#finished on the 19th like the last one

[kazeharuhime]

Spiralan Porali

Also called the Furheartian Spiratil, the Spiralan Porali is considered a lost relative of the Spotil family. Its taste is like a cross between a sweet potato and an apple, with a slightly nutty, cinnamon-like undertone. It was considered lost largely due to the fact that the last known mention of it was in a record documenting the return of the Flower Buddys, and while the Porali has remained in the word of mouth knowledge of sailors who frequent Furheart Iiah, it was not properly identified until very recently, as its mention in the record was brief and without detail, as if it was a plant already familiar to the audience. One of the illustrations in the record depicted what was assumed to be a Porali in a line with several other plants that have yet to be identified, but as the nature of the record was to describe historical events and not flora, the connection between the illustration and the Porali plant was tentative at best. It was only on a recent expedition that the plant was found and officially titled Spiralan Porali, but according to additional evidence, it is possible that the Porali mentioned in the record has yet to be uncovered.

[cuz-reasons]

What if I exploded? What then?

[roaringroa]

only 2 more days of this and then i can chill and spend a few days thinking strictly about yuri manga and hay day all day long like god intended

[infiniteglitterfall]

A Chabad synagogue in Pomona, New York, burned to the ground on April 17th, along with its three Torah scrolls.

Torah scrolls are hand-written, hand-made, and kept in elaborately decorated cases or wrappings.

Many of them have long histories; my synagogue has two, I think, that were smuggled out of villages being destroyed in pogroms or in Nazi attacks. One of them is the only remaining piece of that village on earth.

Sometimes, the Torah scroll doesn't even belong to the synagogue, but is on loan from a place like the Memorial Scrolls Trust:

There's an entire Jewish holiday just for taking them out and dancing with them: Simchat Torah, "The Joy of Torah."

In fact, that was the holiday on which Hamas's invasion took place.

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So it's a particular tragedy when a Torah is destroyed.

Chabad itself has a page about what goes into making just one Torah scroll:

"An authentic Torah scroll is a mind-boggling masterpiece of labor and skill. Comprising between 62 and 84 sheets of parchment -- cured, tanned, scraped and prepared according to exacting Torah law specifications -- and containing exactly 304,805 letters, the resulting handwritten scroll takes many months to complete.

"An expert pious scribe carefully inks each letter with a feather quill, under the intricate calligraphic guidelines of Ktav Ashurit (Ashurite Script). The sheets of parchment are then sewn together with sinews to form one long scroll. While most Torah scrolls stand around two feet in height and weigh 20-25 pounds, some are huge and quite heavy, while others are doll-sized and lightweight."

I learned all of this on Tumblr.

Once upon time, in people's "punch Nazis" days, I would've been able to find some mention on Tumblr of this synagogue burning.

There is none, so I'm posting about it.

And I'm going to quote Daniel Weiner, Rabbi of Temple de Hirsch Sinai in Bellevue, Washington, when his own synagogue was vandalized last November:

"It’s horrific and heartbreaking.... [Taking out your feelings about] what's going on in the Middle East by defacing a sacred space of a synagogue -- that’s the very definition of antisemitism."

I'm also posting about the Kehillat Shaarei Torah Synagogue in Toronto, whose windows were broken on Friday, April 19th, by someone who also tried to break the front door down.

And the April 15 graffiti outside a Bangor, Maine synagogue that said, "Nazi Israel 30K murdered," next to a crossed-out Star of David. The same synagogue faced pro-Hamas flyers plastered around it in November.

I was going to include all the synagogues vandalized over the past six months. But there are way too many. Several every week. Lots are swastikas.

I'll go back to just doing attacks on and near synagogues.

Someone has to talk about the 1-year-old who was stabbed outside Temple Beth Zion-Beth Israel (BZBI) synagogue, in Philadelphia, on April 13th.

The foiled terrorist attack on a Moscow synagogue on April 11th.

The man who, on April 9th, screamed at the rabbi at Moldova's Great Synagogue, "What are you doing here? How come no one has finished you off for everything you are doing to the Palestinians?" Just one week after people had vandalized a Holocaust memorial in nearby Soroka, and sprayed "Free Palestine" on it.

The Oldenburg, Germany synagogue that was firebombed on April 5th.

The Florida Las Olas Chabad Jewish Center, which on March 16 burned, but not to the ground. The Torah scrolls were safe, and no one was hurt, but the back of the building was severely damaged.

The planned-but-thwarted-on-March-7th ISIS massacre in a Moscow synagogue.

The stabbing of an Orthodox Jew in Switzerland on March 5th. (He was badly injured, but expected to survive.)

A man leaving a synagogue in Paris was beaten on March 3rd.

People set the courtyard of a synagogue in Sfax, Tunisia on fire on February 27th. Firefighters managed to put the fire out before it consumed the inside of the building.

The synagogue is no longer used; there are no Jews left in its area, and fewer than 1,000 Jews left in Tunisia overall.

(Thousands of Tunisian Jews were sent to work camps during the Holocaust. Antisemitism across the Middle East continued to increase rapidly for decades. By the 1970s, 90% of Tunisian Jews had fled to France or Israel.)

On February 18, an Orthodox Jew leaving Synagogue of Inverrary-Chabad in Lauderhill, Florida, was beaten by an attacker yelling racial slurs.

Someone deliberately chose International Holocaust Remembrance Day, January 27, to smash all the windows in the front of Sgoolai Israel Synagogue in downtown Fredericton, New Brunswick.

On December 29, Turkey arrested 32 people linked to ISIS who were planning attacks on synagogues and churches.

On December 17, a man drove a U-Haul truck up onto the sidewalk between a barrier and the front door of the Kesher Israel Congregation in Washington D.C., got out, and started yelling "Gas the Jews." He also sprayed a foul-smelling substance on two people leaving the synagogue.

December 17 also saw 400 synagogues across the United States receive bomb threats.

On December 11, a man attacked an elderly couple on their way into a synagogue in Los Angeles, screaming, "Give me your earrings, Jew!!" and beating one of them bloody with a belt. (Happily, he chased the guy down the street, and caught him when his pants fell down.)

On December 10, a 16-year-old was arrested in Vienna for planning an attack on a synagogue.

On December 8, on the first night of Hanukkah, 15 synagogues in New York State received bomb threats. And someone screamed, "Free Palestine," and fired shots outside of Temple Israel in Albany, NY. Which has a preschool that was in session.

Meanwhile, the five Jews left in Egypt were canceling public Hanukkah candle-lighting at their synagogue out of fear of reprisals. Particularly after two Israelis in Alexandria had been gunned down by terrorists on October 8. (While Israel was still fighting Hamas in Israel.)

On November 15, a terrorist group set the only synagogue in Armenia on fire.

Armenian Secret Army for the Liberation of Armenia (ASALA) has a history of working with the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP).

(PFLP is part of Hamas's network of groups. Samidoun is their nonprofit arm - which is why Germany banned Samidoun last year, although it's still active in many other countries.

PFLP is also actively supported by the Palestinian Youth Movement (PYM), a diaspora nonprofit group, and Within Our Lifetime (WOL), an SJP spinoff in NYC.)

On November 11, halfway through Shabbat services, police asked Central Shul in Melbourne, Australia to evacuate "as a precaution" due to a "pro-Palestinian" protest that had chosen the neighboring park as its gathering place. Australia has seen some very outspoken antisemitism at protests, including the march shortly after October 7 that chanted "Gas the Jews."

Also on November 11, protesters targeted a synagogue along a march route. They sat in their cars, spraying green smoke and shouting at people leaving the synagogue. The march itself featured a record number of horrifying signs and chants.

On November 7th, Congregation Beth Tikvah in Montreal was firebombed, and the back door of the Jewish organization across the street (Federation CJA) was set on fire.

On November 4, protesters chanted "Bomb Israel," and burned an Israeli flag outside the only synagogue in Malmo, Sweden.

During October, there were 501 antisemitic acts under investigation in France in just three weeks, including groups gathering in front of synagogues shouting threats, and graffiti such as the words “killing Jews is a duty” sprayed outside a stadium.

On October 18, people firebombed a synagogue in Berlin after homes all over the neighborhood were graffitied with stars of David.

And also on October 18, hundreds of "pro-Palestine" rioters attacked the Or Zaruah Synagogue, in the Spanish enclave of Melilla in North Africa, while worshippers were inside.

Based on the video, they seem to have blocked the synagogue entrance completely, while screaming "Murderous Israel" and waving Palestinian flags. (Melilla is an autonomous zone belonging to Spain. It borders Morocco.)

On October 17, during pro-Palestinian protests, hundreds of rioters set fire to Al Hammah synagogue, an abandoned house of prayer in central Tunisia. They hammered down the building’s walls and raised a Palestinian flag on the building. Police did not intervene.

The Facebook page "Tunigate", which has around 88 thousand followers, published a video of the assault. So did "Radio Bousalem”, with 83 thousand users. The vast majority of comments on these videos welcome these acts. The building was severely damaged and almost completely razed to the ground.

On October 15, bomb threats were sent to many East Coast synagogues. Attleboro synagogue Congregation Agudas-Achim received one of the emails, which read, "The bombs will blow up in a few hours. A lot of people will die. You all deserve to die."

On October 8 -- again, while Hamas was still in Israel -- Madrid’s main synagogue was defaced with graffiti that read “Free Palestine” next to a crossed-out Star of David.

And on October 7, an assailant in Rockland, NY fired a BB gun at two women entering a synagogue. Later in the month, a banner at the Stephen Wise Free Synagogue in the area was vandalized with the words, “Fuckin kikes."

[insomniakisses]

Helloo! Can you do Stepmother g!pSana × femreader, where Sana gets jealous on your boyfriend (idk who actually). Then days later on your 19th birthday you caught your boyfriend cheating on you then you go home crying and Sana saw and went to comfort you which ended up on a confession and birthday sex.🫠 Can you do that? Lol it's been on my mind the whole day😭 Thank you!

He is Nothing

Pairing: Sana (Twice)

Reader: Gender Neutral (AFAB)

Warnings/Notes: omegaverse au, alpha sana, she has a dick, p in v sex, MINORS DNI, CIS HETS DNI, NSFW CONTENT, creampie, breeding kink, mommy kink, brief mentions of cheating.

The sound of you crying and a door slamming woke sana up, getting out of bed she makes her way to your room knocking gently before she pushes it open. Her heart clenches when see sees you, puffy eyed and shaking as you cry.

“Oh my sweet baby!” She makes her way to you quickly softly scooping you up and pulling you against her feeling your face nuzzle into her neck inhaling deeply her scent to calm yourself.

“Mommy” you whine and she clenches her jaw cussing at herself for her cock twitching. “Whats wrong baby? Hmm?” Her voice is strained but you don’t pick up on it simply shaking your head with a whine.

“Baby please..” she probes kissing your head and you whimper pulling away from her neck, eyes closing as she wipes your tears.

“H-he cheated on me” you frown and her jaw clenches once more eyes hardening. “He.. what..?”

You swallow shifting uncomfortably at the harsh deep voice escaping her throat and she sighs cupping your jaw. “Listen to me baby, he is NOTHING and its his loss because he doesn’t get a perfect omega like you. Hmm?”

You cant help but blush looking at your lap at her words and she smiles kissing your head once more and you cant help but move to grab her face leaning her face still. Biting your lips you lean in pleasantly surprised when she follows crashing her lips together with yours with a hungry moan.

“Fuck,” she cusses pushes you to lay under her and caressing your face thumb brushing your lips. “I want you baby, I love you, really i do and-“ she doesn’t get to finish because you kiss her again she smirks into the kiss bulling at your shorts until there off humming in approval when you pull her cock out of her boxers.

“Fuck baby,” she moans pulling away. “Are you sure?” You nod biting your lip and she groans pushing in mouth falling open at your tight wet heat.

“M-mommy!” You yelp, grabbing onto her shoulders as she shushes you. “Its okay baby, mommy is gonna take care of you”

Placing one last kiss to your lips she starts thrusting fast and deep, one hand coming down so she can rub at your clit. “God your so fucking tight baby, gonna take all of mommys seed huh?”

You nod moaning as she nips and kisses at your neck groaning into it when you cum on her cock, walls clenching hard as your juices drip to her balls. Her cock twitches balls pulsating as she cums too filling you with a heavy load of warm runny cum.

“Fuck baby,” she husks still rubbing at your clit as you both catch your breath, it takes a minute but she starts up her thrusts once more teasing you with her knot every thrust as it grows. Just barely popping it in before she pulls away.

When she feels you start clenching and your walls tightening she rubs her thumb against your clit faster. “You want my knot baby? Wanna be stuffed by your mommy and made to carry her pups?” She teases, almost taunting you and you cry out in need. Begging for it, and who is she to deny you slamming her knot in and rubbing your clit till your both cumming. Panting against each other and whispering soft “I love yous”.

A/n: Sorry i kinda changed it! Also only after finishing it did i see “g!p” and not “alpha”

[sjywrites]

༊*·˚ Prada & Versace

: ̗̀➛ 𝓢ugar 𝓓addy!𝓛ee 𝓗eeseung x 𝓕!reader. 𝓖enre smut, fluff, age gap, s2l. ��ypnosis where reader is a broke and single college student celebrating her best friends birthday, and at said party she meets someone who might solve more than just one of her problems. 𝓦𝓒 estimated 5-10k. 𝓒𝓦 age gap, oral (f! and m! receiving), unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!), pet names (good girl, baby, slut in an affectionate way!), mentions of alcohol, both hee and reader smokes, reader is a bit intoxicated but still fully aware of what she’s doing.

𝓝ote this is a sneak-peak of the actual story, this is the first story I’ve ever posted on tumblr so if you see anything that I can improve, please let me know. I want the first story I post to be good enough for me to be motivated to keep writing!

This is purely fiction and is not meant to interpret how the idols act in real life!

,, not proofread + english is not my first language ! ೃ⁀➷

Flashing lights, loud music and the smell of sweaty bodies. That’s what most clubs look like, and this one was no different.

It was Ryujins 19th birthday, and she wanted to celebrate it with just her closest friends and her girlfriend. That’s why Y/N agreed to it in the first place. She’s not used to social settings and spends most of her time stressing over finals, so being forced into a social setting wasn't making her any less stressed. Her and Ryujin are the complete opposite of each other and she can’t really remember how they became best friends, but somehow they did. And that’s why she’s in this position right now, pressed between strangers in a club that reeked of alcohol, dressed in a skimpy black dress that barely covered her up.

“Hey Y/N, get me another drink will ya’!” Ryujin shouted and laughed, fully intoxicated. “I don’t really think that’s a good idea Ryu” I said, a little worried about her condition “you’ve had a lot already” I tell her, hoping she would just give up “It’s fineee, I’m fineee, trust!” She laughed and grabbed another beer. I tried to stop her but she was too fast. I just gave up and sighed, trying to reason with her when she’s drunk is like trying to argue with a wall “You’re gonna throw up later I’ll tell you that.” I grabbed my lighter and walked outside for a smoke, leaving her to Yeji, her girlfriend. I love Ryujin, but sometimes she can be a handful to look after.

I walk out on the balcony, leaning against the rack and admire the glowing night sky, letting the cold wind run over my body. It’s a relaxing moment until I hear someone approaching and I assume it’s either Ryujin or Yeji, until they lean against the rack beside me. Build too big to be either of them, I look over in their direction. A tall, hot guy with glasses stands there. He lights a cigarette and looks over to me. I forgot how to breathe for a moment, embarrassed, I looked away slightly. When I look back to see if he’s still there, we make eye contact. He’s close enough that I can feel the heat roaming around him. And I can't tell if it’s the embarrassment or the close contact with the man that makes my cheeks heat up, but I’d rather not find out.

I take a look at the man in front of me, scanning him up and down. Dressed in a suit too fine to be worn at a basic club, hair styled in a way that makes it look almost untouched, and his eyes, his eyes were so easy to get lost in. I snap out of it when I realize I’d been staring for a while, a slight smirk on the man's lips as he leans down to my level.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer”

✩ ♬ ₊.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N please let me know if you want me to finish it! Likes and reblogs are very much appreciated ♡ (Also someone please teach me how to make my posts aesthetic I've never posted on Tumblr before so I don't know how it works 😔)

[arsenal-womens-1]

What if I say no and I come with you

Request

“It’s one thing to be in love, but it’s something else entirely to be willing to sacrifice everything for it.” - Unknown

December 10th: We had just got back on the bus; we had just played Chelsea and won 4-1. The main topic throughout the bus was the transfer window. You and Jen were sitting next to each other. On the opposite side, Beth and Viv sat. You and Beth were nearest to the window with your partners next to you. Beth and Jen were talking as you and Viv just sat and listened. The topic of transfers comes up. Everyone knows that you and Jen’s contracts run out in January.

“Are you going to sign new contracts this season?” You and Jen had put a lot of thought into it. Jen had already started to get offers, a lot from the NWSL. You had received some offers as well, so you had decided that Jen was going to go to the NWSL and you somewhere in Europe. You had done this countless times, but something about this didn’t feel the same. Jen glances over at you.

“We talked, and we decided if things don’t change with the offers, I’m going to go to the NWSL and Y/N somewhere in Europe.”

You just hum. “What about you, Viv?” It was no secret in the team that Viv was unhappy. The way she was being treated was wrong, but there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

“I haven’t decided anything yet, but if I don’t, my contract runs out in July, so I guess I’ll just see what happens.” After that, the other two go back to talking.

January 2nd: Kim Little has invited the whole team around for a team bonding session. Training didn’t start for another few days, but as the transfer season is now open, this is probably the last time that this team will play together. We needed to be at her house at 5 p.m., and it’s currently 4:56. You two just pulled into her street. A few cars you recognize. Jen pulls into an open spot, turns off the car, and gets out. She always insists on opening the door for you. You walk up to the house, knocking on the door. You wait for someone to answer. Kim finally opens it.

“Hey, come in. A few of the girls are already here.” Walking into the main room, more than half of the team is there. You and Jen separate and go talk to different people. You walk over to Frida, Lia, Amanda, Stina, Katie, and Caitlin.

“Hey, Y/N.”

You stand next to Lia. “Hey.” You had not seen each other since the 21st, as everyone left for where they were spending Christmas on the 22nd.

“How was Christmas?” Everyone talks about what they did and random stuff. Once again, the transfer topic comes up.

“Y/N, have you and Jen chosen what teams you’re going to?”

You had thought about it for the last month but had yet to pick one. “Jen has; I haven’t yet, though.”

January 19th: You had just finished training. You had been thinking about it and didn’t know who to talk to, so when you bump into Kelly Smith, it feels like a blessing.

“Hey, Kelly, can I ask you something?”

She had always said that if any of you needed help, you could ask her, and now you need that help.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

You look around to make sure that nobody is near. “How did you know you were making the right choice when you retired?”

She takes a moment to think. “I knew I was making the right decision when I looked at all the things I had achieved, and when I thought about it, I felt at peace that I had done everything I could and won everything I could. I knew I was doing it for the right reasons.”

Hearing her say that really helped. Realistically, there was nothing else you could win—you won the Euros with England, came second in the World Cup, had Olympic medals, and played for Barca. You had done it all. You nod your head.

“Thank you for saying that.”

You go to the changing room and see everyone. You get changed.

January 30th: We are standing in our back garden. It was Jen’s goodbye party. A few people were talking, a few eating, and a lot playing football. You and Jen are standing on the deck at the top of the garden. Her arms are wrapped around your back as your head is on her chest.

“Jen.”

She hums to show that she’s listening.

“What if I say no to all the teams and come with you? I don’t want to be separated anymore. I’m happy with everything I’ve achieved; there’s nothing left to do.”

She pulls back a little to look at you, her eyes searching yours for any sign that you’re lying.

“Are you serious?”

You nod your head as your voice seems to have disappeared.

Jen’s expression softens as she looks you in the eye. “Are you sure? There’s a lot to consider—what if you regret it? What if you miss out on opportunities that could have come your way?”

You squeeze her hands gently. “I know there are risks. But I think the chance to be together and not worry about when the next time we get to see each other is worth it. I want to wake up with you next to me. I’ve done everything I have ever wanted for my career; there’s nothing left to accomplish.”

She holds you in a tight hug. “If this is what you truly want, then come with me.”

[candysims4]

NOSTALGIA SET

I'm super happy to share my last release of this month with you. It's a set of six brand-new items for CAS: two earrings, one beanie, one nails, one mini-cropped sweater with a bodysuit combo, and one pair of pants.

AS IT’S TOO MUCH TEXT, I’LL LEAVE THE DESCRIPTION OF EACH ITEM PLUS THE CREATOR’S NOTES BELOW THE CUT.

ALL ITEMS ARE:

TEEN TO ELDER

BASE GAME COMPATIBLE

MADE FOR FEMALE FRAME

DISALLOWED FOR RANDOM

THUMBNAILS (HOSTED IN IMGUR)

MY SITE (NO AD.FLY): KYLIE HOOPS (TWO VERSIONS) | HILARY EARRINGS | P!NK BEANIE | CHRISTINA NAILS (TWO VERSIONS) | HAYLEY SWEATER AND BODYSUIT | AVRIL PANTS (TWO VERSIONS) Free release on 19th September 2023

PATREON EARLY ACCESS + MERGED OPTIONS

TERMS OF USE | SEND YOUR FEEDBACK | REPORT AN ISSUE

Thanks to all the cc creators that I used in the pic. And thanks to @maxismatchccworld, @simblrcollective, @s4library​, @wewantmods​, and everybody who reblog this post!

If you’re a cc finds and want to be tagged when I post, please, let me know. You can send me an ask or in DM.

With your help, more people can know about my work! 💖 Love you all, XOXO <;33

DESCRIPTION OF EACH ITEM:

KYLIE HOOPS (TWO VERSIONS) Same colors and description for both versions.

928 POLYGONS

10 SWATCH COLORS - All plain colors

YOU WILL FIND IN ACCESSORIES/EARRINGS

HILARY EARRINGS

928 POLYGONS

10 SWATCH COLORS - All plain colors

YOU WILL FIND IN ACCESSORIES/EARRINGS

P!NK BEANIE (TWO VERSIONS) Same description for both versions.

2.780 POLYGONS

YOU WILL FIND IN HATS/BRIMLESS

VERSION 1:

100 SWATCH COLORS - 50 color combinations - 50 patterned

VERSION 2:

55 SWATCH COLORS - All plain colors

CHRISTINA NAILS (TWO VERSIONS) Same description for both versions.

660 POLYGONS

YOU WILL FIND IN ACCESSORIES/FINGERNAILS

VERSION 1:

44 SWATCH COLORS - All color combinations

VERSION 2:

55 SWATCH COLORS - All plain colors

HAYLEY SWEATER AND BODYSUIT

3.696 POLYGONS

190 SWATCH COLORS - 85 color combinations - 25 patterned (bodysuit) - 85 patterned (sweater)

YOU WILL FIND IN TOP/SWEATER OR/AND TANK TOP

AVRIL PANTS (TWO VERSIONS) Same description for both versions.

1.346 POLYGONS

YOU WILL FIND IN BOTTOM/JEANS

VERSION 1:

79 SWATCH COLORS - 44 single/plain colors - 35 color combinations

VERSION 2:

44 SWATCH COLORS - All plain colors

CREATOR'S NOTES:

Let's start with the accessories of this set. There are two sets of earrings; "Hilary Earrings," one with small hoops and a coin as a pendant, and "Kylie Hoops," two hoops, one smaller than the other. Kylie comes in two versions; the difference is that the bigger hoop is smaller in the second version. Both items are gorgeous and so easy to style; I'm loving them.

"P!nk Beanie" is a simple beanie but still beautiful and stands out in the outfit. It comes in two different versions with plenty of swatches to choose from. The main difference between the two versions is the tag on the back of the beanie; version one has, and the two haven't. Plus, they have different color palettes.

And last but not least, "Christina Nails," a new set of nails with two different versions. Version 1 is a cute french tip, but with a little twist - they're colorful! And just for fun, I did the same nails with plain colors without the french tip (Version 2), just because of this new medium/small shape I did for this new nail design.

Now the clothes, "Hayley Sweater and Bodysuit," is very cute, but also edgy. I liked this bodysuit design; I'm considering remaking it as a new item. I'll have to draw the top part and a new mesh; it's no big deal. What do you guys think about this idea? It comes in various swatch options. I added as many as possible, but since it was already 190 and the end of the month, I figured I should probably stop, or I'd never finish it! As 190 swatches weren't enough (hahaha), I did a recolor acc for recolor the sweater in 55 plain colors.

"Avril Pants" is an oversized cargo jeans that come in two versions - one with patches and one without. In both versions, they look very edgy and beautiful. The patches are available in two styles: one with just one color in different shades (like light to dark red) and the other with varying combos of color (like red+pink+blue).

All these items are inspired by the Y2K fashion but with my personal style mixed into it, too. I love the nostalgia of the 2000s, and it's been a huge inspiration for me when creating outfits and CC in the past. Still, as it's more trendy and I like it, I decided to do my first outfit for this set based on the fashion trend from the 2000s. I am anxious to design the following outfit for this set; I want to do a Nostalgia Set, a huge and complete set encompassing the most fashion eras possible.

And as always, all these items have been made to be worn together or separately - whatever you decide! I hope you like these items and enjoy playing with them. XOXO <33

[morgana-lefay]

Gotta agree with you! Till has just the perfect amount of body hair! Not too much and not too less! Just perfect!

Hello, Anon! :) I had this sitting on my drafts since April! 😱 Apologies! But I think it's never too late to discourse over Till and his hairy chest and so I decided to finish my answer (I ran out of image space back then). So let's go. First of all, glad to meet another "the perfect amount of body hair" appreciator (for some context, it came from this post) and thank you for bringing this subject to me, which allows me to expand my research further more (meaning, I now have an excuse to post more glorious topless Till 🤷🏻‍♀️. As if an excuse was needed for that in this house, but anyway...). Let's start from the beginning. Our guy seems to have always been a hairy one and, thankfully, 90's Rammstein were ever so naked, so we can appreciate it evolving.

1994...the beginning of it all. Till sports a muscular, hot as hell, body (but again, not too much, just the perfect amount) and a fairly distributed body hair between chest and belly. 10/10, would put my hands all over it. [Bonus look: 1994 Till, just casually hanging around backstage, half-naked, with suspenders on. I accept and embrace this look 👇🏻.]

1995, the year it all disappeared...(for a breef while)

If the information was correct, first one is from November 3rd and second one from December 10th. I guess in the second photo he had already shaved for the Seemann music video, which leads us back to this:

(side note: this post, by @tipsywench described this video hilariously on point. Also open the second picture for chest close-up, where we can see it's not 100% shaven/already growing back).

Seems it was short lived, as in December 19th, hairy belly and chest peeking out again, so back to our regular program.

1996, the happy trails continue.

1997-1999 - Sehnsucht Era

Not sure if it's because of the light in the photos, the water and sweat or if he actually shaved a bit at times, because in some he looks hairier than others.

2000-2002 / Mutter Era There's a lot of changes in the hair department in this Era, but more in haircuts than the rest (but that's subject for a different post).

2004-2005 Reise, Reise Tour (or the Era where everyone looked incredibly hot in their BDSM/Gothic looks)

2009 - 2011 | LIFAD Era (another personal favourite of mine)

Boobs are changing and it looks like there's more hair in the belly area.

2011-2012 Made In Germany

Turning 50, our guy seems to have become more shy on stage and the MIG Era was the last one he graced us with a full shirtless version, unfortunately.

From 2015 on, we got very rare occasions to appreciate his hairy chest, now turned grey.

What is also important to notice for our "perfect amount of body hair" research, is that there's no back or shoulder hair.

(I don't know if it's the image quality, but it actually looks like he shaved his legs in that fishing one)

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

this compounds (in probably a kind of 'you and your bars in the stratosphere smh' kinda way tbh but whatever) when youre reading a book from 150 years ago

i read melmoth the wanderer. irish gothic novel from 1820. i read the french translation from 1821. it's about a guy who sold his soul to the devil to...be immortal? not entirely sure if that was the point of the deal tbh he didnt seem happy with it and i never quite figured out what he actually wanted to get out of the deal, the immortality was more of a punishment it seemed

anyway, the guy is immortal. theres a portrait of him from 1646 and he (indirectly)(so, so indirectly)(god why are 19th century novels like this the suspension of disbelief necessary to keep believing in the framing of 'guy telling a story' (guy telling the story of another guy whose story he heard) (guy telling about a guy who heard a story that he heard from another guy he met) (etcetera) was really just a bit too much for me) (anyway) relates his wanderings. so theres these stories a little bit from between mid 17th century to early 19th and we're speaking to an 1820 audience right? the difference between 1640s and 1820s is close enough to the difference between 1820s and 2020s that it was a really interesting stacking of cultural impressions

like at one point the narrator was talking about the 17th century and he was like "people back then couldnt travel as fast as we do now" !!!! that was so exciting to me. looking at the depiction of the 17th century by a 19th century guy with 21st century eyes

it was complicated even more bc the author of this book was irish right (he was like oscar wilde's great uncle or something like that) (this book was super popular) (lots of like references in other stuff) (like the portrait) but most of the story is told by a spanish monk who wrecked his ship on the irish coast so a lot of the story takes place in spain. so hes not just writing about a different time but a different country too. and sometimes you can hear that when it's clunky, same as nowadays, like when they say things like "the way spanish summer nights are" or stuff like that. but most of it will be way more subtle and obviously has completely gone over my head, seeing as i, stewart lee voice, dont know anything about early 19th century irish gothic literature or 17th century spain, OR the kind of perspective that an early 19th century french translator would bring to that story and the influences that would bring PLUS the fact that im not fluent in french and cant tell the difference between 19th century french and modern french (im learning words that the dictionary calls vieilli and vx side by side with modern slang, and honestly side by side with 19th century slang, which is, again, super fun, but not very good for my cultural-temporal intuitions probably) (like when i read 19th century french i keep being struck with how not-old-fashioned it sounds compared to 19th century english or dutch. but i think thats just me. i have no sense for what words we dont use anymore. and the imparfait of the subjunctive doesnt have any oldfashioned ring to me (honestly i like it)) what was i talking about. oh yeah) so i dont really have the ability to differentiate the perspectives here entirely, theres too much all mixed together, but i still get glimpses and it's, master voice: very very interesting :)

the thing im enjoying most about learning a new language is learning new cultural context. i never noticed learning this with english probably bc youre already one foot in american pov before you even speak the language what with all the popular media coming from there, but with french i have to dig this knowledge out with my bare hands and it's really fun

like, when i read in a book that the english people at the english train station our english protagonist who just came home after 15 years exile in france is arriving at "were going about their business with their english sense of timing and rhythm", what am i supposed to understand by that? is that like a swiss clock sort of thing (another cultural reference you now realise you have learnt to understand the right way at some point even without knowing anything necessarily about swiss clocks) or more of a doctor who kind of sense of timing? what is the french cultural idea of the british and their sense of punctuality? i dont know yet! i feel like a child!

[cillianhead]

Hello dear!!! I hope you're having a wonderful day!

Could you please write a piece about Cillian falling for a (younger!) poet? He starts frequenting her reading sessions and that's how they meet. The rest is up to you!

Thank you 🩵

Yes!! Love this, thank you <3

Enjoy my sweet nonny!

This is heavily inspired by the song All Too Well (10-minute version) (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift!!

Wind In My Hair, I Was There || Cillian Murphy x Reader

warnings: Smut, angst, age gap (reader is in her mid to late twenties, Cillian is in his forties.), swearing, Cillian is sort of an asshole in this in some parts, so that is a warning, infidelity (Cillian is married), general adult content ahead!!

Minors DNI! 18+

I'd also like to clarify this isn't really based on the real Cillian!! I know he's married and very happy, this is just fiction and fantasy!! Not meant to portray Cillian as a bad person!! I'd also like to clarify that the ready doesn't really know who Cillian is... or maybe like Cillian isn't that famous in this fic universe or something because there are a few plot points that may seem questionable... that's all. Anyway... enjoy!!

The autumn you spent with Cillian Murphy would be one you would always remember, not that you really had a choice in whether or not you could forget him.

Your apartment was small and cozy at the time, with a perfect view of the falling leaves outside. It was sitting across from a small park in New York City; the trees were red and orange, and it felt like the fall was putting on a show just for you. You felt fortunate and privileged to live in such a place.

You lived right up the road from a small cafe with a library. Every Thursday, you meet with like-minded writers and read your work aloud. It helped bring you out of your shell; you felt a sense of pride when you read your poetry out loud and had people praise you for being so brave and how well you wrote. Despite the fact you have been attending these little group meetings for almost two years now and you felt pretty comfortable amongst the people who were there, you felt like you could vomit your pounding heart right up every time you stood at that podium in front of the dozen or so people that attended. But even with the lump in your throat, you'd read with a shaky voice and tears ready to spill, you would receive the same round of applause every time and a pat on the back from some of the attendees you were closer with.

It was September 14th when you first saw him, but it wasn't the first time he had seen you, summer still lingering in the air but barely grasping on as Autumn began to take the reigns. You were standing at that cedar-wood podium, reading aloud as nervously as you always did. You had yet to notice him quietly slip in; you were too busy ensuring you were on the right line.

"-And something beautiful sprouted, something that I am not... something that I never will be." You looked up after reading the last line, biting your lip nervously and stepping back from the speaking podium. There he sat, in a sweater and the most hypnotizing eyes you had ever seen. Maybe love at first sight was real, you thought briefly. People clapped, but the room remained silent and still for you as you two made eye contact; he didn't clap; he just stared at you with a look that told you he was just as taken aback by you as you were by him.

He kept attending the sessions, but he never got up and read anything and never really interacted with anyone else; in fact, you'd see him get up and leave once you had finished reading your poetry. You wondered if anyone else noticed him the way you did, or maybe he was a figment of your imagination... a ghost.

It was October 19th when you first spoke with him. You dreamt about him day and night, and you two had never even spoken before every session; you'd wonder if he'd be there, and he always was. Sitting in the same seat, at the very back, going ultimately unnoticed by almost everyone but you.

"Excuse me, sir!" You yelled out, rushing to follow the man in the plaid shirt and beanie. "You dropped this!" It was a pair of keys you had clutched in your hand, the crisp autumn air meeting the apples of your cheeks.

He turned around, only a foot or two away from you, as he looked at you up and down, taking notice of his keys in your hand. "Oh gosh, thank you, love," He took the keys gently out of your hand, his fingers lingering on yours a little too long for a stranger, fingertips brushing together. "I swear I'd lose my head if it weren't screwed on." You took notice of his Irish accent. It made you even more curious to know him better. "Erm... thank you so much."

"It's no problem..." You trailed off. You're not sure what to say now. He gave you a stiff nod and started to turn around and keep walking, but you just couldn't let him leave. "Wait!" What do you say now?

"Yeah?" He turned around, tilting his head at you, blue eyes staring at you, waiting.

"I... I'm Y/N... by the way... I always see you here... but I never see you read anything..."

"Cillian," He chuckled. "Not interested in reading anything I've written, only here to listen." Cillian's response was short but straight to the point.

"You don't stick around for very long... you always leave after... I've finished reading my writing..."

"Well... your work is the only one I come to listen to. The rest of the lots' poems just go in one ear and out the other," He said honestly. "You've got a charm about you; I've never heard anything like what you write. It's unique and intelligent, cleverly crafted written pieces... It captures my attention, unlike the rest, which all seem like people trying to mimic someone else... you write from your heart... or your head... I can't decide which, really." He notices your silence, Cillian steps a bit closer to you. "Perhaps I've said too much." He mumbles. The proximity of where he stands is close enough that you can feel his warmth, a stark contrast to how cold it was outside. "You've surely captivated me, Y/N." He said your name like it was a sacred prayer.

You felt like your heart was in your throat, looking at him dumbfounded and unsure what to say. "That's... very flattering, I don't know what to say... thank you, Cillian..." You scratch behind your ear, swaying nervously on your feet. Cars honked, and people passed by as you two stood outside the little cafe, which was now closed since the reading sessions had ended. Cillian looked around awkwardly before sucking in a deep breath and exhaling, his breath visible out in the open air due to how cold it was.

"Would you like to go out for dinner with me?" Cillian looked at you, eyes reflecting the city lights. The moment felt like something from a movie or something you'd write a poem about. It felt like something that wasn't quite possible within these depths of reality. "I understand... if not... you're a young beautiful woman... probably got someone waitin' at home for y-" "N-No, I'd love to!" You interrupted him, with your heart racing. "I'd love to go to dinner with you... I don't have anyone at home... waiting for me..."

"Well, aren't I lucky... when are you free?" He gave you a smile, the first you'd ever seen from him. It made his usually sombre face light up; he grinned, making you feel all giddy.

"I'm free any time on the weekends... and on Tuesdays, I have work off, so... I would love to... see you this weekend, maybe?"

"Wonderful, Saturday evening, you and me?"

You nodded. You exchanged numbers and went on your merry way, walking down the streets of New York City with a smile on your face that was purely gleeful. People would give you looks, but you didn't care. You were excited about something for once. You obsessed over it for the next day and a half.

October 21st marked your very first date with Cillian Murphy. At six, you waited patiently outside your apartment building in the cold air. With a red scarf wrapped around your neck your nose runny from the autumnal weather, you looked around like a lost puppy.

"Y/N," Cillian's warm voice startled you from behind you. You jumped but swiftly turned around to look at him, a bashful smile on both of your faces. "You look lovely." You felt your heart pound at the sight of him.

"Thank you. You also look lovely yourself." You replied. He leaned in and kissed your cheek before taking your hand in his and guiding you down the street. The feeling of his hand in yours made the cold weather seem like summer. Your body lit in flames at the idea he wanted you close to him. And the feeling of his lips on your cheek remained there the whole evening, burning its mark into your skin.

The night went on, and you found yourself in a charming Italian restaurant. It was nothing too fancy, but it was nice and romantic for a first date, definitely nicer than any other places other guys have taken you. It was just the two of you sitting towards the back, in a small booth, eating your plates of pasta. You talked, and you talked, and you talked. He spoke about how he was an actor; you could see his eyes light up at his passion for his work. He told you he was in New York for work and was filming a movie for something he couldn't legally disclose yet. Your chemistry was magnetic, and the conversation would weave in and out of different subjects. You talked about anything and everything, things like masculinity, The Beatles, the incident that happened on your 21st Birthday, batman, and everything else there was to discuss. You felt like you had known him forever. He said the same thing and referred to you two as twin flames. When you were about to leave, his phone began to ring.

"Fuckin' hell, what is it now?" He groaned. "Probably just a wrong number... or somethin'... hold on, love." He stepped outside, and you watched him on the phone. Cillian looked angry and frustrated, like he was arguing over the phone with someone. Your heart, which once rode the waves of love and joy, now sank beneath them into the deep dark depths of navy blue and dismay, watching him grow angrier and angrier and yell over the phone. He was seeing red.

When he waved for you to come out, you approached him cautiously. He huffed, puffed, and fidgeted his hands in his pockets, clearly restless. "Who was that? Are you okay?" "It was no one," He replied shortly and coldly. "I'm fine, let's go." You didn't say a word after that. The tension was thicker than the cold. You were afraid of saying anything to further upset him. So silence was the answer as he walked you home. You felt disappointed that this was how the night was ending. You wondered who it was and what they had said that had upset him so badly. The familiar apartment building you called home came closer and closer within sight, the disappointment weighing you down like water in your shoes. The disappointment tracing every inch of your freezing skin.

You stood in your elevator with him. He promised to walk you back to your unit at least, and he kept that promise. "Would you like to come in... Cillian?" You asked. You pulled out your house key and unlocked the door, looking at him hopefully.

"No, I'd better not." He remained cold and rigid with you. He couldn't even bring himself to give you a smile. You felt you'd never see him again; maybe he didn't like you the way you thought he did. Maybe he found you obnoxious and dumb. Perhaps the phone call was from another woman he realized was better than you. Maybe you simply needed to be better for him. "Goodnight, Y/N." He turned and walked away; you couldn't speak as tears welled in your eyes. Sorrow built up within you like some sort of horrible game of Jenga; one wrong move and you'd come crashing down and falling apart all over the place.

"Goodnight..." You whispered, but by then, he'd already stepped into the elevator, and the doors shut, taking him away from you. You cried yourself to sleep that night, both out of self-pity and disappointment.

When you awoke, it was to the sounds of soft raps on your front door. It was eight in the morning. Padding gently down the hallway, floorboards creaking, sleep still in your eyes, and your face puffy from the tears that leaked from your tear ducts the previous night, you opened the door, expecting it to be a neighbor asking you if they could borrow some sugar or something along those lines.

"Good morning," Cillian stood at your door, this time with a big apologetic smile, a complete change from last night's cold demeanour. He held a pink, yellow, and white bouquet and a small paper bag in his other hand. "I came here to apologize... for how I treated you last night." "Come in." You ushered him in.

He noted your knick-knacks, the photos on your walls, and your old, worn-out furniture. The way you decorated the place stood out to him, but the look on your face stood out to him the most. Sad, tired eyes, puffy and glazed over, you looked at him expectantly. "I'm so sorry." He whispered to you.

"What for?" You asked as you sat in your favorite olive green armchair. It was velvet and soft, and you'd spend most of your time writing, reading, or drinking your morning cup of coffee.

"For treating you like I didn't care," He sighed. He sat on the leather sofa beside you, gently placing the flowers on your glass coffee table and the paper bag smelling of freshly baked goods. "I don't want to discuss exactly who it was or what happened on that phone call... but I... I shouldn't have shut you out just because I was upset... that was... wrong of me, and I'm sorry." Your anger and sadness dissipated the way a fire dissipates when it's being smothered: immediately. His big blue eyes were the blanket that hushed that flame out, striking him as immediately forgiven.

"I understand, Cillian..." You mumbled, pulling your knees up to your chest. "Things happen... it's alright... I...." You wanted to confront him and tell him how insignificant and stupid he made you feel, but you swallowed it back and gave him a small smile. You remained the people pleaser you always have been. You spared his feelings over your own. "I understand." You repeated.

"I thought... I would make it up to you," He pushed the small paper bag over to you. "We could spend the day together... if you don't already have plans."

The paper bag contained a chocolate eclair. You had written a poem that mentioned eating a chocolate eclair while in a made-up love affair. The rhyming was cheesy, but it was one of Cillian's favorite poems of yours. It was the first one he had heard from you. Of course, you didn't realize the irony of it at the time. You just grinned and accepted it happily. You didn't know that you were engaging in a relationship with a man who was already married. So you took a bite of the eclair, letting him into your fragile heart, and entered this sad and tragic love affair.

So you spent the whole day together. You walked around New York City, holding hands and laughing your heads off. It felt romantic and intimate, and you got to know each other even deeper than you did before. You kissed under a stop sign and shared sweet nothings. The clouds rolled over, and the sky opened up. The rain watered you down like a pair of leaves in a pot plant, and you both ran through Central Park, trying to find the nearest shelter until you came across a large oak tree. It was something out of a movie, sitting together, soaking wet, staring at each other as lightning strikes in the distance. The wind was in your hair, and his lips were on yours.

You spent pretty much every day together after that. You made love in every room of your apartment, cherishing each other's bodies. Cillian would sit in that cafe, and he would clap after your readings and then reward you with a kiss when you got back down to him. You wrote poetry about him, and he would write some for you. It was a beautiful, quiet, little harmonious relationship you had going on. You found yourself falling in love. You thought he was, too, though you never said it out loud.

He even met your dad. They got along quite well. Your dad didn't seem to mind that Cillian was only a few years younger than him (and much older than you). Your dad just wanted to see you happy and safe. In fact, your dad told you he had never seen you more content. Cillian made your dad laugh, they got along like old friends. Seeing them bonding and getting along made you incredibly happy and excited.

On November 16th, at noon, you got ready to go to where he was staying, wrapping that red scarf around your neck again and stepping out into the living room where Cillian waited for you with eyes full of affection. You had packed a small bag since Cillian told you he was staying at his sister's house in upstate New York. She was away at the moment. "Most beautiful girl I've ever seen." He hummed jollily. You wrapped your arm through his and went down to the lobby.

His car had that new car smell, clearly a rental. "No matter how often I've stayed in America, I never get used to driving on the wrong side of the road." Cillian chuckled, exiting his parking spot and beginning the long drive to his sister's house.

The drive was beautiful. Driving through the city and slowly entering into suburban areas, red and brown trees lining the streets, Halloween decorations on display, and music playing through the radio, you both sang along to the words happily. The drive was surreal and peaceful. You drove down a long country road, and the tall trees created a tunnel above you. Only small slits of the grey sky could be seen through the scarlet leaves.

"We're here, Y/N," Cillian smiled at you, stepping out of the car and walking off without you. You hurriedly got out of the car with your things. "Oh, lock the car for me, the button doesn't work... please, love." He tossed you the car keys, not looking where he was throwing them, and they landed in the dirt before you. You ignored how it made you feel (stupid, insignificant, small), picking up the dirty keys and locking the car manually before rushing over to where he was unlocking the door.

The house was nice and quiet and far from the rest of civilization. It felt like home somehow. It is decorated nicely with photos of his sister and her husband, even some with Cillian when he was younger. It was getting dark by now, and you set your belongings down in the guest bedroom where Cillian was staying. You never asked when he was going back to Ireland. You didn't wanna know. You wanted to appreciate your time together instead of counting down the days.

Cillian cooked you dinner and shared a long, loving kiss to say thanks. You sat cuddled up on the couch together afterwards, your crimson scarf hanging over the stair railing as you rested your head lovingly on his shoulder. An old Western movie played in the background, but you were too busy holding each other and whispering sweet things.

"Cillian..." You whispered, pressing soft kisses along his stubbly jaw. "I'm so happy you brought me here... this feels so special." "I'm so happy to have you here, Y/N." He whispered back. Cillian pulled you into his lap. "This is special, just you and me... here... I'm going to make you my own." You wanted to tell him, 'I'm already yours, Cillian; my heart and soul are yours', but you remained silent, smiling dopily at him.

And with those charming words, you kissed him. Flashes of red played through your mind, fireworks sounding off in your head as your lips danced together. His hands cradled your head as you made out nice and slow. Both in your pyjamas now, warming each other up, hands running up and down his back. Cillian's hands wandered down your back until they rested on the tops of your hips, his thumb fiddling with the waistband of your sweatpants.

"Take them off." You hummed, raising your hips slightly off of his, and he obeyed, sliding your pants off until you were only in your panties. Cillian observed how you sat back down on his lap, the lace scrunched up, showing off the curve of your ass.

"I'm going to ravish you." He growled, eyeing you up and down. The timbre of his voice caused your thighs to tightly squeeze together. He pressed you down onto the couch, slipping his pants down until he was just in his briefs. He slipped your shirt over your tits, breasts bouncing out of their containment and straight into his mouth. He sucked happily on your nipples until you were a panting mess, begging for more. "Let me feel you, sweetheart."

"Please..." You exasperated. "Please... Cillian."

Two nimble fingers slipped under your lace underwear, straight down to where your arousal pooled. "So wet f'me, always so wet, aren't you, baby?" He groaned, fingers teasing your slit before sliding back up to rub circles on your clit.

"You know what you do to me..." You breathed out, biting your cherry red lips and closing your eyes, embracing the pleasure. "Always so wet for you, Cillian..."

The way Cillian cradled you in his strong arms as his fingers caressed you to your peak was the most intimate thing you had ever experienced. His eyes watched your face contort with pleasure, mouth open and spilling sounds of satisfaction as you came on his fingers.

"That's it, baby... doing so good," He whispered, kissing your cheek. "So beautiful."

You lolled your head to the side, panting and looking at him with a dazed grin. "Please fuck me."

Cillian laughed at your words. "Such a dirty mouth!" He teased as he tugged down his pants. "Gonna fuck you nice and slow, gonna show you how much you mean to me, love."

Then, in the dim light of the TV and the moon shining through the window, you made love like it was your last night on Earth. Hands ran up and down each other's bodies, trying to savor every final touch. Lips captured together, your bodies working as one, the love was there, glimmering in the light. No words could explain how you felt then; nothing else existed to you, just him and his hands all over your body. You and him for the rest of eternity, at least; that's how it felt in your heart.

You held each other tight in bed, clinging on for dear life. You listened to his heart slow as he slept and the way he breathed. You wondered if he dreamt about you the way you dreamt of him. Eventually, you fell asleep at midnight after watching his pretty face sleeping.

At three in the morning, you wake to an empty bed. Sitting up with a sweat, where did Cillian go? You slip out from under the covers, wincing at the room's cold air that meets your bare legs. You wore one of Cillian's button-ups, only the middle button holding it together as you slowly creep out of the room, listening to the sound of quiet music from the kitchen.

"Cillian?" You called out, cautious and slightly afraid at how dark the house is. It was a lot quieter than you were used to. You were a city girl, unfamiliar with the countryside silence.

"Y/N?" You heard, which relieved your paranoid mind.

Down the stairs, Cillian stood in the fridge's light, soft music playing through a small radio on the kitchen counter. "What're you doing up, Cillian?" You worriedly walked over to him, arms reached out as he turned to look at you, only in his sleep shorts.

"Just needed a midnight snack. I'm alright, my love," He smiled sleepily, with a sheepish look since he wasn't fully awake yet. "C'mere... dance with me."

"Oh... Cillian..." You giggled, walking over to him, letting him wrap you up in his strong arms and sway you gently. "This is nice."

"Mmmm..." Cillian hummed into the soft skin of your neck.

The refrigerator remained open, the cool-tinted light painting you both as you swayed side to side. You were half asleep, and the rocking motion didn't help your drowsiness. You felt as though this was some strange dream.

"Are you real?" You whispered.

"What do you mean?" Cillian purred back.

"I just feel like I made you up." You muttered, pulling your head back to look up at him with big, sleepy eyes.

Cillian looked back at you with the same look. Your wide-eyed gaze and his sweet blue eyes looked like something out of a romance film or something you'd see in a painting. The love you shared was unanimous... or at least you thought so. A kiss and then another kiss and then another turned into a sleepy yet heated make-out.

"Gonna take you right here," He grumbled into your mouth. "My midnight snack."

You giggled at his words as he pressed you against the kitchen island countertop. Kissing so hard it felt like your lips could bruise. He ripped off your shirt and pulled it off you like it was nothing. Cillian growled at the sight of you, hands groping at your tits and lips trailing down your neck. You whimpered, letting your head hang back as he ground his stiff cock into your clothed cunt.

"Fuck!" You whined, wrapping your legs around his hips even further. You ignored the feeling of the marble countertop digging into your lower back; the feeling of his cock was too delicious, too distracting, to really let it ruin the mood. "Cillian, please, baby, just put it in me... need you so bad."

He gave you a grunt and slipped off his shorts before pulling your panties to the side. Cillian acted like a feral dog as he pushed his cock into you and began fucking you on his sister's countertops at three in the morning. The act was sinful.

"Oh god! Yes!" You wailed. You could be as loud as you wanted to out here. No one else was around to hear, and you knew how Cillian liked to hear you scream for him. His hips pistoned in and out of you, cock fitting perfectly inside you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head. He had never been so rough with you before, but you were enjoying it.

"Best pussy I've ever had," Cillian groaned, sweat dripping from his forehead. "Fuck... so good... feels so good."

His fingernails dug into your hips, grunting into the dips of your neck and shoulders as he chased his own high. You ran your hands up and down his back, leaving scratch marks across his shoulder blades. The fridge remained open, but right now, you didn't care. All you could think about was how good he was fucking you. Drool spilled down your chin, mind blank, and legs went limp from the euphoria taking over.

"Yeah, is that it?" Cillian muttered, voice gritty and low as his hips sputtered. "You gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna cum on my cock?"

"Yes... oh fuck! Yes!" You moaned. "Gonna cum for you, Cillian..."

"Love the way my name sounds comin' from your mouth," He whispered, letting out a mouth-watering whine straight into your ear. Your pussy clenched around him tighter as Cillian, usually a quiet and stoic man, came undone and let out the most delectable pornographic-sounding moans. "Y'make it sound so dirty..."

"Please cum in me..." You whimpered. "Please... need it so bad."

"Really?" Cillian panted and looked at you incredulously. He had never had the pleasure of getting to cum in you yet. "You sure?"

"Yes!" You threw your head back, panting like a dog. "Please, Cillian! Please... give it to me." "Fuck... alright... gonna fill you up, love."

You pressed your face into the curve of his neck, mewling as you came around him and the feeling of his hot cum beginning to spill into you. "I love you." You gasped out, squeezing your eyes shut as you came around him. You meant it; you did love him. You had never loved anyone the way you had loved him. You could see yourself with him for the rest of your life, having his babies, getting married..., and dying together. He just groaned loudly as he came inside you, not saying a word to your confession. Maybe it wasn't the right time, or he would wait until he was done to say something.

"Fuckin' hell..." Cillian whispered as he slipped his softening length out of you and pulled his shorts back up. "Look at that..." He mumbled with amazement, getting down on his knees in front of your quivering and cum-filled pussy.

"Cillian, I-"

"Shhh..." He hushed before pressing a loving nip to your inner thigh, and then he unhinged his jaw and attached his watering mouth to your cunt. You forgot everything you were about to say at the feeling of his tongue licking you up and sucking on your swollen clit. You came again quickly due to how sensitive you were, and Cillian sucked up your gushing juices and his cum that still dripped out of you. Standing up, he grabbed you by the chin and kissed you, spitting the mixture into your mouth, tongues swirling together. You moaned at the salty taste and the dirty act. "Such a good girl..." Cillian hummed. "Swallow it, baby. Show me how good you can be for me."

He watched you gulp it down before leaning in and rewarding you with a wet and messy kiss, teeth grabbing your bottom lip before pulling away. "Cillian..." You whispered, out of breath and incredibly flustered. "That... was so good... I love-" "Let's go to sleep," He interrupted abruptly, crouching and picking up your discarded clothing. "It's real late, sweetheart."

"Oh..." You mumbled, heart breaking a little. "Okay... let's go then." You didn't get a peep of sleep that night. While Cillian snored beside you, one heavy arm draped across you and his hot breath fanning the back of your neck, you stared at the ticking clock with tears slipping down your face. Why didn't he say it back? Why didn't he at least say something? You knew he heard you. The dread built up within you that night, and daylight didn't seem to get any closer.

At 7:47 AM, you were pulled out of a state between consciousness and sleep by Cillian's phone ringing. "Fuck..." Cillian said groggily, reaching over with a heavy hand to pick up his phone. "Who is it?" You moaned out of dissatisfaction from being pulled out of your slumber.

"It's my sister..." He groaned before answering the call. "Hello?.... Yeah, it's alright... no, I don't have anything on today... you're comin' home today?... I thought you'd be home Monday..." You sat up at this, heart racing. Were you going to have to meet his sister today? You were nervous but also excited. Cillian looked over at you with a horrified look in his eye. "Yeah... alright... see you then... bye."

"...Is everything okay?" You asked cautiously.

"Yeah, I guess we're not sleepin' in..." He grunted as he got up and walked towards the en suite. "Gather yer' things, we're going back to the city." "What? Why?"

"I just don't want my sister to know I had a girl over." That was the last thing he said before shutting the bathroom door, clearly in a bad mood. Your heart sank at his words as if it wasn't already hurting. So you got up, fighting back the tears and gathered your things, shoving them back into your bag as you let out a choked sob.

Half an hour passed, Cillian was still in the shower, and you sat at the bottom of the stairs, feeling sorry for yourself. Your bag sat beside you, and the floorboards creaking behind you caught your attention. You turned and looked up at Cillian, dressed in a lovely blue turtle neck, dress pants, and a grim look on his face.

Begrudgingly, you followed him outside and into the car, then began the drive back in silence.

"You wanna grab some lunch wit' me today?" Cillian asked after about twenty minutes of silence.

"No." You said dryly.

"What? You got plans or somethin'?" Cillian asked with a chuckle. The question felt condescending and rude.

"Because what you said to me earlier really fucking hurt me." You hissed, turning to look at Cillian to see him already looking at you.

"What the fuck are you on about?" He barked back, putting his eyes back on the road and giving you that dry, condescending laugh again.

"You said you didn't want your sister to know about me.... that you didn't want your sister to know about you having a girl over."

"Yeah, and?" Cillian quipped, clearly flustered.

"Is that all I am to you?" You whimpered, trying to keep your composure, trying to seem strong. "Just a girl?" "'Course not, Y/N." He said in a hushed tone.

"Then what the fuck are we?" You raised your voice, a tear slipping down your cheek. "Why can't your sister know about me? About us?"

"B-Because..." He faltered before falling completely silent.

"Why, Cillian?" You cried. "You've met my friends... you've even met my father... for fuck's sake... why can't... why can't I meet your sister and her husband?"

He kept his silence. You could see the tears in his eyes that refused to spill. Those tears were just as stubborn as he was.

"Answer me!" You screamed, tears pouring down your exasperated face. "Say something!"

"Because I'm married!" He screeched back.

That shut you up. You leaned back and just stared at your feet. You felt like you had been winded, like all the air in the car had been sucked out, and you were choking on carbon monoxide. He was married. You sobbed as the shock set in, and Cillian pulled the car over to the side of the road, unbuckling his seatbelt. You fell into a state of despair; your chest felt incredibly heavy, and your brain played a loop of hopeless thoughts.

"Y/N," Cillian said firmly, reaching out and placing a soft hand on your shoulder, which you quickly smacked away. "Y/N... look at me..."

You looked over at him, and you could see him wince at the look on your face. He'd never seen you in so much pain. Never had he seen you look at him so coldly. "What?" You spat. "What is it, Cillian?"

"I... I'm sorry."

"Fuck you," You cried harder, covering your face with your hands and leaning on the dashboard. You cried so hard it felt like you could vomit. You felt like the salty tears were slowly dissolving you away. "Fuck you!" You sobbed.

"Y/N... I am sorry."

"If you were sorry..." You hiccuped, looking back at him with red eyes and tears endlessly slipping down your flustered face. "You never would have... you never would have done this to me... you never would have gotten involved with me!"

Cillian sighed and shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I... I stumbled into that cafe one night, and I saw you and... I heard the way you spoke... and the words you said... and I couldn't believe you were real... and things haven't been amazing in my marriage lately... and I haven't seen my wife in months..." He was rationalizing with you... with the infidelity. "I... I've never met anyone like you."

"You lied to me."

"How was I supposed to tell you I was married, Y/N?" Cillian snapped at you, looking at you with fangs barred. "What was I supposed to say to you?"

"You didn't have to say anything," You sobbed. "You shouldn't have invited me to dinner... you shouldn't have even... you shouldn't have ever shown up to those reading sessions... you just shouldn't have gotten involved with me in the first place!"

"My wife doesn't have to know."

"That... doesn't make it any better," You bawled. "You have a woman... back in Ireland fucking waiting for you, and I'm here... thinking I'm falling in love with you while you fuck me over!"

"I'm sorry..." He whispered, defeated. "I'm so sorry."

Silence.

"Do you feel anything for me?" "Of course, I feel something for you, Y/N... you're-"

"Do you love me?" You corrected. "Could you say you truly and honestly love me?" "I..." He looked away at that. You scoffed and shook your head, wiping tears off your face. "I don't... I don't know... I just..." "What the fuck was going to happen between us?" You cried. "How was this going to end? This was always going to end tragically... wasn't it? Wasn't it, Cillian?"

"I didn't... I never thought about how I was going to end things... I go back home in December... filming ends in two weeks... I was going to spend the last few weeks with you..." You scoffed again loudly. "Aww... how sweet! Spend your last few days with your mistress, who's twenty years younger than you... and then fuck off back to Ireland and go be with your loving wife and your... oh god... you have kids, don't you?" "Yes... I..." "Fuck!" You screamed. It wasn't like you to be so angry. You weren't usually this loud. But the pain was just too much, and you needed some way to get the pent-up rage within you out. "So this is it... this is going to be the last time I'll ever see you."

"It doesn't have to be that way, love," Cillian whispered, placing a hand on your arm; this time, you let it stay there. The shame of having him touch you made you sob again. "We could... spend this last month together... we could... cherish what we have while we still have it." "What we have is gone," You replied. "It's gone! It's dead! You killed it! You can't even say you love me."

"What good would that do?" He pushed you further over the edge. "I mean... I could lie and say I love you... I could feed into your fantasies that this... this could last... but it's not..."

Those words 'I could lie and say I love you' echoed over and over again in your head.

"I know that!" You yelped.

There was a pause. The silence hanging heavy in the autumn air and your teardrops falling into your lap where your hands lay curled up. Cillian's thumb rubbed circles into your arm, and you only cried harder.

"Maybe... if we had been closer in age... maybe we would have... maybe we would have been fine." Cillian broke the silence with that banger. The words ringing in your ears, you didn't reply. You didn't utter a word. Those words made you want to die. A minute or two went past. You just ignored him, ignored the way his hand lit your skin on fire, and ignored the way his eyes bore holes into the side of your skull. "Y/N?"

"Take me home." You muttered.

"Y/N..." He whispered.

"Take me the fuck home, Cillian."

And so he did. He pulled out of the parking spot, and you spent the next hour in an agonizing silence. At some point, the tears stopped falling, and the stupidity sunk in. You felt stupid and ashamed. You had told everyone about him, how happy you were, how handsome and funny... and how sweet he was. And now you sat in the car of a man you felt like you didn't know.

"We're here, Y/N."

"Goodbye, Cillian."

"Please don't do this." He begged, you looked at him, and he had tears in his eyes. "Please." You sucked in a breath, his eyes pleaded with you, and you wanted to stay so badly... you wanted to give him one last kiss and say, 'I understand,' but you knew you couldn't. You were too heartbroken. It was going to end one way or another... and it might as well end now.

"Goodbye, Cillian." You said once more before stepping out of the car and walking off into your building. Never looking back to see the broken man in the car, crying just as hard as you did, loving you just as hard as you did him.

Three months went by. There wasn't a day where you didn't think of him. Not a day passed when you yearned for his touch and to feel him hold you again. You thought about dancing with him in the refrigerator light. You thought about his hand on your thigh as you drove upstate. The memories all too real and... all too there.

And tonight, as snow fell outside, you stood at that same podium, reading the poem you wrote for him. You could barely utter the words, your heart catching in your throat as you looked around the room and spoke the words written on the page.

"Just between us, I remember it all too well." You finished, and the room clapped, but the applause didn't matter. Your heart still felt just as broken as it did the day you left him.

And as you descended from the podium, people would pat you on the back and murmur praises for how well-written your poem was and how well-spoken you were. But your eyes were focused on the hazy figure outside the cafe, the silhouette all too familiar.

And it was wearing that same red scarf you had left behind.

And you knew it was him, watching you from afar. Loving you from a distance... remembering it the same way as you did...

All too well.

-

hope you enjoyed!! Sorry this was all over the place a bit but I really wanted to write something angsty... anyway... there are lots of little easter eggs and references to the song, did you pick them all up? Okay byeee!

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

glad someone is doing Heathers the fandom has been starved. Could you do Heather Chandler x Fem!reader. Could be like strangers to lovers, idc the fandom needs more lol.

Tipsy Hook Ups||

|| Heather Chandler x fem!reader

|| Warnings: swearing, house party, underage drinking mentions, characters get drunk, heather hooks up with reader while drunk (nothing overly detailed)

|| Summary: Reader gets spotted by Heather M and the two become fast friends, resulting in reader joining the Heathers & Veronica. Heather M invites Reader to a house party where drunk!Heather Chandler hooks up with drunk!Reader.

Requests open!

Started: April 19th

Finished: April 21st

~~~

You and Heather Chandler couldn't be any further from different. While she was popular and hot, you were more artsy and "weird". At least, that's probably how she would look at you. You spent most of your time either in the library or art room, places you were sure Heather Chandler would avoid.

And it worked. For a while.

She had no idea who you were.

Until one day she noticed you. That annoying Monday morning where you had decided to situate yourself just below your school locker. Seated on the ground, sketch book in hand. You weren't giving much thought to what you were drawing: just basic anatomy figure sketches. Nothing that was overly detailed or required a lot of thought. You loved art like that. The stuff you could just effortlessly create.

The Heathers walked by your locker, you did your best not to look up and give eye contact to either of them but of course you were noticed anyways. Just not by the Red Devil.

Heather McNamara noticed you. She took one glance at your art and was immediately sitting down next to you with a smile on her face.

"Oh my God! You're amazing at that! What're you drawing?" She asks, leaning over your shoulder. You flinch at her sudden appearance next to you and her energy, glancing at her and then at the others. Heather Duke had her arms folded across her chest, watching you and Heather McNamara with an intense glare while Heather Chandler took one glance at you. Seemed to stop for a moment before she kept walking. You second guessed and thought maybe you had imagined her stopping.

Your eyes shifted from them to Heather McNamara, feeling a little awkward with the blonde next to you," Oh... um... just-"

You're cut off by Heather Duke, though you're almost relieved by that." Heather, let's go!" She makes a 'get up' hand gesture.

"Okay, okay! Just a second!" Heather McNamara replies, looking to you again after looking over at Heather Duke. "Can you teach me how to draw like that sometime? My art score is low and I could use a tutor."

"Sure..?" You raise an eyebrow slightly. That was the last thing you expected to have happen.

"Great! Thanks! Oh! What's your name?" She asks you just as she was about to get up.

"Y/N." You respond, she smiles at you and gives you a quick (awkward) hug.

"Nice meeting you, Y/N! Library after school today?"

"Okay.."

"Great!" Heather gets up and leaves, Heather Duke scoffs and glares at you before they both scramble after Heather Chandler who was a good distance ahead.

That's how you and Heather McNamara became friends. Something you never thought would happen. From what you've gathered, she's much nicer than the other Heathers.

~~~

It's been three weeks now of you tutoring Heather in art, you thought she was getting better at it. On top of it, you both were close friends now. She was just so easy to talk to and genuinely pretty funny once you got to know her.

It was after school, you and Heather M were in the school library. Working on an art project the two of you had been paired together for. You guys didn't have the same art class, but the art teacher was trying this thing where she paired students from different class periods on projects. You weren't sure why, you thought maybe it was her way of getting students to connect with people they normally wouldn't.

"Y/N, I was wondering. Are you busy this Friday night?" She asked you, you looked up from the references you'd been flipping through in a book and shook your head.

"No, why?"

Her smile widened and you immediately regretted not coming up with a lie. You knew that look.

"Kurt and Ram are hosting a house party. I'll have Heather come to yours when she picks the rest of us up!"

Great. Now you're going to a house party. You'd done so well at avoiding those.

"Alright.. but could you come to mine after school first? I have no idea what to wear to a house party." You admit.

"Oh my Gosh! Totally! Ee, this is going to be awesome!" She squeals, throwing her hands into the air. Her excited look made it worth it.

~~~

Friday night rolls around, Heather M had helped you get into a nice outfit (whatever you want to imagine) and Heather Chandler had gotten all five of you to the party. The five being you, Veronica, the Heathers.

You weren't sure what to expect. Sure you could guess but all those guesses made you nervous. Luckily, you had Heather M and Veronica keeping an eye on you. In the time you had known Heather M Veronica had become friends with you too.

It was well into the party now, you had a few drinks. Nothing too insane, but you were definitely a little tipsy. Not as bad as the other Heathers and Veronica, who you were surprised to see as drunk as she was.

You were leaned up against the counter top in the kitchen, watching as Heather M poured each of you another drink. Heather Chandler walked over to you with a smirk.

"Hey, nerd. Come over here for a second." She demanded, you glanced at her in confusion but listened.

Without warning, she kissed you. Heather D & M and Veronica stared at the both of you with wide eyes and confusion. Veronica cheered though.

"Yeah! Get it, Y/N!" She's drunk, leave her be.

You blushed heavily and pulled away after a moment, staring into Heather's eyes. You couldn't read her. You didn't want to admit it, but you had been crushing on her as you got closer with the group. Did she pick up on that? What did this mean?

"Come on." Heather C muttered, grabbing you by your hand; dragging you somewhere upstairs and into one of the bedrooms.

You weren't sure whose but you didn't care enough to figure it out. You just simply followed Heather.

When she got you into the room, she had pushed you against the closed door with a bit of force. Kissing at your neck which got a gasp out of you, you moved her off you so you could gather your thoughts.

"What the hell?" You asked, breathless. She smirked again at that and her hand trailed down your side.

"This is what you've wanted, isn't it?" Fuck.

She knew.

You gulped and didn't answer, which confirmed everything for her," Just relax and let it happen. You're hot, let me fucking kiss you." Heather whispered against your lips.

Part of you knew this was wrong. You were both drunk. Her more than you. You were sure both of you would regret this in the morning. But right now? You didn't care about any of that.

Little did you know neither of you would regret it and that it would turn into something more.

[qqueenofhades]

I also think leftists view liberals and centrists as worse than right wingers because liberals and centrists maintain the status quo, thus prolonging capitalism. In the case of accelerationists, they think a revolution is only possible if people are desperate enough to want one and so they often align themselves with right wingers who they know will make things worse (see MAGA communism as one example). To them it doesn't matter if the fascists will take power because they believe fascism always fails and communism will naturally follow. All the deaths will be worth it in the end.

I hit ask before I finished. I meant to add in parentheses that all of that is of course an oversimplification, but those are pretty much the arguments I saw in multiple leftists subreddit, on tumblr and twitter in the past few months. I know leftists irl are more normal.

See, this is what I mean when I point out that Online Leftists have become just as much of a zero-sum radicalized death cult as the MAGA Trumpists. They're willing to embrace any atrocity, global disaster, terrible people, and massive death toll as long as they think it'll bring their Shining Ideology (TM) to fruition, and then of course this will last a thousand years and never be changed and humans will bow down as a group to this Shining Ideology and destroying everything will be Worth It In The End. Apparently. This is complete ahistorical genocidal nihilistic gibberish, where any progress to fix the world and make a better future for the billions of people alive right now is actually Bad because What About the Glorious Revolution?!?! It is Totally Real! It Will Work! O Bow To Us Great Keyboard Warrior Dipshits! If You Don't Want to Violently Die With Everyone You Love, You Are Part of the Problem!!!!!

Now, I don't know about you, but I sure as fuck don't feel like sacrificing everyone and everything is a great tradeoff for whatever Communist Utopia these cosplaying pissbabies think would be the ultimate fruition of their labors. It's lazy, it's dangerous, it's stupid, it excuses them from ever having to do any effort to make the world better right now, and it feeds into the worst impulses and movements of humanity and the same mistakes that have been repeated in history over and over. This is basically what the late 19th-century and early 20th-century Communists thought: people would rise up in a Great Socialist Revolution, overthrow capitalism and fascism and every other bad thing in the world (which would somehow never ever come back, I guess) and then the future would be bright and shining forever. In practice, it resulted in tons of bloody and pointless deaths, a lot of failure, and some communist regimes that were absolutely zero improvement whatsoever on the oppressive systems they had replaced (and often were in fact MORE oppressive, but online leftists don't listen to people who actually grew up in these regimes and are not eager to see them come back). And guess what? Capitalism and fascism were not actually defeated Once and For All Time! Because yet again, you cannot just Violently Revolute your way to Ultimate Morally Pure Power once and for all, kill the Right People (aka everyone) and then everything is fixed forever. If it was ever going to work, it would have already done so. It has not. This fallacy is the cause of pretty much all the evil in human history. So. Yeah.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Aita for telling my partner they need to be better at communicating during sex?

NSFW ask, but this has been an ongoing issue for a while and I’m very frustrated

My (19M) partner (21NB) is my first true sexual partner. They’ve been with other people in the past, some good experiences but mostly bad. I on the other hand have dated before and have had pseudo-sexual relationships (just touching) but my partner is the first person I’ve properly done the horizontal tango with

That being said, with my just-touching exes, we’ve always been extremely careful about communication in the moment. My most recent ex and I had the stoplight method even when we weren’t being kinky. It was reassuring to be able to check up on her and for her to be able to do the same. Maybe we were playing is too safe, idk, but that’s what I became comfortable with during sex

With my current partner, however, this has never been the case with their exes. I think I might be the first partner they’ve had that actually took time before making any sexual advances to ask them what they like and how I can make them happy because in the moment when I did, they looked confused.

Being horny young adults, we did eventually sleep together, and during the act, I realized that neither of us had checked in on the other outside of the initial “is this okay?” when removing clothes (I was the one who asked) so I slowed my roll and asked my partner if they were with me. They were not. They sputtered and said that I brought them out of the moment, and I became really really concerned that they had been disassociating the entire time because of previous sexual trauma. I told them I wanted to stop, they did not, so I rolled off and whispered into their ear while (and I apologize for not finding a better way to describe this without being overly graphic) I was straight jorkin’ em off. They were happy, they fell asleep, and I felt awful.

About half an hour later they kicked me out because their mom was coming home from a New Years Eve party (it was my 19th birthday which also hurt), but that’s not relevant, I just need the timeline in place.

We’ve done more sexual things since then and every time I try to check on them, they get weirded out. I stopped doing it in the moment so overtly and changed tactics to asking “what can I do for you” and “what do you need baby”, and this seems to get the job done. However, afterwards when I ask actually ask them how they were feeling, they would say that “the afterglow’s ruined” (which is wild because we’ve been together for six months and I’ve never finished -> I am a pre-op transman and my partner is AMAB, aka has told me that they don’t know what to do with my parts and once joked that sex would be easier if I had a dick, for context)

The last straw was tonight (March 4th) when they came over to my place and we started making out. I wasn’t really feeling it, so I tried to back off and shift to just lazy kisses, but my partner didn’t stop so I pulled away and said: “not tonight, baby”

They said: “if you weren’t in the mood, why did you kiss me?”

I said: “because I like kissing you?”

They said: “you should have told me you didn’t want to do anything. I don’t want to get the wrong idea.”

I said: “I’m sorry, I should have. I thought I wanted to, but I changed my mind. Can we go back to watching anime?”

They said yes and we watched another episode of a show (dungeon meshi!!) before I finally asked them why they don’t check in with me the way I do with them

They said: “I don’t like talking during sex. Ruins the vibe”

I said: “Okay, so can we find a system that lets the other know how we’re feeling when we don’t want to talk? Like how I use signs when I go nonverbal?”

They said: “I don’t see the point. If you don’t want to fuck, just push me off.”

I got mad and said: “What is wrong with you? I don’t want to push you off, I want to talk about it!”

They told me I was getting worked up and left. It’s been two hours and I feel like total shit for pushing the subject when they’ve expressed that they don’t like my expectations for sex. Am I too high maintenance?

TL;DR, I annoyed my partner by asking too many times for them to talk to me during sex, they got pissed and left my house. Atia for asking too many times?

What are these acronyms?

[rory-cakes]

“Marry me?”

Y/n giggles at the man sitting on the stool across from her as she finishes cleaning the shaker and puts it underneath the bar. She looks at the man she’s known for the last four years. 

“I already am Samu. Tomorrow, remember?” 

This brings a smile to the brunette’s face. His usual lifeless eyes are shining, as they always did around her. 

Tomorrow. 

Tomorrow, he would turn eighteen, and they could get married. Some might think they are rushing into things and they shouldn’t get married so young. However, Osamu Dazai and Y/n Lupin truly loved each other. She gave him a sense of peace and kindness he had never known from this world before her. He grounded her and became one of the only constants in her life. Most romance books would say they completed one another, and while that was true, it was more profound than that. 

The familiar sound of footsteps going downstairs filled their ears as the couple looked to see who it was. 

Oda Sakunosuke and Sakaguchi Ango. 

Despite being drinking buddies for a while now, Sakunosuke and Ango still had a slight tenseness around Dazai. After all, Osamu Dazai was the youngest executive in Port Mafia history. 

“Well, well, if it isn’t the love birds,” Sakunosuke huffs as he slides into his usual spot. 

Y/n starts to prepare their usuals, and Ango slumps onto his stool. 

“It’s still hard to believe you actually got someone to marry you.”

“Ango! How could you be so cruel! Y/n is a beautifully stunning woman! Anyone would be lucky to have her!” Dazai exclaims, getting in said man’s face. 

“I know. I was talking about you,” Ango grumbles back. Y/n just smiles and slides Ango his tomato juice and Sakunosuke his scotch. 

As the three men continued with their usual antics, Y/n busied herself cleaning up behind the bar. Her adoptive father made sure to teach her proper upkeep habits.  

After a while, she glances back at the scene behind her. 

Yeah, this is right where I want to be. I hope things never change. 

The next day, on June 19th, Y/n Lupin became Y/n Dazai. With Mori's unexpected help, they got an officiant and became legally married. They just did a simple ceremony as they just wanted to be married. They didn’t need a wedding to do that.  

They return to Bar Lupin for a small celebratory get-together, just the Dazais, Saunosuke, Ango, and Mr. Lupin. 

“I love you,” Osamu whispers to Y/n. “I’ve never felt so happy, and I’m nervous that you’ll disappear if I look away for even a moment.”

"My love and my life, there is nothing that could take me away. You know what would happen if they try." Y/n grins as she holds his face to hers and plants a gentle peck on his lips.

Mr. & Mrs. Dazai

Masterlist/Next

AN: Hi!! I hope you like the prologue to my new series!! I don't have a set schedule as I'm currently very busy with life and updating my other story. So please be patient!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

A year in illustration, 2023 edition (part one)

(This is part one; part two is here.)

I am objectively very bad at visual art. I am bad at vision, period – I'm astigmatic, shortsighted, color blind, and often miss visual details others see. I can't even draw a stick-figure. To top things off, I have cataracts in both eyes and my book publishing/touring schedule is so intense that I keep having to reschedule the surgeries. But despite my vast visual deficits, I thoroughly enjoy making collages for this blog.

For many years now – decades – I've been illustrating my blog posts by mixing public domain and Creative Commons art with work that I can make a good fair use case for. As bad as art as I may be, all this practice has paid off. Call it unseemly, but I think I'm turning out some terrific illustrations – not all the time, but often enough.

Last year, I rounded up my best art of the year:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/25/a-year-in-illustration/

And I liked reflecting on the year's art so much, I decided I'd do it again. Be sure to scroll to the bottom for some downloadables – freely usable images that I painstakingly cut up with the lasso tool in The Gimp.

The original AD&D hardcover cover art is seared into my psyche. For several years, there were few images I looked at so closely as these. When Hasbro pulled some world-beatingly sleazy stuff with the Open Gaming License, I knew just how to mod Dave Trampier's 'Eve Of Moloch' from the cover of the Players' Handbook. Thankfully, bigger nerds than me have identified all the fonts in the image, making the remix a doddle.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/12/beg-forgiveness-ask-permission/#whats-a-copyright-exception

Even though I don't keep logs or collect any analytics, I can say with confidence that "Tiktok's Enshittification" was the most popular thing I published on Pluralistic this year. I mixed some public domain Brother's Grimm art, mixed with a classic caricature of Boss Tweed, and some very cheesy royalty-free/open access influencer graphics. One gingerbread cottage social media trap, coming up:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

To illustrate the idea of overcoming walking-the-plank fear (as a metaphor for writing when it feels like you suck) I mixed public domain stock of a plank, a high building and legs, along with a procedurally generated Matrix "code waterfall" and a vertiginous spiral ganked from a Heinz Bunse photo of a German office lobby.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/22/walking-the-plank/

Finding a tasteful way to illustrate a story about Johnson & Johnson losing a court case after it spent a generation tricking women into dusting their vulvas with asbestos-tainted talcum was a challenge. The tulip (featured in many public domain images) was a natural starting point. I mixed it with Jesse Wagstaff's image of a Burning Man dust-storm and Mike Mozart's shelf-shot of a J&J talcum bottle.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/01/j-and-j-jk/#risible-gambit

"Google's Chatbot Panic" is about Google's long history of being stampeded into doing stupid things because its competitors are doing them. Once it was Yahoo, now it's Bing. Tenniel's Tweedle Dee and Dum were a good starting point. I mixed in one of several Humpty Dumpty editorial cartoon images from 19th century political coverage that I painstakingly cut out with the lasso tool on a long plane-ride. This is one of my favorite Humpties, I just love the little 19th C businessmen trying to keep him from falling! I finished it off with HAL 9000's glowing red eye, my standard 'this is about AI' image, which I got from Cryteria's CC-licensed SVG.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/16/tweedledumber/#easily-spooked

Though I started writing about Luddites in my January, 2022 Locus column, 2023 was the Year of the Luddite, thanks to Brian Merchant's outstanding Blood In the Machine:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/26/enochs-hammer/#thats-fronkonsteen

When it came time to illustrate "Gig Work Is the Opposite of Steampunk," I found a public domain weaver's loft, and put one of Cryteria's HAL9000 eyes in the window. Magpie Killjoy's Steampunk Magazine poster, 'Love the Machine, Hate the Factory,' completed the look.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/12/gig-work-is-the-opposite-of-steampunk/

For the "small, non-profit school" that got used as an excuse to bail out Silicon Valley Bank, I brought back Humpty Dumpty, mixing him with a Hogwartsian castle, a brick wall texture, and an ornate, gilded frame. I love how this one came out. This Humpty was made for the SVB bailout.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/23/small-nonprofit-school/#north-country-school

The RESTRICT Act would have federally banned Tiktok – a proposal that was both technically unworkable and unconstitutional. I found an early 20th century editorial cartoon depicting Uncle Sam behind a fortress wall that was keeping a downtrodden refugee family out of America. I got rid of most of the family, giving the dad a Tiktok logo head, and I put Cryteria's HAL9000 eyes over each cannonmouth. Three Boss Tweed moneybag-head caricatures, adorned with Big Tech logos, rounded it out.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/30/tik-tok-tow/#good-politics-for-electoral-victories

When Flickr took decisive action to purge the copyleft trolls who'd been abusing its platform, I knew I wanted to illustrate this with Lucifer being cast out of heaven, and the very best one of those comes from John Milton, who is conveniently well in the public domain. The Flickr logo suggested a bicolored streaming-light-of-heaven motif that just made it.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/01/pixsynnussija/#pilkunnussija

Old mainframe ads are a great source of stock for a "Computer Says No" image. And Congress being a public building, there are lots of federal (and hence public domain) images of its facade.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/04/cbo-says-no/#wealth-tax

When I wrote about the Clarence Thomas/Harlan Crow bribery scandal, it was easy to find Mr. Kjetil Ree's great image of the Supreme Court building. Thomas being a federal judge, it was easy to find a government photo of his head, but it's impossible to find an image of him in robes at a decent resolution. Luckily, there are tons of other federal judges who've been photographed in their robes! Boss Tweed with the dollar-sign head was a great stand-in for Harlan Crow (no one knows what he looks like anyway). Gilding Thomas's robes was a simple matter of superimposing a gold texture and twiddling with the layers.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/06/clarence-thomas/#harlan-crow

"Gig apps trap reverse centaurs in wage-stealing Skinner boxes" is one of my best titles. This is the post where I introduce the idea of "twiddling" as part of the theory of enshittification, and explain how it relates to "reverse centaurs" – people who assist machines, rather than the other way around. Finding a CC licensed modular synth was much harder than I thought, but I found Stephen Drake's image and stitched it into a mandala. Cutting out the horse's head for the reverse centaur was a lot of work (manes are a huuuuge pain in the ass), but I love how his head sits on the public domain high-viz-wearing warehouse worker's body I cut up (thanks, OSHA!). Seeing as this is an horrors-of-automation story, Cryteria's HAL9000 eyes make an appearance.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

Rockefeller's greatest contribution to our culture was inspiring many excellent unflattering caricatures. The IWW's many-fists-turning-into-one-fist image made it easy to have the collective might of workers toppling the original robber-baron.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/14/aiming-at-dollars/#not-men

I link to this post explaining how to make good Mastodon threads at least once a week, so it's a good thing the graphic turned out so well. Close-cropping the threads from a public domain yarn tangle worked out great. Eugen Rochko's Mastodon logo was and is the only Affero-licensed image ever to appear on Pluralistic.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/16/how-to-make-the-least-worst-mastodon-threads/

I spent hours on the sofa one night painstakingly cutting up and reassembling the cover art from a science fiction pulp. I have a folder full of color-corrected, high-rez scans from an 18th century anatomy textbook, and the cross-section head-and-brain is the best of the lot.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/04/analytical-democratic-theory/#epistocratic-delusions

Those old French anatomical drawings are an endless source of delight to me. Take one cross-sectioned noggin, mix in an old PC mainboard, and a vector art illo of a virtuous cycle with some of Cryteria's HAL9000 eyes and you've got a great illustration of Google's brain-worms.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/14/googles-ai-hype-circle/

Ireland's privacy regulator is but a plaything in Big Tech's hand, but it's goddamned hard to find an open-access Garda car. I manually dressed some public domain car art in Garda livery, painstakingly tracing it over the panels. The (public domain) baby's knit cap really hides the seams from replacing the baby's head with HAL9000's eye.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/15/finnegans-snooze/#dirty-old-town

Naked-guy-in-a-barrel bankruptcy images feel like something you can find in an old Collier's or Punch, but I came up snake-eyes and ended up frankensteining a naked body into a barrel for the George Washington crest on the Washington State flag. It came out well, but harvesting the body parts from old muscle-beach photos left George with some really big guns. I tried five different pairs of suspenders here before just drawing in black polyhedrons with little grey dots for rivets.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/03/when-the-tide-goes-out/#passive-income

Illustrating Amazon's dominance over the EU coulda been easy – just stick Amazon 'A's in place of the yellow stars that form a ring on the EU flag. So I decided to riff on Plutarch's Alexander, out of lands to conquer. Rama's statue legs were nice and high-rez. I had my choice of public domain ruin images, though it was harder thank expected to find a good Amazon box as a plinth for those broken-off legs.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/14/flywheel-shyster-and-flywheel/#unfulfilled-by-amazon

God help me, I could not stop playing with this image of a demon-haunted IoT car. All those reflections! The knife sticking out of the steering wheel, the multiple Munsch 'Scream'ers, etc etc. The more I patchked with it, the better it got, though. This one's a banger.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

To depict a "data-driven dictatorship," I ganked elements of heavily beribboned Russian military dress uniforms, replacing the head with HAL9000's eye. I turned the foreground into the crowds from the Nuremberg rallies and filled the sky with Matrix code waterfall.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/26/dictators-dilemma/#garbage-in-garbage-out-garbage-back-in

The best thing about analogizing DRM to demonic possession is the wealth of medieval artwork to choose from . This one comes from the 11th century 'Compendium rarissimum totius Artis Magicae sistematisatae per celeberrimos Artis hujus Magistros.' I mixed in the shiny red Tesla (working those reflections!), and a Tesla charger to make my point.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/edison-not-tesla/#demon-haunted-world

Yet more dividends from those old French anatomical plates: a flayed skull, a detached jaw, a quack electronic gadget, a Wachowski code waterfall and some HAL 9000 eyes and you've got a truly unsettling image of machine-compelled speech.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/02/self-incrimination/#wei-bai-bai

I had no idea this would work out so well, but daaaamn, crossfading between a Wachowski code waterfall and a motherboard behind a roiling thundercloud is dank af.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/03/there-is-no-cloud/#only-other-peoples-computers

Of all the turkeys-voting-for-Christmas self-owns conservative culture warriors fall for, few can rival the "banning junk fees is woke" hustle. Slap a US-flag Punisher logo on and old-time card imprinter, add a GOP logo to a red credit-card blank, and then throw in a rustic barn countertop and you've got a junk-fee extracter fit for the Cracker Barrel.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/04/owning-the-libs/#swiper-no-swiping

Putting the Verizon logo on the Hinderberg was an obvious gambit (even if I did have to mess with the flames a lot), but the cutout of Paul Marcarelli as the 'can you hear me now?' guy, desaturated and contrast-matched, made it sing.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/10/smartest-guys-in-the-room/#can-you-hear-me-now

Note to self: Tux the Penguin is really easy to source in free/open formats! He looks great with HAL9000 eyes.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/18/openwashing/#you-keep-using-that-word-i-do-not-think-it-means-what-you-think-it-means

Rockwell's self-portrait image is a classic; that made it a natural for a HAL9000-style remix about AI art. I put a bunch of time into chopping and remixing Rockwell's signature to give it that AI look, and added as many fingers as would fit on each hand.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/20/everything-made-by-an-ai-is-in-the-public-domain/

(Images: Heinz Bunse, West Midlands Police, Christopher Sessums, CC BY-SA 2.0; Mike Mozart, Jesse Wagstaff, Stephen Drake, Steve Jurvetson, syvwlch, Doc Searls, https://www.flickr.com/photos/mosaic36/14231376315, Chatham House, CC BY 2.0; Cryteria, CC BY 3.0; Mr. Kjetil Ree, Trevor Parscal, Rama, “Soldiers of Russia” Cultural Center, Russian Airborne Troops Press Service, CC BY-SA 3.0; Raimond Spekking, CC BY 4.0; Drahtlos, CC BY-SA 4.0; Eugen Rochko, Affero; modified)