into, well, basically a rage. He'd get so pissed and rant about shit for hours.

So, I avoided politics with him because I didn't want to be drawn into a shouting match.

As I've grown older, changed, become a different person, grown mentally and emotionally, and hopefully become a little wiser, I've gotten more into the political side of life.

Especially when Donald Trump came on the scene.

When all of this shit first started with him years ago, I listened, I watched, and I couldn't believe this motherfucker was running for president. What's worse, I was actually shocked and dismayed that people were talking about voting for him.

Now, I wasn't exactly a fan of Hillary, but at least I knew by listening, watching, and reading what was going on, that she'd run this country better than Trump.

What I thought couldn't happen did... Trump won. All because people who didn't like Trump OR Hillary started voting third party, or didn't vote at all.

"I don't like either candidate" is not a valid fucking excuse for not voting, especially NOW. EVERYBODY, but his cult, and Republicans, know Trump is a fucking psychopath. He's a sociopath. He's a racist, a misogynist, a fucking Nazi, a white supremacist "Christian" nationalist.

I don't give a good goddamn whether you like Kamala or not (which is fair). A lot of people don't like Biden (which is also fair). But NOT voting for Kamala because you don't like her means a vote for Trump. If you remain "undecided," you're an ass. If you vote for Trump, get the fuck away from me and forget I exist. If you vote third party, you're an idiot. If you vote for anyone BUT Kamala - I could not care less whether you like her or not - you are voting for a complete downfall of this country.

Kiss your body autonomy completely goodbye if you're a woman. If you vote for Trump, his "people" will probably succeed in getting the 19th Amendment repealed - which gives women the right to vote.

Goodbye, any and all protections (of which there are already too few) protections for transgender people. Goodbye, the Respect For Marriage Act.

Hello, Dictator Trump. The man has already directly stated he would be a dictator from day one and has publicly stated that people would never have to vote again if he is elected...

The man is fucking unhinged. Have you heard his fucking speeches? They devolve into nonsensical rants. He spews even more lies than he did before.

If you do not vote for Kamala, simply because you "don't like her", you're a fucking idiot. No, I'm not sorry.

Not all of her policies are good. But she'll run this country better than Trump - she won't destroy our freedoms or our democracy. She'll keep the country together as best as she can.

Stop with the "undecided voter" bullshit, because it's way too close to the election to still be undecided, and stop with wanting to vote third party or independent or anything of the sort. Stop letting one issue - Palestine (of which pretty much all of us are united about and worried about and concerned about) - dictate your decision about whether or not you vote for Kamala. (And you can argue all you wish, but that's the issue too many fucking voters have with her which is why they're reluctant to vote for her - because if you think Donald Trump cares, you're fucking stupid.)

Vote for Kamala. Whether you like her or not.

At least we'll get to keep our fucking country.